So the third chapter is well underway, but it won't be going up on Literotica for a bit. I'm fighting hordes of purple prose at every turn, so I can't honestly vouch for the quality of this snippet as I haven't had it beta'd yet. However, I promised, and additionally it's Tiffany's birthday and she is a fantastic person, so she should get a present. So here. For Tiffany.
***
Clare, the Bright City, was burning.
What had begun as an isolated explosion in the heart of the Upper Half had quickly spread thanks to inattention, confusion and the fact that the explosion occurred at noon. No high ones could be out and about then, not without risking their lives in the sun, and many of their human servants had scattered with the blast, wilting under the violent transition from placid to fearful. What they feared varied from one individual to the next, but every resident of the Upper City was attuned to the nameless anxiety lurking there. The cold, haughty serenity that had reigned for half a millennium was crumbling, buckling under the corpses of dead ideas suddenly resurrected in all their terrifying mortality. Change was coming, and the servants feared it almost as much as their masters.
No one in the city had expected the change to happen quite so fast, however.
Two men stood on the far shore of the lake in which the island city sat, watching the towering flames. They couldn’t hear the screams, not from here, but they could well imagine them. They’d been hearing them only an hour earlier, after all. Human screams, the twisting roar of tumbling masonry, the groaning opening of cavernous sinkholes. The very fabric of Clare was disintegrating. Not all of it would go, not yet, but the end had well and truly begun.
“It’s not right,” Rafael said finally, breaking a silence that had endured the length of their trip to the mainland. His eyes still stung from smoke and the fumes from the barge they had ridden on.
“It’s not right or wrong,” Xian said, his voice flat and uninflected. “It just is.”
“So many people are dying—”
“And so many are living. And so many are already dead. This is a disaster, pet, uncontrollable off the mark. Don’t even think about trying to take it into yourself.”
Rafael turned and stared at his master. His lover. They had been lovers for less than a day, and already the sense of obligation that Xian felt towards him had precipitated the inferno on that distant shore. “If you had given me to Myrtea, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Clare has always been a doomed city,” Xian replied calmly. “It was doomed from the moment we first discovered the source of eternal, damning youth. The end has been looming for longer than any of us had the wit to realize. My refusal to give you to Myrtea merely forced Fate’s hand.” He looked directly at Rafael, white eyes glowing orange in the light of the flames. “I do not regret keeping you. Not for an instant. Neither should you.” He held out his hand, the heavy black cloth that protected him ripped and revealing moon-pale skin in several places. Xian reached out to Rafael and Rafael came to him instantly, settling into arms that had murdered dozens today, hands that had set a city on fire to keep him safe. Xian smelled of smoke and ash and stale blood, but Rafael couldn’t help but take comfort in his embrace. He was Xian’s. His apprentice, his failure, his burden, his lover. His.
Xian pressed a kiss to Rafael’s brow, then his cheek, then his upturned, seeking lips. The parts of him that wanted to rage and scream and fly into a million pieces melted away with his master’s kiss, even though Xian tasted like Erran’s blood. God’s blood, the gift and the curse, the withering spring of immortality that might yet take Xian from him. It was the taste of life, and death.
“I’ll get the horses,” Xian murmured against his mouth, then gently disengaged from their embrace and turned, slipping away into the darkness of unsettled forest. Rafael stared again at Clare, hating to see it but unable to look away. The solace he felt knowing his own loved ones had escaped the bloody battle and conflagration was a guilty source of relief. He stared, wishing he was numb and cursing inside.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
***
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Two Awesomely Cool Things
First things first, I am again behind the times in getting the word out for this anthology:
Mine, edited by Shawn Clements and published by Torquere Press. I'd call it a paranormal possessiveness anthology featuring vampires and shapeshifters. My story is titled "State of Mine"; yes, I'm so punny. It's available starting tomorrow on the Torquere website: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2883.
I actually wish I'd had more length to develop this story, the world is very interesting if I do say so myself. Vampires have taken over Seattle (naturally, right?) but there are also psychics and great escapes and bits and pieces of Chopin. It's a little over 8k long, and while I haven't read all the other authors in the anthology before, the ones I have (JL Merrow specifically) are awesome.
