 
## **Contents**

Synopsis

Copyright

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Necessary Magic

Wolf and Unicorn, Book One

by Val St. Crowe

Seventeen years ago, the human realm collided with a magic world. Now, humans skulk in the shadows of the witches and their werewolf servants—who control the magic of the Hallows—and the opposing faction of the unicorns—who are potent beasts, fierce and terrifyingly beautiful.

When scavenger and thief Bree West is captured and handed over to a herd of unicorns, her only thought is escape. But the creatures are both terrible and ethereal, and being with them is a sweet ache. She begins to feel as though she is meant to be here. Her presence makes the unicorns stronger, and they are the only ones on earth strong enough to stand against the cruel and brutal witches. Perhaps being with the unicorns is the first step to bringing freedom to the new world.

Werewolf Jack Bastian serves as the witches' weapon because he has no choice. Rakish and aloof, Jack has been having dreams about a girl and unicorns. He always wakes with a pang, sure the dreams mean something, but he can't afford to let those feelings affect him. Jack survives by obeying his commands and not giving a damn who he hurts.

When the high witch learns of Bree and her unicorns, she demands that Jack destroy her. He cannot disobey.

Even if Bree is the girl from the dreams.
NECESSARY MAGIC

© copyright 2017 by Val St.Crowe

http://vjchambers.com

Punk Rawk Books

Please do not copy or post this book in its entirety or in parts anywhere. You may, however, share the entire book with a friend by forwarding the entire file to them. (And I won't get mad.)

Necessary Magic

Wolf and Unicorn, Book One

Val St. Crowe

CHAPTER ONE

"Come on, guys, it's not funny anymore," said Zoe Patterson in a weak voice. She'd been following the light in the woods ahead of her for what seemed like a very long time. Now, she was deep out in the wild woods, and there was nothing around her on any side but tall tree trunks and dark shadows of foliage.

Only a short time ago, she'd been around a bonfire with some friends, drinking beer. She'd gone out to the cooler to get another can of beer, and she'd seen a light out in the distance. Not too far away, only a few feet. It was behind a tree branch. She'd called out, asked who was there. There had been no response.

Why had she followed the light?

At the time, it had seemed like an excellent idea. The light had called to her somehow, sang to something deep inside her body, and she had responded, gone after the light immediately.

Somehow, she'd managed to convince herself it was a flashlight, that it was one of her friends playing tricks on her. She tried to convince herself of it even now.

But if that were true, she needed to stop following the light, turn around, and go back the way she came. And she found that she didn't exactly want to turn away from the light. She wanted to catch it. She'd been following it all this way because she had an inexplicable desire for it.

She wasn't backing off now.

Even though she was beginning to realize that this light she was following couldn't be connected to any of her friends, couldn't be part of an elaborate prank.

That light was magic.

Zoe knew about magic, but she'd never seen much of it. She'd only been a small child when the Collision happened. She didn't remember the world without magic, before the Collision, but her parents did. They didn't trust magic, and they didn't trust the witches. Zoe had spent her life in a small settlement of humans, who lived out in the wild lands, far from the witches' reach.

The witches liked the comfort of the cities, and they employed humans to make all the things that they had come to love about this world—cars, computers, and pizza.

Zoe had never known any of those things, not really. She'd spent her whole life cut off, hiding from the witches. Not that there weren't dangers out here in the wild lands. There were the unicorns, for instance. They didn't much like humans and would only bargain with them to get what they wanted. And there were the roaming hordes of wolfwraiths, humans who had been bitten by werewolves and gone insane. The werewolves themselves tended to stay close to the cities and the witches who were their mistresses.

But the truth was, she was closer now to a city than she'd ever been in her whole life.

Keeping her eyes on the light, she continued through the forest. She must catch that thing soon. She needed to catch it. There was a strange stirring within her, a longing like nothing she'd ever felt.

Grown now, Zoe had struck out on her own, left the settlement she'd grown up in. Her friends had convinced her that going to one of the cities wouldn't be so bad. They said that working for the witches provided luxuries that she'd never known, things like electricity and television and the Internet. They said those things were worth whatever the hardships were. Sure, the witches were known to be harsh taskmasters who didn't value human life, but what kind of life did they have out here, anyway, hiding like animals?

Ahead of her, abruptly, the light stopped. It bobbed in the air, as if taunting her.

Zoe rushed forward. She was four feet from the light. Three.

It winked out.

She stopped, her heart thudding in her chest, the air chill against her skin, which was flush from drinking alcohol and from hurrying after the light. "Where...?" she whispered. Where had the light gone?

"Here," said a voice.

She whirled.

Behind her was the most enormous wolf she had ever seen. He was all white, white and glowing, just as the light had been. He stalked toward her, head down, eyes glinting in the moonlight overhead.

She backed up, arms going around her belly instinctively. She wanted to protect her vital organs from his teeth—his long, sharp, white teeth.

"Hello," said the wolf.

It talked. A talking wolf. She had heard that the werewolves were different from the wolfwraiths, but she had never seen one. Her pulse pounded at her wrists, at her temple. "Please," she said in a breathless voice.

The wolf stopped moving, inches from her. "Please what?"

"Please, don't hurt me," she said.

The wolf chuckled. It was very odd hearing such a knowing, gentle laugh come from a wolf's mouth. "You don't know who I am, then? I thought that all of you humans spun stories about me, from before the Collision, even. You know that there were tears and rips between our worlds, that some of us came and went between them?"

Zoe couldn't speak. She just shook her head.

"They call me Jack of the Lantern," said the wolf. "Jack the Tempter. Jack the Seducer. You've never heard of me?"

She licked her lips. "Jack-o'-lantern? Like Halloween?" She knew the witches' magic was called the power of The Hallows, and she had heard stories of the old holiday. Amongst her outpost, it was no longer celebrated. They called it celebrating the enemy.

He inclined his head. "Indeed. I've hidden my little light in hollow gourds before, and I'm told your people took up the practice, either to call in those like me or to ward me off, I'm not sure which. I've always found that quite charming."

She swallowed.

"Well," said Jack, "if you've never heard of me, I suppose I shall have to enlighten you. I leave my light out to lure what I can into the woods, and then I feed. I can feed on flesh, or fear, or..." He stepped closer, and his wolf form seemed to flicker, and she could see a naked man beneath, one with wild, wild eyes. "Pleasure," he breathed.

She stepped back again. She tripped over a branch and went sprawling on her backside.

Jack chuckled again, now a full wolf again. He stepped closer, and now he was towering over her, because she was lying on the forest floor. "Which will it be?"

"Couldn't you... not feed at all?" she squeaked.

He sniffed her, his nose going into her armpit. "You smell of fear. Delicious fear."

She tried to scramble away from him.

But he caught her with his gaze, with his wild eyes, and she was frozen there, gazing at him, her body shot full of terror like she'd never felt.

It went on an on, twisting down horrid corridors, opening doors that filled her with fresh panic, excruciating fear that made her sweat and gasp and whimper.

When it was done, she fell to the ground, her limbs loose and useless. She gazed at the starry sky with unseeing eyes.

"Tell the others about me, won't you?" said Jack, stepping over her motionless form. "It is tiresome to have to educate my meals."

* * *

Kenneth Hughes was still in his pajamas and not in the mood to be dealing with the likes of Elmer Myers and Henry Ford. He had been the leader of Harmony Village practically since the Collision, and back in the first days, when they were still fighting for every inch of land they could get, tangling with waves of wolfwraiths nearly every day, men like this had been necessary. They were rough men, strong men, not necessarily bright men, however. He had hoped that age would scour off their harsh edges, but it hadn't.

Now, they were nearly forty, and they were still the kind of men who got drunk and rowdy and made women feel uncomfortable.

His wife Martha didn't like the outposts, didn't like the men coming back with tales of whores and scavenger women, but Kenneth thought it was better all around if the men found a release. He didn't want them to bother people's daughters and wives, because he still owed these men for their service back in those first days, and he couldn't very well kick them out of Harmony.

Still, he really wished they hadn't awakened him. He stood at the doorway to his house, which had once been one of those McMansions in a planned community before the Collision. Now, this subdivision was Harmony, and it was surrounded by fences and sentries.

Elmer and Henry were on the front stoop, and both of them had big open wounds on their faces, as if they'd been cut. Between them, they were dragging a girl. She had long dark hair that was tangled around her face, and her wrists were lashed together. She couldn't have been older than eighteen, but she didn't look frightened. Instead, she looked defiant. She was probably one of the scavenger women. Why they'd tied her up and brought her here he couldn't fathom. Even when the scavengers did underhanded things like steal or cheat, which they were wont to do, they were outside the laws of the various human villages and outside the purview of the witches in the cities. There could be no formal retaliation from Kenneth.

Kenneth rubbed his forehead. "It's late, gentlemen." He purposefully called them gentlemen, even though they were anything but.

"We realize that, Boss," said Elmer.

Kenneth sighed. He wished that they'd stop calling him that. Made him sound like some sort of mafia don or something. "Well, if you realize it, why are you disturbing my family and me in the middle of the night?"

"This is important," said Henry. "We thought you'd want to know right away."

Kenneth raised his eyebrows. How important could it really be? And what was this girl doing here? "What happened to your faces?"

"Oh, that was the girl," said Henry. "She put up a bit of a fight."

"Had a knife," said Elmer.

The girl struggled, gritting her teeth.

"Why are you bringing me a girl?" said Kenneth. Especially one who fought with a knife? Had she hurt someone? Killed someone?

"We won't have to have a lottery this time," said Elmer grinning.

Henry thrust the girl forward. "We just send this one instead."

"You two do understand that the unicorns need virgins?" Kenneth was flabbergasted. How idiotic could the men be? The scavengers were happy to find money however they could. They went into the old towns that were too small for the witches to bother with, gathered up old electronics, wood, cans of food, anything they could scavenge, and they sold it for as high a price as they could fetch. But if there was nothing to scavenge, they weren't above selling other things, and most of the women did a steady business selling their bodies as well. A scavenger girl was hardly fit to send the unicorns as tribute.

"She's a virgin," said Elmer. "We know this one."

"It's true," said Henry. "She had an older sister. Wouldn't ever let a man get near this one. Sister's dead now, though, and without anyone to protect her, she was easy to capture."

The girl shot a venomous glance first at Henry and then at Elmer. "Why don't you let me go, and we'll give it another go? I'll take you both together."

Kenneth held up his hand. "You can't be sure this girl is a virgin."

"Believe me, we are positive," said Elmer. "We came upon her with her older sister, two minutes before the sister turned."

The girl's face twitched.

"Turned into a wolfwraith?" said Kenneth. "What if she's infected? I can't believe you brought—"

"Not infected," said the girl, fire in her voice. "You think I'm an idiot? I promised my sister I'd never let her become one of those things, and I killed her the minute the change took over. These two grabbed me in my grief." She struggled. "You're trash, both of you."

Kenneth felt his heart go out to the poor girl. Back in the first days after the invasion, he'd had to kill his share of friends and loved ones who'd been bitten. He knew the horror of that feeling firsthand. Even the toughest man could hardly adequately defend himself in the wake of something so traumatic. Elmer and Henry were certainly trash. But if what they were saying was true... Kenneth stroked his beard. "Are you a virgin, girl?"

"That's none of your damned business," said the girl. "I thought you were supposed to be civilized in the villages. You have to let me go."

Kenneth swallowed. It was a nasty business, giving the unicorns their tribute, but it was something they had to do if they wanted to maintain their permanent home. The unicorns protected them from the witches and werewolves, but only if they had a virgin.

He didn't know what the unicorns did with virgins, and there was no pattern to how often they demanded one. Sometimes years and years passed with no demands. Sometimes they needed a new one in a matter of months. Whatever happened, the girls were never seen again.

Only a few days ago, Jonquil, the unicorn he always dealt with, had appeared in the village asking for another virgin. That meant that Kenneth had to hold a lottery, draw from a hat, and send some random girl off to the unicorns—probably to her death.

But here was another girl, a girl that wasn't the child or sister of anyone in the village. It was going to happen to someone, why not let it happen to an outsider?

Kenneth let out a noisy breath. "If you're wrong, if the unicorns smell her and she's been with a man, you know that our trust is broken with them."

"We're not wrong," said Elmer.

The girl gritted her teeth. "My name is Bree," she said suddenly. "I was born two years before The Collision and both my parents died on the day. It was always only me and my sister, and she's gone. This is the worst day of my life. Please. If you have any shred of human decency within you, make these men let me go."

Kenneth flinched. "I'm sorry, Bree."

She shut her eyes, and she didn't look defiant and tough anymore. Only young and scared and sad.

Kenneth looked away. He hadn't gotten to be the leader of this village being soft. Someone had to make hard decisions. He felt sorry for the girl. He did. But that didn't matter. He had a responsibility to this community first and foremost. He had to keep the daughters of Harmony safe. Bree wasn't from Harmony. She wasn't his responsibility. He reached out and took Bree by the arm. He tugged her away from Elmer and Henry. "All right. If you promise me you are absolutely positive she's a virgin."

Henry and Elmer both nodded vigorously.

"We're sure," said Elmer. "We swear it."

"Come with me," said Kenneth to Bree, and he guided her inside his house.

CHAPTER TWO

High Mistress Zhanna Seale of the Broom glared at the white wolf as it loped over the threshold of her bedchamber. The room was lavish and huge, high on the top floor of the highest skyscraper in New Ansel. Zhanna'd had these rooms redone especially for her nearly twenty years ago, in the wake of the Collision. She understood that the human government had ruled from some place called Washertown or something equally dirty sounding, but near as she could see New Ansel was the center of everything, and that was why she'd set up her court here.

She didn't meet with every werewolf in her service in her bedchamber, but Jack Bastian was different. Jack Bastian was powerful. And Jack Bastian was essentially her lapdog. He came when she called, he sat when she snapped her fingers, and he shook hands on command if she commanded it.

At least, he was supposed to. This evening, she'd been kept waiting. It had been nearly forty minutes since she'd sent for Jack.

"Where have you been?" said Zhanna. She was sprawled on top of her king-sized bed, running her fingers over the plush red velvet bedspread, her body sinking into rows and rows of velvet pillows. If she hadn't been so angry, she might have enjoyed the comfort of the bed.

Jack jumped up onto the bed and stared at her.

She sat up and ran a careless hand through his soft fur. "You know you aren't to keep me waiting, snookums," she crooned.

He bared his teeth at her, letting out just a hint of a growl. He did so hate it when she spoke to him like an animal, and that was why she did it, and why she demanded he spend most of his time in her presence in wolf form. It was all part of the way she controlled him. Jack should never be allowed to think of himself as a man, not a real man, anyway. He was a pet. He was a servant. He was a toy.

She smacked his muzzle. "Bad dog."

He snarled at her.

She giggled. "Well, you're here now, aren't you? I suppose we might as well let it be. But if you keep me waiting again..." She let her voice trailed off threateningly. She had long ago discovered it was more effective to keep her threats nonspecific. It allowed her subjects to imagine all kinds of awful things, much worse than she herself could come up with.

Jack jumped off the bed.

"Get back up here," she said in a severe voice.

He didn't.

She sat up straight, smiling down at him. "I have a job for you, Jack. One you'll enjoy. Come up here with your mistress and let me stroke you." She patted the bed next to her body.

Jack settled on his haunches, regarding her coolly. "How about you just tell me what you need done."

She stuck out her lower lip. "Doesn't snookums like being stroked?" She liked keeping him in a state of confusion sexually as well, pretending to come onto him in wolf form. She knew that the human part of him was disgusted by an animal/human pairing, and she liked disgusting him. She liked causing him any kind of discomfort she could.

"You know that I have to serve you, Zhanna," said Jack.

"You know that you should address me as High Mistress," she countered.

"High Mistress," he repeated, and his tone was laced with venom. "I will carry out your every command. But I don't care for your games."

"And yet I have repeatedly asked you to come up on the bed next to me, and you refuse my commands."

"What is the job?"

She reached over to the end table next to her bed and brushed her fingers over a whip that lay there. "Maybe you need a bit of convincing."

He snarled again, but he jumped up on the bed and lay down next to her. Somehow, even as he submitted, he retained an air of superiority. It made her even angrier. If she hadn't needed his services tonight, she might have taken some time to try again to teach him manners. But there was no time, not tonight. Even now, the banquet was underway downstairs.

She ran her fingers through his pelt. "Mistress Ruby Wallace."

"What about her?" said Jack, and she could hear his annoyance with her petting him in his tone.

"Do you think she's attractive?"

"No," said Jack.

"No?" Zhanna scoffed. "I think she is. Most men would. I think you do as well."

Jack sighed, a funny noise coming from a wolf. "Am I a gift or a weapon, High Mistress?"

Zhanna giggled again. "Why, a weapon, of course."

"You want her broken or dead?"

"I want you to give her the most intense pleasure that she has ever experienced," said Zhanna. She scratched him behind his ears. "And when she has crested to the peak of it, I want you to rip apart her mind and leave her nothing but a husk of her former self."

No response from Jack.

"Well?" said Zhanna.

"You want me to say something? Perhaps you want me to agree? As if I could refuse you."

She seized a handful of his fur.

He yelped.

She leaned close, whispering in his ear. "I find your lack of respect most troubling, Mr. Bastian."

"My apologies, High Mistress," he replied, but he didn't sound the least bit sorry.

She released him. "Oh, fine then. Off with you. You must get changed, and the banquet is already underway. I want Mistress Ruby broken tonight."

* * *

Ruby Wallace had come of age only two years ago, but she had quickly made a name for herself in New Ansel, and there wasn't anyone in the court of High Mistress Zhanna who didn't know who she was. Why, even the High Mistress herself had spoken to Ruby on at least seven occasions, not that Ruby had been counting.

The young witch surveyed herself in the mirror in the bathroom outside the banquet she had come to attend that evening. Her black dress was impeccable, the latest fashion, rows and rows of intricate black lace, a tight bodice squeezing her cleavage to its fullest advantage. She wore a black conical hat on her head, decorated with the same lace as her dress and with rows of swirling black tulle. She had a veil as well, going over one eye. Her red hair hung around her shoulders in ringlets.

She looked stunning, and she knew it. She fussed over her makeup before exiting the bathroom and reentering the party. The room was decked out for the banquet with the glitz that had become expected in the wake of the Collision. The traditional signs of the witch—bats, owls, and cats—were represented in jewel-encrusted figurines that crowded all surfaces and hung from ornate black iron chandeliers. Humans in tails and white shirts moved through the room carrying silver serving trays of food and goblets of red wine. The witches milled amongst them in, dressed in voluminous dresses and cone hats like Ruby's. Each was decorated with sequins and lace and layers. The witches all tried to outdo each other. Every banquet required a new dress and hat, and there was no limit on how far the women would go.

Ruby picked up a canape from one of the tables and took a dainty bite.

She was here on a mission, and that was to make sure that she secured a spot as one of the High Mistress's ladies in waiting. She had been working on this particular goal for the past two months, and she'd sacrificed long and hard to get here.

Ruby wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty when necessary. She'd viewed the existing ladies as obstacles. Obstacles needed to be removed.

So, that was what Ruby had done. First, she'd removed one of the obstacles, Mistress Aurora Bay, by replacing the contraceptive potion she drank with something similar in taste and consistency but with no potency. Within a month, Mistress Aurora had to leave the service of High Mistress Zhanna, because she was pregnant.

But the High Mistress had not replaced Aurora with Ruby.

So, Ruby had tried again. This time, she targeted Mistress Octavia Lane. Waiting for another pregnancy simply took too long. This time, Ruby took the more direct route. Poison. With Octavia dead, the way was now clear for her to join the ranks of the ladies-in-waiting. She simply had to make a good impression tonight, before the High Mistress chose a replacement.

The only problem was the the High Mistress had still not come down for the banquet. She was hiding upstairs in her private suite, and no one had seen her all evening.

Ruby was beginning to think that she was going to have to find some excuse to go up there and speak to High Mistress Zhanna. She wasn't keen on the idea of having to get rid of a third lady-in-waiting.

"Mistress Ruby Wallace?" said a deep, silky voice from behind her.

She turned, coming face-to-face with Jack Bastian, the High Mistress's pet. Ruby had seen Jack before, but only from afar, never this close. The man was stunning. He had dark features and dark eyes. Thick, sable-colored lashes ringed his eyes. His shoulders were broad, his jaw strong. He had a feral masculinity to him, both exquisite and bestial at once. Even encased in velvet and silk as he was, his sleeves ringed in lace, he projected savagery.

He was holding two silver goblets and he offered one to her. "Thirsty, mistress?"

Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, this was a sign! No need to bother the High Mistress. Zhanna had obviously noticed her already. Why else would she send Jack to Ruby? She took the goblet. "Thank you, sir."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

She sipped at the wine. He was obviously a gift. She had heard from other witches about being gifted Jack Bastian for an evening. The witches went on about how skilled he was in bed, how he managed to evoke the most pleasure they had ever felt.

Dangerous pleasure, one witch had said. As if he's contemplating ripping your throat out with his teeth at every instant. But that only makes it sweeter when he makes you come.

That's because he is contemplating it, another had said. You know what he does to Zhanna's enemies.

But Ruby wouldn't even consider that option. There was no possibility that Jack had been sent to destroy her. She had covered her tracks too well, and there was no reason to think that her machinations had been uncovered. Besides, all witches were vicious in their ambition, at least the powerful ones. Ruby drained her wine glass and set it down.

Jack smiled at her, his eyes gleaming beneath his thick lashes. "Would you care to dance, mistress?"

She smiled back, coquettish. "Why play games, sir? We both know why it is you've come to talk to me."

"Is that so?" He was amused. Aloof. Mocking her?

No, that couldn't be. "You've come at the behest of the High Mistress."

"That's true," he said.

"Then let's retire to a bedchamber."

He shrugged, eloquent and disinterested. "If that is what you wish."

"Yes," she whispered, and anticipatory heat began to spread throughout her body.

* * *

Leah Hughes set the bread and cheese down in front of the girl in the basement. "I'm sorry, but my father says you have to stay tied up," she said. "I begged him to let me bring you something to eat, though. You look hungry."

The girl looked scrawny. She was one of those scavenger girls, and she lived out in the wilds. Leah couldn't help but find those girls interesting. It wasn't something she wanted for herself, but they always seemed so old and sophisticated. Living inside the village, she felt protected and weak. The scavengers seemed strong. This girl seemed so very strong, and she couldn't have been much older than Leah herself.

The girl eyed Leah with wary eyes. "You know what I'd rather have instead of bread?"

"Well, bread is all we really have right now," said Leah. "There's nothing left over from dinner last night. We ate it all. My mother made a casserole with potatoes and cream, and we just love it, and everyone had seconds, and—"

"I don't want food," said the girl. "I want to be free."

"Oh," said Leah. She stepped back, getting to her feet and brushing off her pajama pants.

"Do you know what they're going to do with me?" The girl had an intense look in her eyes.

Leah twisted her hands together.

"They're going to send me to the unicorns."

Leah nodded. "Yes. That's what they do. Six months ago, we had to send Annica Pierce, because she lost the lottery, and no one's seen her since. If the unicorns want you, it's because they don't have her anymore."

"Which means what? That they killed her?"

"I don't know. No one does."

The girl tried to get to her feet, but her feet were tied together, and she couldn't manage it. "My name is Bree," she said. "I don't want to go to the unicorns. I don't want to die."

Leah felt uncomfortable. "Well, no one does. But if I had lost the lottery, I would have had to go to the unicorns. Someone has to go. It's for the good of the village. If we provide the unicorns with virgins when they need them, then they protect us. It's the way it's always been."

"I'm not part of your damned village." Bree's nostrils flared.

Leah knelt down so that she was eye level with Bree. "I don't think they're going to kill you. I don't think the unicorns would do that."

Bree snorted. "You're confused about what they are. You think they're like the stories from before the Collision—all sweetness and light."

"I don't think that," said Leah. "It's only that they seem... noble to me. And they're beautiful. Have you ever seen them?"

Bree didn't answer.

"Do you know about the story of the black unicorn?" said Leah.

"Untie my feet," said Bree. "No one will know it was you. Heck, you can say that I did it myself and then that I overpowered you."

"If I let you go," said Leah, "then I'm back on the hook in the lottery, and it might be me instead of you. Even if it's not, it'll be one of my friends. So, I'm sorry."

Bree shut her eyes, her shoulders sagging. She looked defeated.

"The black unicorn is very special and very powerful. When the black unicorn comes, the days of the witches' ruling the world are numbered. The black unicorn will be tied to a human couple, a man and a woman, and the black unicorn will forge an alliance between the humans and the unicorns. Then, we'll all take back the cities together, and we won't have to live in hiding out here."

Bree picked up a hunk of the bread and tore off a piece. "That's quite a story there."

"It's why I think they won't kill you," said Leah. "If we're destined to work with the unicorns, it wouldn't make any sense if they ate us or something. Besides, they had the first virgin they took from this village for over ten years. Then they only had Annica for six months. That's the most erratic feeding schedule I ever heard of."

"Maybe they kill us for fun," said Bree. "Line up virgins from villages all over and run their horns through us all at once."

"No," said Leah. "We know that these unicorns only have an agreement with our village. They don't like to deal with humans."

"But our species are destined to work together," Bree said mockingly. She stuffed bread into her mouth and chewed.

"I think they're... frightened of us," said Leah. "The same as we're afraid of them."

Bree swallowed the bread. "If you think the unicorns are so great, why don't you volunteer to be their virgin?"

Leah was quiet for a moment. "I was only trying to make you feel better."

"Make yourself feel better is more like it," said Bree. "Leave me the hell alone."

CHAPTER THREE

Bree felt as though she was in a waking nightmare. Ever since a month ago when Violet had been bitten by a wolfwraith, she had felt as if she were being buried alive. At first, she'd been convinced she could find a cure for her sister. She'd dragged Violet up and down the coast, asking at every outpost for any idea of something that could halt the progress of the condition. She'd come up empty, and she'd wasted her last month with her sister.

She should have counted herself lucky to have a full month, because sometimes it was quicker than that. Sometimes, a person was bitten three days before the full moon, and the transformation happened quickly. At the first full moon after being bitten, a victim of a werewolf or a wolfwraith would turn. After that, it was thirty days of monstrousness. The wolfwraiths were half-human, half-wolf. They looked like the wolfmen from the movies, but they didn't change back after the full moon. Instead, they were permanently altered. By the next full moon, their bodies were used up, and they died.

She and Violet had always been so careful, never engaging the wolfwraiths if they could help it.

But they'd been surrounded. The horde had come out of the woods with no warning, and she and Violet had taken the only shelter they could, a ramshackle barn. But the wraiths got in anyway. She and Violet managed to climb into a loft, but they weren't fast enough. Violet made Bree go first, and she climbed the ladder after her, and one of the wraiths grabbed Violet's leg and—

She couldn't be gone. Violet couldn't be gone.

For some reason, that was all Bree could think about as she was marched out of the village of Harmony, leaving its large houses behind. Violet. Where was Violet? If Violet had still been alive, this wouldn't be happening.

Violet had always done everything she could to protect Bree. It had been the two of them against the world as long as Bree could remember. Violet had been nearly eight when the Collision happened. After the death of their parents, she had looked out for her baby sister, made sacrifices so that the two of them could survive, even thrive. Together, they'd been decent scavengers and fighters. They could hold their own against anyone who wanted to make trouble with them. They'd lived their lives on the road, and Bree wouldn't have had it any other way.

That was important to Bree, the most important thing. Freedom. The open road in front of her, the wind on her face.

And now, she was going to be taken to a herd of unicorns, and God only knew what would happen to her.

The dawn was splitting the sky in the east, turning everything shades of purple and red. The men from Harmony village marched her down outside their gates and then they waited at the foot of a rolling hill.

Bree watched the lightening sky, and for the first time, she regretted not selling her body the way Violet had. She knew Violet had hated it, but sometimes it was necessary so that they could eat. But she'd made Bree promise never to do it. And Bree never had.

But if she wasn't a virgin, the unicorns wouldn't want her.

And this wouldn't be happening.

The sun burst up behind the hill, brilliant and gold. And with it came the unicorns.

Bree had never seen them up close before. A few times, she'd seen a herd off in the distance, but from that far, they looked like white horses. She was unprepared for their splendor. The unicorns were brilliantly white, and they seemed to shimmer as if they had light within them. It wasn't simply the reflection of the sunlight, which did stain their flanks gold as they came forward, but something else. Something... magic.

They were not quite as tall as horses, not quite as large, but they were still formidable. Their heads were about eye-level with the heads of the men who had come.

