The Cult of Unicorns (Penny White Book 2)

by Chrys Cymri

  I busied myself with the kettle, aware of the waiting silence of my brother and my Associate. ‘There’s a world which we can access from ours,’ I said as I threw teabags into a pot. ‘Their citizens have crossed over throughout history, sometimes on purpose, sometimes accidentally. My role is to help those who have come through.’

  ‘Gryphons and snails?’

  ‘And many other beings.’

  ‘Many others,’ Morey agreed, from his seat near her hand. ‘We are the source of many of your legends and folk tales.’

  ‘And you speak Welsh?.’

  ‘The language of heaven is the native tongue of Lloegyr,’ Morey explained.

  ‘And why couldn’t I see you to start with?’

  ‘It’s how the human mind works,’ I explained. ‘We’re good at ignoring what we think couldn't possibly exist. You’ll lose the Sight in about ten days unless you come into contact with another being from their world.’

  ‘Ah, that explains Morey.’ Rosie extended a finger, and to my surprise Morey lowered his head to allow her to give him a scratch. ‘You need someone to give you that reminder.’

  ‘He’s like my seeing eye dog,’ I agreed. ‘So, you believe me?’

  ‘Penny, you’re a trusted vicar and priest. You have an otherworldly snail in a tank, a gryphon in your kitchen, and there’s a dragon landing in your back garden. Of course I believe you.’

  ‘Dragon?’ Then I breathed, ‘Raven.’

  For the second time that day I hurried out the back door. Raven spread his wings wider as I approached. ‘The indisput--’

  ‘Insert adjectives later,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I need your help. I need you to take me to the unicorn herd.’

  Lids lowered over blue-green eyes. ‘This is an unwelcome change to my plans. Why should I want to visit unicorns?’

  ‘It’s Clyde. He was injured--’

  Raven drew back his head. ‘The snail shark? Why should I want to help a malwen siarc?’

  ‘His mother died at our feet,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Its parent tried to kill you,’ Raven retorted, ‘and then attacked my leg. Malwod siarc are vermin. Let it die.’ He shook his body, wings flapping against his sides. ‘Climb up. I have something very exciting to show you.’

  My throat had thickened, making it hard to speak. ‘You don’t care, do you?’

  ‘About a snail shark? No, I don’t.’

  ‘About me.’ I swallowed. ‘If you really cared about me, you’d want to help Clyde. Because he’s important to me.’

  ‘It’s vermin.’ He rustled his wings. ‘Climb up. The merpeople--’

  ‘Can live without me.’ I drew myself up to my full height, still far below Raven’s jaws. ‘And you can live without me. If you’re not going to help, you can just leave.’

  The red-rimmed nostrils fluttered. Raven studied me for a moment, his golden claws digging into the flattened grass. Then he growled, low and long. I stood my ground, my right hand curled around the knife in my pocket. The wings spread out, and he launched himself into the air, flinging clods of earth around my shoulders as he disappeared.

  Chapter Ten

  I shuffled back into the house. It was of little comfort to reflect that, even if Raven had taken me to the herd, there was no guarantee that a unicorn would have agreed to heal Clyde. Raven was only voicing a prejudice common to many citizens of Lloegyr.

  Rosie rose to her feet as I shut the door behind me. ‘Do you want me to stay?’

  ‘There’s nothing else we can do now.’ I rubbed at my eyes. ‘Except wait.’

  Her hand was warm on my arm. ‘I’ll draw up the baptism certificate and drop it round. I’ll leave you to decide how you enter this into the church register.’

  ‘Rosie.’ I took a moment to gather my thoughts. ‘You understand that you have to keep all this secret? We can’t let people find out about Lloegyr.’

  ‘What’s it like, over there?’

  Her question surprised me. ‘Very green. Lots of fields and forests. There aren’t many cities yet. They’re going through their own industrial and technological revolution.’

  ‘Another world, green and undeveloped,’ Rosie mused. ‘Of course I’ll keep this under my hat. Humans have already ruined one world. Can you imagine what we’d do to another?’

  ‘I’d rather not,’ Morey said. ‘I’m not impressed with what you’ve done to this one.’

  ‘Precisely.’ Rosie nodded to James, and he hurried to escort her to the front door.