The other awesomely cool thing of late (my mental editor is shrieking at me about repeating that word over and over again, but darn it, sometimes nothing fits the bill like "awesome") is a review I got for my story Treasured on jessewave's website, actually guest-written by Jenre. If you're the sort of person who likes to read reviews, here's a link: http://www.reviewsbyjessewave.com/?p=33647.
Why is this so cool? Apart from being a great review that introduced me to several new people, it was brought to my attention by my publisher as it boosted sales. That's cool because the only way I get to write about the Treasured world again in the forseeable future, at least with these characters, is if I get enough sales to warrant a sequel. I know, the story could have been a novel, not a shortish-novella, but I couldn 't commit the time. I would really, really freaking love to write a sequel, so thank you, Jenre, for the lovely review, and thank you jessewave for letting it get posted, and damn it, thanks for buying my stuff, people. Seriously. Writing is how I spend my limited hours of computer-charged time, it's how I relax, it's how I get creative. Blogging isn't. Some of you may have noticed, I'm not a tres-savvy blogger. I do this so I can be a better writer, for myself and for all the people who put time and effort into me, including those who review and those who read me. So jeez. Thanks.
Enough mush. I'll post the prologue of the third chapter of Shadows and Light up here tomorrow (probably tomorrow), which should make people who've followed that story on Literotica happy (the rest is getting beta'd soon, it'll be up on their site asap, swear). Lots of my stuff's there and it's free, folks. Merci beaucoup.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
If I May Digress...
Sooo, the blog is going nicely. Got links to some friends up, put links into my published work's page. Did, you know, stuff. I'm writing, editing, getting ready for more calls and trying to put together some longer pieces for people. Trying to figure out how to post some free shorter stuff here. Some of this I'll do today, but my good intentions were waylaid by (drumroll please): THE BOX FROM AMERICA!!!!
Actually it's from Germany, where my folks live, but it might as well be America for all the awesomeness that inhabits it. Parmesan cheese. Brownie mix. Crackers. Plaster of paris and shrink-tubing (there are times we'd kill for a decent hardware store.) Magazines. It is pure delight. I need to go and revel in the decadence for a while, then I'll be able to properly focus, fortified by Wheat Thins and brownies.
Right, so, this is a writing blog, not an everyday event blog, but these boxes only come once every blue moon, and they must be properly acknowledged. Now I'll get back to writing.
Actually it's from Germany, where my folks live, but it might as well be America for all the awesomeness that inhabits it. Parmesan cheese. Brownie mix. Crackers. Plaster of paris and shrink-tubing (there are times we'd kill for a decent hardware store.) Magazines. It is pure delight. I need to go and revel in the decadence for a while, then I'll be able to properly focus, fortified by Wheat Thins and brownies.
Right, so, this is a writing blog, not an everyday event blog, but these boxes only come once every blue moon, and they must be properly acknowledged. Now I'll get back to writing.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Pandora Post #3
Title: Pandora
Part Three: Easy Company
Notes: This is the next part in a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. The first parts can be found a few posts down. I’ll put them all in the same place soon. Don’t read it if you don’t want to, people. If you do want to and you like it, throw me a comment, make me eager to continue :)
***
Garrett led the senator over to his father and promptly abandoned both of them, stealing away his new stepmother with a breezy “You two enjoy yourselves.” His father frowned at him but turned his attention to Jezria, which suited Garrett perfectly. Two birds distracted with one stone. Claudia would be easy company for him, and he needed to be ensconced with someone in order to be left alone by everyone else.
Claudia cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder at her husband as they walked away. “Shouldn’t I stay with him?”
“Miles is a big boy, he can handle himself with Senator Dowd for a few minutes. He’s used to her.”
“It sounds so strange to hear you call your father ‘Miles.’”
“I’d call him Dad, but then the temptation to call you Mommy out of sheer proximity might be overwhelming.”
Claudia smacked him lightly on the arm with the back of her hand. “You’ve got a decade on me, Garrett.”
“I know, the potential for kink here is profound, isn’t it?”