They carried themselves with a dignity that befit royalty. And Bree's breath caught in her throat, because she hadn't realized that they could be so beautiful. They had the kind of beauty that hurt. She wanted to touch them, she realized. She ached to bury her hands in their manes, to wrap her arms around their necks.

And then she scolded herself, because they were far too dignified to be touched in such a way.

Still, a lump was forming in her throat.

One of the unicorns came forward, and his eyes flashed angrily. "This is the girl you bring to us?"

The leader of Harmony, Kenneth, cringed. "She's not a virgin, is she? You can tell from that far away?"

"She is intact," said the unicorn, whose voice was deep and yet flowing, like a babbling brook. "But she is... damaged."

"I don't understand," said Kenneth. "Jonquil, either she's a virgin or she's not."

Jonquil, if that was the unicorn's name, moved forward and stopped in front of Bree, surveying her body. His gaze burned into her. "Her skin is broken in places. She is not well fed."

Bree swallowed. Was that a problem? Were they going to fatten her up?

No, that didn't make sense. If they were just going to kill her, why did they care whether or not she was hurt?

"Is that a problem?" said Kenneth. "Won't you accept her?"

Jonquil turned to Kenneth, pointing his horn at the man. "She is acceptable."

"Good, then," said Kenneth. He gave Bree a little shove, and she stumbled over to Jonquil.

The unicorn inclined his head toward her, and she fell into him, her arms going around her neck. He didn't seem to mind. He nuzzled her before nudging her into a standing position.

Bree was a little horrified at having touched something so pure and perfect, but she had to admit it had been somewhat nice.

"Then our agreement still stands," said Kenneth.

Jonquil gave Kenneth a fierce look. "We are not looking for castoffs. You must take care of the girls before you give them to us."

"Noted," said Kenneth. "Won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," said Jonquil.

Kenneth gave a firm nod.

It was quiet for a moment.

Kenneth raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Jonquil turned away from him.

Kenneth and the other men, seemingly dismissed, turned and walked down the hill, leaving Bree alone with the unicorns.

Bree felt nervous, especially when they all began to close in on her. There was nowhere to run. They surrounded her. She squinted in the morning light.

The unicorns all put their horns down, leveling them at Bree.

Oh, God. She'd been right before. They were going to skewer her, all at once. She cringed, throwing up her hands to try to stop them.

The unicorns' horns began to glow.

Bree licked her lips. Would it burn when they pierced her?

The unicorns were getting closer.

She crumpled to the ground, throwing her arms over her head.

The unicorns were on top of her.

But instead of pain, all she felt was a pleasant sensation, a sort of tingling. She opened her eyes to see that all the unicorns had their glowing horns touching her skin. All the aches and pains in her body began to fade, and she could see that the cuts and bruises on her body were healing as well.

She felt sleepy and her eyes began to drift closed.

Maybe she did remember hearing something somewhere once about the horn of a unicorn having healing properties.

She yawned.

And then she curled up right there on the top of the hill as the sun rose and fell fast asleep.

* * *

When Bree awoke, she'd been moved. She was still lying on the litter that the unicorns had used to transport her, just a rudely fashioned set of sticks with a piece of fabric attached.

The unicorns were all around her. They were in a grove in which the grass was purple, waving in the breeze. The trees surrounding them had long, flowing leaves not unlike weeping willows, but these leaves were a shade of pink.

This was a landscape from the unicorn's own world. In the Collision, some of the pieces from the world of the humans had stayed and some of the pieces of the magical world had stayed. They had smashed against each other like a jigsaw puzzle that had been forced to fit itself together.

One of the unicorns nudged Bree with its snout, forcing her to her feet. She looked around, confused.

But the unicorns were crowding around her, forcing her forward, all nudging her with their noses.

"Okay," she said, "okay, fine. You want me to walk. I get it."

But the unicorns didn't seem to understand. They continued to nudge her.

Apparently, the unicorns were itching to get moving.

She didn't see the talking unicorn among them, the one called Jonquil, which was a pity, because she could have stood a verbal explanation. Still, she didn't have much choice, did she?

Were they marching her off to kill her now?

She really hoped not.

They walked and walked. Eventually, they came close to one of the villages that Bree knew of, because it was a place she and Violet had scavenged.

Several deer ran across the path of the unicorns.

Immediately, the unicorns scattered, all going after the deer. They streaked through the woods, white and gleaming, and they were beautiful as they ran.

The deer picked up the pace, clumping together into a pack and darting under the underbrush.

Wait a second. The unicorns weren't going to hunt the deer, were they? It seemed almost wrong, the unicorns being hoofed creatures like the deer. But then, the unicorns were unlike any species here on earth. They might look like horses, but they were predators. They were exotic and terrifying.

Bree hung back, feeling a little queasy.

Deer were one animal that she and Violet had always left alone. This was due to some movie that Violet had seen as a little girl called Bambi. The idea of killing a deer was too awful for Violet to consider. She told Bree the story of the movie, how it was about a small deer who grew up adorably in the forest with forest friends like rabbits and skunks. (Violet was not above killing and eating rabbits, however, even though that didn't make a lot of sense to Bree.) Then his mother was killed by a hunter. Whenever Violet got to that part, her eyes always got misty.

Bree hadn't seen the movie, but once a long time ago, when they were both little girls and had been scavenging in a store with a caved-in roof that had an access point only children like them could get through, Violet had found a little Bambi book with illustrations.

So, it was the illustrations from the book that she remembered now as she watched all the deer running away from the unicorns.

Bree cringed.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to see this.

Of course, it wasn't as if she and Violet hadn't had to kill animals from time to time. Many farms had been destroyed during the Collision, and their animals now roamed free in the wild. The domestic creatures were not good at taking care of themselves or getting away from danger. Violet always said they were asking for it. They mostly stuck to small prey—chickens and ducks and turkeys. But occasionally, if they had partners like other scavengers, they might take down a whole cow.

It was disgusting, to be sure, and a bit unsettling, but there was very little running and fear and chasing and—

Bree averted her eyes.

Two unicorns had just cornered one of the deer and were now ramming their horns into its flesh.

The deer let out an odd bleating noise, and Bree had never heard a deer make any noise at all. Its eyes were wide and terrified.

At the noise, Bree turned back to look.

Another unicorn came from the opposite angle as the first two, horn down. It pierced the deer as well.

The deer struggled. But it was gored and pinned, horns stuck through its body from two different directions. It thrashed, whites of its eyes bright, but it couldn't get free. It was only succeeding in hurting itself more.

Bree wanted to look away but found she couldn't. It was too horrifying, and she was glued to it.

More unicorns appeared from other angles. They thrust in their horns as well.

The deer was still alive, still struggling, still trying to get away, even though it was impossible at this point.

Just die, Bree thought at it, her teeth on edge. Die.

One of the unicorns pulled out its horn. It was red, dripping with blood.

And blood gushed out of the wound in the deer.

More horns came out.

More blood.

The deer wavered on its feet, unsteady.

And as the last of the horns were pulled free, it fell to the ground, motionless.

Bree shuddered. This was awful. Even killing a cow, it had never been like this. Every time she'd seen it, it had been quick, either with an arrow or a bullet or with someone sneaking up behind the creature and stabbing it in the brain.

This was... brutal. Wild. Frightening.

And yet, even as the unicorns stood over their prey, there was something so radiant about them. They were majestic and terrible, but they were still so elegant. She let out a whimper and sunk to the forest floor.

This was why unicorns were feared.

CHAPTER FOUR

Zhanna Seale woke late in the morning. She had stayed up late at the banquet the night before, drinking with her consort Caspar Stone, who still amused her, even though they were permanently linked and she'd had him in her bed for nearly ten years. She was lucky in that respect, she supposed. Many witches grew tired of their consorts after only a few short months.

It didn't help matters that men tended to be rather clingy and whiny about all of it as well. If their wives didn't pay them any mind for two hours, they were in a desperate panic as to what it was they had possibly done wrong.

Zhanna snorted, throwing aside the covers. She was alone in her own bed. She'd spent some time with Caspar, but she'd sent him away after they made love. She didn't appreciate sharing a bed with sweaty man flesh. Caspar used to whine about that too, claiming he wanted to "hold her" through the night. But she told him that if he didn't stop making such a fuss about it, she would summon fire and burn off his balls, and he shut up after that.

He knew she would have done it. She'd done worse on a whim before. Not to her own consort, of course, but to concubines who'd come to serve her. Women in the lesser echelons of the Order of the Broom were always sending their men to her to do with as she pleased. If they amused her, she kept them around. If they didn't, she let them go. Or sometimes she mutilated them. It all depended on her mood.

Amongst Zhanna's people, only the women had magic. She thought it was nature's balancing act. Nature had given men brute strength, but it had given women power over the elements, power over the mind. Of course, no power came without a price, and strong magic was fed by sexual potency. The unicorns—the witch's enemies—fed on the sexual potential of virgins. The witches, full-blooded, earthy women, fed on actual coitus. A strong witch like herself needed to have more than just a consort to keep herself sated and her magic strong. One consort would be burnt out by her appetite.

Caspar wasn't the jealous type, though, and she was glad of that. Men who were jealous of other lovers in their wives' beds often also became jealous of their wives' magic. And there was only one way for a man to acquire magic. That was through a werewolf bite.

If a werewolf bit a witch, nothing happened. Women were already magical. But biting a man? Well, it transformed him.

If Zhanna would have had her way, then Jack Bastian would never have been bitten. He'd been a small boy when it had happened, and it had always seemed like an accident, but she wouldn't have put it past Jack to have engineered the entire thing. Jack was such a hateful child, and he'd grown into a hateful man. Most especially, he'd taken after his father, and that made Zhanna hate him.

She would have hated him even if Jack had taken after his mother solely, but having the stamp of that horrid man on the face of Jack, well, it was like pouring salt into a wound.

And there was also the fact that Jack refused to service her. That made her crazy angry.

He claimed it wasn't a refusal. Said it wasn't his fault that he couldn't "rise to the occasion" in her presence, and she could hardly argue with that. She couldn't force him to get an erection. There was an aphrodisiac that women sometimes used on their consorts, but it didn't work on other witches or werewolves or anyone with magic, so it was useless on Jack.

The fact he didn't get aroused made her want to strangle Jack.

She fantasized about it sometimes. Wrapping her fingers around his neck, squeezing the life out of him.

She would never do it. Jack was too useful to her. His abilities as both a gift and a weapon made him valuable.

Besides, she liked to hold it over Siena's head that her son was Zhanna's concubine.

She always kept Siena close these days. She should have never let the bitch out of her sight. When Zhanna was young, hundreds of years before the Collision, she and Siena had been the same age in the Court of the Broom. At the time, there had been a different high mistress. The two young witches had been rivals, both shining stars, both powerful. They had competed for prestige and for the attention of one man.

Rainer Bastian. The most beautiful man that Zhanna had ever seen, with his dusky skin and his dark eyes and his sharp features. She had been intent on having him. Typically, at that point in time in Zhanna's life, intent was all it took. She didn't need to work very hard at getting a man into bed, even before she had any power. She had been young and pretty and desirable.

But not Rainer. No, not him. He'd only had eyes for Siena, and that had driven Zhanna to distraction. She had tried everything she could think of to get Rainer's attention.

She had worn revealing clothing, gotten herself seated next to him at meals and laughed loudly at his jokes, figured out his schedule and showed up randomly during his day to flaunt herself at him.

Nothing had worked.

Then, abruptly, they had both disappeared from court. Zhanna had used what limited resources she had available to search for them, but nothing came back. At least not at first. Finally, a concubine who knew of a friend of a friend managed to find out that Siena was pregnant with Rainer's child, and that the two had settled someplace to raise a family together.

Zhanna was aghast. Rainer was Siena's consort? That was unacceptable.

Amongst witches, there was nothing so sacrosanct as another woman's husband. It was no problem at all to steal concubines when one witch wasn't tending to them, but a consort? No, that was forbidden. Rainer had been effectively cut off from her.

Zhanna was accustomed to getting what she wanted.

Time passed, and it did nothing to soothe the festering anger within the witch. She grew more and more powerful, and she never forgot that Rainer had been stolen from her. When she finally achieved the high mistress position, she decided it was time for revenge.

She sent an invitation to Siena, asking her to come back to court for a visit, claiming that she missed her old friend, and that she wanted to relive old times. She told Siena to bring her family.

Once they were all there, Zhanna wasted no time in calling Rainer to her chamber late one night. She was stretched out on the bed when he arrived, clothed only in thin, see-through robes. The room was lit with candles.

When he came in the door, she sat up on the bed and beckoned for him.

"Mistress?" he said. "Surely you aren't asking me to betray my wife with you."

"Betrayal is such a harsh word," said Zhanna.

"I could be executed for such a thing," he said.

"I will protect you," she said. She curled her fingers, smiling at him in the candlelight. "Come to me, Rainer. I have dreamed of having you for quite some time."

"I cannot betray my wife," said Rainer.

Zhanna grew angry. "If it's execution you're worried about, then I can assure you that you won't live to the morning if you don't join me on this bed now." She didn't want him that way, not with the threat of violence, but an unwilling Rainer was better than no Rainer at all. And besides, once she had him out of his clothing, she could make him see that he did indeed want her. He must see that.

Rainer still refused. He fled from her room back to Siena and told her everything. Siena packed up her son and her husband and made to leave the court. But when Zhanna heard news of this, she tore her clothing and smashed her face against the wall until she bled, and then she ran after their carriage, screaming that Rainer had violated her, that she would see him dead.

Rainer claimed he was innocent, but no one believed him, even though it was a formidable thing to overpower the High Mistress of the Way of the Broom.

He was hung at sunset the following day, and Zhanna had Siena and her brat locked up in the dungeon.

She would have let them rot down there if the boy hadn't somehow managed to get himself bitten by a werewolf. That meant he wasn't safe in the dungeons. They couldn't have him going about infecting all the prisoners. Too many werewolves in the dungeons and they might stand a chance of breaking free.

Zhanna had taken the boy out of the dungeons and installed him in her bedroom on a leash. She had an iron collar around his neck and kept him chained to the wall. He was little more than a pup then, but he was hateful. He wouldn't follow the smallest instructions, and he would have "accidents" on her floor and bed, no matter how he was punished, even when she put a silver chain around his neck. Wolves couldn't bear silver. It didn't kill them, but it was irritating and it interfered with their ability to heal.

After coming home to wolf piss on her sheets the final time, she hit upon a way to control him.

She took the wolf pup down to the dungeons and made it clear to him that his mother was hers to do with as she pleased. If Jack did one thing that struck her the wrong way, then Siena would pay the price. And it cut both ways for Siena. Any punishments that bitch deserved would be taken out on the boy.

From then on, they'd both been more agreeable.

Zhanna thrust aside the curtains and looked out down over the city. It was nearly noon, but she was still in the mood for breakfast. They had delightful things at restaurants in the city—shredded potatoes formed into shapes and deep fried. Hashbrowns, she thought they called them. She wanted a mess of those. Maybe she'd take them down to the dungeon and eat them in front of Siena, just for the fun of it.

She smiled. Yes, she had to admit that it was good to be High Mistress.

* * *

Bree felt as if she and the unicorns had been walking for hours, but she could see from the sun in the trees that it was still morning. They had paused in a clearing in the woods. An old train track ran through the trees, covered in moss and vines.

One of the unicorns approached Bree, dragging a long piece of fabric in its mouth. It lay the fabric out in front of Bree, and Bree could see that it was laid out with fruit and meat—raw meat from the looks of it.

Another unicorn nudged Bree with its nose, indicating she should focus on the food.

Did they want her to eat? "Am I supposed to eat this?" she said.

A few nickers and whinnies from the unicorns, but no real response.

Bree knew that the Jonquil unicorn had spoken earlier, so she wasn't sure why these unicorns weren't. Maybe they didn't know how to talk? After all, it had only been Jonquil who had spoken. She mimed putting the fruit into her mouth? "Eat?" she said.

In response, the unicorns nudged her toward the food again, and they made more nickers.

Bree shrugged. She picked up a grape and popped it in her mouth.

The unicorns all seemed satisfied.

She ate the fruit without any problem, but she wasn't keen on the meat. She guessed she couldn't be too upset about the fact it was probably the deer she's seen them kill, but it did bother her. Also the idea of raw meat did not sound appetizing to her. She supposed it was fresh, though, so it would be safe.

She certainly didn't see a refrigerator out here anywhere, not that many people really had refrigeration outside of the cities. There were a few outposts that had stolen electricity from the cities, wired it out so that they could have lights and heat. Bree especially liked hearing recorded music. She loved it when there was enough power to fire up some old device and pump out tunes. As a small child, she'd liked the music from before the Collision the best, because much of the newer artists were melancholy, even if they were being patronized by the witches and kept comfortable. But now, older and wiser, she appreciated the sadder songs as well.

All the fruit eaten, Bree leaned back, patting her belly. "I'm full," she told the unicorns. "Thanks."

One of the unicorns nudged Bree with its nose, pointing her at the meat.

She shook her head. "That's okay. I'm full."

The unicorn nudged her again, and so did some of the other unicorns.

Bree tried to say no again.

But one of the unicorns opened its mouth and let out an "Eeeee" sound. It shook its head and its mane. "Eeee," it said again. "Eat."

The other unicorns all whinnied. Some stamped their hooves. Others reared up on their hind legs.

"Okay, okay," said Bree, and she picked up a hunk of the raw meat. She took a bite. Actually, it didn't taste bad. The texture was a little strange, but it was pretty good, the meaty flavor more pronounced than in cooked meat.

Once she had consumed all of the food, the unicorns surged close to her again, forming a sort of rough line. The first one lay down next to her, lowering its head into her lap.

She was stunned. Here was this beautiful, majestic creature, and it was basically cuddling with her. Tentatively, she did the thing that she'd wanted to do before. She buried her hand in the unicorn's mane.

It let out a harsh bit of air, a deeply satisfied sound.

She couldn't help but smile. Actually, she remembered a painting or something. They'd been talking about it in the outpost. It was from before the Collision. A virgin with a unicorn in her lap. The way she understood it, before the Collision, unicorns sometimes came through rips and tears between their worlds, and they could be captured by virgins... But why did that mean that unicorn herds wanted unicorns?

Bree didn't understand.

Abruptly, the unicorn in her lap got up and moved on.

The next unicorn lay down next to her and put its head in her lap as well.

She stroked this one too. It snuggled close to her, closing its eyes.

On and on it went, one after the other, until she had petted each one.

Bree felt awestruck. She had been allowed such intimacy with these powerful and graceful creatures. And she was beginning to think that they didn't have any intention of killing her.

* * *

Jonquil the unicorn lay with his head between his hoofs in a patch of late morning sunlight. He knew that he should be tending to the new virgin, but he felt he barely had any energy for it after dealing with the humans this morning. The virgins were always such an onerous burden.

~I, for one,~ said Glade, another unicorn, over a thought thread, ~think she's charming.~

The thought threads weren't actually words, weren't really language, but Jonquil's mind had been influenced by learning to speak and he tended to hear the translations of the thought threads involuntarily. Just another taint of the humans.

Before the Collision, there had been enough purple grass for all his people, and none of them had gone hungry, but here in this new world, they had to find virgins to supplement their magic. Unicorns were deeply magical creatures, and if they didn't have enough magic, they withered and suffered. They could even die if the situation was dire enough.

~Yes, quite lovely once she was healed,~ said Early. ~Before that, she seemed a bit worn down.~

~I think this one will work out,~ said Glade. ~We had such poor luck with the one before, but I think this one is going to be with us for some time. Don't you feel it, Jonquil?~

Jonquil raised his head from between his hoofs. ~I think they're all the same. Silly, frivolous things that are more interested in not being virgins than in everything we do for them.~

~Well, that's true enough,~ said Early, snorting.

~Oh, come now, Jonquil,~ said Glade. ~She seems quite a bit less silly than the last one. Very serious, actually. Hasn't laughed once.~

~Or cried,~ Jonquil admitted reluctantly. ~Usually, they're blubbering messes the first day, begging us not to eat them.~

Another snort from Early. ~As if we'd eat anything so skinny.~

They all laughed unicorn laughter, and the air around them seemed to sparkle.

~Maybe she won't be so horrible,~ Jonquil sighed. ~It's only that I wish we didn't need to bother with them at all. Keeping on a human girl, feeding her and giving her shelter is a burden on the herd. If we weren't in danger of starvation without using her for magic, then I would never advocate keeping a virgin with us.~

~Ah, indeed,~ said Early. ~I miss the old days too, my friend.~

~As do I,~ said Glade.

And the three were quiet as they looked out over the horizon, where the purple grass of their people ended, giving way to the green grass of this world, grass with no magic whatsoever.

* * *

Jack Bastian bounded through the streets in wolf form. He needed to get free of the city, of its metal and structure, of its squared-off narrow streets. But it was a long run to the edges, and even out there, finding the open, wild spaces could be hard. Before the Collision, the humans had expanded far and wide in this world, and they had clustered close to the cities in mini-cities they had called suburbs. The suburbs were mostly empty of humans these days. After the Collision, the human population had been decimated by witch magic and the creation of the wolfwraiths. Before the Collision, if werewolf bites had created the wraiths when wolves had traveled through the rips between the worlds, they had never known.

Still, empty houses and empty streets were not what Jack craved.

But he raced through the streets anyway. In truth, he wasn't running from the city, anyway. He was running from himself.

He wasn't sure what darkness was inside him, but after nights like the night before, it felt boundless. It was assured that Mistress Ruby Wallace was a dreadful person. Rooting around inside her head, he'd shaken loose confessions for all her machinations, which included everything from deception to murder. She was ruthless.

That was at least some consolation.

Sometimes, Zhanna sicced him on women who were innocent, and then he could hardly bear to do what she asked of him.

He ran faster, because he wasn't certain why he could do it at all. Something inside him had broken a long time ago, he knew that much, and he supposed that whenever the breaks had been repaired, the darkness had done it, because there was nothing left inside him besides the darkness.

But he didn't like breaking women's minds, no matter how ruthless and horrible they were.

He picked up the pace again, because that wasn't true. He did like it. He didn't want to like it, however. There was a higher part of himself that wanted very much to leave all of it behind him.

It was an intricate bit of maneuvering, breaking a witch's mind, and he was good at it. It required that he get under the witch's defenses, which he did by stoking her into a fever pitch of pleasure, bringing her to climax after climax, and while she lay twitching and moaning and defenseless, he slipped inside her mind. From there, it was easy enough to fracture things, take apart connections, make her nothing more than a drooling mess.

The skill wasn't unique to Jack. Most werewolves could manage it, but most didn't, because most men felt an inherent revulsion by the thought of knowingly hurting a woman. It was within their general make-up to try to protect and serve. The witches counted on that fact and exploited it.

The mind link could be used for non-hurtful purposes as well. Werewolves could use it to increase pleasure for both parties. That was why there were so many werewolf concubines at court.

Jack wagered, however, that while any werewolf could link his mind to a witch, none were quite as skilled as he was. He'd developed the skill as an adolescent, and then only to survive. Zhanna had always hated him and had delighted in torturing him as long as he'd been at court, which was practically his whole life. He had a few vague memories of his childhood with his mother and father before, but they seemed so happy and carefree he often wondered if he hadn't simply dreamed them up. Certainly, no one was ever that happy.

At any rate, Jack had known that Zhanna wouldn't be amused by him forever. If he had been any other wolf at court, that would only have meant that she'd eventually kick him out, set him free. But he wasn't any wolf. He was Siena's son, and Jack was convinced that if Zhanna truly was through with him, she'd have him killed.

Which might have been motivation enough to find some way to become useful, but he wasn't sure that death wouldn't be some kind of sweet release. However, he knew that without him around to torment his mother, Zhanna might kill her as well, and Jack couldn't bear the thought of that. He had to save both of their lives, and so he cast about for some sort of skill he could develop to make himself invaluable to Zhanna.

That was how he became a concubine in the first place. Zhanna always kept him to herself, and she still thought of him as a child, so there had been no advances toward him, not at that point. He hadn't reached his full maturity, so he wasn't sure there was much about him that would be appealing to witches. Still, he had to try. If he could become the favorite of enough witches at court, he would have value. Zhanna wouldn't dare kill him.

At the time, he supposed he'd even considered servicing Zhanna, but he hadn't understood what it meant back then. At any rate, his body had different ideas when it came to her. He couldn't service her, even if he wanted to, which he obviously didn't.

He remembered the first evening well. He was awkward and young, but he'd grown up in court, so he'd watched the concubines. He knew how they dressed, how they carried themselves. He had dressed himself in a leather vest and a pair of tight leather pants and he had used slashes of paint around his eyes to make them stand out even more, and he had gone to the banquet.

He remembered standing under the lights, holding a goblet of wine, doing his best to adopt a careless, rakish posture. He had probably been rather awful at it, he mused over it now.

But a witch had approached him. "What's your name?" she'd murmured.

"Jack," he'd said.

She'd run her hands down his chest, which was mostly bare, since the vest was open. She'd leaned close. "Come with me, Jack?"

He remembered that she'd made it a question, even though it was never a question at court. Men were there to serve witches. Witches needed magic, sex made magic, and men gave them sex. That was all. But he'd appreciated that she'd acted as though he could turn her down. It had given him some dignity.

That was maybe the first tiny shred of dignity that had been offered him at court. He'd held onto it tightly with both fists, and he'd built it up as high as he could.

Turned out, he was a bit of a natural at being a concubine.

He liked to think the dignity was all part of it. Witches wanted virile men, not doormats. They treated the men like doormats, but they wanted them to throw all that aside and pretend as if they were free and strong. He did that. Witches liked it. Zhanna liked it, much to her own chagrin. He chuckled to himself, thinking of the way she raged at him for the fact that he wouldn't screw her.

He was able to achieve the mind link easily enough once he'd had it explained to him by other werewolf concubines. He hadn't ever intended to use it as a weapon until he found himself doing it almost uncontrollably, so great had his rage been.

After Zhanna found out that he'd been servicing other witches at court, she was eager to have a taste of him herself, but she was always sadistic about it, so she made sure that she went about their proposed union in the most degrading way.

He was at one of the banquets, talking to an adept witch over some appetizers when Zhanna appeared, dressed in a dress with a full black skirt and a bodice that was nothing more than a few strips of fabric, covering the most important bits of her body and leaving everything else on display. She had a leash coiled in one hand, and she dragged him away from the witch and ordered him to shift into wolf form right there in front of everyone.

He remembered lifting his chin in defiance, saying, "I won't."

"You will, or your mother will pay the price," said Zhanna.

That was always the way. Always the threat of his mother in the wings. And Zhanna made sure to give him just enough time with his mother that he still felt a deep bond. Once a week in her cell, both of them alone to talk, to let her give him hugs and whisper to him that he was loved. Just enough to hurt them both.

So, he had no choice. He shifted. He knew Zhanna wanted him to undress first, to give all the witches a show, but if Jack was going to strip, it would be on his own terms, and it would give him power, not take it away. So, he just let the change wash over him, exploding into fur and claws and teeth, his clothes ripping and tearing and falling in tatters around him.

Zhanna was angry, but she couldn't show herself to be petulant, so she'd just put a collar and leash on him and dragged him out of the banquet and into her room.

There, she subjected him to a series of degrading tasks, all in wolf form. She seemed to find sexual pleasure from his animal shape, and he found the idea of it unnatural and disgusting. She wanted his wolf tongue on her, she wanted to tease his genitalia while he was still furry.

He rewarded her by not responding. It wasn't a choice. He simply didn't find whatever she was doing particularly stimulating.

Furious now, she'd ordered him to shift back, but he'd never gotten an erection, not once during the entire encounter.

That had enraged her even further. Sometimes her anger was hot and raging and she'd lash out. He almost preferred that, even if it sometimes left scars. But this time, she was quiet and cold. She ordered him back into wolf form.

When he wouldn't comply, she leashed him to the wall anyway and fitted a muzzle around his face.

She kept him that way for weeks, muzzled and leashed in her room, and she fed him like a dog out of a dish. "You're nothing but a useless beast," she said to him. "You're not even a man."

During those weeks, he fantasized nearly every day about ripping out her throat.

But to try would be suicide. She had strong magic, and there was no way he'd even get within five inches of her long, pale neck before she would kill him.

And then she gave him to her ladies-in-waiting, half of whom were just as sadistic as she was. One of them got out the silver. The woman's name was Rina, and she loved to torture wolves with silver. She bound Jack in a silver chain, ordered him to shift back to human form, or she said that she wouldn't ever remove the silver.

He had no choice. The silver was agony. He shifted, and then he was naked with the women, and they wanted to play.

