ACCIDENTAL UNICORN, THE

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ACCIDENTAL UNICORN, THE Page 5

by Cassidy, Dakota


  “It’s funny you should mention your pets. I have a chipmunk. Her name’s Baloney.”

  Vinnie gasped in clear delight, smiling wider, thereby deepening her dimples. “Do you really? Can I see—”

  “Hey! Love Connection!” Nina threw a hand between them, her lips a thin line, her expression annoyed. “I have shit to handle at home. Let’s get this sparkly show on the damn road. We need to get moving before you’re forced to do kids’ parties with Elsa and Belle as your damn sidekicks in order to put bread on the table. Do you wanna shit glitter from your head for the rest of your life or do you wanna figure this out?”

  Nina was right. He let his head hang in shame before he straightened his shoulders and sat up, his spine rigid. “Sorry, Nina. I definitely want to figure this out. If for nothing else but the fact that I don’t think I can keep up with the kind of effort it takes to deal with all this glitter. I mean, who could?”

  “Okay then. She asked you if you noticed anything unusual about your fucking horn, Pony Boy. So have you noticed anything unusual about it other than it’s fucked up? Like, when you wave your head around, does it turn into a magic wand? Light saber? Or does it just shit glitter on everyone and everything?”

  He laughed at that because really, even if you had no sense of humor at all, this was some funny stuff. That’s when he remembered a small detail. Of course, it was ridiculous, but it was worth mentioning because who couldn’t use a laugh when they had a unicorn horn in the middle of their head?

  “You know, Nina, this has nothing to do with light sabers, but I did just think of something. You know what I had after lunch today?”

  “A rainbow?” she asked on a snarf before she grinned. “No, wait. Skittles?”

  He chuckled again, because he had to or he’d fall apart, and there was no way he was going to do that in front of strangers.

  “One of those unicorn Frapps from Starbucks. You know, the pink sugary drink? Ironic, right? Me, a unicorn, drinking a unicorn Frapp.”

  But no one laughed—not even a snicker. In fact, all the women looked at him as though he’d just made a joke at a funeral. Except for Vinnie; she flashed him a small smile, showing off her dimples.

  “Man, you guys. Tough crowd, huh? C’mon. That’s funny right?”

  “Not so funny, motherfucker,” Nina groused. “Don’t you remember what I told you about Wanda’s sister Casey and how she drank demon blood and then, lo and flippin’ behold, she became a demon?”

  “But you said that was an accident,” he protested. “That wasn’t meant for her, right? You can’t really think Starbucks is turning everyone into unicorns, can you? Is it some mass plan to take over the world by glittering everyone to death?”

  Nina waved a finger under his nose. “Listen, Sparkle Man, you have no idea what’s fucking out there. None. People will do a whole lot more for a whole lot less. Quit making jokes and start thinking of things to fucking help us.” Looking at Baloney, she cooed, “Tell Daddy to get his shit together and tell us if anything weird’s happened to him because a comedian he ain’t.”

  Baloney.

  Shit. He’d forgotten all about what had happened earlier with Baloney.

  Leaning back into the couch, Oliver nodded slowly. “Something weird has happened, actually.”

  “We’ve been here two fucking hours, Rainbow Brite. What the fuck took so long?”

  “Sorry. This thing sticking out of my head’s a little distracting.”

  “Forget her,” Vinnie ordered, all business. “Tell me what you noticed, Oliver.”

  He liked the way she said his name. “Nina? Would you give me Baloney, please?”

  Nina plopped down next to him and peeled a sleepy, protesting Baloney from her shoulder, dropping a kiss on her head. “It’s all right, Nugget. Daddy needs you, but I’m right here to save you from his crazy ass. Just say the word.”

  Oliver made a face, but he took Baloney from Nina, to the oooing and ahhing sounds of Vinnie, and held her in the palm of his hand. “This is Baloney, and Baloney had a lame hind leg. I found her on the front porch three years ago, and as long as I’ve known her, she’s always had it.” He tickled his chipmunk’s belly to rouse her from sleep.

  “May I?” Vinnie asked softly, holding out her fingertips in a tentative gesture.

