Capturing a Unicorn

by Eve Langlais

  Copyright © 2018/19, Eve Langlais

  Cover Dreams2Media © 2018/19

  Produced in Canada

  Published by Eve Langlais ~ www.EveLanglais.com

  eBook ISBN: 978 177 384 09 01

  Print ISBN: 978 177 384 09 18

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email, photocopying, and printing without permission in writing from the author.

  Introduction

  Will he betray or save the world’s only unicorn?

  A novelist and journalistic investigator, Oliver is on a mission to expose the secrets of a clinic that dared to perform illegal experiments on humans. Against all laws and morals, there are doctors making monsters, and it has to stop. Humanity itself is at stake, which is why he must destroy the knowledge of their creation and eliminate any living threats.

  Then Oliver meets Emma, a former patient, living within the ruins of the clinic. She’s sweet and gentle, pretty, too—despite the horn projecting from her forehead.

  It seems Oliver has found one of the monsters, and she’s like nothing he imagined. Will he go through with his plan to eradicate those changed by Chimera’s secret, or save Emma for love?

  Prologue

  The sleeping drug wore off and Emma awoke in a helicopter. Which wasn’t exactly a normal kind of thing for her.

  Most times, she woke in a bed with a pillow under her head. On a few rare occasions, she woke up on the floor, cold and wet, as if doused while she slept. Her clothes missing. The faint hint of copper, the tangy blood kind, hanging in the air. Her head shorn down to the scalp.

  Despite the heavy drugged feeling, she didn’t smell violence—only a bit of body odor not her own—garlic from a meal too heavily doused with it, and oil, the kind that permeated machines that received regular maintenance.

  The chopper was airborne. It vibrated and made a hellishly loud noise, and she didn’t wear anything to muffle it. Bare ears didn’t mean she heard much. No one spoke; however, she got the impression she wasn’t alone.

  Emma kept her head ducked while she gauged the situation. It helped that her hair hung in her face, hiding any tics that might have given away the fact she was awake. She’d prefer not to get jabbed with a needle or gassed—again. Especially since she had no idea what had happened.

  Where are they taking me?

  Last thing Emma recalled, she was reading in her room—a decent-sized space with a bed, television, and her own bathroom. She was one of the luckier patients. Or, as Dr. Sphinx used to tell her, “You’re a good girl, Emma.” And good girls got treats. For example, a well-behaved patient might be rewarded with a decent room and amenities—like hot water and coconut pudding pie.

  What of the bad ones, the patients who just loved to rebel against authority? Those that survived their illness and treatment and got temperamental about their second lease on life got to live in tiny cells and eat flavorless gruel. Or so Emma had heard via the grapevine. She never saw or experienced it herself. Emma wasn’t the type to rock her comfy boat.

  Which begged the question, why did they knock her out and decide to move her? It wasn’t just Dr. Sphinx that reassured her she would always have a home at the Chimaeram Clinic. Dr. Chimera himself, the man who saved her life, promised she didn’t ever have to go anywhere. “You can stay here as long as you need, Emma. We’re your family now.”

  What had changed? Did this have to do with the sirens? The strident shriek of warning, abrupt and much too loud, had sent Emma to her knees, hands over her ears, rocking at the pain of it. Shaking in terror. She didn’t handle change very well. Didn’t handle much well at all.

  Her life seemed to be a never-ending symphony of tragedies. She didn’t want to be a perpetual victim, but bad things kept happening to her.

  The blaring siren ended as abruptly as it began. No warning. No explanation provided via the speaker in her ceiling. As a matter of fact, not a single person came by to tell Emma what was happening. Then again, why would they? She was simply a patient on level five who chose to remain hidden from the world.

  Probably the only patient of Dr. Chimera’s that welcomed the lock on her door. Locks kept out the monsters that liked to creep in the dead of night, place their hands over a mouth, and whisper, “Stay still and this won’t hurt.”

  What a lie that was. But for a long time, she believed it, accepted the abuse as her due. The psychiatrist who treated her in the clinic taught her to accept that nothing in her past was her fault. That she could control her future.

  If that were the case, then why did she sit in a helicopter, flitting away from the place she called home?

  They could have asked me if I wanted to go. They didn’t have to drug her.

  Unless it was an emergency and they didn’t have time. Maybe related to the sirens. Could be a mass evacuation. Still, they could have warned her before filling her room with gas.

  She must have hit the floor hard because her jaw ached. But she knew it wouldn’t last long. Injuries rarely concerned her anymore. Such a change from a few years ago.

  I used to bruise easily as a peach. The mottled patches on her skin a rainbow of color in varying degrees. Or, as Tommy used to say, “You’re like a canvas for my fists.” And he liked painting. It was a relief when they threw him in jail for robbing a gas station.

  The sad part was her next boyfriend didn’t prove any better. But that was a long time ago. The bruises were gone now, and they wouldn’t be coming back. The clinic kept her safe. Hid her from a cruel world.

  And she wasn’t the only one.

  She heard a grunt amidst the chopper noise and almost lifted her head to peek. In the interest of feigning sleep while she gauged the situation, she chose to glance through the hunks of hair falling in her face.

