Heart and Hooves: An Urban Fantasy
by AJ
Chapter 1
The first time I saw him, it was midsummer and I was working the streets up on
the Hill. I was wearing my 'work clothes'—a clingy nylon tee-shirt so you could
see the rings in my nips, tight jeans ripped off about midthigh, a wide, black
leather, silver-spiked dog collar around my neck. I was working at projecting an
air of debauched innocence (which isn’t easy—try it and see). Since I was
standing right outside the hardest leather bar in town, I was getting lots of
looks from the leathermen walking in and out of the bar—appropriately called
“The Hellhole.” I was pretty sure someone was going to engage my services soon,
and I’d be able to eat for a while afterward, so I was in a pretty good mood.
He wasn’t much to look at: short, kinda chubby, amiable face—you know the type:
the kind you could take home to Mom and Dad and expect that they’d like him.
Normally not the kind I’d look at twice, ‘cause I don’t have much to do with
nice people anymore.
The thing that caught my attention was that he set my fey-dar off like crazy.
Yeah, I know all about ‘gaydar,’ and I got that in spades too. But it’s nothing
compared to how far away I can spot one of the Kin…and I usually make tracks
outta there when I do. One thing I don’t need is to attract the attention of
some Unseelie bastard and have him make my life even more miserable just because
he can. Nope, I swore off hanging with any of the fey a long time ago. I’m way
over that.
So this guy is strolling up the street, and I’m trying to be really
inconspicuous, projecting “I’m not here” like crazy, which usually works. But
when this guy draws even with me, he looks over and smiles a little and nods at
me, like he’s known I was there the whole time. That was when I knew he was one
of the really old ones…Shit! Just my luck. I knew I’d been spotted, and it was
only a matter of time before I ran into him again. I hoped I had enough smoke to
survive the encounter. I knew what the old ones are like—been there, done that,
barely escaped with my skin intact… most of it, anyway.
Just then one of the big dudes that had been eyeing me up and down as he went
into the bar a bit ago re-emerged, and headed my way. I wiped the worry off my
face—tricks don’t like to see a worried look, ‘cause then they think you got
“issues” and that puts most of ‘em right off. He leaned up against the wall next
to me and lit a cigarette, not even looking at me.
“Hey boy, how much?”
“I ain’t cheap man, but I play hard…and I don’t use a safeword.”
He took a drag on his cigarette and blew out a big cloud of blue smoke. I could
see it curling in the air where the streetlight shone through it.
“I think I’ve heard of you, boy…been making the rounds, haven’t you? Here’s the
deal: I get you all night, and I do whatever I want. I pay you a grand. We got a
deal?”
I shrugged, acting nonchalant. “Yeah, that works. Where you want me?”
“See that black pickup over there in the pay lot? There’s a big dog kennel in
the back. I’m going to get another beer, and when I come out, I want to find you
in that dog kennel. Naked. Got it?”
“Yeah, got it. In the dog kennel. I’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t jerk me around, boy—I have a lot of friends in this town.”
“I wouldn’t, Sir. I’ll be waiting for you.” I hit just the right notes of
nervousness and servility…sometimes I amaze myself. I won’t bore you with the
details of that night—let’s just say that dude was tough and mean, and he liked
edge-work. He’d done quite a bit of creative carving on me when he let me out of
the dog kennel the next morning, right back on the Hill, and I was sporting a
brand new PA that I hadn’t really wanted. But at least he was honest, and I had
a roll of hundreds in my pocket, and a promise that he’d tell some of his
friends about me. I kissed his boots just before I drug myself off to the bus
for a ride back to my place on the shore of Lake Washington. All part of the
act, you know…
The bus ground to a halt at my stop, waking me out a light nap. I stumbled to
the front of the bus, and the driver flashed me a concerned look.
“Hey, you ok, kid?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Just a long, hard night, dude.” I gave him a weary smile,
‘cause it’s one of the things I love about living in Seattle—people ask if
you’re ok, and even mean it sometimes.
