Though it was doubtful that ancient, mythological hunting parties wore sneakers.
On the other side of the fence, the protesters’ camp came into view. With my unicorn-hunting senses at full tilt, the people running from tent to tent with their flashlights looked like sleepwalkers—ridiculously slow and clumsy.
It must have been one of them who’d sneaked onto the property and destroyed the electronics.
“You morons!” I shouted, though I doubted any of them spoke English. “You’re going to get yourselves killed!”
One of the men turned, and I recognized him from that morning. He stared at me, and unlike all the others, he did not seem awed by my speed, by the magic coursing through my body. He regarded me steadily, without curiosity, without surprise. Was this the idiot who’d smashed the power box?
“Did you hear me? “ I screamed.
“Behind you,” he replied calmly.
I whirled to see a unicorn charging out of the woods and straight at me, its movements masked by the jumble of the others’ terrified emotions. Its feet flew in slow motion—one step, two—galloping toward the boundary with no fear and no hesitation. It knew there’d be no resistance, no shock. And then it would leap over the fence and freedom, sweet freedom… .
I drew my knife. Stop, I commanded the unicorn in my head.
It rushed forward.
I pulled back my arm to throw. Stop!
It lowered its head, horn aimed at me, still running.
The knife flew from my hands.
The unicorn reared back on two legs, screaming, the knife stuck hard in her foreleg.
“Shhh,” I said, running to meet the wounded unicorn. It wasn’t a fatal blow, but an incision with an alicorn knife wouldn’t heal the way a regular wound would. Shhh, I repeated into her mind.
Miracle of miracles, the unicorn quieted and stopped rearing. She limped a few feet toward me, grunting softly, and I put my hand on her neck, patting softly to distract her as I pulled the knife from her flesh.
Her pain rocketed through both of us and we staggered together. I put my hand over the wound to try to stem the flow of blood. Had it been a mistake to remove the knife? Would she die of blood loss? I’d purposely tried to miss any vital parts.
There was a soft thump behind me and I spun around. The protester stood on the other side of the fence, pointing to a spot in the grass. I looked down.
A small plastic case with a red cross on the cover. A first aid kit. I raised my eyes to the protester, who touched his fingers to his brow, then turned and walked away.
I snatched up the case and returned to the einhorn, who was limping around on her bad leg.
“Hold still,” I said, and yanked out some absorbent pads and an elastic bandage. Now I was patching up a unicorn!
The unicorn stopped stumbling and remained calm.
“Ah, so now you listen like a zhi, huh? Is that all I have to do, threaten you with death?”
The unicorn looked at me with terror-filled eyes, but didn’t flinch when I touched her leg. Her thoughts radiated fear and pain and a sort of bafflement that, despite the fact I’d just stabbed her, I meant her no real harm.
“This is what happens when you try to make a break for it,” I explained to my little man-eating friend. Breaker nudged me with her nose.
I put pressure on the wound until the blood flow slowed, then got some gauze pads and packed them against the incision, wrapping tightly around the unicorn’s leg with the bandage. Short of stitches, this would be the best I could do. I fastened the bandage with metal clips, then put my hands lightly on the unicorn’s leg, bending and moving it to make sure that she couldn’t dislodge the bandage while running.
It was then that I felt them. Awe, rising like a giant bubble, growing to push out every other emotion: all the pain and the fear, and the curiosity, and the excitement engendered by the alarms. I raised my head and saw we were surrounded by a circle of unicorns. There were Stretch and Blotchy and Tongue and Fats, there was the angry one I’d seen the day I killed Jumps, and some other unicorns I had caught only glimpses of—old, young, healthy, starving, standing around me like pale ghosts in the moonlight, staring at me with their fathomless black eyes, their white bodies sleek and solid but for the dark, dead collars at each of their throats. Breaker’s blood felt sticky between my fingers and I balled my hands into fists at my side. The unicorns didn’t move, just stared at me as a group, as one. I felt tiny points of pressure at the edge of my mind, as if they were leaning into it, separated from actually hearing me, from actually communicating with me, by the thinnest membrane of misunderstanding and mistrust.