Claudia laughed like he’d intended, some of her tension seeping away. “Don’t you dare start calling him ‘Daddy,’ I don’t think I could take it.”
“Not tonight,” Garrett promised her. “I’d have to be drunk to do that and unfortunately, we’re on call.” They stopped in an alcove next to a sweet-smelling potted lemon tree, took two glasses of that dark champagne from the ubiquitous wait staff, and looked out at the crowd. Garrett sipped, then nodded approvingly. “This is lovely. Did you choose this?”
“Yes. I had it brought in with the last shipment of medical supplies from Clix, they have the most wonderful environment for grapes there. It’s a newer variety of champagne, a noir de noirs. It’s called Elysium.”
There was no escaping ancient mythologies tonight, it seemed.
“Do you miss the restaurant?” Claudia had been a master sommelier before marrying his father.
“Not really, no. There’s so much to do right now. Miles is working nonstop, and I’ve got my hands full sorting out things with the estate.”
“It’s a lot,” Garrett agreed. He was tempted, very badly tempted, to offer up advice. Garrett had played host for the more social aspects of his father’s career many times before, and having that mantle taken away was still something he was getting used to. Claudia probably wouldn’t have been offended if he’d offered to help, but it wasn’t a habit he wanted to let himself develop. “How does it feel living in full view of the public?”
“It’s taking some getting used to,” Claudia acknowledged, inhaling the scent of her champagne before sipping. “I thought the wedding was bad enough…I had no idea Miles was so popular with the newsfeeds.”
“Yeah, that’s Mom’s fault,” Garrett said.
“Oh, no.” Claudia looked at him apologetically, her large dark eyes going wide with apprehension. “I don’t mean to imply that I blame your mother for anything, Gare. Honestly—”
“It was a joke, Claudia,” Garrett said gently. He knew his mother was a sore spot with Claudia. Hell, she was a sore spot with everyone, a figure of extremes: passion and elegance, vanity and need. Her movies were still some of the most popular holofilms ever made, and the woman had been dead since he was three. His mother had been the archetype of celebrity, and part of her legacy was an eternal spotlight on the family she left behind.
“No one ever expected Dad to marry again,” Garrett went on. “That he found you too charming to resist isn’t your fault, but it is enough to make asshole reporters pry into your private life and crash your wedding. Dad did fire that security firm, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “We’ve got a new one working for us now, based here on Paradise. In addition to Miles’ personal security staff, of course.”
Garrett frowned. “Based here? Out of where, Rapture? How long have they been established? Were they on the losing side?”
“Gare.” Claudia looked a little exasperated now. “They aren’t assassins. Everyone was fully screened before being allowed access to our compound. Miles took care of it personally.”
Miles isn’t infallible, Garrett wanted to say, but there was no sense in getting into an argument with Claudia about his father. As far as Miles’ new bride was concerned, the suns rose and set at her husband’s command. It was, Garrett reflected, sweet. Cloyingly so. He drank some more champagne.
“Gare…” Her touch on his arm was tentative. “You’re not upset, are you?”
“Nothing about you and my father being together upsets me,” Garrett said firmly. It was true enough. He loved his father, wanted him to be happy. Claudia made him happy, and so Garrett loved her too. She was easy to love, all earnestness and patience. Claudia had a practical mind, and in many ways was the complete opposite of his mother, but that was probably part of her appeal, Garrett figured. She also wasn’t quite easy enough with him to point out that he hadn’t really answered her question, which was another point in her favor.
He took pity on her. “Looks like Dad’s finished with Jezria. I suppose I can be forced to spare you if you want to return to the lion’s den.”
“I should be with him,” Claudia immediately agreed. “Won’t you come with me, though? He hasn’t had a moment with you all night.”
“We can have a moment later,” Garrett said. “You go have one now.” He smiled brilliantly at her and nudged her away, watched her draw back to his father’s side like the attraction between them was magnetic. He glanced at his watch. It was late enough that he could escape without being missed for long. High fucking time, too, he snarked internally, then felt like hitting his forehead. What the fuck was wrong with him, anyway?
