The Cult of Unicorns (Penny White Book 2)

by Chrys Cymri

  Somehow I managed to suppress my groan. I was probably due some form of penance, after all. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I need to go. Pete Morton is being licensed this evening at Hardingstone. But first, let me pray for you, Penny.’

  I dutifully bowed my head. The Bishop prayed for my protection, and discernment, and laid his hands on my head to give me his blessing. I felt my earlier anger at God ease away in the presence of the man’s kindness. Once again I was reminded of something I had often preached to my congregation. No one is meant to take the Christian journey on their own, and at times we all need someone else to remind us of God’s love. It didn’t answer the thorny question about stillborn babies, but it did renew my determination to trust God despite my doubts.

  Bishop Aeron had finished whatever she wanted to say to Morey. I let both bishops out of the garage, and closed the door behind them. ‘Whisky, now,’ Morey snapped at me as he flew into the kitchen.

  I hurried to obey. Feather and fur were bristled, his ears erect and his claws extended. Yet more marks were scratched into the table as he strutted across the wood, swearing away in Welsh. I wondered whether my tutor would include curses as part of my language instruction.

  Morey sucked down the double measure of Talisker without pausing for breath. I moved the bottle away as he reached out to the cork. ‘Nope. Not until you tell me what happened with your bishop.’

  The gryphon sat down, his tail a purple-grey blur. ‘She told me off. She reminded me that I’m the senior partner in this relationship, and she expected better of me.’

  Senior partner? That was news to me. I somehow managed not to protest. ‘And then?’

  ‘And then she told me it was time I stopped being, as she put it, “a rebellious layperson”, and that I should renew my vows.’

  I felt my mouth dry. ‘You mean...?’

  ‘Yes.’ His ears were flat against his head. ‘She wants me to take up my orders again. To be a priest!’

  Slowly, carefully, I asked, ‘And you don’t want to be?’

  ‘I’d first have to repent about marrying Seren.’ He thrust his beak at the empty glass, and I only just managed to stop it from hurtling off the table. ‘That is not going to happen!’

  ‘Bishops have to work for the unity of the church.’ I poured a smaller measure of Talisker and offered him the glass. ‘She has to think of more than just one relationship. And now you have Taryn--’

  ‘Now I have Taryn,’ Morey said mockingly, ‘so everything’s okay. Now I’m normal. But I won’t deny Seren. What we had was also normal. There was nothing wrong or tainted or sinful about our marriage. We loved each other, Penny. How could that be wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said softly. ‘I just don’t know.’

  And I poured a double of whisky for myself. This was going to be a long afternoon.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Pterodactyls were wheeling in the hot desert skies above us, their green and purple feathers bright against the blue. One was on the sand dune a hundred feet away, tearing savagely into a furry creature nearly twice the dinosaur’s size.

  The flock had left us well alone, no doubt due to the fact that Raven was several times their size. But, despite the heat, I still kept my fleece zipped up. The less flesh I exposed, the better.

  Of course, I should have been in a good mood. I had told myself, whilst listening to Morey listing all his bishop’s shortcomings, that I’d stop drinking at eight. So I’d done well to have had my last shot of whisky at 9pm. Drinking a lot of water, plus two ibuprofens, meant that I woke up pretty much headache free. My three favourite drugs: Ibuprofen, caffeine, and alcohol. What one doesn’t cure, the other one will.

  The garden had been promised a bit of a clear out on the first dry morning when I had no appointments. So rain had been a welcome sight. When Raven landed on the soggy lawn, I abandoned Facebook and went out to greet him. A short exchange about miserable weather had led to this trip to a place where rain never fell. And where pterodactyls had decided that extinction was a bad idea and best avoided.

  My initial thoughts about the exciting possibilities of spotting brontosaurus, and a momentary concern as to whether a dragon could fight off a Tyrannosaurus rex, had evaporated as quickly as the water on my coat. I couldn’t get my conversation with Bishop Nigel out of my head.

  ‘What’s it like to live in Lloegyr?’ I asked Raven.

  The dragon had been watching the pterodactyl. ‘I don’t live in Lloegyr.’