Well, he'd had a game for Rina. He'd thrust his tongue inside her mouth, and his fingers between her legs and when the first ripples of pleasure went through her, the mind link opened. He dove through it, and the rage exploded out of him. He could hardly think, he just starting ripping her mind to shreds.

Afterward, she drooled, and she had to wear diapers. She was removed from court, because Zhanna didn't want that around.

There was an outcry from the other ladies-in-waiting, who wanted Jack executed for what he'd done, but Zhanna didn't do that. She insisted Jack's skills could be useful, and she set about using them whenever she could.

So, now, here he was, Zhanna's weapon, Zhanna's puppet.

A joyous cry interrupted his thoughts. "Prince!" yelled out a child's voice.

Jack slowed his running. Was he in The Heights? He hadn't meant to run here, but then he hadn't been paying much attention to where he was going. The Heights was the human section of the city. All the humans lived on top of each other in tiny apartments and they were forced to work doing whatever it was the witches wanted from them. Many worked in factories to make the creature comforts the witches craved. Before the Collision, they'd lived in candlelight with servants to take out their piss pots. Now, with plumbing and electricity, the witches were spoiled.

A small boy with red hair leaped down off an old fire escape. He had freckles all over his nose and cheeks. He was called Charlie. Charlie let out a whoop and hurried over to Jack. He threw his small arms around the wolf's neck. "Oh, Prince, it's so good to see you."

Jack licked the boy's cheek. Charlie was too small a boy to know that Jack was not, in fact, simply a very large, friendly dog, and Jack liked it that way, for some reason. He never spoke to the boy, never let on that he was actually a werewolf. And he was careful to stay out of sight of Charlie's parents who would surely realize the truth and warn the boy away.

It was funny, because if someone had proposed the idea to Jack—pretending to be a dog and playing fetch with a small human child—he would have thought it offensive. But it wasn't, not in reality. Maybe because the boy was such pure love and joy, even though he hadn't any right to be. Or maybe it was the name the boy had given him. Prince, as if he thought Jack was some kind of royalty.

Maybe it was because there wasn't nearly enough love or joy in Jack's life right now.

Charlie giggled and scratched him behind his ears. "I saved some jerky from lunch just in case I ran into you today." The boy pulled back and took some paper-wrapped dried meat out of his pocket. He unwrapped it and held it out to Jack. "Go on, boy, have some."

Smiling inwardly, Jack gobbled up the bit of meat. He knew from previous experience that Charlie wouldn't rest until he'd eaten what he gave him.

"You like that, don't you, boy?" Charlie's eyes were shining.

In response, Jack licked the boy's face again.

Charlie gave him a pat. "Want to play, Prince? Want to play?"

Jack thought playing might be just the thing to distract him.

CHAPTER FIVE

Bree woke up to a unicorn snout in her face. It was the one from before, the one who could talk. Jonquil. She rolled over, squinting at the morning light. She'd been sleeping on the fabric that the unicorns had given her, with another little strip of fabric over her body for warmth. But now, she was covered in dew, and everything was soaked. Grimacing, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. "You know, I have a perfectly decent bedroll back at the Johnstown outpost," she told Jonquil. "I don't suppose there's any way you'd let me go back and get it?"

The unicorn didn't answer. He backed up, surveying her. "You're awake. Good."

Bree sighed. Fine, he was going to ignore her requests, was he? She stretched, yawning. "So, you guys going to eat me or what?"

Jonquil bristled. "Of course not."

She shrugged. "Sorry. It's just that's what people say."

"We're moving on to find more grass," said Jonquil.

"You don't care what people say, I guess," said Bree, eyeing him.

"Be ready to go by the time the sun is fully overhead," Jonquil said, starting to walk away from her.

"I get that," she called after him. "People say all kinds of nasty things about scavengers too, but I don't care about that. People can think what they want. Besides, sometimes it's useful, having people be afraid of you. You know?"

Jonquil didn't answer.

She should know better than to try, she guessed. But as near as she could tell, Jonquil was the only one of the unicorns who could really talk, and she desperately wanted to talk to someone. There were only two ways she knew to get out of a bad situation. One was to fight her way out, and there was no way she'd be able to fight these unicorns, who were full of magic and had dangerous horns. The other way was to talk her way out. Since Jonquil was the only one who could talk, he was it.

"Look, I'm just confused is all," said Bree. "What is it you want from me?"

Jonquil kept walking.

Bree got up and went after him. "All of the unicorns laying their heads in my lap? What was that all about? Did you guys simply decided to be super cuddly with me or something?"

Jonquil quickened his pace.

Bree did too. "Not that I minded or anything, because, actually, it was, uh, nice. But I still don't understand anything. I want to understand. Why am I here?"

Jonquil stopped moving. "You're our virgin."

"Yeah, okay, I get that," said Bree. "And I know unicorns like virgins more than other people, but I don't know why."

"We need magic to live," he said. "We can get magic from two places. From the purple grass that grows or from the untapped potential of virgins. Females are preferred since they have a higher capability for sensuality."

Bree raised her eyebrows. "Really? Maybe in your world—"

"Males tend to want quantity over quality when it comes to sexual relations," said Jonquil. "We can gather power from male virgins, but it's not as potent. In our world, we had enough of the purple grass that we rarely needed virgins, but now, we can barely find enough grass to graze on."

"Because of the Collision," Bree said.

"Yes," said Jonquil.

"The Collision took my parents," she said. "It doesn't make me happy either. But... I mean, you can't just go around capturing girls because you need magic to live."

"What are you talking about?" said Jonquil. "We didn't capture you."

"Not personally, but you had those humans at the village do it for you. They were happy enough to send me instead of having their lottery."

"You are not from the village?" Jonquil looked troubled.

"No," she said. "They snatched me so that they could give me to you."

Jonquil heaved an enormous sigh and he started to walk again.

"Wait," said Bree. "Where are you going? We're not done talking."

"Be ready to leave when the sun is full in the sky," said Jonquil.

Bree tried to keep up with him, but he started to gallop, moving faster. "Hey!" she yelled. "Could I at least have some cooked meat instead of that raw stuff?"

* * *

~The people of Harmony have broken their word to us,~ said Jonquil to Haven, who was as close to a leader of the herd as anyone might be.

Haven was munching on some of the last bits of purple grass in the area along with the rest of the herd. She chewed and regarded Jonquil. ~They have brought us a virgin, have they not? Is there something wrong with her?~

~She's fine,~ said Jonquil. ~There's a resilience to her, unlike the others we've had. I think she will do well, although she has asked about cooking her meat, which is something I don't entirely understand.~

~Figure it out and do it for her,~ said Haven. ~We should keep the virgin as happy as possible. We owe her for sacrificing herself to us. It is a noble gesture that helps to save her village.~

~But that's what I'm trying to tell you. The girl didn't come from the village. She is a scavenger, she said. The people of Harmony captured her and gave her to us. That may be why she was hurt when she arrived.~

~She's not from the village?~

~No.~

Haven straightened, considering. ~So, if this is true, then they have gone back on their deal with us. We wanted volunteers.~

~She said something about a lottery.~

~What is that?~

~I don't know exactly. I think it is some human practice in which several objects are all placed in a container and then one is drawn. I had only heard that the drawn one would win some prize, but in this case, maybe it means that the drawn one was given to us. In which case, we have never been truly given volunteers.~

Haven shook out her mane. ~I wonder if that is because they think we eat the virgins. I don't know who would volunteer for such a thing.~

~Even so, they have gone back on the deal, and that means we should have no reason to continue protecting Harmony.~

~Now, now, Jonquil, let's not be hasty. The people of Harmony have not called on us for help in over ten years.~

~That is only because word has spread that we are there to protect them~ said Jonquil.

~Even so, if we break with them, it will only cause further unrest between us and the humans.~

~And? Is that a problem?~

~For better or worse, this is our home now. We may all crave a return to the way that things were, but that will never be. We must learn to make peace here. Working with the humans is part of that.~

Jonquil bit back an angry retort. He didn't much care about humans or peace, but that was only because he'd spent time among them. Before the Collision, Jonquil had once been captured by a group of humans who had lured him with a virgin girl. Once he'd put his head in her lap, they had jumped on him and tied him up. Their plan had been to cut off his horn. Unicorns' horns had healing properties.

But the virgin girl had delayed it somehow, appealing to her father, who'd engineered the entire situation. She said that she was too enamored with the unicorn and that they couldn't cut off its horn. So, instead, he was kept prisoner in a stone tower, and without any grass or the ability to put his head in the lap of a virgin, his magic had drained away. He was there for a long time, and the girl came to him, but could never come inside. She spoke to him through the window. She petted him and fed him carrots and apples and sugar cubes.

It was during that long, long imprisonment that he'd learned human speech.

But as time passed, he'd begun to fade away. And the girl grew older and older, too. She was less interested in him as she had been at the beginning. He began to hear talk amongst the male humans, her father and brothers, that they could remove his horn without upsetting the girl too much.

So, the next time he saw her, he appealed to her. He said that he could not stay here, because he needed magic to survive, and that her family was going to cut off his horn, and that would kill him just as surely. It would be a slow, slow death. Without the horn, he had no access to magic, and without magic, he would die. Either way, if she did not help him, he was done for.

And so, she had found a way to get the key to the tower and release him.

For some reason, he'd adored her. She had conspired in his imprisonment, but she'd had such open love for him, and he had responded in kind. He was weak, weak, weak.

After his escape, he had come back to visit her more than once, always under the cover of darkness. They would speak, and he would lay his head in her lap, and he loved her. He couldn't help but love her. But one day, when she came, her smell was different, and he knew that she was no longer a virgin.

She had made excuses, said they had made her get married, made her marry some knight, and that she hadn't even liked it, and it hadn't been her choice, but in the end, it was all the same.

He had lost her, and his heart was broken.

Humans were changeable and they weren't to be trusted. He recognized Haven's right to lead and her word was law, but that didn't mean that he had to agree with her.

* * *

Jonquil noted that the virgin was hanging back at the end of the herd. They had been walking all day, it was true, and the virgin didn't have much meat on her bones. She had probably used up all her energy already. He let himself slow until he could match her pace. They were walking along an old, abandoned road, which had been mostly reclaimed by grasses and weeds. The only sign that it had been a road was the fact that the forest hadn't yet overtaken the long, flat stretch between the trees and the feel of the old, crumbling asphalt beneath his hooves.

"What is this cooking you speak of?" he said.

She turned to him, but she didn't speak for several moments, because she was winded.

He stopped moving entirely.

She stopped too, looking wary. When she caught her breath, she said, "I tried to tell the others I needed a break, but they don't understand me." She wheezed. "And if I stop, they get behind me and nudge me until I get back up."

He bent down his head, making his back lower to the ground. "Climb on my back."

"Oh!" The virgin looked taken aback. "I couldn't... I mean, are you sure?"

"You are exhausted," said Jonquil. "The leader says that we must keep you comfortable, because we need your services. Climb on."

"Th-thank you," said the virgin. She approached him and put her hand on his back, almost reverently. Carefully, she climbed aboard.

Jonquil straightened and began to walk again. The virgin barely weighed anything. She needed to eat more.

"I'm Bree," she said. "You're Jonquil, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Jonquil, who had to admit her tentative arms around his neck were rather nice.

"Thank you, Jonquil," she breathed. "I guess it's okay that I was captured to help you. I don't have anywhere else to go. I don't have anyone else to be with."

He could hear the sadness in her voice, as well as the exhaustion. Despite his misgivings about humans, he felt sympathy for her. He couldn't help it. "I'm sorry, Bree."

She leaned close, her arms tightening around his neck a bit.

"So," he said, "about cooking? It's something that's done with fire, yes?"

"You don't know about cooking?" she said.

"No, we don't cook anything. What do you need to make the fire?"

"You don't make fire either?"

"We don't need fire."

"Even with the other virgins you've had with you? You never let them make a fire?"

"What is the purpose of a fire, Virgin Bree? Simply for cooking?"

"Oh, no, it's for so many things. Light and heat and cooking and comfort, and... It's very important to humans. Whenever my sister and I made camp, we always had a fire."

"Then you should have one here as well," said Jonquil, thinking that he did want Bree to be comfortable after all. Maybe the other unicorns were right. Maybe there was something different about this one. He couldn't quite put his horn on it, but she did seem unique. "What do you need to make a fire?"

"Um, wood," she said. "I usually used matches or a lighter to make one, but there are other ways. Harder ways."

"We can find these things for you," said Jonquil. "You will have a fire."

She squeezed his neck. "Thank you. I appreciate it. You know, if you are looking for purple grass, I know where there's lots of it. We used to see it on scavenging trips, my sister and me. I could take you there."

Jonquil was surprised. "You would help us? Help the unicorns, your captors?"

Bree laughed. "Just promise not to eat me."

* * *

Bree worked on stacking the wood in a pattern that would best allow her to make a small fire. She wouldn't need anything large. After all, she supposed she was the only one who would be cooking anything. Jonquil had told her to prepare the fire and that he would bring her some matches to start it.

They had settled for the evening in a grove of trees with waving pink fronds, and the purple grass came through the regular green grass in patches. Bree was near the trees while the unicorns were wandering out amongst patches of purple grass, grazing. She couldn't see Jonquil anywhere, though, and she wasn't sure where he'd gone.

She was beyond grateful to the unicorn, and she wasn't sure if it was because she'd been allowed to ride on his back, to bury her fingers in the tresses of his long white mane and to feel the sinews of his muscles against her skin. The experience had been nothing like anything she had ever felt before, and she felt awed and honored to have ridden a unicorn.

She knew that right after the Collision, groups of people had tried to do ridiculous things like lasso and capture unicorns, and every single one of them had ended up dead. Either they were cooked in their shoes by the unicorn's magic or they were gored by unicorn horns. Word had spread rather quickly that unicorns were not to be captured, and the thought of riding one? Near as she knew, no one had ever ridden a unicorn.

But now she had.

She was beginning to think that the unicorns were not the fearsome monsters that everyone said they were. They had probably only acquired that reputation because they'd defended themselves against attacks. They'd had to frighten the humans in order to keep them from coming back and terrorizing them even more.

Humans supposedly had done a lot of terrorizing in their time on earth. Bree didn't know much about it, because she'd never had a history lesson, having been too small for school when the Collision hit. But every once in a while, she and Violet would end up at an outpost where some grizzled man or woman would be sitting by a fire in a rusted-out trash barrel, and that person would start up with how everything that had happened was only what the humans deserved.

The old-timer would list humanity's sins. Conquering indigenous peoples on every continent, using them as slaves or simply stealing their land. Wars that had raged for years. Something called the Holocaust. Something called a nuclear bomb.

That was typically the point in time that Bree tuned out. She knew that it would all be wrapped up eventually with the final conclusion that humans were so bad and evil they deserved whatever they got from the witches and wolfwraiths and unicorns, so they might as well roll over and take it.

Bree didn't believe that.

She supposed it might be true. She had heard from these old-timers that human regimes in the past had been just as bad as the witches and that humans had done evil, horrible things to each other and to animals and to the land itself. But even so, even if they did deserve to be persecuted, that didn't mean they should allow it to happen.

Because, for one thing, Bree hadn't done any of those awful things herself. She didn't see why she was being held accountable for the actions of her species when she'd had no say in the things that happened before she was born. And for another thing, Bree didn't see much point in suffering for a long time. For a short time? For a moment? Okay, that made sense. If she touched a flame, and it burned, she learned not to touch it again. And if being under the rule of the witches taught humans to be better people, that was great. But there was no reason to sit and wallow in pain. Now, lesson learned, people should move forward.

Bree wasn't one of the revolutionaries or anything. She knew better than to join with them, considering they always ended up dead when they tried to march on the witches' cities. But she did think that if there were people powerful enough to stop the witches out there, they should at least try.

Jonquil was back. He had a book of matches between his teeth. He spat it out at Bree's feet. "These are what you need?"

She picked them up. "Yes, thank you."

"Good," said Jonquil. "We will bring you meat to cook, then. Will you wish to cook your fruit as well?"

Bree smiled. "No, the fruit is fine the way it is."

Jonquil inclined his head. "We want you to be happy here, Virgin Bree."

She struck a match against the strip, and it burst to life in bright flame. "You know," she said, "I think I could be."

CHAPTER SIX

"The old witch let you go, hmm?" Will Seale, sometimes called Will-o'-the-Wisp, stepped out of the tall trees of the forest in wolf form. Overhead, the sky was dark and the moon was bright.

Jack rushed forward to greet his old friend. The two wolves reared up on their hind legs and batted playfully at each other with their paws. Then they settled back. Jack sat on his haunches. "Well, she gave me some job to do on a witch, and I did it well, so she can wait while I have a run."

Will panted. "It's good to see you, old friend."

"Good to see you as well."

They stood in companionable silence for several moments.

"Do you want to run together?" said Will.

In response, Jack bounded into the air, leaping over a fallen tree branch and heading out into the woods. Will followed on his heels, and the two wolves moved together. They gamboled and scampered through the brush and between the trees. They paused to howl at the moon and then ran again.

Finally, spent, the two stopped and landed on the ground. They rolled onto their backs and then over onto their stomachs. Both lay their heads between their paws and panted happily. It was quiet between them for some time.

"I had the dream again," said Jack.

"What, just now?" said Will, laughing.

"No, when I stopped to nap earlier," said Jack. "On the way here."

"The dream with the unicorn?"

"The black unicorn," said Jack.

"And the girl," said Will. "The sexy girl, right?"

Jack rolled onto his back again. "Don't call her that. I don't have dreams like that." He didn't have desires like that. Maybe once, long ago, when he'd been an adolescent and being a concubine had still been new and exciting. But now, the coupling was only work. Sometimes it was enjoyable work, but he didn't have a fire in him for it, not the way most people did, certainly not the way the witches did.

"You're the one who brought it up," said Will.

Jack rolled back over, sighing.

"It could mean something," said Will.

"Oh, not this again," said Jack. "This is not why I brought it up."

"No?" Will laughed.

"Well, fine," said Jack. "Did you find anything out?"

"It's true," said Will. "What I said before is true. I talked to the pack about it. And the old alpha says that the wolves are tied to the moon—"

"But we aren't," said Jack. "Only for the first transition." A true werewolf changed similarly to a wolfwraith, slowly over the period of time it took from the bite until the moon was full. Unlike wraiths, however, the wolves could shift back whereas the wraiths never did, and eventually the wraiths bodies gave out and they died.

"Whatever the case, he says the the moon sometimes send portents of things to come," said Will. "The dreams may be a message, and you could be ignoring it at your peril."

"Even if I met some girl like that," said Jack, "I couldn't possibly have anything with her, because I do not belong to myself. I can't leave court. I can't abandon my mother."

"Perhaps it's not literal," said Will. "Maybe the girl symbolizes something. Maybe she symbolizes freedom."

"I'll never be free," said Jack.

"I think we should talk about raising a group of wolves to try to break your mother out," said Will.

"No," said Jack. "They'd all die, and when Zhanna found out, she'd take it out of our hides."

Will got to his feet. "She's a right bitch, my mother, isn't she?"

"She is," said Jack.

They were both quiet again.

"All I'm saying is that you shouldn't discount the dream," said Will.

Jack snorted. "A black unicorn? There haven't been any since a thousand years before the Collision. They don't exist."

"But if there was a black unicorn," said Will, "then Zhanna wouldn't stand a chance against it."

"There are no black unicorns."

* * *

Jonquil sniffed the air.

~Pleasant smell, isn't it?~ said Early. ~Who would have thought it would smell so nice?~

Jonquil snorted. ~I don't think it smells that nice. Nothing wrong with meat the way we eat it now. Raw.~

Early whined a little. ~You aren't curious if it tastes as good as it smells?~

~No.~ Jonquil was firm. He had gone too far with this one. He had let her ride his back and begun to feel tenderness towards her. But now she'd been given her fire and been allowed to cook her meat. There was no reason to get any further into this relationship. Or whatever it might be.

~I think you should go and ask if she'd share a bit with you. You could bring an extra strip of meat if she was only given a ration for one girl. Then bring it back so that I can try it.~

~And bring enough for me too,~ said Glade.

Jonquil glared at them both. ~Go ask her yourselves.~

~We can't,~ said Early. ~You know that we can't speak the human language.~

~Maybe you should learn,~ said Jonquil. And then he stalked off in search of some more purple grass. There was no reason to share food with the Virgin Bree. He should give her time to herself anyway. Surely she didn't want to be crowded by unicorns all the time.

Jonquil found another patch of grass. He began to chew on it, and he had to admit the cooking meat did smell very, very delicious. Maybe those humans were onto something with their fire and their cooking and—

~Please, Jonquil.~ Glade was right behind him. ~Go and ask her.~

Jonquil sighed. ~All right, all right. But only this once. I don't think we should have her cooking for us all the time. Wouldn't be proper.~

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next day, Bree woke up with a full belly. She was warm, having woken to tend the fire several times in the night. Even though she'd had to sleep on the hard ground, she was feeling better than she had in quite some time. She was also thinking that perhaps she'd ask Jonquil if she might not be allowed to go out and scavenge herself a bed roll or some blankets or something she could lay down on the ground to make herself more comfortable.

She wasn't sure what to make of Jonquil. Sometimes, he seemed so open and welcoming, telling her that they wanted her to be happy there and allowing her to ride on his back. But then other times, he was very prickly.

Like last night when he'd come over and asked if she would cook some extra meat so that the unicorns could try it. He'd been gruff with her, brusque, and she'd been certain that he wanted nothing to do with her.

The other unicorns, however, had seemed quite curious. They'd all pressed close while she made spits to spear the meat and set them over the fire. They'd watched with shining eyes, and when she'd served them each their own little piece of meat, they'd gobbled it down quickly.

Then Jonquil, even more grudgingly than before had asked her if she would please cook some more, and she'd agreed, rather delighted that the unicorns liked her cooking. She'd cooked up nearly all of the meat that the unicorns had, and Jonquil had been annoyed about this, grumbling that they were going to have to go hunting again.

But the other unicorns seemed very grateful. They'd all come close and pressed their noses into her neck and middle and hands and made soft nickering noises. She stroked them and laughed and felt buoyant, as if she were surrounded by floating white bubbles. Something about the unicorns lifted her spirits. Maybe she was their prisoner, but they seemed so lovely.

Overall, she couldn't say that she was truly happy now. The loss of Violet was too fresh, and she didn't appreciate being a prisoner. A unicorn followed her everywhere, even when she went out behind a tree to pee. So, she could stand to have a little bit of privacy and the chance to come and go as she pleased.

But she supposed that given the choice, she might not run away from the unicorns.

They could be... brutal, like the way they'd been with the deer, but truly they were gentle creatures. They didn't seem to want anything from her besides to put their heads in her lap, which she kind of liked. She didn't even mind that.

So, they were feeding her and protecting her, and she was helping them.

It wasn't a horrible arrangement. And in some ways, she'd felt some deep wound inside her start to mend when she'd cooked the meat for them. Feeding other creatures, caring for other creatures, it was almost like... like having a family again, and with Violet gone, she didn't have anything like that.

Maybe it was crazy, thinking of the strange creatures in that way, but she felt a connection with them. A bond was forming. And she found herself liking it.

* * *

When Will Seale first met Jack Bastian, he was a young boy of about five years old and Jack was nearly ten. Will had seen Jack before, but only in wolf form, and he hadn't paid much mind to the wolves, since he figured they were all boring and beneath him. His mother called them her playmates, and always brushed the wolves aside.

As a boy, Will never dreamed that he would become a werewolf or that he would so openly defy his own mother.

Back then, he thought of Zhanna as beautiful and lovely, and he longed for any chance he could get to be close to her. Admittedly, that was never often. Zhanna had given birth to him, and then only visited him occasionally. It was that way with many of the other witches' sons at court. Many witches were disappointed with sons, since they couldn't carry on magic. Girl children were pampered and doted on. Boy children were brushed aside.

So, though Will longed for affection and acceptance from his mother, he didn't think her cruel. He thought she was much the same as the other mothers at court. He thought his relationship with her was normal.

It was the discovery of Jack that morning, just a boy, naked and bound to the wall with a collar around his neck, that began to make Will think differently.

He remembered coming into the room and seeing Jack. He'd been astonished. "Why are you tied up like that?"

"I'm always tied up," said Jack. He cocked his head at Will. "You've seen me before. Whenever you come into the room, you see me on this leash."

"I see a wolf on a leash," said Will.

"That's me," said Jack.

"But..." Will was confused. "I thought the wolves were all mother's playmates, and you're far too young to be one of her playmates."

Jack let out a harsh laugh. "Well, she doesn't think so."

Will furrowed his brow. "I don't think it's fair," he said. "I didn't know that any of the wolves were young like me. I think you should be allowed to be my playmate, not mother's. You'd like it better, too, I swear. I wouldn't keep you on a leash all the time."

A sad smile from Jack. "I imagine I would like it better," he said. "But that's not to be. Go run along and play. Your mother wouldn't like it if you were talking to me."

"Oh, she's gone for a few days," said Will. "That's the only reason I came in here. She's always mad if I come in her room without her, but I thought if she was gone, she'd never know, and that I could explore."

"Days?" Jack was dismayed. "But she didn't leave me any food or water."

"I think I know where she keeps the key to your collar," Will said. "If I let you out, will you play with me? I'll put you back before she gets home. She'll never know."

"Please let me out," said Jack. "And find me something to eat? If you do that, I'll play any game you like."

Will never got an offer like that, not even from other boys his age. He gleefully found the key, rustled up some food for Jack, and the two spent the next two days together, playing games all over the castle. The witches lived in castles in those days before the Collision.

Thus began their friendship.

Before long, Will was letting Jack free whenever he could. Any time that he knew Zhanna would be free of the castle for some time, he sneaked in and the two boys roamed all over together until right before Zhanna was due back, at which point, Jack would have to go back to his place in Zhanna's room, chained to the wall next to her bed.

It went on that way for years, all through their boyhood.

And then, one day, they weren't fast enough. They had lingered playing, far too long past the time when Zhanna was supposed to be back. They were in the tall tower in the castle, pretending to have climbed up the tall mast of a ship, and they were pretending a storm was on the horizon. They both knew that the hour was growing late and that Zhanna could be returning any moment, but they didn't stop. Not until they saw the gates open and her carriage come into the courtyard.

Then, fast as they could, they raced down out of the tower and headed for Zhanna's bedchamber.

But they didn't make it there in time, and they met Zhanna in the hall.

She was livid.

Will had never seen his mother so angry. Generally, when he saw her, she wasn't paying much attention to him, and if she was, she seemed bored. She sometimes patted him on the head absently and said he was a good boy. He lived for moments like that.

But now, Zhanna was staring at him, her green eyes full of rage, and she was focused on no one else but him at that moment. "What have you done, boy?" she thundered.

"I..." Will sputtered. He pointed at Jack. "He's a better age to be my playmate. And besides, you have so many playmates, it just seems like you could share this one." After all, his nurses were always trying to teach him the value of sharing. He thought it was an argument that might universally sway adults.

"This is not a playmate," thundered his mother. "This is a... a thing. He is here to suffer."

"But why?" said Will.

"Because I enjoy watching him in pain."

Will was stunned by that answer. He had never really given it too much thought, but he realized that it must be uncomfortable, even painful, for Jack to spend all his life tied to the wall in his mother's room. His mother was hurting his friend, and she enjoyed that? But Will had been taught that hurting others was mean and wrong. He backed away, suddenly unsure if he even knew who his mother was.

"Would you like to see him in pain?"

Will shook his head.

"Then you will," said Zhanna. "You will, and it will punish you both." She snapped her fingers and one of her servants appeared. "Bring a club." She had Jack beaten to a bloody mess in front of Will, who screamed so much and tried so hard to save his friend that he had to be restrained.

Will couldn't believe his mother could do something so terrible. And he was frightened that Jack was dead.

But the next time that Zhanna left the castle, he went back to his mother's bedroom just to see if Jack was still there. He expected there might be some barrier to his getting in. A guard or something at the door. There was nothing. He would soon learn that Zhanna had no real interest in curbing behavior. She enjoyed inflicting punishment far too much for that.

Jack was there. What was more, he was whole, no scabs or bruises left.

"Wolves heal fast," said Jack. "You shouldn't worry too much about me."

"I'm going to get you away from my mother," said Will.

Jack shook his head. "You'd only get yourself killed. You mustn't try, Will."

Will would have. But it was impossible then. He was only a little boy. He didn't know how to even go about planning an escape. So, he let Jack believe that he'd given up on the idea. Secretly, though, he planned how he'd find a way to free his friend.

That first day, he didn't take Jack out of the room. He stayed and they talked, and that was all.