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d caution you to be careful. She doesn’t normally like females, but Nina’s proven me wrong tonight. Still. I’m going to caution you anyway. Just be careful. She’s skittish.”

  Vinnie leaned forward and lightly grazed Baloney’s back, running her fingers over the white stripes adorning it with the lightest of touches.

  When Baloney actually leaned into her hand, Oliver knew everything would be all right.

  That’s when she asked, “So this unusual thing has to do with Baloney? Who, as an aside, is perfect in every way.”

  Oliver nodded. “It does. She’s always dragged her back leg behind her. She gets around just fine, mind you. But it’s always been lame. Today, when I got home and pulled off my hat, the first thing she did was scurry up along my body, went directly for the horn, and chewed on it. It hurt so damn much, I almost fell over. But guess what?”

  The women all looked at him with curious expressions.

  He rubbed his fingers together, trailing them along his arm to call Baloney, who followed them, running up his limb with nary a hitch in her stride.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Nina murmured, her eyes wide in shock. “No fucking way! It must be a fluke. How do we know she was lame before we met her? Is your daddy lying to me, Nugget?”

  Baloney looked at Nina, her sweet brown eyes adoring when she cocked her small head as though she were really listening to Nina.

  Handing Baloney over to Vinnie, he rose and began to make his way to the kitchen. “Let’s test that no-fucking-way theory, Nina.”

  There was the satisfying sound of rushed footsteps and Wanda calling to Marty to help her lift “enormous butt” off the couch as he went for the knife drawer, then turning to look at them all gathering around the island.

  He pulled the sharpest knife he had from the drawer, the gleaming silver catching the recessed lighting of the kitchen when he held it up.

  “Oliver, no!” Vinnie cried in protest, her pale face going paler still.

  Nina was beside him in a flash. “Give me that fucking thing, you stupid lunatic.”

  “Why?” he asked, comically leering down at her. “Will the scent of my blood tempt you?”

  Nina threw up both her middle fingers. “Fuck off with your nutty watch-too-much-shit-on-TV, weirdo. I’m not gonna let you mutilate—”

  Before she could stop him, Oliver ran it over the palm of his hand, which stung like hell, thank you very much, and held it up as a crimson line of blood began to drip down his forearm.

  Then, before he could chicken out, he slammed it against the horn on his forehead and tightened his fist around it.

  And prayed.

  Prayed it would work…or this was gonna hurt like hell come tomorrow.

  Chapter 5

  Vinnie gasped sharply, clinging to Baloney and tucking her close to her face. But the moment Oliver put his big fist around the horn was the moment the blood dried up and evaporated as if it had never been there.

  Which meant the legend she’d thought was just a bunch of bunk was really true.

  He could heal people with his horn.

  Holy cannoli.

  Everyone was so busy gawking at Oliver—who, as a side note, wasn’t hard on the eyeballs. He was easily a good six-two, maybe three. His coal-black hair, a little longish for her taste, just grazed the bottom of his neck, thick and shiny, and she had to admit, the purple and pink glitter his horn spat everywhere did kind of go with his complexion. Which was deep and ruddy, clear and smooth.

  His hands were huge as he gripped the horn, but it was his thighs that made her weak in the knees. She was a sucker for thickly muscled thighs, and he had those in spades. When he
moved, they bulged against his jeans, leaving her mouth watering.

  However, the immediate problem wasn’t how heart-stoppingly attractive Oliver was. The immediate problem was, he had an alicorn, and there wasn’t a God or Goddess with ill intent on their minds left in the universe who wouldn’t want him under lock and key forever.

  The power he held in that branch of many colors sprouting from his head was enormous, and could be used for evil just as easily as good.

  And that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. If, for instance, the government found out about this, the havoc they could wreak was something she couldn’t even ponder without shuddering. They’d turn him into the biggest science project yet.

  Yet, the real question? What made Oliver Baldwin the chosen one? What made him so special? No one suddenly turns into a unicorn for no reason. No one. Not ever. There were no recorded records of any living unicorns in this day and age. Not since the twelfth century. That left her with only legend and myth to go on.

  Yet, there was no denying Oliver Baldwin was a unicorn.