  ‘Well, actually, I mean in one of the cities. Like Llanbedr.’

  ‘I don’t live in a city.’

  ‘Well,’ I said patiently, ‘you’ve visited Llanbedr. I was just wondering how well everyone gets along. All the different races, now living side by side.’

  ‘Most still remain in their own areas.’

  ‘They don’t mingle?’

  ‘You know the different races do.’ He snorted, which made the dinosaur shriek a complaint in our direction. ‘There would be no Cadw ar Wahân if they didn’t.’

  ‘Other than that,’ I persisted. ‘Is there a lot of tension?’

  ‘Probably.’ His tail slapped the ground, flinging sand over my boots. ‘Possibly.’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘Don’t know, don’t care.’ Raven opened his jaws in an exaggerated yawn. ‘I don’t live in Lloegyr.’

  ‘But it’s your home country,’ I said. ‘You must care what happens there.’

  ‘Must I? Why?’

  ‘I’d care what happened to England.’

  ‘Even if you had to exile yourself from your homeland?’

  I thought of cricket on village greens, a pint of warm beer in a pub garden, the excitement at the start of a new Doctor Who series. ‘Yes. Because it is my homeland. Why don’t you?’

  He drew back his head, and looked down at me. ‘Lloegyr bores me. This conversation is boring me. You’re in danger of boring me, Penny. And I do so hate being bored.’

  ‘Is that my purpose in your life?’ I asked. ‘To keep you from being bored?’

  ‘It’s worked well until now.’

  The sun was beating down on my cheeks, and I could almost feel my skin beginning to redden. I crunched through sand to stand in Raven’s shadow. ‘There has to be more to a relationship than excitement.’

  ‘And again, I ask, why?’

  The sickly sweet smell of decaying meat drifted across to my nostrils. I swallowed hard. ‘Because it’s after the initial excitement goes that the real relationship can develop.’

  ‘Is this because that woman betrayed you?’ Raven asked, sounding more curious than annoyed. ‘I have offered to hunt her down and extract her tongue.’

  ‘But you don’t want to talk about that either.’

  ‘What would talk accomplish? Removing her tongue would be far more effective.’ And he chuckled. ‘And much more satisfying.’

  My head was beginning to pound, and I wondered if the ibuprofen had worked as well as I’d thought. ‘Take me home, Raven,’ I said wearily. ‘Just take me home.’

  <><><><><><>

  The rest of the week was little better. On Tuesday, the church treasurer tendered his resignation for the third time, and in a moment of madness I accepted it. Of course, this meant that Holly was at my door within the hour to remind me that it had taken a long time to convince Robert to take up the position, we had no one else, and that she couldn’t possibly be expected to add bookkeeping to her already weighty duties as the only churchwarden. I had to agree to go meet Robert before she would leave my study.

  Then Thomas, my new Welsh tutor, invaded my kitchen for an intensive hour which left my head aching and my tongue twitching. Morey didn’t help matters by sniggering at every one of my mispronunciations. The tutor’s steady patience was the only thing which held me back from strangling the gryphon.

  Wednesday featured an assembly at the school, which went terribly wrong after a winged rat swooped in. Several children saw him, and their excit
ement meant that the hall full of youngsters paid more attention to their classmates than my attempt to explain Candlemas. Although, to be honest, I couldn’t blame them. Christmas was long over, and there was only grey and more grey to face before we could hope for a soggy spring and then a wet and miserable summer. And the rat didn’t even have a message for me. He had become lost and had been told that I was someone who helped people from Lloegyr.

  The afternoon had not been improved by a sharp rain shower which caught me out when returning to my car from a funeral visit. I went home, changed into dry clothes, and stared at Clyde, who was simply sitting in his tank, looking as bleak as the weather outside. What could I do to enrich his life? The internet was full of ideas on how to spice up the lives of cats, dogs, parrots, and even pigs. But no one had ever given a thought to the psychological needs of snails.

  James joined me in the lounge, and we drank a bottle of red wine between us, ignoring each other as we watched celebrities we’d never heard of trying to eat a plate of insects. I might never be famous, I told myself as I headed to bed, but at least I didn’t have to add cockroaches to my diet.

