Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
What sort of jockey brought a chicken to the races?
Time did as time was prone to do, sliding away on me. In the mornings, I worked with Alligator Bait, conditioning her to the best of my ability. Lucifer’s trainer proved to be three trainers, all of whom had died long ago but knew horses and races better than anyone else.
In exchange for teaching me, reviewing the race videos of the other horses, and preparing my strategy, they avoided a round in the dungeons. I questioned what happened to those facing the Devil’s punishments; I had never met more enthusiastic men in my life.
Then again, I could understand why they’d help me: they loved horses. They had been less than ideal people in their lives, but they wanted to see my filly shine as much as I did.
They loved the idea of a mere filly sweeping the Triple Crown.
Best of all, they believed she had a chance.
She had the heart. She had the speed. She had the build.
She had all the qualities that took a horse to the finish line.
Most importantly, she had me.
I believed in her.
Many jockeys did not believe in their horse, treating the animal as a way to get to the winner’s circle.
My parents would be a problem, as I continued to maintain the ruse we were going to the race as spectators. Fortunately, my parents had no care for who was riding and only paid attention to the names of the horses. To my dismay, both supported Alligator Bait due to her name, which made them laugh.
When they found out Alligator Bait was friends with Mr. Magic the Bold, and I’d caught the pair basking together in the horse pasture, they would lose their shit.
Fortunately, I’d gotten assurances from a few angels, several archangels, and the Devil that my influence on the old alligator would safeguard every little life on my property.
The baby alligators I’d rescued from that fateful night when the storm had brewed a tornado would be a problem.
Like Mr. Magic the Bold, they bore evidence of my influence and would never again be merely wild animals.
My favorite of them lived in the house, and with some help from the Devil, I’d fashioned a pond on the first floor for her enjoyment.
Joy had a coop near the pond, and the two kept each other company when I couldn’t be with them.
I’d named her Lady, as she was my precious little girl and anyone who thought otherwise was wrong.
The frizzle would be a problem for the races, however. What sort of jockey brought a chicken to the races? I worried for my sanity, but rather than complain about my self-made problems, I went to work creating the fate I wished for myself.
First, I needed to place top three in the Iroquois Stakes.
My placement in the race mattered. If I wanted to fly by night, according to the trainers, I was best off placing third each race until I reached a qualifier.
Taking first in the qualifier would put me in as a fluke, an unexpected red herring in the field.
I could, when I thought about it, understand how the trio had gone to hell. None were above cheating, although they made certain to instruct me on how to legally get around the rules rather than flaunt breaking them.
They also accepted I would likely just release the demon and urge her to place first each and every time.
None of them had seen a horse capable of winning every race before.
As warned, Yuless led the pack in bad pie baking experimentation, and as I appreciated his willingness to throw himself under a bus for the sake of a potential date, I dealt with the regret.
Worse, my idiot of a boss got into the action, and nothing disturbed me quite as much as observing a pint-sized irritation crawl over my kitchen counters attempting to create dessert.
Fortunately, Isaac helped and handled the oven parts of my boss’s adventures, but much like everyone else struggling to be less useless in my kitchen, he created disasters more often than not.
Only Isaac’s efforts spared me from true suffering, as he whipped together peach pies worth writing home about at soul-soothing frequency.
In the evenings, I waged war with Mr. Durant. I sought to grow his empire while he sought to add me to his collection. It had started small, with an emailed invitation to move my abode into his, which he’d spruced up since its rise from the lake’s depths.
I’d refused his invitation through grabbing his scrawny scaled ass and punting him into the lake again.
He’d learned to email similar invitations when safely out of my reach, earning my frustrated screams. Sometimes, he saved emailing such invitations for when I was witnessing the latest atrocities being committed in my kitchen.
When that happened, Yuless and Isaac dealt with me screaming, pulling my hair, and swearing to pluck the black blight’s scales the next time I saw him.
The only thing the Destroyer of Georgia might accomplish involved the complete eradication of my sanity.
Two days before the race, as I wanted to give my horses a chance to settle before turning their lives upside down, I piled into my truck with Yuless, Isaac, and Ashley.
