Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
I do what I always do when I feel like crap—I go and spend time with my best friend.
Bob-cob is grumpy. He isn’t impressed that his human hasn’t been to see him for a few days.
To placate him, I feed him a full packet of extra-strong mints and spend a good hour brushing him.
I scratch all his favourite spots. I even take him for a lazy hack around the livery yard instead of schooling him in the riding arena.
When we get back from our ride, I untack him and then go grab a grooming brush.
I leave Bob tied up outside his stable with his saddle resting across the top of the stable door.
Brush in hand, I meander back across the yard.
I narrow my eyes as I watch Bob lean towards his saddle.
“Bob,” I say in a warning tone. He looks back at me and then gives a deliberate nudge of his nose.
The saddle on the door wobbles. I speed up.
“Don’t you dare…” I am a step away. With a wrinkle of Bob’s nose and another strong push, the saddle thuds to the floor.
Gah. “You little sod, that saddle is a made-to-measure… why the hell would you do that?” I scoop the saddle up off the floor and inspect it.
Phew, it’s gotten away unscathed and there are no scratches.
I glare at him and he looks back at me, the picture of horsey innocence. If anyone that tells you horses don’t or can’t hold grudges…they haven’t spent a lot of time with them. Bob seems more content now that he’s got his own back.
I take the saddle and my cleaning kit and go sit on a bale of straw in the hay barn.
A shaft of sunlight warms my face, and the rough straw digs into the back of my thighs.
I’ve done all my stable jobs and a smug Bob is back out in the field with his friends.
It’s a lovely, warm day without a cloud in the pale-blue sky.
With the saddle resting on my knees, and the comfortable heat in the barn relaxing me, my mind drifts as I apply the leather conditioner with a cloth.
“You moved out then, for real?” says a familiar voice. I cover my eyes with my hand and squint into the bright sunlight. “This is a nice place for Bob… expensive…that horse is so spoiled.”
So I can see her better, Sam steps underneath the barn’s overhang.
My lips part as I take her in. She twists her riding hat in her hands and looks at me sheepishly.
“Hey, yes and yes it’s nice,” I say, answering both questions. I glance down at the saddle on my knees and gather my courage. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper.
“Yeah?” She steps closer. “I’m sorry, you know, about the whole”—Sam cringes and then does the Psycho film knife-move, with the screeching sound effect for good measure—“stabbing you in the back and stuff.” I snort and shake my head at her antics.
She plunks down next to me on the bale and nudges my shoulder.
“I missed you too,” she mumbles and shoots me a rueful grin.
“Did he send you?”
“Who…the hellhound? No. No, I don’t work for him, not anymore. I finished up riding a client’s horse and saw you sat here on your lonesome.” She bounces the hat on her knee. “What’s the hellhound done to you now?”
I shrug.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. You?” Sam shrugs back. “How is Munchkin?”
“He is a shit. The little tyke is teaching kids to ride…it's hilarious.” I roll my eyes. Bloody vampire. I bet their parents don’t think it's hilarious. I can imagine the poor kids pinging off the monster pony, crying on the floor while Munchkin tries to kick them in the head. Fun.
We sit in comfortable silence. I run the cloth across my saddle. Sam picks at some mud that’s splatted on her breaches, peeling it off with her thumbnail.
“You know you can’t trust me—I can’t keep your secrets.”
I turn my head and look at her, my eyebrows raised. Wow, that was honest.
“You know what? I’m sick of being afraid.
” I smile sadly and grab hold of her hand.
I thread our fingers together. “I’m fucking sick of this world.
It uses us and then it spits us out. To survive…
we have to turn on each other, friend against friend.
” I squeeze her hand. “Parents against their kids. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, and I’m sick to death of running.
I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I will not stand by and do nothing.
I am done with standing on the sidelines…
snivelling.” I curl my lip in self-disgust. I’m done with being a victim.
“I’d rather you didn’t blab Sam. But you do what you need to do to survive—I trust you not to say too much.
” It might be a mistake, but it’s a gut feeling I have.
I debate on whether to tell her about John, about us being mates, but I think it’s better not to. It’s private between us, and even though I should talk to someone else about it…I’m not going to disrespect John by doing so. Instead I change the subject.
