of her. Like an analog TV losing signal, her skin—along with all her other parts, accessories, and even the formidable stallion beneath her—turned to static then faded before her wide, unblinking eyes. Flipping her wrist, she wriggled her fingers. They were there, she could feel them. Be that as it may, not a flutter of motion could be detected.
“ Are you doing this, or am I?” Ireland muttered, her head shaking in disbelief. “You know what, Reg? It doesn’t matter. Just when I think things can’t get any creepier …”
The ebony stallion’s sides quaked with a whiny; his not so subtle cue that he was still seeking a little direction.
“ Sorry, bud,” Ireland said, the leather saddle creaking as she adjusted her position. “Back on track. Let’s go flat-line Gozer The Destructor so I can return to my joyously corporeal state. Turns out invisibility makes me queasy.”
Cueing him on, she experienced the familiar, but always exhilarating, rush of his muscles contracting beneath her. The pull-back right before the jarring launch, that whisked them head long into adventure, stole the very breath from her lungs.
Ireland leaned into his strides, his hooves cracking a sharp chorus against the pavement. Turning the corner, they found the street bustling with activity. A fact that made that particular ride even more invigorating. The thrill of the forbidden . Ireland’s head spun, a smile teasing across her sapphire lips, as she watched a man chase his newspaper that the forceful gust of their passing ripped from his grasp. With expert precision Regen dodged and weaved, winding himself between bewildered pedestrians that were bumped and jostled without a clue of what caused it. When the congestion of milling bodies on the sidewalk became too constricting, Regen veered into the street. His gait opened up, full gallop toward a taxi stopped for a red light. Ireland’s breath caught as they went airborne. Metal creaked, buckling the hood in a perfect horseshoe formation. A split second before they slammed into the windshield Regen tucked his front legs, catapulting them in high arc over the cab and its bewildered driver. Ireland couldn’t have stifled her giddy peel of laughter if she wanted to—and she had no desire to do anything of the sort.
Her momentary elation was squashed by a chorus of screams and gasps up ahead. Standing up in her stirrups, Ireland craned her neck to see over the gathered crowd. A flash of dandelion yellow set her jaw firm, her palms itching for her weapons. Distance being the cruel bitch it was, Ireland could do nothing but watch a well-meaning man approach the ghoul with his hands raised to steady her.
“Now if not sooner, Reg,” Ireland urgently clucked just as the nightgown clad undead grabbed the man by both shoulders and frisbeed him onto the hood of a passing car.
Cowering at the screeching brakes and panicked screams that followed, the violet -eyed ghoul disappeared down the alleyway behind her. A spray of loose gravel kicked up under Regen’s hooves as he skidded to a stop at that same alley entrance, his unseen form blocking anyone else from entering. Kicking her leg over his head, Ireland dismounted. Her knees bent to absorb the impact. The second the soles of her boots hit the cement, her corporeal form rushed back. Toes to head in one broad sweep.
“Huh ? Guess it was you.” Ireland gave credit where it was due, in this case to her still invisible horse.
A ny frightened animal, with their hackles raised and lip curled in a menacing snarl, still couldn’t hide the fear boiling deep in the reflective pools of their gaze. The same could be said for the creature pacing before her. In life the girl must have been quite the hottie; with her delicate features, supple shape, and ethereal violet eyes. Unfortunately, no amount of skin cream or Botox could wipe away the tread marks where merciless time had stomped across her face in iron-spiked boots.
We could take
“ Are you doing this, or am I?” Ireland muttered, her head shaking in disbelief. “You know what, Reg? It doesn’t matter. Just when I think things can’t get any creepier …”
The ebony stallion’s sides quaked with a whiny; his not so subtle cue that he was still seeking a little direction.
“ Sorry, bud,” Ireland said, the leather saddle creaking as she adjusted her position. “Back on track. Let’s go flat-line Gozer The Destructor so I can return to my joyously corporeal state. Turns out invisibility makes me queasy.”
Cueing him on, she experienced the familiar, but always exhilarating, rush of his muscles contracting beneath her. The pull-back right before the jarring launch, that whisked them head long into adventure, stole the very breath from her lungs.
Ireland leaned into his strides, his hooves cracking a sharp chorus against the pavement. Turning the corner, they found the street bustling with activity. A fact that made that particular ride even more invigorating. The thrill of the forbidden . Ireland’s head spun, a smile teasing across her sapphire lips, as she watched a man chase his newspaper that the forceful gust of their passing ripped from his grasp. With expert precision Regen dodged and weaved, winding himself between bewildered pedestrians that were bumped and jostled without a clue of what caused it. When the congestion of milling bodies on the sidewalk became too constricting, Regen veered into the street. His gait opened up, full gallop toward a taxi stopped for a red light. Ireland’s breath caught as they went airborne. Metal creaked, buckling the hood in a perfect horseshoe formation. A split second before they slammed into the windshield Regen tucked his front legs, catapulting them in high arc over the cab and its bewildered driver. Ireland couldn’t have stifled her giddy peel of laughter if she wanted to—and she had no desire to do anything of the sort.
Her momentary elation was squashed by a chorus of screams and gasps up ahead. Standing up in her stirrups, Ireland craned her neck to see over the gathered crowd. A flash of dandelion yellow set her jaw firm, her palms itching for her weapons. Distance being the cruel bitch it was, Ireland could do nothing but watch a well-meaning man approach the ghoul with his hands raised to steady her.
“Now if not sooner, Reg,” Ireland urgently clucked just as the nightgown clad undead grabbed the man by both shoulders and frisbeed him onto the hood of a passing car.
Cowering at the screeching brakes and panicked screams that followed, the violet -eyed ghoul disappeared down the alleyway behind her. A spray of loose gravel kicked up under Regen’s hooves as he skidded to a stop at that same alley entrance, his unseen form blocking anyone else from entering. Kicking her leg over his head, Ireland dismounted. Her knees bent to absorb the impact. The second the soles of her boots hit the cement, her corporeal form rushed back. Toes to head in one broad sweep.
“Huh ? Guess it was you.” Ireland gave credit where it was due, in this case to her still invisible horse.
A ny frightened animal, with their hackles raised and lip curled in a menacing snarl, still couldn’t hide the fear boiling deep in the reflective pools of their gaze. The same could be said for the creature pacing before her. In life the girl must have been quite the hottie; with her delicate features, supple shape, and ethereal violet eyes. Unfortunately, no amount of skin cream or Botox could wipe away the tread marks where merciless time had stomped across her face in iron-spiked boots.
We could take
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