Garrett left the ballroom as unobtrusively as he could, only having to deflect a few people in his quest for solitude. The rest of the mansion was empty except for roving security, and all the lights were dimmed. There was carpet underfoot, and fresh air flowed through the hallways. So different from his father’s last residence, the battleship that had been his command center during Paradise’s civil war. That had been militantly spare, the only personal decorations coming through in his personal quarters.
Here, this entire mansion was his domain, his and Claudia’s. Garrett could already see glimpses of their personalities coming through in the decorating, the marble and slate and sculpture stemming from his father’s sensibilities and the rich, earth-toned fabrics covering chairs and draping windows speaking to Claudia’s. It was more than just a place to live for them. They were turning it into a home, their home.
As, Garrett reminded himself, they should. He wasn’t complaining so much as…noticing. Evaluating. He was welcome here, he knew that. He always had a home with his father. In fact, the only homes he’d ever had were with his father, or briefly with Robbie. He’d never made one for himself. And you’re how old now? Never mind, don’t answer that. Well, maybe he would look for a place of his own. Somewhere more stable and long-term than his personal ship, which was where he kept all his belongings currently. It was something to consider.
Rather than stay in the mansion tonight, Garrett walked to the shuttle bay where his cruiser was docked, alongside some custom hotrod of Wyl’s. Wyl had offered to “improve” his ship, but he wasn’t ready to void every warranty on the thing in favor of artistic sensibility and ridiculously fast speeds yet. Garrett opened the hatch and walked inside, then sighed with relief as the door closed behind him. Another evening whiled away. Another night he’d be spending by himself.
And that, Garrett reflected as he moved toward his bedroom to change, was actually all right with him. Huh. Voluntary celibacy. Who would have guessed that keeping his own company would be so effortless?
Part Three: Easy Company
Notes: This is the next part in a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. The first parts can be found a few posts down. I’ll put them all in the same place soon. Don’t read it if you don’t want to, people. If you do want to and you like it, throw me a comment, make me eager to continue :)
***
Garrett led the senator over to his father and promptly abandoned both of them, stealing away his new stepmother with a breezy “You two enjoy yourselves.” His father frowned at him but turned his attention to Jezria, which suited Garrett perfectly. Two birds distracted with one stone. Claudia would be easy company for him, and he needed to be ensconced with someone in order to be left alone by everyone else.
Claudia cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder at her husband as they walked away. “Shouldn’t I stay with him?”
“Miles is a big boy, he can handle himself with Senator Dowd for a few minutes. He’s used to her.”
“It sounds so strange to hear you call your father ‘Miles.’”
“I’d call him Dad, but then the temptation to call you Mommy out of sheer proximity might be overwhelming.”
Claudia smacked him lightly on the arm with the back of her hand. “You’ve got a decade on me, Garrett.”
“I know, the potential for kink here is profound, isn’t it?”
Claudia laughed like he’d intended, some of her tension seeping away. “Don’t you dare start calling him ‘Daddy,’ I don’t think I could take it.”
“Not tonight,” Garrett promised her. “I’d have to be drunk to do that and unfortunately, we’re on call.” They stopped in an alcove next to a sweet-smelling potted lemon tree, took two glasses of that dark champagne from the ubiquitous wait staff, and looked out at the crowd. Garrett sipped, then nodded approvingly. “This is lovely. Did you choose this?”
“Yes. I had it brought in with the last shipment of medical supplies from Clix, they have the most wonderful environment for grapes there. It’s a newer variety of champagne, a noir de noirs. It’s called Elysium.”
There was no escaping ancient mythologies tonight, it seemed.
“Do you miss the restaurant?” Claudia had been a master sommelier before marrying his father.
“Not really, no. There’s so much to do right now. Miles is working nonstop, and I’ve got my hands full sorting out things with the estate.”
“It’s a lot,” Garrett agreed. He was tempted, very badly tempted, to offer up advice. Garrett had played host for the more social aspects of his father’s career many times before, and having that mantle taken away was still something he was getting used to. Claudia probably wouldn’t have been offended if he’d offered to help, but it wasn’t a habit he wanted to let himself develop. “How does it feel living in full view of the public?”
