Free Elven Blood (Imp Book 3) by Debra Dunbar Page B

With all the joggers and cyclists, it took a placid horse to handle the chaos without bolting. My huge draft gelding, Piper, was such a horse, but he wasn’t the one I’d brought today. I had Diablo.
    Diablo was a thoroughbred cross, and I don’t just mean in equine breed terms. Some demon had gotten his freak on with a mare and sired this horse. Breeding is an intentional act for our kind, and we can exercise great creativity in the traits we endow our offspring. I was surprised to find Diablo in the hands of humans because his breeding had clearly been given some thought. I could only assume his sire meant to return to collect him and sell him at a later date but had either been killed or was unable to successfully cross the gates again. I’d bought the horse for practically nothing from humans who found him so dangerous and unpredictable that he was seconds away from finding himself in a dog food can.
    I didn’t find him much easier to handle than his human owners had. He was smart. He had skills. And he obeyed . . . sometimes. He was crazy and skittish, terrified of plastic grocery store bags, blowing leaves, even his own damned shadow. Which was really ridiculous since he had the ability to store enough raw energy to explode any killer plastic bag that threatened his being. Horses.
    He wasn’t any happier about the elf gate we stood in front of. Or the cyclists. Or the joggers. Or that insane guy kayaking the Potomac River in January. He danced around with his ears pinned flat, snorting at the elf trap and its bait; an illusion of a dirty, tear stained toddler sitting at the bottom of the ravine.
    “It’s an illusion, you worthless horse,” I told him. “It’s a gate. You just walk right on through the damned thing.”
    Piper would have plodded through without a second thought, but once I was on the other side, I needed a horse with a good bit of demon in him. We’d need to move fast though the elf kingdom, dash across a tiny swath of demon lands, then head deep into the Western Red Forest where I should be safe. I needed a fast horse, one that could defend himself and me, one that could teleport. Although there was no guarantee he’d be able, or willing, to teleport me along with him. Stupid, unreliable horses.
    Diablo pranced, and I was getting tired of kicking him in the sides and jolting him with energy. I needed to change tactics.
    “You’ll get to see the horses back home. Mmm–mmm. Other hybrids like you.” His ears twitched. “And the Elven mares. You have no idea, my friend. Elegant and leggy. They always think they are better than us, so you need to chase them down and pin them against the fence before you fuck them.”
    Not that I’d ever fucked a horse, Elven or otherwise. Clearly the idea of a challenge intrigued Diablo, because he cautiously made his way down the canal embankment and extended his nose toward the gate.
    “We need to go through fast, and then run like crazy. They always have a couple of scouts near the gates to scoop up the humans, so they’ll be on us quickly. They won’t have horses though, so we’ll get a good head start before they alert the cavalry. If we hustle, we’ll be out of their territory and safe before they even saddle up.”
    I hoped so anyway. Elves were a tricky bunch. This was trespass, and if they caught me, there would be repercussions. I’d done work with this elf lord before, so hopefully I could negotiate a service or some favor in exchange for passage. If not, I’d be spending some quality time in their dungeon.
    Then there was the narrow strip of demon land I needed to cross. For all I knew, Haagenti had his own people patrolling the area. And there was always the chance that this was a trap, that Taullian was luring me in to turn me over to Haagenti for a bounty. I hesitated, reconsidering, but then I remembered the demon in Wyatt’s house, and urged Diablo forward. I had to take the chance.
    Diablo tensed then leapt through the gate in a