Fate & Fortune: Stallion Ridge #6 Read online

  “Sky,” Cal said around a smile. “Afternoon. I was about to go for a run to scout some prospective expansion. Want to join me?”

  “I’m sorry to ruin your plans, Cal, but I actually came here to warn you not to run out there. I found Tech’ta, or Nightmare, tracks northeast of here.”

  Cal’s dark brows furrowed as he shifted his weight on his legs. “Hell and highwater. How many?”

  “At least fifteen from what I could guess.”

  “You tell Mack?” Cal paused as Sky gave a nod. “Good. I’ll make an announcement and get some flyers out to keep people from the area. This is some shit timing to get a herd of beasts nearby. Leo already promised that land out to some investors.”

  Sky’s stomach soured. “When did they plan on coming in to build?”

  “You know Devereaux,” Cal sighed. “Plans move fast. These people were going to help build some homes and maybe a bigger school out in that space.”

  “If they get wind of Nightmares out there, they’ll likely order them all killed. You can’t let that happen.” Sky shook his head. “They’ll not only die trying, but those are intelligent animals. They don’t deserve to be slaughtered for expansion.”

  “I understand, Sky,” Cal’s honest answer was heavy. “You know I don’t want that either. What do you need from me?”

  “Time,” Sky said. “And another set of wings.”

  “Time I can do. The wings I can’t guarantee. Gunner is our only hired set with a gun, and we’re spread thin.” Cal winced. “I’m guessing you’re not on the best terms with Lucas.”

  The mention of Lucas’s name made Sky’s faded scars ache. The Manticore had gotten in some serious blows before Sky had taken his tail.

  “You could say that. What about Leo’s man, the samurai?”

  Cal lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “Something’s going on that’s keeping Gin close. I think Leo’s life was threatened, but I can’t get details. Gin’s been stuck at his side for a week now.”

  “He didn’t mention what happened?” Sky mimicked his soft tone. “Was it someone in town?”

  Cal shrugged his big shoulders. “No idea. I think you’re on your own for now. I’ll do what I can, Sky. I promise.”

  “I know you will.” Sky nodded. “Thank you, Cal.”

  Cal tilted his head towards the train station. “Have you checked out the carnival crew that rolled into town today? Since I’m not going for a run, I figured I’d stop by and greet them personally. Want to tag along? Help me scope out any problems?”

  “Are you worried about problems with them?” Sky nodded the direction Cal had mentioned, and they set off walking together.

  “I’m always worried when it’s a new group I don’t know. I haven’t heard of any issues yet, but they’ve only been here a couple of hours.” He adjusted his hat and looked down at him. “Have you ever been to a carnival?”

  “No, but I know about them. They have various acts of strength and agility, maybe some magic and illusions people pay to see.” Sky had been curious about what to expect from seeing magic used as a show, since most Old World magic he’d seen was rarely rooted in the natural world. Elliot’s magic was a blend of twisting reality, displacing and controlling energy. The shop that had killed the poor Iara Wade had been using dark magic crafted from flesh and blood.

  Both realms of which Sky wanted no part in.

  “It’s all just for fun,” Cal explained. “Jugglers, contortionists, fire eaters, fortune tellers, that sort of thing. Makes for a fun evening.”

  Sky made a noncommittal noise but didn’t comment further.

  At the train station, Sky could see the cars being unloaded with bundles of fabric, wooden poles, and various trunks and boxes. The cars themselves were painted with various depictions of the acts Cal had described, with human and shifted folk swallowing sticks of fire, swinging through the air, or displaying cards. One car painted bright pink displayed golden, flamboyant lettering reading Celestine’s Caravan of Curiosities.

  Among the workers was a familiar shifted shape like the one walking beside him. The woman was quite possibly just as burly, or even more so, than Cal. Her Centaur fur was as ink black as the curls spilling over her shoulders. She hefted a large beam onto her shoulders like the thing was a twig, her hooves thumping into the ground as she walked. Someone must have pointed out Cal’s presence to her because she glanced to the side before spinning her head in his direction.

