Unicorn Bait (2 page)

“I want to go through the boxes first and make sure we’re not selling anything that we may want to keep.” Bobby looked like he wanted to argue, but he just set down the box that he was holding and took the box of dishes instead. He left to take it down to the front yard. Naomi began digging through more boxes.

She thought the footsteps she heard coming up the stairs belonged to Bobby returning for another box, but it was her mother who stuck her head in.

“What is taking so long?” She saw her answer. Naomi sat on the floor with crumpled newspaper around her and partially empty boxes.

“No,” her mother said the same way that Bobby had said earlier.

“But Mom, I want to keep something.”

Her mother looked at her with wry amusement. “Fine, but you can only keep three things. The rest has to go. Your father and I are already keeping a lot of stuff that your grandfather treasured. You can keep three mementos.” Naomi nodded. She knew her mother was just trying to keep her from weighing herself down with memories, but she wanted to keep a few reminders. Three would do.

Bobby came and took boxes as she was done with them. So many things were stamped with memories. Naomi didn't know what to choose. She finally settled on an old overcoat that Grandpa Harry had worn for years and had the smell of his cologne still on it. She would not wear it, but it would always be in her coat closet so that she could rub her face against it and smell him for years to come. Next, she decided on his ‘dressy’ cuff links. They were small garnets. She remembered him wearing them when she graduated from college. He had been so proud of her that day. The third and final piece was difficult to choose. She took longer and longer with each box. Bobby had begun to wait for her to pass him one, but finally, after digging through tens of boxes, she found one that looked as though it had been packed by Grandpa Harry. The cardboard was discolored and weak.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked Bobby, who stood leaning against the doorway.

“No.” He came to stand beside her.

She opened the box carefully and peered inside. “What is this stuff?” None of it was recognizable. She began to unpack it to see the items better.

“Oh gross,” she blurted and dropped one item. It was a shrunken head.

“Cool.” Bobby picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. She shuddered and looked warily back into the box. A necklace of animal teeth came next. Both siblings passed on it. The box contained snake skins, bird feathers, crystals, and at the bottom of the box, there was a glass case.

“What can this be?” She lifted it up. They both peered at it. The case was long and narrow and resting inside it appeared to be a bone.

“There’s a slip of paper taped to the bottom.” Bobby plucked it off. It was old and discolored like the box. “It says ‘A unicorn horn, for Naomi’s twenty-fifth birthday.’”

“A unicorn horn?”

“Probably a carved piece of bone made to look like a unicorn horn.”

“Do you think Grandpa really believed it?”

“No.” He showed her the note. ‘Unicorn’ had quotation marks around it. She smiled at the glass case. It would certainly have been a unique gift. This was her third memento, the gift he meant to give her. She felt an ache in her chest then. It was so like her grandfather to think of the dearest things to do or give to his family. A unicorn horn for a woman who had recently reached adulthood but still felt like a little girl sometimes. He had known that the innocence and fantasy would have appealed to her.

“You can take the rest of the boxes. I’m not looking through anymore,” she said.

“Are you sure?” She nodded and took her three things downstairs. She couldn't look at anymore. It was becoming painful.

At home, the coat went in her closet, the cuff links went in her jewelry box, and the unicorn horn was to go on her coffee table right after she washed the dust off of it. She opened the case and lifted the horn out. It certainly looked ‘authentic’. The horn was about eighteen inches long and tapered to a sharp point. She set it aside and filled the sink with water. She'd just clean it up nice and have a relaxing day at home. She'd planned to go through her mail, do the crossword, and maybe watch a little television. Yes, just a nice, relaxing, normal day.

*          *          *

When they reached the castle, they had to skirt past more fighting men in the courtyard. The two women slinked through a large pair of wooden doors into an enormous room. There were people talking loudly and running everywhere. It sounded like they were looking for someone. Agatha stuck to the wall and led the way to a staircase. After several twists and turns, they ducked into a bedroom and closed the door behind them. The furniture was large and adorned with ornate scroll work. It looked like someone important slept there.

“Whose room is this?” she asked, not for a second thinking it was Agatha’s.

“Does it matter? We’re safe for now.” The old woman went over to an upright bureau and began rummaging through it. Naomi leaned against the wall. She hoped someone would show up soon to help them. She couldn’t wait to get back home.

“Here put this on.” Agatha took the sword and pushed a gown into her hands.