The next time Zhanna left, they felt a bit bolder, though, and soon things were back the way they had been. But they were much more cautious now. And Zhanna never caught them again.

Time passed. Soon, Jack was no longer a boy, but an adolescent, and he was stepping into a new role as a concubine. But the friendship between the boys didn't wane, even then.

And it was only a short time later that Will began going out into the woods to speak to the wild wolves. Most werewolves were confined to court, having been made at the request of the witches or of their own volition. But there were packs of wild wolves in the woods, men who'd been bitten and who had run from their families or men who'd gone out into the woods and sought out the wolves for their own reasons.

Will's idea was to get the wild wolves to come and free Jack. He thought that they would be upset when they learned of the horrible conditions that his friend lived under and that they would immediately rally to come and rescue him.

He searched through the woods for a long time on many different occasions and saw no sign of the wolves until one afternoon when he got thrown from his horse when the horse jumped over a bramble bush. Will went sprawling and the horse went galloping off through the woods, leaving Will alone.

It was dark in this part of the forest, tall trees reaching for the sky, their leaves blocking out the sunlight. Bramble bushes were everywhere, and as Will picked himself up, his shirt got caught on first one and then the other. By the time he was finally standing, he'd detached himself from at least five different thorns.

That was when he saw a different sort of bramble bush ahead of him. It was in the shape of an arch, and deep inside it, Will saw a light. There was something about the light that made him tingle. It hummed inside his bones, and he felt he had no choice but to follow the light.

So, he went through the arch. And he found the wolf pack. There were more wolves than Will thought he'd ever seen. White wolves and black wolves, red wolves and brown wolves, and they all stood in a semi-circle, growling at him.

"Please," said Will, "I've come to you for help."

One of the wolves stepped forward. He was old, with gray fur streaking his black pelt. He had a scar across one eye, a remnant of claws raking across his face. "You seek out the wolves?"

"Yes," said Will, "my friend is a wolf at court, and my mother—"

"There is only one outcome when one seeks out the wolves," said the old wolf, who was the alpha of the pack, but Will didn't know that yet. "You will be bitten."

Will froze, terror making his blood run cold. He looked behind him at the bramble arch and the dark forest. His path there was blocked by five different wolves.

The alpha growled. "Look at me, boy."

Will looked back at him.

"We can eat you," said the alpha. "Tear all your flesh from your bone. Or you can become one of us. Which would you prefer?"

Will's voice squeaked. "Uh... I don't want to be eaten."

The alpha chuckled. "No one ever does." And then he pounced on Will and sunk his teeth into his arm.

Will screamed in pain and fear.

The wolves all crowded close.

And then Will lost consciousness. When he woke up, the wolves were nowhere to be found. But he could feel the change beginning within his body. He left the woods and made his way back to the court. It was three and a half weeks until the next full moon.

Will didn't tell anyone what had happened. He was too frightened, too confused by it all. Perhaps some part of him hoped that if he didn't talk about it, it wouldn't have happened.

But within a week, the first signs were showing. He was growing gray fur under his arms, on his chest, and around his groin. His nails were starting to grow at an alarming rate, and the nails were tough and sharp. They were the beginnings of claws. But Will could hide these things, and so he did.

However, he did sneak in to talk to Jack. In a panicky voice, he told his friend everything that had happened. "I wanted to help you," said Will. "I only wanted to help."

"I told you not to," said Jack. "Now you're a wolf. You'll have to leave the castle or you'll be worth nothing more than a concubine. You know that your mother will never let a wolf marry a witch. You're worthless to her now."

"But you're a concubine," said Will. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Jack let out a noise very like a growl. "I don't want that life for you. Leave the castle, Will. You'll be on all fours within the fortnight."

It was true. The first transition from man to wolf was long and slow, and it didn't culminate until the next full moon. Only after that full moon would Will be able to shift back and forth between his wolf form and his human form.

Will lingered at the castle a bit longer. But one morning he woke up and his eyes had changed. They weren't the eyes of a man, but the iridescent, wild eyes of a wolf. That day, Will packed a bag of his belongings and left. He wished that he could stop to say goodbye to Jack, but he couldn't without endangering them both. So he slipped away.

He wandered in the woods until the full moon, all alone, doing his best to find the food that he needed. He looked for the other wolves, for the place with the bramble arch, but he couldn't find it.

It was only once the full moon was in the air, once he was truly and completely a wolf that he heard their howls and he bounded through the forest to join the others.

He never gave up on his idea to free Jack, but convincing the wolves to help him was another thing altogether, and the wild wolves were wary of the wolves at court.

Still, it wasn't all bad. As Jack worked himself up in the ranks of the concubines, he earned more and more freedom. He came to the woods to frolic with Will. Sometimes they crossed into the other world using the tears between the worlds. Together, they learned to make the lights that lured travelers into marshy bogs to be preyed upon.

The people of that world had names for them. Will-o'-the-Wisp. Jack-o'-the-Lantern. They were legends.

It wasn't freedom. It wasn't what he wanted for his friend. But at least he still had his friend. And at least he was free.

* * *

Violet had a knife over her head, and it was dripping blood. She stood in the middle of the small cabin, her face lit by the flickering firelight of the fireplace, and she bared her teeth like a monster. "Who's next?" she ground out.

The two men in the room were barely dressed, and they were both huddled over the body of their companion, who was dead on the floor, bleeding everywhere. One looked up at Violet. "You bitch," he snarled.

She laughed. "Call me names if you want. It'll be the last thing you fuckers say."

"Virgin Bree," said a voice echoing from the ceiling.

And Bree began to realize that this was only a dream. She shook it aside and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Where the hell was she?

The first thing she saw was Jonquil the unicorn.

Right. The unicorns. Being captured. She was a prisoner here, wasn't she?

That dream, that dream.

She hated that dream. It had really happened. It didn't matter that it was a long time ago, and the men had deserved it, and Violet was gone now too. In the dream, it felt like it was all happening right now.

"You were making noises in your sleep," said Jonquil.

Bree thrust out her chin. "Because I have to sleep on the hard, cold ground."

Jonquil stepped back, surprised by her forcefulness.

She hadn't shown them her anger yet, she supposed. She'd been too busy being afraid and awed in equal measure. But now, maybe it was time to be a little angry. Maybe the only way to deal with the dream was to be angry.

"You are uncomfortable, Virgin Bree?"

"Damned straight, I'm uncomfortable," said Bree. "Look, when we were walking yesterday, I saw a village back a ways. Let me go back there and do some scavenging. I'll come back with a bedroll for myself."

"You want to go into the village?" said Jonquil. "Why don't you simply tell me what it is that you want, and I will go and make sure that you get it."

"Like you got the matches?" said Bree. "Because you can't. There's no way that you can bring back a bedroll in your teeth. It's too big."

Jonquil seemed thrown by her hostile tone. "What were you dreaming of, Virgin Bree? Is it what has changed your disposition?"

"Do you have to keep calling me Virgin Bree? Why not just Bree?"

Jonquil backed away. "Perhaps it would be better if I let you have a bit of time to yourself."

"Yes," said Bree. "Let me go to the village and have some time alone. When I come back, I swear to you, I'll be much more cheerful, especially knowing I won't have to sleep on the ground anymore."

"I told you," said Jonquil, "I'll be happy to get for you whatever you require. I am a magical being, and I can transport things other ways than using my teeth." His nostrils flared at the last bit.

Oh. Well, she hadn't considered that. "But you don't know where to look. I'm a scavenger. It's what I do. I know how to find things, and I get into places that you can't."

"Tell me where to look."

"It's not as simple as that. There's a lot more to it. I have a lot of knowledge you don't have. I know what the old human houses might contain and what the stores are for. I know what to look for. It's got to be me."

"It can't be you." Jonquil's voice was flat.

"Why not?" Bree was feeling even more angry.

"Because we can't risk losing you," said Jonquil. "The last virgin we had was a pitiful thing. Nothing like you. She had no grit or fire. She spent all her time crying. She wouldn't eat, and she was wasting away. I sat down with her and looked into her dark-ringed, hollow eyes, and I asked her what would make her happy. She said she wanted to see her family, that it was some human holiday. Not the Winter Solstice, but close enough. Anyway, she begged and begged to be allowed to go, and eventually, we agreed."

Bree crossed her arms over her chest. "She didn't come back?"

"We weren't quite so stupid as that," said Jonquil. "We followed her to the house where she claimed her family was staying. But it wasn't a house in the village of Harmony, which was where she was from. Of course, knowing about you, perhaps the people of Harmony have simply been snatching virgins off the road for decades and giving them to us."

"No," said Bree. "I had a conversation with a girl in Harmony before they gave me to you. She said that her friend had disappeared and no one knew what happened to her."

"Well, whatever this house was," said Jonquil, "I do not think it was her family, because when she returned to meet us, we could smell her, and it wasn't pleasant."

"What do you mean?"

"She was no longer a virgin," said Jonquil. "She was of no use to us anymore, and she smelled spoiled and rotten. We had to turn her out. Then we had no virgin at all. We waited as long as we could, but eventually, we had to face the fact that we needed one, because there is not enough purple grass. So, we went back to Harmony and asked to be supplied with another one. You. We are not letting you go anywhere."

Bree sighed. "Of course you aren't."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jack arrived at dinner with Zhanna and her entourage about ten minutes late. He liked to arrive late, because it always made Zhanna annoyed that she couldn't control him. This time, however, he really couldn't help but be late. He'd received her message that she wanted his presence at dinner only when he returned to his human form after his extended run in wolf form and trip to see Will.

Zhanna had taken to using cellular phones, and she expected everyone in her court to carry one at all times. But it wasn't the least bit convenient to try to carry a phone in wolf form. Not to mention the fact that Jack couldn't text with his claws.

When he'd arrived back in the city, however, there had been about ten texts from Zhanna, each more threatening than the last.

He didn't bother to text her back when he got them. Instead, he got himself cleaned up, put on a pair of leather pants and a flowing white shirt that hung open over his chest, carefully applied paint to his eyes, and sauntered in to dinner late.

Zhanna was dining outside on the roof of the skyscraper where they lived. She had a garden up here, vines and flowers growing in wooden boxes against the roof with walkways between them. She said it reminded her of the gardens she'd had in the old world, when they'd lived in castles surrounded by savage landscapes, but there was nothing similar about her gardens back there and these gardens. Well, it was the same flowers, Jack supposed.

She had a table set up, surrounded by outdoor furniture—black cast iron swirling things with gray cushions. Everyone was in full regalia, the High Mistress's consort Caspar in a formal suit and Zhanna and her lady-in-waiting Gramercy in black witch costumes complete with hats. Everyone looked quite proper.

Except for the guest of honor, that is.

August Hunter, a mistress of the Way of the Wand, was lounging at one end of the table in a pair of jeans and a flowing blouse. She was dressed like a human, not a witch.

Truthfully, when off duty, lots of the witches adopted human clothing. They would never wear it out in public or in front of Zhanna, who insisted on formality, but most witches did find it all much more comfortable.

Jack smirked at the sight of her. Oh, this was rich. He'd been called in to impress August, because Zhanna liked nothing more than parading her pets in front of guests, but August had come in casual clothing, insulting Zhanna.

When Zhanna saw him enter, her eyes flashed with anger.

Jack snickered. He always found it amusing when she was angry. Of course, there was about a seventy percent chance she'd take her anger out on him, and only him. He stopped smiling and approached the table. He bowed low before them all. "Excuse my tardiness, mistresses." He nodded at Caspar. "Sir."

Caspar glanced at him, sniffed, and then looked away. Caspar didn't like him. He was jealous, because he spent too much time eating sweets and he'd developed a soft belly. Not that it mattered much. Zhanna wasn't interested in fucking her actual consort these days, no matter what he looked like. Caspar could get himself into amazing shape and she'd still ignore him.

Besides, Zhanna wasn't fucking Jack either, so it didn't matter at all.

Zhanna gave him an imperious look. "Jack Bastian, where have you been?"

Jack shrugged. "Away from my phone."

She narrowed her eyes. "You know you're not to be away from your phone, Jack. You know this."

Jack shrugged again. He turned to August. "Mistress August, I am deeply sorry. Had I known that I was to be dining with you, I would have made haste back to court. You are truly lovely."

August blushed. Her gaze flicked over his bare chest and then she became very interested in her plate. "And the stories of you do not do you justice, Mr. Bastian."

Oh-ho. Mr. Bastian, hmm? Well, she was polite, he'd say that for her.

"Do you find Jack enticing?" said Zhanna, leaning forward and starting to smile.

August looked up at her. "Oh, any woman would. I'm afraid I'm spoken for, however."

Zhanna made a funny strangled sort of laughing noise. "What do you mean? Spoken for? No true witch ties herself down to one man. It limits the amount of magic that a witch can perform."

Jack sidled over to the side of the table and threw himself down on a cushion. He hadn't been explicitly given permission to sit, but he'd be damned if he was going to stand there watching this conversation like an idiot.

Zhanna shot a hateful glance at him.

He smiled at her.

August was speaking. "Perhaps it does limit the quantity of magic, but I find that honing the connection with one man only leads to much higher quality magic. It's much stronger, and therefore I don't need as much. I wouldn't like it if my lover had another woman, so I don't think I should ask him to share me."

Zhanna scoffed. "How... adorable." From her tone, it was obvious she didn't mean it.

"I suppose it's not the way things are done in the big city," said August, beaming. She looked around her, at the rows of buildings that surrounded the roof. The cityscape was dark and blocky against the horizon. "But I've just never been very good at being sophisticated."

"Perhaps a few lessons?" said Zhanna.

August laughed. "Oh, you'd waste your time, High Mistress. I'm backward, and I can't help it."

"Yet," said Zhanna, "you seem so proud of it. Most people who are unsophisticated are ashamed."

"Oh, I think she's charming," said Jack idly. He smoothed a hand over the knee of his pants. "Really, Zhanna, if all the witches you threw dinners with were like this one—"

"Shut up, Jack," said Zhanna. "No one asked for your opinion."

August's eyebrows shot up.

Zhanna turned to her. "You don't approve of the way I reprimand my concubine?"

"Well, I wouldn't think it polite to say so, but if you really do want my opinion, then no, I don't."

Zhanna went rigid. The anger poured off her in waves. But when she spoke, her voice was controlled. "Well, aren't you honest?"

"My mother says I'm too honest," said August.

"She's not wrong." Zhanna sat back in her chair and dropped her handkerchief down over her plate. "I'm afraid I've lost my appetite."

"Oh, not because of what I said, I hope." August did seem genuinely concerned. "I really am quite sorry, High Mistress. Of course, you must reprimand Jack however you see fit, and what I think of it really doesn't matter, does it?"

"No," said Zhanna. "It doesn't."

Jack leaned across the table and helped himself to a chicken leg. He took a big bite of it and chewed. He hadn't had this kind of dinner entertainment in months.

"Don't be too hard on her, Zhanna," said Caspar, smiling at August. "She doesn't know much about the city. She's probably nervous, too, meeting the High Mistress for the first time. Aren't you nervous, dear?"

August shook her head. "Not really."

Zhanna made a noise in the back of her throat.

"Oh, my, High Mistress," said August. "Are you choking?"

Zhanna's face was getting red.

"I think she's choking," said August, looking around, her eyes wide. "Someone should do something."

"I'm not choking." Zhanna glared at August.

"Oh," said August. "Good, then." She turned her attention to her plate. Daintily, she picked up a chicken leg and took a bite.

"Jack!" snapped Zhanna.

"What?" he said.

"Did I say you could sit on a chair? You're nothing but a dog, and you should eat on the ground."

Jack hated Zhanna. She always knew just how to phrase something so that it hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. She was horrible, but he couldn't let her see that she'd gotten to him. She was too pleased to find she'd inflicted pain. He didn't move. He stayed in the chair, eating his chicken defiantly.

"Perhaps we might discuss the factories in New Jensurey," said August. "After all, that is why I've come to see you."

"You came because I invited you," said Zhanna, turning her attention back to August.

Jack realized that August had changed the subject to take the heat off of him, and he felt grateful to the girl. She wasn't quite as clueless as she appeared, it seemed. Perhaps she was playing dumb to manipulate Zhanna in some way. He wondered if she was up to something.

"Well, yes," said August. "That was all part of it. But when I considered your invitation, I asked myself what I could accomplish for the people in my part of the country if I came, and I thought that factory reform really might top my list of concerns."

"Factory reform?" Zhanna looked at her as if she were crazy. "What are you going on about?"

"It's only that it seems to me that we're running those humans ragged," said August. "In New Jensurey, they're always being injured, and then they can't work, and then their families are starving—"

"So, take them out to the woodshed and put them out of their misery," said Zhanna. "You still have woodsheds in New Jensurey, don't you?"

"New Jensurey doesn't have woodsheds," said August, knitting her brows together. "It's a city."

"This is a city." Zhanna gestured around at the rooftops.

"Killing them because they've been injured making products for us seems a tad, well, horrible." August laughed a little and then picked up another chicken leg.

Zhanna was so taken aback by that pronouncement, she seemed incapable of speech.

"And you're not horrible, High Mistress," August went on, taking a bite of chicken and chewing.

They all waited while she chewed and swallowed, no one saying anything.

"Are you?" said August.

Zhanna's eyes bulged.

August laughed again. "No, you're not. You're kind and good and fair. And if you know that your subjects are starving, why you'd want to allocate some funds to help them."

"Subjects?" Zhanna's voice wasn't strong. "Humans are hardly subjects. They're a step up from pack animals, truly."

"I can't think you really mean that," said August. "Listen, from a purely pragmatic perspective, it doesn't make sense to kill so many of them, anyway. They hardly reproduce quickly enough to refill the ranks if they were severely thinned. We need to take care of them if only to make sure that the factories continue to produce products."

Zhanna gave August a hard smile. "If they work, they eat. End of story. Perhaps we could talk of something else."

"Oh, certainly." August smiled back. "When I come back, I won't bring it up at all."

"When you come back?"

"Yes, if you could excuse me for a moment?" said August, standing up.

"Oh, by all means," said Zhanna.

Everyone at the table watched as she walked across the roof. When she disappeared back into the building, Zhanna got to her feet and began wringing her hands.

"Don't," said Caspar. "Sit down, wife."

She pointed at him. "I'll have no more comments from you."

"She's a stupid girl, Zhanna. Pretty, nice ass, but not much going on upstairs," said Caspar. "I'll have a word with her, tell her not to mention the kinds of things that she's bringing up, and—"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" said Zhanna, giving him a nasty look. "You'd very much like having a... word with her."

"Oh, by the Hallows, Zhanna, I'm not going to have sex with her or something," said Caspar. "You think I'm stupid enough to be unfaithful to you? You'd have me drawn and quartered most likely."

Zhanna tapped her chin, smiling softly. "Oh, I haven't watched a good drawing and quartering since the Collision. Do you suppose we could use cars instead of horses, or would that mean it was all over too quickly?"

Caspar made a face. He raised his hands, palm up. "Do what you want with her, then."

Zhanna sat back down. "Who says I want to do anything with her? You're all acting as if I'm going to have the girl killed." She lifted her napkin from her plate and peered underneath. "Trade plates with me, Caspar. I've found my appetite."

CHAPTER NINE

That night, Jonquil came back to the unicorns' encampment, which was among some tall, thin birch trees. He hurried over to Bree with a sleeping roll balanced on his back. "It's made of foam," said Jonquil. "I think it will be more comfortable than the ground."

Bree was stunned. "You went to get this for me?"

"Of course," said Jonquil. "I said that I would. We want you to be happy. If you are going to be as upset as you were this morning after sleeping on the ground every morning, I consider finding one of these for you a necessity."

Bree fingered the rolled-up foam. "I'm sorry I was the way I was this morning."

"You were dreaming," said Jonquil. "Was it the dream that caused it?"

"Sort of," said Bree, sighing. "It's more a memory than a dream, though. Something that happened a long time ago."

"What is it?" The unicorn's voice was gentle.

Bree sighed. "I don't need to talk about it. It doesn't matter."

"Perhaps I would like to listen," said Jonquil.

She hesitated. And then she nodded. "All right, I'll try to explain. After the Collision, it was just me and my sister out in the world together. For the first few years, we survived because we were young—too young for people to hurt us. They tried to protect us, because many of them had lost children of their own, and they thought of us as surrogates for those children. But we could never stay with those adults for various reasons. Sometimes they were killed and sometimes the witches came and they sent us off into the night to run and run. It went on that way for years. And Violet, that's my sister, after a while she wasn't so young, and when we met people—when we met men alone—they looked at her differently."

Jonquil nodded. "Because she was now old enough to be a mate. I understand. Even amongst unicorns, we have mates."

Bree cocked her head to one side. "Do you have a mate?"

"No," said Jonquil. "I am too... human."

"Because you talk?"

He made a grunting noise. "Let's return to your story, Virgin Bree."

She rolled her eyes at the use of the name. But... well, maybe it was growing on her a little bit. "Well, the thing is, Violet wasn't old enough to mate, not really. I mean, maybe her body was mature, but we were still children. In some ways, we were very mature, because we'd had to take care of ourselves for so long and we'd seen so many bad things. But in other ways, we weren't at all."

"You had lost your childhood," said Jonquil, "and so when you had a chance to do something silly or frivolous, you took it and enjoyed it."

"Yes," said Bree, eyeing the unicorn. Was it silly and childish to become so attached to these unicorns so quickly? Because even though she was trying with all her might to fight it, all she could feel was awe and gratefulness. Maybe she was simply pathetic. No one but Violet had ever cared whether she starved or froze. Now, she was so desperate for any kind of affection, she'd take the unicorns.

Well. It didn't matter. She couldn't escape. She thought of trying to get past those long, sharp horns, and she knew that she'd never make it.

"Anyway," Bree said quietly, "eventually some of the men did... things to Violet, even though she was still a child. They tied me up and left me back with the horses, and they took her near the fire, and I heard her screaming."

"Oh, Virgin Bree," said Jonquil.

"It was okay, though," said Bree. "Because the first chance we got, we hunted those men down and Violet killed them all. She had to. They deserved it. And it made her feel better. But sometimes I still dream about it. There was... there was a lot of blood." She licked her lips.

"I'm so sorry," said Jonquil. "Even amongst the unicorns, we sometimes hurt each other. In the past, long before the Collision, there were wars over territory, wars over mares, wars over purple grass. It has happened before. In our case, though, the Collision has curbed conflict between herds. But I am afraid it has fractured yours. It seems that humans were better to each other before the Collision."

Bree laughed a little, fingering the the bedroll again. "I don't know if that's true. But we did used to have laws and punishments for the guilty. Now, there's nothing except the power of the witches, and they hurt anyone, no matter if they've done anything or not."

"We have long been enemies of the witches," said Jonquil.

"But you don't fight them," said Bree. "You give them their space, and they give you yours. Do your species have a truce or something?"

"Yes," said Jonquil. "There was another war, a great war, between the unicorns and the witches. It was a thousand years ago, and we worked out a peace amongst us. The unicorns stick to the peace as best we can, but the witches sometimes cross boundaries. We will fight them when they do so, if it is necessary. Usually it isn't. Simply the threat of unicorn retaliation was enough to keep the witches away from Harmony for fifteen years. That was our deal with those humans. Keep the witches back in exchange for virgins."

"Keeping the witches back doesn't stop them," said Bree.

"What makes you think we could stop them?"

"Everyone says that you're more powerful than them. That you're the only ones who could stand up to them and win."

Jonquil sighed.

"It's not true?" Bree wasn't surprised. So many things were simple distortions of the truth to give sad people hope.

"It might be true," said Jonquil. "But the last full witch-unicorn war was thousands of years ago, and there were so many lost, so many killed that the unicorns don't feel it was worth it. We have vowed not to fight them again. And back then, we had a black unicorn."

"Black unicorns are real?"

"Used to be," said Jonquil. "But one hasn't been seen in a long, long time." He snorted and shook out his mane. "All this talking is tiring me. You should get some sleep, Virgin Bree. We leave in the morning."

"Where are we going?" said Bree.

"Only you know that," said Jonquil. "You claimed you knew where the fields of purple grass were. Take us there, and perhaps we'll see about letting you go and scavenge on your own."

"Really?" said Bree.

Jonquil gave her something quite like a smile. And then he trotted off into the darkness.

Bree made herself a small fire and then laid out her bedroll. She slept like a rock.

In the morning, Jonquil was there, urging her to eat breakfast before climbing atop his back. She and the unicorn led the herd out of the woods in the opposite direction of the rising sun. Towards the fields of purple grass.

* * *

"I saw her, I say." The voice carried across conversation in the pub on the outskirts of the city of New Ansel. "Coming right out of the woods, she was. Riding a unicorn."

Rowan Warren was an adept of the Way of the Wand, but she'd been sent to the city as a peace offering between the two orders of witches. Before the Collision, there had been friction between them. The Way of the Broom had always been considered too violent and unstable for their own good. The Way of the Wand had sought to contain them as much as they could.

But now, here in this new world, where the Way of the Broom had set up court in the middle of cities and sent armies of humans to work in factories to make all the things the witches desired, well... it was harder and harder to resist them.

The Broom magic had always been a bit more powerful than the Wand magic. Darker magic always is.

But just because she was assigned to stay here and make nice with the Broom witches didn't mean that Rowan quite liked doing it.

Rowan adjusted her conical hat. They were all required to wear them here. She'd managed to get out of the requirement of the voluminous black lace skirts by donning a long leather coat that reached her ankles. She could close it, and it almost resembled a dress. It seemed to pass muster. She threaded her way across the bar, which was full of humans who worked in the mines out here. The Collision had put in a vein of rich coal from the world of the witches, and the men were here to get it out.

Most witches didn't come to human bars, but that was Rowan's job. She was here to watch and listen. If she heard any whispers of anything like discontent or revolution, she was to report it so that it could be squashed.

For her part, Rowan had kept quiet when ordered to do the job. She'd considered telling the High Mistress that she'd probably get more accurate information if she could dress like a human and pretend to be one of them. Most revolutionaries weren't going to be speaking in front of a witch in full costume. But Rowan found herself sympathizing with the humans at times. She thought they were badly treated. Certainly, they could be better rewarded for their work, and the quality of the work would improve. So, she didn't say anything.

After all, the humans' revolutions were all doomed.

But this... what this drunk man was saying on the opposite side of the bar was interesting. A girl riding a unicorn?

Like all witches, Rowan had no love for unicorns. They were long-lived species. The war between them might have been a thousand years ago, but that didn't mean that some of the witches who fought in it weren't still living.

Unicorns and humans banding together? Well, Rowan didn't think that was something the High Mistress would much like.

She pushed her way through the crowd until she found the man who was speaking. "Repeat it," she ordered.

The man looked at her, choked with fear. "What? Me?"

"About the girl on the unicorn," said Rowan. "I want you to start at the beginning and tell me everything."

CHAPTER TEN

Jack stood at the servants' entrance to the kitchens, which was at the bottom of the building that Zhanna called home. Will was just inside the door in human form. He was wearing a big hooded cloak that obscured his features, but he pulled it down to smile at his friend.

"You shouldn't be here," said Jack.

The kitchen had once belonged to a catering company located in the building before the Collision. It had three enormous stainless steel sinks in a row, miles of counter space, and two eight-burner stoves. The light in the room was dimmed, and it was empty for the night.

"I know that," said Will. "But I needed to talk to you."

"I was in the forest with you days ago," said Jack. "You couldn't have told me then?"

"Didn't know about it then," said Will. "Damned woman sprung it on me the morning after you left."

"What woman?" said Jack, who was feeling incredibly confused. There were no women amongst the wild wolves, of course, and he had never heard of a witch taking up residence with the pack.

"Her name is August Hunter," said Will. "I don't know if you've had a chance to meet her yet. She only arrived at court today."

"Oh, I met her," said Jack, smirking. "She made quite an impression on Zhanna. That August woman knew all the wrong buttons to push. I'm still not sure if she did it on purpose or if she was just that young and stupid."

"She's not stupid," said Will. "Very brave, though. I warned her not to tangle with Zhanna, and she wouldn't listen to me. She was determined to come to court. Said she couldn't refuse an invitation from the High Mistress, anyway, and I suppose she was right about that. Still, I would have thought she would have been a bit less brazen her first day."

"Well, she wasn't," said Jack. He leaned up against one of the sinks. "How do you know her, anyway?"

"She and I are, uh, involved."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Wait, you're the man who speaks for her?"

"She mentioned me?"

"She declined my company on account of you," said Jack.

Will drew himself up. "Well, good. And if you were to ever touch her—"

"Relax," said Jack. "I don't think that's going to be a problem. Zhanna's definitely not in the mood to give me out as a favor to someone like that."

