Out of the Dark (The Brethren Series) by Reinke Sara

Author:Reinke, Sara [Reinke, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-02-13T23:00:00+00:00

When at last it was over, Aaron looked out over the tops of the windswept grass and watched as Lamar staggered to his feet. His shirt tails had pulled loose of his breeches, and he shoved them back into place. His wig had fallen askew, and he straightened this as well before refastening his fly.

“Get your ass back home,” he growled at his daughter, striding over to where his gelding had wandered off to graze closer to the steep embankment leading down to the spring house—and less than five feet away from Aaron’s hiding place in the grass. “I want to know where to find it lest I have want or need of it again.”

Hooking his foot in the stirrup, and seizing hold of the reins at the horse’s withers, Lamar swung himself back into the saddle. It was at about this time that the gelding lifted its head, perhaps annoyed that it had been disturbed, especially since it had just discovered a thick growth of sweet clover hidden among the tall grass. As it looked up, the horse caught sight of Aaron and frighted. Its nostrils flared; its lips drew back as it bared its teeth against the restraint of the bit, and with a sharp whinny, it began to stomp its hooves, dancing anxiously backward.

“Whoa!” Lamar didn’t Aaron among the weeds. He said it again, jerking the reins hard and forcing the horse’s chin toward its shoulder—“Whoa, I say!”—and then the gelding reared, its front hooves flailing in the air.

Lamar uttered a startled yelp as he fell from his saddle. He landed on his back, hitting the ground hard, and then pitched, ass over elbows, down the embankment. In its backpedaling, the gelding had drawn too close to the drop-off’s edge, and its back hooves slid in the loose soil and pebbles. With a screech, it, too, toppled off the hill. Aaron heard the sickening, moist crunch of bones breaking—first its legs and then its neck—and his father’s shriek as the heavy beast plowed over him.

Aaron scrambled to his feet and watched their tumbling ascent. Lamar landed face-up in the creek, sprawled across the rocks, with water swirling and bubbling around his outstretched limbs. The horse crashed atop him, and he appeared grotesquely bisected beneath; as if his hips and legs had decided to go in one direction, while his shoulders and arms had pursued another. His face was bloodied, battered, but he was conscious, at least somewhat so, at least for a moment. His eyes were open, and he stared up the embankment at Aaron. He lifted his hand feebly, trembling, at his son, then opened his mouth; blood spewed out in a heavy flood, streaming down the contours of his cheek and chin.

Aaron shrank back, terrified, and Lisette grabbed him by the arm.

“Is he dead?” she whispered. Her hair was a mess, framing her face in a tangled halo strewn with broken bits of grass and twigs. Her nose was swollen, her lips puffed up, her eye turning purple.

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