A set of double doors on the side of the building opened into what appeared to be a storage barn. I imagined trucks with bales of hay or pallets of shavings backing up there to drop their loads. I steered Kel toward it. The single door with the sign reading “office” probably had employees at this time of the night, and the larger, but not double doors, admitted horses for whatever purpose. Either of those probably had heavy guards.
A quick magic check showed no one in the storage barn. “Let’s go,” I whispered, checking to be sure our glamours were in place. We crossed the manicured lawn and moved into the shadow of the building, invisible to all technology. I admired how quietly Kel moved, her foot falls not making a sound in the grass, a trait of her fae half. Another magic check affirmed the storage area was empty. I held my hand over the lock and a moment later the latch clicked open. “Now.” I opened the door a crack and slipped inside, unconcerned about what would happen if someone locked the door, though I threw a glamour on it to make it appear locked. Hopefully the level of magic faded into the background and no one noticed it.
The smell of hay and shavings hit my nose and confirmed my guess about this place. I flipped on the flashlight, nodding at the piles of fresh green hay and the neatly wrapped bales of shavings. A door led into the main part of the barn. Bright lights blazed around it.
“I don’t want to split up, but I think we really need to see what’s happening and I wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t important records in that office.” I frowned, only now realizing the wall leading to the barn had some heavy magic shielding on it, one that blocked something. Over the shield, the distant whinny of equine fear, a shriek of pain, hit me. I fought not to double over.
“What’s happening?” Kel asked.
“I don’t think it’s pretty on the other side. Like it’s not any barn we’ve been in or worked in.” Now that I focused on it, the warding seemed to waver, as if it were designed to turn heads rather than keep anything out. Focusing on it weakened it. And yet, from the strength of the negative emotions, when it fell, it’d take out a lot of people unable to cope with it. Horses too, because for some inescapable reason, on the other side of this were more horses, all of whom happy and dozing in their stall as if things were very ordinary.
“Do you think this is part of their research?”
“Yeah.” Pieces fell into place. “Cameron told me they work with equine growth hormone, namely G1, and its precursor. And oh damn, we don’t have time for a lecture on the equine endocrine system. But my thought is they’re working on other hormones. Like if they can activate the fight or flight response more fully, a horse may have a quicker, shorter burst of speed. And since it’s the horse’s own hormones, there wouldn’t be a test for it. We both know racehorses get really worked up before a race sometimes. So if they detected say more cortisol or something, then it’s just a normal, lathered horse.”
Kel’s eyes grew wide. “Dean’s known for having spooky horses.”
“Yeah,” I confirmed, not liking what I slowly had begun to realize I sensed on the other side of the wall. The Unseelie were making horses afraid to harvest their hormones. It didn’t even have to be racehorses. Buy horses from the kill lot, the unwanted, the dumped, scare them to death. Buy more. The cycle of unwanted horses had only grown in recent years and I easily saw the Unseelie capitalizing on that. “It’s going to be rough here in a moment. Brace yourself.”
I placed my hand on the door and focused my energy on dissipating the wards. Let the world feel what was happening beyond closed doors. I had no way to warn the staff, those who perhaps worked here because of having no other choice. I pushed, just enough, to shatter the protections.
“ARGH!” Kel doubled over as the wall of rage and fear pent up for so long and layered on top of generations washed outward from the building. Outside the door, a man screamed, perhaps the guard getting the first taste of his employer’s work.
“I’m sorry.” I grabbed the door knob and pulled. The door refused to budge. Of course, they locked it from the other side, because theoretically no one would be entering the barn from this direction. Focusing my energy, I hit the lock. Bits of metal bounced off the door and it swung towards me.
The reality became a thousand times worse as the door opened. Workers, mere automons really, walked up and down the aisles, checking water and hay levels. The bright lights rendered sleeping impossible, and eight horses, a mix of breeds and colors, stood in stalls, eyes so wide their whites showed. They stomped and pawed, pulling against the halters and restraints holding them upright. Hobbles wrapped around their legs and chained to the wall, so even if they wanted to lay down they couldn’t. The stalls were maybe eight feet wide, too small for horses to lay in comfortably or safely.
I pressed my first to my lips to keep from crying out.
A worker stopped in front of me. I touched his shoulder. No spark, nothing, not even a soul, as if some kind of twisted magic propped them up or—I recognized one of them, an exercise rider who had gone missing. Most assumed she’d packed up and left without a word, as some often did from this harsh industry.
