Playing with Fire: A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count)

by RJ Blain

  Was my talking that startling?

  The higher-ranked cop sighed, lifted his hand, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right. There’s only one talking, fire-breathing unicorn I know of, and she was kidnapped from New York last week. Eight days ago.”

  “Last week?” I squealed, lurching to my hooves and whinnying my alarm. “So long? Eight days? Where? Where?”

  How could it have been so long? My mind blanked as I struggled to account for so many days.

  “We’re in Vermont.”

  I paced in a circle, whinnied again, and bucked so the world could witness my fury. “Ver-mont!”

  Snorting smoke, I pawed at the sand and trembled with rage. I expected to lose a day or two due to the sedative, but the realization I’d been gone for eight days horrified me. What had happened to Quinn?

  Was Quinn all right?

  Officer Andrews gaped at me while the other cop pulled his cell from his pocket, dialed a number, and held it to his ear. “Request a copy of the Quinn file from the NYPD. We might have a hit. Can you confirm the key points about the woman taken from Chief Quinn’s suite? In particular, I want to know if there was any evidence of A+ transformative substances—”

  “D,” I corrected. “D grade pills, may-be ten? May-be more? No re-mem-ber count, new stash. A+++ vial pixie dust, may-be broke. I cer-tee-fied with CDC.”

  There. I covered my furry ass. Maybe I wouldn’t go to jail after all.

  “It seems I’m being corrected. D grade trans, a possible vial of pixie dust, A+++. That does explain a lot. Yes, the unicorn is talking to us and appears to be coherent. When she was brought to the stable, she was rather lethargic. She bordered on non-responsive when she stuck her head in one of my cruisers.”

  I pricked my ears forward and stood still. “You chee-fuh of po-leese?”

  “One moment, the unicorn is asking me a question. Yes, I’m the chief.”

  With a squeal, I tossed my head and stomped my hoof. “You bring me my chief, yes? Bring!”

  “And now she’s whinnying at me and demanding her chief. I’m assuming she means Chief Quinn, as she was in his hotel room.”

  Did they not know Quinn belonged to me? “Bring me Quinn. Mine. Mine. Bring. Bring my hus-band. Bring!”

  Again, the men gawked at me. The chief recovered first and cleared his throat. “When you’re getting information from the Quinn file, could you please inquire on Chief Quinn’s marital status? In particular, could you ask if he is married to a unicorn?”

  “You idiot. I human. Change back later. Call CDC. Pro-fess-ur Yale teach you proper care of u-nee-corn. You bring me my chief. Mine. No share. Mine.”

  The chief chuckled. “I’m being scolded by a unicorn, and she just called me an idiot.”

  “If you bring me my chief, I no call you idiot.” I thought it was a reasonable offer, but if he was going to start cooperating, I’d give him some helpful advice on the proper care of a unicorn. “You bring me meat, I no call you idiot. You bring me nay-palm snack, I like you a lot. Cee-four? I like gas-oh-leen. Yes, bring me food. Hun-gree.”

  “I can’t even make this shit up, but the unicorn is asking for meat, napalm, C4, and gasoline.”

  Satisfied the police chief understood my demands, I curled up in my hole, showed them my sharp, pointy teeth, and waited for them to cooperate.

  Due to its stable nature, the cops opted to feed me treats of C4 rolled into little balls, as anyone could handle the clay-like substance without risking accidental detonation. I doubted it would blow even if they dropped a piece directly onto the heat lamps. A CDC rep oversaw the explosives; I guessed he had brought about five delicious pounds.

  They used it as bribes to ensure my cooperation. One pound doled out in marble-sized pieces bought three vets enough time to do a head-to-hoof examination.

  It took another pound to convince me to allow them to shave off my fur so they could give me fifty-seven stitches. I ended up losing more than half my fur to remove bloodied mats. I resembled a poodle, and I wailed my dismay. A third pound of C4 bought four dog groomers enough time to finish the job so I looked like a nice poodle rather than a scraggly one.

  I voiced my anguish as low, quiet moans between offerings of C4.

  Without my precious fur to protect me, I froze whenever I strayed from the heat lamps.

  “Cruel,” I accused, huddling as close as I could to the lamps without knocking them over.

