Blackstone and Broken Things

Chapter 2

By the time Nathan had arrived in Greensveil, he was filthy, covered in a mixture of dust and mud that reached him from the tips of his boots to the top of his hat. With a little over a day's worth of growth covering his cheeks, for all the world, he looked like an ill-fortuned highwayman.

His rough appearance was the furthest thing from his mind as he sped down the road, kicking his horse into a faster pace the nearer he grew to Blackstone and his reason for returning to the accursed place. Despite how close it had been to Stonebrook, he had always gone out of his way to avoid it. Avoid it and the memories it conjured, things that he kept far from his thoughts, things that were trying to overwhelm him as he battled to push them down. Lock them away and bury them deep, so deep he would never find them, nor they him.

He was so focused on the mental battle waging within him that he didn't notice the monstrous honey-colored horse that came thundering around the bend.

The great beast's sudden shrieking appearance caused Nathan's mount to rear up and throw him to the ground. A cloud of fast-fading dust was the only tell as to where his horse had gone, though the moronic mammal's direction was vaguely acknowledged through the pain that assailed him. Even the screeching, stomping beast before him was of little consequence as the world blurred and slowed.

With a groan, Nathan rolled to his side. His vision was blurry with pain-filled tears and dust; he felt as though a barrel had been dropped on top of him as he struggled to regain his breath. It wasn't until he noticed a white form moving toward him that he managed to focus past his pain. A distant voice filled his ears, though the words were lost to him. The world had yet to right itself, but there was enough for him to make out the shape of a woman. She was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. Her simple white dress glowed in the sun like a flame glowed in shadow, and her coffee-colored tresses flew about her sweet face; she had to be an angel; she was too entrancing to be anything else. And with that thought, he smiled and laughed, though it pained him greatly to do so.

He was dead, he thought gleefully.

Called to do the Earl's bidding, and he had met his death on the way. He could think of no better way to spite the bastard. Let the miserable wretch try and get to him now.

With yet another pained breath, he stared at the vision before him. The world seemed to slow as she drew closer, and right it should; such beauty was something to be savored, relished. The world was right to stop and gaze in awe as she passed, even if she was an angel of death sent to collect his worthless soul. He could not think of anything better than to have such perfection come for him.

But she hadn't.

To his utter surprise, she ran past him.

Suddenly, the stillness of the world regained its former speed, jarring him to his senses and leaving him gaping, speechless, staring at the backside of the beauty before him. His angel had come for the horse.

The bloody, screeching horse!

Even as he lay there staring at her in stunned pain, she tried to quell the monster that had sent him to the ground so unceremoniously. Nathan couldn't decide what astonished him more, her attentiveness to the beast or her total disregard for him, the man who had yet to rise because of said beast.

"Roman! Roman, be still!" the woman commanded, grabbing hold of the brute's bridal, jerking his head down to her and holding it against her as she spoke to it. "Hush now. You're all right. You're all right," she cooed, caressing its snout until it stopped its childish stomping. Slowly releasing the bridal, she reached into the pocket of her dress, pulled out a handful of oats, and offered them to the great snorting animal.