  Across from Emma sat another patient. A man, not one she’d ever met. Not exactly surprising since she only ever saw the nurses who checked on her, the occasional guard, and the doctors—which was how she liked it since her unfortunate side effect to the therapy.

  I don’t want anyone to see me like this. To stare at her and point. Some would surely mock. Others might pity. What they would never understand was she welcomed the change in her body because it was the price she paid to live. Enjoying a long pain-free life, even a quiet, secluded one, was preferable to the alternative.

  Besides, Dr. Sphinx had assured her that Dr. Chimera was working hard to reverse her deformity. Not that she was in a rush. She would prefer to never leave the clinic. She’d never had it so easy. So good. Three meals a day. A bed. A hot shower, and no one raising a fist if she said no.

  She’d suffer a hundred more side effects if it meant being safe.

  The man across from her uttered another noise, and she glanced surreptitiously again. Noticed how his chest heaved underneath the pale green smock he wore with matching pants. The garb of a patient. Doctors always wore slacks with a button shirt and tie, white coat layered over top. Nurses wore funny little caps with a red cross in the middle. Guards wore black.

  As a patient, yet a special one, Emma wore a pink tracksuit. The big wooly sweater in rainbow colors tucked around her, a present from Dr. Sphinx.

  A subtle wiggle on her toes showed someone had placed socks on her feet, which was nice. Nothing worse than cold toes. Especially on concrete. It was why Sphinx had a carpet bought for her. Bright
pink and shaggy. She loved curling her toes in the texture.

  Would she ever see that rug again?

  “Whazz happening?” slurred the fellow across from her.

  “Sssshhh.” The whispered suggestion from her left held a sibilant hiss.

  Her head twitched as she shifted to look, only to freeze as the man next to her muttered, “Don’t move.”

  The very fact he noticed halted all further motion.

  Awareness prickled her skin. Warned her of danger. It hung in the air, a promise of impending violence.

  The man across from her must have felt it, because his agitation grew. “They promised no more chains. Said they’d leave me alone. Let me go.” He began to breathe hard. Harsh—huh, huh, huh—hot puffs of air.

  Funny how hearing it made her own breathing stutter a bit. Panic was contagious.

  She kept an eye on the guy, worried about him, especially since his cheeks turned a mottled red. He gazed about with frantic anxiety. She could almost taste his growing panic as he strained at the straps holding him in place. The sturdy canvas wound around his body, the arms encased inside a straightjacket. A precaution lest the fellow try to escape.

  Emma didn’t have the same constriction and wore only a regular safety harness. A glance at her lap showed it buckled in the front. She appreciated the trust. Dr. Sphinx knew she’d never try and run.

  “Dude, calm down. You don’t want them to notice,” the guy beside her murmured.

  “Fuck you and fuck them,” snapped the brutish man, pushing again at the ties holding him.

  As feared, it drew attention.

  “I told them one dose wasn’t enough.”

  Emma knew that voice. Dr. Sphinx! If he were here, then she knew she’d be all right. She was his special girl. He brought her treats all the time. Not just candy but books, and he made sure she could watch all the newest movies. She regarded him as the benevolent father she never had. The real one left, and then that woman who birthed her had a string of boyfriends. Not all of them were nice. Shoving Darryl down those stairs was worth the two years Emma had to spend in juvenile detention.

  But her life was better now. All the Darryls were gone from her life. She had finally reached a Zen place, and Dr. Sphinx was part of that reason.

  Emma raised her head and saw his familiar stocky shape standing in the aisle between the jump seats. The military-style chopper didn’t possess regular benches. Most of the time, it was used to run big crates of supplies. But it could handle passengers. The walls held fold-down squares of plastic for the butt, not exactly comfortable. Especially if you could not scratch an itchy nose like the guy in front of her.

  There were several other patients in the chopper with her. At least five across from her, wearing straitjackets and buckled into their seats. A glance to her left and right showed the same number in her row, along with a few guards. They sat on opposite sides from the cockpit, rifles at the ready. As if they’d shoot in such close confines. But then again, maybe they would if panicked enough. After all, scared people did desperate things.

  It was the excuse she gave the judge when asked why she hit Lonny with his own car. It was reversing it over him that got her a year in jail.

  Emma knew what fear felt and looked like. She saw it in the nurse who unbuckled from the harness with fumbling hands, knocking her silly white cap with its red cross askew.

  Nurse Gretchen—not the nicest of them but not the meanest either—spilled onto her knees and hauled out a chest tucked under her seat. The metal buckles on it snapped, each twang only causing the angry man in front of her to curse louder.

  “Fuckingwhorecocksucking—"

  The angry words streamed right past her. Emma had learned to filter most profane speech at an early age. She was more interested in the situation around her. Sphinx stood waiting and watching the nurse, whose fear and panic perfumed the air.

  It triggered a familiar weakness in Emma that began with trembling limbs and shallow breathing.

  Huh-huh-huh.

  Not now. She couldn’t afford to black out. She glanced elsewhere, noting a few of the patients were awake or no longer faking sleep. There was a woman beside the cursing man, her Asian features smooth, almost ageless, and yet her expression appeared old. Her eyes pure white. It wouldn’t have surprised Emma if she opened her mouth and exhaled a ghostly mist.