Will dragged a hand over his face. "But she angered Zhanna? How much did she anger her?"

Jack shrugged. "Who can say with that dreadful woman? She sometimes does horrific things on a whim."

Will put a finger in Jack's face. "You must look out for her."

"For Zhanna?"

"For August." Will let out a growling sound.

Jack chuckled. "So, that's why you're here?"

"I followed her to court, didn't I?" said Will. "But I can't be there all the time. I can't see what is happening to her at every moment."

"I can't be there either."

"You can do better than me," said Will. "I need your help with her. She's important to me."

Jack let out a sigh. "I'll do my best."

"No, not good enough." Will jammed his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. "I want a promise that you won't allow anything to happen to her. Not a hair on her head harmed."

"Only fools make promises like that," said Jack. "What are you thinking, anyway? She's a witch. You're a wolf. You've somehow managed to convince her to commit exclusively to you, but that must only be because she's some country bumpkin who's never seen the world—"

"You don't know her."

"Two weeks at court, and she'll have a different concubine in her bed every night."

"No." Will shook his head. "She's different. And it wasn't my idea that she was faithful to me. She was the one who said that it only made sense to require fidelity of both of us. She said she couldn't expect something of me that she couldn't expect of herself. She's very egalitarian. She has lofty ideas."

"I heard some of those lofty ideas at dinner," Jack muttered. "She's gotten herself into a heap of trouble, Will. I don't know if I have the capability to protect her."

"Please, Jack. For me," said Will.

Jack wandered away from his friend, running his fingers over the counters. "I'll do it, but you're crazy to ask it of me. She's a woman, and women are as changeable as the tide. You shouldn't devote yourself to a witch." He turned to fix Will with a glare. "You, of all people, should know better after everything you saw growing up."

"August is different."

Jack shook his head. "No. They're all the same."

"Listen, you don't know," said Will. "I appreciate that you think of yourself as my big brother or something, my protector. But your experience with women is tainted. You're a plaything. You're used. You're not respected—"

"They respect my power," Jack interrupted, advancing on Will. "I can reach into their minds and break things."

"No, I know that, but that's not the kind of respect I mean. I mean mutual respect. I mean treating you like an equal. You've never felt that. You don't understand. And I want it for you, Jack. You're like a brother to me, and I would do anything to get you free of this dreadful place—"

"Stop it." Jack hung his head, staring at the palms of his hands. "Just go. I'll protect your woman."

Will hesitated. "I'll be close. I won't go far. I'll be watching over her from afar."

"I said I would protect her."

Will pointed at him. "Not a hair on her head harmed."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, Will. She'll be whole. I promise you. I won't let anything happen to her."

* * *

Zhanna was not in the mood to be interrupted. She was intent on taking a long, luxurious bath in which she would determine what it was she wanted to do with a certain witch of the Way of the Wand who had put her out of sorts earlier in the evening. She knew that she couldn't allow August Hunter's actions to stand, but she didn't know exactly how it was that she wanted to deal with the young witch either.

The fact that Caspar kept begging for clemency for her made her twitchy, however.

Zhanna hurried through the halls of the building and paused in front of the elevator. She pushed the button for up, but the elevator was occupied. Damn it.

Zhanna didn't have anything like affection for Caspar. For anyone, really. She never had. As a younger witch, she'd felt a bit wistful about it. Conceiving that dreadful whelp Will had been her attempt to force herself to feel love for something.

It hadn't worked. Even while pregnant, she'd felt nothing but resentment for the little being growing in her womb. And when he'd come out wrinkly and squalling, she'd only felt repulsion.

She'd been disappointed. She had thought that everyone loved their children. And besides, people went on and on about how wonderful it was to love something. Zhanna had begun to feel as if she must be missing out, and she'd wanted something of her own to love. But she couldn't love that little red, yelling baby. No, no, no.

And she didn't love Caspar. Never had. Never would.

But that didn't mean that she liked it when Caspar showed favor to other women. The fact that August had charmed Zhanna's consort couldn't be allowed to stand.

The elevator door swung open.

Rowan Warren was inside. "High Mistress, I'm glad I ran into you. I was looking for you."

Zhanna's lip curled. She didn't have much patience for Rowan, who was supposedly a gift from the Way of the Wand, but really more of a pain. She briefly contemplated burning the stupid witch to ash where she stood, but if Zhanna killed Rowan now, the High Mistress realized she'd always be curious as to why the woman was looking for her. Better to hear her out and then destroy the stupid witch.

Zhanna stepped onto the elevator. "Oh?"

"I have news," said Rowan. "It concerns the unicorns." The elevator doors whooshed closed.

Zhanna's brow furrowed. "Oh," she said in a different voice. Unicorns were not anything to trifle with. They were far more powerful than they had any right to be, and could be quite dangerous when they wanted to be. Luckily, they were pansy-asses, to borrow from the vernacular of the human world. They cared more about keeping the peace than destroying their enemies.

If the witches had the means to wipe out the unicorns—or to use them as slaves, like the humans and the werewolves—Zhanna wouldn't hesitate to do it at once. But that was a risky proposition, and so it was better to leave the unicorns to their own devices.

Zhanna reached out and hit the button for the top floor. The elevator began to move.

"There have been reports of a group of unicorns heading west. They are being led by a girl riding on the back of a unicorn."

"Riding on its back?" said Zhanna. "You're sure?"

"I didn't see it myself, but I spoke to three other people who did," said Rowan. "One was at a bar on the outskirts of the city, and he directed me to two others who saw it as well."

"Why would they be heading west?" Zhanna muttered. "I wonder if they're heading out to the fields of purple grasses. But we've worked so hard to keep those a secret from the unicorns." The last thing she needed was a bunch of unicorns with unlimited magic roaming the earth. "Damn, damn, double damn."

"I couldn't be sure where they are going, High Mistress," said Rowan. "But don't you think it's a bit concerning to think of the unicorns teaming up with a human girl? If the unicorns form an alliance with the humans, that could spell trouble for us."

"Is that what you think is happening?" said Zhanna. "An alliance between races?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of a unicorn letting anyone ride it. They aren't horses, and they make sure that we all know it."

"Perhaps a virgin," said Zhanna. "They take their power from virgins after all. But if they're going out to that grass, they wouldn't need a virgin." It didn't make sense. From what Zhanna knew of unicorns, taking power from a virgin tended to be a solitary event. A unicorn, wandering off on his own, would smell the sweetness of a virgin girl. Even witch girls drew them. But of course virgin witches had no power of their own, since they drew their power from sexual encounters. Anyway, the unicorn would sniff out the girl and lay his head in her lap. Charged up with her magic, he would then gallivant off on his merry way. It wasn't a situation that usually involved riding.

But she wondered what might happen if a particularly cunning virgin girl might happen on a group of unicorns. Unicorns were stupid about virgins. A virgin might be able to manipulate them. If this girl had an entire herd doing her bidding... Oh, dear.

"You were right to come to me," she said to Rowan. "This may be very, very bad for us. I need you to find out everything that you can about the unicorn girl. If necessary, we will take action."

Rowan nodded her head. "I'll do my best, High Mistress."

The elevator door opened and Zhanna walked out.

Rowan made as to follow her.

But Zhanna gave her a severe look. "That will be all, Rowan." She left the elevator.

The doors closed on Rowan.

* * *

It took many days of walking to reach the purple grass. It was further even than Bree had remembered, probably because she'd never attempted to take a direct route to the place, but had only happened upon it by taking the meandering path she and Violet followed around the country. As scavengers, the girls had wandered from one outpost to the next, talking to other scavengers to find out where to hit next. Sometimes, if people in one village requested something specific, and the girls were sure they could get good payment for it, they'd go in search of whatever it was they'd been asked for, even if it meant that they went far, far from anything familiar.

Over the years, they went most everywhere, but that didn't mean that Bree had any real sense of how long it might take to get from one point to the other, since she had never traveled purposefully like that.

When she and the unicorns did arrive, it was exactly as she remembered. They crested over a hill in the late afternoon sunlight and the grass stretched out in front of them as far as the eye could see. It waved in the breeze and reflected back the sunlight, looking even brighter purple than usual. It was beautiful.

Bree let out a whoop, and the unicorns in the herd broke loose, all running down the hill.

Bree jumped off of Jonquil's back, laughing. She fell to the ground and rolled down the hill as the unicorns rushed down around her, their manes and tails streaming out behind them.

They let out high, sweet noises, a song of sorts, and as they began to eat the grass, they sent up plumes of bright purple sparks. Magic like fireworks in the afternoon.

Bree lay in the grass and stared up at the sky, grinning.

Jonquil looked down at her, his face looming large. "Thank you, Virgin Bree. You have brought us here at last, and it is exactly as you said. We will stay here for some time."

Bree reached up to stroke the unicorn's neck. "Good," she murmured. She was happy.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Weeks passed without incident, and Jack was certain he'd dodged a bullet with Zhanna. In fact, she seemed preoccupied. She only sent for him at night two or three times, and he didn't have to sleep tied to her wall with that uncomfortable collar around his neck. There was definitely no word about August Hunter, and that was good news. Jack had given his word to Will, and he'd do whatever he could to keep the girl safe.

In fact, he spent most of his time tailing the young witch, who was extremely cavalier with her safety. She insisted on dressing in casual human clothes. Only for a banquet did he see her in a full costume, with the conical hat and dress—but the dress and hat were white, not black, which was completely unacceptable. Silly girl looked like a frothy dessert instead of a witch.

At a luncheon one afternoon, August picked up one of the brooms of a witch in Zhanna's court, one called Adelle. Adelle wasn't quite as vicious as Zhanna, but she too had a taste for cruelty. She certainly wasn't one to be poked.

"I've always wanted to learn to ride one," August said, stroking the broom. "I know my order doesn't use brooms, but I feel as though maybe we limit the magic of the Hallows. It is large and expansive. Certainly there must be room for both wand and broom in one witch."

The witch she was talking to nearly choked on her wine.

Jack inserted himself into the conversation at that point, snatching the broom from August and putting it firmly aside. "Mistress, I wonder if I might have a word," he said, taking her by the arm and leading her to a private corner.

She shook him off. "Why are you always around me? I've told you that I'm not interested. I am spoken for."

"I'm not pursuing you romantically, mistress," he said, glaring at her. "At court, men don't do the pursuing, anyway, something you might have noticed if you spent any time looking around yourself instead of constantly inserting your foot as firmly into your mouth as you can."

She drew back. "What?"

He sighed. "Have a care, mistress. You are a white dove in a den of lions."

"I don't understand anything that comes out of your mouth," said August. "Truly, you're quite nice to look at, but I'm not convinced you're all there upstairs." She tapped her temple.

Jack gaped at her. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"Sorry." She wrinkled up her nose. "That was a bit offensive, wasn't it?"

He stalked off. If it were anyone besides Will...

But it was Will. Which meant that Jack was present at the banquet when one of the other witches attempted to make a concubine a gift to August, and August refused the gift with very little tact.

He had to rush in again, smoothing things over with the witch. "I'm afraid," he said, kissing the woman's hand, "that August is a bit spoiled when it comes to men. I assure you, when she's done with her current engagement, she'd be quite happy to accept your generous offer. In fact, she'll have breakfast sent to your chambers tomorrow morning. At what time would you like it?"

The other witch requested breakfast in bed at eleven in the morning and gone away with her concubine happy.

But August was livid. "Why did you imply to that woman that I was sleeping with you? I have told you—"

"I didn't imply it," he said.

"You did. You made it very clear to her—"

"All I said was that you were spoiled. I imagine something spectacular must happen between you and Will in the bedchamber. I can't see any other reason why he's so taken with a completely infuriating person such as yourself."

August was speechless for once in her life.

"You're welcome," said Jack, and started to take his leave of her.

She caught him by the arm. "You know Will?"

"Quite well," said Jack. "He didn't mention that we were friends?"

"The only time we spoke of you, he seemed to be worried that I would take one look at you and fall head over heels or something. But I find you to be a very arrogant and very presumptuous sort of person. I really don't like you if you want to know the truth."

Jack regarded her blandly. "As always, mistress, it's been a pleasure to speak with you. I'll go now, if you don't mind."

"Wait," she said. "How do you know Will?"

"We've known each other since we were boys," said Jack. "He grew up in this court. Didn't he tell you that?"

She bit down on her lip, looking confused. "Are we talking about the same Will?"

"Yes, I assure you, we are," said Jack. "He came to me and asked that I keep my eye on you. Made me promise that I would keep you from harm. Which you haven't made easy, let me tell you. But I wonder why he would conceal his past from you."

August looked troubled. "I'm sorry," she said, "but you'll have to excuse me." And without waiting for a response, she took her leave.

* * *

"Oh, thank goodness you're not late this time," muttered Zhanna, who was stretched out on her bed wearing nothing but an oversized black tank top, which was riding up on her thighs.

Jack, who'd come into the room from the door that faced the bed, averted his eyes to avoid seeing anything. "You sent for me?" he asked the floor.

Zhanna sat up, angry. "By the Hallows, Jack, it's not as if you've never seen a cunt before."

He raised his gaze to meet hers. "My apologies, mistress," he said in an even tone.

She flounced back on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. "I really hate you, you know."

"You've said as much on various occasions." Jack was waiting. He wasn't sure whether Zhanna had invited him up here for another bout of attempting sex together or because she had a task for him. He hoped it wasn't the former. The fact that he could never find her attractive made her incredibly angry, and he didn't know what sort of punishment she'd dream up for him this time.

She rolled over, lying on her stomach with her head on a pillow, gazing out sideways at the windows on the opposite side of the room. "Oh, Jack, you have no idea all the things I've been worried about lately. It's not easy running a country. Not easy at all."

"No, mistress."

She turned back to him, rolling her eyes. "Is that all you're going to do? Act like some kind of dumb puppet, only saying what you think I want to hear?"

Jack put his hands in his pockets. "I await my mistress's pleasure."

She sighed. "No, you don't. You most certainly do not. You do the exact opposite, and we both know it."

Jack didn't say anything. She hadn't asked a question. It didn't technically require a response.

Zhanna got up on her hands and knees and crawled across the bed toward him. "But as much as you pretend otherwise, I know you take pleasure in serving me."

He could see down her tank top, see her small, firm breasts. This time he didn't look away. He was silent, staring at her.

"You like the little tasks that I find for you." Zhanna reached the end of the bed. She smiled at him, parting her lips. "Admit it. Not everything you do here is utter torture."

"Not everything," he said, just to appease her. She thought that a tiny bit of sensual pleasure made up for losing his freedom and losing his mother's freedom. She was wrong, but it wouldn't do to argue with her about it. He didn't like the way she was acting. It was making him nervous. She was going to try to seduce him again, wasn't she?

She rearranged herself, settling down on the bed and crossing her legs. She patted the space next to her.

He didn't want to sit next to her, but he couldn't refuse. So, he lurched forward and sat down. At least she hadn't ordered him into wolf form. That was one thing to be grateful for, anyway.

Now, they were close. Inches between them.

She reached over and stroked his jaw with her long fingers. "I saw you speaking with August Hunter at the banquet last night."

"Yes," he said, suddenly worried. He'd thought she'd forgotten all about August. If he'd brought the girl back to Zhanna's attention by saving her last night, then he hadn't saved her at all.

"I asked around, and I heard that she was denying other concubines in favor of you."

"That's a misunderstanding," said Jack. "It's as she said when we dined with her before. She's spoken for."

Zhanna laughed softly, and her fingers trailed down over Jack's neck. "You're mine, Jack. You don't sleep with witches unless I tell you to."

"I'm aware, mistress." He swallowed. Her fingers felt like spider legs crawling over his skin.

"Were you taken with her, the way Caspar was?" said Zhanna. "Couldn't help yourself. Had to have some of that sweet, idiot pussy?"

"No." Jack practically growled it.

She snatched his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. "Well, it doesn't matter if you were. Because now you will." She let go of him.

He swallowed again. "What do you mean?" He tried to keep the concern from his voice, but it wavered just a little bit.

Zhanna got up off the bed and went to the window. "I don't like her."

Jack didn't say anything.

Zhanna rested her forehead against the glass. "I want her broken. Tonight."

Jack's hands clenched into fists, and then he released them.

She turned to look at Jack, eyebrows raised. "What? No protests? No attempts to save your lover?"

"She's not my lover," said Jack. "I do as you command. If you wish her broken, that is what I will do."

CHAPTER TWELVE

August was standing behind the punch bowl, her nose wrinkled up as she scooped the ladle through it over and over again. Though it was a formal banquet, she wasn't wearing her conical hat, though she had at least donned a dress. It wasn't proper, however. It was a slinky little purple thing without straps. She looked quite pretty, and she stood out against all the other witches, which made things even more difficult for Jack.

He made his way through the room for her, jaw clenched. It was better if it was public anyway.

She looked up at his approach. "Oh, hello, Jack. There's something definitely wrong with this punch. It doesn't taste right."

"I believe it's spiked with liquor, mistress," he said.

She nodded slowly. "That would explain it." She raised a finger. "What am I to make of the card I received from the High Mistress giving me the gift of your company for the evening? I have specifically told her that I'm not interested."

He grabbed her by the arm. "It's best if you play along this time. If you don't, it will only make things worse."

She looked confused. "I don't understand."

"Smile at me," said Jack. "Take my arm. And let's leave the room together."

"No," she said. "People will think that I'm going to bed with you, and I would never—"

"We are leaving this room together, and we are going to your bedchamber," said Jack. "It has to be that way. Don't fight it or I may not be able to stop very bad things from happening to you, and I promised my dearest friend that I would keep you safe."

"But—"

"Stop," said Jack. "Mistress, for once, do as you're told. This is a matter of your safety."

She looked over her shoulder hesitantly, as if she expected to see an assassin there, ready to shoot her. Which, in reality, wasn't that far off from the truth.

He offered her his arm.

She took it, looking nervous.

"All right," said Jack. "Now, laugh a little, as if I've said something very funny."

"Why?"

"Do it," said Jack. "She's watching."

"Who is?" August was alarmed.

"Stop acting afraid," said Jack. "Laugh."

August let out a very unconvincing, forced laugh. It would have to do.

He dragged her across the floor of the banquet. She clung to him, and he could feel that she was genuinely afraid. She was shaking.

He put an arm around her reassuringly. He ushered them both to the elevator.

Zhanna was there.

Oh, Hallows help him, this couldn't work. Certainly Zhanna would notice that August was frightened, not eager to try to sleep with him. He whispered, "Act drunk," in August's ear.

August shot him an odd look.

But there was no time to explain.

Zhanna raised her eyebrows. "I see you've decided to take me up on my offer, Mistress August, despite the fact that you are spoken for."

Jack slammed her head down against his shoulder. "She's had a bit too much to drink, High Mistress."

Zhanna didn't look pleased. "She is willing to be with you, isn't she? She's not practically going to pass out?"

Jack hesitated, unsure of what to say or do.

But August suddenly surprised him. She pushed away from him, adopting a stumbling gait. She gave Zhanna a big smile. "Oh, I'm most definitely willing, High Mistress." She let out a wild, high-pitched giggle and lurched sideways, colliding with Jack.

Jack caught her, giving Zhanna an ironic smile.

Zhanna laughed. "Have fun then." She gestured to the elevator.

Jack helped August inside.

They waited for several interminable moments for the doors to slide closed, just staring at Zhanna's leering smile. But eventually, the doors did close.

August's head snapped up. "What is going on?"

Jack shook his head at her. "She might still hear us," he said in a low voice. He gestured at the buttons on the elevator, indicating she should select the floor her bedchamber was on.

She hit the button for the fifteenth floor. They began their ascent.

"You're not a gift, are you?" said August. "She wants you to... do whatever you do to those poor women she doesn't like."

"Yes," said Jack. "You deliberately provoked her. I'm not sure why you would think she'd do anything otherwise with you."

August folded her arms over her chest. "Well, it's not going to work. From what I understand, a witch's defenses have to be down. She has to let you in. And I'm not going to do that. I won't be intimate with you, and you won't be able to—"

"Don't be foolish, mistress," said Jack. "I have no intention of causing you harm."

The elevator door opened.

He put his arm around her again. "Keep up the charade," he whispered tightly.

They left the elevator, and August let out a wild giggle.

The hallway was nondescript. The elevator shaft went up the middle of the building. The hallway formed a square around the shaft, and doors to various apartments that witches lived in were off the hallway.

"Which one?" asked Jack.

August pointed, still laughing.

They made their way down the hallway and into the room. He shut the door behind him and let go of August.

She put a hand to her forehead and leaned against the door. Her apartment was one of the smaller, studio-style rooms. There was a kitchen area tucked into one corner and a bed in the other. A couch between them was meant to indicate a living room area. It was a far cry from the room where Zhanna lived, which was the penthouse suite and spanned two stories.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," said August.

"Well, give me some credit," said Jack. "I do have a plan."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I know you think I'm some sort of dimwit," he said, "but I have managed to survive at court for several centuries, so I assure you that I know something." He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Will. He'd have to delete the call from his log afterward. There was no telling when Zhanna would demand to examine his phone. She wouldn't like knowing he was in contact with her son.

"I'm sorry I said that," said August, twisting her hands together. "It's only that I wanted to keep you away from me. I didn't understand why you kept following me around, and I thought perhaps if I insulted you, you would leave me alone."

"It's fine. Don't give it another thought." He clutched the phone to his ear. It was ringing on the other end. He nodded at the other end of the room. "Open your window."

"Why?" said August.

"Just do it," said Jack.

The phone picked up. "Jack?" said Will's voice.

"Fifteenth floor," said Jack. "We're opening the window for you."

August was standing at the window, but staring at Jack. "Who are you talking to?"

"Will," said Jack. "Now, open the window."

"Can I talk to him?"

"You'll see him in a moment," said Jack.

"I will?"

Rolling his eyes, he strode across the room, pushed her aside and opened the window. He stuck his head out and he could see the window-washer platform being lowered from a pulley. That would be Will, then.

He ducked back into the room. "Right. So, the story that I'm going to tell is that I broke your mind and broke it good. And that when I woke up in the morning, you were gone, and I have no idea what happened to you. I'll stay here overnight to sell the story. You, however, are going out the window with Will. You'll need to lie low for, well, forever. Sorry about that. But you and Will can live in the forest together and it'll be terribly romantic."

August's lips parted. "What?"

Then Will appeared at the window. "August!" he said.

She ran over to him. "How...?"

"It's for washing windows," said Will. He pointed. "See, there's a pulley. This is how we'll sneak out. Zhanna will never know."

She gaped at them. "You want me to run away?"

Jack let out a noisy breath. "You think there's another option?"

"If I run away, she wins," said August. "I can't let her win."

"She always wins," said Will.

August put her hands on her hips. "I guess you'd know, since you grew up in court."

Will winced. "You told her that?"

Jack shrugged. "You didn't tell me it was a secret."

"Why didn't you tell me?" said August.

"I didn't want you to think badly of me," said Will. "Having a mother like that doesn't mean that I'm a bad person."

"Wait... who's your mother?" said August.

"I didn't tell her that part," said Jack.

Will groaned. "Zhanna," he said. "Zhanna is my mother."

"Well, then surely if you tell her that we are together—"

"She'll have you tortured in front of me," said Will. "She's a sadistic woman, and that would make her very happy, especially since it would destroy me."

August only shook her head. She looked back and forth between Jack and Will.

"You have to go," said Jack. "There's nothing else you can do."

"I want to fight her," said August.

"No," said Jack.

Will held out his hand for her. "Come through the window. Today is not the day to fight."

August drew in a deep breath. Her nostrils flared as she let it out. And then she went to the window and climbed out to be with Will.

Jack leaned out the window. "Careful, you two."

"And you as well," said Will. "Thank you, my friend."

"Just get as far away from this place as you can," Jack told him. "And be safe."

Will began to lower the pulley and the two began to disappear into the night.

Jack watched them for a while, and then he closed the window. If Zhanna ever found out he'd deceived her, he wasn't sure what she'd do.

* * *

Zhanna was lounging on a couch in her living room with a glass of wine in her hand. A table in front of her was laden with fruits, cheeses, and crackers. Caspar was sitting next to her on an easy chair, a plate balanced on his belly. He was eating cheese.

Jack was in wolf form, a collar around his neck. He was chained to the wall. He'd been leashed and collared for nearly a week now. Having him in wolf form amused Zhanna. He supposed it could have been worse. She could have muzzled him. She'd done it before, and he positively despised it. Not that he was exactly crazy about being kept on a leash.

Zhanna set down her wine glass. "I don't know if I told you that they found the unicorn girl?"

Caspar was still chewing. He hurriedly finished the cheese and swallowed it. "The one who was riding the unicorn?"

"Yes, we're fairly sure it's the same girl," said Zhanna. "She's led a herd of unicorns out west to the fields of purple grass. They didn't take any of the roads that we were covering, and we couldn't divert them away. There have been reports of all of them being there for weeks, gorging on the stuff."

A girl? With unicorns? Jack hadn't heard about this. Why was Zhanna concerned about it? Certainly, it was odd to hear of anyone riding on a unicorn, but that didn't mean anything.

Of course, he couldn't help but think of his dreams. He hadn't had one in a long time, but they always featured a girl and a unicorn. But it was a black unicorn, and there weren't any black unicorns.

"Well, unicorns are always eating the purple grass," said Caspar. "It's their natural food."

"Yes, but we like it better when they don't have an endless supply of it."

"Well, even the supply out west couldn't be endless," said Caspar. "Nothing's endless."

In Jack's dreams, sometimes the girl rode the black unicorn. She usually wasn't wearing any clothes.... Thinking about her smooth, bare skin made thing stir within Jack, and he quickly tamped it all down. He would not be aroused in Zhanna's presence. Never.

Zhanna picked her wine back up. "Do you enjoy arguing with me?"

"I'm not arguing."

"You're disagreeing with me."

"No, I'm just offering my own point of view." Caspar got some grapes and began popping them in his mouth.

Jack figured those dreams of his were a jumble of things he wanted but couldn't have. He wanted a girl like that, someone who wasn't a witch, who wouldn't hurt him. He wanted to feel desire for a woman that wasn't twisted and forced. And he wanted a black unicorn to come back and annihilate the witches. But those were just idle longings, things he'd never have. It was best to put them from his mind. Besides, this wasn't the girl from his dreams.

Zhanna grimaced at Caspar. "Sometimes you disgust me. You're not even really a man, are you?"

Caspar's eyes widened, but he was too busy eating grapes to do anything about it.

"Even Jack is more of a man than you, and he's nothing but a dog." Zhanna reached over and tugged at Jack's leash, forcing Jack to his feet.

The hackles on the back of Jack's neck raised, and he fantasized again about leaping onto the woman and ripping out her throat.

Caspar swallowed the last grape. "I don't know why you feel you have to be so cruel to me, Zhanna. I have never done anything but serve you in the best way that I can, and you know that."

"Do I?" said Zhanna. "Well, if you were a real man, who lived to serve me, you would have already suggested that you take some men out there and kill that damned unicorn girl for me."

"Kill her?"

"Yes," said Zhanna. "She's obviously manipulating the unicorns. She's taken them out there and shown them where all the grass is. They'll be grateful to her. Now, all she has to do is tell them that she wants a favor, that she wants them to ally with the humans and rise up against us and we'll have real trouble. We cannot allow a girl like her to control the unicorns."

Hmm. So, that was her theory. If it was true, Jack thought he might rather like this girl. He had long thought that it was quite frustrating that the unicorns did not work harder to keep the witches in line. There were quite a lot of aspects of the truce from the war thousands of years ago that the witches broke daily, and the unicorns did nothing about it. They should have won the war, but they had negotiated for peace right at the moment before their triumph. They were saddened by all the death, and they thought that peace would be better. But it shouldn't be peace at any price, not when the witches were such tyrants.

If a girl could convince the unicorns to rise up against the witches, Jack would be all for it. He had no love for the witches and he would be happy to see their term as rulers come to an end.

"Are you sure she's controlling them?" said Caspar.

"Not positive, but it does seem that way," said Zhanna. "And really, we can't afford to take a chance, now can we?"

Caspar drew himself up. "Very well, then. I'll go. I'll take as many men as I can, and we'll march out west, and we'll take on the unicorns."

Zhanna smiled. "Really? You'd do that?"

"I would," said Caspar. "For you, High Mistress."

"And burn the grass," she said. "Set it all on fire. Make those purple blades nothing more than black spots on the ground."

"Of course," said Caspar. "Of course. Whatever you think, High Mistress."

Zhanna rubbed her hands together. "Oh, Caspar, how marvelous. I'm so desperately excited to see what you accomplish."

* * *

Bree tried to hold in her laughter, but she couldn't help letting it burst out of her.

