by Bryan Fields
She looked around at the chaos filling the street and said, “I want some blueberry pancakes.”
I rattled my handcuffs. “Sounds good. Just as soon as I get out of jail.”
As it turned out, I didn’t get taken to jail. I got cited for brandishing a weapon, but Mixon made sure his report stated I had only been trying to cut the snare wire. We were free to go, but my Dwarven sword was still seized as evidence. I pretended it didn’t bother me, and we set about inviting our friends out for breakfast. Charles, Vicki, and Martin declined to join us, but agreed to come over for dinner once the furor died down.
We gathered up our little Scooby gang and headed up I-25 to a small, roadside waffle joint frequented by truckers, farmhands, and folks visiting the RV camp next door. As we got out of the car, Harmony turned to Rose and slapped her on the cheek.
Without thinking about it, I pushed Rose behind me and fell into a ready position, holding my sword poised to strike. It took me a few seconds to realize what I was doing. I lowered my hands, staring at the sword I was holding. The scabbard slung across my back didn’t register for several more seconds.
Harmony snapped the wire holding the evidence tag on the pommel. She wadded the tag up and stuffed it in her pocket. “We’ll burn this later,” she announced. She put her arm around Ember, and set off for the diner’s front door.
I sheathed the blade and stowed it in the Range Rover. “Rose, care to explain how the sword got here?”
“It answers to your call,” she said. She snorted and added, “You don’t think I’d give you a weapon someone could take away, do you?” She started laughing and led me to the door, following Miranda and Jake.
The weeks to come would bring resignations and emergency elections for the HOA, culminating in Rose and Charles being among those elected to the board. Apparently, managing funds and doing accounting doesn’t count as working for a living either. It took Rose fifteen minutes to find enough shenanigans in the books to call for an independent investigation for possible fraud. The new board hired some accounting boffins to run an audit on the books, resulting in more charges against Tennyson and his secretary. The others may have been jerks, but Tennyson was downright crooked.
Martin and his folks appeared on one of the national TV morning shows, along with Angela Hernandez, the SWAT officer. She had still almost resigned, but Charles and Vicki convinced her to stay on. The news crew footage clearly showed Martin being hit twice; now, there wasn’t a mark on him. Some folks called it a miracle. Others called it an elaborate hoax. The evidence of his other medical conditions was also alternately hailed and disputed. In the end, the believers outnumbered the skeptics, and even some hard line science types had to admit something they couldn’t explain had happened.
Martin wrote down everything he remembered about his trip to Rose’s world, and the following spring he published an illustrated book called Dragon Angels. Rose’s mother got the cover, painted by a world-famous fantasy artist, and don’t even get me started on the movie offers. However, all that was in our future.
Back at the waffle shack, we got our orders in and, by mutual consent of the Dragonesses at the table and in recognition of Miranda’s relationship with Jake, we brought him in on the secret. I was afraid he might not respond well, but having just seen Rose’s mother and a bona fide miracle, he was a lot more open to the idea than I had expected. Even Miranda was doing better with the whole idea. Falling in love with the right person will do that to you.
The Humans finished eating well before the Dragons did, so we set about goofing off while the last of the adrenaline passed out of our systems. Someone queued some 80’s classic rock on the jukebox, so Jake and I jammed on air guitar while Miranda pounded away on an invisible drum kit. Rose finished her second pile of blueberry pancakes and had a long stretch against the back of the booth, nearly bumping Ember in the process. When the song finished, Jake jumped up to see what else was on the playlist.
Harmony poured the last of the coffee from the carafe into her cup. “I hope we are agreed there will be no more Dragon sightings? It seems to me this world’s reservoir of mystery has been refilled quite to the brim already.”
I waved for more coffee and asked, “Well, Rose? Ready to give up the cryptid business?”
“I think so,” Rose replied. “Except…” I saw her eyes drift to a nearby table and followed her gaze. She was looking at the bright green emblem on a trucker’s travel mug. She pulled her hair back and pushed her boobs up until the stitches on her shirt complained. “How do you all think I’d look as a mermaid?”
