As I could see through the mythical beast, I was fairly certain it was glamour. But why? And who had created it? The man riding on its back was clearly human, his soul, while a little dim was the yellow I associated with humans. He might have been a witch—that didn’t change the color of the soul—but he certainly wasn’t fae. So he couldn’t have created the unicorn. Then what is he doing on its back?
Jenson was staring at me. I’d never answered his question. With a forced smile, I gave him a noncommittal shrug. After all, the unicorn wasn’t doing any harm. Just making a spectacle in the street. Now if it turned carnivorous and started eating the man, that would be a problem, but as it was, what was the harm?
As I watched the unlikely pair trot out of view and vanish around a corner, I wished I could truly believe that it really was just an innocent spectacle, but in my experience, nothing good ever came from glamour.
? ? ?
By the time I left work, the unicorn was already an Internet sensation and speculation about the man riding it was running rampant. Dozens of cell phone videos had captured the beast trotting down the street, but the pair had vanished before reporters arrived on the scene, so most of the footage was shaky or shot from a far angle. I’d followed some of the coverage, but nothing provided any clue as to where the glamoured beast had come from, or why, so I’d eventually gone back to the less than thrilling task of cataloguing the not-so-magic coins I’d been hired to analyze.
Rianna had made me promise I wouldn’t sleep at the office again, so after putting it off as long as possible, I finally packed up the coins, gathered my dog, and headed to the house I shared with two housemates and one uninvited house-crasher.
The lights in my one-room efficiency over the garage were all blaring bright and cheery behind the blinds when I arrived home. Falin was in. I stared at the lights as I parked. Then, picking up PC, I bypassed the steps on the side of the house that led to my private entrance and headed toward the door to the main house. Back when I’d first moved in, Caleb had given me a key to the main house in case of emergency. I dug in my purse for that key now. It had been getting quite a workout in the last few weeks.
As I searched for the key, the sound of a movie playing drifted through the door, and I hesitated. Both Caleb’s and Holly’s cars were in the drive, which meant they were likely watching something together. A few weeks ago, I might have plopped down on the couch beside them and asked someone to pass the popcorn. But a lot had changed recently. For one, Holly and Caleb were likely not just watching a movie, but cuddling while doing so—and hopefully nothing more than cuddling. You’d think they were a pair of love-struck teenagers the way they were suddenly all about each other. Dreamily gazing into someone else’s eyes while wearing a smile you just can’t contain might feel great during new love, but it was damn awkward for the third wheel living with the couple.
Also, there would be no popcorn.
A few months ago Holly had been forced to eat Faerie food, which for whatever reason, is addictive to mortals. And not the kind of addictive that any number of anonymous group meetings in a basement was likely to fix. Once a mortal ate Faerie food, they could sustain life on nothing else. Human food turned to ash on the tongue. There was no cure. It was Faerie food or starve, and Faerie food couldn’t be removed from Faerie without disgusting—and inedible—results.
So, no popcorn or any other form of movie snacks. Also, with the floor plan of the house, I couldn’t even subtly nuke a TV dinner without her being very aware of it from the couch. She rarely complained directly about anyone eating in front of her, but I knew her dietary restrictions pained her. Add to that the fact that it was sort of my fault she was in this mess as the deranged changeling who’d given her Faerie food in the first place had kidnapped Holly to use as bait for me . . . and yeah, I didn’t eat mortal fare in front of her.
I glanced down at PC in my arms. “Which awkward is more uncomfortable?” I asked him in a whisper.
The little dog cocked one white tufted ear and wagged his tail. Which wasn’t an answer. Not that the dog would have cared even if he had been capable of answering. As long as he had food and a bed, he was an easygoing kind of guy. I, on the other hand, would rather not have to choose between the weird tension between Falin and me, or the awkward intrusion into Caleb and Holly’s budding romance and the guilt I’d feel if I made even as little as a cold sandwich with Holly around.
With a sigh, I set PC in the grass so he could do his business. Once he was finished, I turned away from the main door and headed toward the stairs to my loft, hoping it was the right choice.