  The beam on her shoulders was dropped, causing a shout as a Satyr man leapt out of the way before getting cracked on the head by the failing death trap. She either didn’t bother to acknowledge him or didn’t hear him as she galloped over to Cal.

  “Brother!” she announced with a smile, her dark eyes twinkling in excitement as she slowed to a trot. Cal mirrored her smile and tipped his hat politely. The Centaur woman wasn’t having his style of formal greeting and moved in close to wrap her massive arm around his shoulders. Cal laughed, pulling his hat off to allow her to touch his forehead with her own.

  Sky didn’t speak their ancestral tongue, the odd yet beautiful, whistling language, but he could gather that she was proud and happy to meet him. There was a gleam to her eyes, wet with pride as she pulled back and gave him a hearty slap on the bicep.

  “Everyone knows about the Centaur sheriff of Stallion Ridge. Any Centaur you talk to past Worthington knows about you. And now you’re mayor!”

  Cal’s cheeks warmed. “I’m nothing without my crew and my partner. I’m sure the rumors have grown far beyond the truth.”

  She gave a snort. “Be proud, brother. We don’t get to be so much these days.” Her long, braided tail swung as she dispersed some flies, her eyes moving to catch sight of someone walking over. She waved her hand towards them. “Victor!”

  Sky turned to see who she was summoning, catching sight of a man strolling over their direction. The afternoon sun lit his long, auburn hair like an autumn fire, the strands blowing in the breeze like scattering embers. The black jacket he wore made his waist seem narrow; his long legs swung in a casual stride as he moved. The movement was familiar, graceful, and told Sky loudly that he wasn’t human.

  Victor smiled as he came over, his eyes hammered copper plates rimmed in black, his skin a tawny shade of brown warmed by summer. Something about the curve of his lips made Sky fixate a heartbeat longer than he normally would. There was something familiar about those lips.

  “You must be the Centaur mayor Aggie has been dying to meet.” Victor held out his hand and shook Cal’s. “You’re quite a legend.”

  Cal, still warm from the earlier comment, laughed and shook his head. “Hardly a legend. As I was telling Aggie, I owe my standing to my crew. Speaking of which, Sky is one of them.”

  Victor moved his eyes to Sky, sweeping over him so quickly Sky almost missed it.

  But he didn’t.

  “Nice to meet you.” Victor held out his hand and squeezed Sky’s, the connection like a brief roll of thunder in the distance. “I don’t think I’ve met a Native deputy before.”

  “I’m not a deputy. I just help when I can,” Sky corrected.

  “How long are you staying in Stallion Ridge?” Cal eyed the cars being unloaded.

  “A couple weeks. We should have the tents built in a couple days, so tonight we’ll just have some people out doing free shows for tips and have a couple games people can play,” Aggie explained, resting her hands at her hips. “You should come out tonight. I’ll let you win at arm wrestling.”

  Cal laughed, clapping her on the shoulder. “Thank you, Aggie. My honor will be in your debt.” Aggie’s attempted smirk was more of a bright smile, pride glowing in her cheeks.

  “There will be games, food and drinks. You should join us, if you’re free tonight.” Victor was addressing them both, but his eyes stayed on Sky.

  “Maybe.” Sky gave a noncommittal nod. Festivals were the few times Sky actively came into town for anything other than business, and the promise of somethi
ng new was alluring. His focus currently was trying to determine how bad of a situation the Tech’ta herd was going to be, not so much winning cheap games and getting snacks.

  No matter how interesting the carnival or the people running it seemed.

  Cal said his goodbyes to Aggie and Victor, allowing them to get back to work on preparing the area for the festivities.

  “They seemed genuine enough,” Cal mused as they left the station behind. “Maybe a little rough around the edges but nothing outwardly alarming.”

  “I doubt the workers will want to spoil a good setup with trouble. Getting kicked out of a town doesn’t get them money.”