  So now what, Vin? What do you do now? You know as well as anyone, there are plenty of people who want what Oliver has, they’ve just never been able to find it.

  So when half of the Underworld could potentially come looking for him, with vengeance in their hearts and death on their minds, how do you protect him, Vinnie? How do you prepare him for that kind of battle?

  Worse, how could she tell him there might be a battle at all?

  Her stomach roiled, the glass of wine she’d had earlier sloshing in her stomach.

  For right now, until she understood more, she’d keep that under her hat and pray her forthright, some would say boldly single-minded nature stayed quiet and she was able to keep her mouth shut.

  So rather than speak at this point, she merely observed. Observed these fierce women both Khristos and Quinn had spoken so fondly about over a bottle of wine and a charcuterie plate, as they gaped at what his horn had done.

  Because neither Khristos nor Quinn could be here, she wanted to help in their stead. She wanted to do them proud.

  That they’d thought of her in a time of such immediate crisis left her flattered. Her admiration for Quinn having taken over none other than Aphrodite’s position knew no bounds. It was one of the tougher jobs a Goddess could endure, in her opinion. Going to battle was all well and good. But it was usually one and done. Fists flew, fire raged, and it was over.

  But dealing with matters of the heart?

  That was so very complicated. Even though Quinn had inherited the job by accident, she’d really stepped up to the plate. The love she shared with Khristos was enviable. It made Vinnie sigh every time they saw each other at a gathering at the college or some charity function.

  She really wished they were here right now because she didn’t know what to do or where to turn.

  Vincenza Raphaela Morretti was probably one of the very few people on earth who knew almost everything there was to know about the elusive unicorn…and truth be told, there wasn’t a whole lot to know, or at least she didn’t think there was.

  Khristos had a call into his mother, who’d been around for centuries. Maybe she could help. Still, who’da thunk she’d ever need to use what little information she had?

  When Oliver pulled his hand from his horn, all the women backed away except Nina, who grabbed his fingers and examined his palm, her jaw unhinged.

  But she gathered herself quickly. “Dude, you fucking healed your hand! What the shit?”

  Oliver shrugged his linebacker shoulders, his face a little pale. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Wanda ran a hand over her very large belly and blew out a breath. “You do know what this means, don’t you, ladies?”

  Marty narrowed her eyes in Wanda’s direction. “Please don’t say it.”

  Vinnie silently prayed with her, wincing. Please don’t say it.

  Wanda licked her lips. “You guys remember what happened with Quinn, don’t you? She had the power. Somebody wanted the power. It’s the same old, same old. If anyone finds out, human or paranormal, that Oliver has this kind of power, he’s stewed.”

  Marty sighed long and loud as she tucked her arms under her breasts. “The truth. There’s always someone waiting in the wings to snatch up something that isn’t theirs. Whether it’s because of jealousy or money or vengeance, there’s always someone.

  Nina dropped her hand on the gorgeous countertop like a hammer, making some residual glitter spray everywhere. “Fuuuck. You’re right. He’s a walking advertisement for easy money. Jesus. Christ. It’s not like we can hide this shit.”

  But Oliver wasn’t grasping the entire concept. “Hold on. What happened with Quinn? She’s a matchmaker. How is that a superpower?”

  Marty twirled a fat blonde curl around her index finger. “I told you before. Matchmaking isn’t just some fluffy, vapid thing Aphrodite does, Oliver. She makes matches with the end game in mind. Matches that will produce future powerful leaders, negotiators, fixers, if you will. She ensures these people land in the same place at the same time in order to produce those people—or sometimes, on a much more emotion-based level, in order to simply bring two people together who would have left this life alone, sad. What she does is insanely important to the world. The world. And had someone gotten ahold of that power…”

  By now, the wan sun was just beginning to rise, breaching the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows in the kitchen, and Vinnie was feeling it. She was suddenly quite exhausted, but Marty’s words made her stand straight and pay attention.

  She couldn’t have said it better, but she held her breath for what was to come.

