Inhuman Bound Ch. 01

I went into the tack room and started pulling saddles out and loading them in the trailers. We needed at least two per, but the tack wouldn't be going with the horses if they sold. All three of us would drive, stopping to pick up a few other hands on the way out so we had riders for the nine horses we were trying to sell. This auction was one of the largest in the region, and one of the best ways to sell my training crops. Nine was a lot for us. We usually only had three or four. I'd sold mares off last year because I didn't need to try to be a big breeder.

Once everything was loaded, we got on the road, the diesels whistling and growling as we crawled along the dirt roads until we hit pavement. Tommy was the first to stop and pick up a couple friends, then me, then Jerry. The auction yard was a couple hours away, but we needed all nine of us to show these horses off. And these guys needed the commissions they got from the work.

Most of the auction went smoothly, with all of us riding through the various arenas and all but two of the horses sold before they ever even made it into the auction ring. The two that didn't hadn't had as many hours under saddle and were still skittish, but they were mares with good bloodlines and would sell even if it was only for breeding. I was up in the stands with Tommy, waiting on our mares to be brought through, when I heard an unmistakable scream. That sound was angry, and the rage that radiated out of the loading zone was almost palpable.

"Someone brought a goddamn stallion," Tommy cursed, and stood to try to see it. "Those sales were supposed to be tomorrow."

"That's not a stallion." I caught sight of a narrow little head through the gate just before they opened it and unleashed a tornado. She didn't buck or spin like a rodeo horse, she flew across the sand with her tail and head held high, daring the men to try to get close enough to grab her halter. "I want that horse, Tommy."

She was beautiful. Part Arabian, part something else, and all fire. Her hide was almost as bright as Astaroth's stallion, but instead of the silvery gray she was golden and had flashy white mane and tail and a half bald face. Her front feet were black, so she was a buckskin and not a palomino, but her hind legs were white and covered in filth like she'd been pacing. Nobody bid as the auctioneer started his twenty mile a minute jabbering, and I waited a few seconds before raising my paddle.

"We can't take that home, Ro. She'll bust herself up in the trailer."

The auctioneer pointed to me and kept going, then someone else raised a paddle. I let the auctioneer start calling it, and raised my paddle when he got to twice. The other bidder backed out when the mare knocked one of the auction handlers flat and shrieked out her frustration at being caught in this tiny little arena.

"I'll ride her," I said. "Henry can drive my truck behind us and I'll ride her until she's tired out and begs for the trailer."

"Didn't hear 'em say she's broke," Tommy said. But we'd done this before. I didn't need Arabian or pinto blood in my lines. The Arabian was too flighty, as we saw when the auctioneer called out my win and the hands let her out the second gate to the holding area. Nobody outside the paint and pinto tribes wanted that kind of color on their horses. But I bet I knew someone who would love her.

"She had a pad on in the chute and left it and the rider behind. Bet he did something to piss her off in there, thinking she'd prance out and make a pretty show. Whatever, it got her price down to two hundred bucks."

"You're not thinking of trying to flip an Arabian, are you? The last one we had was a pain in the ass."

"Nah," I looked up at him. All of them had met Astaroth at some point and seen his horse. "But I know a stallion who might appreciate her."

Tommy laughed, "She might be the one to put him in his place. She's too little for him, though."

Our mares came through after that, and while they weren't as flashy or flighty as the little Arabian they brought in a whole lot more than she did for her people. I walked back with Tommy and almost stumbled at the anger rolling off of this horse. With a whispered word, I checked her over and found what I hadn't seen in the arena. She was hell-got. Somewhere in her recent line was something not from this dimension, and she was pissed at her handlers. When we got to her holding pen, I could see why.

"Lay off!" I yelled, and Tommy went around to find the previous owner. I climbed up on the rail and sat and watched as the hands that had been waving every whip and prod at her climbed away, and a couple crawled.

"She's too much for you, little lady. Let us get her in your trailer for ya." One of the men leaned against the rail and I just glared at him.

"You've done a real good job of it so far. She's ready to kill all of you." I looked back at the horse and jumped down into the pen with her before the man could say anything else. She tossed her head at me, but didn't charge.