Glade stepped back, holding down his head, neighing in frustration.

The two were surrounded by purple grass. The rest of the herd was in the distance. They'd been here for weeks now, and there was enough to feed all the unicorns. They had never been more pleased, and Bree was happy too.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to touch Glade above his nose. "I didn't mean to laugh."

Glade gave her a reproachful look.

"I know that you're doing your best," said Bree. "Try again."

Glade didn't.

Bree smiled at him. "Oh, now, how are you going to ever get any better at this if you don't try?"

Still nothing from the unicorn.

"Failure is how you learn," said Bree. "That's what my sister Violet always used to say, anyway. And she used to laugh at me when I got things wrong too. Come on. Try again."

Glade heaved a horsey kind of sigh, opened his mouth, and let out a, "Nnnnnn," noise.

"No, no," said Bree. "You've got to move your tongue. Sort of curve it under your teeth. 'Llllll.'"

Glade snorted.

"One more try, please," said Bree.

Glade shook his head.

Bree opened her mouth to show him how she was positioning her tongue. "You can do it, I know you can." She had been giving several of the unicorns speech lessons. She figured it would be easier if she could communicate with someone besides Jonquil. And it wasn't as if she was ever going to be learning their mind-to-mind communication. This way, Jonquil would sometimes have a break. She could tell that the unicorn got tired after having to speak with her at length.

Some of the unicorns were making quite amazing progress. There was a unicorn called Birch who could carry on a passable conversation now. But others, like Glade, were still working at it.

Bree patted Glade, scratched him behind his ears. "All right, then, we'll stop for the day. You deserve a little break. Go on and have some grass. Graze away."

Glade nickered, rubbing his nose against her cheek. "Bye bye," he said, which was one of the words he'd mastered.

"Bye," said Bree, waving to him.

He scampered off to the others.

Bree lay back on the ground, staring up at the sky. She was thinking about trying to scavenge again. But not to run away. She wasn't thinking of doing that anymore. No, she was with the unicorns for better or worse. They were odd creatures, but she had developed quite an affection for them, and they seemed to care about her back. She wanted to scavenge instead to try to find some things for the unicorns. Some of them liked to sprawl out on her bedroll and take a morning nap, and she thought she might be able to find more rolls for them as well, in addition to some harnesses that they could use to carry them on their backs.

The unicorns also seemed to have a sweet tooth, and she thought she might still be able to find some candy that had survived from the Collision. If not, there might be some fresh made that made its way to the outposts from the cities. They'd like treats like that, she was sure of it.

She sat up, looking for Jonquil. The last time she'd asked, he'd told her that he would bring it up with the leader of the unicorns, Haven, and that if she said it would be all right, then Bree could go. Jonquil would accompany her, at least to the villages where she was going to scavenge, even if he didn't come into all of the buildings, since some of them were old and broken down and couldn't easily be navigated by someone on hooves.

But she didn't see Jonquil.

Instead, cresting over the hill, she saw a group of men all dressed in black. They wore shiny boots, and they carried guns. Big, black guns that they'd stolen from the human armies when the witches had conquered during the Collision.

Because that's what they were. An army of witch men. They didn't have magic of their own, but they'd probably been given spells from the witches who'd sent them.

Bree leaped to her feet, crying out and pointing.

The unicorns all looked up from where they had been eating and lounging at the men and their guns.

And then the men stopped moving, shouldering and aiming their guns. And the shots exploded into the air.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A bullet caught a unicorn in the throat. Red blood exploded against white fur. The unicorn reared up on its hind legs, screaming.

Bree hit the ground as the bullets sailed through the air. Her heart was pounding and there was a lump in her throat. Why was this happening? She knew that the witches were horrible, but to attack a group of unicorns unprovoked was out of the ordinary, even for the witches.

One of the men, a man with a thick middle, pointed his gun at Bree. "We want the girl," he yelled out. "Give us the girl, and we'll leave without further incident."

Bree was horrified. This was about her? But why? She was no one. No witches had ever known a thing about her, ever. How could she have brought this upon the unicorns?

Other men began hurling balls that looked as though they were made of glowing red glass. When the balls hit the ground, the purple grass burst into flame.

No! Bree clenched her hands into fists.

The unicorn who'd been shot let out another sound. A growling sort of sound, so loud that the earth rumbled. He pointed his horn at the men, and a beam of bright purple light flew out of it.

Wherever the light hit the men, they were simply vaporized. They went up in a puff of glittering smoke, and nothing was left of them at all.

The unicorn's neck was already healed.

Bree's jaw dropped. She moved into a sitting position. She'd never seen unicorn magic used against someone. She knew it was powerful, but she'd had no idea it could be so beautiful and terrible.

The unicorns lined up, heads down, horns out. They poured beams of purple light at the men.

Some of the men hit the ground and the power sailed over their heads. But some weren't so lucky, and they disappeared in puffs of glitter and smoke, and it was as if they had never been.

The remaining men threw more glowing red balls and started more fires. They shot their guns at the unicorns.

Some of the unicorns were hit, and they fell to the ground. But they didn't stay down for long. Soon, they were on their feet, pointing their horns at the advancing army, vaporizing row after row of men.

Because the men kept coming. They crawled forward on their stomachs, but they kept coming, and they kept shooting.

The fire was spreading over the grass. It caught patch after patch like a row of falling dominoes. The fire was coming for Bree.

She got to her feet. She needed to run—

A bullet whizzed past her ear.

"The girl!" yelled one of the men.

Bree hit the ground, flattened herself, chin to the dirt. She peered over the flames to see what was going on.

More and more men were disappearing, some uttering screams as the purple bolts of magic hit them.

But there was one last row of men coming over the hill, and they were walking, not crawling. They were all carrying glowing balls like the fireballs. But these weren't red. They were a mottled white. The men threw the balls down at the ground right at their feet.

The balls exploded in a shower of sparks and smoke. When the smoke cleared, the men were encased in large, filmy bubble-like things.

The unicorn's magic hit the bubbles, but it didn't penetrate them. Instead, the whole bubble lit up purple for a second, as if it was absorbing the power. But the men inside were unharmed.

They all raised their guns and poked the barrels through the bubbles, which didn't pop them. They opened fire.

They were all shooting at Bree.

She didn't know what to do. She put her hands over her head even though she knew that was pointless and wouldn't do a thing to save her.

And then Jonquil was there, between her and the men.

Bullets ripped into his hide. He flinched as each one hit. "Onto my back, Virgin Bree," he said through clenched teeth.

"But you're hurt," she said.

"Now!"

She scrambled onto his back.

A jolt went through her. A funny tingling.

Another bullet hit Jonquil. It bounced off his skin.

He let out a surprised whinny.

The other wounds on his body were healing at an alarming rate, and bullets were being spit out of his body onto the ground as his wounds knit themselves back together.

"Jonquil..." whispered Bree.

He turned toward the men, lowered his head, and emitted magic from his horn. But this beam wasn't purple, and it wasn't light. It was black, like a ribbon of midnight. It soared through the air and it sliced through the bubbles protecting the men. It sliced the men too. Sliced them completely in half.

Bree let out a gasp.

All around them, the grass burned.

* * *

~No one's seen anything like that in years,~ Haven said. She was lying atop the hill and gazing down at the fields of purple grass, which were all aflame. ~The power that came from your horn, it was like the power that Draco had.~

~But I'm not a black unicorn,~ said Jonquil. ~As you can see, my coat is white just as everyone else's is. No, I don't think it was me. I think it was Virgin Bree. When she touched me, something changed. Others have had a feeling that this one is different. She has become cherished to many of us very quickly. Perhaps this is why.~

~I've never heard of a virgin possessing the power of the black unicorn.~

~No, I know that. And I'm not saying that's what it is.~ Jonquil lay down on the ground next to Haven. He peered down at the smoking grass. ~She is a virgin, but she is not innocent. She has seen terrible things in her young life.~

~What are you saying?~

~We know that the witches twist the power of magic by forcing their consorts to be with them. Bree has witnessed that sort of twisted coupling in many ways. Her sister was violated and later had to sell her body to take care of them. There was violence.~

~Yes, but Bree is not a witch,~ said Haven.

~No, but we are using her magic,~ said Jonquil. ~Maybe when she is frightened, her magic can turn black.~

~Black unicorn magic is not evil or twisted,~ said Haven. ~You were young, and you did not know Draco. He did the best he could, and it was war.~

~I'm not saying it's evil,~ said Jonquil, ~but we both know it's formulated for one purpose only. To kill and destroy. We are not destructive creatures, but when we need to be, the black unicorn comes forth. Is that not the legend?~

Haven stood up, sighing. ~That is the legend. But no one knows what brings forth a black unicorn. And no one has seen one in a thousand years.~

~I know,~ said Jonquil. ~I know. Still, it was lucky to have it. We were able to stop those men before they caused more damage.~

~I wish we could have stopped them from lighting the fires,~ said Haven.

Jonquil stood as well. ~Not all of the grass is ruined.~

~No, not all. But I don't think it's safe for us to stay here. The witches know where we are. They'll send more men. They are telling us to leave. This was a message.~

~You're forgetting,~ said Jonquil. ~They were coming after Virgin Bree.~

~What?~ said Haven. ~I think you're the one who is forgetting, old friend. I can't understand the speech of men. Only you can do that. And some of the others, now, who she has been teaching. They asked for her?~

~They said they would stop if we handed her over.~

Haven lifted her head and was quiet for several moments, thinking. ~What could it mean?~

~They must know something about her that we don't.~

~She must be protected at all costs, then. If the witches want her, that's a sure sign they shouldn't have her. We must leave as soon as possible. We can't stay here, out in the open where the witches could strike again at any moment.~

~But to leave the grass. We've only just gotten here.~

Haven lowered her muzzle to the ground sadly. ~I know. It grieves me as well. Perhaps someday we can return. After all of this has died down.~

But Jonquil wasn't sure that things were going to die down. He had a bad feeling that things were going to get worse and worse. It had been a thousand years since the witches or unicorns had attacked the others unprovoked. What was so important about this girl that the witches would break that peace?

Well, it wasn't peace, he supposed. And it was true that the unicorns had driven the witches back when they tried to invade unicorn territory after the Collision. Perhaps the witches had taken that as a dissolution of the agreement between them.

He turned back to the burning fields. Lighting their grass on fire? It was the lowest of the low. ~I will tell the others of your decision,~ he said to Haven. And then he bounded down the hill to find them.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Zhanna read over the text on her phone again, unable to believe it. One man from the expedition that Caspar had led out had survived. One. He'd only made it out because he'd run like a coward, even though he was spinning it that he'd left to make sure that she knew what had happened. She supposed it was good to have news, but it was bad news, and that didn't make that man any less a coward.

"High Mistress?" said the voice of her lady-in-waiting, Gramercy Dunn. "Something upsetting in the text?"

The two were in the main banquet hall. Zhanna had been in the midst of ordering menus for the next three banquets when the text had come in. She set her phone down on the long dining table, which stretched up and down the room, gray marble with seating for twenty.

"Yes," said Zhanna. "Caspar's dead."

"Oh," said Gramercy, her face twisting in concern. "How awful, High Mistress. I'm so sorry."

Zhanna made a face as if she'd smelled something bad. "It is awful, isn't it? Here I send him out to do something to prove to me that he's a man, and he gets himself killed. Some kind of man he is. I'm just disgusted. If he weren't already dead, I'd probably kill him myself."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't mean that," said Gramercy, attempting a smile.

Zhanna pulled out one of the chairs at the dining room table and sank into it. The other witch was one of her newer ladies-in-waiting, and she always seemed nervous. Zhanna wished she wouldn't. The stupid half-smiles and the way that Gramercy shifted from one foot to another got on Zhanna's last nerve. However, after news like this, anyone would get on her last nerve, so she didn't think there was much point in dismissing the other witch. She sighed. "You have no idea how difficult this is going to make things for me. I have no consort."

Gramercy sat down next to her. "Oh, I know, High Mistress. It's awful." She reached out a hand to enclose one of Zhanna's.

Zhanna furrowed her brow, looking down at Gramercy's hand clasped around hers.

Gramercy let out a nervous laugh and withdrew her hand. "Sorry, High Mistress. I only meant to comfort you in your grief."

Zhanna snorted. "I'm not grieving."

"You don't have to hide it from me," said Gramercy. "I know that you are a strong woman, and your love for your husband does nothing to weaken your strength."

"Love?" Zhanna let out a noisy breath. "Where would you get such a ridiculous idea? I have never loved Caspar. I couldn't possibly have loved something like that. He was occasionally useful. And perhaps a few hundred years ago, he was still very handsome. But I never loved him."

"Oh." Gramercy seemed thrown by this. "Well... perhaps you're just in denial, High Mistress? You don't have to admit how hurt you are."

"I'm fine with talking about my hurt," said Zhanna. "You have no idea how absolutely agonizing it's going to be, all those eligible bachelors jockeying for a place at my side, all wanting to be my consort. I'll be drowning in ambitious male flesh, and I really have no time for that, considering that I've probably just started a war with the unicorns. I gave Caspar and his men fire balls. I gave them powerful shields. I hoped they'd manage a bit better than they did. I wouldn't have expected them to kill all of the unicorns, or anything, but we all had hopes that the human weapons would be more effective against them than primitive things like swords and arrows." She flung herself down in a chair. "It seems that we were wrong, though. The only way to kill a unicorn remains to be chopping off its head. And who can ever get close enough to accomplish that? Ah, it was just a waste. The text says that they didn't even get the girl. If at least the girl had been killed, that would have been something."

Gramercy tried a smile again, but she looked even more confused. "I'm... I'm quite sorry, High Mistress."

"Does your being sorry do anything for me?"

"Well, no, I suppose not."

"Then don't bother." Zhanna lifted her head. She moaned. "What a mess, what a mess."

"Yes," said Gramercy, folding her hands in her lap.

"You know, it's insulting anyway. What will the other witches think, that I married a man who couldn't even keep himself alive? I'll be a laughingstock."

"Oh, I'm sure no one would think such a thing," said Gramercy.

"Right," said Zhanna. "After all, some of their men went along, and they died too, so that should quell that nasty bit of talk."

"I think..."

"What?"

Gramercy shook her head.

Zhanna glared at her. "Spit it out, girl."

"Only that some of them may feel grief, even if you are not."

"Right," Zhanna sniffed. "There are a good many weaklings here at court. Well, I'm going to forbid it. I don't want to speak of it again. I don't want funerals. I don't want long speeches about how much we'll miss them. None of that. I think we should all just move on. So, spread the word, Gramercy. You may send out a list of the dead via text and email. But let everyone know that we will never speak any of their names aloud ever again. It will be as if they never existed."

Gramercy had turned pale. "You can't be serious. No funerals at all?"

"I don't say things I don't mean."

"But my brother was one of the—"

"You never had a brother," said Zhanna, getting up from the table. She smoothed a hand over her hair. "Now, where were we? We were talking about menus for the banquets, weren't we?"

* * *

"We're leaving the grass?" Bree said when Jonquil came to see her later that afternoon. She had been watching the grass burn all day from a perch on top of the hill. It made her heart hurt. "But there's so much of it that's not been destroyed. And you need it. It keeps you alive. It gives you magic."

"We'll have you for magic," said Jonquil. "It have to be enough. Haven says we aren't safe here. The witches know where we are."

"But you slaughtered their army. They'd be stupid to come back," said Bree. "The witches are no match against you."

"I didn't make the decision, Virgin Bree," said Jonquil.

Bree chewed on her lip. "Do you think I could talk to Haven?"

"She doesn't understand human speech."

"You could translate for me," said Bree.

"I don't think she'd change her mind," said Jonquil. "We leave tomorrow morning."

"But you can't leave the grass behind," she said. She tapped her chin. "You know what would be a better idea? If you had some scavengers working for you. People like me. There a few girls I know—about my age or a little younger. They'd be virgins too, so they could also provide you magic. But they could sneak back here and pick the grass and bundle it up and take it to wherever you are. Heck, I could do it too, but it would be better if you had more than one girl doing it so that you'd always have one virgin with you for magic and one out scavenging for grass. We could scavenge for other things too. Whatever you think you need." This idea was just coming to her, but the more she spoke about it, the more she liked it. It was a good idea.

She wanted to help the unicorns, and this was the way. She could make things better, if only they'd agree.

"You want us to have more than one virgin to take care of?" said Jonquil. "More than one human?"

Bree nodded, eyes shining. "Yes. I think three would be the perfect number. And if there are other herds that you're in contact with, maybe you could give them the idea too. I might be able to find quite a lot of virgins in my network of scavengers. There are a lot of girls out there who don't want to become whores, but they're afraid that they'll have no other option. Unicorn protection might be very appealing to them."

"But we wouldn't be protecting them all the time if they were off scavenging grass," said Jonquil.

"True," said Bree, furrowing her brow.

"They'd have to have escorts," said Jonquil. "For their own protection. And how is a young girl supposed to carry enough grass to feed an entire herd across the country, anyway? She'd need a unicorn."

Bree smiled. "So, you like the idea, then?"

"It has some merits to it," said Jonquil. "Of course, we've never even witnessed this scavenging that you speak of."

"That's because you've never let me do it," said Bree. "I can show you. Tonight. I'll go out, find the nearest village, and be back with goodies by tomorrow morning."

Jonquil scuffed his paw against the ground. "You want me to let you go on your own?"

"Well, you can come if you want," said Bree. "I just don't know how easily it'll be to get you inside the village. Sometimes, I have to climb things or go under fences or through drainpipes."

"So, I can come along, but you'd be able to escape from me at any time if you wanted?"

"I'm not going to escape," said Bree.

"I trust you, Virgin Bree," said Jonquil. "Let's go scavenge."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

But once they were standing on the outskirts of a nearby outpost, Bree had a twinge. Maybe she ought to simply make a run for it. She could see rows of fences behind the abandoned buildings out here—this had once been what Violet called a strip mall, though Bree didn't understand why it was called that. She supposed the row of buildings could easily be called a strip, but the mall part confused her, especially because they'd also raided other things that Violet called malls, which were huge, interconnected buildings that often were difficult to access.

Bree could get free from Jonquil and start climbing over those fences. She'd put enough distance and enough metal between her and the unicorn that he wouldn't be able to get her back. She could be on her own again, with no one to tell her when to sleep and when to march.

But she didn't want to be on her own, not truly. It sounded lonely. And the unicorns...

Well, she didn't know quite how to explain it, but ever since she'd first seen them, she'd felt good around them. They were comfortable to her, even though they should have frightened her. And she didn't know what had happened when she had gotten on Jonquil's back and he was suddenly bullet-proof, but she thought it was only more proof of the fact that she belonged with the unicorns. So, she wasn't going to leave.

"This place has probably been picked clean," Bree said. It was pretty rare to find a place that still had any supplies intact so many years after the Collision. "But we may find some things left behind by other scavengers." It had become standard practice for scavengers to leave something behind when they took things. It was a sort of honors system of trade, but it was also a practicality. Most scavengers only took what they could carry. So finding better material for selling often meant leaving behind the loot from a previous score. Only so much room in a backpack, after all.

Bree didn't have anything to leave this time, but that was okay too. Scavengers liked to help out their fellow cohorts. The things that were left behind were left to help others as well. As the places to scavenge became more and more empty and picked over, scavengers knew that they needed to help each other out, or their entire way of life would disappear.

"Come on," said Bree, gesturing to Jonquil. They were behind the strip mall, looking down on the rows of chain link fences which surrounded old dumpsters. Bree hurried to run down a hill and get in the front of the place. Jonquil came with her.

The strip mall stretched out in front of them. The glass windows were busted out and most of the doors were gone. There had once been a sign that stood at the road proclaiming the names of all of the stores, but it had fallen down a long time ago, and now it lay over what used to be the parking lot. Grass was growing through the cracks in the old pavement.

With no way to know what stores had been which, Bree just headed inside the first place.

She and Jonquil crossed the dark threshold. It was early evening, and Bree couldn't see anything.

"What I wouldn't give for a flashlight," she muttered.

"What's a flashlight?" said Jonquil.

"Like an electric torch you hold in your hand. Makes light."

Jonquil's horn glowed suddenly, illuminating a circle of light around them. "Would that work?" he asked.

Bree grinned. "Perfect."

The light showed empty shelves, a sign dangling in the middle of one aisle that read, Hair Care. This had probably been a pharmacy, Bree thought. Those were good stores if you could find them intact. Had all sorts of medicines plus some food and even things like toys and stationery. Nonessentials like the latter were sometimes still in the stores, ready to be plundered. A good scavenger would pick them up, never knowing if she could trade a toy truck to someone with a child for food or weapons or a place to stay for the night.

But the unicorns would have no use for them.

No, she needed to go to the place where scavengers might leave things, and that would be at the back of the store. Always at the back, in the furthermost corner. Usually on the left hand side, but sometimes the right. Bree wasn't sure how this had been the agreed-upon spot, but it just was.

She motioned to Jonquil and the two moved further into the store.

A crashing noise from one aisle over.

Bree froze. Usually, when she was with Violet, she had a weapon, but all of that had been stripped from her when she'd been captured by the men from Harmony. "Hello?" she called. Humans could be reasoned with. Of course, what if it was one of the men from the army that had attacked them, some lone survivor out here with a gun?

Bree dropped into a crouch, her hands balanced on the floor. She began to creep down the aisle. It was best to keep a low profile in situations like this, and no one expected to be attacked from below or above. Not being the tallest person in the world, Bree tended to choose attack from below.

But then a wolfwraith burst out at the end of the aisle. The shaggy half-human, half-wolf had glowing yellow eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Its tongue hung over them, drooling. The maddened thing growled and began to bound toward them.

Bree panicked. She had no weapon. There was nothing to do but retreat, maybe put a barrier between herself and the—

Purple light emanating from Jonquil's horn.

It hit the wolfwraith, and the thing went up in smoke. In seconds, there was nothing left but sparkling ash.

Bree let out a huff of air. "Oh," she murmured.

Jonquil's voice was quiet. "Are there more of them close by, do you think? Those things travel in packs, don't they?"

"Sometimes," said Bree. "They search for each other at the full moon. Once they change, sometimes a bunch of them will find each other and go tearing through the wilderness together. They're more dangerous that way. But if there were more of them, they would have all jumped out at us. They stick close to each other once they've joined up."

"So, we are safe to continue?"

"Yes."

They moved through the store in silence, Bree glancing at the bare shelves as they moved. Every now and again, she would see something on the shelf. A box of cotton balls. A can of dog food. A box containing something called a crock pot.

"What would you have done about the wraith if I hadn't been here?" Jonquil said suddenly.

"I usually carry a knife with me," said Bree.

"Well, we'll have to get you another one," said Jonquil. "It's dangerous out here without any protection."

"Thanks," said Bree. "That would be good."

They had reached the back of the store. There was a row of shelves underneath the window that used to be where pharmacists mixed medicines. These shelves were not empty. They were full of things other scavengers had left behind.

"Jackpot," breathed Bree. She began to gather up candy bars. "Look at these. These are recently manufactured. Stolen from a witch-run factory or even from inside the witch cities. Violet and I sometimes made runs into the city. Dangerous, but so worth it." She looked around. "We need something to put them in, though... There." Bree snatched up a canvas bag that had obviously seen better days. It had a small hole in one corner. Some scavenger had probably left it behind when she found another one. But it would do to hold in the candy bars. The hole wasn't that big. "You ever had a candy bar, Jonquil?" she asked as she scooped the chocolate inside.

"What?" said Jonquil.

"You're going to love it," said Bree. "And look. More matches. This is great. And..." She paused. "Oh, it's an mp3 player. Plays music. I used to have one, and every time Violet and I would get someplace where there was electricity, I'd charge it up. Traded lots of things for new songs too. I love music." She smiled, wistful.

"You should take it, Virgin Bree."

"Nah," said Bree. "Not practical. It's hard to find electricity anyway, unless you go close to the witches, and that's not safe. I lost my last one, and it was too much of a hassle to replace. I don't need this one." She picked up a few blankets instead. "These, however, we can use."

* * *

Bree smiled at Birch who was settled on one of the blankets she'd scavenged. Bree was in a clearing in the woods, surrounded by unicorns from the herd. Overhead, moonlight streamed down on them. On all sides, ringing the clearing, were the thick trunks of old trees.

"Nice," said Birch. "Soft."

"I knew you guys would like it," said Bree. "I can probably find more. The only catch is that you have to carry them on your backs when we go on the move, but that's all right, isn't it? And if you decide you don't want it, you can give it to another unicorn or I can leave it for another scavenger somewhere."

Birch shook her head. "Slower. No understand."

"Sorry," said Bree, laughing. "Maybe Jonquil can translate."

But Jonquil had collapsed on another of the blankets and had his eyes closed.

Bree shrugged. "Well... anyway, I'm glad you like the blankets."

"Like blankets," Birch agreed.

Bree settled down on the ground and Glade came up to her and then laid his head down in her lap. Bree was used to this by now. Away from the purple grass, the unicorns laid their heads in her lap every other day, and they were on a staggered pattern, so there were some doing it every day. She stoked Glade's mane, feeling at peace and happy.

"I could get more blankets," said Bree, "but it would be easier if I had more scavengers. I told Jonquil about my idea, and he seemed to like it. I would get other girls besides myself to be here with you. Other virgins who also know how to scavenge. We could even send girls back for the purple grass."

"More girls?" said Birch.

"Uh huh," said Bree. "Wouldn't that be better for you?"

Haven appeared at the edge of the clearing.

Glade jumped up out of Bree's lap.

Bree had only seen the leader of the unicorns from afar. She had never come to put her head in Bree's lap. Bree wasn't sure why that was. Maybe Haven was so powerful she didn't need contact with a virgin to keep up her magic and her life. Maybe Haven didn't like humans. Maybe unicorn leaders were simply above laying their heads in anyone's laps.

Haven slowly made her way toward Bree.

Both Birch and Jonquil got up off their blankets.

Haven put her nose down against one of the blankets. She seemed to like it because she rubbed her face against it for several moments. Then she straightened. She pointed her horn at Bree.

Jonquil cleared his throat. "Haven wants to know more about this idea of bringing in other virgins."

"Oh," said Bree. Her mouth felt dry. Something about Haven was so majestic and intimidating. "Well, we're leaving the purple grass tomorrow, and when Jonquil told me that, I thought that maybe there could be a way that we could have the grass but not be here. It could be cut and dried and then bundled up and carried to us, wherever we are. And I thought that there might be other supplies that you might like too." Bree took out one of the candy bars she'd gotten from the store and unwrapped it. "Here. Try this." She held it out on her palm, hand flat.

Haven came closer, sniffing the candy bar.

"It's food," said Bree. "Eat it. It's sweet."

Haven hesitated a moment longer and then delicately plucked up the candy bar with her teeth. She chewed.

Bree waited.

Haven's eyes widened.

"She says it's good," said Jonquil.

"I can get more," said Bree. "But to get more, we'd need more scavengers."

Haven swallowed.

"She wants to know why any other humans would help the unicorns," said Jonquil.

"Well, for the same reason scavengers do anything. It's a trade. You keep us safe and fed and we get things for you. A scavenger's life is typically going out and getting things to trade for food and shelter. Working with you would essentially be the same thing."

Haven went over to one of the blankets and laid down on it.

"Say she agrees," said Jonquil. "How would these other scavenger virgins get here?"

"I'd go and find them," said Bree. "I already have two in mind. They'd be perfect. One's about my age, one's a little younger, but they're both good at their jobs."

Haven stood back up.

Jonquil was quiet but he was looking at the female unicorn as if he was telling her something important.

The silence went on for quite some time as the two communicated inside their heads.

Finally Jonquil turned back to Bree. "Haven has expressed concerns that this is simply a ploy to get away from us. I told her that you wouldn't do that, and that I trust you. She is still wary, but she has agreed to allow you to try."

"Well, being held captive here is part of the problem," said Bree. "Right now, you have an agreement with Harmony Village, which no one there likes, because they don't know what you do with the virgins. Even though it's not as bad as they imagine, you are essentially keeping me, and the other virgins like me, prisoner. But if this is a transaction, if virgins want to be here with you because of what you offer them, then you don't have to worry about one of us deciding to leave, because another will be eager to take our place."

More silence as the unicorns communicated.

"You've given her something to think about," said Jonquil.

"I won't get slaves for you," said Bree. "Then you're no better than the witches. But if you view us as equals who are helping each other out, then I will go to find the other girls."

Haven lifted her chin, gazing in Bree's eyes for quite some time.

Then, Jonquil spoke. "She says to go, then," he said. "She says we are equals."