She took it but was befuddled. “Why?”

“For a disguise! You need to look like one of us.”

She nodded thinking it sounded like a good idea. She did stick out in her jeans and sweatshirt. She quickly stripped off her clothes and threw on the gown.

“How do I look?”

Agatha nodded with approval. “Like a lady.”

“Is that good?”

There was pounding at the door. Naomi jumped and looked at it in trepidation. “Where’s the sword?”

“You won’t need it.”

“What should we say to them?”

“No, ack, don’t, let go! That sort of thing.”

“What?”

Before she could demand further explanation, the door burst open, and a group of men with swords streamed in. One turned back and shouted into the corridor, “Alert the others, we’ve found her!”

“Found who? Wait! What’s going on?” They grabbed her by both arms and began to drag her from the room. The men pushed Agatha back.

“Don’t fear, Lady Naomi. Everything will be all right!”

“What? Agatha!”

The men hauled Naomi out. She kicked, and yelled, but the men wouldn't let her go. She only knew one thing. Agatha had set her up. That just went to show, never trust crazy old women. They’ll give you up to medieval throwbacks every time

The men took her back into the large hall where now there were more men, but thankfully no fighting. The men hauling her muscled their way through the others until they reached the dais at the end of the hall.

One man broke off and stepped forward. He knelt on one knee and announced, “Sir, we’ve secured the Lord’s lady. The castle is yours.”

She looked up at the dais to see who the soldier was talking to and gaped. The man that stood above her had on some sort of full-head mask. The mask was made of a dark metal and shaped like a demonic skull. It had a perpetual ghastly smile. Like Skeletor but scary. The eyes holes were black and empty. He had on full armor which had wet splashes of red still on it. In one hand, he gripped a massive sword. It dripped red too. All he needed was a severed head in his other hand to complete the picture. When he turned toward her, she felt the weight of his gaze like a shroud. She hoped her head wasn't supposed to complete the picture.

She gulped and said, “I really think there’s been a mistake.”

Chapter 2

The horn of the unicorn is called an alicorn.

The masked man stepped down from the dais. She strained back in a feeble attempt to get away from him, but the soldiers held her firmly in place and would not give her even a quarter of an inch. The masked man came to stand in front of her. He was not tall. Had to be about five foot seven. Instead of looking up to quiver in fear, she looked into the eye holes where she saw not a hint of humanity reflected back to her. Just black pits.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked. His voice was deep and a bit scratchy. She’d almost expected the mask’s jaw to move when he spoke. The voice matched the mask too well.

She shook her head. She could feel tears creeping out of the corners of her eyes. This was just too unreal. What the hell was happening to her? Where was Agatha? How was she going to get out of this?

“I am Lord Tavik. I have taken your husband’s castle, land, and by right of conquest, you are mine as well.”

“Who the hell do you think I am?” she blurted.

“Lady Naomi, I offer you a choice. You can die here today or become my bride. Which do you choose?”

She shook her head. “You've got me confused with someone else. My name's Naomi, but I'm Naomi Tailor from the United States. An old woman named Agatha brought me here. This is all just one huge mistake.” He had to believe her. Why wasn’t anyone stepping forward to tell him that she wasn’t this Lady Naomi? She looked around the hall, but from what she could see, all the men stood still with their attention on him. They were his men. Where were the castle’s inhabitants? Her eyes fell to the dripping sword. It was her silent answer. She felt sick.

“An old woman named Agatha?” the masked man repeated.

She bobbed her head.

“What is your choice?”

She boggled at him. “I’m not your Lady Naomi!”

He stepped closer. He raised his sword. “You will choose.”

“Between marrying you or dieing?”

He nodded.

She couldn’t believe the question.

“I will give you until the preparations are complete to decide. Take her back to her room,” he told the men holding her. They pulled her out of the room. She barely kept her feet under her. Her mind was sputtering over the situation.

The soldiers thrust her back into the room she’d been in when they found her and left her there. Agatha was no longer there. She was alone without any idea where she was, who these people were, or what was going to happen to her. She began to worry that she was in a very bad situation.

There was a piece of folded paper on the bed. She picked it up and read,

Naomi,

I am sorry for abandoning you, but this is the safest place for you. If Tavik takes you as his bride, you shouldn’t come to harm as long as you go along with whatever he wants. I’ll try to contact you once you’re settled in his castle. Don’t fear. I will help you.

