Bay

It's nearly four am by the time we get Edana back to the sea. Sean and I sit on the cliff, the wagon we hauled Edana in looming behind us like some grim shadow. The two Malvern horses hitched to the wagon are restless in the early morning, heads up, ears turning, eyes rolling, but Sean doesn't make a move to calm them.

Instead, we watch the waves where only minutes before, we let the lifeless body of Edana slide off the wagon to her watery grave. It's too dark to see Edana's body, but I imagine that the waves are made of blood as they froth below us, carrying Edana out to sea. Back to where she belongs.

We stay on the cliffs like mourners at a vigil until the first grey fingers of dawn touch the horizon. The grass slowly fades from black to grey under my hands and mica glints in the rocks on the cliff. The night is over. The time to mourn is gone. Now is the time for action. I stand up. Despite a sleepless night, I don't feel tired. I hold out a hand for Sean. He takes it wordlessly and stands up, brushing grass off his jeans. We ride back to the Yard in silence, the only sound the creak of the wagon on the rutted roads and the whinny and snort of the horses pulling us. Even though the wagon is empty, they seem to trudge under a heavy weight.

We all feel it.

Thisby is heavy, tamped down, waiting.

Waiting for November.

For the races.

For death.

We get back just as dawn fully breaks over Thisby, thin light filtering through a heavy layer of gray clouds. The wind whips up, chilly and biting. I tell Sean I'm heading home. There are only two days until the Scorpio Races. Only one more day to ride on the beach. Tomorrow the race officials will close the beach to prepare the race course. I want to take Tempest out one last time.

"Bay…" Sean stops me with a hand on my arm before I hop off the wagon seat.

"Yes?"

"Don't take Tempest to the beach today."

I tilt my head. "It's the last day to practice. Aren't you going to be down there?"

Sean looks out at the horizon, eyes narrowed against the wind, though he keeps his hand on my arm. "Not today. Today the beach will be a massacre."

I look up at the sky. It looks like rain, but that's not unusual on Thisby. The wind's no different than she was yesterday.

"You ok?" I ask Sean.

He stares at the horizon for a few more moments before answering. "Fine."

I don't push him. Because I know how much Sean Kendrick hates to be pushed. I also know he's not ok. There's something different about him. A hard, cold light in his eyes that wasn't there before. Mutt Malvern won last night and Sean hates him for it. Sean hates himself for it.

"I, uh, I'll keep that in mind."

He looks back at me then, eyes flashing like lightning. "I'm serious."

I swallow. "I know."

He holds me a moment longer, then he lets me go.

I quickly slide off the seat, boots splashing in the mud of the Yard. When I glance back up, Sean looks tired.

"See you later, Sean." My voice is quiet. I feel small and not just because Sean sits so high above me.

He nods. "See you later, Bay."

Then he snaps the reins and turns the wagon into the cavernous dark of the stables, shoulders hunched against the wind. He looks for all the world like a man resigned to the gallows.

I think I know what Sean needs right now. And it's not Bay Fisher. I retrieve Tempest and ride home.

In the end, I don't listen. I take Tempest down to the beach despite Sean's warning. If I'm honest, it's partly to prove to myself that I'm not afraid. And partly to spite Sean, though he'll never hear me admit it.

He'll also never hear me admit he was right.

There's something wrong about the beach this morning. Gray skies pile heavy overhead and rain spatters the sand in fitful drops. The kind that are worse than a downpour. At least a downpour is honest about getting you wet. This rain is small, sideways and stinging. Slender silver stripes that streak across the sky, lingering in the air longer than they have a right to.

It doesn't take long before we're all miserable and soaking.

Not long after that, a fight breaks out.

The capaill are unusually riled. The sea is wild and so are they. Even Tempest tried to bite Penda when I first got on the beach and Ian and I had to wrestle our mounts apart. I got Tempest back under control with a pounding heart, Sean's warning echoing in my head. I manage to get Tempest into a sheltered cove out of the main crush of riders, where I sit now and watch the rest fight for dominance in the rain.

Sean was right.

I shouldn't have come down here today.

Not least of all because l'm thoroughly miserable. I didn't bring Dad's oilcoat with me and I regret it. Mom's leather jacket isn't quite enough to keep the rainwater from sneaking down my collar and slipping down my spine.

Everyone is restless. Capaill uisce and riders alike bleed, staining the surf with rust. But no one's quit yet. I see Tommy Falk riding in the surf, tempting fate with Blackwell close on his heels. There are water horses of every color, eyes and teeth flashing, hooves beating sand. There are screams and shouts and somebody somewhere is crying.

The one thing I don't see is Mutt Malvern and his piebald mare. Probably for the best. I remember the night I pulled him out of the sea before the storm. He can't handle the piebald. If he were on the beach, there would be death.

"What do you think, boy?" I ask Tempest. "Is it worth it?"

Tempest stamps his feet and chews his bit, throwing his head into the wind.

I check him and rub circles over his back with my iron bar to remind him I'm here.

Sean was right.

Nothing is worth riding today. Not even the last bit of practice before the races.

"Let's go home," l whisper.

I turn Tempest to ride off the beach when I hear the screams. The shouts follow a second later.

"Kendrick! Where's Sean Kendrick?"

The shout is just loud enough to carry over the rain and the wind and the screaming. It's panicked and desperate.

"Someone get Sean Kendrick!"

I whip Tempest's head toward the sound. A race official shouts at the top of his voice, desperately clutching his black bowler hat to his head as he sprints down the beach. He points at a mass of capaill uisce. "Fight! Fight!"

I don't know if his scream is supposed to warn people to get away, or tell people to watch. The tourists appear to be doing both in equal measures. The beach is a seething mass of people running with nowhere to go. I watch for a moment, but I don't want to get involved.

I can't tell what started the fight, but there are riders and wild capaill uisce in a tangle on the sand. There's screaming and shouting and blood flying. Someone's going to die. I feel it in the way my stomach plummets to my boots.

Sean was right.

I shouldn't be here.

But I can't stop watching.

I can't stop hearing the official, calling for Sean like if he says his name enough, he might magically appear. Sean's not here. I know he's not. He's not coming. Not this time. There's no savior here.

No one but me.

Before I can make a move in either direction, someone makes it for me. "Hey! Up there! Bay Fisher! She's with Kendrick. Get her to stop them!"

I start in the saddle.

The race official turns around and makes a beeline for me.

"Fisher?" he calls, uncertain, blinking in the rain at me.

"Y-yes." I hope the wind hides the tremor in my voice.

"Fisher, you know the water horses?"

"I...uh, I do." I sit up a little straighter.

"You gotta do something! There are riders down there!"

I look again and see at least two men in the tangle. One of them is Tommy Falk on his black mare. The other, oh God, the other is already missing an arm.

"Fisher — "

I don't wait to hear what he says.

"Holly!" I shout. "I need holly!"

The race official looks confused.

"Holly berries! Now!" I know the officials all carry them.

"Oh, right!" He jumps about a foot in the air and fumbles at his pockets, pulling a handkerchief full of the deadly berries out of his coat. Tempest shies as he hands them up to me and he almost drops them, but I snatch the handkerchief and then I'm off down the beach without a second glance at the official.

I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, but I know I've got to try.

There are four riders in the fight, but the only one I know by name is Tommy Falk, and three wild capaill uisce have climbed from the sea. Someone is going to die.

I desperately hope it's not me.