The Scorpio Races - Maggie Stiefvater [90]
The other scream diminishes in the wake of Corr’s howl, which ascends to fill the space that’s left behind. The mares at the gate go wild with fear and I know the horses in the stable are worse for it. Corr’s pure, high scream is no different from the scream it replaced — except this one I can stop.
I listen and listen to be sure that Corr’s cry is the only one. One of my eardrums, the one closest to Corr, merely hisses. But my left ear hears no other contender.
Now I hold Corr’s halter in a tight fist and press my fingers against his veins, tracing counterclockwise. Corr’s scream falters. I press my lips to his shoulder and whisper to his rain-soaked skin.
The night falls silent. My right ear still hums, a radio tuned to an empty frequency. Malvern and Prince look at me. The broodmares at the gate shiver and huddle together. Inside the stable, the kicking has died down.
The rain streams down; there’s not a single dry thing left in the world. Across the yard, Malvern gestures shortly to me.
I lead Corr into the hazy light that Malvern stands in.
Malvern’s eyes flick from me to Corr, who’s black in the wet and the night.
“Have you changed your mind yet?” Malvern asks me. “No.”
Malvern’s tone is dismissive. “I haven’t, either. This changes nothing.”
I’m not sure I believe him.
CHAPTER FORTY
PUCK
As Finn predicted, the storm pounds Thisby for a night and a day, and by the end of that rainy day, we’re able to retreat back to our house. I’m relieved because I’d rather run barefoot in the Scorpio Races than try to sleep in Beech’s narrow ham-scented bed with Gabe again. Tommy’s eager to return home because he left his capall uisce in the care of his family across the island and he’s not certain how well they’re doing. I think that I’d like to meet Tommy’s family, if they are the sort who wouldn’t mind having a water horse left in their care while Tommy ventures out to save the neighbors. It’s not exactly like asking your mother to put out a tin of chopped meat for your cat while you’re gone. I know I must’ve met Tommy’s parents at some point — I must’ve met everyone on Thisby at some point — but I cannot accurately place them in my head. In my imagination Mr. and Mrs. Falk both have Tommy’s brilliant blue eyes and his lovely lips. I also grant him some siblings, while I’m at it. Two brothers and a sister. The sister is homely. The brothers are not.
By evening, we are ready to strike out. The boys are so manly that they have to ride in Tommy’s car again, but I make a hasty bridle by looping Dove’s lead line back through her halter, creating reins so that I can ride her bareback after them.
The door to the house slams, and a moment later, I realize Peg Gratton has come out to stand by me. Her arms crossed, she watches silently as I curry off Dove’s shoulders.
“Thank you again,” I say finally, because I need to say something.
She doesn’t reply, just lifts her eyebrows, like a nod without the head movement. “There’s still a lot of people who don’t want you on that beach.”
I try not to feel angry at her. “I told you I wasn’t going to be talked out of it.”
Peg laughs then, a sound like a crow cawing. “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about men who don’t want a girl in their race.”
My mouth says “oh” but my voice doesn’t.
“You just watch yourself. Don’t let anyone tighten your girth for you. Don’t let anyone else feed your mare.”
I nod, but I’m thinking that it’s easy to imagine someone being annoyed by me riding, but harder to imagine someone being willing to do anything nefarious about it.
I ask, “What about Sean Kendrick?”
I look at Peg Gratton, and she is smiling a small, secret smile at me, as masked as she was beneath the bird headdress. “You sure don’t like to do anything the easy way, do you?”
“I didn’t know,” I start truthfully, “that it was the hard way when I started on it.