BOOK THREE:
AN ANNOYANCE OF UNICORNS
Chapter One
A Horse of Eight Legs
‘Amazing Grace’ is not a song for bright and beautiful summer days. It should be grey and fog-bound. Heaven itself should weep today. I stiffened my back, right hand on the shoulder of the man in front of me, and let the casket’s weight settle on my shoulder. This was no way to welcome a hero home.
Anthony Michael Doyle, twenty-six, USMC. We grew up playing D&D during weekend-long basement slumber parties. We got de-virginized together going to midnight movies in Boulder. We fought over the same girl once. He won, and discovered he was gay while he was dating her. I went to CU Boulder for a computer science degree. He joined the Marines because that was the closest thing to being a Viking he could find. He lived long enough to celebrate the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and died on the side of a mountain in Afghanistan, shouting “Blood for Odin!” to the last. If there’s any justice, the All-Father sent a buffed out, he-man Valkyrie to welcome Tony into Valhalla.
We set the casket on its dais and stepped back. The bagpiper finished his tribute, and for a brief moment we heard the faint shouts from a certain scumbag church—you know the one—picketing a quarter of a mile away. A line of bikers flying POW/MIA flags stood between the self-righteous idiots and the funeral party, blocking the signs they were displaying. We ignored the cretins and made room at the grave side for the Denver Gay Men’s Chorus.
Tony had left some specific instructions for today’s event, and one of those was to have a song performed by the DGMC. His parents settled on ‘Mo Ghile Mear’. God knows how the guys learned the Irish portion of the song in three days, but they nailed it.
The minister was from the church Tony’s parents attended. He wasn’t about to start praising Odin, but he delivered a very respectful eulogy. Tony’s father spoke, his sister spoke, and I added my bit. I held Rose’s hand while the bugler played ‘Taps’ and the rifle salute sounded.
Before the casket was lowered, Tony’s mother took my hand. “Do you know anything we could say that would be, well, appropriate for Tony’s…beliefs?”
“Well, sort of. It’s based on an Arab historian’s account of a Viking funeral in medieval Russia. I think it’s something Tony would appreciate.”
“Please, go ahead.” She walked with me to the edge of the grave. “Do we bow our heads?”
“No. We look up.” I raised my hand and held it out over the grave.
“Behold, I see my ancestors assembled.
Behold, I see all who came before me gathered in a great hall.
Behold, I see the Father of All, seated in a high place,
And Paradise around him is good, and green, and my heart is made whole.
I hear the High One call my name. Take me to him, and I will dwell in the halls of the brave until the last days of the world.”
I lowered my hand, and we lowered Tony into the earth.
We exchanged hugs and handshakes, walking in small groups back to our cars. Tony’s father, himself a retired lifer, stopped next to the funeral home’s limo and stared hard at the scumbags. “Tony died for their right to pull this crap,” he said. “I still want to call in an air strike on them.”
I said, “Just love your son, sir. Do that, and they’ve already lost.”
He nodded and started to shake my hand, when his eyes focused behind me. His hand dropped. “W
hat in the hell..?”
A small storm cloud was forming in the middle of the road, but unlike the ones I’d seen before, this one had a light spilling out from behind it. For a moment, I saw a Unicorn silhouetted against the bright golden glow. The storm vanished, leaving the Unicorn alone in the middle of the road. It stood there for a moment, a statue carved from moonstone. Then it shimmered like mercury and vanished, leaving a faint tinkle of wind chimes to mark its passing.
I looked at Rose. She shook her head.
“I don’t like it,” she said over dinner. “Unicorns are trouble. They’re all a bunch of self-righteous goody four-hooves, and they never, ever listen to anyone else.”
“Don’t they just hang around in forests, waiting for virgins to wander by?” I shrugged and spooned some guacamole on my fajitas. “What’s wrong with that?”