"Hey, Firecracker. You wanna get out of here?" She tossed her head up again. "Was it your dam or your sire?" I raised my hand, then lowered it to my hip, "Top or bottom?" She dropped her head and pawed.

"They piss you off? Bet they wanted you to prance out their real pretty and you showed them just how pretty you can be, huh?" She snorted, stood perfectly, and perked her ears up to me. "If you can get in my trailer without hurting anybody, yourself included, I might have a friend or two for you at home. Open fields when you want them, stall when you don't. If you don't like Firecracker, I have a friend you can whisper your name to. What do you say?"

The men were all laughing about the crazy lady talking to the horse, but this wasn't a horse. Not really. Sometimes you raise hell, and sometimes hell raises something of its own. She was angry, and confused, and probably didn't understand a thing about how this world worked because she wasn't meant for this world.

I held my hand out palm up, fingers flat, and didn't move. She walked right up to me and flipped her upper lip around my palm, then up my arm to my face. Then she raised her head and curled her lip in the same flehmen the stallion had done.

"Yeah, you smell my friends. Don't tell him I said this, but you're so much prettier than that old stallion. Will you put a halter on or are you rocking the nudity?" She shook her head and I laughed. "Naked it is, then. Follow me to the trailer and don't hurt anybody." I waved my finger at her and she snorted. "You can defend yourself if they're assholes, though." I turned to the men watching in awe, all their murmurs stopped now that she was standing calmly and behaving. "You hear that, boys? You threaten her and I won't stop her. Just open that gate, step the fuck back, and let me trailer her."

Nobody tried anything. No taunting whip cracks or paddle slaps against the floor or gates, and she followed me out like the most docile of nags. She kept playing with the shoulder of my shirt, but she didn't bite or anything. I think she was just happy to have someone talk to her like she was intelligent and not just some animal. Henry had the trailer open and she went right in without any issue.

"Magic," Henry said. "Whatcha gonna do with her, Ro?"

"I'm gonna let her run around in the pasture and enjoy herself for a bit. Maybe we can get her up in the parades this fall. She's definitely pretty enough for it."

Someone from the auction house came out with a stack of paperwork for us, including the little mare's Coggins and a pedigree, which I was a little surprised to see. She'd said hell was on her bottom side, and her dam was the only one listed there while the sire's side went back a few generations and was mixed Arabian, Pinto, Paint, and a surprising couple of Akhal-Teke.

That explained why she was so slim and she had definitely gotten that metallic look to her coat that came from the breed. She was a mutt, but she was a registered one. The rest was the sales transactions for the two mares and the seven others we'd sold outside the arena. They'd sold at the auction, so the auction house still handled the sales for us.

Back on the road, she did great. No excessive movement in the trailer. We all dropped off our helpers and then got back to the ranch around ten that night. I parked the trailer and talked to her through the window before letting her out, "I need you in the barn for tonight. The pastures are full and I don't want any of the old biddies out there to start something with you. That okay? I'll clean one out and put down fresh bedding for you." She snorted, and I took that for a yes and swung the trailer open and she backed out like a prim little champ.

"Do you always talk to horses you buy at auction?" I turned to see Astaroth leaning against the door to the barn, his arms crossed over his chest. Then he grunted and looked at the little mare again, "Where did you come from, beautiful?"

The mare stopped and did the same nuzzle and sniff of Astaroth as she had done to me, then looked at me. "I told you I had friends."

"She says Firecracker is an acceptable name," Astaroth said, his hand moving under her chin for a scratch. "Are you trying to play matchmaker?"

"You should have heard her, Astaroth." I walked into the barn and opened a stall then grabbed the cleaning equipment. "I don't know what she heard from her owners or the auction house staff, but she was pissed off when she came out of that chute. I could feel the rage coming off her. She said it came from her dam's side."

"You know he's going to want her," he said, walking around her while she ignored him.

"I think he's too big for her. And what do you know, maybe she's not ready for babies and will put him in his place. Your boy needs to be knocked down a few pegs." She tossed her head in agreement. "See? The lady gets the last say in that."