  The police chief, a middle-aged man who went by the name of Hollands, sighed. “You were covered in blood and needed stitches. You’re lucky you didn’t break your legs along with your ribs.

  Chief Hollands sounded a lot like my Quinn when he was irritated. “My chief. Where is he?”

  “He’s on his way, Mrs. Quinn. He should be here soon.”

  I pawed at the sand, arranged it around my hole to my liking, and curled inside. “Move lamp closer, please? Cold.”

  With the help of Officer Andrews, Chief Hollands moved the lamps closer until I had a blazing red shield cocooning me. “Your friend Professor Yale told me you’d have problems in this weather. He suggested we keep you talking until Chief Quinn arrives. If you go back to sleep, we will have a very difficult time waking you until we can get the temperature up—and shy of lighting a bonfire in here, he seems to think we won’t be able to get you warm enough using our lamps.”

  If the cop wanted me to talk, I could talk. I nosed the sand over my hooves and legs to keep them warm. “Audrey McGee did this. Turn me into poodle. Don’t want to be a poodle.”

  “Yes, we’re aware of Audrey McGee’s involvement in your kidnapping. She was spotted nearby the Plaza. I’m unable to share details with you at this point, but if you could fill me in on what you remember, it would be helpful.”

  “She work with in-cu-bus. He seemed drugged. In-cu-bus not in con-trol of fac-ul-tees.”

  “Take it from the top. Begin in the Plaza, please.”

  “Quinn’s cops bring us to Plaza. He talk to front desk. I go to room. I open door. Hear pop. Blue pow-dur in face. Lights go out. Woke in warehouse with gor-gon and in-cu-bus. Pan-eeked, ate pills. Vial may-be leak during pan-eek. I run. No want to be gor-gon bay-bee fac-tor-ee. I run. Hit trans-port. Sor-ree. I pay fix? I run. No see trans-port.”

  “The transport was equipped with a moose grill. It won. The grill will need replaced, but the transport was otherwise undamaged. The driver, a single woman in her early twenties, has expressed her appreciation over the situation.”

  Well, at least someone had enjoyed my nightmare. I sighed. “Trans-port won. I sad.”

  “Would another steak help?”

  I lifted my head. “I like steak.”

  Chief Hollands tossed me a raw t-bone, which I caught. It took a bit of work and several snorts to clean my foreleg of sand so I could use it to hold my snack while I gnawed through the bone and gulped down the meat.

  “If you’re anywhere near as high maintenance as a human, I’m amazed there’s a man alive capable of handling you.”

  “She’s worth it.”

  I squealed, dropped my half-eaten steak, launched out of my hole, and whirled so I could charge across the arena, skidding to a halt in front of Quinn. I rammed my head against his chest, careful to keep my horn away from him. “Quinn.”

  Huffing and pawing at the sand, I pressed as close as I could, staggering him back several steps. Quinn wrapped his arms around my head and neck, holding me close. “You look like a poodle. What have you done to my wife? Why does she look like a poodle? Damn it, Bailey. I’ve been worried sick.”

  I nuzzled his chest and lipped at his uniform. “Quinn.”

  Chief Hollands crossed the arena. “Hello, Chief Quinn. I’m Chief Hollands, Vermont State Police. Your wife needed stitches and has cracked and possibly broken a few ribs. Blood had matted her fur, so it was shaved. She had an unfortunate encounter with a transport. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Quinn, Quinn. I escape
all by my-self, but I run in front of trans-port. I stupid. Sor-ree. Room went pop. Lights go out. Sor-ree. But I escape all by my-self?”

  Quinn stroked my neck before lifting my head. After dropping a kiss on my nose, he smiled at me. “You sound so tired. You have nothing to be sorry about. Audrey does, and she’ll pay for taking you away from me.”

  I longed for my human body so I could rub up against Quinn and hold him close. I settled for draping my neck and head over his shoulder and holding him against my chest, careful to avoid stepping on him with my hooves. “Quinn.”

  “How many of your pills did you eat, Bailey?”