  I wandered back to the tank. Clyde had again retreated into his shell. Was that a good sign? Surely he wouldn’t be tucked away if there were internal damage? I found myself chewing the side of a fingernail, a habit I’d broken many years ago.

  My iPhone vibrated in my pocket and the sound of the Doctor Who theme echoed through the kitchen. ‘Hi, Peter,’ I answered absentmindedly as I knelt down, trying to see if any part of Clyde were outside of his shell.

  ‘Hi, Penny. Just wanted to thank you for a great evening. I’m amazed my head is clear this morning, though. That whisky was something else.’

  ‘There’s more where that came from.’ My knees creaked against the kitchen tiles as I scooted around to the other side of the tank.

  ‘Penny? Is everything all right?’

  I forced myself to focus on our conversation. ‘No. Not really. A sparrowhawk grabbed Clyde this morning, and his shell was broken.’

  ‘You took him to a vet?’

  ‘Yes. She patched him up, but of course I couldn’t let her take an X-ray.’ I was fighting tears again. ‘I don’t know how badly he’s been injured.’

  There was a pause. Then Peter said, ‘I’m coming over. If that’s okay?’

  ‘Of course.’ I sniffled. ‘Is Taryn with you?’

  ‘She’s curled up on the sofa. Last night’s hunting tired her out.’

  Morey puffed up feathers in pride as I glanced at him. ‘Or someone tired her out.’

  ‘I don’t ask questions about my gryphon’s love life.’

  ‘I haven’t laid a talon on her,’ Morey protested.

  ‘On my way,’ Peter continued. ‘Just hold on until I get there. I have an idea that might work.’

  ‘Get some lunch,’ Morey urged me as I slid the phone away. ‘You didn’t even have breakfast.’

  I did my best to eat a cheese sandwich, although I felt far from hungry. After I’d washed it down with a glass of orange juice, I leaned back in my chair and met Morey’s eyes. ‘If he dies…’

  ‘I’ll kill every sparrowhawk in Northamptonshire,’ Morey said savagely. ‘Just to make sure I get the one that attacked him.’

  ‘I’m sure the Bible says that vengeance should be left to God.’

  ‘Romans 12:19,’ Morey agreed. ‘But sometimes God needs a little bit of help.’

  I tried to keep my tone as mild as possible. ‘I’d rather that you didn’t wipe out an entire bird population.’

  ‘Just pray that Clyde heals.’

  ‘And what do you think I’ve been doing?’

  He had the grace to duck his head in embarrassment.

  The doorbell rang. James had not returned to the kitchen, but I heard him greet Peter at the door. I took a few deep breaths, determined to pull myself together. I was not going to be the emotional female.

  Peter nodded to Morey and came over to the tank. ‘Oh, I can see where he’s been patched up. I did think we could take him to the Midlands Safari Park. They have an X-ray machine. But then I came up with something better.’

  He slipped a hand into his trouser pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief. ‘The unicorn horn?’ I asked.

  ‘Exactly.’ Peter uncurled the cloth, and we stared at the powder shining against the red. ‘Oh. It’s crumbled. What do we do, sprinkle it over him?’

  ‘Or try to get him to swallow it.’ I threw up my hands at Peter’s look. ‘I think he’s dying, Peter. I’ll try anything at this point.’

  James quietly retrieved a glass and went to the si
nk. ‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘Open a bottle of beer. Clyde likes beer.’

  A dash of Old Speckled Hen went into the glass. Peter slid the powder into the liquid, ensuring that none of it touched him. I swirled the concoction, then bent down to the tank. ‘Clyde. Clyde? Please come out.’

  For a long moment there was no movement. Then a single tentacle slid out from the shell. Clyde’s usual grey-brown skin was pale, and I was certain I could see a throb of pain. ‘Hurts.’

  ‘I know it hurts,’ I said gently. ‘But I have something to stop you hurting. You have to drink this.’

  ‘Out hurts.’

  ‘Clyde, please. Please, you need to drink this.’ I added, ‘It’s beer. Old Speckled Hen. One of your favourites.’

  ‘How did you know that?’ Morey asked.

  I glanced at the gryphon. ‘I know how many bottles I bring home from the supermarket. We need to talk about putting you on an allowance.’