* * *

Jack's mother Siena was waiting at the bars to her cell when Jack arrived. He was allowed to see his mother once a week for an hour, sometimes two if the guards got distracted and forgot about his being there.

The dungeon for Siena was relatively clean, though it was dark with stone walls and floors and metal bars. She had no privacy, but she was fed and allowed to bathe.

It could have been worse. That was what Jack always told himself. And in most cases, it was because he had firsthand knowledge of the worse situation. Terrible things could be done to his mother, but today, she greeted him wearing a simple black dress with her hair pulled into a bun at the back of her neck, and she seemed to be glowing at the sight of him.

The guards let him into the cell with her, and they embraced.

"Jack, oh, Jack," his mother whispered as she clung to him.

He shut his eyes and squeezed her. When he was small, she would pick him up and hug him. She was so tall then. But for a long, long time, he had been taller than her. With every passing decade, she didn't age, because that wasn't the way of their people, but she did seem more frail. He wanted to protect her. He couldn't protect her.

Finally, she released him, and he let go of her.

She went over to her bed, just a thin mattress and blanket on a metal platform, and sat down. She patted the space next to her. "Come sit with me."

He joined her.

She reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers. "I'm always so glad when you're here. I know that you're safe, that she's kept you alive another week."

"I'm fine, Mama," he said, smiling gently at her. "I've told you that things are much easier for me at court now. Zhanna finds my services useful. She won't hurt me." What those services were, of course, he'd been vague about. There were certain things a man never felt comfortable talking about in front of his mother.

"She would crush you in an instant," said Siena. "Don't be foolish, and don't try to sugarcoat things for me."

"I don't want you to worry," said Jack.

"You know that I can't help it," she said.

"I thought you were reading more," said Jack. "I thought you were allowed to have a different book every day. That's what you said last week, that they were coming by with a cart full of books and that you got to choose a different one every day."

"Oh, yes, that's true." Siena nodded.

"So, read and don't worry. Distract yourself."

"The books that they are bringing us are from the human world. They are quite strange. In the human world, it seems, that men and women had a different balance of power than among witches."

Jack nodded. "Yes, well, it varies among different cultures, I think, but that is true."

"I find it strange is all," said Siena, shrugging.

"So strange you won't read?"

"I didn't say that," said Siena, laughing. "But enough about me. There is nothing interesting going on in this cell. Let's talk about you. What's happened to you? It's been two weeks since I saw you last."

Yes, thanks to Zhanna keeping him chained up for over a week, he'd missed the last visit with his mother. "I'm sorry about that."

"One of the guards assured me you weren't dead, just... detained by Zhanna."

Jack's nostrils flared. Had the guard told his mother exactly where he was? Probably. Bastards liked getting a rise out of the prisoners.

Siena patted his leg. "It's all right, son. I know what she's like. Let's not speak of that. Tell me something pleasant."

Jack sucked in a breath. Easier said than done, he supposed. Most often, he spun stories for his mother that were only vaguely grounded in truth. It was easier for them both that way. So, he forced himself to smile. "Will was visiting court for a while."

"Oh, he was? Did Zhanna know?"

"No, of course not," said Jack. "It was like old times, though, scheming with him." Then he winced. Why had he said that? Why bring up scheming? Typically, they were safe in the cells from anyone overhearing what they said, because the guards usually didn't pay them much mind. But he still tried to be careful. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to bring up Will's presence at all.

"What did you scheme over?" His mother was smiling at him.

"Yes," said another voice. "I admit I'm quite curious to hear that story as well."

Jack looked up.

Zhanna was striding down the cell block, wearing a black cape with a high collar that was stiff behind her head. Her lips were painted bright red. She was flanked by two burly guards, one of whom held a coiled whip. She and her guards stopped in front of the bars to Siena's cell. "It wouldn't be a scheme, perhaps, that involved a certain witch named August Hunter, would it?"

Jack stood up from the bed. What did she know?

Zhanna narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't come and brag to your mother about that, would you?"

Jack was quiet. If she knew, there would be a punishment, one way or the other, and there was no point in speaking. If she didn't know, running his mouth could only give something away.

"Imagine my surprise," said Zhanna, "when I found out from one of the witches who sat next to August at a dinner several weeks ago, that August's beau she kept crowing about was none other than my own son. And then, when I considered your story that she'd somehow slipped by you while you slept in the morning, I began to realize that I'd been duped. You never did anything to August, did you? In fact, you helped her escape."

Jack adopted a bored expression. "If you think I helped Will get more deeply ensnared by a witch, you don't know anything about me. I most certainly broke that witch's mind. It was a favor to him." He was only speaking now because he knew what Zhanna knew. She knew he'd disobeyed her, and there was going to be hell to pay. Maybe his lie could convince her. He was fairly certain she'd picked this time and place to confront him about it so that she could hurt him in front of his mother. Zhanna knew that would be doubly painful for both of them. He gritted his teeth at the thought of it.

Zhanna laughed. "You expect me to believe that?"

Jack studied his fingernails. "Will came to me for help protecting her, but I told him that he was free of bitches like his mother and he should stay that way."

Zhanna's eyes widened. "What did you call me?"

Jack shrugged. "You heard me."

"Jack." Siena shook her head, her voice a soft warning.

"My apologies, High Mistress," he muttered. "But being falsely accused seems to have made me a bit testy."

"You weren't falsely accused," said Zhanna. "I spent some time looking into things, and I discovered that a white wolf and a girl climbed off a window-washing ledge at the bottom of our building and ran off into the woods. One of my guards saw them. He didn't think anything of it. Thought it was some game between lovers. But it proves you did help Will."

"Oh, I'm glad," said Siena. "I would hate to think you really hated all women. That's not the boy I raised you to be."

She hadn't raised him at all, since he'd been stolen from her, but Jack didn't really think this was the time to point that out. He took a deep breath and then decided it didn't matter anymore. He wouldn't bother hiding it. "Fine." He leaned his back against the bars. "You caught me. I suppose you'll want to whip me in front of my mother now." He started to unbutton his shirt. "I'd rather not get this bloody. It was hand made."

Zhanna laughed, gesturing for one of the guards to open the door to the cell. "I've been beating you too often, Jack, and it doesn't seem to be making any difference. No, I think this time, maybe you'll understand the importance of following my orders if your mother is the one who takes the punishment."

Jack's whole body tensed. Why hadn't he thought of that? He was incredibly stupid.

The guards opened the cell door.

Siena got up from the bed.

Jack didn't think. He moved. He leaped into the air, shifting into wolf form in midair, his clothes shredding and falling away from his furry sinews and muscles. He landed on the guard, knocking them both to the floor of the cell. He snarled, baring his teeth, going for the man's throat.

But Zhanna came into the cell and fixed him with a stare. Her eyes turned red.

And he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. Her magic had taken hold of him and he was helpless. He felt her reversing his shift, leaving him in human form, weak and naked. She gestured carelessly with one hand and her magic forced him to slide across the floor into a corner. He couldn't move. He couldn't even blink. He was forced to stare at his mother.

Zhanna cocked her head at Siena. "You may not have raised that boy to hate women, but you also didn't raise him to have any respect for authority, did you?"

Siena smiled thinly. "Perhaps you simply aren't worthy of respect, Zhanna. You have never earned anything in your life, only taken what you wanted by force."

"Shut up," said Zhanna.

"You're still a sad, jealous shrew who wishes you could have attracted Rainer instead of me. But no one is attracted to you, Zhanna. They are only frightened."

Zhanna slapped Sienna across the face. "Shut up."

Siena turned around, her face red where Zhanna's hand hit her. "Am I getting under your skin? Is that it?"

"Whip her," Zhanna roared at the guard. "Whip her until she passes out!"

"No!" said Jack.

But the whip cracked through the air and landed on the skin of Siena's back with a thwap.

Jack winced.

Siena clenched her teeth.

"Again," growled Zhanna.

And the whip came down again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Unicorns?" said Jeremiah Perkins, who was standing outside the tavern in the Georgeville outpost, leaning on a shovel he'd thrust into the ground. "You can't be serious about that, Bree."

Bree pointed up on the hill outside the fence that ran around the outpost, where Jonquil was standing, silhouetted against the setting sun. "That's one of them."

"And how do I know this ain't some crazy, convoluted trap they got you doing? Maybe they've got Violet back there all tied up, and they told you to bring them more virgins or they'd run a horn through Violet's heart."

Bree looked away. "Violet's gone."

"Gone?'

Bree swallowed, then raised her gaze to meet his. "Wolfwraiths. I thought you knew. I spent the last month running everywhere trying to find a cure."

"Ain't no cure for wraiths."

Bree nodded.

They were quiet.

"Well," said Jeremiah. "I am sorry." He yanked the shovel out of the ground, moved it a few inches, then drove it back in. He leaned on it again. "But that don't prove that the unicorns are safe."

"I'm telling you they're safe," said Bree. "One scavenger to another. And I know you're worried about Dinah these days. I heard you talking to Violet about it one night a few months back. Said that you can't be around to watch her all the time."

Jeremiah studied the handle of his shovel. "Dinah's like a daughter to me. You know that. I can't let her go off with some unicorns that are about as likely to eat her as they are to take care of her."

"They don't eat people," said Bree. She was fairly sure this was true. They did eat meat, though, and she supposed that prey was prey if you were a unicorn, but... well, she didn't think they ate people. "They haven't eaten me, have they?"

"No, but that might be because you're a lure for younger, tenderer meat."

Bree drew back, insulted. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not old. I'm not even twenty."

Jeremiah scratched his jaw. "Well, you're scrawny is all. You could stand some meat on your bones. But then, so could Dinah. It's been slim pickings these past few months."

"The unicorns feed me well," she said. "They protect me. And all they want in return is to lay their heads in my lap. They have a special bond with virgins. It sustains them. Dinah would be cared for, and in return, she could scavenge for them, just like I do. It's a good deal for her. And besides, you had to turn down that trip to the north country with the other group of scavengers."

"You heard about that?" said Jeremiah. "Did seem like a good deal for me. The loot up there is practically untouched because it's all been blocked off by a waterfall that came in during the Collision from the other world. They offered me a spot, but I had to turn them down because I didn't think I could trust some of the men around Dinah. She's getting too pretty, and some of them were rough types."

"Now, you can go," said Bree. "A trip like that, you'd bring back enough to live without scavenging for quite some time. Maybe a year. You could use that time to settle in somewhere with Dinah."

"Not if she's off with the unicorns."

"She can come and go as she pleases with the unicorns," said Bree. "Trust me, by the time I'm done, there will be scavenger girls clambering to take her place."

"So, you're saying she could go be with the unicorns for six months while I go north, and then she could leave when I come back?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," said Bree. "If she wants to, of course. It would have to be her decision."

Just then, the door to the place opened and a girl with red hair and freckles bounded through it. "You trade that shovel yet, Jeremiah?"

"Hi, Dinah," said Bree, waving. Dinah was nearly fifteen, but she'd started to look curvy and old for her age three years ago. She and Jeremiah had been together since Jeremiah found Dinah wandering around in her diaper, a two-year-old on her own. He'd raised the girl as his own, and she was still a girl, no matter how mature she looked. Bree thought the unicorns were a perfect fit for Dinah, a place for the girl to grow up in safety, not among the rough men at the outposts.

Dinah smiled. "Hey, Bree. Don't look now, but there's a unicorn up there." Dinah pointed.

"What do you think of unicorns?" said Bree.

Dinah smiled. "They can't be as bad as they say, can they? I'd love to see one up close."

"How'd you like to live with them?" said Bree.

Dinah gave her a confused smile. "What?"

Jeremiah picked up his shovel and slung it over one shoulder. "Bree here's got something to run by you."

* * *

Jack's eyes were red from the tears that had been running down his face. He hadn't been able to stop himself from sobbing the longer that they hurt his mother.

When Zhanna had said to whip Siena until she passed out, she'd meant it, and it had been carried out. The whipping had gone on and on, and Jack's throat was raw from the screaming he'd done. His mother had stopped making noise long before he had.

She'd stopped crying out, but the beating had gone on She'd stayed conscious for an agonizing long time, silent and dead-eyed, only sucking in breaths with every stroke. It was as if she'd given up, gone deep into herself while the whip had bitten cruelly into the skin of her back and shoulders. Finally, her eyes had closed.

His mother's back was a bloody mess of furrows and deep grooves. She lay on the floor of the cell on her stomach, her hair tangled over her face. She was unconscious, and Jack was actually grateful that she'd finally passed out, because it meant an end to the agony.

Now, he sat next to her, holding her hand in one of his, gazing down at her wounds. He needed to clean them, to dress them, but he didn't know if the guards would allow it. He was only to be in the cell for one hour, once a week, and his time was up. If he left her, they might not let him come back. And he didn't have any bandages.

Hell, he didn't even have his clothes. He'd managed to wrap the shreds of his pants around his body, covering the most important parts. Other than that, his skin was cold and bare. He wanted to shift, but Zhanna had drained him too badly. He would need time to recover.

"I'm sorry, Mama," he whispered to her motionless body. "I'm sorry I let this happen to you." And then he couldn't stop himself from beginning to sob again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Abigail Ferguson was sharpening her knife on a whetstone. She was a tall young woman with white-blond hair. She wore leather pants and a leather jacket. "What makes you think I'm a virgin?"

Bree sat opposite Abigail, a campfire between them. All around the fire, Abigail had wound fishing line to the trees with dangling bits of metal on it. If anyone walked into the fishing line, she'd be alerted to their presence from the jangling sound the metal would make hitting against each other.

"I think you told me you were," said Bree. "Last time I saw you."

"That was months ago. Things change."

Bree arched an eyebrow. "They do?"

Abigail pointed the knife at Bree. "They could have. I could have gone out and found myself some pretty looking boy somewhere."

"I was fairly certain your tastes ran towards women," said Bree.

Abigail drew back. "Now, I know I didn't tell you that."

Bree shrugged. "Not hard to figure out, though. Besides, I saw the way you followed Jennifer with your eyes, everywhere she went."

"Jennifer was a married woman," said Abigail.

"Not saying she was interested back," said Bree.

Abigail started to sharpen her knife again. "And anyway, she's gone."

"I know," said Bree. "Violet's gone too. And I know you and Brian had some kind of falling out."

"Bastard," said Abigail, making a face. "Jen wasn't dead for eight months and he was sniffing around me. Said that we both loved her and we could comfort each other. I almost slit his throat for that."

Eight months wasn't a very long time, Bree thought, but it wasn't two weeks either. Brian was probably just lonely. And Bree knew that the three of them—Jen, Abigail, and Brian—had scavenged together for over five years, since they were teenagers. Still, she recognized it was better probably not to argue with Abigail.

Bree gestured to the fishing line. "You set an alarm like this up every night before you go to sleep?"

"You never know what's out here," said Abigail. "Wolfwraiths, werewolves, unicorns, men."

Bree cleared her throat. "Well, it can be hard to be a woman alone."

"You want us to team up, don't you?" said Abigail. Then she raised an eyebrow. "You're not coming onto me, are you?"

"No," said Bree, sitting up straighter. "I don't think I'm your type."

"You're not," said Abigail. "You're too skinny."

Bree rolled her eyes. "I'm gaining weight. Anyway, it's not about teaming up, exactly. It's... sort of something else. It's about unicorns. And if you really aren't a virgin—"

"Unicorns? That's why you're asking invasive questions about my sex life?" Abigail set down her knife. "You know, I've always wanted to see one up close. They look so pretty out in the distance when you see the herds."

"They even prettier up close," said Bree. "They're breathtaking."

"Until they eat you." Abigail picked her knife back up again.

"They don't eat people," said Bree. "Look, you're all alone. You're out here afraid to sleep without setting up these alarms. You can't go on like this."

Abigail picked up the whetstone too but didn't start sharpening again. "I don't have a choice but to go on like this."

"What if you did have a choice?"

"And this has something to do with unicorns?"

Bree smiled. "It does."

* * *

Will threw open the door the cottage where he and August had been staying for nearly a month now and let the white wolf who'd been howling outside come in.

The wolf streamed past then turned to face him, growling. "No more favors, Will," said the wolf.

"What happened, Jack?" said Will.

"She found out, that's what," said Jack. "She knows August is all right, and that you and her are together. One of the guards saw you, you idiot! I thought you were being careful."

Will folded his arms over his chest. "I was careful. I don't know how anyone saw us. Why don't you shift into human form and join us for supper?" He gestured at the end of the hallway, where the kitchen was located. The cabin was small, something that had been used before the Collision by humans on hunting trips or something. It had a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Not that there was electricity or plumbing out here anymore, of course. But it was more comfortable for August than sleeping outside.

"I don't want to shift." There was venom in Jack's voice, a snarl in the undertone.

"I'm sorry she found out," said Will. "What did she do to you?"

"Not to me," said Jack. "To my mother. She beat my mother within an inch of her life. I spent all night in the cell with her after it happened. I was afraid to leave her because I didn't think they'd let me back in. I held onto her until they came in to take her to the healer. Who was instructed only to make sure that there was no infection. Didn't use any magic at all to heal the wounds. Zhanna's going to let my mother heal human slow, and every time I come to see her, I'll see how she suffers. And it's your fault."

Will licked his lips. "Jack, I didn't know."

"I just came to tell you that I can't take risks like that anymore."

"Listen, there's got to be a way to get you both out of there," said Will. "We've never really fully explored all the possibilities."

"Oh, hell, Will, not that again," said Jack. "Zhanna is more powerful than you know. The city is full of powerful witches, all of whom answer to Zhanna. And besides, it's not as if she'd let us go even if we did manage to escape. She'd hunt us down."

Will hung his head. "Right, because you're more important to her than I am."

Jack was quiet.

Will gestured down the hallway. "Please join us for dinner. I am sorry about your mother—"

"I have to get back to her," said Jack. "I only came here to tell you that you're on your own. I won't give away your location, and I won't help Zhanna to find you, but I can't go out of my way to save you or your witch either, Will. I'm sorry."

"I understand," said Will.

Jack nodded at the door. "Let me out, then."

"Please stay."

"No," said Jack. "I can't."

So Will went to the door of the cabin and opened it, and the white wolf bounded outside and into the woods. Will watched him go, and then he shut the door and sighed.

August appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Will we be all right?"

"Of course we will," he said, giving her a reassuring smile. But he wondered. How would Jack react if Zhanna threatened his mother and asked the wolf to harm August? No, Jack wouldn't hurt a defenseless woman. He had to hurt at court, but deep down, he was a good man.

Will had to believe that.

* * *

Zhanna was in no mood to be disturbed, but she could hardly ignore all of her ladies-in-waiting standing in her bedchamber. They wanted an audience, and she had to give it to them. Those were the rules. Typically, Zhanna didn't spend much time playing by the rules, but she wasn't stupid. If she pushed too hard, the witches she ruled over would push back, and enough of them together could overthrow her. She'd seen high mistresses fall before. She'd toppled the high mistress who ruled before her, in fact. She needed to tread carefully.

What she'd rather do is go back down to the dungeons and taunt Siena some more. It was so sweet seeing that woman beaten.

Maybe if she was lucky, she could even run into Jack, who'd been spending most of his time outside her cell, beside himself after what had happened to his mother. Punishing Siena had been the right call. Before the punishment, Jack had grown too bold. He had thought that he could get away with thumbing his nose at Zhanna's wishes. Now, he understood the truth, and he belonged to Zhanna again. He wouldn't be disobeying again, not anytime soon.

Her next best idea for something to do would have been to begin plotting her revenge against August Hunter, who'd slipped through Zhanna's fingers and was making a laughingstock of her. That girl couldn't be allowed to live. She'd have to find some way to do her in. It would be poetic if she could bring her back to court and then force Jack to do the honors after all.

But she couldn't contemplate any of this because all of her ladies were here, and they seemed to be lead by Gramercy herself, who was so nervous that her hands were visibly shaking.

"H-high Mistress," said Gramercy. "We demand an audience."

"Yes," said Zhanna, "I see that." She settled down on her bed and lay down on her side, lounging there and glaring at them. She had to give them an audience, but she didn't have to be formal about it if she didn't want to. Nothing wrong with using a bit of intimidation. "What is it you've come about?"

"We want to talk about our men," said a woman named Rhea.

"What?" said Zhanna, furrowing her brow. "You mean the men that I decreed no longer existed? The ones who shamed us by failing in their mission—"

"You sent them up against unicorns," said a woman named Starla. "That's hardly fair. They had no magic of their own, only the spells you gave them."

Zhanna inspected her fingernails on one hand. "They had guns."

"Which obviously didn't work," said Rhea. "They'd have been better off with swords. Then they could have cut off the unicorns' heads."

"If they'd even been able to get close enough." Zhanna waved that away. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Those men are gone, and it is as if they never existed."

"Maybe for you," said Starla.

"Yes, everyone knows ice water flows in your veins," said Rhea. "But the rest of us are warm-blooded women who gave a damn about our husbands."

Zhanna sighed. "Really? I suppose you're all going to want funerals now, aren't you? Stupid, boring funerals with everyone crying and saying lies about the men, claiming they never did a thing wrong when we all know they were far from perf—"

"We want to avenge their lives," said Starla.

Zhanna sat up straight. "What?" She was completely thrown by this. "You want to avenge men? Really?"

"Men may not have magic," said Gramercy, "but that does not mean they are lesser than us. The old ways teach that we should respect men as physically stronger than women, that there is a balance between our sexes and that we are different, but equal. You seem to have forgotten this."

Zhanna sniffed. "Equal? Men equal to witches? I don't believe that's in the old writings. I simply don't."

"We could easily prove that, but it doesn't matter one way or the other," said Rhea.

"The fact remains that many men died that were loved and adored, and they deserve better," said Starla.

"They deserve to be remembered," said Gramercy.

All of the ladies-in-waiting nodded.

"And they deserve to be avenged," said Starla.

"We are here to ask permission to form a group of witches to go out and engage with the unicorns," said Rhea.

Zhanna raised her eyebrows. "You can't be serious. It's bad enough that I sent the army of men after them. If we go after the unicorns now, hurt them, they'll retaliate."

"Not if we kill them all," said Starla. "We've spoken to Deke, who came back from the battle. He says it's a small herd. No more than twenty unicorns. If we silence them all and destroy their bodies, the other unicorns will never know it was us who did it. They'll have no reason to retaliate."

Zhanna considered. "Well... it is true that I'm a bit worried about that girl who's with them. She could be inciting them to try make a stand against us, and we wouldn't want that. An all-out war between us and the unicorns would be bad for everyone. I'd like to avoid that. But if you think that you could really wipe out all of the unicorns...?"

"We think we stand a fighting chance," said Starla. "We will bring double the amount of witches to the battle. Forty to their twenty. And we will bring more of the human weapons. Not guns, but something more destructive."

"What would that be?" said Zhanna.

"Explosives," said Rhea.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Dinah and Abigail were the first two scavenger virgins to get settled in with the unicorns besides Bree. Since they were coming of their own volition, they brought their own gear. They came with their bedrolls and backpacks and with the supplies to make fires.

The first few days and nights were nothing more than getting them used to the patterns of the unicorns. They packed up in the morning and walked all day and then made camp that night. If the girls grew tired, they rode the unicorns.

There was no scavenging yet. That would come later. For now, they were simply trying to make sure that they could all live with each other.

Thus far, it seemed promising. Abigail, for all her tough bluster, was utterly charmed by the unicorns. Whenever they put their heads in her lap, she was practically radiant.

Dinah seemed taken with them in an even more childlike way. She thought they were beautiful and wonderful, and being with the unicorns made her seem even younger.

Bree was certain that she'd chosen well. She spent her days working with the unicorns who were interested in learning human speech. As they walked, she walked with them, talking to them and getting them to talk in return. Having the other girls to talk to motivated the unicorns as well, and they were making a lot of progress.

Within a few weeks, it seemed as if the unicorns and the girls were doing well enough that Bree and Jonquil thought it might be time for the first trip back to the purple grass. They decided Dinah should be left with the main herd, where she would have Birch and a few others to communicate with. Bree and Abigail would go back west with Jonquil and Glade, whose speech had improved markedly.

They went to Haven to ask if she agreed, and she did.

They started out the following day, breaking away from the herd and going away from the rising sun.

For Bree, it was like coming home. She was back on a scavenging trip with an old friend, and also with her new friends. They scavenged along the way, stopping at outposts to trade for things they might need to bring back the grass. They got twine to tie up the bundles of dried grass and litters that could be fastened to the back of the unicorns so that they could drag the grass behind them.

Eventually, they reached their destination. The purple grass waved in the sunlight, and Bree felt a twinge, knowing that it wasn't fair that the unicorns had to leave this place.

That night, they made camp, and Bree made a fire to cook some of the meat that the unicorns had hunted for. She had gotten more used to their hunting, even though it was brutal. And Abigail hadn't even blinked at it. The unicorns still liked the cooked meat, though, and they also liked the various treats that the girls had scavenged on the way, like chocolate bars and crackers and chips.

"So, how do we do this?" Abigail asked, munching on some of the potato chips. "We're just basically going to turn this stuff into hay?"

"That's what I was thinking," said Bree. "Violet told me about it. Before the Collision, she used to watch farmers do it. They would go through with a machine and cut all the grass and then let it lie out for a few days until it was dry, and then role it into hay bales. We obviously don't have any machinery, so we'll have to do it on a much smaller scale, but I don't see why it can't work."

"What is hay?" asked Glade.

"It's dry grass," said Abigail. "They feed it to horses and cows on farms. Well, at least they used to. I know there are witch-controlled farms closer to the cities, but I don't know if they feed the animals hay still."

"That's what they eat, isn't it?" Bree said.

Abigail shrugged. "I think they can eat other things. It isn't as good for them, but they can eat them."

"Huh," said Bree. She sighed. "It's a shame that we have to go to all this trouble, anyway. The whole herd should be here, having the grass to graze from fresh."

"Why aren't they?" Abigail looked to Glade and Jonquil.

"It's not safe here," said Jonquil. "We were attacked by an army sent by the witches."

"Oh, wow," said Abigail. "I thought the witches mostly left the unicorns alone."

"Our species have a truce," said Jonquil. "A thousand years ago, there was a war between us. We drew up terms and we do our best to abide by them."

"But you said yourself that the witches don't follow the truce," said Bree.

"It's not our decision to make," said Jonquil. "It's not even Haven's."

"Whose is it?" said Bree. "Is there a leader of all the unicorns somewhere?"

Abigail laughed. "Like a unicorn president?"

"King," said Bree. "Unicorns would have a king."

"We don't have anything of the sort," said Jonquil.

"What's a king?" said Glade.

"It's an absolute ruler," said Jonquil. "A man who rules only because he was the son of the last king. A stupid idea that humans thought up."

"Hey," said Bree, but she wasn't offended.

"So, if you don't have a king, who makes decisions for the unicorns?" said Abigail.

"At the time of the war, we convened a council," said Jonquil. "But I don't know who would make a decision like that today."

"The witches don't follow the truce," said Glade.

"See?" said Bree.

Glade settled down on the ground, tucking his hooves underneath him. "I feel as though we could hold this place. If the witches came back with another army, we'd kill them all again."

"Wait," said Abigail. "You won? You beat the witches and you still left?"

"Haven thought it was best," said Jonquil. "We chose her to be our leader, and so we do as she says."

Glade yawned. "But maybe we could have stayed."

"If you guys could beat the witches—"

"They weren't witches," said Jonquil. "It was only their men they sent. They had only borrowed magic."

"And guns," said Bree.

Jonquil snorted.

"The bullets didn't really harm the unicorns," Bree explained to Abigail. "They healed up the wounds right away." She left out the part when she and Jonquil touched and the bullets bounced off his skin. She didn't really know what to say about that.

"So," said Abigail, "if the witches actually came and attacked the unicorns, they could beat you?"

"I doubt it," muttered Glade, rolling over onto his back. He was lying on one of the scavenged blankets, and he liked the way the material felt against his skin back there. But he did look a little silly, legs flailing in the air.

Bree giggled. "You don't think the witches could beat you?"

"They could kill some of us," said Jonquil, giving Glade a disapproving look. "That's something that Haven isn't willing to risk. The overall outcome of the skirmish isn't important."

Abigail furrowed her brow. "You mean, you don't want to fight because some unicorns might die?"

"Exactly," said Jonquil. "That was why we negotiated the truce in the first place. The pain of loss was too great for us."

Bree shot Abigail a look. "Can you imagine if humans felt that way? No one would fight for anything."