When I’m not out doing no good, I hang in this tiny little postage stamp park
right on the shore of the lake. Almost nobody knows about it, and even fewer go
there when the weather is anything but hot and sunny—which is most of the time.
So I have the place all to myself mostly, and that suits me just fine. The folk
that live in the houses adjoining the park don’t pay much attention to what
happens in there as long as it doesn’t intrude, and I’m a pretty quiet guy, so
it’s no problem.
I was definitely ready for a little chill time. My back hurt hideously, and a
lot of the cuts back there were still oozing, I could tell. My tee-shirt was
shot to hell…better do some shopping with that K the dude gave me, too. But
right then I was too tired to think about it much. I just wanted to get in the
water and stop hurting.
I peeled down all the way and left my clothes lying on the bank. I walked out
into the lake, feeling the weeds and mud with my toes…it felt good, like home.
The cold water stung like hell in the cuts, but I ignored that, ‘cause it was
all gonna go away in a moment. When I was out about ten feet, and the water was
up to my lower lip, I waited for just a moment, anticipating the rush of energy
and the cessation of pain I knew was coming…then I took a deep breath and
changed.
Thank gods the change is painless. It’s quick too, which is pretty handy. One
moment I’m a short, dark haired dude, and the next I’m a wicked big horse, lying
low in the water. The horse is a lot meaner and trickier than when I’m a guy…the
first impulse I felt after I changed was to go find that dude from last night
and stomp him into road kill, but I controlled that pretty easily. I’ve had a
lot of practice controlling those kinds of thoughts—I suppose there are a lot of
people out there that deserve to be turned into a big, sticky pizza, but I don’t
need the trouble that sort of thing brings.
For those of you who are a little puzzled at this point, I guess I’ll explain.
Pay attention, cause I’m only going to tell you about this once, ok? I’m a Pooka.
I didn’t know that the first time I changed, and I freaked out over it, but I’m
used to it now. After I changed back that first time, I looked on the Internet
at the library and found out what I was…who knew? Back then, I was just a really
scared kid who thought he was going to drown himself in the lake, and all of a
sudden I’m this enormous, powerful horse. It was a lot to absorb.
Yeah, ok…so drowning myself didn’t work out quite the way I had imagined it
would. See, when I was real little, I was found wandering in a park up just
north of the U-district: Cowan park, actually. DSHS found me a place to stay
with a really cool couple in Leschi. I won’t tell you their names, but the man
was a professor at the U, and the wife ran a catering business. They were both
cool as shit—had a big house next to the lake, got me into school, all the good
stuff. But they had this son, Dan. How it is that two such cool people could
make a mean shit like him, I’ll never know. I was there about three months,
doing really good and all, when he started messing with me. He told me all older
guys did it to little boys, and I was naïve as hell, so what did I know? I told
him to stop, but he wouldn’t. When I threatened to tell the parents, he just
laughed and told me to go ahead—they already knew and thought it was fine. Dude
seriously fucked with my head but good. I won’t go into the details, ‘cause they
make me antsy when I’m the horse…like I want to go out and kill something.
So after about a year, I got tired of it all, and I couldn’t see any way to get
out of it, so I decided to go for a really long swim in the lake, if you see
what I mean. I left a little note in my mom’s sock drawer, telling her goodbye
and all…they were always cool to me, even if they did let their son have his way
with me (which, of course, was a lie. But I didn’t know that then). Then I
trudged down to the dock, stripped off all my clothes, ‘cause I didn’t want to
get ‘em wet and muddy, and walked out into the lake. I ducked under and held my
breath till I couldn’t hold it any more…when I felt this huge surge of energy
and suddenly I was standing there in the water up to my belly, and I was this
enormous black horse. It was a little startling.
I didn’t go back. I just spent a lot of time being the horse at first…it felt
good to be strong and tricky, I’ll admit. And time runs differently when I’m the
horse…doesn’t mean as much, I guess.
So now I’m sixteen, and I’m making my way doing what I know best. It’s not much,
but I’m good at it, and who cares what happens to me, anyway? I’m just street
trash, for real. And if I have a little secret that nobody knows, all the
better.