Page 101 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

“Thanks for not being a hater.”

I hug him.

He grunts. He doesn’t hug me back, but he doesn’t incinerate me, either. I feel like it’s a good first step towards making him a Brooks-Archer. “Take care of Izzy while I’m not around to do it.”

“I’ll sure try.”

Then I watch, a little sadly, as he and Izzy climb into a big, black SUV and drive away. Izzy’s face is pressed to the glass until the very last moment, and then she sticks out her tongue. I’m smiling as my sister drives away—headed very far away indeed.

I have three hours before my competition, and since Izzy gave me her key—she’s paid up on her apartment for four more months, apparently—I decide to take a little nap before I compete. I’m one of those people who goes hard and rests hard, too. A nap always helps me focus.

When I wake up, I realize I’ve overslept. That’s hardly a shock to me, since I sleep in about once a week. I snatch my bag, brush my teeth, and slide into my boots. I’m going over my mind-calming exercises as I open my new truck and climb in.

“Hey,” a guy says. “Who are you?”

I startle. “Uh, I’m Whitney. “Who are you?”

“Theo,” he says. “I live next to your apartment.” He points. “You must be Izzy’s sister.”

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 surround 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 in the mountain, but they all sure 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’sloud.

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 Iwanthim.”

---