  “Are you planning on coming back tonight for the games?” Cal looked down at him curiously. “You could help me scout out anything fishy with cheating and keep the drunks from causing a fuss.”

  Sky tilted his head. “I’ll try.”

  Chapter Three

  Victor considered himself a fairly lucid dreamer.

  It was something his mother always envied and told him was a precious gift. The dreams would range from flickers of memories, old conversations, and events from the previous day, to strolls through the mystical and nonsense. Some nights it would be a reflection of his youth; other times he was falling down a mountainside of fire.

  But his favorites were when the visitor came.

  He was infrequent and elusive, but when Victor could catch him, it was dazzling. This dream was no different. The visitor, a man made of shadows and whispers, stood dangerously close to him. He had no breath, but Victor could somehow feel the warmth of it across his lips. Fates, Victor had been wanting to be this close since the first time the visitor came.

  Kiss me, he would whisper. But each time Victor tried, he couldn’t.

  I need this. I need you.

  There was something so seductively dark and mysterious about this figure. Something Victor was drawn to, like sinking into the depths of the dark sea. Reaching out to touch him, he found the visitor slipping through his fingers, just barely out of reach. As if the ghostly figure was cleared away by his movements, his form too fragile to touch.

  Beyond where the visitor had been standing, Victor saw a glimpse of a cliffside before his eyes opened.

  So close.

  With a sigh, Victor pushed himself out of his hammock and scrubbed his face. Pining over the mysterious man of his dreams wasn’t going to get work done any faster, and Celestine was no doubt ready to get the party started.

  As dusk settled over the small town, the folk of Stallion Ridge came to see the newest attractions.

  The tents were far from ready, but that never stopped them before. While the workers took the night off to rest and get drunk, the stars of the show hit the streets to pull in future paying customers. Not only was this the best way to get asses in seats, but it gave them an idea of what kind of money to expect.

  Small towns were Victor’s favorites. They had nicer people who appreciated their skills and showmanship and often cheered and participated much more enthusiastically than the bigger cities. Sure, they didn’t carry as much money, but the shows were way more fun. The bars often would give them free drinks or discounts, customers would give them tips, and each of the performers would have their pick of partners for a night or two.

  Victor already had his sights on one.

  Sky was a captivating creature, both in physical beauty and his strangely dark aura. If his mother was still alive, she would have called someone like Sky a thundercloud of light, something otherworldly and rumbling with promise. She had called mysterious people that in the past, and Victor had never understood it until now.

  The Native was grand in stature, with dark russet skin, high cheekbones, and a proud brow line. His long, black mane reached past his shoulders and was thick and straight, and the muscles covering his trim form displayed his years of hunting and fighting. While his form was attractive enough for Victor to have wanted to pursue him, it was the eyes that truly hooked him.

  Their dark brown color was washed with the slightest hint of gold, like a layer of sand over a priceless treasure. His stoic face gave away nothing, and his eyes seemed to slice through Victor like phantom glass.

  Sky was clearly not human. Nor was he shifter.

  He was something else entirely. A Skinchanger, no doubt, but one that stood apart from his kin.

  Victor found himself searching the eager crowds as they set up their games and tables, hoping for a chance to speak with him a little more. Depending on the crowd, Victor might be handling one or three tables at a time. He had his own fortune telling area, with cards, crystals, and soft magic to help those enjoy their trip into the mystic and mysterious. There were also much more lighthearted affairs, like a shooting gallery with a peashooter and a stack of colored cans to murder, along with beanbag sacks to try and toss into a giant, grinning snake mouth.

  Victor would likely be running all three if the town was ready to throw money his way.

  As usual, Aggie performed her feats of strength near his area so they could take breaks together. Since brawn was her main attraction, when she wasn’t flexing and juggling cannonballs, she also hosted the strength-based games. Arm-wrestling a Centaur was one of her favorites.

  Among the street performers were a duo of brothers juggling knives, a Lamia dancer, men swallowing fire, acrobats tumbling and twisting, and, of course food, beer, and sweets for sale.

