20. You can eat this nice steak instead of my hand.
TWENTY
You can eat this nice steak instead of my hand.
A heat lamp lured me out of the cruiser.
With a contented sigh, I curled around it and went to sleep.
A stronger source of heat roused me, and I lifted my head seeking it.
A bright point of fire caught my eye. I staggered to my feet to get closer to it.
A cop dangled a raw, bloody piece of steak in front of a blowtorch, and the scent of searing meat woke my hunger.
I pursued the man to a horse trailer, snapping my teeth at the treat.
“That’s right, come on in. I got some nice warm blankets for you in here, and you can eat this nice steak instead of my hand,” he murmured, his tone soothing.
My desire for the steak got me into the trailer, and while I flattened my ears, I resisted the temptation to nip him.
I took the steak gently with my teeth and held it in my mouth while hunting for a spot to set it down so I could rip chunks off it.
I spotted a generator near the back of the trailer and plopped the steak on it, lifted my hoof, and pinned the meat so I could devour it.
Two braver cops strapped a horse blanket on me and added heated blankets on top of it. I licked the generator clean, my head nodding as the warmth seeped into me.
Instead of jail, the cops took me to a stable with an indoor arena.
Large, overhead lamps heated the air, and a ring of heat lamps warmed a circle of sand.
I waited long enough for an amused cop to strip the blankets off me before I charged the circle, hopped over a lamp, and went to work digging a hole so I could bury myself in the sand.
Perfect.
The cops needed a gold star or whatever they got when they did a good job.
Tucking my hooves close to my body and resting my nose near my belly, I basked in the heat and returned to the serious business of dozing off.
I cracked open an eye whenever anyone approached.
Most of them were curious cops, and they stayed outside of my ring of heat lamps.
The two men in suits worried me. I lifted my head, turned my ears back, and bared my teeth in warning. Neither showed sign of leaving, and they stared at me. I stared back.
One of the cops joined the duo.
“You’re definitely correct, Officer Andrews. That is definitely a blazer—a cindercorn, as you call it.”
A second cop trudged across the sand and joined the group. “Did I miss anything?”
“No, sir. We’ve determined she’s a female, but this is the first time she’s been responsive or interested in us.”
I assumed the new cop was a higher rank than the first to warrant the sir, so I focused my attention on him. “That’s probably a good thing. Rumor has it the males are meaner.”
Officer Andrews shrugged.
I snorted, and smoke trailed from my nostrils. “No proof. No close stud-ee. All stud-ee know is u-nee-corn eat meat, burn, like fire. Warm-er now. Thank you.”
The humans stared at me in slack-jaw shock.
Was my talking that startling?
The higher-ranked cop sighed, lifted his hand, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right. There’s only one talking, fire-breathing unicorn I know of, and she was kidnapped from New York last week. Eight days ago.”
“Last week?” I squealed, lurching to my hooves and whinnying my alarm. “So long? Eight days? Where? Where?”
How could it have been so long? My mind blanked as I struggled to account for so many days.
“We’re in Vermont.”
I paced in a circle, whinnied again, and bucked so the world could witness my fury. “Ver-mont!”
Snorting smoke, I pawed at the sand and trembled with rage. I expected to lose a day or two due to the sedative, but the realization I’d been gone for eight days horrified me. What had happened to Quinn?
Was Quinn all right?
Officer Andrews gaped at me while the other cop pulled his cell from his pocket, dialed a number, and held it to his ear.
“Request a copy of the Quinn file from the NYPD. We might have a hit. Can you confirm the key points about the woman taken from Chief Quinn’s suite?
In particular, I want to know if there was any evidence of A+ transformative substances—”
“D,” I corrected. “D grade pills, may-be ten? May-be more? No re-mem-ber count, new stash. A+++ vial pixie dust, may-be broke. I cer-tee-fied with CDC.”
There. I covered my furry ass. Maybe I wouldn’t go to jail after all.
“It seems I’m being corrected. D grade trans, a possible vial of pixie dust, A+++.
That does explain a lot. Yes, the unicorn is talking to us and appears to be coherent.
When she was brought to the stable, she was rather lethargic.
She bordered on non-responsive when she stuck her head in one of my cruisers. ”
I pricked my ears forward and stood still. “You chee-fuh of po-leese?”
“One moment, the unicorn is asking me a question. Yes, I’m the chief.”
With a squeal, I tossed my head and stomped my hoof. “You bring me my chief, yes? Bring!”
“And now she’s whinnying at me and demanding her chief. I’m assuming she means Chief Quinn, as she was in his hotel room.”