“It’s taking some getting used to,” Claudia acknowledged, inhaling the scent of her champagne before sipping. “I thought the wedding was bad enough…I had no idea Miles was so popular with the newsfeeds.”
“Yeah, that’s Mom’s fault,” Garrett said.
“Oh, no.” Claudia looked at him apologetically, her large dark eyes going wide with apprehension. “I don’t mean to imply that I blame your mother for anything, Gare. Honestly—”
“It was a joke, Claudia,” Garrett said gently. He knew his mother was a sore spot with Claudia. Hell, she was a sore spot with everyone, a figure of extremes: passion and elegance, vanity and need. Her movies were still some of the most popular holofilms ever made, and the woman had been dead since he was three. His mother had been the archetype of celebrity, and part of her legacy was an eternal spotlight on the family she left behind.
“No one ever expected Dad to marry again,” Garrett went on. “That he found you too charming to resist isn’t your fault, but it is enough to make asshole reporters pry into your private life and crash your wedding. Dad did fire that security firm, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “We’ve got a new one working for us now, based here on Paradise. In addition to Miles’ personal security staff, of course.”
Garrett frowned. “Based here? Out of where, Rapture? How long have they been established? Were they on the losing side?”
“Gare.” Claudia looked a little exasperated now. “They aren’t assassins. Everyone was fully screened before being allowed access to our compound. Miles took care of it personally.”
Miles isn’t infallible, Garrett wanted to say, but there was no sense in getting into an argument with Claudia about his father. As far as Miles’ new bride was concerned, the suns rose and set at her husband’s command. It was, Garrett reflected, sweet. Cloyingly so. He drank some more champagne.
“Gare…” Her touch on his arm was tentative. “You’re not upset, are you?”
“Nothing about you and my father being together upsets me,” Garrett said firmly. It was true enough. He loved his father, wanted him to be happy. Claudia made him happy, and so Garrett loved her too. She was easy to love, all earnestness and patience. Claudia had a practical mind, and in many ways was the complete opposite of his mother, but that was probably part of her appeal, Garrett figured. She also wasn’t quite easy enough with him to point out that he hadn’t really answered her question, which was another point in her favor.
He took pity on her. “Looks like Dad’s finished with Jezria. I suppose I can be forced to spare you if you want to return to the lion’s den.”
“I should be with him,” Claudia immediately agreed. “Won’t you come with me, though? He hasn’t had a moment with you all night.”
“We can have a moment later,” Garrett said. “You go have one now.” He smiled brilliantly at her and nudged her away, watched her draw back to his father’s side like the attraction between them was magnetic. He glanced at his watch. It was late enough that he could escape without being missed for long. High fucking time, too, he snarked internally, then felt like hitting his forehead. What the fuck was wrong with him, anyway?
Garrett left the ballroom as unobtrusively as he could, only having to deflect a few people in his quest for solitude. The rest of the mansion was empty except for roving security, and all the lights were dimmed. There was carpet underfoot, and fresh air flowed through the hallways. So different from his father’s last residence, the battleship that had been his command center during Paradise’s civil war. That had been militantly spare, the only personal decorations coming through in his personal quarters.
Here, this entire mansion was his domain, his and Claudia’s. Garrett could already see glimpses of their personalities coming through in the decorating, the marble and slate and sculpture stemming from his father’s sensibilities and the rich, earth-toned fabrics covering chairs and draping windows speaking to Claudia’s. It was more than just a place to live for them. They were turning it into a home, their home.
As, Garrett reminded himself, they should. He wasn’t complaining so much as…noticing. Evaluating. He was welcome here, he knew that. He always had a home with his father. In fact, the only homes he’d ever had were with his father, or briefly with Robbie. He’d never made one for himself. And you’re how old now? Never mind, don’t answer that. Well, maybe he would look for a place of his own. Somewhere more stable and long-term than his personal ship, which was where he kept all his belongings currently. It was something to consider.