I took a deep breath and thought of everything soothing. Full bellies and quiet glades, grass cooled by evening dew and large shadowy dens beneath the roots of great trees. A moon that lit up the sky and meat still warm with the blood of a beating heart.
The unicorns came closer. They listened.
A mother’s fur, the scent of fire and flood, a caress from the hand of a hunter, her softly shadowed thoughts pushing all the fear from your brain …
As one, the unicorns bowed before me, touching their horns to the earth, and I released my hands. I was a goddess. I was Diana, the Huntress, the Mistress of the Animals.
One by one, the lights on their collars blinked back to life.
15
WHEREIN ASTRID TESTS THE LIMITS
Ispent the night in the enclosure, just to make sure there were no unexpected occurrences. Brandt brought me dry clothes and blankets and I huddled inside them, knees drawn up to my chest, staring across the electric boundary at the château and wondering what in the world had happened that night.
Who was I? Was I a unicorn hunter? Was I some kind of magical unicorn homing signal? Was I a horrible, faithless girl who was about to make out with my ex-boyfriend while my current boyfriend left messages on my voice mail? And if I was this last one, how was I planning to crawl my way back? Was I supposed to tell Giovanni what had happened—though nothing had, actually, happened? Was I supposed to just push it all out of my head? Was I supposed to never get near Brandt again? These were the types of things I’d probably know if I had any real experience with boys; if I hadn’t been living in a convent; if my only two relationships hadn’t been with boys whose lives I’d saved from the vicious killer unicorns I was responsible for drawing in to begin with.
Last night, Brandt had almost made sense to me. Being with him in my room, in the pool, it almost felt like the old days. Neither of us could ever go back, but he knew me well, an Astrid who’d never been a warrior, and he’d liked that girl enough to date her back home. And now that he knew me this way, he still seemed to like me. And he was up to his neck in my new world as well, graced with the same scars, working toward the same goal, in whatever weird way Gordian managed to find a use for him. Whenever I was lucky enough to get Giovanni on the phone, I listened to him talk about his life in New York: his classes and his friends and his all-night scavenger hunts. It seemed so alien from my world. And how could I bring up unicorns in that context?
How could I make him understand what it felt like to live here, among them? How could I tell him that I’d come to long for the scent of fire and flood, to reach out to the unicorns, to pry into their minds just to get a taste of the wildness that nothing, not even electric boundaries and razor-topped fences, could touch?
I could stand in the moonlight and make an entire pack of venomous monsters bow before me. How was I going to explain that to Giovanni? At best, he’d respond with a vague “cool,” or say he was proud of me, but not really understand what I meant. At worst …
I knew what the at-worst would be, because I felt it, too. At worst, he’d ask what kind of sad, sick individual I’d become to manipulate a bunch of weak, captive unicorns in that way. I was pretty much one step up from a lion tamer with a chair and a whip. These weren’t my pets, these weren’t zhi; they were wild. Even in captivity, they were the wildest animals I’d ever known, and
yet I was making them perform for me like dogs on leashes.
Because I could.
I curled myself into an even tighter ball.
In the dream, Bucephalus called to me in the voice of Giovanni. Somehow, with the sort of logic that only made sense in a dream, I knew it was Bucephalus who spoke, though it sounded like my boyfriend. He was angry, furious that I’d broken our end of the deal.
I wasn’t quite sure what deal he was talking about.
His anger pulsated through my mind, drawing me in like the flickering signal from a lighthouse. I was searching for him, stumbling through a tangled wood, my feet catching on roots and vines determined to stand in my way. Here and there I saw a flash of einhorn disappearing into the woods. Even they ran from the wrath of a karkadann. And yet, I drew closer.
Where are you! I called to him. Where have you been!
But he was too angry to respond.
