Taken By The Bull

“Ah, yeah…” Staci pulled her arms tight around herself, and looked for somewhere to rest her aching legs; there was only the edge of the bathtub, and the seat of the toilet. She opted for the bathtub. “Something about, ‘this isn’t personal’ and that I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in where it wasn’t wanted.”

“Unless you’re doing something shady, all you’ve really done here is spend time with me and mine. Makes it sound like it was all over a matter on my account, doesn’t it?” He tapped his fingers lightly against his leg thoughtfully. “But as far as I’m concerned, both your nose and the rest of you are perfectly wanted.”

Staci watched him carefully, her eyes moving from his face to his restless fingers. “What are you thinking, Steve?”

“Nothing of any importance.” Shaking his head, he stepped closer. “Give me your hands.”

“Okay…” Uncertainly, she let him take her small hands in his; she winced at the sensation of gentle pressure on her torn skin. “Ow.”

“It’ll feel better soon.” His eyes were steady on hers as his thumbs brushed lightly back and forth over her palms; it was impossible to look away from those eyes, the black and the blue, like deep ocean waters. Distantly, she felt a spreading warmth pulsing through her fingers; it was pleasant, soothing away the pain.

“Steve?” Her voice was little more than a murmur. “Do you think – those men? Were badly hurt?”

“I can’t rightly be sure.” There was no hint of remorse in his tone; the facts were stated plainly, without sugarcoating of any kind. “Though, I doubt it. Maybe a few broken bones, nothing worse. They certainly up and ran fast enough.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

“Now, how would I?” He smiled reassuringly. “All that happened was that they trespassed on to a rancher’s land in order to scare and hurt a lady. And they got run off by an escaped bull. There ain’t a single word of that they can tell anyone without lookin’ like thugs, and fools to boot. You won’t be getting me into any trouble.”

“But…” But, that’s what I’ve been trying to do all along. Digging into your secrets. Looking for evidence, and finding – finding something I never would have expected, in a hundred million years. “I guess so.”

“You’d be guessing right.” He stepped back, letting go of her hands. “There you are.” Looking down, she saw that the skin was unbroken, unsullied; as if she’d never been hurt at all. “Anywhere else that hurts?”

“How – how did you do that?” She stared up at him, eyes wide, and he grinned at her shock and surprise.

“It’s all a part of my natural gifts. Anything little, I can fix. Nothin’ life threatening though, and not my own wounds. I heal up fast anyway, so it’s no big deal.” He paused, watching her, the smile still on his lips. “Call it ‘sympathetic magic’ if you will. With an emphasis on the ‘sympathetic’.”

“It’s – it’s amazing. Really.” She looked down at her hands again, barely able to believe what she was seeing. “How do you manage to keep this from people?”

“By not telling them, mostly.” He stretched his arms up over his head, his shoulders creaking. “The majority of people aren’t as adept as you are at seeing past all my nonsense. I think, that’s why I like you so much.”

*****

For the second night running, Staci found herself beneath the fresh-scented plain white sheets of Steve’s bed, listening to the distant ticking of the hallway clock and the occasional lowing of the cattle.

The first time, she had been laid down by Steve’s arms; a warm blur of memories, of his mouth hard and yearning against hers, his hands on her body and her hands on his. This time though, it was different. They were tired, drained from the events of the evening; she was too exhausted to drive home. The idea of setting out on those dark roads once again seemed about as sensible as attempting to pet a large, angry spider lurking beneath a kitchen sink. And Staci didn’t like spiders.

As for Steve, a strange kind of calm had settled over him; and since he was already a bastion of unruffled calm – at least, when not attempting to gore a moving truck – this was quite an accomplishment.

They lay quite still, with her back against his chest and his arm resting over her, hand cupping her shoulder. The room was bathed in the soft bluish glow of moonlight, and it would have been the most peaceful and calming of atmospheres if it wasn’t for the way that Staci’s mind continued to race; feeling out the possibilities of what she had learned this evening, and wondering at the consequences of what she had gotten herself into.

I don’t know what to think, she pondered as her eyes stared out into the dim light. I came here to run a simple little story about a hometown hero, a bright hope in a sport I didn’t – that I still don’t – understand; and I knew he had a secret. I just knew it. And somehow I’ve ended up in the bed of a…. Shapeshifter? How – how did that happen? It sounds so dumb, but I saw it. I was there, so – I know it was true. Oh yes, don’t forget that someone is out for my blood. And I don’t really know what to do, to feel, to think, about any of this.

Then, she remembered the story she had been working on, everything she had planning – her ‘breakthrough story’. Her heart dropped as she realized, that story was gone now. There was no way she could run a story on how Steve was so successful because he’d been cheating the system – not now. What could she say? ‘He knows what the bull will do, because he is one, and can talk to them in his head’. It sounded simply insane to anyone who hadn’t seen him with ol’ Thunderbutt after the animal attacked her; to anyone who hadn’t seen what he could do, and hadn’t heard him explaining it. No one could possibly believe any of that, unless they saw it for themselves.

She wanted, quite desperately, to talk about everything that was bothering her with someone who would listen, someone who cared; no, not ‘someone’. With Steve. Who just, happened to be the one person in this entire world that she couldn’t share the whole story with. He mustn’t ever know that I only stuck around in order to find his secrets and… to ruin his life.

Or, at least. That had been the plan. It wasn’t, not anymore. Things had changed, hadn’t they?

Imagine though, being the reporter that breaks the story that supernatural entities are real; real, and walking among us…

“Staci?” His voice rumbled softly. “What’s bothering you?”

It was as if he knew somehow what she was thinking, despite how still she was. Perhaps, he could tell – perhaps, he had some kind of telepathy. She had no idea really, what he was capable of. Reading minds, or emotions? Quite possible… But she hoped not. “I’m just, I’m thinking, is all.”

“I do hope that you’re not thinking less of me, because I kept something from you.” She felt him sigh, felt his arm around her move until the backs of his fingers lightly brushed against the curve of her jaw. “That’s the only secret I had, I promise.”

“I…” A hot, dark flush of guilt clenched at her stomach and her brows knitted together. He’s a better person than me, she thought, sorrowfully. “I mean, it’s okay.