17. I was beginning to believe a miracle would be required. #2
I’d always wondered how Bailey moved so easily as a cindercorn, and I ultimately came to the conclusion some form of magic handled the basics. I should’ve had trouble coordinating four hooves, a horn, retractable claws, and my large mass around. In reality, I barely thought about it.
Instead, I contemplated the many ways I could warm up and light the building on fire. When I snorted, trails of flame escaped my nose.
“No fire yet,” Bailey scolded. “I know look well.”
I bet she did, as I was usually the one telling her not to light things on fire without a good reason. “In the future, I’m going to be more considerate about your interest in committing acts of arson.”
“Lies,” she muttered, and she bumped against me and rubbed her nose beneath my chin. “You still scold when I make fire.”
“But I’ll be much more understanding and considerate about your general compulsion to burn things. I really find this entire building offensive.”
“That be-cause Janet inside and your terr-i-tory vi-o-lated.”
As she spoke nothing but the truth, I didn’t argue with her. I eyed the central dome of the mine complex. “Can I burn it after we help Janet?”
“That is idea,” my wife replied, her tone amused. “How much nay-palm Devil give you?”
“A lot.”
“How much a lot?”
“Several bathtubs filled,” I confessed.
“You be so hung-over later. Me take mercy, get you or-ange pills. You feel drunk?”
“Not yet.”
“Yet key-word. Soon. Take time. Once you make fire, it fun! I jealous.”
Of course she was, and she would be until she remembered just how bad her hangovers got. “If I don’t burn too much I won’t get drunk or hungover?”
“No know. Not try? We try later?”
The CDC wouldn’t like that experiment at all, and for that reason alone, I’d see about finding some way to try it. Maybe the Devil would invite us to his house and let us hit up his napalm supply and go on a real rampage. What was a little more fire in hell? “I’ll think about it.”
“Today best day ever.”
I refrained from laughing, as I’d heard Bailey’s laughter as a cindercorn often enough to understand we’d inform everyone inside we were here if I whinnied in earnest. “So, Janet is in the dome?”
“Trail end at dome. Must be?” Bailey lifted a hoof, and I assumed she tried to point at the bag of neutralizer hanging around her neck. “Prob-ably pet-ri-fied. I fix that. You can fix, too. You gor-gon.”
If my newfound uncle was to be believed, Bailey would find her, go on a rampage, and trigger whatever magic destined to drive me insane, worry me, and require me to be a conduit so she could find her way home.
The how of it worried me almost as much as the reality of it happening.
Too many of my divine relatives all agreed.
It would happen.
I wanted to take her home to prevent it, but it wouldn’t work out. We needed to help Janet.
“It’s easier with neutralizer, but yes. I can help reverse the petrification,” I replied. I would need to be very careful until I transformed to a different shape. Fire and statues didn’t mix well. “When you snort, is it hot enough to melt stone?”
“No worry about Janet. Must do on purpose to hurt statue. Snort no hurt unless you snort too hard. It okay, Quinn. I show you how to be good uni-corn. You big, hand-some uni-corn. I play much with you later.”
I loved my wife, but she had a one-track mind at times, although I fully intended to indulge her at the earliest opportunity.
I suspected the Devil had fiddled beyond his claims, as under any other situation, I would’ve been inclined to indulge before rescuing Janet.
I needed to figure out the trick to that.
When Bailey was around, I often thought about indulging.
On second thought, I needed to figure out how we’d be able to work together without our breaks involving inappropriate behavior while at work.
Hmm.
“Where do you think we should look first?” I asked, careful to keep my voice quiet so we wouldn’t draw attention early.
“Into dome. If we find someone, try to petrify?”
I nodded. I could petrify someone while human, but it was harder; I hoped the same applied as a cindercorn. Then again, if push came to shove, I could transform and join Bailey’s rampage as her personal gorgon-incubus doohickey.
The thought made me unreasonably happy, and I nipped her shoulder. “Lead the way,” I ordered. “Sooner we done, sooner I take you.” I flicked an ear and eyed her. “Home.”
“You can take me any-where, thank you,” she replied in her most solemn voice. Lifting her head high, she eased into a ground-eating trot, heading for the dimly illuminated dome. “Try not fall behind, Quinn. No be slow.”
Bailey
A steel door barred me from entering the dome, and I glared at the obstruction. “Doors dumb.”
Quinn backed away from the door, eyed one of the nearby windows, and continued to back up, his ears turning back.
“Too small,” I warned him, as his beautiful but large body would have trouble enough getting even through the door. While cindercorns were remarkably durable, he’d have to contort and pancake himself to fit through the window. I might make it through if I jumped just right—or waited until dawn.
I had no intentions of waiting until dawn to rescue Janet.
Quinn ignored me, snorted flame, and charged towards the building.
He jumped and plowed through the window, taking out a large chunk of the wall with him.
The hole smoked, and I expected the building would catch fire without my husband having to breathe flame.
Inside, I heard a rather loud thump, likely from my husband smacking into another wall and the wall winning.
That would hurt later.
Without much other choice, I followed him in, careful to pick my target and jump with much greater accuracy and less force.
Inside, I discovered my husband had rammed his head directly into a wall, resulting in his horn becoming stuck.
“I love you, but you idiot,” I informed him. “You drunk idiot.”
“Maybe,” my husband conceded. He lifted a hoof, pressed it to the wall, and yanked. After several tries, he popped free and fell over. “Okay, definitely.”
As he credited me when I did something right for a rare change, I nuzzled his neck. “But we inside. You good but cray-zee, Quinn. You just drunk. Would say go home, but two is bet-ter than one, and Janet need help. Cray-zee, drunk Quinn.”
“Says the woman who went on a napalm bender and torched a skyscraper. I’m just following your example.”