The wood in the dream suddenly gave way to a clearing bathed in moonlight, and I stopped short in recognition. It was the garden outside the Borghese museum, the spot where I’d first kissed Giovanni. The place where I’d first met the karkadann.
Bucephalus was there, as massive and deadly as always. In the voice of Giovanni, he spoke. This is what you wanted.
No, it wasn’t. I tried to tell him, but he didn’t understand justice in human terms. He didn’t know how we did things today. Giant, three-thousand-year-old monsters could do as they pleased.
The karkadann stepped aside, and there, on the ground near his hooves, lay the body of a young man, his face bathed in blood.
It was Brandt.
The next thing I remember was the feeling of dew on my face and Isabeau’s voice in my ear.
“Astrid? Wake up. It’s morning and all the unicorns are safe.”
I blinked my eyes open and pushed myself off the ground on my elbow. There was a crick in my neck, and I could feel the grit of dirt on my cheek. Isabeau looked crisp and fresh in a starched suit, with pearls at her throat and her hair falling in a sleek black wave.
“Rise and shine, my unicorn hunter!” Isabeau laughed. “You are a dedicated employee, chère, but there is no reason to sleep in the dirt like a dog.”
I shoved myself to my feet, wincing at the stiffness in my body. “There was sabotage—”
Isabeau clucked her tongue. “I have heard all there was, and I shall be dealing with it. And I thank you for your service above and beyond the call of duty. Now, you should go inside and clean yourself up. You have class in the city today, no?”
I did, but man I was sore. All I wanted was a long soak and then maybe to nap in my real bed. I stretched.
She watched me trying to roll out my shoulders and shook her head, as if reading my thoughts. “Astrid, you do have class in the city today. I will have to insist upon it. Your injury has already put you behind on your studies. This job is important, but so is your education.”
This job was the only reason I was getting an education. If the unicorns had escaped last night, if they’d killed someone, then my being here would be proved utterly useless, and I’d have to leave it all. Leave my tutor and my gorgeous suite, leave the chemistry lab in Limoges and the herd of einhorns I was coming to know well. Leave Isabeau. Leave Brandt.
That last bit might not be a bad idea.
“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve been really outrageously good to me.”
“The only thing outrageous,” she replied, “is that you think such things are anything other than common human decency. I want to find the Remedy, but not at the expense of your safety or your future. You will have a life after your unicorn-hunting days are over, Astrid. I insist upon that, as well.”
I looked down, not sure of how to respond.
“Come, let’s get you cleaned up and dressed. A coffee, a pastry—you’ll feel much better.”
She put her arm around me and led me out of the enclosure and up toward the house. We parted at the stairs, but I still said nothing, and as I returned to my room and got in my gorgeous marble bath, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just been reprimanded by a parent.
Still, she was right. I’d missed a few classes after the unicorn had kicked me. It was time to get serious again.
Isabeau’s driver took me to Limoges, waited while I attended my lab sessions, then took me home and dropped me off in front of the château when I finished.
I began to head upstairs to change, when Jean-Jacques stopped me. “Mademoiselle, Madame Jaeger would like to see you in the garden.”
“Is something wrong with the fence again?” Had the power gone down while I’d been away? I about-faced and started rushing back down the stairs.
“No, no. She would like to show you something. And also, last night. I want to say, eh, merci, Mademoiselle. Je n’ai pas peur quand vous êtes ici” I do not fear the unicorns when you are here.
I smiled. “Merci, Jean-Jacques.”
Behind the house, on the green lawn that stretched between the greenhouse and the unicorn enclosure, Isabeau stood, a bow in her hands. “Astrid!” she called gaily, waving me over. There was a large target set up near the edge of the lawn and a sheaf of arrows in a brand-new quiver. “Surprise!”
I took the steps off the patio into the grass, the heels of my boots sinking into the turf.
“I know it is not the ancient bows you are used to,” she said, “but look!” She handed me the quiver. I pulled out one of the carbon arrow shafts, but instead of being tipped with a practice point or even a barbed alloy hunting point, I saw the telltale gray of a bone chip. Grace would drool over these. They were so much nicer than her homemade attempts.
