Secret of the Unicorn (Avalon: Web of Magic #4) (8 page)

Emily was stunned.

“Wait!” she cried desperately. The creature couldn’t run away again—not now that she’d finally seen her!

The horse suddenly reappeared at the far end of the clearing. She was gazing at Emily suspiciously, flanks heaving, breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Her coat was now a bright shade of reddish-yellow. Emily felt waves of fear emanate from the creature.

“Storm, she’s afraid of you,” Emily realized. “Stay in the woods for a minute. I’ll call if I need you.”

The mistwolf hesitated, then nodded. “
Be careful.
” She melted back into the forest.

“It’s okay,” Emily whispered. She could feel pain and apprehension sweeping toward her. “I won’t hurt you.”

As she spoke, the creature’s coat shifted to a shimmering pale aqua, then to a rusty orange, then to a swirl of deep blue, before paling again and changing to a radiant red. That was one mystery solved, Emily realized. They hadn’t been following a herd of different-colored creatures after all—just one that changed color from moment to moment.

She stepped forward cautiously, her gaze fixed on the angry burns. The closer she got, the worse they looked. Her stomach churned. How had this wounded horse even survived this long?

“Easy,” Emily murmured. The animal raised her head and danced backward, her coat flashing reddish-purple. The healer forced herself to stand still and wait until the creature settled down again. “It’s okay. I want to help.”

The horse didn’t run away, but she didn’t come any closer, either. Emily bit her lip. Now what?

Patience
. She heard her mother’s voice inside her head.
Patience is the number one rule when you’re dealing with animals. The number two and number three rules, too
.

Emily knew that. But it wasn’t easy to stand there doing nothing when the creature in front of her was wracked with pain that only seemed to grow with every passing moment.

She told herself to remain calm. Freaking out wasn’t going to help. The animal’s gaze met her own, and in the soft greenish-gold eyes Emily could see the intense fear.

She took a step forward. The horse tensed and took a quick step back. Emily sighed and retreated. Then the animal stepped forward, gold-tipped ears pricked toward the girl.

“It’s okay,” Emily said, and the creature jumped in surprise.

This wasn’t working. Emily decided to try communicating in a different way.

She tried to fill her mind with soothing images. “
I’m your friend. I want to help you.”

The animal cocked her head, staring at Emily suspiciously. There was a sudden blare of that jarring noise and a jumble of feelings.

Emily waited. Her hands were twitching, wanting to touch the animal and try to heal her wounds. But she knew that wouldn’t happen unless she could win her trust.

Pain. Fear and pain. Notes, emerging suddenly out of the white noise.

Emily listened. Was that—?

She shook her head. She had to be imagining things, didn’t she? She couldn’t possibly be hearing what she thought she’d just heard.

Without quite knowing why, she hummed the first few notes of “her” song.

The horse stood stock-still and raised her head, and for a moment Emily was afraid she’d scared her again. Then the confusion of noise in her head cleared for a second—and echoed the same notes back to her!

Emily gasped. “You heard me!” she exclaimed out loud. “You understood!”

The horse repeated the first few notes—all at once—but the tune got lost in the chaos of white noise and jangled chords. Then she lowered her graceful head and let out a low, sad whine.

Emily pointed to herself. “I’m Emily.”

She focused her thoughts again. “
What’s your name?”
she asked.

Another burst of static. Then—a single word.

“
Lorelei
.” The voice coming from the animal’s mind was feminine and musical-sounding.

“Lorelei,” Emily whispered. Was that her name or the name of a kind of creature, like a quiffle or a flobbin? She had no way of knowing, but somehow she was certain that it was the former. So then what
was
Lorelei?

She shook that question away. The important thing now was to stay connected so she could get close enough to heal Lorelei’s wounds.

Taking another step forward, Emily held her breath. The creature gazed at her. Fluctuating, uncertain feelings flashed in the greenish-gold eyes—doubt, suspicion, worry—but Emily kept her own gaze steady.

Patience. Patience. Let her feel your good intentions, she told herself.

The creature stared back. A few notes danced through Emily’s head, and she felt a shock go through her, like being struck by lightning. Through the shock she was aware that a connection had been made, a bond that was almost frightening in its intensity. What it meant, she didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure how much longer it was before she took another step forward, and another. Each time, she stopped the moment she sensed Lorelei tensing up and preparing to retreat. Each time, she waited for the animal’s eyes to calm before moving again.

Finally, they were standing only two feet apart. “All right,” Emily murmured, trying not to look at the angry burns that seemed to swallow up her body. “Now it’s up to you, Lorelei.”

For several long, breathless moments, nothing happened. Girl and magic horse stood and stared at each other. The only thing that changed was the rainbow jewel at Emily’s wrist, which cycled steadily—blue, gold, scarlet, indigo.

Emily waited. She could feel herself aching with the agonizing burn of the Black Fire. It was hard to stand there and look at the terrible wounds—hard to stand there and not rush to help. But somehow she knew there was no other way. Finally, Lorelei trembled and took a small, cautious step forward.

That was enough. Emily slowly reached forward and touched the animal on the shoulder. . .

Instantly, the forest tilted at a crazy angle and dropped away. And she heard it again, that dreadful noise blaring, screaming, frantic—the gleaming edge of steel flashed, cutting through flesh and bone.