“I’ve got wings.”
“Wings? No shit…what type of wings?” Her eyes widen, and she almost shoves me off the bale in her exuberance to look at my back.
“Demony ones—bat, I guess. They’re dark purple.”
“Can I see?” she asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows. I grin and nod.
This…this is something I can share. I stand and prop my saddle against the bale.
I open up the tenuous hold I have on my magic and it eagerly comes to my call.
My black, smoky magic appears and Sam’s eyes almost bug out of her head.
“Is that your magic? Wow. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. What can you do with it?”
I shrug. “I have no idea—your guess is as good as mine.” Sam waves her hands in the air in an attempt to capture my magic, and as soon as her hands get near, they slip right through.
I mentally call for my wings. Sam squeaks, and it’s only due to her vampire reflexes that she catches herself before she falls off the bale.
I giggle and allow myself a tiny bit of pride. Like with my eyes, I’ve been practising. Before I came to the stables I worked on releasing my wings and then putting them back away. Once I knew what I was doing and I wasn’t freaking out over my magic, it became as easy as breathing.
Sam jumps up. “These are incredible, Emma,” she says with awe.
“Oh…” She holds a finger up and then digs into her jacket pocket.
She pulls a potion ball from its depths and wiggles it at me.
“…It’s a ‘don’t see me now’ potion, so we won’t be discovered.
” She taps her ear. “I will also listen out with my vampire hearing.” She flicks the potion ball onto the floor and it activates with a shimmer.
As long as I don’t go near that spot, it should work fine. “The wings don’t tear your clothing?”
“Oh no, I forgot about that.” I groan and rub my forehead. “I’ve never shifted with my top on.” Damn it.
“Oh well, even if you have to shift with your boobs out…I still want a pair. Go on then, up you go.” She nods at a rickety set of stairs in the corner that leads up into the hayloft—it’s an open mezzanine area far above us.
“Wait one sec…” she grabs her riding hat from the floor and slaps it onto my head.
“Okay, champ, now go fly.” Sam smacks my bum.
“Fly? Oh no-no-no, I am not going to fly. Are you nuts?” I shake my head so vigorously, the riding hat almost bounces off.
“You’ve got wings, Emma…what else are you gonna do with them?” She gives me a meaningful look and pushes me towards the stairs. “You’re a demon…it’s not like you’re going to die.”
I approach the dusty stairs, and thanks to the encouraging poke from behind me, I take a step up.
The old wooden steps creak and the whole staircase wobbles.
I glance back; the movement and the heavy weight of the wings unbalance me and I almost fall to my knees.
“Okay, these things need to go, at least until I am up there.” My magic springs into action and the wings dissipate.
So far, so good. I take another few cautious steps up.
“Huh,” Sam says from behind me. “Your top is like brand new, it hasn’t got any tears in or holes from your wings…looks like your magic fixed it.”
“Wow, that’s great.” I grin as I continue my wobbly ascent.
“How cool is that? I’m so glad, as I like this top.
” I step into the loft. The old wooden floor looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in years.
Clumps of dust and rotten-looking pieces of hay and straw crunch underneath my feet.
I wrinkle my nose as I catch sight of a dead, mummified rat.
The poor thing is so flat, it looks like it’s been squished by something heavy. Eww.
I shuffle to the edge of the platform and peer down into the barn area.
The ground looks like it’s miles away. My stomach dips with anxiety.
Crap, I know I can heal small things…so far, cuts and small breaks.
But I can’t heal bruises. I swallow a lump of fear; I don’t know if I will be able to heal a broken neck.
“This isn’t going to go well,” I mumble. In response, Sam shrugs, rubs her hands together, and grins evilly. I roll my eyes. “Sam, that is quite a way to fall. I am not sure about this…” I wipe my sweaty hands on my jodhpurs.
“Yay, I have an idea.” Sam scampers away and reappears with half a dozen haynets. Directly below me, she empties the contents onto the concrete floor, creating a hay landing-pad—a crash mat. Yay. I gulp.
“I hope you’re gonna refill them and put them back later, ‘cause I don’t want to get kicked off this yard,” I grumble.
