“Well, I don’t think you’ll perish without an ambulance, and I’m not turning you out in this weather, lass! We’ll get you warm and get a brandy into you, and you’ll be better after a good night’s sleep.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. A few hours ago, I thought my boyfriend was going to propose to me on Christmas Eve on a snowy mountain top, or even tonight, in front of a winter sunset. Guess who found out he wanted something completely different? Guess who found out everything he said had a secret meaning?” I wipe my eyes, surprised at how cold my fingers are, even after Nigel rubbed them and peeled my wet, freezing gloves off. “This idiot. That’s who. I’ll take that brandy now, please.”
Nigel rises from his knees—and I gasp.
A magnificent horse-like body fills this room, with a broad brown chest and hooves as wide as hubcaps with feathery fur around them.
“I... You’re a ...”
“Equisapien. The Greeks called us centaurs. They loved to misname ‘monsters,’ you know.”
“Oh, God. I got a fever, didn’t I? Am I dying in a snowdrift? Or was Joe the Trucker actually Joe the Slasher, and I’m lying bleeding out somewhere on the side of I-80?” I whisper, hands over my mouth.
Nigel snorts, and his tail whips.
He has a tail.
A hysterical scream bubbles up in my throat and sticks there.
“You’ve had a rough night, but not that rough. You’re just stranded with a centaur.” He manages a half-smirk, a dark twinkle in his eye. “Would you rather be stranded with your ex? Or some unsavory slasher who tracked you through the blizzard?” He shakes his head. “What were you thinking, alone at night, in this weather, in the dark and bitter cold?”
He has a point. I try to sit up, but the room shifts in an ugly way, white lights from the beautifully decorated tree in the corner turning into blurry diamonds. “I was... I was trying not to make it hurt any worse than it already does,” I whisper, eyes closing.
Nigel’s voice is soft. “Ah. Well. I can relate to that. What’s your name, by the by?”
“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry. It’s Briana. I’m Briana Wasserman.”
“When did you eat last, Briana?”
I think back. I was so excited—and I didn’t want cheese puff powder on my hands for the engagement ring picture I was sure I was about to take. “Breakfast?”
Nigel’s tail whips again, and he shakes his head. “Stay there. You’ll not go starving on my watch, and that’s a promise.”
Someone who keeps his promises. Means what he says. That’ll be refreshing.
Chapter Four: The Weather Outside is Frightful
Iwhisk eggs with a vengeance and throw some proper English sausages in the pan as the lights flicker. I glare at the light fixtures above my head, daring them to go out before I’ve made Briana something to eat.
They don’t.
“You don’t have to go to all this trouble. I just need a ride,” Briana calls. “In—in a car. Not on... Uh...”
“I didn’t expect you wanted to ride me,” I call back, a dry chuckle under the words.
Followed by a completely inappropriate image that smacks of Lady Godiva and shocks me so much that I burn my fingers on the sizzling side of the cast iron pan.
“Right. Um. Do you drive?”
“Yes, and a damn sight better than most Americans,” I grouse, rinsing my fingers under the tap.
“I thought I recognized that accent? Is it English?”
“Newcastle.” I leave it at that, since most Americans are as bad at English geography as we are at American geography.
“This isn’t some sick joke, right? Or special effects? Mr. Fenclan doesn’t have a channel where he uploads videos of his buddies scaring the shit out of his paying customers?”
“I don’t think Ian would have the foggiest how to upload anything but a deer or boar into the back of his truck. This is no joke. What you think of as monsters or myths live around you all the time, and the human brain conveniently blots them out.Once you’re better, you’ll leave, and the memory will probably slowly fade. Wouldn’t have registered in the first place if your mind wasn’t weak and exhausted.”