  I turned my ears back and lipped at the back of Quinn’s shirt. “All. I pan-eek, sor-ree. Ate all. I may-be break A+++ pixie dust vial, too. And beat in-cu-bus with a door, and stab him, and claw him. No want in-cu-bus, only you.”

  “You’re incredible. Did you really think I’d be angry with you about anything that may have happened?”

  Yes, I had. I did. I couldn’t bring myself to say a word, so I chewed a hole in his uniform.

  “Are you eating my uniform?”

  I grabbed a new piece and gave a tug. It ripped. I swallowed the evidence. “Nooooo.”

  “You’re eating my uniform. Bailey, you’re ridiculous. My uniform is not food.” Quinn laughed and patted my neck. “You didn’t hit the incubus hard enough. When I get you home, I’m going to ask Amanda to give you private self-defense lessons. Are you all right?”

  “All right now. You here.”

  A flash of gold light alarmed me into lifting my head. I spotted Sylvester on the far end of the arena, and he teleported closer. I squealed, pulled free of Quinn’s hold, and bolted across the arena. “Devil angel!”

  With his laughter chiming in my head, Quinn’s grandfather stalked me across the sand. “We must take you home safe, little granddaughter. Don’t run away. I must check on your health for my little grandson’s sake.”

  “No, you smite me.” I flattened my ears and backed away.

  My traitor husband doubled over laughing. “He’s not going to hurt you, Bailey. He came with me from New York. He insisted. Grandfather Xavier is taking care of some other matters.”

  “Which one Xavier?”

  Quinn sighed. “I didn’t introduce you by name, did I?”

  “No.” I kept backing away from Sylvester, displaying my teeth for the angel to admire. “You no smite me. Bad angel.”

  “I’m afraid to ask what’s going on,” Chief Hollands admitted.

  “Bailey is very sensitive to angels. Their song, their light, their halos—you name it, she’s weak to it. Bailey, he isn’t going to hurt you, I promise.”

  I didn’t believe him for a single instant. I stomped my hoof and kept retreating from his grandfather.

  “And Xavier?”

  “An incubus. Grandfather Archambault Quinn’s also here; he’s a former gorgon king. He’s off to grill one of the clan who lives in the area to see what he can find out about Audrey’s hive.”

  “And he’s your grandfather.”

  “Father’s side. My grandmother is my grandfather’s harem queen—his formal surrogate. They’re married. She’s a centaur.”

  Chief Hollands stared, his mouth hanging open.

  “Me feel same way, too, when I learned. No feel bad. His family? Is insane. This bad devil angel is from his mother’s side. Very bad devil angel. Bad. No smite me!”

  Sylvester laughed and cornered me despite my protests.

  “No smite me.”

  “You’ll live, I promise.”

  Damned angels.

  I came back to my senses as a human, wrapped in a blanket and cradled in Quinn’s arms. The soft murmur of voices included his, and I spent a while listening to his voice.

  After a few minutes of listening to him discuss cross-jurisdiction procedures and personal interest in a case, I decided it was too much work to make sense of the conversation. I blinked and winced at the throb in my head, which forced my to squint through my lashes. We were in an office on a couch, and I decided I liked my spot situated across Quinn’s lap with my head nestled against his chest. Snuggling closer, I made myself more comfortable and stifled a yawn.

  “Quinn?”

  The discussion halted. “Hey, Bailey.”

  “The angels keep smiting me. It’s not fair.” Although I slurred, I got the words out. My effort to grab Quinn’s shirt was thwarted by the blanket, which smelled like him and his cologne. I could get used to being held, but I missed the use of my hands. How could I rub his chest and reassure myself he was whole and healthy without the use of my hands?

  “I’m sorry he smote you, but it’s hard to hold you while you’re a unicorn. Grandfather offered to help. We discussed it on the way, and we thought it was wise to get you back into your human form as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, he needed to use his halo. With it, he was able to force you back into your proper body. You spent fifty minutes after that in a neutralizer bath. I refused to let them put you in a glass coffin. We vaccinated you to be safe, though. No one at the CDC knew what would happen with an overdose of those pills, so we may have gone overboard purging your system of it. Next time, take one. Not twelve, one.”

  Since I couldn’t free my hands, I rubbed my cheek against Quinn’s chest. “I’m sorry. I panicked. I didn’t want to be an incubus’s date.”

