Chapter 19 Whitney
Whitney
I’m a good shot, but I’ll never go to the Olympics. I’m not that good.
My cousin Maren’s a stubborn narcissist, and she’s gotten better about it, but she won’t ever apologize voluntarily. It’s just not who she is.
Fruity Pebbles are pretty good, but they’ll never, not in a million years, be as good as Raisin Nut Bran.
Some things just are, and they can’t be changed.
Five minutes before, I’d have put Xolotl being hog-tied and left on the corner of our porch in that never-gonna-happen bucket, but there he is, staring up at me from the ground.
Gabe’s beaming. “Look what I caught. Said he was Xolotl.” He laughs, and he kicks the death god on his side. “Clearly a lie. Look—he’s bleeding all over the porch steps. What kind of horseman bleeds like a stuck pig?”
“Gabe!” My little brother’s a moron. “What are you doing?” I crouch down and start undoing the ties. “You shot him?”
“Barely grazed his shoulder,” he mutters. “I knew what I was doing.”
“You can’t go around shooting people, but especially not one of the horsemen.”
Gabe’s face falls. “But if he really was that powerful, why would he let me shoot him or tie him up?” Gabe crouches beside me, wincing as he offers me a knife to cut the bonds.
I snatch it from his hand and saw at the rough cords. “You’re such a freaking idiot.”
Before I’ve freed him entirely, Leonid and Izzy tear down the drive, the tires of the black sportscar skidding across the gravel to finally come to a stop. Leonid dives out of the driver’s side. “Stop!”
I freeze, only two thin strands of rope standing between Xolotl and freedom. “Why?”
“Baba Yaga says something shifted.” He peers at Xolotl. “She said. . .” He crouches down next to Xolotl.
And then Leonid’s flung a hundred yards away, sprawling back across the gravel.
“Yep,” I say. “That’s him.” I saw the last two strands, curious why he didn’t immediately murder my brother. Maybe he knew Gabe was my brother? That’s probably delusional. That knowledge would probably motivate him to kill Gabe faster.
Xolotl yanks the gag out of his mouth. “As I tried to tell your brother before I let him tie me up, I’ve retired from being a horseman.”
“Retired?” Leonid’s back on his feet, and he’s stalking our way. “Then go enjoy your life, and leave us alone.”
My massive horseman—er, retired horseman—stands up, and he’s easily got half a foot on the tall Leonid. “I can’t leave. The reason I retired is standing right here.” He smiles at me, and it’s the cutest, most tentative thing I’ve ever seen. “I came back for you, Whitney.”
Leonid punches his arm through the air, and Xolotl flies off the porch.
He twists mid-air and lands on his feet like a cat, though. “My patience is wearing thin,” Xolotl says. “I’ve been shot and tied up, so I don’t recommend you keep attacking.”
“Sorry about that,” Gabe says. “Misunderstanding.” He shifts his head. “And hey, looks like that gunshot wound’s already healed up.” He nods his head and smiles. “Pretty cool.”
Leonid hits Xolotl again, this time with a lightning bolt.
It looks like it kind of rattles Xolotl’s teeth, and he leaps up the stairs swinging, literally. One uppercut to Leonid’s jaw sends him sprawling down the way Xolotl came, and by the time he hits the ground, he’s also on fire.
Three more cars tear around the corner and spin, skidding down our driveway.
Leonid’s security detail, I assume. But it’s not nondescript Russian enforcers who climb out.
No, it’s Alexei Romanov—hot as ever—who jumps from the driver’s side and immediately streams water at Leonid to put out the fire, I presume.
Moments later, the burns on my brother-in-law’s body are gone too, though his clothes are still smoking.
“This feels like the Twilight Zone,” Izzy hisses, walking up the porch to stand beside me. “Your evil murder-horse fell in love?” She’s smiling. “You didn’t mention that part.”
“He’s not in love with me,” I say. “He hated me. He’s probably here because he’s pissed we put him to sleep.”
“Correction.” Xolotl steps up the stairs slowly, one step at a time.
The horse shifters we helped subdue Leonid, or at least, the shifters who tried to subdue Leonid, continue to climb out of cars.
Once they’re all out, they start to attack.
More lightning from Leonid. Wind from the burly Grigoriy, and ice shards from Alexei.
Aleksandr’s the last to engage, swirling strands of earth in tornado-esque formations that claw their way toward a very distracted Xolotl.
“I came for you.” Xolotl’s still looking at me entreatingly.
But he’s also batting the sequence of attacks out of the way, seemingly without thinking.
I can’t even tell how he’s blocking them, but he keeps on coming toward me, never looking away.
“Your family hates me, and I can’t blame them for that.