“I had them made from the alicorn of one of the dead einhorns,” Isabeau exclaimed. “A weapons maker in Orleans. Aren’t they lovely?”
“Exquisite,” I said, tapping my finger lightly against the tip. Sharp. “You want me to use them? You want me to kill the whole herd?”
“No!” Isabeau looked shocked. “I want you to have practice. You haven’t used a bow since you’ve been here. I thought you might miss it. There are practice tips as well, see?” She pointed to a box holding extra points, fletching, and nocks. “And then, if you need to use the bow for real sometime, we have it here. You will not be restricted to your knife, as you were last night.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Isabeau frowned. “You don’t like them.”
“I do,” I said. “And you’re right, I have missed my archery.”
Isabeau stepped back. “Try it! I would love to see you shoot.”
I shrugged and screwed off the alicorn tips of several arrows, replacing them with practice points. Then I shouldered the bow and picked my way across the lawn until I’d reached the far edge. I took aim and fired. One, two, three arrows, directly into the center of the target. I shot four more into the cardinal points within the pencil-drawn lines of the outermost circle. Then I returned to Isabeau.
“Perhaps,” she said wryly, “you don’t need the practice after all.”
“The unicorns are right there,” I said. “I can shoot whatever you’d like.”
“I’m certain any university would like to have you on their archery team.”
“Yes, as long as they don’t mind keeping a zhi around as a team mascot.” Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. With all my experience, I was a pretty good shot even without the magic. “But thank you for the gift. They’re beautiful.” I fingered the box of alicorn points. “Actually, you know where these would really come in handy?”
“Bien sûr, Astrid. I have already sent a set to the Cloisters.”
I smiled.
“Holy crap, Astrid!” Brandt came dashing across the patio. “I saw you from my room. That was outrageous! Do it again!” Isabeau’s mouth formed a thin line. “She’s not a circus performer here to do tricks for you, Brandt.”
He ignored her. “Come on, Astrid.” He yanked the arrows out of the target. “Do a star pattern. Or a B. Can you write my name in arro
ws?” His blue eyes bright with anticipation, he held out the shafts.
“Enough, Brandt!” At the sound of Isabeau’s rebuke, Brandt’s hand dropped, his smile faded.
“Busted,” he whispered, then winked. He turned to face Isabeau. “You’re a real killjoy, you know that?”
“And you are a disobedient employee and a willful child.”
“A child, huh? Is that how you think of me, boss lady? Interesting. Never would have guessed that.”
“Enough,” she said coldly.
“Or is it really just that you think of her as a child?” Brandt cocked his thumb at me. “Your child.”
I clutched the gorgeous quiver, torn between running to Isabeau’s defense and wondering if Brandt had a point.
“I said enough.” Isabeau’s voice had turned dangerous, as icy as the time she’d told me never to let a man hit me.
“Brandt,” I said, “come on. Isabeau takes good care of both of us. You know she does. And of course we’re still children. She’s aware of that. That’s why she’s making sure we go to school and—” I reached out and touched his shoulder and he whirled to face me, his grin back, his eyes almost wild.
For a second I thought he was going to grab me, but he didn’t. He just stared at me in a way that sent a flush all the way into the toes of my new boots. “Hey, Astrid,” he said in a tone of false casualness. “You want to go swimming again later?”
I flushed deeper, and then, without waiting for an answer, he strode off.
A few moments of silence passed, stretched longer by the nearness of the einhorns in their enclosure. I could feel the way the wind twisted every leaf on the trees, could hear the elevated rate of Isabeau’s heartbeat. She was afraid.
I swallowed. “I’m not sure what just happened here.”
She shook her head and plastered on a smile. “It is nothing. An old argument between us. He does not like the restrictions I put in place as a condition of his continued employment. When we argue about them, we both become rather ill-tempered.”
“What restrictions?” I laughed. “He said that, too, but to me, living here’s been a breeze.”
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