Page 83 of Dragon Her Heels

“Should we beat you, you will teach Yuless how to make one decent pie, even if it takes a hundred years. I’ll even lower my standards for the pie to be decent at this stage. Also, I get to go with Aramathea on her trip and get equal treatment.”

The incubus snickered. “Should we beat you, you will eat two slices of his pie every night until he makes one actually worth writing home about in a positive fashion. And yes, that’s fine. Lucifer won’t have any issues with adding you to Aramathea’s wager.”

How utterly evil. The last time I’d tried one of Yuless’s pies, I had gone into a state of shock over how bad something that had been fashioned from a premade crust and a can could be. In retrospect, such horrors had become a part of my daily life. “Give me a nice funeral should I die, but you’re on.”

Isaac reached over and patted my mare’s neck. “Go ahead and put us all to shame, big girl. Show them you can be beautiful and run faster than all these spoiled hellish horses. Also, remember, you can beat the shit out of anyone here except Ashley. Try to be a little gentle with her. Everyone else can take a fall. At most, there will be some whining.”

Aramathea whinnied and bobbed her head.

As part of the theatrics, the race starter pointed a flare at the sky, ordered us to get on our marks, and to get set. I prepared, wondering how insane the race would be, which had no real rules, not like the Iroquois states. A moment later, the starter squeezed the trigger, resulting in a bang and a shower of fireworks overhead.

Aramathea surged forward, and the instant she established her stride, she tensed beneath me. While I had no idea what she meant to do, I snatched her mane and held on tight.

The mare slammed her shoulder into Pestilence and shunted him into War, who squealed and snapped his teeth. Much like a set of dominos, the Four Horses stumbled, lost focus, and bickered among each other. The heavenly mare tossed her head, gathered herself, and charged forward. Rather than angle for the path of least work and resistance, she targeted her next victim, which proved to be Kanika and Malcolm. Gaining on them with alarming velocity, the mare took a position behind and to their right, opting to chomp Malcolm on the rump.

He squealed and shied to the side. Two strides later, Aramathea knocked the pair over, bringing her shoulder into play again. Kanika shrieked curses my way, and with a laugh, I unraveled the potent magic before she could sour my day and knock me out of the race in retaliation.

“You’re lucky I like you, bitch!” the Heir of Hell called out after me. I glanced back to spot the woman picking herself up and waving her fist at me.

I patted my mare’s neck, praised her, and kept my hands low, making sure she had all the rein she wanted to play with her hellish friends.

With the number of angels, archangels, and divines loitering around Churchill Downs, it would take a great deal more than rough and dirty play to do lasting injury to anybody.

Well, as long as nobody faced instant death from a fall. But, with Hugh somewhere nearby, I expected there’d be a case of divine intervention should something of the sort happen.

Making use of the dirty tricks the jockeys and trainers from hell had taught me, I considered the horses and unicorns ahead of us. Lucifer, riding his cindercorn nephew, held the clear lead, zipping along at least twice the speed of a standard horse, perhaps faster.

It was then I understood why we’d be battling for ten circuits of the track; the cindercorn alone could blow around the first mile in half a minute or less.

Undeterred by her greater bulk, Aramathea chased after the remaining racers, gaining ground despite having slowed to knock out a few competitors. As eliminating equines through violence was allowed and encourage, I decided to be an active participant.

As part of my training, I’d learned how to balance on a single stirrup, bracing my weight on a singular foot. With Aramathea’s superior height and the Devil’s severe case of immortality, I stood a good chance of being able to kick him right off his nephew’s back.

That left me with Belial, and I would cheat with the best of them.

Zenzi loved me.

She tolerated him.

“Pin Lucifer to the wall,” I shouted to the heavenly mare.

She snorted, picked up the pace, and showed me what she had. Zenzi, who nipped at the cindercorn’s heels, redoubled her efforts, blowing flame from her nostrils. As we came up along Belial on the outside, I blew the pair a kiss before ordering, “Buck that bastard to the sun, sweetheart.”

The hellish horse squealed, skidded to a halt, and launched into a series of jumps and twists. The devilish general spat curses, and rather than face being dismantled by my horse, he opted to hit the dirt. Like Kanika, he waved his fist at me.

That left me with Lucifer and the cindercorn, who barreled forward with zero care of the carnage we’d left in our wake.

On second consideration, I wouldn’t kick the Devil off his mount. Instead, I’d appeal to the cindercorn’s angelic side. Unlike in real races, a horse and rider weren’t eliminated for losing a piece of tack, and I reached forward, located the buckle to the bridle cursed with an unfortunate number of gemstones, and pulled it loose. Upon realizing what I did, Aramathea assisted, tossing her head and spitting the soft bit out. I gathered it, rode solely with my legs, and gathered up my tools of chaos. “Come alongside them,” I requested.

The mare did as told, proving large and bulky had nothing to do with speed.

Perhaps there was only one equine representing the heavenly host, but she meant business. Much like I did with my mundane horses, I would do my best to give her what she wanted.

Once settled into the mare’s stride, I flung the bridle and reins into Lucifer’s face. He spat curses, and the cindercorn squealed, swerved, and smacked into the railing.

Without bothering to look back, I clucked my tongue to urge Aramathea on and held on tight, laughing at the mayhem we left in our wake.

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