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eBook Category: Fantasy
eBook Description: Magic has returned to our world, and nothing will ever be the same. Follow the adventures of a young man and his miraculous traveling companion on a dark and dangerous odyssey through a world where fantasy and reality have collided. The darkly beautiful urban fantasy that has captured readers' hearts and minds for over fifteen years is now available in a special electronic edition featuring new, never-before published material, and an afterword by the author.

eBook Publisher: Quintamid LLC, Published: Ace Books, 1983
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2003

85 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.3 MB], eReader (PDB) [415 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [421 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [374 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [503 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [395 KB], hiebook (KML) [978 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [548 KB], iSilo (PDB) [348 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [433 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [491 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [569 KB]
Words: 131000
Reading time: 374-524 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"I couldn't put it down. A damned good yarn!"--Roger Zelazny

What is your substance, whereof are you made
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?

--Shakespeare, Sonnet LIII

I WAS BATHING IN A LAKE when I saw the unicorn. The water was cool and clear; the pollution had vanished years ago. I'm young, but I can remember the times before the Change when the filthy water would catch fire by itself. Now, though, I could leave my clothes next to my blowgun on the shore, grab a bar of Lifebuoy, and wade on in. It was clean enough to fill my drinking flask from.

I was scrubbing myself, enjoying the feel of slippery lather. It was a quiet day--as quiet as it ever gets, only the wind and the rustling of leaves, the accompanying insects. I usually sang when I bathed, to fill up the silence, but that day the silence was fitting and right, and I remained quiet.

I had just scrubbed my face, and I ducked under to wash off the soap. When I came back up, I brushed wet hair from my eyes and spat out a sparkling stream of water. I shook my head rapidly and rubbed my eyes.

There was a unicorn pawing at my clothes on the shore.

I had seen unicorns before, fleetingly. They were shy, cautious creatures that usually bolted when they sensed me, like quick flashes of sunlight on metal. In the five years since the Change I had become used to seeing fairy-tale things, living myths, but as I looked upon this creature I knew I had seen nothing to compare to it for sheer beauty. I felt as if some cold fish had slid across my belly as I marveled in the cool water.

It is an injustice to say merely that its coat was white. Oh, it was white, all right, but it was more than that. It was a white like I remember the best vanilla ice cream, but finer and smoother. Sometimes the sun hit it just right and bright rainbow crescents fanned out like light through a fine spray of water. The hooves were mirror-bright--platinum or silver, I couldn't tell. A distant lighthouse beacon on a lonely night, the spiral horn rose from the noble head: milky white, warm and welcoming.

I can't say how long I watched it. Seconds, minutes, hours. Its tail swished randomly. Its nose was pressed against my backpack, but suddenly the majestic head lifted and it regarded me with two paralyzingly black eyes. Eyes full of life and intelligence. Eyes I could fall into. Lover's eyes. As it moved, the mane shimmered on its muscular neck like a road on a hot day.

We looked at each other. Why did I suddenly have the feeling that I was the one who had no place in the world, that it was more real than I was? I was afraid to move, thinking I might frighten it away. Instead, I did the only thing I could think of to do:

"Hello," I said.

The silky ears pricked up, but otherwise it just stood there, reading my soul with those eyes. I began walking cautiously toward the shore. Fear flashed in its eyes and I spoke to it in what I hoped was a reassuring voice.

"It's all right," I said. "I won't hurt you. It's all right." I said this over and over again as I inched closer. Soon I emerged, naked and dripping, from the water.

I held out my hands: let's be friends. There was pain in the beautiful face, and my smile disappeared when I saw why. The right front leg was broken. Swollen and discolored, it was made even uglier because such a thing didn't belong on this perfect beast. No wonder it hadn't run away.

"Oh, you poor thing," I said, kneeling.

It backed away, half-dragging the broken leg.

"I want to help you," I said, and stood up.

It looked straight at me. Its eyes were level with mine. "Bwoke," it said in a little-girl voice.

"I know. Here?" I reached out slowly and stroked her shoulder. It felt like--I don't know. Somewhere between cotton and silk.

It--she, rather--flinched at the touch, but I stroked her mane until she relaxed.

"Bwoke," she said again.

"Yeah, it's broken. Pretty bad, too. I've got to find something to use as a splint so I can set it, okay?"

"Kayyy," she agreed.

I put on my pants and shoes and picked up the blowgun, then slid a handful of darts into a rear pocket. "Don't go away, all right" You'll hurt your leg even worse."

"Bwoke."

"Right." I smiled and darted out to the road, followed it about fifty yards until I came to a driveway leading to abandoned house. I entered cautiously. I wasn't worried too much about squatters or vigilantes, but it never hurts to play it safe. I took a sheet from a musty bedroom, bundled it up, and walked into the garage. The car parked there was an old Volkswagen. The tires were flat and the windows were caked with dust. I picked up a rag from a work bench and wiped at the front windshield.

There was a corpse sitting behind the wheel. It looked as if it had been there a long time. Years. There was a bottle beside it. The label read POTASSIUM CYANIDE in bright red, with a skull and crossbones beneath. I wondered why he--she?--had done it.

I shrugged. Suicide had never been a viable option to me. I liked life, crazy as it was.

I turned around and picked up two long, thin boards from a small pile against the wall. The eerie feeling that the corpse was watching me made me feel like a dozen mice had skittered down my back.

I hurried from the dead house and ran down the road.