  Thursday morning, still in my pyjamas, I stared glumly at the heady mixture of opinion and memes on Facebook while I tried to think of something rather more positive to do. I didn’t even have Morey around to irritate me.

  My iPhone buzzed, then played the Doctor Who theme. I found myself grinning as I answered. ‘Hi, Peter.’

  ‘Good morning, Penny. Listen, I know it’s your day off, but--’

  My laughter cut him off. ‘Sorry,’ I quickly apologised. ‘But you don’t know how many times I’ve heard that from a church member.’

  ‘I can imagine. Anyway, I’m really sorry, but it’s bad news. That unicorn mare you found? She managed to break out of her enclosure last night and, well, she’s passed.’

  ‘Just say “dead”,’ I found myself telling him. ‘“Passed” makes it sound like she’s done well on an exam. What happened?’

  ‘I’d like you to have a look for yourself. Can you come down to the Midlands Safari Park?’

  ‘I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’ Which actually didn’t give me enough time to change, but I’d blame traffic when I arrived fifteen minutes late.

  The safari park was as empty as I’d expect on a wet day in January. I parked near the entrance, and gave my name to the woman at the ticket office. A few minutes later, a member of staff came to collect me.

  The veterinary block was a five minute walk. The rain held off, and I even felt nearly warm by the time we arrived at the squat red-brick building. Once inside, I was handed a welcome mug of coffee before being escorted to the main office.

  Peter came to greet me, an older woman at his side. She held out her hand and introduced herself as ‘Doctor Jennifer Lawson, please call me Jen.’

  ‘What was your doctorate in?’ I asked.

  The previously grim face relaxed into a smile. ‘Well spotted. I did a PhD in the physiology of plesiosaurs. Nessie was most co-operative.’

  ‘Which she often isn’t,’ Peter commented.

  ‘I have a way with water creatures.’ Jen stepped back, and indicated that we were to go down the hallway. ‘The penguins here will talk to me.’

  ‘In penguin, no doubt,’ I said.

  ‘In Welsh, actually.’ Jen’s smile had broadened. ‘A good number of the penguins in our zoos are from Daear. They come here to do research on humans. For some reason, we fascinate them. They think we’re comical.’

  ‘It’s a bit like the mice in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,’ Peter explained. ‘Except they aren’t looking for the ultimate question.’

  ‘As far as we know,’ I reminded him. ‘Maybe the answer isn’t forty-two after all.’

  ‘Don’t tell me that, I’ve based major life decisions around that number.’

  Talking science fiction to Peter had lifted my spirits. And, of course, I had this evening to look forward to. Then I had a thought. ‘There was a penguin at a wedding I did. I wonder...?’

  ‘One of ours,’ Jen confirmed. ‘I’ve read her paper. The Exigencies of Avian Presence in Human Matrimonial Ceremonies. Tilly was particularly fascinated by the ritual sacrifice at the end of the event.’

  I saw Peter’s eyebrows climb. ‘The owl caught one of the doves,’ I explained. ‘It wasn’t part of the plan.’

  We had reached the end of the corridor. The dark grey body was stretched across the doorsill, the head twisted back, the eyes glassy and staring. I felt my feet drag as we approached the dead unicorn. The sting of guilt was stronger than ever. Was James right? Had I somehow been responsible for this?

  A few strands of mane brushed over my shoes as I stepped past her and into the room. I suppressed a shudder and looked around. We were in a small office. At the far end stood a large cabinet. The doors were open, revealing metal racks on which rested bottles and boxes of various drugs. Several shelves were empty. A crunch under my shoe make me look down at the pills which were rolling across the floor. Crushed plastic containers were scattered over the linoleum.

  ‘She broke out of the equine enclosure and made her way here,’ Jen said. ‘We don’t know how she managed to get through so many locks.’

  ‘Unicorn horn.’ Peter sighed. ‘Russell told us horns can undo locks. Obviously even a stub works. The ultimate sonic screwdriver. Wonder if it works on wood?’

  ‘This wasn’t an accident,’ I said.