  ‘Beer?’ Clyde slowly emerged. I bit my lower lip. He looked far too thin.

  ‘Great beer.’ I lowered the glass into the tank and tipped it towards him. ‘Go on, drink it up.’

  The snail extended his head. For a moment I feared that even a strong ale wouldn’t tempt him. But then he opened his jaws, and he pulled the liquid into his throat. His swallows were loud in the quiet kitchen. I don't think any of us were daring even to breathe.

  The beer was gone. I removed my hand from the tank. Clyde held still for a moment. Then he shuddered. Colour flooded back into his body. The shell shifted, cracking and creaking and then taking on a new, slightly elongated shape. His tentacles rose, eyespots shining. ‘Clyde?’ I asked hopefully. ‘How are you?’

  The snail rose up. And burst into song. “‘Hallelujah! Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!”’

  ‘What on earth is that?’ Peter asked.

  ‘I think it’s meant to be the “Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah,’ I said. ‘He’s trying to take the tenor line.’

  “‘Hallelujah! Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!”’ Clyde insisted.

  ‘I think we get the picture,’ Peter said drily.

  At Clyde’s flush of annoyance, I told him, ‘It was Peter that brought you the unicorn horn. You owe your life to him.’

  Clyde crawled up the side of the tank and perched on the edge, his eyespots staring at Peter. Then his jaws cracked open again. I groaned the moment he started singing, ‘“Neighbours.”’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘The theme song to Neighbours,’ I explained weakly. ‘He watches Australian soap operas.’

  Peter laughed. ‘I don’t think unicorn horn can cure that affliction.’

  I put out my hand. Clyde stopped singing and slid onto my palm. Not only did he look fully healed, his shell sparkled and his slime felt warm against my skin. I looked up at Peter. ‘Thank you. So much.’

  He shrugged. ‘What can I say? You seem very attached to the little slimeball.’

  Clyde’s eyespots swivelled towards me. He seemed to have picked up on the negative connotation of the term. I found myself saying, ‘Yes, I have.’ And the snail’s tentacles drooped. I suddenly had a flashback to a parent-teacher conference when James was nine years old and I had allowed a teacher to criticise his handwriting. A similar guilt burned in my throat.

  ‘Hungry,’ Clyde announced. I lowered my hand to the floor, allowing him to crawl off onto the tiles. As he zipped through the cat flap, Morey extended his wings to announce, ‘I’ll look after him.’ And he exited to reduce the wild bird population.

  Only then did I suddenly feel weak. Both Peter and James, to my eternal shame, lent a hand to guide me to a chair. I took several deep breaths. Then I looked up at Peter. ‘Powdered unicorn horn.’

  He took a seat. ‘It worked.’

  ‘And,’ I pointed out, ‘rhinos have been driven near to extinction because people believe that their horns will cure cancer.’

  Peter stared down at the handkerchief in his hand. Then he wadded it into a ball. ‘You think people would go through to Lloegyr to hunt unicorns?’

  ‘Of course they would.’

  James slid into another chair. ‘We can’t let that happen.’

  ‘Exactly.’ I stared glumly at the new scars Morey’s claws had left in my kitchen table. ‘Peter, those two people found dead. One had a field notebook on him. Do you think…?’

  ‘That they were exploring Lloegyr on behalf of some company? Who knows?’ He sighed. ‘It’s hard to keep track of who knows about our sister world and who doesn’t.’

  ‘We need to make it sound unbelievable,’ I decided. ‘So that anyone else who hears about Lloegyr just dismisses it.’

  Morey gave me a nod. ‘You’ve decided to speak to the TV producer.’

  ‘Yes.’ I pulled out my iPhone. ‘We need to do whatever we can to protect Lloegyr. Like Rosie said, humans have already destroyed one world. We can’t be allowed to ruin another.’

  <><><><><><>

  I glared at the man holding the penguin. Guests for the upcoming wedding stopped to stare, intrigued by the bird. ‘Martin, I told the bride very clearly, no penguin.’

  The mother of the bride drew herself up to full height, which was unfortunately several inches greater than my own. ‘This is Tanya’s big day, and this is what she wants.’

