Unicorn Bait (10 page)

“Mr. Squibbles!”

It probably wasn’t even his real name. Mister, indeed. And what the heck was a squibble?

She stumbled on clutching her anger tight to keep her fear at bay. Thoughts of dead mice danced in her head. She didn’t abandon them until she realized the darkness up ahead was lightening from pitch black to moonlit. She quickened her pace and dashed out of the tunnel into a forested area.

“It took you long enough.”

She whirled around toward the mouse and felt her jaw drop. She had been ready to commit rodent-icide, but she had not figured on there being a witness, a large, snorting, long-legged witness.

“Where did you get the horse?”

“From the stable of course. Now do you want to get up here or gawp at the nice horse for the rest of the night?” 

She went up to the horse cautiously. When she reached his head, and let him sniff her hand, she realized it was actually Stomper. She rubbed his forehead and wondered how she was going to manage this. One riding lesson did not a horsewoman make. To her surprise, she realized the horse was bridled and saddled.

“Mr. Squibbles, did you have help?”

He sat between Stomper's ears, clutching strands of the horse's forelock. “What, you don’t think a mouse could saddle and bring a horse out here on his very own?”

“Who helped you?”

“Maybe a poor stable boy, who is more superstitious than wise, thought a ghost of a dead general told him to saddle and ready the horse, and maybe the dead general got the horse to come out here with a little animal speak, and you should thank the dead general.”

“Thank you, General. What are your orders, sir?”

“Get on the horse, Naomi. We’re wasting moonlight.”

She climbed up onto the horse with little grace, but luckily, Stomper was a very patient horse. She sat on his back uncomfortably and fiddled with the reins. Master Geoff had not let her hold them during her lesson. She didn’t know what to do with them.

Mr. Squibbles sighed. She got the feeling he would be doing that a lot during their little adventure. “Nudge the horse gently with your left heel and pull the right rein some to turn him around.”

She did as instructed, and Stomper slowly wheeled around. “Now nudge him again with both heels.” The horse began to trot through the woods.

“Can’t you use more animal speak to tell him what to do? I really have no feel for this,” she suggested. The small animal hunched his shoulders.

“Very well. If I’d known you were this helpless, I would’ve planned this a whole lot differently.”

“What would you have planned?”

“Not to have done this at all.”

They rode in relative silence. The mouse would occasionally chitter something to the horse to guide him, and Naomi would yawn. Dew began to set, and she felt clammy. The night seemed very surreal to her. They traveled through the forest following a dirt trail. The insect noises sounded off key to her, and the animals they would hear would make noises that sounded like wildlife calls put through a synthesizer. Stomper moved sedately, but she knew she would not have covered as much ground on her own. The further they went the more apprehensive she became. The forest grew denser, and the eerie wildlife noises increased. She began to worry about Umbreks.

“How much further?” she asked after they’d traveled for what she judged to be an hour.

The mouse didn’t answer.

“Mr. Squibbles?” She peered at the mouse sitting between Stomper’s ears.

“Um,” the mouse nervously laughed.

“What?”

“Well, you see, the house is around here somewhere…”

“You don’t know WHERE it is?”

His ears flattened. “I knew where it was, but she must’ve moved it.”

“What did she do, make it grow legs and have it walk away?”

“No, that would be silly. She couldn’t have gone far. She likes these woods. We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry, he says. We’ll find the magically moving house. It can’t have walked off too far. I hate this place.” She muttered. Stomper snorted in consolation.

“There, that light! It’s her. It has to be. Nobody else would live out here.” Mr. Squibbles said something to Stomper, and the horse sped up to a trot heading toward the light.

She didn’t let herself believe it. She sat stonily and kept her eyes firmly on the house. It could be a woodcutter’s cabin or a hunter’s lodge. She was already formulating a ruse to tell the owners when the house turned out to be some poor family’s home. She would claim to be lost, which was the truth, who had been set upon by Umbreks, several days old truth, trying to find her way back home. She realized she wouldn’t have to lie much at all.

When they reached the house, Mr. Squibbles leaped down from the horse before she could stop him.

“Agatha, get your wrinkly ass out here! I’ve brought her!”

“Mr. Squibbles!” Naomi exclaimed.

If the witch were home, she didn’t want to be hexed before she even reached the doorstep. The door to the cottage swung open, and an old hunched woman stood in the light. She raised a lantern up, and Naomi’s eyes met the dancing eyes of Agatha. Everything that she’d gone through came rushing up in her throat in one word. “You!”

Agatha’s smile widened into a toothy grin. “Welcome to my home.”