Unfortunately for my sanity, the entire flock of dragons would be attending the race, and the ones that hadn’t flown themselves hitched a lift with Lucifer, as the Four Horses wanted to go on an adventure, too.
I considered crying, but fortunately for me, everyone had loaded up pretty as a picture, even Moon, who grew worse than a weed and would become a beauty of a weanling in no time.
After the death of his mother, I intended on taking my time with weaning him, although I suspected Zenzi would be the one to actually decide.
In the time since I’d brought the little baby home, she’d nipped, kicked, and squealed good manners into him, and all it took for her to bring him into line was a single snort.
Aware I hauled precious cargo, I eased the truck and trailer through my gate, pulled over, and waited for Lucifer to bring his rig out.
Unlike my vehicle, which was a regular truck with an insane tow-haul capacity, he drove an animal transport, as wide as legal without counting as an oversized and making use of every inch of allowed length.
It could, in a pinch, haul forty horses, and it was meant for evacuation situations.
For the trip to Churchill Downs, he’d be hauling the Four Horses and David, although I questioned why he had set up ten individual stalls in the rig.
I hauled Buttercups, Zenzi, Moon, and Alligator Bait, and the only reason I wasn’t hauling David was because Moon was old enough to ride in his own stall and David would be more comfortable in the larger rig.
I would stop every few hours to give Moon a chance to nurse, but he already began the process of weaning on his own, finding grass and grain to be to his liking.
Ashley sat in the front passenger seat, and she giggled over the Devil’s rig. “That thing is insane. I thought he was taking the other truck and trailer!”
“I did, too. But no, he decided he was bringing a monster transport. I’m concerned, however.
First, the Four Horses are coming with us.
Second, I’m worried he’s going to make us do a demonstration race with the Four Horses.
They love racing. If there’s a demonstration race, that means Zenzi is going to be running. If Zenzi is running, we’re all riding.”
That got both my housemates sighing over their misfortune.
Yuless snickered but otherwise kept quiet, fiddling on his phone.
To better train Alligator Bait, we ran races with the Four Horses, and Ashley, Isaac, Realt, and Saurrel tended to be the poor bastards forced into competing against me. Alligator Bait hated losing, and every time the Four Horses kicked her ass, she redoubled her efforts.
I’d even, with some cooperation from the devilish horses, taught my precious mare the value of holding back, running the outside line, and biding her time until I dropped my hands and let her fly.
I carried a crop, but I hadn’t needed to use it since she’d learned she was to bust her ass after I dropped my hands and held on for dear life.
We were a team, and I hoped we would best the other horses and jockeys. The jockeys I would have a slight advantage over.
I only had one horse to worry about.
Most of them rode numerous horses, which barred them from developing bonds with theirs as well as I could with mine. My trainers included the best the world ever had to offer, treacherous in their ways but willing to give me their best to prevent a round in the dungeons.
“We’re riding a demonstration race before the actual race,” Isaac informed me in a guilty tone. “You’ll be riding Aramathea.”
“Who?” I frowned. “Did I pick up a horse I don’t know about?”
“His gift is getting picked up after we’re on the road, and you’ll get to ride her in the demonstration race.
He wanted a heavenly representative in all the sin that’ll be prancing around the track.
Lucifer will be riding his nephew, Darlene will be riding Conquest, Kanika will be riding Malcolm, and we’ll be on War and Pestilence.
Belial will be riding Zenzi. It’s going to be a clusterfuck,” the incubus announced.
“Lucifer planned it this way because there will be inevitable complaints that you’re not a valid entry because you’re a woman.
The complainers will shut up because you will have just ridden a race ten minutes prior to the start of the Iroquois Stakes, which means you are at a severe disadvantage.
You’re going in fatigued. They are not.”
Fucker jockeys. My trainers had warned me, repeatedly, this sort of shit would be common. “I will crush them fairly,” I swore.
Ashley giggled. “I’m riding War, and Realt will be riding Death. Realt is going to be showing up in his full form to scare the piss out of people for the fun of it.”
What had I gotten us into? “My parents are going to kill me, aren’t they?”