Halloween I.F. – “Something Rich and Strange” – Day 11

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“DON’T GOT TIME FOR WHAT, HUH?” Georgio asked, leaning into Star’s personal space. “FOR YOUR RIVAL, HUH? FOR THIS FINE HUNK OF A RACING SPECIMEN? YEAHHH?”

Star couldn’t stop thinking about it. If Dandelion viewed Dom as a romantic rival, what did that mean? Star knew Dandelion, knew he wouldn’t act against Dom—couldn’t imagine that in his personality, even if Dandelion were a noble sidhe and jealousy was a fairy’s lifeblood, even if fairies were the most possessive creatures crawling out of this green earth. No, it wasn’t like this was a lead on the situation in any way. But it was a complication, it was something that made Dom being used against Dandelion even more of a conflict. Did Dandelion even want more from Star? He’d never said anything. And he wasn’t even sure if Dom wanted more. Maybe Star should just swear off lovers. Maybe he should take an oath of chastity. Maybe he should run away.

And anyway, it’d be irrelevant what it meant if anything happened to either of them! 

He hadn’t answered Georgio, and Georgio didn’t like that. “YOU STANDING THERE LIKE YOU’RE ‘BOUT TO PUT DOWN ROOTS, YEAH, BECAUSE I’LL PULL YOU RIGHT OUT LIKE A DANDELION AND BLOW YOU AWAY.”

“Get his fucking name out of your mouth,” Star yelled back and kicked Georgio in the head. 

It was distinctly less effective than it would have been in his other form, but Georgio staggered anyway. Star drew a deep breath, lurching back to the other wall to put space between them. 

Georgio’s voice dropped out of its constant bellow, though it was still an aggressively monotone growl. “You okay, Son? That shit ain’t like you. If you got a problem with the Manotaur, we’re supposed to work it out on the track! But if you want it to be a brawl, you try comin’ at me again—” 

“The track,” Star said. He drew another breath. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He’d come here to question people. Georgio was one of those people he had meant to question. Georgio had been here when the strangers were here talking to Dom. Georgio was one of the few people who knew about the accidental double booking! But his blood was up, pounding in his ears. No, Georgio had it right, for once. “I’m having. A day. Can we run? On the track?”

“An informal race, huuuh?” Georgio growled. “Yeaaaaaaaaah, let’s go, ya little piece of nori, I’ll eat you like sushi.”

That was probably just normal Georgio shittalk. Star shook himself into his other form, heading for the track, shouldering past several maintenance workers protesting that they’d just aerated and watered the track. It was fine; even if the condition wasn’t fast, it’d be wet fast, solid and well-maintained. He could tip the maintenance workers for the extra labour after. He had to go, had to move. Georgio followed him and when they reached the line, Star gasped out, “Three, two…”

“One,” Georgio said, and they were off.

Star was all lithe speed with his thoroughbred conformation and a nature meant to scare riders to death at top speed, and the water on the track splashing up his legs felt good. He was a brook horse through and through; mud splashing up his legs felt right, like he was finally home again. He tore around the track, head down, just looking at the lane in front of him, letting his thoughts and panic fall away as he poured all of himself back into motion.

Georgio wasn’t fast and slender like Star was, and a mortal bull wouldn’t have been able to keep up, but he was a monster like Star, and his muscle translated to his speed more effectively than it would otherwise. Where Star’s legs danced against the mud, Georgio slammed through like a freight train, a fearsome mass of muscle that would mash anyone into paste if they got in the way.

It wasn’t quite enough to keep up, though, not with Star using the speed to peel mania off his body like sweat, and Star crossed the lap line first at a full fae gallop, slowing to a trot, then a shaky walk. As he let the tension go, he felt weak, exhausted, his head dropping. A night’s sleep wasn’t a real rest when stress lay heavy on him.

Mud spattered his side as Georgio ran past him, slower to adjust his speed down than Star was; once he hit his top speed he stayed there for a while. By the time Georgio had jogged to a regular walk and circled the lap line a second time, Star had shifted back to his more human form, muddy and leaning his hands on his knees.

“Better, Son?”

Star slapped a hand against Georgio’s muddy side. “You’re not half bad,” he said, instead of answering. “Here, let’s get inside and get hosed off.”

They headed to the entrance to the paddocks to do that together rather than track mud through the clubhouse, and Star got the hose down, since Georgio couldn’t do it himself. “The truth is, some shit has been going on,” Star said, spraying Georgio’s side. “Yesterday, when you were out here, did you see anything unusual?”

