I frown.
“Izzy’s single little sister, right?” He shrugs. “I saw you visit, like September maybe?”
“Oh.” I nod. “Yeah—early October. I came for a school thing and stayed for a Halloween party.”
“Black cat,” he says.
And now it’s getting a little creepy. “Alright, well, I’ve got some bullets to fire.” I pull my gun out of my holster and show it to him. “You into guns?”
He blinks. “Uh, no, not really.”
I can’t help my smile as he walks away. Failed the litmus test. I doubt Leonid would have run from a gun. Most all the other guys I meet do.
A few minutes later, I’m surrounded by guys who like guns. You’d think I could find my perfect match here, but I’ve discovered that my skill makes it even less likely. Most of the men I compete against resent the fact that I’m a better shot than they are. It’s funny—guys think they’ll love the idea of a girl who can shoot. And they do, right up until I shoot a perfect circle around their one lopsided, off-center shot. Not many guys like to be shown up in the activity that makes them feel manly.
So I keep beating them all and going home by myself.
Every guy I meet’s either not manly enough, or too ‘manly’ to handle being shown up by a girl.
Today’s a little different, though. In the middle of my third round, there’s a massive earthquake. I glance at my watch and realize my sister’s plane’s already in the air. It’s probably for the best. Another huge earthquake would have her freaking out for sure. I’m not sure I buy that there’s some kind of horrible death-monster lurking underneath the mountain, but they all seem worried about the prospect.
After watching Leonid wrap cars in air—I’ll take their word for it.
The competition takes a hiatus, and they’re making calls, and people are frantically rushing around when there’s another quake. This one’s much larger, and it’s loud.
People all around me start screaming, and then the mountain behind our targets rips open with a horrible screeching wail. Everyone loses their ever-loving minds. That’s very, very bad when they’re all holding guns. In spite of what we’ve been taught, at least two people fire a shot off—at what, I’m not sure.
“Knock it off,” I say as loudly as I can. “Everyone should have their safety on.”
Only, in that very moment, there’s another grinding sound, the loudest yet, and then a crack like Thor struck the mountain with a hammer the size of an elephant. And then a large, long, dark crack opens up in the earth and starts running right toward us.
People are screaming even louder now, and most of them are racing for their cars. Because that makes sense. Trap yourself in a small, metal box while we’re running for our lives.
And that’s when a massive black horse leaps through the opening in the side of the mountain and lands on his spread hooves, his mane and tail billowing out around him, smoke pouring from his flared nostrils, and flames burning where his eyes should be.
It’s the most beautiful horse I have ever seen.
I pick up my phone, and I call Izzy. It goes right to voicemail, so I leave her a message. “You’re never going to believe this, but I’m standing right in front of Xolotl.” I chuckle. “He’s the most magnificent beast I’ve ever seen, and I want him.”
I try to snap a photo, but my phone starts to melt in my hands. I drop it, unsure whether the message went through. I realize that I may be about to die. The woman next to me has begun screaming like a banshee, and then her head bursts into flame.
I pick up my gun, click the safety off, and then unload all eight bullets into the black horse, just in case. It doesn’t appear to have any effect at all, until he rears back, throws his head forward, and screams at me. I figure this is probably when I die, so I cock my arm back as far as I can, and I chuck my Ruger right at his head.
It spins, end over end over end, but my aim’s not as good with throwing as it is with shooting, and it winds up smacking him in the chest instead.
“Well, shoot,” I say. “That’s just going to piss you off, isn’t it?”
He throws his head again, his mane rippling beside him, and then he takes off at a dead run. I’m sure he’s going to run me over, but instead, he swerves, and I realize he’s going to run right past me. Only, there’s a crack following along behind him like a freight train, preparing to swallow me whole.
So when he passes me, I flip sideways, brace my arms on his withers, and leap onto his back. “If you’re going this way anyway, be a doll and give me a ride.”
He screams, but he doesn’t buck me off.
Good enough.
Only as he runs, I notice something. Houses on either side of us catch fire. People run from them screaming, but he doesn’t slow or stop. He just keeps galloping. He’s headed for town, and that seems like a very bad place for the fire-starting misery beast to go. I decide to do something else that I’m sure is very stupid, and instead of simply clinging on for dear life, I use my legs to try and guide him to the side, and back toward the mountains where not many people live.
It works. He swings wide, and pretty soon, we’re not headed for town. We set fewer and fewer homes on fire, and I’m a little proud of myself for sparing all those people this miserable death. Plus, you know, property damage averted is always a good thing. Higher taxes on everyone and all that.