  On the other side of the angry dude, another body stirred, or so it seemed given the ripple of hair. The very long strands proved lush and thick, covering the owner from head to toe, much like Cousin It in the Addams Family.

  The nurse offered the ready needle to the doctor.

  “Thank you. Prepare a few more, would you. It seems some of our friends have been playing possum.”

  The angry fellow glared and spat. “Don’t you fucking come near me with that thing.”

  “It will calm you down, Barry.”

  “I don’t want to be fucking calm, asshole. Remove these fucking straps.”

  Sphinx shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. They’re for the safety of the passengers on board.”

  “I’m not a psycho.”

  “Are you really going to try that lie, Barry?” Sphinx said with a sneer that took her by surprise. “What do you call what happened to that guard?”

  The brutish-looking fellow with the deep sloping forehead bared uncharacteristically long sharp teeth in a grin as he said, “I call him delicious. You should try human tartar sometime.”

  Her stomach heaved as the meaning filtered to her brain. She couldn’t stand meat of any kind. Not even a well-cooked burger.

  She wasn’t the only one disgusted. A woman to her right murmured, “Gross.”

  “Don’t mock it ‘til you try it, honey. If you want, I’ll save the doctor’s heart for you when I tear it from his chest,” Barry offered with an evil grin.

  “And this is why you should have been left behind with the other irredeemables,” Dr. Sphinx muttered.

  “What do you mean left behind? What’s going on? Where are we going?” asked the man beside her.

  “Always asking questions, eh, Jacob?” Sphinx held up the needle and tapped the glass vial. A solid dose of Special Sleeping K. More potent than the darts they used in their guns. More evenly applied than the gas. One prick and the person could be out for days.

  “Better asking late than never. You might think we’re dumb, but some of us did learn after our shit deal with Lowry.” Mr. Lowry being the clinic’s lawyer. He usually handled the contract aspect of accepting the clinical trial treatments. Problem being he was a lawyer who used legalese. Most didn’t grasp what they signed away.

  Emma did. She just didn’t care.

  “Always whining instead of thankful for the chance you got.” Sphinx shook his head, a benevolent father chastising a son—but the cruel hint of mockery around his lips sent a chill down her spine.

  “You’re dodging instead of answering. What’s going on?” asked Jacob.

  “Nothing to hide. Count yourselves as the lucky ones. You’re ten of less than two dozen we’ve chosen to keep.”

  “Keep? We’re not things you can own,” the woman to her left with the lightly tanned complexion exclaimed.

  “Actually, Janice, according to the terms of your contract, we do. It is up to us to decide if you are fit to be released into the general population again.”

  “You’re the one who isn’t fit,” spat Janice. “You’re a foul excuse for person.”

  “Insulting the one in charge of your fate.” Sphinx tsked. “Not the brightest thing you could do. You really should be nicer to me, Janice.”

  Emma gaped as she listened. Who was this cold and mean Sphinx? What happened to the father figure she knew?

  “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to defuse the situation.

  Sphinx glanced her way and offered a warm smile. “Emma, I didn’t know you were awake.”

  “Sorry.”

  The doctor’s smile widened. “Don’t be. I
’m glad. Maybe you can talk some sense into your seatmates.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be cooperative once we know what’s happening. They’re just scared.” Did their hearts hammer in their chests? Did something inside them stir, something cold and demanding?

  A snort blew from Barry. “Scared my ass. More like pissed. This wasn’t the deal. None of what they did to me was ever part of the deal.”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the others.

  “The Chimaeram Clinic saved us,” Emma reminded them.

  “It made me into a bigger prisoner than I was before I lost the use of my legs,” snapped Jacob.

  “They won’t let me talk to my family,” Janice huffed.

  “What evil was wrought in the deepest parts of the lair shall spill on the world and cause utmost despair.” No surprise, the melodic words came from the freaky-eyed lady who still appeared much too calm.

  “Keep your prophecies to yourself, Xiu,” Sphinx spat.

  “Or what?” Xiu, for all her white orbs appeared unseeing, stared in his direction. “You won’t punish me. You can’t.” Her lips split into a wide smile. “Because you’ll soon be dead.”

  For some reason Sphinx appeared quite discomfited by her statement. He glanced at the nurse. “Put her out first before she opens her mouth again.”

  The nervous nurse took back the needle, and her hand shook as she approached Xiu.

  “Leave her alone,” shouted Barry, heaving once more at the straightjacket.

  “Him next,” Sphinx replied rather than rescind the order.

  “You’re a real piece of work,” spat Jacob. “Drugging people who are helpless. Doing unspeakable shit. You need someone to rein you in.”

  “And who would you suggest oversee our work?” Sphinx queried. “How does one moderate something experimental?”

  The nurse pulled out the depleted needle and went to exchange it for another. Xiu’s chin touched her chest, out cold, but Emma found it hard to completely forget what she’d said.

  “When I get out of this contraption, I’m coming for you, asshole, and I’m going to make you watch as I eat your lying tongue,” growled Barry.