by I don’t recommend running that kind of distance in slip-on summer sandals. I had to take them off halfway to the glade, having almost tripped and brained myself on one of the ancient oaks marching along either side of the driveway (those gnarly old roots are deadly). I arrived sweat-bathed, out of breath and with shredded feet.
Addie had acquired some new vegetation. Something frilly and pungently-scented met my senses as I entered the unicorn glade, its long, narrow leaves displaying an unusual array of colours. There were so many of these bushes, I couldn’t even see the pool at the heart of the glade.
Or Addie either.
‘Addie!’ I yelled, with as much breath as I could muster. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. Nothing stirred at all, and not only was Addie herself nowhere in sight, but her — our — other friends were absent, too.
I stood frozen for one horrible moment, my heart pounding, visions of disaster spinning through my brain. Someone had discovered the glade. Someone had taken Addie and the others away.
A soft whuffi interrupted this sickening train of thought, and something shoved me from behind, hard enough almost to knock me over.
I recognised that whuffi.
I spun on my hooves, tail swishing, horn held high.
Addie planted her feet, lifted her head, and whuffied. Again.
‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I said, the words emerging as a series of whuffis. ‘You’re having a chip emergency? That’s what you brought me running out here for?’
‘Whuffi,’ said Addie.
‘A lack of chips is not an emergency, Addie! Giddy gods! You almost gave me a heart attack!’
‘Whuff,’ said Addie, with less defiance.
‘And as you can see, I have brought zero chips. I expected to find you kidnapped or injured or dismembered or something, not hungry.’
Addie’s head lowered, but she declined to reply, seeming intent upon chewing a long stalk of grass pressed between her lips.
‘I mean, I’d get bored of eating grass too, I grant you. And I have been a bit preoccupied lately. I should have brought you a basin of chips days ago and I apologise.’
Addie whickered, and spat out the grass.
‘Nonetheless, you can’t panic-summon me every time you fancy some fast food. It isn’t on and I won’t have it. There’s only so many heart attacks a girl can survive, you know?’
Addie gave me a flat stare, which I chose to interpret as semi-defiant capitulation. Fine, have it your way.
‘Thank you,’ I said, and looked around. Still no sign of the others. ‘Where are the girls? You haven’t eaten them in a fit of ravening hunger?’
A snort. Addie turned and, tail swishing, trotted away into the bushes.
I followed after.
Jay found me there sometime later. Probably some hours later, judging from the poorly-concealed exasperation I saw on him.
‘Ves,’ he said, picking me out from the line-up of unicorn ladies with unerring accuracy. I wonder sometimes what I look like. All I’ve seen of my own unicorn-form is the hazy, swishy reflection the pool can offer me, which is imprecise. I think I have a rainbow mane, but that might just be wishful thinking.
I dipped my head in acknowledgement of this salutation.
‘Is there some reason why now seemed like a perfect time to take a horn holiday?’
Horn holiday. I laughed so hard I choked on my own nose-hair.
Jay watched me with widened eyes. ‘Is that— are you dying? What’s happening?’
I controlled myself. ‘I’m fine,’ I said. Whuffi, whuffi. ‘Did you bring any chips?’
I knew the answer already: no. I’d have smelt them otherwise. So would Addie, and she’d be presently mowing Jay down in her haste to devour every greasy, delectable morsel.
‘I didn’t bring any pancakes,’ Jay said, nearly but not quite interpreting me correctly. Not bad, huh? ‘I wasn’t expecting to need any,’ he said, a little apologetically. ‘But if you’ll come back Home with me, we can probably persuade Kitchen to rectify that.’
‘I love Kitchen!’ I declared, and frisked over to Jay. Kitchen could probably be persuaded to rustle up a bucket of chips for Addie and the girls, too — better make it two or three buckets — and then maybe my beloved Familiar would leave me in peace for a little while, so we could get on with the important business of pulling off a daring hoax.
I fell into step beside Jay, and we made our way at a slow amble out of Addie’s perfect, peaceful little glade.
The moment I stepped over the invisible threshold, my hooves and horn disappeared again, leaving me human-Ves.
‘Horn holiday,’ I said, giggling.
Jay carefully avoided looking at me. ‘I should have thought to bring you a new dress, too. Honestly wasn’t very organised today.’
‘Oh! That’s okay. I seem to have worked out how to hang onto my clothes.’ I was indeed dressed in my summer silks once more, though my sandals had vanished, probably never to be seen again.
Jay shot me a startled look. ‘How did you manage that?’
‘No clue.’
‘Nice one.’
A little later, one Ves (and one Jay) having been suitably stuffed with banana-split pancakes, and one herd of unicorns having been suitably plied with unhealthy snacks, Jay and I flopped into our usual flumping-spots in the common room and exchanged notes.
‘So why exactly were you hobnobbing with the horn squad?’ he said.
I tried to keep a straight face, really I did.
After ten seconds or so of solid giggling on my part, Jay lost his composure, and began to laugh as well. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t do that when I want a straight answer out of you.’