  ‘Tilly will be fine,’ the penguin man assured me. ‘She’s well trained. The best man pretends he’s forgotten the rings, and he comes down the aisle. My assistant puts Tilly down and she will follow the best man as he comes back. I’ll be ready at the front, so when she arrives I can put her on the table and remove the rings.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Vicar,’ said one of the ushers. ‘It’ll be a bit of fun, won’t it?’

  I looked up at the young man. ‘And who’s going to clean the poop off the carpet?’

  ‘I will,’ Martin assured me. ‘I have a special bottle of stuff which works like a charm.’

  A crowd was building up around us, and the penguin was beginning to look less comfortable. With extreme reluctance, I said, ‘I’ll allow it. But I expect you to clean up afterwards.’

  The bride’s mother gave me a satisfied nod. ‘Now, quick,’ she hissed at the man, ‘hide her before George sees the bird. It’s supposed to be a surprise.’

  Man and penguin hurried down into the church. I allowed myself a sigh and turned to deal with a woman stubbing her cigarette out on a gravestone. She pouted at me as I asked her to show some respect, then she hobbled away on her high heels.

  Laughter from the direction of the pub told me that the groom was finally going to make an appearance. I narrowed my eyes and studied his stride. Nice and steady. ‘How many?’ I asked as he came up to me.

  ‘Only the one pint, Vicar,’ he said. ‘Like you said, plenty of time to drink later.’

  ‘Please go inside and the verger will have you check the registers.’

  I checked my watch. Twenty minutes to go. The bellringers were already in their tower and the cheerful sound of the church’s five bells rang out across the village. No sign yet of the organist, which meant she was registering her protest at playing ‘Stairway to Heaven’ for the entry music. I was reminded of the old joke about the difference between an organist and a terrorist. You can negotiate with a terrorist.

  The sound of flapping wings made me wonder if Morey had decided to put in an appearance. I was less than pleased when I looked down to see a Barn owl seated on a gloved fist.

  ‘The best man is ready,’ the woman holding the owl told me cheerfully. ‘He’ll have a glove for Snowy to land on. Don’t worry, Snowy will fly back to me as soon as the rings have been removed. I’m Stacey, by the way.’

  I could feel the first throb of a headache. ‘Was this the groom’s idea?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He wanted to surprise Tanya.’

  ‘Snowy is more likely to surprise Tilly.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Tanya’s hired a penguin to deliver the rings.’

  The wo
man stared at me for a moment. ‘Well, this is interesting.’

  ‘You can say that.’ At that moment the organist hurried through the churchyard gate. I called Mary over. ‘Can you ask Holly to send the penguin man out to see me? But without the penguin.’

  Martin emerged a moment later. I stepped back to let the two bird people open negotiations. And I pulled out my iPhone to dial home. ‘Morey? Pick up, please, Morey.’

  A new voice activated phone rested on my study desk just for this reason. ‘I'm here.’

  ‘I could use your help at this wedding. There’s a penguin--’

  ‘I don’t speak penguin.’

  ‘And an owl. Just in case things get out of hand.’

  ‘Oh, I see, because I’m half bird you think I can do some owl whispering? That’s so broadminded of you, Black.’

  The use of my nickname only underlined the annoyance in his voice. ‘Not because you’re a gryphon. You can fly. And not be seen by anyone else.’

  ‘A penguin and an owl,’ he mused. ‘Actually, this could be quite fun. See you in two ticks.’

  I hung up, and wondered what the difference was between a gryphon and a terrorist.

  Stacey and Martin were smiling and nodding as I returned to them. ‘We’ve sorted it out,’ she said, one hand smoothing the owl. ‘Tilly will go first, and she’ll have the bride’s ring. Then I’ll send Snowy off to the best man with the groom’s ring.’

  I felt another throb in my head and wondered if I had time to fetch ibuprofen from my car. Or to find someone who had a hipflask. ‘Won’t the penguin be afraid of the owl?’

  ‘Shouldn’t be,’ Martin said. ‘But I’ll take her away before the owl sets off.’

  A good priest learns to lose gracefully. ‘Okay. See you inside.’

  Ten minutes to go. I changed into my cream cassock alb and lowered the white wedding stole around my neck. For a moment I touched the design sewn onto the stole, my fingers running around the wedding rings which were linked over a cross. And I prayed for the young couple, hoping, as I always did, that they could beat the statistics and remain married for the rest of their lives.