” He smiles again, and it’s tentative. It reminds me of a duckling, going out for the first time on the lake.
“But your sister’s right. I’m here because I fell in love with you, Whitney.
Actually, it’s more than that. My feelings for you were so strong, so profound that they changed who I am. ”
“Yeah, right,” I say. “The only thing less likely than you retiring as a horseman is you changing. Men don’t change for women.”
“I can’t speak to what most men do,” Xolotl says, “but you changed me fundamentally. I have a bright, pulsing golden thread in my soul now.”
Leonid freezes.
So do the others.
“What did he say?” Izzy asks.
My brother-in-law swears under his breath. “I see it,” Leonid says. “He’s telling the truth.”
“I had to choose whether to pluck it out or retire. I chose to keep it and hopefully win you over.” He steps closer, biting his lip.
“Even though I knew you might still hate me.” He clears his throat.
“I know that everything I am disgusts you, but I don’t have to kill anymore.
So maybe, if you had enough time, you could, I don’t know. . .” He swallows.
Death’s standing in front of me, proverbial hat in hand.
It’s absolutely impossible.
“Whoa,” I say. “That’s a lot of information to process.”
“I know.” Xolotl backs down a step. “For me as well.” He frowns. “I’ve never been able to read your mind, but I didn’t realize how much I relied on that ability with others.” He sighs heavily. “I suppose that’s gone with my retirement, and it’s unsettling, having no idea what anyone’s thinking.”
“You retired for my sister, so now are there just three horsemen?” Gabe asks. “Or, what? Because if there’s a job opening. . .”
Izzy slaps him as hard as she can. “Go inside, idiot.”
“Look, I’m just saying, okay.” Gabe’s smiling, but he does duck through the front door and disappear.
Moments later, my mom bursts through the front door with a tray covered in lemonade glasses. “I heard some people out here might be thirsty.”
Izzy glances at Xolotl and starts laughing.
I hit her this time. “Shut up, idiot. Actual thirst.”
“Maybe both.” If she doesn’t stop looking at Xolotl like that, I might hit her much, much harder.
“Could we go for a walk?” Xolotl asks.
“I think you should,” Leonid says. “Even if you don’t like him, he’s earned a walk by retiring, right?” He and Izzy keep glancing at each other.
“What?” I prod Izzy.
She shrugs. “It’s—as grand gestures go, leaving a job he’s had for thousands of years is a pretty good one. He gave up who he is for you.”
I can’t argue with her there. “Fine,” I say. “We can take a walk.”
“Should I come?” Gabe pokes his head out of the doorway. “I can bring my rifle, and if he gets any ideas—”
“Gabe.” I glare.
He throws his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll stay here.” But he’s smiling.
No one likes the supernatural things that have joined our family like my little brother does. I swear, I hear him almost every night, praying that he might one day be able to shift into a horse. It’s ridiculous.
Or maybe, in light of recent events, not that ridiculous.
“Where should we walk?” Xolotl holds out his hand.
Is he asking me to take it? Like I’d walk along hand in hand with death?
Alexei whistles and hoots.
Grigoriy does, too, only louder.
Leonid and Izzy both catcall, which is absurd.
“I’m going to kill them all.”
“You’re making a joke, I assume?” Xolotl’s watching me carefully. “I no longer have my life-extinguishing powers, but my elemental abilities can certainly deprive them of—”
I snatch his hand and drag him all the way down from the porch and toward Birch Creek at the back of our property. “It’s just a joke,” I say. “But if they keep being so annoying, I might let you.”
“It’s strange, not having the ability to end life.”
We’ve only gone a hundred yards, but I have too many questions to keep walking and walking. I stop, staring up at him intently as I ask, “What exactly did you give up?”
“I can’t read thoughts. My ability to simply take life is gone.” He shrugs, but he’s smiling, his baby duck smile. “I didn’t get a lot of details otherwise. I basically had to pluck the light strand and keep working, or keep it and see where things went if you didn’t hate me.”
“And you picked me?” I can’t really believe it. “Why would you do that?”
He releases my hand and steps right up next to me. His eyes drop to my mouth, and the corner of his mouth turns upward. “I’m not sure whether you remember this one moment we shared.”
He’s talking about our almost-kiss. “I—I remember.”
His hand lifts my chin. “I’ve thought about it ever since. Quite often.” He brushes that same hand down the side of my face. “I’ve thought about you ever since I bonded you—too much. Far too much. More than I’ve ever thought about any other human or even any other immortal beings.”
“But why?”
“I’m not sure.” He touches my shoulder. “What is this?”
I shiver.
He drags his fingers down farther. “This feeling whenever we touch.” He shivers this time, too. “It’s almost electric, but instead of pain, I feel pleasure.”