I took a deep breath, only slightly wobbly in the middle, and managed to get a grip. ‘Addie had an emergency. A real, honest-to-god, sirens-sounding, help-me-this-instant emergency. I almost broke my neck hurtling down the stairs from Milady’s tower, and my poor feet may never recover from my mad dash out to the glade.’ I displayed the ruined soles of my feet for Jay’s inspection.
He made a sympathetic noise. ‘And what was the emergency?’
‘Lack of chips. Honestly, it’s inspiring. Next time I have a pancake craving but no pancakes, I’m getting me an air-raid siren. That should fetch you all running.’
‘I’ll make a note,’ Jay promised. ‘If the air-raid sounds, it’s straight down to the cellar, or risk being mauled to death by Hangry Ves.’
‘Hangry? I am never hangry.’
‘No, that’s true. Really you just look forlorn and a bit pitiful, like a sad puppy.’
My dignity did not especially like that idea. I sniffed.
Jay grinned. ‘It’s okay. It’s cute.’
Cute. Huh.
‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘Why were you looking for me again?’
‘Oh, because everything’s ready. Project Hoax launches in the morning.’
‘Project Hoax? Subtle much?’
‘It’s accurate. Does what it says on the tin.’
‘Fair.’
Jay went down a list of details, proving that he and Val had thought of basically everything. I felt a twinge of compunction. Jay was right, I shouldn’t have spent the whole day hobnobbing with the horn squad. I should have been helping Val and Jay. And Rob, who had an entire security, surveillance and pursuit plan mapped out and it was only seven o’clock in the evening.
I hadn’t meant to spend the whole day in there, honest. It can be hard to keep track of time as a unicorn. I’d swear I had been there for only a couple of hours.
‘So we should get an early night,’ he finished, demonstrating once again what a responsible Boy Scout he is. ‘You especially.’
‘Why me especially?’
‘Because you’re hosting.’
‘What?’
He grinned. ‘We’re keeping the identity of the supposed owner “anonymous”. This exhibition is being handled by a professional events agency, the face of which is you.’
‘Jay. A public exhibition, attracting everyone who’s anyone in magick? People will recognise me. Even if I wear—’ I paused to take a breath, shuddering ‘—ordinary hair.’
‘I know. That’s why we’re putting you in disguise.’
My eyebrows rose.
‘You did want to play dressing-up?’
‘What, are you going to give me a new face?’
‘No.’
‘Of course not.’
‘But we are giving you the appearance of a new face.’
I sucked in a breath. Advanced illusion work? That shit was expensive.
And incredibly fun.
‘Who am I going to be?’ I asked, breathless with anticipation.
‘We thought we’d leave that up to you.’
I bounced in my seat.
‘But!’ Jay raised a warning hand. ‘Don’t go too crazy, okay? We want your persona to be believable.’
I crossed my heart. ‘Soul of discretion,’ I promised.
Jay’s look was profoundly sceptical.
One thing it’s difficult for illusion-work to do, however intricate, is give an inaccurate impression of height. If you haven’t got the bulk, you haven’t got it; it’s no use trying to stick two extra feet of height onto yourself. I mean, what are you going to put in it? Thin air?
So I went for a form suited to my stunted stature.
‘Spriggan?’ said Jay, when I finally emerged from Home’s hair-and-makeup team (so to speak).
I patted my hair. I hadn’t gone for anything too nuts, as per Jay’s request. They’d given me a blue rinse and a crown of braids, attractive but also professional.
Oh, and they’d aged me up by about sixty years.
‘That’s it?’ I said. ‘That’s all you’re going to comment on?’
Jay looked me over. ‘Anything else I should consider noteworthy?’
‘How about my transformation into a ninety-year-old woman?’
‘I’m sure you had your reasons.’
‘Respectability,’ I informed him, though he hadn’t precisely enquired. ‘People trust kindly old ladies, don’t they?’
‘Are you going to be kindly?’
‘With a bit of brisk efficiency thrown in. No doddering though.’
Jay nodded gravely. ‘There can’t be any doddering. The entire mission would be thrown into jeopardy.’
I squinted at him. ‘My name, in case you’re interested, is Cornelia Spink.’
His face didn’t even twitch.
‘Fine,’ I sighed. ‘Actually it’s Cornelia Morgan.’
‘Very well, Ms. Morgan,’ said Jay. ‘If you’ll be so good as to come with me, we’ll pop off to your waiting venue, maybe get you a nice cup of tea and a biscuit.’
‘I hope that isn’t an age joke,’ I said severely.
‘Not in the least.’
‘I like a nice cup of tea and a biscuit, even when I’m not being ninety.’
‘Even at the tender age of thirty-one?’ Jay said, incredulous. ‘Surely not.’
I thwapped him with my respectably taupe-coloured handbag. ‘As, may I remind you, do you.’
Jay grinned, relenting. ‘I was hoping for a nice cup of tea and a biscuit myself.’
‘Will there be custard creams?’
‘Absolutely without question.’
Off we popped.
