The Unicorn Emergency

by Lucy Coats

  * * *

  He didn’t sleep very well.

  Nightmares of unicorns with broken legs, unicorns with purple spots, and worst of all, unicorn skeletons kept waking him up. As Eos drew back the pink curtains of dawn, he jumped out of bed and grabbed the note, stuffing it inside his tunic. Until he knew who had sent it, he couldn’t do much about it, though, and it was bothering him. The thought of any animal in pain was not something he was ever happy about.

  The Stables below were full of the noise of waking beasts, yawning, stretching, and in some cases clamoring for their morning ambrosia cake. Doris the Hydra was particularly affectionate, drooling mightily and rubbing its nine heads against him as the buckets of food were tipped into its manger. Behind him came Bion with the poo barrow and shovel, and between them they had the Stables spick-and-span in almost no time at all.

  “All right!” said Demon when they were finished. “Listen up, everybody. Did anyone come with a note for me yesterday?”

  Anyone else would have heard a whole lot of animal noises. But Demon could speak every beast language. All he heard was a whole lot of NO. He didn’t think he’d better go near the unicorn again, so he stepped outside and had a word with his friend, the nymph Althea.

  “Can you ask the unicorn if she knows anything about this, please?” he asked her, showing her the note. Her nose wrinkled as she touched it.

  “Ugh! All slobbery,” she said. “And who writes in glowy ink now? That’s so last year.” But she agreed to ask. When she came back, she was shaking her head.

  “The unicorn doesn’t know anything about it. She hasn’t seen her family for years, so now she’s very worried. Oh, and she said to tell you to have a bath. You stink of poo!” With that, she ran off to polish some flowers with the rest of her sisters. A tiny, silvery giggle rang out behind Demon but was quickly cut off as he whipped around, glaring.

  “It’s not funn . . . ,” he said, his voice trailing off as he realized there was nobody there. He scratched his head. Must have imagined it, he thought. But the hairs on his neck still prickled as if invisible eyes were watching him.

  CHAPTER 5

  CANINE CHAOS

  He trailed over to Melanie the naiad’s spring. She was sitting there, combing her long blue locks with a silver comb.

  “Do I really smell bad?” he asked. The unicorn’s comment had hurt. Melanie sniffed carefully.

  “No more than usual,” she said. “But you can have a swim and a wash in my pool if you like. I’ll even lend you my new soap if you tell me all about your adventures in Asgard.”

  Demon eyed her.

  “Do you swear not to look while I’m bathing?” he asked.

  “Pinkie promise,” she said, holding out her little finger.

  * * *

  A little while later, just as he had dried off and got into a clean tunic, he heard the sound of loud barking. Melanie tutted.

  “That Golden Dog is so noisy,” she said. “I don’t know how poor old Amaltheia puts up with him.” Golden Dog was a mysterious creature who lived in the Stables with his best friend, the ancient nanny goat who had looked after Zeus when he was little.

  Demon cocked his head, listening.

  “That’s not Golden Dog,” he said. “Or at least, it’s not only him . . .” Before he could say another word, a whole pack of hounds came racing out of thin air, led by Golden Dog. They were white and very hairy, with their red ears pricked up and long tails that wagged frantically.

  “Demon!” they barked, crowding around him and jumping up to put their huge paws on his shoulders. “We found you! We hunted you down! She will be pleased!”

  Golden Dog was doing his usual leaping and licking, swiping his long pink tongue over both Demon and Melanie until the naiad screeched.

  “Off! Off! Get away from my pool, you wretched beasts!” She grabbed handfuls of waterweed and flung it at the hounds who had leaped into the water and were cavorting around in it like puppies.

  Demon hid a smile. Dogs were always so enthusiastic. Then his brain caught up with what he’d just heard.

  “Wait!” he said to a particularly playful hound who was licking his clean toes. “Who will be pleased? Did you deliver that note last night?” But the dogs weren’t listening to him. They leaped out of the pool, shaking streams of water everywhere, and raced into the Stables. As Demon heard an ominous clatter, he raced after them, but it was too late.