  Celestine was dressed in his full flair, which he didn’t get to do as often as he liked. Even in the more forgiving areas of the country, people still openly stared at seeing a Griffin in his shifted form, but Stallion Ridge welcomed it. His golden top hat and vest matched the glamor and shine of his bronze-colored feathers dipped in black, his wings tucked politely against his shoulder blades. His lower half, a brilliant mix of taloned claws in the front and lion’s paws in the back, made him almost as tall as Aggie’s Centaur form.

  “Step right up, my friends!” Celestine’s voice was crystal clear and harmonious in his Griffin form, his eyes as bright as his top hat. “We have games, prizes, feats of bravery, strength, dexterity, and mystic powers! All welcome, we are not a show just for adults! Wrangle the pups, kids, hatchlings, and your imagination!”

  Aggie was already swamped with children, three hanging off each arm as she flexed and lifted them off the ground. Yells and laughter littered the air as they squirmed with excitement.

  A little girl with a brown hat pushed past the crowd to Victor’s peashooter game. She raised up on her toes to see over the table where the pellet gun was waiting, eyeing the cans with suspicion.

  “You just gotta shoot the cans?” She tilted her hat back to look up at Victor.

  “You have to knock all six of them down with three shots,” Victor explained. “If you do, you get a prize.”

  “What’s the prize?” It was charming the level of curious suspicion she had in her small voice, like she was well aware of the trickery in the world but was too curious to be jaded.

  Victor plucked one of the small, child-sized metal guns from the back table near the cans. The metal toys were quite the prize for little cowboys and outlaws looking for a little more realism in their gunfights. He popped out the tiny revolver chamber to show her the small caps inside, then flicked it shut and pulled the trigger. The pop it made was tiny but loud, and the small puff of smoke that left the barrel afterwards made her brown eyes light up.

  “Daddy!” she called back, summoning a tall man with glasses from the crowd.

  “Oh, a cap gun. That’s all you need.” The man laughed, playfully defeated as he fixed her hat for her. He gave a sigh at her excited smile and pleading as she bounced on her toes. “How much to play?”

  “A nickel gets her three shots.”

  “Can you hit it in three shots, Marybell?” the father asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.

  “Yes!”

  “Alright.” It was clear where her skepticism came from as he answered, his side eye glance ma
king Marybell giggle like a little villain. Dad handed Victor a nickel and motioned for his cackling child to go ahead. “Aim for the bottom ones.”

  Victor came around with a stool for her to stand on, giving her a fair chance to actually see her targets. She braced the tiny gun against her shoulder like she had no doubt watched her father do a million times and stuck her tongue out to the side in concentration. The first shot missed entirely. The second grazed off the middle can. The third knocked a top one down.

  With all three shots done, Marybell sagged her shoulders and looked to her father.

  “I didn’t make it.”

  Her father slid another nickel across the table and came up to stand with his daughter. “Okay, look down the sight. See that bottom right one? We’re going to aim for that one, but we have to hit it straight on. You got it lined up?”

  She nodded quickly, adjusting her grip. Dad moved her shoulders, helped her aim, and squeezed her arms gently.

  “Hold your breath. When you’re ready, exhale and fire,” he said softly. Marybell breathed out slow and fired. The right can flew backwards, and the cans toppled, a clean victory for the little gunslinger. Her cheer of excitement got the attention of some of the other kids, which was perfect for business. Dad gave his daughter a hug and lifted her off the stool so she could claim her prize. Victor handed her the new cap gun she’d no doubt use to torment her father, along with a couple extra caps for the road.

  “I wanna show Papa!” She hopped up and down, brandishing her new weapon.

  “Show Papa what?” Gunner emerged from the crowd, a familiar and gorgeous figure at his side. Sky connected eyes with Victor and gave a nod for a greeting before turning his attention back to the crowd.

  Gunner scooped his daughter up in a hug while she proudly showed him her new prize. Marybell fired her cap gun to show her Papa the effects, giggling happily as he raised his eyebrows, impressed.