I had gotten the old bedding out of the stall and was carrying the bales of new when I heard a heavy clomping of hooves outside the barn, and then a familiar big gray head poked around the door. He didn't come in right away, though. I put the shavings in the stall and kicked them around a bit before walking the wheelbarrow out of the barn.

The stallion nickered softly and the little mare snorted and walked right up to him. She was just under fifteen hands and looked like a toy next to him, but she wasn't afraid of him. When he tried pushing her around a bit, she bit the shit out of him and stamped her foot. The stallion didn't try that again, just ran his muzzle over her gently.

"He says she's tiny, like you."

"He better treat her like a lady is all I'm saying. Her stall is ready." I put the cleaning supplies away and pointed at the stallion, "You can take her exploring, but don't leave the property and don't start shit with the other horses. No babies unless she agrees to it, either. And I would prefer y'all wait until February so I don't wind up with a foal on the ground before January."

The horses trotted off and Astaroth just chuckled, "I think I'm jealous of my horse."

"You should be. He's damned pretty," I teased. I walked toward the house, unbuttoning the long sleeve shirt as I went and dropping it in the hamper by the door.

Astaroth followed me through the house. "You bought my horse a horse."

"I couldn't leave her there," I stripped down to my underwear, but stopped him before he could try to follow me into the bathroom. "I hope she's happy here, but if she's not can you tell me?"

"She said you're the first human to talk to her like she was an intelligent being. I think she likes it here, and I didn't correct her on the human part." Then he bent and kissed me. It wasn't much more than his mouth against mine, but definitely more than a peck. "You made him very happy tonight. Thank you."

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I shut the door gently and went to the shower. His lips had been soft and he tasted faintly of the earth. Not like dirt or anything, but like the energy of the earth with all its life and death. It had made my brain go all mushy and my thoughts slide straight south, and it hadn't even been a steamy kiss. I took a very cold shower.

When I came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, he was laying on the bed. I managed to get panties and shorts on without losing the towel, and turned my back on him to get a tank top on. When I pushed my feet into my boots it got his attention and he sat up. "Where are you going?"

"Out to the barn," I reached for the heavy book that was my third grimoire. It was only about half full, but if I kept doing this I was going to need to make another one soon. Setting it on the bed I reached under the platform and brought out a leather case that held all my spelling supplies. "I need to work on the spell, and the office out there is where I do that."

"Has the Witchery thing taken any of your submissions yet?" As part of this deal, he'd gotten to listen to all of my rants and rambles about the one trade publication for witchcraft giving me rejection after rejection. They always told me there was nothing wrong with my spells, but they were too simple for the complicated things they were meant to do. Every. Last. One.

"No," I grumbled. "My spells are too simple to be able to handle complex activities, or some shit. I want my spells out there, but I want to be paid for the work that went into them. People don't need large pantries to work complex magic, and I've proven it over and over."

"And you use that copyright spell I taught you on every one, right?" He followed me out to the barn, where I kicked my boots off before going through the door that would take me to the office above the tack room. During the day, it was a sort of break room for the hands and the only room in the place with a window unit. I had one rule, though, no shoes to scuff the floor.

Inlaid in the wooden floor were lines of shiny pure silver. The first was a square set about an inch in from the door, inside that was a circle that just barely touched the square, and inside that was a nine pointed star. All of the hands were used to my office, and most of them had at least one practitioner of the arts in their immediate family. It had been a requirement when I hired them that they have an open mind about these things. The thing that got them was that I'm not a witch. I'm a summoner, and strong enough to summon even the nine lords of hell if I felt so inclined. Hence the nine pointed star instead of a pentagram. More is better, in this case.

"They've gone so far as to ask for the copyright spell, but if they won't even consider my other spells why should I give them that one?" The copyright spell made it so no one could copy my work, either directly or indirectly. Even a photo of the spell I sent in would be corrupted by the copyright spell. It was a handy little thing and I loved that it kept them from using my simple spells after they rejected them.

