Page 52 of Riding A Cock-Horse
“We’re naming the griffin ‘griffin’? Seems unoriginal, lass.” Nestor comments.
“It’s brilliant! Besides, we can argue later. We need to get these women out of here.”
“Right—and get Theo, Jude, and Elise.”
“Jude and Elise?!” I screech.
“Ow, lass! Lower the volume of your voice. My ears are bleeding.”
I give him a sour look.
“Why are Jude and Elise here?!”
“Askthem, lass. In the meantime, I’ve got the women. You carryGryffon. Follow me.”
In a fantastical feat of strength that makes the wolverines look like whiny little bitches, Nestor somehow manages to carryallfive women in his arms. I can see his shoulders strain as he strives to make sure they’re all comfortable.
Between us, I fall in love a little with him.
Nestor dashes out of the room, and I sprint to keep up with the baby in my arms. He looks like a griffon, but I swear he’s a heifer. The Loch Ness Tersh leads me to another room that has cages.
Cages.
And inside are my friends.
Yep—I’m definitely becoming a murderer.
Sorry, mom.
Using my own strength, I rip off the lock holding the cage shut. Jude, Theo, and Elise stare at me in shock. I wink at them. If this doesn’t get their engines revving, I don’t know what will.
“This way!” Nestor shouts, and I remember he’s holding five women—one who’s bleeding profusely in his arms.
I chase after him with Gryffon in my arms and the others following me. We weave this way and that in what seems like an underground labyrinth before Nestor brings us to an elevator.
AN ELEVATOR!
Peeps are dying—slowly and excruciatingly.
The elevator takes us topside and opens in a fancy looking office that has me asking so many questions.
“Not now, love,” Jude whispers.
“Thanks for belting her up,” Nestor whispers back, and I glare at him.
We race out of the building and back toward the Irish Sea. It’s dark, but our senses guide us well enough. Eventually, the lapping of water on the shore greets our ears, and I know we’re close. Seconds later, the sea comes into view.
“Look—over there!” Elise exclaims. “A boat!”
We run down and all clamber on board after Nestor checks it first. I really hope somebody can drive this bitch. Of course, Jude knows exactly what he's doing—I’m going to bang him so good when we’re out of this mess. He turns the thing on, revs it up, and we get the hell out of there.
“Yeah!” I shout into the night. “Let's blow this popsicle stand—the Isle of Dicks sucks!”
We’re not very far into the Irish Sea when I see the all too familiar danger sign of afinpopping out of the water—and not just one.
Hundreds.
Holy shit, are they filming Shark Week?!
