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I discreetly threw my gum on the floor where someone would be sure to get it all over their three-hundred-dollar shoes
The bartender practically knocked down a waitress in his rush to ask my boobs what they would like to drink.
Chasing the very elixir of life with that swill, how could she? Disappointing.
Wyatt loaded the gun and commented that he was out of bird shot, so we were using slugs. I gleefully envisioned cramming slimy slugs into a shotgun and blowing them out the barrel. That would be so cool. Someone should invent that. Everyone would want one.
“Did I hit anything?” I asked Wyatt. “No, and if we’re lucky you missed the neighbor’s cows.”
“my kill, my rules.”
“Do you still have the information on your predictions?” I asked Wyatt. “That repression analysis you did?” “Regression analysis.
We drove to a nearby breakfast diner so Wyatt could run his registration analysis and we could all have Moons Over My Hammy with some much-needed coffee.
The pair left to run their errands and I was alone in the no-tell motel room.
This was hell. Not that medieval painting of horned dudes gnawing on limbs and fucking asses. Wet jeans were far worse than chewed up limbs and a sore rectum. I knew this for a fact.
“She was raised on a dairy farm. Cows are the same as horses, so you can trust her.” Crap, I hoped she wasn’t going to try and milk my horses.
Especially since they were all geldings.
I wondered if he was still scared of me. I wondered if we’d ever have sex. Hopefully soon before he got old and less attractive. Humans have such short lives, and are not very appealing in the early or late stages of them.
About a half hour into my musings, Wyatt rolled over and grabbed me pulling me across the bed to him, squashing my back up against his chest and wrapping his arm and leg around me. I think they call it ‘spooning’. I froze and didn’t know what to do. I’d never slept with anybody. We just don’t do this sort of thing. It was like being in a straightjacket; one that breathes on you and wraps your legs up too.
Another testament to my incompetence. This guy probably thought I was a total boob. I was beginning to think I was a total boob.
TaDa! I’d freaked them out with my arm sawing, and now I’d wowed them with my folkloric knowledge. Better not be any more talk of finding someone “better” or I’d have to start chewing limbs and fucking asses.
I shrieked in rage and hit the wall with my fist. That wasn’t helping, so I turned around and grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be Craig’s dead body. With a blast of energy, I ripped his arm off at the shoulder and began smashing it against the wall with all of my might. “Son of a bitch!” I screamed. “Damn mother-fucking cock-sucking son of a bitch!”
“Mine.” It was quiet, but the word pulsed with power. Certain words are more than just words. Certain words can carry the strength of all creation. This was one. I used it when I Owned a being, I used it when I claimed territory, when I created a household bond. I had never used it with such power behind it, though. I felt it slam into me and wondered what he’d meant. In what way had he claimed me?
“There is equal beauty in the things called horrific. The act of destruction is an expression of beauty, too. I destroyed the bottle to make the horse. Is a pretty glass horse worth the loss of a bottle, but the sound of shattered glass and bits flying through the air isn’t? Is transformation only worthy if you approve of the end result?”
Otherwise, I’m liable to get angry and do all sorts of things I’ll really enjoy now and mildly regret later.”
Anger, envy, and pride,” I ticked them off on my fingers. “I don’t often have much use for them. It’s a shortcoming that I’m hoping to correct in the next millennium or two. I’m not very old; I can’t be expected to have mastered them all yet.”