“The virgin thing was an idea my people made up,” Rose said. “It’s an effective form of population control.” She saw my look and added, “We don’t eat them. We give them visions and persuade them to enter a religious order we founded a few thousand years ago. The girls are sterilized when they take their vows and given a good education. Eating them attracts too much attention.”
“Fine,” I said. “So, what’s the issue with Unicorns?”
“Imagine a cat,” Rose said. “Not just a cat, but a cat that is such a cat, other cats come to it for cat lessons. Take a thousand cats, refine them down to a single drop of pure essence of cat, and then make a whole cat out of the stuff.”
I shivered. “Ewww. And that’s a Unicorn?”
“No,” she said. “That’s an Elf. A Unicorn is a thousand times worse. An Elf you can reason with. You can work with them, and find common cause for agreements. Unicorns don’t negotiate, they never change their minds, and they are never wrong.”
“And they don’t feel pity, remorse, or fear, either, I suppose.”
Rose scowled at me. “No, they don’t. Nor will they stop until they accomplish their purpose. They are not merely right, they are righteous. All they see is the whole. Individual life and death mean nothing to them. In fact, it’s their fault we have to come here.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Oh, this sounds like a good story. How did they manage that?”
Rose picked at her food for a moment before dropping her fork on the plate. “We were supposed to protect Human settlements. We were supposed to be teachers, and scholars, and advisors. On this world, the people of China see us that way, even today. We were to live with Humans, and their adoration would make us fruitful. That is why I need your energy now.”
“So where did things go wrong?”
“Humans started learning, just as they were intended to do.” Rose pulled her feet up into the chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. “They learned what we wanted them to know, and then they started learning more. They learned to value precious items. They learned to make weapons. They learned we were not gods. They learned we could die. We appealed to the Unicorns to restore their innocence, to free us from our bondage to their worship, and the Unicorns refused. As long as a river runs from the mountains to the sea, what does it matter the path it takes?”
I wanted to take her hand, but at the same time I could feel she didn’t want to be touched right now. “The Humans attacked, and you fought back. Instead of worship, you had fear and hatred poisoning your eggs.”
She nodded. “The children hatched from those eggs were abominations. In the last war, we unleashed them on the armies sent against us. No one won that war. Still the Unicorns did nothing. Finally, the last Human King came to our last General, and we made peace. Walls of stone and words on paper divided the land into ours and theirs. The Unicorns took no notice. We found our way to this world and repaired the damage to our life cycle, and the Unicorns did nothing. Now, one is here, and I am terrified for what it heralds.”
“I can see that,” I said. “But how much damage can one Unicorn do?”
Rose bit her lip and looked away. “Ask your dinosaurs how much damage one meteor can do.”
Ouch. “Point taken. What options do we have? Could you talk to the Unicorns back home and get them to come and fetch this one back?”
“I don’t know what they would do. They might help us, they might help the one that’s here. It’s hard enough to stop one.”
I felt intense fear moving through Rose, almost to the point of panic. She suppressed it, but the current was still there. I felt her hiding something from me and decided not to press her on the matter.
After a brief silence, I asked, “Do you think Harmony would have any suggestions?”
“No. But I do need to report it.” She pushed her plate away. “Save the rest for me. I’m not hungry.”
She stepped back and vanished, returning to her world and leaving me staring at eight pounds of fajitas fixings. For the first time in our relationship, we had leftovers. We’ve brought food home before, but it was always something extra we had ordered. I got the food packed away and the dishwasher loaded, but now I was getting worried as well. I wasn’t sure what I should be doing, so I settled down to try some Internet searches.
Chapter Two
Agent of Order
Unicorn artwork. Unicorns in fantasy literature. Videos of alleged unicorn sightings, all very blurry and in one case clearly a caribou. Unicorn cosplay. Canned unicorn meat. Unicorns painted on black velvet, and, of course, Unicorn porn.
Stop. Brain bleach time. Can’t watch that.