  Jen nodded. ‘She knew what she was doing. She wanted to poison herself.’

  I winced. Perhaps I had misinterpreted the mare’s shudder when my neighbour had pointed out the dangerous qualities of ragwort. Had she decided that there was a way out of her intense emotional pain? I forced those thoughts aside to deal with later. ‘What are you going do with the body?’

  ‘That’s why Peter suggested we contact you,’ Jen said. ‘We’ll send her on to the morgue, but Russell can only store her for so long. Could you visit the Archdruid and ask her what she wants us to do?’

  ‘Certainly.’ I pulled out my iPhone and looked at my Google calendar. ‘I’ll go Saturday morning.’

  There was an expectant pause as I slid my smartphone back into my trouser pocket. I glanced between Peter and Jen, wondering what they were expecting from me. Finally, the veterinarian cleared her throat. ‘Do you know what to do? Is there anything we’re supposed to say, or any particular way we’re supposed to handle the body?’

  Unicorn death rituals had not featured in any of the conversations I’d had with the Archdruid. But obviously the humans in the room needed something for their own peace of mind. So I took a deep breath, went back to the door, and knelt beside the still body. For a moment my hand hovered over the contorted neck. Then I forced myself to touch the cold skin. ‘Dear Lord and Father,’ I prayed aloud, ‘you love everything you have made, and every soul is held in your hands. Hear us as we offer this unicorn, your child, into your loving care. In your mercy, pardon her from any sin, gather her into your arms, and welcome her into your eternal kingdom. And comfort us still here on Earth and in Daear, who mourn her death. Amen.’

  ‘Amen,’ Peter and Jen echoed.

  I tried, and failed, to shut the unicorn’s eyelid. For some reason this unsettled me, and I swallowed hard against a sudden queasiness in my stomach. Then Peter was at my elbow, offering me support as I rose to my feet.

  ‘Have a stroll through the park before you go back home,’ Jen offered. ‘You can practise your Welsh on the penguins.’

  She obviously had no idea how little I relished the idea. Morey laughing at me had been bad enough. At least he hadn’t been dressed up in a dinner suit. ‘Thanks, that’d be good.’

  I zipped up my coat as we left the warm building. Despite Jen’s invitation, Peter and I headed straight for the exit. He escorted me to my car, and I grinned up at him. ‘Seven?’

  He ran a hand through his dark hair. ‘About that. Sorry. A meeting’s been called tonight about the increase in vampire s
ightings. I have to go.’

  I snorted. ‘Well, okay, but don’t ever complain again about me working on an evening off.’

  Peter gave me a puzzled look. ‘When’ve I done that?’

  ‘Sorry, that was Alan,’ I said before I could stop myself. And now we’d reached the Second Big Test of any romantic relationship. The first mention of the ex.

  ‘Well, that’s not me,’ he said firmly. And as he walked away, I wondered whether I should call him back, try to explain, justify myself, or even apologise. Then he was too far away, and I unlocked my car, cursing myself for my indecision. First Raven, now Peter. Was I destined to drive them both away?

  <><><><><><>

  I had tried everything with the young couple whose baby was being baptised the coming Sunday. My joke about being safe from vampires once the water in the font had been blessed (although I did know that holy water doesn’t affect vampires) didn’t raise even a smile. The short version of the Christian faith which I called ‘ready for Twitter’, didn’t make the mother look up from her shoes. I played my final card, making a reference to the Northampton Saints, but the father turned out to be a cricket fanatic.

  So I decided to put us all out of our misery. No doubt they had better things to do on their Friday evening than listen to a vicar failing to charm them. Just because I had nothing to go home to didn’t mean I should inflict myself upon them any longer than necessary. ‘So, have a watch of this,’ I said, handing over a DVD about the importance of baptism. ‘And I’ll see you on Sunday.’

  The young woman accepted the DVD without enthusiasm. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  Her partner shifted in his seat. Then he suddenly blurted out, ‘See, we never wanted the christening in your church.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘We wanted the church in town,’ the woman said sullenly. ‘But the vicar there said that wasn’t our church, that we had to come to you.’