  Brooms and buckets lay scattered everywhere. Bion the faun had fallen smack on his face into the poo barrow, and poor Doris the Hydra lay on its back, green legs kicking in the air, with wet paw prints all over it. Before Demon could even open his mouth to shout, he heard a strangled squawk, and the griffin came bounding past, wings flapping, with the whole pack of dogs on its heels.

  “Save me, Pan’s scrawny kid,” it gasped, orange eyes wide with fear.

  “STOP!” Demon yelled as he ran after them. “You dogs come back here. Come to heel!” But as the griffin soared into the air, with a leaping hound just missing its lion’s tail by a hair, the pack streaked off around Olympus, howling their heads off, and he knew he’d never catch them.

  There weren’t any animals outside for them to chase, so he turned back to the Stables to survey the damage. Doris was back on its feet, whimpering a little and shaking its nine heads, and Bion had climbed out of the poo barrow and was spitting clumps of straw and other more unmentionable things out of his mouth.

  “Are you both all right?” Demon asked.

  “I’m fine,” Bion said, though he looked a bit pale. Doris just tottered over and nuzzled Demon affectionately.

  “More snackies?” it asked hopefully.

  Demon caught a flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye as he started to pick things up and set the Stables to rights.

  “Come here, Golden,” he said sternly. “Who were those hounds, and why did you bring them here? They could have killed poor Griffin and Doris. What were you thinking?”

  “Yes, you tell him, young Golden,” came a creaky old voice from a nearby stall. “Why, those wretched creatures made such a racket, it nearly turned my milk sour.” It was old Amaltheia the nanny goat.

  Demon had never seen Golden Dog look so guilty before. The big animal slunk out, tail between his legs and ears back, creeping to Demon’s feet on low legs.

  “Sorry, Demon,” he whined as Demon heard faint nymph and cherub shrieks from outside. “I brought one of them last night to deliver Artemis’s message, and he told the others it smelled so good in here that they all wanted to come and fetch you. I didn’t think they’d go crazy like that.”

  Demon felt as if he’d been kicked in the belly by a centaur.

  “Wait,” he said slowly. “Did you just say that the unicorn message was from ARTEMIS?”

  Golden Dog’s ears pricked up.

  “Yes! Yes!” he barked, wagging his tail. “From Artemis. She wants to see you quite badly. Those hounds are hers.”

  Demon groaned. The last time he’d seen the goddess of the hunt, she had threatened to shoot him with her silver bow. Only Hestia the kitchen goddess had been able to stop her. He should have realized at once the hounds were hers.

  What on earth could Artemis want with him now? He shivered slightly as he remembered hearing the gossip about poor Actaeon, who’d seen her bathing in a moonlit pool one night by mistake. Artemis had turned him into a white stag and had her hounds hunt him down and tear him to pieces. She was definitely not one of the safer goddesses to tangle with, but if she wanted him, he’d have to go.

  “I’d better go and find those hounds,” he said.

  * * *

  Demon had never said it’s not my fault so many times to so many angry nymphs and cherubs. The hounds had left a trail of destruction all around Olympus, knocking off flowers and chasing cherubs up trees.

  “It’ll take us ages to gr
ow all the blossoms back,” said an angry Ophelia, the dryad in charge of the orchards. Finally, Demon tracked the hounds down to the poo chute, where they were licking up the remains of the last barrow load and, even worse, rolling in it. He could hear the hundred-armed monsters below roaring with annoyance.

  “Disgusting creatures,” he said. “Bad dogs! Come here at once and stop eating that. It’ll make you sick.”

  The largest dog looked up and gave him a doggy grin, smelly smears of brown and green coating its neck.

  “But it’s so delicious,” he barked.

  “I don’t care,” said Demon. “I need to know what this unicorn emergency is and why Artemis wants me.”

  Immediately, all the hounds sat to attention.

  “Artemis! Artemis! Artemis!” they howled, all on different notes, so it blended together like a song. “Beloved Artemis!”

  Demon shook his head. He knew a losing battle when he saw one.