  He scowled at me, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Hey.”

  Smiling, I pulled up my knees to get closer to him. He hooked his arm under my legs and shifted me on his lap so my head rested beneath his chin.

  “I only want you.” I wanted to tell him I loved him, but the words stuck in my throat. He had come for me, and he had brought his insane grandfathers with him. Audrey had been wrong.

  Someone wanted me. Quinn wanted me. Quinn wanted me enough he sent his angel grandfather chasing after me so I could be human so he could hold me. I wasn’t alone.

  Audrey was wrong.

  Quinn kissed my hair. “I can live with that. How are you feeling?”

  “I think you gave me a headache talking about procedures. Do all police chiefs have couches in their offices? Oh. You’re Chief Hollands, right?” My struggle to sit up ended when Quinn wrapped his arms around me and pinned me to his chest.

  Okay. I could live with being trapped in his arms, no problem. If I never had to move, I could live with that, too.

  “Yes, I’m Chief Hollands. Your husband and I were just reviewing the situation and trying to come to an agreement over which departments would handle which parts of the investigation. I think we’ve agreed the Vermont State Police will handle the primary investigation with the cooperation of the NYPD. I don’t think your husband’s very happy with this.”

  “Of course not. He’s a control freak and a busy body.”

  My mouth kept getting me into trouble. Quinn’s laughter rumbled in his chest. “I can’t say she’s wrong.”

  “Tell me what happened. I’m missing eight days.” I hated the waver in my voice.

  Quinn squeezed me, dropping another kiss on top of my head. “It’s all right, Bailey. Nothing is your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I should have been with you.”

  “Oh, yes. You should have been with me so you could be easy pickings. Door went pop, lights went out. Your lights would have gone out, too.”

  Quinn sighed. “Damon, you have your notepad ready? I’m not going to want to go over this twice tonight.”

  “Notepad and recorder are ready. Give me the whole story so we can put an end to this bullshit.”

  The thought of two police chiefs cursing and acting like bad boys made me giggle. “Today on Cops…”

  “Bailey, you’re ridiculous. You comfortable?”

  “Never better. Talk, talk. I want to know what happened.”

  Eight days had gone by in a blink from my perspective, and I couldn’t imagine what those days had been like for Quinn. I could guess; judging from the way he held me, he had no
interest in letting me go anytime soon. If I got my hands on Audrey, I’d wring her scrawny little neck before popping a transformative pill and trampling her into a fine paste so she’d be easy to scrape off the concrete and dispose of so no one would ever find her.

  “All right. It began several years ago.”

  Chief Hollands cleared his throat. “How many years ago?”

  Quinn sighed again. As the one used to asking the questions, I suspected he loathed the scrutiny he faced, forced to detail every moment with his unfaithful wife. “Six as of October. I have a rather mixed heritage, part of which is angelic. As a result, I’m incapable of remaining with a disloyal partner. I’ve been assured by my grandfather there are exceptions. Being influenced by an incubus is one of them. I’m incapable of remaining with an intentionally disloyal partner.”

  “Intent matters.”

  “Exactly. Due to my heritage, I knew Audrey was unfaithful. We’d been married for a little over three years when she started cheating on me, and it went on for a few months before I decided I needed to get out of the relationship. At this point, I’d known Bailey more by reputation than anything else. I first heard of her while she was studying for her CDC certification and knew she had a knack for finding things—or people. She often found them with disastrous consequences to the involved parties, something that had factored into my decision ask for her help. Of course, since the consequences often had legal ramifications, I knew more about her tendency to stir up trouble than she probably liked. I contacted her, gave her a camera, and asked her to check into Audrey’s activities.”

  I scowled at the memories. Quinn had been, as always, devastatingly handsome, adored by just about everyone, and so out of my league it hurt. How had my league changed to be his league? However it had happened, I wasn’t letting him get away. “Audrey was stupid. She thanked me for getting her out of a so-called terrible relationship.”

  Quinn shrugged. “I guess I asked her for the one thing she couldn’t give me.”

  “Her loyalty? Seriously? She needed to bang every guy on the block when she was married to the hottest man in Manhattan?”