“Do you know how much trouble you put me in? I was forced to marry Tavik!”

“That was the plan.”

“Plan? I didn’t agree to any plan!”

“It was better that you didn’t know.”

She slid off Stomper and marched up to the witch. “You better be ready to tell me stuff. Stuff like how I can get home.”

“Come inside, and we’ll discuss it.” She held the door wide. Naomi looked inside and felt like the fly being invited in by the spider but shook off her misgivings and went in. She turned to look at Stomper. She wasn’t sure if she should tie him up or not. Before she could decide whether to go back outside, the door swung shut on its own.

“Have a seat, Naomi.”

The cottage was warm and cozy except for the random animal bones that hung from the ceiling. They added a certain deranged something to the place. Agatha settled down into a chair and motioned for her to take the other.

“So, Mr. Squibbles brought me…” Naomi said unsure of anything else. The mouse in question had darted off into the shadows of the room. Agatha picked up a long pipe and lit it with twig from the fire. She nodded her head as she puffed it.

“Yes, I said I’d send for you.”

“Is he really a mage trapped in mouse form?”

Agatha grinned around the pipe stem. “No, he’s my familiar. He thinks humans will take him more seriously if he tells them that he was once human.”

From the darkness, Mr. Squibbles voice floated out. “It’s because humans are ignorant speciests: Can’t accept that another animal might be as smart as or smarter than you.”

“I think you’re much smarter than me, Mr. Squibbles. So are you two going to help me?” Naomi asked.

To her amazement, Agatha blew out a plume of smoke in a long spiral. “Yes, I’m going to help you. You need a unicorn to get home. I’ll help you get one.”

“How?”

“Let me know one thing first. How committed are you to getting home?”

“Very committed. To the point I should be fitted for a straight jacket.”

The witch obviously didn't understand the reference, but Naomi's tone was convincing enough. “And you're not a virgin?”

She shook her head.

She sat back in her chair. “It would help matters if we had one.”

“I don’t suppose you know any?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “No, not personally. Not many virgins come my way.”

“Wooh, wooh, aiv noe.”

Both women turned in their seats. Mr. Squibbles came out with a piece of bread in his paws and his cheeks puffed full with food.

“Iaa loow fleuar un fis.”

“You do, do you?” Agatha said.

“What did he say?”

“He knows where we can find a virgin.”

“Where?”

“Fwavik.”

“What?” Naomi asked.

“He said Tavik.”

She didn’t understand. “Tavik is holding a virgin?”

“Nwo! Wit is Twavuk.”

“There’s a virgin with Tavik?”

“No, Fwavuk!”

“Huh?”

“My dear, the virgin is Tavik,” Agatha said.

Chapter 9

“Unicorns find humans irritating. The whole have to be a virgin thing is just an excuse to not have to talk to most of you.” --Mr. Squibbles

Naomi stared at the witch a moment and then began to giggle. “That’s ridiculous. Tavik isn’t a virgin. How could he be?”

Agatha’s eyebrows rose. “Slept with him have you?”

She hunched her shoulders. “No, we made a deal, but surely--“

“Squibbles’ nose is rarely wrong.”

“He can smell virgins?”

“Aund wyho cyan’t?”

“Well, what good is that going to do us? We can’t kidnap him and use him as unicorn bait!”

Agatha stared at her. She was grinning.

“You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m a witch.”

Naomi was getting a sinking feeling. She was very much not going to like this she was sure. “Come on, let's be serious.”

“You said you were committed.”

“Yes, but this is bat shit crazy. I’ve only gotten up to cuckoo on the loony scale.”

“Squibbles, I need you to get us back into the castle. We’re going war lord hunting.”

“No, this is absolutely insane. Do you know what he’ll do if he catches us? He’ll kill us! He may be a virgin, but he’s a homicidal virgin!”

“Who said we’re going to get caught?” the witch asked.

“How are you going to sneak around the castle? Tavik knows you, and I’m sure the servants do too.”

Agatha puffed on her pipe. The smoke started to settle around her thickly. Naomi got a skin crawling electrical feeling as she continued to draw on the pipe. The smoke increased and shrouded the witch. All she could see was a blurry outline, but it began to change. The electrical feeling increased. With a small thunderclap, the smoke dissipated, and in Agatha’s seat, there sat a black cat with yellow eyes.

“Do you think anyone will question your new pet?” Agatha asked from the cat’s body.

Naomi was really becoming uncomfortable with how comfortable she was getting with talking animals. “You just better hope Tavik isn’t allergic.”

“If we're to make it back before anyone notices Naomi’s gone, we better hurry,” Mr. Squibbles said having finally emptied his mouth.