  “You’re hopeless,” he said, walking toward the Stables again. Then he sniffed as a waft of poo-laden air drifted past. “And you smell really bad,” he muttered.

  When the hounds had stopped howling, Demon returned with Golden Dog, carrying his medicine sack and the magic medicine box.

  “Take me to Artemis,” he said, clutching Golden’s collar as they crowded around him, whacking him with the frantic wagging of their long tails. “Let’s see what this unicorn emergency is all about.”

  As they left, he thought he felt a small hand clutch onto his tunic, but he forgot it almost immediately as he felt the whirling, stomach-churning sensation that meant Golden Dog was taking him through the little gaps in time and space. When it stopped, Demon was in a glade that smelled of pine trees and ancient green things. A shining goddess was standing before him, and Golden Dog had disappeared.

  CHAPTER 6

  ARTEMIS AWAITS

  Artemis was dressed in a knee-length tunic, clasped at the shoulder with a circular silver brooch in the shape of two running stags. In her hand she carried a silver bow, with a quiver of silver arrows slung over her back, and her feet were shod in silver sandals whose ribbons twined up her long legs like growing vines. She smelled of moonlight and violets and fresh blood.

  Demon fell to his knees, and then flat on his face, as soon as he saw her. One of those silver-shod feet was tapping angrily on the grass, and she was frowning. This was never a good sign in Demon’s experience. A frowning goddess could only lead to one thing. Visions of a large, smoking heap of Demon-shaped charcoal flashed through his head.

  “Where have you been, Stable Master?” Artemis asked, and her voice was both loud as the belling of a hundred packs of hounds and soft as a breeze through trees at night. “You have kept me waiting.”

  “I-I’m s-sorry, Your Moonlight Magnificence,” he stammered. “I was away with Hephaestus, there was an emer—” Artemis’s foot inserted itself under his jaw, closing his mouth so his words were cut off.

  “The smith god’s affairs do not concern me,” she said, and her tone bit into him as harshly as a giant fire ant. “Only my own. Now get up and face me. I have work for you to do.”

  As Demon scrambled to his feet, the hounds crowded around her, rubbing their big hairy heads against her and whining with pleasure as she bent down to pull their long red ears and pat them, speaking to each by name. Surely a goddess who loves her dogs so much can’t be all bad, he thought.

  He looked around at where he was. Tall pine trees soared overhead, their needles soft under his feet. In the sky above, a crescent moon shone among the stars like a shining sliver of cut fingernail. He had just time to wonder if the Pleiades had managed to herd them all back into their right places, when Artemis straightened up from her hounds.

  “What do you know about healing unicorns?” she asked abruptly.

  Demon thought about lying, but he knew she’d only find him out.

  “Not m-much, Your Silvery Serenity,” he admitted. “The unicorn on Olympus has never been sick, and I haven’t come across any others.” He eyed the goddess cautiously and decided to risk a question. “What’s wrong with your one, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Artemis frowned again, but this time Demon thought it was with worry.

  “It’s not just one unicorn, Stable Master. It’s my whole herd. All the wild unicorns on earth, in fact. The adult mares are very sick indeed, and some of the foals are near death, though the stallions are fighting it hard.” She glared at him, her silver-gray eyes flashing in the dim light. “Can you cure them?”

  Demon’s heart sank. One sick unicorn was bad enough, but a whole herd? That was going to be almost impossible. He fingered the side of his head where he’d been gored. How was he going to get near them if they felt the same about boys as the one on Olympus did?

  “I-I’ll do my very best, Your Amazing Archeriness,” he said, backing away till he bumped into the rough trunk of a pine tree. “But I’ll have to see them first.” Artemis took two gliding steps toward him and seized his chin in one long-fingered hand.

  “You will cure them, Pandemonius,” she whispered as softly as moonlight falling on ice. “If only one unicorn dies, I will give you to my hounds to hunt and then let them tear you to pieces one inch at a time. Are you going to fail me?”