Did they not know Quinn belonged to me? “Bring me Quinn. Mine. Mine. Bring. Bring my hus-band. Bring!”
Again, the men gawked at me. The chief recovered first and cleared his throat. “When you’re getting information from the Quinn file, could you please inquire on Chief Quinn’s marital status? In particular, could you ask if he is married to a unicorn?”
“You idiot. I human. Change back later. Call CDC. Pro-fess-ur Yale teach you proper care of u-nee-corn. You bring me my chief. Mine. No share. Mine.”
The chief chuckled. “I’m being scolded by a unicorn, and she just called me an idiot.”
“If you bring me my chief, I no call you idiot.” I thought it was a reasonable offer, but if he was going to start cooperating, I’d give him some helpful advice on the proper care of a unicorn.
“You bring me meat, I no call you idiot. You bring me nay-palm snack, I like you a lot. Cee-four? I like gas-oh-leen. Yes, bring me food. Hun-gree.”
“I can’t even make this shit up, but the unicorn is asking for meat, napalm, C4, and gasoline.”
Satisfied the police chief understood my demands, I curled up in my hole, showed them my sharp, pointy teeth, and waited for them to cooperate.
Due to its stable nature, the cops opted to feed me treats of C4 rolled into little balls, as anyone could handle the clay-like substance without risking accidental detonation.
I doubted it would blow even if they dropped a piece directly onto the heat lamps.
A CDC rep oversaw the explosives; I guessed he had brought about five delicious pounds.
They used it as bribes to ensure my cooperation. One pound doled out in marble-sized pieces bought three vets enough time to do a head-to-hoof examination.
It took another pound to convince me to allow them to shave off my fur so they could give me fifty-seven stitches.
I ended up losing more than half my fur to remove bloodied mats.
I resembled a poodle, and I wailed my dismay.
A third pound of C4 bought four dog groomers enough time to finish the job so I looked like a nice poodle rather than a scraggly one.
I voiced my anguish as low, quiet moans between offerings of C4.
Without my precious fur to protect me, I froze whenever I strayed from the heat lamps.
“Cruel,” I accused, huddling as close as I could to the lamps without knocking them over.
The police chief, a middle-aged man who went by the name of Hollands, sighed. “You were covered in blood and needed stitches. You’re lucky you didn’t break your legs along with your ribs.”
Chief Hollands sounded a lot like my Quinn when he was irritated. “My chief. Where is he?”
“He’s on his way, Mrs. Quinn. He should be here soon.”
I pawed at the sand, arranged it around my hole to my liking, and curled inside. “Move lamp closer, please? Cold.”
With the help of Officer Andrews, Chief Hollands moved the lamps closer until I had a blazing red shield cocooning me.
“Your friend Professor Yale told me you’d have problems in this weather.
He suggested we keep you talking until Chief Quinn arrives.
If you go back to sleep, we will have a very difficult time waking you until we can get the temperature up—and shy of lighting a bonfire in here, he seems to think we won’t be able to get you warm enough using our lamps. ”
If the cop wanted me to talk, I could talk. I nosed the sand over my hooves and legs to keep them warm. “Audrey McGee did this. Turn me into poodle. Don’t want to be a poodle.”
“Yes, we’re aware of Audrey McGee’s involvement in your kidnapping. She was spotted nearby the Plaza. I’m unable to share details with you at this point, but if you could fill me in on what you remember, it would be helpful.”
“She work with in-cu-bus. He seemed drugged. In-cu-bus not in con-trol of fac-ul-tees.”
“Take it from the top. Begin in the Plaza, please.”
“Quinn’s cops bring us to Plaza. He talk to front desk.
I go to room. I open door. Hear pop. Blue pow-dur in face.
Lights go out. Woke in warehouse with gor-gon and in-cu-bus.
Pan-eeked, ate pills. Vial may-be leak during pan-eek.
I run. No want to be gor-gon bay-bee fac-tor-ee.
I run. Hit trans-port. Sor-ree. I pay fix? I run. No see trans-port.”
“The transport was equipped with a moose grill. It won. The grill will need replaced, but the transport was otherwise undamaged. The driver, a single woman in her early twenties, has expressed her appreciation over the situation.”
Well, at least someone had enjoyed my nightmare. I sighed. “Trans-port won. I sad.”
“Would another steak help?”
I lifted my head. “I like steak.”
Chief Hollands tossed me a raw t-bone, which I caught. It took a bit of work and several snorts to clean my foreleg of sand so I could use it to hold my snack while I gnawed through the bone and gulped down the meat.