Page 44 of Silver Linings

Well, except make myself a cup of chamomile tea, just as my grandmother would have if she’d still been here.

Filling the kettle and puttering around the kitchen while I waited for it to boil helped calm my mind a little. Not even close to all the way, but I thought by the time I finished drinking the tea, I should have calmed down sufficiently to go to sleep and put this day behind me. Sure, I’d had one small victory when I faced down the mayor over my anti-Northwest Pacific campaign — and I was pretty sure I’d impressed Ben with the story, if the surprised admiration on his face as I’d related the tale had been any indication — but I had a whole bushel of other things I needed to worry about.

Chiefly, that it shouldn’t matter whether I’d impressed Ben or not, since I doubted he’d want to have anything to do with me after the way I’d treated him tonight.

The logical part of my mind told me I shouldn’t want to have anything to do with him, either, but unfortunately, feelings tended to be not entirely logical a good deal of the time.

A whistle began to escape the kettle, telling me the water was hot enough to make some tea. I turned off the gas and poured hot water into my waiting cup, then hung around another few minutes or so to let it steep. When preparing herbal tea, I often just left the bag in the cup because it was hard to make that kind of thing too strong, but this time, I extracted it and dumped it in the trash before I headed out into the living room.

We had drapes on all the windows, but because the house sat alone on three acres and there weren’t any immediate neighbors, we often left them open. Tonight, though, I didn’t like that feeling of being exposed, so I went to the big picture window and reached for the curtains, planning to pull them shut.

Before I could do so, however, a flash of white in the darkness caught my eye.

What the hell? Was someone walking around out there with a flashlight?

An improbable hope flooded through me.

Maybe it was Ben, coming back to try to apologize. He’d been wearing a white button-down shirt when he came over for dinner, and that could have been what I’d spotted on the periphery of my vision.

But then I saw the glint again and realized that was no human being out there in the night-dark yard.

No, it was the unicorn.

I’d already set my tea down on the coffee table, so I was able to bolt out the front door immediately, although I paused just long enough to throw a jacket over my long-sleeved shirt. Yes, it was the getting toward the end of May, but the nights here could still be pretty damn cold, thanks to the ever-present damp sea breezes.

The unicorn was waiting for me near the small clump of trees that marked the eastern edge of the property. I couldn’t begin to think what it was doing here, since I’d never heard of it — or any of the other strange beasts who sometimes appeared in the woods — venturing past the edges of the forest.

“What is it?” I asked in a low voice as I approached. No, I wasn’t afraid of being overheard, but I also didn’t want to spook the creature.

He shook his silvery white mane. This close, I realized what I’d seen from the living room window was the starlight glow emanating from his long, spiraled horn, shimmering and lovely as a cluster of fireflies.

And then he turned and began to move away at a fast walk, not quite a trot, just barely slow enough that I thought I should be able to keep up.

Thank God for practical shoes.

The unicorn moved with practiced care, as if he had come this way before. Odd, because I knew I’d never seen him anywhere near the house before. Then again, it wasn’t as if I sat watchful all night, so I supposed he could have come and gone without me ever noticing.

Or, more likely, something urgent had compelled him to leave the forest and enter a populated area despite the obvious risks.

That thought lent additional urgency to my journey, even though I had no idea where the unicorn was leading me. Back into the forest, sure, since we’d already reached the outer, thinner edges of the woods. Almost at once, though, the trees gradually began to grow taller and become more closely clustered together, until we were in the thick of it.

I thought I recognized the trail, although I couldn’t tell for sure, not with the only real light coming from the unicorn’s glowing horn. Maybe there would be a moon later, but for now, I had to hope the creature wouldn’t suddenly abandon me out there, since I’d have a hell of a time finding my way back.

Up ahead, though, I thought I saw another light, this one pale and manmade, like a flashlight propped up against a tree trunk. Its faint glow illuminated the outline of a man standing there, seeming to stare up into the forest canopy.

At once, the unicorn zigged to the left and disappeared among the trees.

Well, that was just great.

However, I didn’t appear to be alone out here, and I had to hope that whoever the man was whom I’d just spied, he’d be someone helpful and not a serial killer who intended to chop me into pieces and bury the various bits out here in the forest where no one would find them.

As I approached, though, I realized I knew him.

Ben Sanders.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” I demanded.

At once, he whirled around, his expression as shocked as I knew mine probably was.

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