  Demon thought of poor Actaeon’s fate again and shook his head frantically. The hounds crowded around him, all barking together, and he began to tremble. Were they going to eat a bit of him now as a warning not to fail? He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that maybe it wouldn’t hurt too much.

  But then something wonderfully unexpected happened. He began to listen to what the hounds were saying.

  “We LIKE Demon,” they howled.

  “He’s one of us!”

  “We won’t eat him!”

  Artemis stamped her foot, and the ground trembled.

  “YOU WILL IF I SAY SO,” she roared. Pine needles showered down around Demon’s head like fragrant raindrops. Artemis spoke again, more softly.

  “And if you won’t, my hounds, I shall encase him in one of these pine trees for all eternity, and let the bears and boars use him for a scratching post.” But as Demon began to tremble again, he saw several tall figures step out of the surrounding trees. Literally out of them. These were not dryads or anything like his orchard friend Ophelia up on Olympus. They were green and fierce-looking, and they surrounded the goddess.

  “Our pine trees will not take him, Moon Lady, nor will any of the trees of our sisters,” said the tallest. “Do not threaten the son of Pan.”

  “No,” said a deep, velvety voice, like mossy bark on ancient trees. “Do not threaten Pandemonius in my forests, Artemis. I will not allow it.” A tall figure with thick, hairy goat legs stepped out from between the trees.

  Demon let out a gusty sigh of relief. His dad had arrived!

  “Pan!” Artemis spat. “You interfering old goat. I’ll do what I like.” But Pan shook his curly-bearded head, and his yellow eyes with their slit black pupils narrowed.

  “He’s a good boy and a good healer,” Pan said. “It’s time you Olympians showed him some respect. Most of you threaten him and treat him like dirt, but who do you turn to when one of your precious beasts is sick? Has he ever let any of you down?”

  Demon’s heart swelled, and he felt tears prick at the back of his eyes. His dad had neglected him for most of his life. In fact, he’d never even met the forest god till he came and whisked Demon away to the Stables of the Gods. But it seemed his dad had been noticing things after all. And now he was standing up for him against Zeus’s own daughter.

  Artemis threw up her hands.

  “Oh, very well,” she said. “Since you all seem to think so much of the boy, I’ll be nice. And anyway, I’m sure he’ll cure my unicorns, so none of it will be necessary, anyway.”

  Pan laughed, striding over to lift Demon up into a god-hu
g that smelled of pungent green things, goaty musk, and old, stale blood.

  “Of course he will,” the god chuckled. “Won’t you, my boy?”

  “Y-yes, Your Dadness,” he said breathlessly as his father set him down again. Pan’s hugs were always very rib-squeezing.

  “All right, then,” said Pan. “Now that’s settled, I’ll be off. I promised your mother I’d drop in on her and the twins, and I’m already late.” With that, he disappeared into the trees as if he’d never been there. The dryads slipped back into their pines, and then it was just Demon, Artemis, and the hounds in the glade. Demon had a hollow feeling just below his ribs. For a minute he wished his dad had taken him along. Although he knew his mom was happy with her new babies, he still missed her sometimes.

  Then, in the quiet stillness Pan and the dryads had left behind, the hair on the nape of his neck prickled, just as it had back on Olympus. Suddenly, Demon felt a breath on his cheek that shouldn’t have been there.

  Whirling around, he looked behind him, but there was nobody to be seen.

  “No need to be so jumpy, Pandemonius,” said Artemis. “I said I’d be nice.”

  “I-it’s not you, Your Moonlight Magnificence,” he said. “I just thought . . . well, I just thought someone else was here. But I must have been mistaken.”

  Artemis laughed. “Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t,” she said mysteriously. “But come, there is no more time to waste. Bring your things and follow me. My unicorns are waiting.”

  With a cry like a horn blowing, she ran out of the glade, the hounds loping behind her like white smoke.

  CHAPTER 7

  GODDESS POWER

  Demon had never found it so hard to keep up with someone. As he ran behind the goddess and her hounds, deeper and deeper into the wild, untamed forest, the medicine sack over his shoulder and the magic medicine box under his arm became heavier and heavier.