{"id":3150,"date":"2018-01-23T11:59:11","date_gmt":"2018-01-23T16:59:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/?p=3150"},"modified":"2018-01-23T11:59:11","modified_gmt":"2018-01-23T16:59:11","slug":"capricious-epilogue","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/?p=3150","title":{"rendered":"Capricious: Epilogue"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Welcome to <em>Capricious<\/em> by Julie Cox, a Texan tale of love and magic. NSFW.<\/p>\n<p><b>A new chapter appears every Tuesday. This week is the Epilogue.<\/b><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"center\">Epilogue<\/h1>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>If it hadn&#8217;t been for the horns, she wouldn&#8217;t have recognized him as a satyr at all. The only thing Greek she could tell about the young man was his Roman nose. The rest of him was generic European&#8211;blond hair, gray eyes, and pale skin. His hooves were not visible, clad as he was in loose cargos and hiking boots. Her hair was dark; like his nose, it was the last vestige of her myth&#8217;s native people, the dying notes of the Navajo in her blood. He sat a little ways apart from the other myth-folk, arms around his knees, practically screaming &#8220;introvert.&#8221; Trish stopped a few feet away from him, waiting to be noticed. Her bare toes dug into the sand, and she kicked a little at him.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Hey,&#8221; she said.<!--more--><\/p>\n<p>He looked down at the sand, then up at her. A little wrinkle appeared between his eyes as he studied her, wary. &#8220;Yes? Can I help you?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a satyr.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Well spotted.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;I knew a satyr in a past life.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Lots of people knew a satyr in a past life.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>She made a face at him, waiting out his bullshit. Finally he huffed, &#8220;All right, how long ago was it, and what was your satyr like. I&#8217;ll tell you if it was me. To my knowledge there isn&#8217;t a warrant out for any of my past lives&#8217; deeds.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>She plopped down beside him in the sand. Here, near the bonfire, it was still warm. Farther down the beach, the sun-drenched sand was cooling rapidly. Her hands were chilled, and she dug them into the warm grit.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;His name was Luke Shepherdson. He lived in the early twenty-first century, married to a thunderbird named Sally.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"noindent\">&#8220;Sounds familiar,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Had five kids, lived in Texas? Carved pan pipes and other flutes, and his wife sold them online?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>She grinned. &#8220;Yes, that&#8217;s him!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>He smiled back at last and offered her his hand. &#8220;That was me. My name&#8217;s Elliot. You, ah&#8230; you look a little avian.&#8221; He squinted at her.<\/p>\n<p>She gripped his hand. He had nice hands. &#8220;Trish. And yeah&#8211;I&#8217;m a thunderbird, I was Sally. Man, I&#8217;ve been hoping to run into you since that life! I&#8217;ve had four since then, on my fifth now.&#8221; She grinned, wide and goofy.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m on my fourth,&#8221; Elliot said. &#8220;Two of mine were really short, and the last I was up on Mars.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Well how awesome to finally find Luke&#8217;s reincarnated soul again! Not that we&#8217;re the same folk by any means,&#8221; she added.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;No, of course not, but that was a really nice life,&#8221; Elliot said. &#8220;I agree, it&#8217;s great to find someone who remembers that time.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>They eyed each other, their thoughts mirrored in the other&#8217;s eyes. But it was too early, their association too new. They spent the rest of the evening talking. The bonfire blazed into the night, and the other myth-folk all around them hardly seemed to even exist. Trish&#8217;s sisters tried to pull her away to join the dancing, but to no avail. The more they talked, the more they remembered&#8211;about the lives Luke and Sally had lived, about the myth-folk they had known, about their children and grandchildren, and the vast lineage that followed.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Shame Charlie died so young.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Fuck cancer,&#8221; Trish answered. &#8220;I ran into him last life.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;How was he?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;A she. And much better adjusted. Especially since she had the full benefit of myth-folk magic, unlike Charlie.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Shame what happened to August.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Trish shook her head, sobering. &#8220;The sucky part was that they never found the body.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;I guess he knew what kind of dangers he was getting into, being a field operative for the New York Council. I just wish Cormick hadn&#8217;t been with him at the time.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;True that. Allison wasn&#8217;t the same after, and since last life she was a confirmed bachelor, I&#8217;d say the shadows of the loss are still with her.&#8221; Trish raised the beer in her hand, which was beginning to turn warm. &#8220;To old friends, long recycled.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Elliot raised his plastic water bottle and tapped it against her beer bottle. &#8220;To old friends.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;So,&#8221; Trish said, &#8220;whatcha got going this time around?