Border Rose

Available October 2009

Chapter One

"Rosie!" Grandpa's bellow shook the foundation of the house.

"Why me?" Rose wiped the dish soap suds from her hands with a kitchen towel, swiped the crossbow from the hook, and stomped onto the porch.

"Roooosie!"

She kicked the screen door open. He towered in the yard, a huge shaggy bear of a man, deranged eyes opened wide, tangled beard caked with blood and quivering greyish shreds. She leveled the crossbow at him. Drunk as hell again.

"What is it?"

"I want to go to the pub. I want a pint." His voice slipped into a whine. "Gimme some money!"

"No."

He hissed at her, swaying unsteadily on his feet. "Rosie! This is your last chance to give me a dollar!"

She sighed and shot him. The bolt bit between the eyes and Grandpa toppled onto his back like a log. His legs drummed the ground.

Rosie rested the butt of her crossbow on her hip. "All right, come out."

The two boys slipped from behind the huge oak spreading its branches over the yard. Both were filthy with reddish mud, and sap, and some other unidentifiable substances a six and an eight year old could find in the Wood. A jagged scratch decorated Georgie's neck and brown pine straw stuck out of his blond hair. Red welts marked the skin between Jack's knuckles. He saw her looking at his hands. His eyes got big, amber irises flashing yellow, and he hid his fists behind his back.

"How many times do I have to say it: don't touch the ward stones. Look at Grandpa! He's been eating dog brains again, and now he's drunk. It will take me half an hour to hose him off."

"We miss him," Georgie said.

She sighed. "I miss him too. But he's no good to anybody drunk. Come on, you two, let's take him back to his shed. Help me get the legs."

Together they dragged his inert form back to the shed at the edge of the clearing and dumped him on his sawdust. Rose uncoiled the metal chain from the corner, pulled it across the shed, locked the collar on Grandpa's neck, and peeled back his left eyelid to check the pupil. No red yet. Good shot - he would be out for hours.

She still remembered him as he was, a tall, dapper man, uncanny with his rapier, his voice flavored with light Scottish brogue. Even as old as he was, he would still win against Dad one out of three times in a swordfight. Now he was this… this thing. She sighed. It hurt to look at him, but there was nothing to be done about it. As long as Georgie lived, so did Grandpa.

The boys brought the hose. She turned it on, set the sprayer on jet, and leveled the stream at Grandpa, until all the blood and dog meat was gone. That done, she stepped out of the shed, locked the door behind her, and dragged the hose back to the porch. Her skin prickled as she crossed the invisible boundary: the kids must've put the ward stones back. She squinted at the grass. There they were, a line of small, seemingly ordinary rocks, spaced three, four feet from each other. Each rock held a small magic charge. Together they created an invisible boundary, strong enough to keep Grandpa in the shed if he broke the chain again.

Rose waved the boys to the side and raised the hose. "Your turn."

They flinched at the cold water. She washed them off methodically, from top to bottom. As the mud melted from Jack's feet, she saw a two inch rip in his Sketchers. She dropped the hose.

"Jack!"

He cringed.

"Those are forty five dollar shoes!"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Tomorrow is the first school day! What were you doing?"

"He was climbing up the pines to get at the leech-birds," Georgie said.

She glared. "Georgie! Ten minute timeout tonight for snitching."

Georgie bit his lip.

Rose stared at Jack. "Is that true? You were chasing the leech-birds?"

"I can't help it. Their tails are so flittery…"

She wanted to smack him. It was true, he couldn't help it - it wasn't his fault he was born as a cat, but those were brand-new shoes she bought for his school. Shoes for which she had painstakingly tweaked their budget to pennies, so he wouldn't have to wear Georgie's old beat-up sneakers, so he could look just as nice as all the other first graders. It just hurt.

Jack's face pinched into a rigid white mask – he was about to cry.

A small spark of power tugged on her. "Georgie, stop trying to resurrect the shoes. They were never alive in the first place."

The spark died.

An odd desperation claimed her, her pain shifting into a sort of numbness. Pressure built in her chest. She was so sick of it, sick of counting every dollar, sick of rationing everything, sick to death of it all. She had to go and get Jack a new pair of shoes. Not for Jack's sake, but for the sake of her own sanity. Rose had no clue how she would make it up, but she knew she had to buy him a new pair right now, or she would explode.

"Jack, do you remember what will happen if a leech bird bites you?"

"I'll turn into one?"

"Yes. You have to stop chasing the birds."

He hung his head. "Am I punished?"

"Yes. I'm too mad to punish you right now. We'll talk about it when we get home. Go brush your teeth, brush your hair, put on dry clothes, and get the guns. We're going to Wal-Mart."

Bibliography and Future Works

Bibliography

  • Magic Bites - Kate Daniels #1, March 27, 2007
  • Magic Burns - Kate Daniels #2, April 1, 2008, National bestseller, #32 on NYT Extended list

Future Works

Return to the top of the page