Replacing his classic muscle fifty-block with a new age engine powered by magical stones was the smartest shit he’d ever done. Buck arrived at Jack’s Real Estate and Legal Services in three minutes. He’d spent almost an hour arguing with that god damned city man about permits and regulations. It was exhausting when suits only smelled money.
Omari, their eldest son, was fed up with assholes and called his pappy. Buck was happy to play ref and calm the blue-blooded human down. He was lucky town folk had voted on this project, otherwise, they wouldn’t have shit.
Buck didn’t want a three-level shopping monstrosity in their town. It’d be an eyesore and attract trouble.
“Hiya, Buck,” Chelsea sang. Her wings fluttered as he removed his hat. “He’s in the bathroom. Got a little too happy with an eldonberry smoothie. I tried to tell him to take it easy but…”
“Mom, please.” Jack hung his head, fixed the tie, and exhaled a ragged breath. “Come on, Buck. Let’s talk in my office. Ma, hold my calls.”
“I know it.”
Buck tipped his hat, making Chelsea blush. She was a spry woodland fairy and didn’t look a day over sixty-five, though pushing four-hundred. She wasn’t in the market for relationships, but he knew how Chelsea liked to dip and dive on it.
“What you call me for, Jack?”
“Close the door, would ya?”
Buck grunted as the latch clicked. “This feel like bad news.”
Jack settled behind the desk, his stained glass wings twitching. He was a handsome fella, but off limits given how the wife and Buck nailed his mama to the headboard once —twice—twelve times at least.
He grabbed a seat and waited for some bullshit. Jack tugged on the point of his right ear and rocked in his executive chair.
“I’m coming to you because my mother asked it of me. This ain’t typical. Don’t be thinking that I’m running my mouth about everyone, but I thought you should know, the Palison purchased some land. The Carters’ old farm. As you know, Packard died last year. His kids opted to sell. And…”
“Why ain’t you say no?!” Buck glared at the man. “Why didn’t you just—“
“Just what? Buckley, I have ten kids.”
“We all got kids!”
“I’m the only income my family has. When faeries leave Lightbridge, their is no support for us and—“
“I know. Shit god damn it.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe it’s a coincidence.”
“No. No. Shiland was buried four months ago. I know—I figured—“ Buck cut the commentary and stared at flat, gray carpet. He’d known this day was coming but damn, not this soon. “Thanks for telling me, Jack.”
“Sure thing.”
“Is the deal closed?”
“Not yet, ten days.”
“Got it. Thanks again.”
Buck gripped wood grain and peeled tires out of the parking lot. He would have stayed in the streets longer, but now, he needed a second alone, in his element. Pushing two hundred horses down the strip of road leading back home, he turned up his comfort tunes.
Highway 56 snaked across the continent. From Lightbridge, to Ravensguard, and continuing through Brasshorne. It ended at the tip of the world, Frostwinds Edge.
Four territories with four crowns.
Buck groaned, parked in the garage, and killed the engine. He cleared the vehicle and sneaked through the side door. Left of the detached garage was the wood. A dense thicket holding his past and dearest of memories. Before crossing the tree line, Buck tugged off his boots and t-shirt.
Barefoot and half-naked, he entered the dark beyond and whispered hello to the sneaky elm, old oak, and wise willow.
“What in the hell y’all been up to? Boy, do I got some crazy shit to tell you.”