Sam flicks a rude finger at me with dismissal. “It’s all good. You always worry wayyyy too much…Miss Goody Two-shoes. Live a little, Emma.”
Or die. Bloody vampire, it’s not her who’s going to be flying.
My wings return with a thought. I roll my shoulders and do an experimental flap.
With the gust of air the movement creates, the dirt in the loft swirls around me.
I close my eyes a second too late and a scratchy piece hits my right eyeball.
It makes my eye water. Heck, do I need goggles? I rub my eye and blink like mad.
“Okay, fly,” Sam yells.
Thanks, Sam, you’re such a help. I adjust the hat and it wobbles. Sam’s head is bigger than mine.
Why am I doing this?
This is so like the time she made me show-jump—which ended in disaster. No wonder I prefer dressage.
What the hell am I doing?
Is this going to be another thing to add to my “never try that again” list?
“Oh, no, wait!”
My heart rate picks up at her urgency; my hands tremble and my wings jiggle.
“Oh my God, what?” I yell back. “Is someone coming?”
Sam waves her hand in the air and then digs her phone out of her pocket. She’d better not be thinking of filming me.
No, after some button pressing, a tinny sound of music comes from the phone’s speaker. “Is that…‘Top Gun?’” I ask incredulously.
Sam nods and gives me a double thumbs-up. “Okay, we are good. Fly.”
“Bloody Top Gun,” I mumble as I back up as far as I can. Sometimes the only way to learn is to throw yourself into it…
I blank my mind, take a deep breath, and flap like crazy as I sprint towards the edge.
“Arrrah!”
Let’s say the fall down was quicker than the climb up. I land on my bum with a crunch and a puff of hay.
Ouch.
Sam stands over me. With a big, silly grin on her face, she claps her hands and bounces on her toes. “Perfect. Now do it again.”
“Do I have too?” I whine.
She lowers her chin and in a deep voice says, “‘Why do we fall, Bruce?’” She pauses dramatically. “‘So we can learn to pick ourselves up.’”
“Batman?” I groan. Why am I listening to her, again?
“Yeah, love that line. Okay, again…again, more flapping…urm…less screaming. You’ll give me a headache.”
“Liar, vampires don’t get headaches,” I grumble as I scrape myself off the floor.
I go again. My wings flap like mad. I can’t say for sure if my efforts keep me aloft any longer, but I fall as quick. I land on my face in the middle of the hay, and the pile doesn’t cushion my landing, not at all.
I don’t like concrete.
To add insult to injury, the loose hat tips, cracking me across the nose. Blood dribbles down my face.
“More flapping”—she flaps her arms—“less falling, mmkay? Wipe your face, go again.”
After another unsuccessful attempt, instead of running I stand at the edge with my heart in my mouth. My breathing is ragged and even though my nose isn't broken anymore, it's bruised. It’s also blocked with crusty blood. My whole body is one big bruise.
Somehow, standing on the edge is way worse than doing a running jump. I close my eyes and I flap my wings, begging my magic to help.
At first, I try to flap them quickly, and then when that doesn’t feel quite right, I try a bigger movement. I concentrate on moving the air like it’s water, catching every little bit I can within the folds of my wings. I imagine I am swimming.
Eyes clamped closed, I feel…my toes leave the wooden boards.
I hover in the air for about twenty seconds, using muscles that have only just come into existence. My wings scream in pain and then my body drops like a stone. I whoop with triumph.
Sam is jumping up and down, a grin splitting her face from ear to ear. “You did it, you did it,” she chants.
“Oh my God, I did it. I can do this.” I grin back. I remove Sam’s riding hat and brush clumps of hay from my face and hair.
“Okay, enough for today. I’ve gotta go.” Sam grabs the riding hat from me and bounces away. “Same time next week?”
“Oi, what about the haynets?” I shout at her back.
She waves me away. “Yeah, you better get them refilled. Gotta go, I have another horse to ride. I’ll send you a bill for the flying lessons,” she cackles. I slump back into the hay and groan. “Oh, and Em, you are so badass.” I huff out a laugh.
“No, I’m not.” I drop my voice to barely a whisper. “But I’m going to be.”