Page 17 of Playing with Fire

Uh oh. I didn’t like the sound of that. Most magical substances only required skin contact to work well, which meant he probably had some hellish mundane poison or irritant he wanted to show off. “Are you going to take it, too?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I will be the control subject for this demonstration.”

I tensed. There was exactly one compound I could think of that he’d be willing to test with me. “Oh no. Hell no. Hell fucking no. Not happening, Professor Yale. You keep that shit away from me.”

The old man laughed long and loud. “It’s only a D grade sample, Miss Gardener. You’ll be fine.”

The next time I was volunteered for testing and agreed to put up with it, I’d remember transformative substances carried a hazard rating, which they earned due to their unpredictable nature, risk of permanency, and longevity. Magic worked in mysterious ways, and unlike almost every other class of substance on Earth, transformative substances locked victims into only one shape; after exposure, the CDC maintained a database of names and transformations in case other government agencies required the information.

I became a unicorn, and not the pretty white kind with a sparkling horn and a tendency to fart rainbows.

Contemplating escape didn’t help me. Professor Yale moved fast for an old man, and an assistant locked the door behind him before I had a chance to make a run for it. “This is happening, Bailey. You may as well surrender now.”

“Damn it.” I sighed and held out my hand for the tiny gel capsule. “I don’t suppose you’ll go first?”

Professor Yale gave me the pill. “If that’ll make you happy, sure.”

Maybe the students would be too busy laughing at the professor’s fluffy bunny ears to notice me. Yeah, right. After I swallowed the pill, within five or ten minutes, I’d be a black and red mottled equine armed with a pointy stick on my head—a very sharp stick with a razor-like edge spiraling from brow to tip.

“The transformative category of hazardous magical substances is among the most dangerous. Until someone has been exposed to a substance, no one knows what they will become. You might become a cat. You might become a rat.” Professor Yale popped his pill into his mouth and swallowed. Since he only underwent a partial transformation, it took about twenty seconds for him to sprout his bunny ears. “You might, like me, become a rabbit. Grade D substances trigger minimal alterations in most subjects. Bailey, please demonstrate the rule’s exception.”

Yippee. I heaved the most dramatic sigh I could manage and swallowed the pill.

Under normal circumstances, I would have exercised my right to curse up a storm at the discomfort of transformation, but since I had an audience of young men and women about to get an up close and personal look at how a human body could expand, sprout fur, mangle bones and grow new ones, I kept my vocabulary to myself and limited myself to a few pained grunts and involuntary whimpers.

Transformative substances sucked, I hated them, and I seriously considered stabbing Professor Yale with the weapon attached to my forehead. It took me a few minutes after the magic had its way with me to scramble to my hooves, which clattered on the tiled floor. Flattening my ears, I leveled a glare at Professor Yale, who dared to chuckle.

Fortunately, while my head and body were mostly equine in nature, vaguely resembling the love child of a goat and a horse, my specific species of unicorn possessed vocal chords capable of limited English. Anything with two or more syllables gave me trouble, and speaking made my soft, equine mouth ache. I stomped a hoof, which clicked on the floor. “Not fun-ee. Hate you.”

Professor Yale grinned. “Class, look very carefully. This will probably be the first—and only—time in your life you will ever see a unicorn of her breed. As a part of your certification, each of you will be exposed to D grade transformative substances to determine your species. Like me, you will probably experience a very minimal alteration, generally harmless in nature. For most situations, there are three grades you need to be aware of: C, B, and A. Exposure to A+ and greater transformative substances will likely result in a permanent transformation or death. D or lower has negligible effects. You can even purchase some limited E grade compounds in novelty stores. Bailey and I each took a pill made from the same batch of compound, which for safety reasons I will not name. No matter which substance Miss Gardener is exposed to, the results are the same, which qualifies her for the safe handling and testing of all A+ graded transformative materials.”

He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Neutralizer, please.”

The ceiling sprayers released a cloud of vapor, and I lifted my head, flared my nostrils, and breathed it in. Professor Yale did the same. From his pocket, he pulled out a meter, which he activated. It squealed, and only when the wretched device stopped making noise did the chamber operators cut off the vapor flow.

Returning the meter to his pocket, Professor Yale gestured to the bloodied scraps of my hospital gown on the tile. “The gown she was wearing didn’t survive the transformation process, and her blood was contaminated with the substance. When you’re in the field, you need to be aware that contamination can easily spread. All surfaces the victim touched must be neutralized to prevent accidental spread. Any questions?”

On the other side of the glass, many hands went up, and the students eagerly leaned forward.

“Third row, fourth from the left. Ask.”

“Why is Miss Gardener black and red? Aren’t unicorns supposed to be white?”

I snorted and stared at Professor Yale, hoping he’d let me demonstrate something rather than just stand around looking pretty for the amusement and education of a bunch of green recruits. With a faint smile, he nodded.

Twisting around so I faced the glass, I lunged a stride forward, tossed my head back, and stamped my hooves. I gave a swish of my tail and eyed the humans, faery, and other supernatural hiding behind the barrier, safe and sound. Most of the time I hated my dirty little unicorn secret, but the body came with one ability I loved: fire. All the fire, fire for me to breathe, enjoy, and even roll in if I wanted.

I loved fire, and I shared my love with the students, blowing a gout of flame over the glass. Those in the front rows recoiled. A few even screamed, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

“For the record, Miss Gardener classifies as a vanilla human. Transformative substances with an A or greater grading temporarily transfer the abilities of the new form to their victim. This is why these substances are often so dangerous. The higher grade substances come at a great price, including the complete and total loss of personality and identity. In short, should you be exposed to A+ or greater transformative substances, you will irrevocably become a new species. Questions?”

Every hand went up, and Professor Yale picked on a woman. “Yes?”

“Does transforming hurt?”

Since unicorns couldn’t shrug, I shook my head before nodding.

“That depends on the individual. Bailey is often quite vocal when subjected to extreme pain. If she isn’t cursing, it’s typically a tolerable discomfort. However, as I’ve witnessed her transform numerous times, I’m confident she was sparing your gentle young ears from the profanities that usually spew from her mouth. Today’s transformation went better than others.”