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Oh boy. I hook my thumbs in the pockets of my jeans and try not to let anxiety show on my face. We’ve got a legit unicorn hanging out in our backyard. As majestic as she is, I suspect this is probably not going to end well. Even if nothing crazy happens… ‘visiting’ implies temporary. She’s going to leave at some point and then we’ll have a heartbroken Pax to deal with.
Ahh, the joys of motherhood, right?
Chapter Five
Little Creepy
Having a unicorn in my backyard is definitely strange, though not as weird as expected.
According to Tammy, the unicorn doesn’t need to eat conventional food nor does it truly require sheltering from the elements. There’s no need for me to worry about getting supplies for our guest, so it’s probably not too big an issue how long it stays in the yard—except there’s a chance the unicorn’s presence might attract trouble. She likened it to the supernatural version of someone walking around a bad part of LA at night wearing a suit made of $100 bills; meaning, nothing to worry about until the wrong person or entity sees it.
It’s been a few days—specifically a whole weekend—and nothing’s blown up yet.
Paxton spent almost every waking moment outside with the unicorn. If that’s not a testament to the awesome magical power contained in that creature, I have no idea what would be. To keep a modern teenager entirely away from all electronic gadgets for two full days? Crazy powerful. At least kiddo is taking the whole secrecy thing seriously. She didn’t invite her friends over to see the unicorn or try to show it off to anyone outside the family. I’m pretty sure she told her friends she had some ‘family stuff’ to do and couldn’t get away from the house last weekend.
So yeah. It’s Monday again, and already someone fired a gun at me.
I’m fine. He missed. Tweakers don’t really have great aim, thank goodness. At least Tammy stayed at the office. In short, I had gone to look for a missing kid named Jeff. I say ‘kid’, but really… the guy is eighteen, not a literal kid. His parents got worried since he hadn’t answered the phone or responded to their texts in the past twelve hours. Evidently, his dorm buddies told them he was fine and just not there at the moment.
The parents, not happy with the answer, called me.
I went to the dorm, talked to some of his friends while pretending to be a somewhat air-headed waitress Jeff started to date. They pointed me at an address downtown, which I assumed to be a drug den. Sure enough, turned out to be just that. I found Jeff there—thankfully alive, if blazed out of his mind.
The armed tweaker (not Jeff by the way) freaked out at the sight of me, started screaming about the end times… then pulled out a gun and tried to put a bullet in me. Poor guy kept ranting about a ‘black winged angel’ being the harbinger of Armageddon. Okay, so I do happen to have black wings—but I hadn’t unfurled them. Either it was a bizarre coincidence or this dude got some high-grade LSD that let him see into alternate dimensions. The coincidence was freaky enough that I’ve been feeling weird about it all day. Did that guy really see my wings, or was he simply out of his mind?
Anyway, the rest of my morning went down the drain of dealing with police and paperwork.
Lucky for me, the guy was so high, strung out, and utterly batty, no one is going to take anything he says about my wings seriously. Guy’s looking at charges for possession, concealed weapon, attempted murder, and who knows what else. Very good chance he’ll end up in a mental institution rather than prison.
Tammy’s been busy on background checks. That order from the security place was waiting for us in our email first thing that morning. She started on that while I went looking for Crackhead Jeff. My return to the office a little after noon—nothing with cops ever happens fast—is cause for her to take a break.
I’m mostly done telling her the story of what happened over our Chinese food when my cell phone rings. My reflex to simply mute it and carry on with my day stalls as soon as I see it’s Paxton calling.
So, I answer. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Mom,” whispers Paxton, her voice echoey as if she’s in an industrial-sized bathroom. She also sounds scared. “Someone’s following me.”
Instantly, I see red. But I blink it away as my brain quickly rummages around facts, shoving everything work-related aside until it finds kiddo’s schedule and explains why this phone call sounds like she’s at an airport or something. Oh, that’s right! Her class had a field trip today to the California Science Center in LA.
“Did you tell your teachers?” I ask.
“No… they wouldn’t believe me.”
I drum my fingers on the desk. Hard. “Why do you think they wouldn’t believe you?”
“Because, umm… I haven’t really seen him. It’s just a shadow. And it feels… evil.”
The way her voice quivered when she said ‘evil’ tells me there’s a reasonable chance this situation is not exactly a typical creepy guy problem. There’s also a reasonable chance this jerk is about to get his head bashed in... by yours truly. She wouldn’t be so freaked out about a strange man staring at her. That’s happened to her a few times already, and she’s handled it well. Then again, a creep simply staring at her is a bit different from one actively following her around. Still, between the fear in her voice and what Tammy said about the unicorn’s presence possibly acting as a beacon for something bad—yeah, I’m worried.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“In a bathroom, hiding in a stall. Can’t stay here too much longer or I’ll get in trouble.”
“Take a photo of the sink area and text it to me.”
“Okay.”
Shuffling noises come over the line. A moment later, my phone emits an ‘incoming text’ beep. I minimize the call and open the text. Looks like she stuck her phone up over the top of the stall door and took a picture of the outside area by the sinks. Good enough.