  Nina rolled her head on her shoulders and cracked her knuckles. “So here’s what my favorite ass-sniffer’s tryin’ to tell you. There’s always someone, someone shitty, lurking out there in the fucking shadows like a GD grease spot, looking to take that power. You understand? You have the power to heal shit. I don’t know all the shit you can heal. I don’t know if it’s only cuts and scrapes, or it’s big shit like cancer or tumors or what all else. I only know this: somebody will want it. Someone will find out you fucking have it, and they’ll try to take it. I don’t know if it’ll be a human, like maybe someone from the government, or a paranormal, but somebody’s gonna want that sparkle baton on your big-ass head. You mark my flippin’ words, Ollie. Mark ’em.”

  Vinnie squirmed. She’d have preferred to tell him in a less abrasive way, but Nina spoke the truth.

  Suddenly, Oliver’s blue gaze swung to her, pinning her to the spot, making her cheeks hot. He stormed over to her, those thighs she’d admired flexing and bulging as he went.

  “So what they’re saying is true?” Then he shook his head, sending yet more glitter shooting everywhere. “I mean, of course it is, right? Who wouldn’t want something like that in their arsenal? I realize that sounds like a stupid question. I could totally see someone in the government wanting it, but someone paranormal?” He looked to the three women. “Don’t you all have immortality on your side? Why would they want this horn if they can’t get sick to begin with?”

  Vinnie licked her lips and tucked Baloney closer to her neck as the room closed in on her. “Almost all of them are immortal, yes. But Marty will tell you, not so long ago, she fell into a coma because she’s half human. Her turning was an accident and, as a result, she has human properties.”

  “And that’s not even taking into consideration the loons who track and hunt myth shit like they breathe,” Nina reminded. “We’ve had a fair amount of crazy Bigfoot lovers at our doorstep since we started the website, just hoping to catch us in the act of being fucking werewolves and vampires. There’s one who calls the hotline all the damn time. Don’t know who the fuck he is, but I can always smell a bullshitter. So I never give too much away. I’d hunt his ass down if I knew it wouldn’t make more trouble for our kind. But I’ll tell you this, he’s hellbent on proving we exist.”

  “Because you do exist
,” Oliver murmured.

  “Yeah, and now, so do you, pal,” Nina replied grimly. “That’s not taking into account the other paranormals who think they want in on this gig with us because it sounds like a fucking adventure, but what they really want is to find a way to exploit your ass. Believe me, we’ve had plenty of the vampire community offer to ‘help,’ but it’s all just bullshit. They just want to take fucking advantage of a pool full of fresh newbs who have no idea what they’re doing or the first clue about how to live as a paranormal.”

  Oliver gulped. “So you’re telling me, someone might hunt me for my unicorn horn?”

  “There are bad paranormal people as well as good, Oliver,” Vinnie reminded. “And like humans, they come from varying socioeconomic walks of life. So I’m sure if a bad paranormal got wind of this, they’d use it to their advantage for financial gain.”

  He pressed his hip against the island and inhaled a deep breath. “But how would they do that when I’m attached to the damn horn?”

  Her breathing sped up and her hands grew clammy. “They would—”

  “Detach it. Which—let me take a wild guess—would kill me, I suppose,” he replied woodenly.

  Yeah.

  Yeah. There was that.

  The morning had arrived, chilly and overcast, a perfect fall day as far as Vinnie was concerned. Like Oliver, whom she’d discovered shared her love of autumn, she adored the leaves, the crisp weather, a nice warm jacket, and a healthy fire.

  Unlike Oliver, she didn’t have a horn, but she was trying desperately to find a way to figure out how to deal with his new appendage and to keep him safe. That left her staring aimlessly out of his gorgeous windows in his beautiful kitchen at his backyard full of leaves in a state of semi-panic.

  The OOPS women had put a call in to their friends to help them, because Oliver was going to need round-the-clock supervision, and with Wanda on the verge of giving birth, they wanted to have backup available.

  In a matter of moments, a huge man with gold chains and high-top sneakers named Darnell had arrived, along with Carl, a pale green, childlike zombie, and the cutest elderly gentleman—in a sharp black suit and ascot—Vinnie had ever seen, named Archibald. The manservant, as he called himself, whisked in with a recipe book and bags of groceries and a vacuum, handing out orders to everyone who stood in the kitchen.

 

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