Rather than stay in the mansion tonight, Garrett walked to the shuttle bay where his cruiser was docked, alongside some custom hotrod of Wyl’s. Wyl had offered to “improve” his ship, but he wasn’t ready to void every warranty on the thing in favor of artistic sensibility and ridiculously fast speeds yet. Garrett opened the hatch and walked inside, then sighed with relief as the door closed behind him. Another evening whiled away. Another night he’d be spending by himself.
And that, Garrett reflected as he moved toward his bedroom to change, was actually all right with him. Huh. Voluntary celibacy. Who would have guessed that keeping his own company would be so effortless?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Well, that didn't take forever...
It comes out Friday, mes amis. There's a party on the Dreamspinner Press blog on Saturday (have a link) where different authors will be talking about their submissions, offering up excerpts and generally being accomodating. I too shall play. I'll respond to all comments, just not immediately. Time difference + crap internet = patient Cari! Or should.
Non-existential links
My publishers page now includes links to all of my published work, at least the ones I could locate. There are several that I can't link because they aren't released yet, and one that is just plain gone, so I'll probably post that story here before too long. *check* One more down on my "Get Your Shit Together" list. It's the little victories...
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Wild Hunt snippet
I love the people who check my blog, and I want to give them presents. Below is the beginning of my short story The Wild Hunt, coming out in the anthology Myths and Magic on the 15th with Dreamspinner. This snippet will be available on their blog on the 16th, but you guys get it first.
~~~
David Evans first witnessed the wild hunt when he was five years old. It was Halloween night, and his mother was dressing him up as a pumpkin. David would much rather have been dressed as a Ninja Turtle, Donatello by preference, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Cuteness won out over being cool, and early that evening, a saggy orange ball protecting his body from the cold Colorado air and a green woolen cap tied tightly to his head, he and his older cousins headed out to make the rounds in their sleepy mountain town.
The sky had already darkened by the time they left the house, and the wind, which tended to be fierce at that time of year, had picked up speed. It buffeted his ungainly little body and almost made him lose his empty pillowcase. The twins had sighed and begged their sister Megan to stay with “the baby,” and given permission, they ran happily ahead. Megan held David’s hand and helped him down Main Street, promising him that soon they would be back indoors and he’d have all the candy he could eat.
The wind howled down the street like a living thing, picking up fallen leaves and pine needles and throwing them through the air like darts. Thunder rumbled in the sky and tremendous clouds rolled by overhead, followed by a quickly creeping white mist. In the distance, David heard snarls and growls and he stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.
“What?” Megan asked him. She was fourteen and feeling kind of embarrassed about trick-or-treating at such an advanced age, so having David to look after wasn’t hard on her. She knelt down beside him. “What is it?”
“Hear it?”
“Hear what?” Megan asked. “The wind?”
“No,” David said, bright blue eyes staring straight ahead. “The dogs.”
“Dogs?” Megan turned and looked down the road. Apart from the fast-incoming storm and a few other determined trick-or-treaters, there was nothing there. “What dogs?”
David raised his free, orange-mittened hand and pointed down the road. “Those dogs.”
How could anyone not see it? David saw them plain as day—sleek, tremendous hounds that raced faster than the wind, hounds with shining black bodies and luminous, shimmering eyes. They howled out fierce, joyous cries, warning the living and the dead that there was no escape. The dead were listening too. David saw them as well, ghostly apparitions streaming in on the mist, faces ecstatic with the fury of the hunt. The dogs roared by and the dead followed them, and he was there as well, shepherding the frenzied procession.
He rode a massive stallion, as white as the mist beneath its hooves. His body was covered with armor, ever-shifting, first like metal, then leather, then bone. The top half of his face was covered by a helmet, his eyes glowing white through a narrow slit. From the crest of the helmet, two tremendous antlers extended into the sky. Pale blond hair flew wildly in the wind, partially covering his face. David could see him smile, though.
The hunter stopped his great horse for a moment and looked down at David and Megan. “Small prey,” he said, and his voice was an eagle’s scream, fierce and proud. “Too small yet to take, and too rare to waste. Run home to your mother, child, and go no more this night.” His white horse reared, dagger-like hooves flashing in the flickering light, and then he was off again, the spirits of the dead following helplessly in his wake. For a moment David thought he saw regular people too, wild-eyed and panting, but then the hunt had passed.
