Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
I’m lucky that Xander’s garden has a high wall circling its perimeter. Dexter winds himself around my legs, and Story, with a big grin on her face, sits on a purple plant pot, kicking her legs against its shiny painted surface.
“So we’re doing this?” she asks, clapping her hands with glee.
“I guess so.” I’m not feeling so gleeful. I wrinkle my nose and scratch the back of my head. “I’ve never been around shifters when they do this stuff, Story, so do I shift with my clothes on or my clothes off?” I pluck at my jogging bottoms.
Story shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll keep them on then.” I bounce on my toes and roll my shoulders as I waggle my arms about to loosen them. “Okay, let’s do this.”
I feel strong. I’m like Rocky. You know, in the boxing movie when he runs up the stairs and punches his fist in the air, “Eye of the Tiger”.
POW-POW.
I can take on the world. After the knife to the leg and Xander healing me, I’m fit as a flea. I cringe, and a nervous shiver runs up my spine. Well, for the time being, I’m no longer dying, and it’s amazing. Sooo amazing. I blow out a breath and wipe my sweaty palms on my grey jogging bottoms.
Crap, I’m scared.
Come on, Tru, you can do this. I rub my forehead with a frown. Of course the horn isn’t sticking out of the middle of my human head, but I can’t help giving my head a little rub. I didn’t realise how sore my forehead was until it wasn’t. It will take me a little while to get used to the feeling.
“Okay, let’s take this baby for a test drive,” I mumble.
Story gives me an awkward thumbs-up. I fake smile and nudge some moss that’s clinging to Story’s flowerpot with the toe of my trainer.
I don’t know what a horse with a horn is going to do.
The huge animal form will not help me track or help with the potential fight against a powerful witch.
It’s not like the form is sweet and compact. A horse is huge.
But shifter 101—turning into your animal form and popping back human—is how shifters heal, so I have to learn to do this.
I’d be naive if I thought I’d get away with hunting this witch down without sustaining any injuries. Hurting myself is a given. Not that I’m going to walk up to the witch and shout “hey you”—pointy finger—“give me back my horn.” Nope, I have a much sneakier plan.
Yep, with that scary thought, I better hop to it. So I’m going to keep my clothes on, see what happens. I might have to do a naked dash back into the house later, but… Yeah, perhaps I need a spare set of clothes? I gnaw on my lip. If I leave to go grab them, I might not try again, so stuff it.
Let’s do this.
I shouldn’t be able to shift—I’m not technically old enough—but I can feel the shifter magic bubbling away underneath my skin. Either it’s the fancy new horn, or with the unicorn power flowing through my veins my body remembers what my father did to me as a kid and it knows what to do.
I close my eyes and allow the power to whoosh out of me.
The surrounding air grows warm, and like a character from Star Trek being beamed up, my molecules separate… and… then they go back together in my other form.
Magic.
I stand on four feet, no, four hooves. I glance down, and the sudden movement of my head and neck makes my legs wobble, and my whole body tilts to the left. Ooh, I lock my knees. When I don’t fall over, I take a steadying breath.
Oh heck, this is scary.
I don’t move another muscle, I just roll my eyeballs to the floor so I can inspect my feet. Ooh pretty, my hooves are an iridescent colour, like the inside of a mother-of-pearl shell, and what I can see of my front legs—forelegs—they’re white.
I brace my big body this time before I slowly lift my head. My head and neck seem to affect my balance. I swallow, and everything from my tongue to my throat feels weird. Isn’t this supposed to feel natural? This does not feel natural, not at all.
My head moves, and I notice something flapping.
Oh my god, what the hell is that! Do not freak out, Tru.
Even though my heart is pounding in my chest and adrenaline is sloshing through my veins.
I make myself look at the flappy thing. I almost go cross-eyed.
As I slowly, ever so slowly, angle my head, the fabric flutters.
I blink, are those… Are those my knickers?
I snort.
Yes, my knickers have somehow attached themselves to my borrowed horn.