Agatha jumped down from the chair. She meowed at the door, and it swung open for her. She waited in the doorway for Naomi to follow. She shook her head and rose. She was going back to the castle. If Stomper started talking to her on the way back, she would know she had gone completely mental and was probably in that straight jacket she'd mentioned earlier surrounded by nice padded walls.

She retrieved Stomper and climbed back onto the horse with less grace than before. Mr. Squibbles retook his place between the horse’s ears, and Agatha, the cat hopped into Naomi’s arms.

“You know black cats are bad luck,” she said.

“I certainly will be for Tavik,” the witch replied.

Mr. Squibbles said something to the horse, and the large steed turned and headed back to the castle.

They rode in silence through the woods. She felt odd holding her would be savior in her arms, especially as she had begun purring. To break the silence and reassure herself that she was with a witch and not just a cat, she cleared her throat and asked, “How exactly did you end up enemies with Tavik?”

The purring stopped, and the fur bristled on her back. “It's hard to say. We've always been at odds. He believes the only way to solve anything is with bloodshed and war. I've done all I can to limit that.”

“Like helping all the women and children escape from Harold's Pass?” Naomi said remembering her comments when they first met.

The cat nodded. “Yes, I just barely managed it this time. I'm getting too old to whisk away that many people in the dead of night.”

“Isn't there anyone to stand against him? Another lord or king or someone?”

“There used to be.”

“But they were worse,” Mr. Squibbles said.

“Worse?”

There was a low growl from Agatha. Mr. Squibbles looked back at them from his position on Stomper's head. “Don't try and argue it, Agatha. The rulers before Tavik were heartless. Yes, he creates strife and kills, but at least he doesn't torture and enslave like the others did.”

“He is merely the lesser evil. The key word to remember being evil.”

Hearing Tavik referred to as evil felt strange to her. Yes, he had scared her a number of times and had hurt her once, and she could be considered enslaved by being forced to become his wife and fill the role of Lady, but still there was something about him that made her balk at calling him evil. He'd allowed her to learn how to ride, he'd let her keep Yula as her servant, and he didn't lock her in her room. And there was their agreement. No sex. Why did he want to remain a virgin? He'd seemed interested enough that one time.

They arrived back at the entrance to the secret passage. Even knowing it was there, she couldn't tell where it was. The way the foliage grew and rocks formed, it was completely invisible. Mr. Squibbles stayed on Stomper when Naomi and Agatha dismounted. He would return the horse to the stable.

She crept cautiously back into the passage following the witch, but it was as dark as before. She moved slowly to avoid falling. She had no desire to add to the scabs on her knees and hands. Agatha, noticing her trouble, said a word and a spark of light formed that floated up to guide them. She grinned down at the cat. The idea that magic existed and could be useful was quite comforting to the twenty-first century girl. It meant things were possible. Hope was not a farfetched idea.

She worried about the wedged door of the secret passage, but another single word from Agatha closed it without a sound. There was no evidence any longer of her adventure except for a black cat. She shook her head. She knew that the mission they were on would not go as smoothly.

“Tell me, do you even have a plan?” she asked the cat as she climbed into bed.

“Something will come to me. Don’t worry.” Agatha closed her eyes and curled up at the foot of the bed.

Yula woke her far too early for her liking the next morning, but then, anything before noon would have been too early for her. She moaned and tried to burrow under the bed covers, but Yula began tugging on her feet to get her out of bed.

“What is so important that I have to be awake?” she asked from under her pillow.

“Breakfast, of course.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to cocoon herself in blankets, but Yula caught her arm and pulled her toward the breakfast table. “Did you not sleep well, milady?”

“I feel like I didn’t sleep at all,” she answered scrubbing at her eyes. She began to pick at her food.

“Do you wish to miss your lesson with Master Geoff?”

She chewed grimly on her food. “No, I wanted horse riding lessons. I shouldn’t shirk them after all the trouble everyone went to for me.” There was a meow from her feet. Agatha had followed her from the bed and looked clearly hungry. She began scraping eggs from her plate to another to share with her.

“Who is this?” Yula nodded down at the black cat.

“My new cat I guess. She came to my room last night and made herself quite at home.”

“And what name have you given her?” Yula crouched and extended her hand for Agatha to sniff. Naomi froze. They hadn’t discussed names. She couldn’t say Agatha obviously. Tavik would kill them both, and while Agatha may have nine lives, Naomi definitely only had one. “Kitty.”

Yula’s brow scrunched together. “Kitty?” She obviously didn’t think much of the name. Agatha meowed to distract her. Yula scratched under her chin, and Agatha raised her head to give her better access. The sight was slightly disturbing to Naomi. Her mind kept trying to picture the scene if Agatha were in her real form.