“Whoa!” Megan exclaimed, pulling her witch’s cloak tighter around her body. She took in her little cousin’s stunned, blank expression and shook her head. “That’s it, we’re going home.” It was too blustery and cold for David to be out tonight. “C’mon, Davey.” He didn’t move when she tugged on his hand. “Davey?”
“He had a horse.”
“Who did?”
“And dogs. And he had antlers.”
“What, like a costume?” Megan looked around briefly. “There’s no one else here, Davey. Let’s go home, okay?” She pulled again and this time he came, still silent but at least walking in the right direction.
~~~
David Evans first witnessed the wild hunt when he was five years old. It was Halloween night, and his mother was dressing him up as a pumpkin. David would much rather have been dressed as a Ninja Turtle, Donatello by preference, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Cuteness won out over being cool, and early that evening, a saggy orange ball protecting his body from the cold Colorado air and a green woolen cap tied tightly to his head, he and his older cousins headed out to make the rounds in their sleepy mountain town.
The sky had already darkened by the time they left the house, and the wind, which tended to be fierce at that time of year, had picked up speed. It buffeted his ungainly little body and almost made him lose his empty pillowcase. The twins had sighed and begged their sister Megan to stay with “the baby,” and given permission, they ran happily ahead. Megan held David’s hand and helped him down Main Street, promising him that soon they would be back indoors and he’d have all the candy he could eat.
The wind howled down the street like a living thing, picking up fallen leaves and pine needles and throwing them through the air like darts. Thunder rumbled in the sky and tremendous clouds rolled by overhead, followed by a quickly creeping white mist. In the distance, David heard snarls and growls and he stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.
“What?” Megan asked him. She was fourteen and feeling kind of embarrassed about trick-or-treating at such an advanced age, so having David to look after wasn’t hard on her. She knelt down beside him. “What is it?”
“Hear it?”
“Hear what?” Megan asked. “The wind?”
“No,” David said, bright blue eyes staring straight ahead. “The dogs.”
“Dogs?” Megan turned and looked down the road. Apart from the fast-incoming storm and a few other determined trick-or-treaters, there was nothing there. “What dogs?”
David raised his free, orange-mittened hand and pointed down the road. “Those dogs.”
How could anyone not see it? David saw them plain as day—sleek, tremendous hounds that raced faster than the wind, hounds with shining black bodies and luminous, shimmering eyes. They howled out fierce, joyous cries, warning the living and the dead that there was no escape. The dead were listening too. David saw them as well, ghostly apparitions streaming in on the mist, faces ecstatic with the fury of the hunt. The dogs roared by and the dead followed them, and he was there as well, shepherding the frenzied procession.
He rode a massive stallion, as white as the mist beneath its hooves. His body was covered with armor, ever-shifting, first like metal, then leather, then bone. The top half of his face was covered by a helmet, his eyes glowing white through a narrow slit. From the crest of the helmet, two tremendous antlers extended into the sky. Pale blond hair flew wildly in the wind, partially covering his face. David could see him smile, though.
The hunter stopped his great horse for a moment and looked down at David and Megan. “Small prey,” he said, and his voice was an eagle’s scream, fierce and proud. “Too small yet to take, and too rare to waste. Run home to your mother, child, and go no more this night.” His white horse reared, dagger-like hooves flashing in the flickering light, and then he was off again, the spirits of the dead following helplessly in his wake. For a moment David thought he saw regular people too, wild-eyed and panting, but then the hunt had passed.
“Whoa!” Megan exclaimed, pulling her witch’s cloak tighter around her body. She took in her little cousin’s stunned, blank expression and shook her head. “That’s it, we’re going home.” It was too blustery and cold for David to be out tonight. “C’mon, Davey.” He didn’t move when she tugged on his hand. “Davey?”
“He had a horse.”
“Who did?”
“And dogs. And he had antlers.”
“What, like a costume?” Megan looked around briefly. “There’s no one else here, Davey. Let’s go home, okay?” She pulled again and this time he came, still silent but at least walking in the right direction.
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