No new sightings, no reports of forests experiencing sudden growth or rejuvenation, no reports of any Fortean phenomena that could be attributed to a Unicorn. I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes, sighing. “Come on, think. If I were an immortal, ethereal Unicorn, where would I be parking my shiny-assed self?”
“Right behind you, Mr. Fraser.” The voice was broad, measured, slightly condescending, and totally unexpected.
My office is arranged so I can look to the left and watch Rose sunbathe, look to the right and see the door and the vaulted ceiling over the living room. I have bookshelves behind me and all the room entrances in front of me. Nothing gets in my office without me seeing it. So, of course, the voice startled the Hell out of me. I jumped up, sending my keyboard flying and knocking my drink off the table, and turned around.
The Unicorn was standing behind my desk, in a space that normally is far too small for a horse-sized creature. As far as I could tell, he had stretched the wall of my room five feet further out than it was supposed to be. He didn’t seem to be completely solid, but he lifted a hoof and kicked my water bottle back to me. Solid enough, then.
He did look more or less horse-like with a single horn, but I’d describe him as being more deer-like, with cloven hooves and a leonine tail. He had a slight glow, but was soft around the edges, as though someone had turned on a Unicorn-shaped neon light and then removed the glass. The only solidity to him was in his eyes. They were still black holes, drawing in everything around him. They even had a small swirl around the edge, almost a miniature event horizon.
“Ummm, hello. Sorry, you scared the crap out of me.”
“Apparently.” He inclined his head towards my chair. “Perhaps you should sit down, Mr. Fraser.”
I stayed standing, but I did pick up my water bottle and place it back on my desk. The action gave me a chance to gather my wits and think an alarm towards Rose. I didn’t feel any response, though I could still feel her presence. “I’m fine,” I said. “In fact, I was just looking for news about you. Where have you been hiding?”
“In your exercise room. I’ve been watching your bard-in-a-box and learning about your world.”
“That explains why there were no news stories about you.” I looked at him for a moment, and then looked down. Cloven hooves, shining like polished silver. I looked back up. “How did you work the remote?”
Some invisible force pushed me into my chair and turned me to face my computer screen. A blank document opened and the words, ‘Like thi
s, Mr. Fraser’ appeared on the screen, all without disturbing the mouse or keyboard.
“Fine,” I said. “Unicorn Naturally Thinking. You’ll make a fortune.”
“The proper term for myself or any other member of The Tribe is ‘Caretaker’, Mr. Fraser, not that any of your kindred have ever had opportunity to ask. Please feel free to note it for future reference.”
“Caretakers. Got it.” I pointed to the door and tried to slip past his horn. “Let me go get Rose. I’m sure you have a good deal to talk about.”
“I have no need to speak to the Sky-Rider, Mr. Fraser. I came here to speak with you. You and I are encased in a bubble of stilled time, so there’s no point in trying to call anyone to assist you.”
I sat back down. “I guess I’m a captive audience, then. So, what do you want?”
I think I saw an eyebrow lift. It was hard to tell. “I want to heal The Tribe, Mr. Fraser, and set my world to rights. I’m not sure how it happened, but my people have become distracted from their charge, and my world has suffered for it. What I want you to do is tell the Sky-Riders to return home. Once I’m finished, they will be restored to their rightful place and will be receiving the adoration they require once more. They will no longer need to come here.”
I decided to go ahead and sit back down. “The Dragons have been coming here for at least one hundred thousand of your years. Why are you only just now noticing and doing something about it?”
“I was caught in the same miasma of irrelevance the rest of The Tribe suffers from. I would be deluded still if not for being summoned here. You saw me the last time I appeared, even though I only partially manifested.”
I nodded. I’d seen him during a drumming party three months ago, during our hassles with the creeps who used to run our HOA. “I remember. I wasn’t sure I had actually seen you, but I was a little busy at the time. However, I don’t recall any one summoning you. I think I would have noticed that.”