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m moving to Australia in a few months. I have an opportunity to work in a research lab, where I won&#8217;t have to deal with people much. It will be better for me than dealing with the general public.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Get out!&#8221; Trish said. &#8220;My mom lives in Australia!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Big country. Where at?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Victoria.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Now that <em>is<\/em> a coincidence. The research lab is in the Murray region. Your mom wouldn&#8217;t happen to raise sheep, does she?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Trish nodded vigorously. &#8220;One of the only big Merino flocks left, after synthetic protein fiber production displaced the wool industry. There&#8217;s still a niche market for people who want the real thing.&#8221; She narrowed her eyes. &#8220;What are you doing in that area? It&#8217;s almost all rural now. Not weapons testing, right? You don&#8217;t strike me as an animal person.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Oh ho,&#8221; Elliot said. &#8220;I&#8217;m not an animal person, she says. Birdie, you&#8217;re going to be hearing about that one for ages.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Trish couldn&#8217;t help but smile at the implied promise that they would know each other long enough to have history, and that this was the start of it. &#8220;Did I just step in it? What?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>He grinned wide. &#8220;I&#8217;m a veterinarian.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Well shit. But hey, I bet my mom will like you.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;As I recall, sheep were integral to your background in Luke and Sally&#8217;s life too.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Sheep is life. That&#8217;s a Navajo saying. They&#8217;re important.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;But the Merino flocks aren&#8217;t Churros,&#8221; Elliot pointed out.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Meh,&#8221; Trish said, &#8220;we&#8217;re all mutts now. It&#8217;s a fuzzy heritage.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Especially with sheep.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Trish snorted and elbowed him. &#8220;Go get me another beer, satyr-boy. Get yourself one too. You&#8217;re letting me talk too much.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Elliot fetched beers. As he handed her one, he said, &#8220;You&#8217;re really more like Allison, you know. Sally was never so forward. She was cautious, almost suspicious. Allison was the one to go after what she wanted.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Trish smirked. &#8220;And Luke would have made at least three passes already,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Maybe it&#8217;s because after Luke died, Allison moved in with Sally and they had a lovely eight years living as cranky widows, chasing chickens and grandchildren. She had a big influence, especially there at the end.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Is that what happened? Nice. Allison and Sally were hot together, once Sally loosened up some.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;See? The beer&#8217;s working already. So, Mr. Satyr Veterinarian. Luke had Sally, and a trio of other long-term lovers to feed off of. What do <em>you<\/em> do to keep charged up?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Elliot cleared his throat. &#8220;I don&#8217;t do a whole lot of magic.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Seriously?&#8221; She felt a little disappointed.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s complicated.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t have to tell me now,&#8221; she said. She slipped her hand into his. &#8220;We&#8217;re old souls. We can take our time.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Elliot and Trish were not Luke and Sally. But somewhere in their souls, a shadow of their former selves remained, with enough love between them to know that no matter what troubles arose, they would be on the same side, for each other&#8217;s sake, in this life and in many lives to come.<a id=\"_GoBack\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p>* * *<\/p>\n<p><i>Prefer reading on paper? You can mail order the paperback of Capricious, right now, and have it within days! Order from Amazon, or purchase straight from <a href=\"https:\/\/www.createspace.com\/5271186\">Createspace<\/a>!<\/i><\/p>\n<p><strong>About the author:<\/strong> Julie Cox is the author of <a href=\"https:\/\/circlet.com\/?page_id=350\">Chasing Tail<\/a> and numerous short stories in Circlet Press erotica anthologies. She lives in Texas with her husband, children, and ever-expanding menagerie of animals on their farm. She runs a small online yarn business and teaches yarn spinning. She has numerous stories published with <a href=\"https:\/\/circlet.com\/tag\/julie-cox\/\">Circlet Press<\/a> and elsewhere.<\/p>\n<p>[wp_eStore_fancy2 id=14]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Welcome to Capricious by Julie Cox, a Texan tale of love and magic. NSFW. A new chapter appears every Tuesday. This week is the Epilogue. Epilogue &nbsp; If it hadn&#8217;t been for the horns, she wouldn&#8217;t have recognized him as a satyr at all. The only thing Greek she could tell about the young man &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/circlet.com\/?p=3150\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Capricious: Epilogue<\/span> <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[103],"class_list":["post-3150","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-serial-fiction","tag-capricious-serial"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3150","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3150"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3150\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3150"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3150"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3150"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}