Sincerely,

Agatha

P.S. You should tear up this letter and throw it out the window. Tavik does not like me and would take it very ill if he knew you were acquainted with me.

She read the postscript three times. Each time she read it, it got funnier. She tore up the letter still giggling over the fact that she was doomed. She wandered to the narrow window and threw out the bits of paper.

Watching the paper float away, she looked down. She was several stories up. Below was a medieval courtyard. Men ran around shouting at each other and carrying bundles. She guessed that’s what pillaging looked like. A lot of shouting, running, and carrying. And grabbing, couldn’t forget grabbing, she thought as she rubbed her bruised arms and neck.

When she lifted her eyes to the sky, she gasped and stumbled back. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision and looked back into the bright day sky. Her vision was still mistaken. She must have something in her eyes. She rubbed them more until they watered and became irritated, but something had to be wrong with them. She must have bumped her head and was now seeing things because she could not be seeing two moons. She was seeing double, and her eyes were messed up, that's why one moon was ruddy red and lopsided while the other was a pale yellow oval. There had to be something wrong with her eyes because if this were real, her situation became effectively much worse.

What in the world had she gotten herself into? What world indeed, her mind repeated with an unhinged twitter. She paced away from the window as her brain tried to push away the idea, but when she turned to pace back, she was facing the window with a view of two moons.

The very idea was impossible, improbable, impracticable, impermissible, and any other words that began with ‘im’ that meant that this COULD NOT BE HAPPENING. She could not have somehow gone to another planet. Maybe her apartment had imploded, she was in a coma, and her imagination was creating all of this. She pinched herself to test her theory. She felt the pinch, but she refused to accept the tactile evidence. She looked back up into the sky and placed her fingers around the view of the ruddy moon and closed her fingers, pinching it, but when she moved her hand, the lopsided moon still hung in the sky. This couldn’t be real, she kept repeating to herself. None of this could be real.

There was a soft tap at the door. She wrenched her eyes from the sky and looked over. The door was gently pushed open partway, and a stout middle-aged woman wearing an apron looked around its edge at her. She gave Naomi an unsure smile. She blinked back at her. Seeming to take her blank expression as welcome, the woman opened the door fully and carried in a large platter. She went to a small table, and Naomi crept over to her. She silently implored the unknown woman to turn and fix all her problems. This was just a big joke, right? She was about to be told she was on hidden camera. That had to be it, but no TV show host popped out of the wardrobe. The woman pulled out a chair and held it for her. Naomi took a seat and waited for everything to be explained.

The woman placed a plate before her with fruit and cheese on it. The fruit was normal: Grapes and peach slices. This had to be Earth then. Some alien planet wouldn’t have the same fruit or people. Everyone looked human, except for the guy in the mask. He probably had tentacles or something, but everyone else looked like someone she could meet on the street, except for their clothes. The Amish dressed more modernly than them. The silent woman poured something into a cup and set it down by the plate. The fermented smell of wine wafted out.

She didn’t touch the food or wine. She felt too unsettled to keep anything down. She swallowed and hunched forward. In a near whisper, she asked, “Please, help me."

The woman’s eyes flicked to her for a second. The tension around the eyes showed pity was there. Maybe she could help her. Maybe not solve all her problems, but maybe help her in some small way...

"Look my name's Naomi, but I'm not a Lady with a capital 'L'. My name’s Naomi Taylor, and I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what happened, but I’m here by accident. Please help me.”

The woman continued to putter with the tray. “You can weave whatever tales you like. You will not be freed.”

Her frustration made her spring up. “But I’m not her! I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here, and I just want to go home!”

The serving woman turned away to leave the table.

Naomi grabbed her arm. “There has to be someone here who knew this Lady Naomi! Find them and bring them. They’ll tell you I’m not her!”

“Any servant still in the castle will, of course, agree with you and claim you aren’t Lady Naomi to assist you in an escape. It’s not going to happen, girl.” She removed Naomi’s hand and walked over to the wardrobe. She opened it and began going through the gowns inside.

Naomi flopped back into the chair. Everyone was insane. There was no help on the horizon, and she was alone. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to hold back her sobs. Her brain was a maelstrom of confusion and anxiety. Questions flashed in her mind like lightning, but there was no answering thunder.