Ha, my pants almost scared the shit out of me. I move just my eyes to see the rest of my clothing is intact on the floor, no ripping. That’s handy. Maybe next time when I shift I might move to the side as I do to avoid spearing my clothes. I grin.
Dexter meanders across the limestone patio flags.
He completely ignores unicorn me, and instead, he nimbly pounces on the bundle.
He paws and sniffs my clothes, arranging them just so, and then the cheeky cat flops into the middle of the pile, closes his eyes, and tilts his head towards the weak autumn sun.
I brace myself, then violently nod my head up and down. My underwear drops to the floor. It lands on top of Dexter, and with an indignant growl, he rolls on his back, attacking the fabric with his claws and teeth. Yeah, you killed it, Dex.
Curious, I turn my head so I can see my fur, and my coat on both sides is the same fancy pure white as my legs. I’m so white I almost glow. I’m also big. If I stretch my neck, I can see easily over the ten-foot garden wall.
Okay, now movement. I lift my leg and take a tiny step forward. Wow, walking on four legs is a strange sensation. I glance at Story to see her reaction, and she’s staring at me with her mouth wide open.
“Oh my god, Tru,” Story squeaks, pointing behind me. I frown. Weird. Have I broken her? There’s nothing behind me, I would have noticed. I’m too fascinated with this new form to work out what she is freaking out about.
I swish my bum… urm… hindquarters? I roll my eyes—whatever the term—and my tail whips between my back legs. It is the same multicoloured hue as my human hair.
Story continues to point frantically.
Yeah, I know, Story. I’m gorgeous. I waggle my ears—ooh, that’s a weird sensation. They rotate—oh, and they go back flat against my head. I smile a toothy grin.
When I have time, I’ll go somewhere where I can shift and run, where I can take my time to learn this new form…
My excited thoughts grind to a halt. No, I won’t.
My heart sinks. I can’t. This isn’t my magic, it’s on loan from a guilty man.
I shuffle my hooves. Unless I can get my own magic back, I can’t canter about in a field full of wildflowers while stopping to snack on lush grass and clover.
I don’t want to know what it feels like to be whole and free, to gallop about with the wind in my hair and my hooves churning up the ground.
Knowing what that feels like and then losing it would break me.
No, I’ve learnt to shift. That’s enough to get my horn back.
And if I don’t, if I fail… Well, I look up at the sky.
My eyes are doing their best to leak. That’s why I know Denby Jones, my bio-grandfather isn’t trying to trick me with the name and the details of the witch, especially with Jodie’s confirmation.
That man is doing serious penance. I’ve added him to my list of people I don’t want to let down.
Come hell or high water, Denby Jones will get his horn back.
A bouncing pixie gets my attention. “You have… you have…,” Story sputters.
I have? I have what?
It’s then that I see the feather.
My hooves clatter to the side, and with the jerky movement, I notice the heavy weight on my back. What the fuckety fuck? I turn my head, and my long neck helps me see… I do a double take and then an entire body shudder.
I have wings.
I blink. Wide-eyed, I straighten my neck, and my eyes swivel so I can stare down at the gurgling pixie. Unfortunately, I am not seeing things.
I let out a squeak, and a frightened equine sound echoes around the enclosed garden.
The back utility room door bursts open, and Xander clutching a sword storms outside. I weirdly hold up a hoof as if to stop him. We both look at my foot. I sheepishly place it back on the ground.
He prowls forward as he scans the garden for danger. When he finds nothing, the sword disappears into white smoke and his eyes land on me. His honey eyes soften as he takes me in, and then they widen when he notices my new appendages.
He moves to the side as he stares at my back, and my shoulder blades itch.
“That’s interesting,” he says.
No shit.
I never had wings before. When I was a kid, I never had wings. Urm, unicorns don’t. They don’t have wings… of all the freaky things to happen. Did my evil grandfather do something to the horn? Am I cursed?
I must be cursed. I wheeze. Oh God, I’m hyperventilating. Can unicorns have panic attacks?
Then it clicks.
The angel blood. I drank Xander’s blood, and this is the consequence to my shifter side.
Shit, angel blood gives you wings.