She went down to the stables feeling half human. She met Master Geoff and Stomper. The horse greeted her friendlily. She hoped the stable master didn’t pick up on their improved familiarity, but she needn’t have worried. Master Geoff looked to have been perturbed by something else prior to her arrival. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Is something wrong?”

The stable master smiled tightly at her. “Nothing to worry about, milady. Just someone played a grand joke on one of my stable boys. The poor lad is still scared half out of his wits due to it.”

She already knew what joke he was talking about but thought it prudent to inquire. “What happened?”

“Someone hid in the stables and told the boy he was a ghost and made him saddle Stomper here.”

“Oh, what a terrible prank.”

“Yes, I’m going to have to put a guard on the stables to keep it from happening again.” Naomi nodded. She wondered how they would get a horse the next time they needed one. Mr. Squibbles could not possibly trick a couple of grown men. She decided to push the worry from her mind and focused on her second riding lesson. Master Geoff noticed how much more comfortably she sat and complimented her on it. She accepted the praise as innocently as she could.

She returned from her lesson twice as tired as before, and she was beginning to feel sore from all of her riding. She hoped Yula would let her nap for the rest of the day. She was barely keeping her eyes opened as it was. Of course, napping was out of the question when she returned to her room. Tavik was sitting inside waiting for her. With a quirk of an eyebrow, she saw that Agatha was in his lap purring loudly as the war lord petted her.

“Tavik, welcome home,” she said stifling a yawn.

“How are your lessons?”

“Geoff has some hope of making a horsewoman of me yet. Are we having lunch together again?”

“No, I came to ask you something.”

The statement had the effect of a large espresso upon her. She blinked and waited for him to continue. “I found something very odd when I returned to my quarters.” She froze as her mind raced. Did the entrance of the secret passage not close properly?

She schooled her face to look blank. “What did you find?”

He nudged a pale pink candle that lay on the table. It was the one she’d cast aside when she entered the secret passage. She hadn’t paid it any mind at the time because she hadn’t thought she would be coming back and hadn’t thought about it when she and Agatha had returned.

Going for total ignorance, she asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

Tavik chuckled slightly. “I don’t have pink candles in my room, and none of the servants would use one of these. They are only used in your room.”

“Huh. Maybe a servant dropped it while cleaning your room?”

“You think that’s what happened?” he asked, clearly not buying her theory for a second.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Have a seat, Naomi.”

She was getting a bad feeling again. “I’m fine. I would rather stand, you know because of sitting on the horse.”

“Have a seat.”

She gulped and scooted over to the chair across from him. “How did your business go? Did everything go all right?”

“What did you hope to find in my bedchamber?”

Her face fell. He knew it’d been her. She was in trouble now. Agatha jumped down from Tavik’s lap and went over to her and began to brush up against her legs. She purred loudly. She figured the witch was trying to reassure her.

“I wasn’t looking for anything.”

“But you were in my bedchamber.”

What could she say? He already knew that she’d been in there. How could she divert him from what she had really been doing and still not get into trouble?

“I was scared. I missed you.”

He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. She couldn't tell if he believed her but continued on regardless. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve never been a lady or lived in a castle. It’s all so strange to me. I wanted to see you, but you weren't here so I went to your bedchamber as the next best thing. I’m sorry I invaded your privacy.” She hung her head in pretend shame.

“And if I had been here, what would you have done?” he asked quietly.

She bit her lip. Oh geez, she did not have any answer to that.

“You forced me into an agreement on our wedding day. You specifically said separate beds. Have you reconsidered that demand?”

Her eyes widened. That day at lunch, she may have had a momentary lust for the war lord, but she needed him to stay untouched. How had he stayed a virgin so long anyway?  She glanced at Agatha for any clue on how to proceed. Yellow eyes stared back at her without an ounce of help in them. She twisted the cloth of her skirt. Closing her eyes, she answered.

“No, the agreement stays. I’m better now. I won’t bother you ever again.”

“Don’t feel you have to keep the agreement on my account,” Tavik teased.

She lifted her eyes to glare at him. Things were just not adding up. He had agreed to separate beds when he had not really needed to. He had not wanted a wife in the first place. He was a virgin. If he hadn’t come onto her the other day, she would have thought he was a very suppressed gay man, but he had shown his interest in her clearly. What if the other day were an act? What if he were so deep in the closet that he didn’t know what he was? It almost made her feel sorry for him. Oh, the poor virgin gay war lord. Who was worse off than him? His wife.