“Milady, you should eat. You’ll need all the strength you can muster for the upcoming events.”

She blinked dumbly at her. The woman indicated the fruit and wine before her. She glanced at the plate. She wanted to hurl it at the wall. She wanted to break stuff and scream. She turned her eyes away and found her head unconsciously turning to the window. The two moons were still there, and it felt like they were mocking her, asking did she really think she could understand any of this, that any sense could be made of anything. She could almost hear laughter coming down from the sky. She dropped her eyes to the floor. She wished the room didn’t have a window.

Taking one last stab at some sort of information, she asked, “What’s your name?”

The woman turned from the wardrobe. “My name is Yula. I am a cook for Lord Tavik.” She gave a slight curtsy.

“Nice to meet you, Yula. Now where am I?”

She looked puzzled and glanced around the room. “Isn’t this your chamber?”

She flicked her eyes around the room and turned them back to her. “No, this isn’t my room.”

“Would you like to be moved to your room?”

She slumped in her chair. “I don’t live in this castle. I’m not who you think I am. I’m a US citizen.”

Yula shook her head. “You can lie all you want. It won’t change anything, but it would make Lord Tavik angry, and he isn’t someone to make angry.”

“You mean the scary guy in the mask?”

Yula nodded. “Yes, the ‘scary guy in the mask’. He holds your fate in his hands. I suggest you be careful around him.”

“Was he serious about the marriage thing? I mean why marry me? How does he know I'm Lady Naomi? What if I'm not her and he marries me and the real Lady Naomi pops up? What then? Will he lose the castle and everything?”

“You better pray another Lady Naomi doesn't 'pop up'.”

“But it's possible, since I'm not her. The real Lady Naomi could be somewhere hiding in the castle right now.”

“If it's proven,” and Yula stressed the 'if', “That you're not Lady Naomi, then you will be executed.”

Well, that answered that question. She stared at the floor as she chewed on her thumbnail trying to think of something to do to help herself. She was stuck on [shudder] another planet, and her only hope, a crazy old woman with a frying pan, had disappeared. She remembered Agatha’s letter with a grimace. She’d already ruined her chances with her big mouth. The wedding was probably off, but hey, the execution was still on. She could feel the maniacal giggles creeping up again.

She slowly raised her eyes when she saw Yula had come to stand in front of her. She didn’t seem mean. She’d been fairly nice to her really as jailers went, but she was still her jailer. “Is there anything else I can get for you, milady?”

“Yes, a way out of here,” she mumbled against her thumb.

Yula absently nodded her head, not as though she would help her escape but only to acknowledge that she had spoken. “I will be happy to fetch anything you need.”

“You can’t keep me here,” she said, but her voice didn’t hold any conviction; it held despair.

All of this was ridiculous, she reasoned. She could not be on another planet. How had she arrived here if she were? Her eyes turned back to the window to look at the two moons. Only one thing came to mind. Though she could not believe she was pursuing this, she asked, “What do you know about unicorn horns?”

The cook looked at her in surprise. “Unicorns are rare and wondrous beasts. Their horns can heal the sick and purify water. They are very brave and wild. The only thing that can tame the beasts is someone of unbroken honor.”

“Do you know anything else about their horns? What can they do?”

“What is your interest in unicorn horns?”

She lowered her eyes. “I think one brought me here.”

“Do you still have it?”

She shook her head. “I dropped it.”

Yula sighed. “That is tragic.”

“Could I get another unicorn horn?”

“I couldn’t say. I've considered it.”

“Where would I find one?” She knew her hope that they were stocked in the corner store was a sick delusion, but she still held out hope.

The cook shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea.”

Well, there went that avenue of hope. Time to change the subject. She cast about for ideas and only one thing outside of escape interested her, after all he may or may not be her future husband. “What does Lord Tavik look like?”

“No one knows. He wears the helm at all times. Anyone who has dared to try to remove it did not live to regret it.”

“Why won’t he let others see his face?”

Yula shrugged again.

“God, I hope I’m dreaming.”

Yula reached out and pinched her hard on the arm. She yelped.

“You’re not dreaming.”

She glared at her and rubbed her bruised arm. “Fine, this is all real, but none of it makes sense! When I say I’m not from here, I mean not from this planet. My planet is Earth. We have only one moon, it is white, and we don’t have unicorns or scary guys in metal masks.”