Emily cried out and tried to pull her hand away. But she couldn’t move.
Focus! Focus!

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to make sense of what she was doing. She had to concentrate on the healing. That’s why she was here.

Then one tone leaped out at her, and she locked onto it. A note. One pure note in the pandemonium. It came again, deep and resonant. Her own heartbeat. It slowed and steadied as she suddenly became aware of another heartbeat matching her own, pulsing raggedly but strongly. An image of Lorelei danced in front of her, her wounded coat bathed in a swirling white light, familiar and yet—what was it? What was different about her? Emily shuddered as her focus wavered. . .

The Black Fire was stronger than she had ever encountered before. Was Emily strong enough to fight it? She didn’t dare think about it. Instead, she focused on the matched heartbeats and on the melody that rose up to mingle and harmonize with them, growing louder and stronger with each beat. It was a familiar melody and Emily found herself listening eagerly, aching to hear the last few notes that would make the song complete.

“What are you?” Emily asked.

Images of a pristine snowfall drifted into Emily’s mind.

“I don’t understand.” She tried to reach deeper.

A family—mother, father, and three little ones—running, racing strong and sure along a golden thread of stars. Each of the creatures had a crystalline horn at the center of its foreheads. Sparkling trails of magic spiraled into looping patterns and the music they made was heart-wrenching in its beauty.

Emily was awed.

The image burst apart with a blare of harsh, staticky noise. The wild sound picked her up and she was carried forward, her heart racing crazily and her lungs gasping for breath.

“No!” she cried desperately. She felt the connection rupture, and her eyes flew open. Lorelei was springing away, her eyes wide and rolling with fright. “Wait!” But it was too late. The creature leaped into the air and vanished.

“
Healer!
”

Storm’s urgent voice exploded inside her head, and Emily whirled around to see the mistwolf racing toward her, lips drawn back in a threatening snarl.

“No!” Emily cried, falling to her knees. She felt overwhelmed by despair—she had come so close, only to be wrenched back at the wrong moment. “Storm, no!”

Stormbringer skidded to a stop in front of her and let out a low growl. “
Did you not sense the danger?
”

Emily blinked, not sure at first what the mistwolf was talking about. Then she glanced around.

The ground was littered with branches, leaves, and other debris. Several large boulders were scattered about like a giant’s game of billiards. Furrows of fresh dirt crisscrossed the clearing, like gashes in the earth itself. An enormous, ancient oak tree had been ripped up by its roots and lay at a crazy angle across the clearing—one huge bough only a few feet from the spot where Emily was crouched.

“Wha—when did this happen?” she gasped.

Storm was gazing at her intently. “
When the two of you connected.”
She didn’t bother to finish, merely shaking her shaggy head and glancing around at the destruction in the clearing.

Emily buried her face in her hands. What was happening? She thought she had made a connection with Lorelei. But at the last moment, the creature had given up, run away. Why? She shuddered as she remembered the hopelessness and fear and something else—shame.

The last image floated back into her mind, full-formed and clear. She looked up, her eyes widening as she realized for the first time what had been different about the creature.

“Storm,” she breathed. “I think I know what she is. Lorelei. She’s a—a unicorn!”

E
MILY POKED AT
her cereal, feeling fuzzy and out of sorts. She had slept poorly, tossing and turning as disturbing dreams flitted through her mind. Now her head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, her eyelids heavy. Her first waking thought had been of Lorelei, the unicorn. Could that really be what she was? The more she thought about it, the less certain she was. She and her friends had seen a unicorn before—Kara had even ridden one. That unicorn had been noble, confident, powerful. He hadn’t changed colors. He hadn’t made awful noises. He hadn’t been afraid of them.

And of course, he had also had a long, beautiful, crystalline horn.

Carolyn entered the kitchen, already dressed in her white lab coat.

“Mom? How important is a good attitude for your patients?” Emily asked, still thinking about Lorelei.

“What do you mean?” Carolyn headed straight for the coffee pot on the counter. “Like a good temperament? Is that Feltner dog giving you trouble again?”

“No, no.” Emily shook her head, frustrated. “I’m talking about healing. Getting better. How important is it for an animal to, you know,
want
to get better?”

Her mother finished pouring her coffee. “Well, animals don’t really want things the same way people do. And they’re not aware of the future like we are, either, so of course they can’t really foresee what it will be like to feel better. That’s why supportive care is so important while they’re recovering—pain medication, a peaceful environment, and so on.”

Emily sighed and rubbed her eyes. Her mother wasn’t getting it, and she wasn’t sure how else to explain it—especially since she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

Before Emily could try again, Carolyn walked over to the table and gazed down at her. “Speaking of a peaceful environment,” she said, “I was very disappointed when I stopped into the Pet Palace yesterday. The place was a mess.”

Emily winced, recalling the kibble explosion. She had done her best to sweep up, but she definitely hadn’t planned on her mother seeing the place until she’d cleaned the rest. “I know,” she said hurriedly. “I was going to clean that up when I got home.”

Carolyn lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?” she said. “That’s interesting, since as you may recall you didn’t get home until after seven. Not only did I have to take care of the afternoon feeding for you, but I had to help the Smiths pick up their dog.”