I set the leather case and the grimoire on the desk. I might not be using the grimoire tonight if I couldn't get this spell to work the way it was supposed to. He sat in the chair across from the desk and I stood over the desk. It was an old drafting table and had enough space for everything.

From the leather case I pulled a cheap plastic dip pen handle and a small box of nibs, an inkwell, and a bottle of iron gall ink. The pen wasn't important, but the ink was. Iron gall ink made in the old ways for the experiments. It was magically inert.

In my grimoire, I used an iron gall ink with a dye added that was a murky shade of green. It wasn't inert, but the green was pretty and we should like our grimoires considering how many times we would have to look at them.

Then I pulled out a thin notebook and flipped it open to my last page of notes. From under the table I grabbed a bowl and a stack of vacuum packed herbs and flowers. The mortar and pestle lived on a shelf, next to the pitcher of filtered water.

Last time I'd added dandelion, and it hadn't changed anything. So this time I left out the dandelion and added an equal amount of powdered air. How do you powder air? I have no clue. I don't make the ingredients, I just use them.

The smell of ozone filled the room before fading, and I stirred everything in the pestle with a few drops of the filtered water. It bubbled and fizzed, making a faint whistling sound, before the whole thing turned pink and shiny. I wrinkled my nose, then shrugged. Spells didn't always look wonderful.

I took a glass eyedropper and filled it with the potion then held it out to Astaroth. "Bottom's up."

He looked at the pink stuff and frowned, "If we're doing this, I say we make it a game. Truth or dare style, except drinking anything sparkly and pink is the dare part and if it works, one of us gets a truth."

"I was just hoping you'd be my guinea pig this time," I said. "But I can try it on myself if you're too chickenshit."

I took the eyedropper back and tilted my head, ready to take the potion, when he snatched it out of my hand. "I am not afraid of your little foofy spell." He squeezed the stuff into his mouth and coughed a little, a pink cloud of glitter puffing out of his mouth. "That's terrible. What is that? Shoe leather?"

"It should have been honeysuckle," I grumbled. "Feeling truthful? What's your middle name?"

"Don't have one, and no, it didn't work. If I start sparkling I'm going to punish you." He coughed again, and this time his lips were stained a little pink and I had to hide my smile by turning back to the table. "I could have told you air wouldn't work."

"Don't need your help," I said. Then I opened the door and reached into the little cooler we kept up in the hay loft and handed him a bottle of water.

So, powdered air was out, but it had definitely had an effect. I added to my notes, and then cleaned out the bowls and started again. Adding blueberry essence made the potion stink so bad neither of us was willing to try it. Adding fennel seed was promising, the potion even tasted pleasant, but it didn't actually do anything.

This was the problem with experimental casting. I'd already gone through the big hazards, but I was on the last ingredients that would fine tune this and that was always the worst. I had to go through each ingredient and try each iteration, and they weren't always wonderful. At least none of them would explode or turn me inside out or anything.

"Did you write down exactly what you did for that first one?" Astaroth asked. I glanced up at him and then had to look again. His mouth was smeared with pink, like he'd tried to wipe it off but just spread it around. "If you can adjust the taste on it, it might be a hit for Halloween or rock concerts."

As he shifted around in his seat, I could see that whatever shiny stuff had manifested in the first potion had become glitter and was making the lower half of his face sparkle like a rhinestone.

"You look so pretty in pink," I giggled. I couldn't help it. He looked ridiculous.

"Laugh it up. See if I help you again."

"Maybe I can tweak that into a lipstick."

I was laughing as I turned back to the spell work. The last ingredient in this part was stinging nettle leaf. I used a pair of tweezers and moved the measured amount over to the mortar. The potion did nothing, so I stirred it with the pestle. The laughter had stopped as I concentrated, grinding the nettle into the other ingredients and then adding the drops of water. That did it. Three extra drops and a clear potion formed in the bottom of the bowl.

I took the last eyedropper and sucked up the liquid. It was completely clear, and didn't even refract the light going through it. It was as if there was nothing in the little glass tube. Astaroth held his hand out and I gave it to him. Instead of taking the whole thing, he licked the drop off the end first and sighed before looking at me. "You get one question only."