“Unusual?” Georgio growled. He was keeping the volume of his rasp down, presumably still a bit alarmed by Star freaking out and kicking him. Or maybe Star had finally found the volume button when he kicked, that was also possible. “What do you mean? What you after, Son?”

It occurred to Star that it was actually very possible that Georgio was in on it somehow, or that, at least, Vayne was. Like, maybe he and Vayne were the ones in the double booking for a reason. Maybe they were the ones who brought the Two Creepers to the track yesterday, or were the ones who had led them to information about Star and Dom in the first place. 

On the other hand, worrying about that involved too much thinking when what he needed was info. What was the worst that would happen if he tipped his hand that he was trying to investigate what had happened?”

“Yesterday,” Star said, “there were two weirdos here who cornered Dom after you and he met to get the double booking fixed. They cast some weird-ass spells on him and I’m worried about what they want and what they’re gonna do about it. They might even be after my boss.”

“Your boss, huh? Like, the guy who sponsors you?”

Right. Most jockeys rode because they were employed to do so by the person who owned the mount. Vayne was the Manotaur’s rider, but not the person who… well, didn’t own him, most of the mounts in the magical leagues weren’t owned as many of them were sentient. But most of them were still sponsored by some rich fuck out in the middle of nowhere. Dom and he were a different case, but he didn’t know how many people knew about that and he wasn’t exactly willing to get into it if they didn’t. “Yeah, sort of,” Star said. “Did you see ’em?”

“Two weirdos, huuuuuuuuuh,” Georgio growled. “YEAH, I SAW ‘EM. But only in passing. There was a li’l nixie and I thought it was you for a second, but she had tits, sooo it ain’t you unless you got more going on than I knew.”

“No,” Star said. “You probably shouldn’t call ’em tits.”

“Whatever, dude, we’re both just man guys here,” Georgio said, nudging Star with his now-wet bulk. “Riiiiight soooooooooooo. The other guy, only saw ’em from behind. Super tall, yeahhh, like someone took this guy and stretched him right out.”

“It was a man?”

“Not sure. Guessing so from the height,” Georgio said.

Star sighed. So that wasn’t actually more info. “But taller than human?”

“Taller’n normal for human but not like… impossible,” Georgio offered. “Just a guy who ate his wheaties and eggs every fuckin’ day and got real lucky in his parents, sort of height. Basketballer, you know, not like you’d usually see on the track. Weird, that, I assumed they were here to race, or at least ride, but you can’t get a jockey that tall easy.”

In the magical leagues, it was a little more doable since most of the mounts didn’t have quite the same limitations as mortal horses, but the heavier someone was, the slower a mount would go regardless. Height meant weight, generally. Most jockeys were pretty small. 

“Any other description, even if you just saw that one from behind?” Star asked.

“Looong black hair. Wearin’ a dress. Also all black. Goth, I guess.”

Star was starting to get a headache even at this new, improved volume. “Are you sure it was a dress and not robes?”

“No difference. Robe. Dress. Gown. All the same thing,” Georgio said. “Clothes that ain’t macho. I don’t know nothin’ bout fashion and cuts. Floor-length, though, yeahhhh.”

So maybe robes. The kind of person who wore robes. “You didn’t talk to them?”

“Naw. Vayne did, though, but I was in the paddocks at the time, getting me a niiiice snack, good fuckin’ hay here. The quality roughage, yeahhhhh.”

Interesting. Dom hadn’t known that Vayne had talked to them. Star wondered what it could be about. “What about the double booking?” Star asked. “Do you know who originally booked that lane?” 

“Well, it weren’t Heronika, she was pissed,” Georgio said. “She’d know who did it, thoughhhh, yeeaaaah. That lady got control of everything.”

That was a promising lead. Star nodded, bending to turn the hose off. As he faced up the paddocks toward the clubhouse, he abruptly saw a flash of movement—someone in all black, walking past the door between the clubhouse and the paddock.

Shit. Was that—

And then behind him, from the direction of the track, there was a sudden scream and the sound of rushing water.

Star stood bolt upright, trying to decide which way to run.

[Leave a suggestion in the comments!
You may want to decide if you go to the clubhouse after the figure,
or to the track to deal with the screaming, but if you have other ideas,
feel free to include those too natch!]

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