Abigail ran her thumb over her bottom lip, looking thoughtful. "Well, it's not the same, though, Bree. We humans have to fight, because we're being killed anyway. The wraiths, the witches, even the werewolves, even though they rarely bite humans these days." Right after the Collision, the werewolves apparently didn't realize their bites would create wolfwraiths. Once they did, they were much more careful not to bite. But the wolfwraith bite still carried the wolf venom, so wolfwraiths were still made every full moon. "If they aren't killing us, they're enslaving us or torturing us... We don't have anything to lose. Of course we're going to fight."

Jonquil cocked his head to one side. "Is it really so awful for the humans?"

"Awful?" said Abigail, shrugging. "I wouldn't know. This is the only life I've ever known. If there's a better way, I can't say I've experienced it."

Jonquil let out a noisy breath, shaking his mane. "You're saying that the unicorns have the luxury of peace, and the humans don't."

"Yes," said Abigail, "I guess I am. I don't know if I would have put it that way, but that's what I'm saying."

"It's not really peace, though, is it?" said Glade, who had rolled back over. "We're always having to drive the witches off territory we claimed fair and square, and they do things like attacking us out here for no reason. I'd say the witches have broken the peace."

"Maybe you're right," said Jonquil. "But it's not our place to say. Until a council convenes—"

"I'd like to stay here," said Glade. "I think we should bring it up to Haven. Come back to this place, stay here and protect the territory against the witches."

"But this territory wasn't claimed," said Jonquil.

"How do you claim territory?" said Bree.

"It was all done after the war a thousand years ago," said Jonquil. "There were maps."

"But those maps can't be right anymore," said Bree. "Not after the Collision."

"Nope, they're not," said Glade. "All the more reason to claim this territory as ours."

"When humans claimed territory, they used flags," said Abigail. "At least, that's what I've heard some old timers at the outposts say sometimes. Maybe you should have a flag."

"What's a flag?" said Glade.

"A piece of fabric with a design on it," said Bree. "The design stands for a country or a group of people."

"Fabric," snorted Glade.

Jonquil chortled too. Apparently that was a very funny idea to them.

Bree got up off the ground. "Oh, you think that's funny, do you?"

"Fabric isn't very durable," said Jonquil between laughs.

Bree shook her head.

"Where are you going?" said Glade.

"To pee," said Bree. "If you must know." And she wandered off into the darkness.

Having done her business, she headed back in the direction of the fire.

Something caught her foot.

She tripped, falling face first into the grass. She let out a surprised cry.

And then the whole world ruptured in a burst of red sparks and orange fire.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bree's ears were ringing. The world seemed to be reverberating to the sound that echoed in her skull, and she was clinging to the ground to try to keep from tumbling off into outer space.

She was disoriented, unable to tell what had happened. The air was hot. It was singeing the hairs on her arms.

It hurt. She tried to scream.

Maybe she did scream. She didn't know, because she couldn't hear anything except that awful ringing in her ears, as if the explosion was happening over and over again.

All around her, all she could see was raging fire.

Then Jonquil ran through the flames to her. He spoke, but she couldn't hear him over the roar of the fire.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and climbed onto his back.

He galloped out of the flames and back to the safety of their small fire. He gently laid her down on the ground, and his horn glowed. He touched it to her forehead. Suddenly, that warm glowing tingling feeling she'd felt the first day washed over her. Jonquil was healing her.

She looked down to see that blisters on her arms and legs, visible through the tatters of her clothes, were fading away as new, healed skin emerged. She gasped. "Jonquil." And she could hear herself. He had healed her ears too.

"You're all right?" said Jonquil.

She nodded, getting to her feet.

Jonquil and Glade faced the fire in the grass.

"What's happening?" said Abigail, looking wildly around. "What happened to you, Bree?"

Bree ran a disbelieving finger over the place where she'd been burned. There wasn't even a mark, let alone a scar. It was as if the injury had never been. "I... I'm fine."

Jonquil looked over his shoulder at the two of them. "You have your knives, Virgin Bree and Virgin Abigail?"

"Yes," said Abigail, bending down to take hers out of an ankle sheath.

Bree took her knife out as well. She also had an ankle sheath.

"We're going to see what's out there," said Jonquil. "You may need to protect yourselves."

Bree and Abigail both nodded at the unicorn and stood with their backs to the fire, knives at the ready. They watched as the two unicorns made their way out into the darkness. At first, they could see the outlines of their white bodies and horns, but then they got too far away. Bree couldn't see anything.

She turned to Abigail, but she didn't speak. She wasn't sure what to say, and she wasn't sure if it was wise to make noise. Of course, they were standing in front of their fire, so it wasn't as if they weren't visible. Bree wondered if they should put the campfire out, or if it was too late for that.

Probably too late.

Abigail lifted her chin, nostrils flaring.

Bree gave her a fierce look in return.

They both turned to peer back into the darkness.

Bree began to worry that the unicorns simply wouldn't come back. She tried to tell herself that was silly. The unicorns were very powerful and could heal bullet wounds. There was no reason to think that they'd be hurt by whatever had caused that explosion.

Bree didn't even know what it had been. Some kind of bomb that she'd tripped by walking on it? Like a land mine? Or had it been hurled at her from an unseen foe?

Another explosion. A burst of sound and light and fire.

Bree and Abigail started toward it, moving on instinct. At the same time, they remembered they were supposed to stay back and stopped moving.

The explosion had occurred only feet from Jonquil and Glade who were now standing among bits of burning grass that were raining down from the sky. All around them were little tufts of flame.

Glade reared up on his hind legs, letting out a whinny.

And then, from all around the unicorns, dark figures appeared. They were only shadows with tall, conical hats. They advanced on the unicorns.

"Witches," whispered Bree. She started forward again.

Abigail caught her sleeve and stopped her.

At once, explosions poured down on the unicorns, one after the other. The air was full of smoke. Bree breathed it. She smelled it.

When the smoke cleared, the witches had tightened their circle around the unicorns. More tufts of grass were burning. Between the witches bodies, illuminated in the scant light, one of the unicorns wasn't moving.

"No!" screamed Bree and took off running.

This time Abigail didn't stop her, because she was running too, brandishing her knife, her teeth bared.

Bree leaped onto the back of one of the witches, bringing down her knife into the woman's neck. She pulled it out. Blood spattered.

The witch threw Bree off with a roar.

Bree tumbled to the ground, landing on her backside. She held her bloody knife out at the witch.

The witch turned to face Bree, but the witch's face was shadowed by her hat. Bree couldn't see her expression, only the hand that shot out, holding her broom. She pointed the tip of the broom at Bree. Dark red power poured out, heading straight for the scavenger.

Bree rolled over, narrowly missing the bolt of power. It hit right next to her, singeing the ground.

The witch gestured with one hand.

Bree felt herself being dragged across the ground by an unseen force. She struggled, grabbing handfuls of grass with the hand that wasn't holding the knife, but she couldn't stop her movement.

The witch cackled.

Bree came to a stop at the witch's feet. She tried to get up, tried to stab with her knife again, but she couldn't move.

The witch pointed the tip of the broom at Bree's face.

CHAPTER TWENTY

But before the witch could do anything, she lit up, head-to-toe. She glowed purple. And then she simply disappeared into glittering ash that fell to the ground.

Vaporized by a unicorn.

Bree let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and turned to see Jonquil standing a few feet away.

"Didn't we tell you to stay back, Virgin Bree?" said Jonquil.

Bree scrambled to her feet. "Did you say that? Because I only remembered hearing the part about maybe needing my knife." She held it out and swung it in a circle, looking for another threat.

But most of the witches were gone. The landscape was dotted with fires and piles of sparkling ashes. The couple witches that remained alive threw their legs over their brooms and took to the air, dark figures flying across the night sky.

In front of her lay Glade. He was the unicorn she'd seen lying on the ground. Glade was still sprawled out, but he was moving his horn. He sent a bolt of purple magic through the air to catch a witch who was flying away. The witch went up in smoke.

"Glade!" said Bree, heading for him.

Abigail skidded to a stop next to the unicorn as well. "Some of them got away," she said. "Cowards scattered and ran when they saw they hadn't killed either of the unicorns."

"Is Glade hurt?" said Bree.

Glade coughed. "I need to put my head in one of your laps. I'll be fine."

Bree peered over his head. She was horrified. Glade's lower body and back legs were mangled and twisted.

Abigail had already dropped to the ground. She pulled Glade's head into her lap and stroked his mane. "Here. Here, whatever you need."

Bree watched as Glade's skin and bone and muscles began to reform themselves in front of her eyes. She was stunned.

Jonquil came around to the other side and pointed his horn at Glade's body.

"Save your strength," Glade said to Jonquil. "I can heal this myself."

Jonquil sighed. But he seemed to acquiesce. He waited, staring down at Glade's body. Bree went to him, and they stood together, watching as the unicorn healed.

"What was that?" said Abigail. "Why were those witches out here? I've never seen witches so far from the cities."

"One of them said something before they attacked," said Glade.

"Yes," said Jonquil. "They said it was in retaliation for the men we killed."

"But those men attacked you," said Bree. "They brought it on themselves."

"When the death of a loved one is concerned, most are not rational," said Jonquil. "The witches were hurt by the loss of those men, and they wanted vengeance. If we could have kept from killing them, it probably would have been better. Now, we have only enraged them further."

Glade snorted. "I'm the one who should be enraged."

"Exactly," said Bree. "They burned your grass. They wounded Glade. They nearly killed me."

"But we are all fine now," said Jonquil.

"So," said Abigail from the ground, her hand buried in Glade's mane, "that means you roll over for them? They'll keep coming after you, and you'll keep running?"

"It's not my decision," said Jonquil.

"After we tell Haven about this, she'll insist that we do something about it," said Glade, who was completely healed now. He nuzzled Abigail's hand. "Thank you, sweet Abigail."

"Of course," said Abigail.

Glade got to his feet. "Even Haven will think this is madness."

"It's not up to Haven either," said Jonquil. "We must preserve peace. That is what all unicorns decided."

"That was a thousand years ago in a different world," said Glade. "Maybe if your body had been blown up, you'd feel differently." He started away from the others.

Jonquil hung his head.

Bree put her hand against his flank. "Peace at any price, Jonquil? Surely, there's got to be a line."

"It's not my decision," said Jonquil. "And it may not matter anyway. Those witches are likely even angrier than they were when they first came to this place. They may not stop coming for us. We must leave now."

* * *

"What do you mean, it didn't work?" Zhanna stared at the woman in front of her, who was dirty, her dress in rags. Rhea hardly looked like the proud witch who had demanded they go after the unicorns. The two were in the living room of Zhanna's suite, standing over her black leather couch.

Rhea's hands shook. "It was a massacre. We even hit one of the unicorns with the explosives, but it didn't die. It lay there, bleeding and broken, using its horn to wipe out one after the other of us. We all ran."

Zhanna pressed her lips together. "It has been a long time since we have engaged the unicorns. We may have forgotten just how powerful they are."

"It's obvious that the human weapons are completely useless against them. When we go back—"

"We're not going back. Are you insane?" Zhanna's eyes flashed. "I've lost half the men in court and all my ladies-in-waiting except you and Gramercy." Gramercy had come back with her tail between her legs a day before Rhea, but she hadn't been able to give a proper account of what happened. She'd just sobbed and said things about glitter and smoke and then sobbed some more. Hell, she was behaving like one of the chits that Jack had broken the mind of.

"Which is why we must do something," said Rhea. "This can't stand."

Damn it, but the other witch was right. It was one thing to declare that men of the court didn't exist anymore. It was another thing entirely to ignore the deaths of witches ranked as mistresses, high up in her own court. Those were important women who had been killed out there. Zhanna sat down on the couch. "You're right."

"There was a girl," said Rhea.

Zhanna looked up at Rhea, who now towered over her. She motioned for the other witch to sit down. "A girl?"

Rhea said. "She had a knife. She rushed at us from behind. She stabbed Starla."

Zhanna made a face. "It must be the same girl who was riding the unicorn. She's the one who got all this started. If it wasn't for her, they wouldn't have found the purple grass, and maybe they wouldn't be nearly as powerful. The girl's the problem. If we take out the girl—"

"It can't be that simple. We have attacked them twice now, Zhanna. They will come back for us. We need to strike first."

"Any strike is suicide," said Zhanna. "And besides, we don't know that they will come for us. They are quite attached to the idea of peace, after all, or at least they used to be before this girl arrived. If she hadn't been there, when we attacked, they might have simply run. They might not have even defended themselves. No, the girl has changed everything."

"Even if that's so, we can't get to her," said Rhea. "The girl was burned by one of the explosives, and the unicorns healed her. They protected her from Starla. And when it comes down to it, there was another girl too—"

"Another girl?" Zhanna furrowed her brow, vaulting off the couch. "She's expanding. More virgins. Maybe a virgin for every herd. She's amassing an army. We have to stop her."

"But how? She is protected."

Zhanna paced, thinking. "We have to be smart here. Don't go for something obvious." She paced some more. And then she stopped. She had it. "If she wasn't a virgin anymore, she'd be no good to the unicorns."

"She'll be guarded all the time. There's no way someone can get in there to violate her."

"Not violate her," said Zhanna, lips curling. "It would be her choice. We'd send someone to her that she couldn't resist."

Rhea sighed. "Well, who would that be?"

"Have you met my pet dog, Jack of the Lantern?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Jack wouldn't meet Zhanna's gaze. He couldn't look at her, because every time he did, he thought of the way Zhanna had laughed as his mother had been beaten. He wanted to kill the High Mistress. He wanted to rip her apart with his claws and teeth, throw her entrails over the chandeliers and bathe in her blood. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill her, and trying would only result in more punishment for his mother.

So Jack stayed in his corner, huddled on the little dog bed that Zhanna had given him. She let him stay there when he wasn't chained up, and she hadn't chained him since the incident with Siena. It seemed that Zhanna knew it wasn't necessary.

Zhanna's hands in his fur, gently stroking. "Oh, come, now, Jack, why don't you shift into human form?"

Was that an order? Did he have to obey?

"Shift," she said again, steel in her voice.

Apparently, it was. He shifted. Now he was a naked man huddled on an oversized dog bed. He gritted his teeth and bowed his head.

Zhanna threw him a pair of leather pants.

He tugged them on.

She watched, leering.

He hated her.

"I have a job for you," said Zhanna. "I think you'll enjoy it. It means you get to spend time away from court."

Jack tightened the laces of his pants. Away from court? That was new. He met her gaze evenly, staring at her, hating her, and waiting.

"Are you pleased?" said Zhanna with a little laugh. "I can never tell with you."

Still, he waited. When she said nothing, he realized she wanted him to speak. "What's the job?"

She shook her head. "Really, Jack. I could give this job to someone else. I could let any number of my concubines run wild in the woods for weeks."

Weeks? What was she going on about?

"You could at least say thank you," said Zhanna.

"Thank you," said Jack in a flat voice.

Zhanna rolled her eyes. "Well, I shouldn't expect more from you that that, I suppose. It's an easy job. All I need you to do is seduce a virgin. Shouldn't be a problem for someone like you. She's likely simple and not well-versed in the ways of men, and you are... well, you."

"A virgin in the woods?" He raised his eyebrows. This was like no job Zhanna had ever given him.

"She's with some unicorns," said Zhanna.

The unicorn girl. The one she'd sent Caspar after. Jack felt a pang go through him, but he kept it from showing in his face. She's not the girl in the dream, idiot, he told himself. The girl in the dream is a figment of your imagination. But hadn't Will said that wolves could have prophetic dreams?

"I'd ask you to kill her," said Zhanna, "or break her mind. I hate her. But I do want you to come back, and I'm not sure if the unicorns would let you escape if you hurt her. No, she must do this of her own free will. She must break her bond to them by choosing to sleep with you. Then, they will feel betrayed, and they will blame her. You can manage that, can't you?"

Jack licked his lips, because another pang had gone through him, this one a smoldering line of lust. She's not the girl from the dreams, he said to himself again, but he wasn't sure he believed it anymore.

"Jack?" said Zhanna. "Is that a problem?"

He spoke and, to his horror, his voice was hoarse. "What if it is?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicion coloring her expression. "Why would there be a problem?"

"Maybe it's different," he said, and his voice was steady again, much to his relief. "Maybe I don't want to destroy something innocent."

Zhanna chuckled. "All the more reason for it to be you. If you fail me, Jack, I don't have to tell you the things I've dreamed up for your mother, do I?"

Jack shuddered, the image of his mother's ruined skin rising up with bile in the back of his throat.

"So?" said Zhanna. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem at all," he muttered.

* * *

It was harder than Zhanna had made it out to find the unicorns she was talking about. She only had the word of some witch of the Way of the Wand who had done some initial spying and asking around as to where the unicorns usually migrated.

Unicorns were creatures of habit, even if they did stay constantly on the move. They tended to go back and forth over the same ground.

The spy only knew some of their typical migration routes. Jack found two other unicorn herds before he found the right one, and he was only sure that he'd found the right one when he saw the girl.

Because she was the girl from the dreams. Of course she was. She was her exactly, down to the little freckle under her ear that he had kissed.

Not really kissed, of course. Dreamed of kissing.

He watched her with the unicorns, got close enough to hear her speaking to them. He was astonished to hear speech coming from nearly two-thirds of the unicorns in the herd. Some spoke haltingly, like children, but many really could speak well, and they were all talking about the witches. Jack hadn't realized that there had been another attack on the unicorns or all the destruction they'd caused. He'd been too caught up in his mother's condition to pay attention to the gossip at court.

The girl and the unicorns were talking about whether or not they should go after the witches. There seemed to be some kind of heady debate over it, and many of the unicorns were angry and wanted to teach the witches a lesson.

This was why Zhanna had sent him to here. To quell an uprising that could very well destroy her.

Zhanna was the person he hated most in life, and these were the creatures who stood a chance at actually hurting her, and he was supposed to do her bidding?

No, he couldn't do it.

Especially because of the girl. If the girl was a perfect copy of the girl he'd dreamed about, that meant that the dreams were prophetic. And that meant...

No, it was confusing. Zhanna had sent him here to seduce the girl, and in the dreams, he and the girl—

Actually, in the dreams, nothing really happened. That was why he always woke from them sweaty and frustrated, because he would dream of watching her riding naked through the woods or dream of her soft flesh in his arms, his lips on her body, but... he had never dreamed of having her.

He formed another plan right on the spot. He would not seduce this girl. He would not destroy his only chance to be free of Zhanna. Instead, he would wander around in the woods for weeks on end and then go back to court and claim he couldn't find her or the unicorns.

If he waited long enough, maybe the unicorns would organize themselves enough to strike at the witches, and then all his problems would be solved.

Maybe afterward, he could find the girl, just because he didn't know if he could bear it if he didn't try to know her.

But it was a dangerous game, because if the unicorns waited too long, then his mother could be badly hurt. He couldn't risk that. How long could he wait? He ran different scenarios in his head. Days came and went, and he watched the girl and watched the unicorns, and tried to convince himself he could manage waiting a month, but then thought he must only wait a fortnight, and then thought even that was too long.

He thought of his mother, still recovering in her cell.

And then the girl. Magic's sake, the girl. She moved like a dancer. She was small and delicate and beautiful, but there was a sturdiness to her, a toughness beneath it all, and that made him want her even more. She would walk by, and he was seized by wanting. His mouth went dry, his palms got moist, and he felt sick with wanting her. At night, he dreamed, and the dreams were more vivid than they had ever been. He dreamed of her body, of the curves of her hip and the swell of her thighs and—

He always woke up agonized with need for her, and he never found any release.

But then, one day, the leader of the unicorns made some decree, which Jack didn't hear, because the leader apparently couldn't speak aloud and only communicated in the mind-to-mind communication that the other unicorns used. But the girl and the other unicorns were talking about about it. And the other girls as well, because there were two other girls with the herd. And from what Jack could gather, the leader of the herd had said there would be no more discussion of fighting with the witches. The peace the unicorns had was too dear or something. It wasn't the place of the herd to go against a thousand years of the practice of peace.

Jack knew dark, dark despair.

Now, he had no hope at all. If the unicorns would not work against Zhanna, then he had no choice. He had to carry out her wishes.

And when he watched the girl again and thought of how badly he wanted to seduce her, he couldn't even feel too sorry about it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"I've only come for my things," Abigail said. She was standing on the other side of a row of unicorns, all of which were baring their teeth at her.

Bree was confused. She had no idea what was going on. She'd awoken from her sleep because unicorns were all rushing in one direction, kicking up clods of grass under their hooves as they hurried through the field where they'd all been sleeping.

Bree had gotten up and followed them only to find Abigail standing here, and all the unicorns forming a line, a barrier, to keep her out.

"You can let me in for my pack and my bedroll," said Abigail, looking frustrated. "It can't be as bad as all that."

"You have a stink," growled one of the unicorns. "We don't want it to contaminate the place where we sleep."

A stink? What?

Bree looked around at the unicorns, searching for Jonquil. He'd set her straight. He could explain this. But she didn't find Jonquil, only Glade. That was just as good. Glade and Abigail had a bond, had been deeply connected since the trip to the purple grass. Bree dropped down eye level to Glade. "What's going on?"

Glade let out a furious whinny. "I should never have let her go without me. I thought I could trust her. But Jonquil is right. You're all the same, you human girls." And Glade turned and ran into the darkness.

Bree was even more confused. She tried to move through the row of unicorns to get to Abigail, but the unicorns closed ranks, blocking her.

"Let me through," said Bree.

"She might get her stink on you," said one of the unicorns.

Bree looked at Abigail. "I'm sorry. I don't understand what's going on."

Abigail sighed. "I can explain."

"Okay," said Bree.

"We'd rather you didn't talk to her," said Birch, glaring up at Bree. "The Abigail has betrayed us."

"Betrayed?" said Bree. "She just left two hours ago to go scavenging." True, Abigail was supposed to be gone a few days and to return with some supplies like matches and more blankets for the unicorns. So, it was odd that she was back so soon. But she couldn't see anything else out of the ordinary.

Abigail rubbed her forehead. "Maybe you could just gather up my things, Bree? I'll leave and be out of their hair if you do."

"Leave?" said Bree. "Why aren't you as confused as I am about the way they're behaving?"

"Don't talk to her," growled one of the unicorns.

"I have to talk to her," said Bree. "She's my friend. Now, let me through."

No response from the unicorns.

"Let me through or I won't cook meat for any of you ever again."

The unicorns looked over their shoulders at her, a few letting out disappointed whines. Then they grudgingly parted to let her through.

"Don't get too close!" called out Birch. "Don't bring the smell back."

Bree was flabbergasted. She couldn't understand it at all. She held out her hand to Abigail.

Abigail shook her head. "No, maybe it's best if we don't touch. I don't want to contaminate them with the way I smell."

"You don't smell."

"Not to you," said Abigail. "But to them, I think I'm thoroughly changed." She bit down on her bottom lip. "I didn't expect it would be so upsetting to me. I knew when I did it that I'd lose my space here, but I thought it was worth it... I hope it is. I only need my things, and I'll go."

"You can't be on your own, and what did you do?"

"I won't be alone," said Abigail. "I'll be with Lana. Lana Griggs? I think you met her once."

Bree nodded. Lana was another scavenger, a few years older than Abigail. She was a loner type, so Bree didn't know her well. "Why are you going off with her?"

"Well, after I parted ways with Brian, Lana and I met up once or twice and I have to admit, I got a big crush on her, but she said that she didn't want to be anyone's first girlfriend and definitely not anyone's first lover, because it was too much responsibility, and that I should go off and get my heart broken and then come find her, but..."

And suddenly, Bree understood. "Oh," she whispered. "You and Lana, you..."

"I'm not a virgin anymore," said Abigail. "I know I can't be with the unicorns. Please get my things for me."

Bree blew out a noisy breath. "Well," she said. "Well, hell."

* * *

"I told you the dreams were prophetic," said Will. He was outside the cabin in wolf form, and Jack was prowling the edge of the forest, looking agitated. "This must mean that there's something you do to bring forth the black unicorn. You know there's a legend that the black unicorn was the essence of forbidden lovers, and that their—"

"It doesn't matter what I'm supposed to do," said Jack, "because I have to fulfill Zhanna's wishes now, and she wants to destroy the girl."

Will looked up at the moon, heavy in the sky overhead. "You can't do that. How many years have you been dreaming of this girl?"

"Decades and decades. A hundred," said Jack, his voice bitter.

"She's your destiny. She's meant to free you from Zhanna. Her and her unicorns. That must be it. You must do everything in your power to help her."

"I can't." Jack was desperate. "I thought that I could wait until the unicorns rose against the witches and then I would finally be free. But they aren't going to go against the witches. They are too concerned with preserving peace. So, every moment I delay is another moment that puts my mother in worse danger."

"All right," said Will. "It sounds as though you've made up your mind to do as Zhanna has ordered you."

"I have." It was practically a sob, even though it came from a wolf's throat.

Will turned to the moon again. "Then why did you come to me at all?"

Jack didn't answer.

Will turned back to his friend.

Jack was gone, having slipped into the woods.

"Jack!" called Will. He raised his face to the cold moon and howled.

There was an answering howl from the woods.

Will scampered into the trees after his friend.

But Jack was running faster and faster, darting farther away with every moment, and Will couldn't stray too far from the cabin where he stayed with August. So he stopped, and he let his friend go.

Why had Jack come? Had he wanted Will to talk him out of following the course he was on? If so, Will had failed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

After the business with Abigail, Bree felt confused. Even though Abigail told her that being with the unicorns had been a wonderful experience and she was grateful to have had the opportunity, Bree still felt as though she had chosen wrong. And the unicorns seemed annoyed about it as well. They held a grudge against Abigail, and Bree felt it was tinged with jealousy, as if the unicorns were spurned lovers that Abigail had deserted in favor of another.

But the unicorns weren't lovers. They were friends. They were even family. But there was none of the heat and excitement of romance, and Bree didn't blame Abigail for wanting it.

Bree wanted that too. Someday, she thought she would like to move on from being the unicorns' virgin and know what it was to be with a man. Not the sordid way that Violet had to do it, of course, and not against her will.

However, she supposed she hadn't quite realized how firmly she'd be cast out if she lost her virginity. She had assumed that she could still travel with the unicorns, but that she wouldn't be able to do anything for them when they laid their heads in her lap. After all, she had seen them interact with people who weren't virgins before, and she hadn't seen them all react so terribly to the stink.

But Jonquil explained to her that it was one thing to interact with a nonvirgin outside of the place where they slept and ate. He said it was doable, though unpleasant. But having that scent near their food or on the breeze when they were trying to go to sleep was impossible for the unicorns. They could not bear it.

"So," said Bree to Jonquil, "someday I'll have to leave you."

"No," said Jonquil. "You don't have to."

"I might... I might want to," said Bree.

Jonquil gave her a look that was nearly hateful.

That hurt Bree so much that she took off running. Jonquil came after her, but she yelled at him to go away. She ran and ran, tears pricking her eyes. When Jonquil saw she was crying, he left her. The unicorns tended to let sobbing females sort things out themselves. They didn't much care for tears.

After running for some time, she came to a stop and hurled herself down on a bed of soft moss to cry in earnest. But she found that there weren't any tears now. She wasn't hurt by Jonquil's look anymore, only angry. How dare he demand that she give up an experience that nearly every other being got to have just because it would mean she smelled bad to him? The unicorns mated, after all. Jonquil had probably... except he'd said that thing about not having a mate because he was too human. And anyway, thinking about Jonquil doing that made her feel embarrassed and queasy, so she decided to drop that train of thought.

She wrapped her hands around her knees.

And there was movement out of the corner of her eye.

She leaped to her feet, tugging out her knife from her ankle sheath as she did.

A huge white wolf stepped out of the trees and into her path.

She pointed the knife at him, squaring her shoulders. Even though she realized that she couldn't possibly scare the creature, who was obviously a werewolf, given his size.

The wolf chuckled. "You're a fierce one, aren't you?"

It talked? She had heard stories about werewolves talking, but she hadn't believed them. Wolfwraiths didn't talk, after all. Why would the werewolves be so different? Except they were, apparently.

"Put down your knife, human female," said the wolf. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"You're lying," said Bree.

He laughed again. "Maybe I am, at that. But I can promise you'll make it through this encounter unscathed. I'm here to offer my services. It seems to me that you're lost."

"I'm not lost," she said, but she suddenly realized that she wasn't entirely sure how to make it back to the unicorns. She was fairly sure she could just go back the way she'd come. But she had to admit that she hadn't been paying much attention as she ran through the forest.

"Well, you looked... distraught, at any rate," said the wolf.

Bree stared him down. "What do you want with me?"

"Would you put down that knife? We both know that there's no way you could possibly harm me with it."

If she put down the knife, she would be defenseless. "I don't think so."

"Are you worried that the wolf in the woods is going to gobble you up?"

Bree swallowed.

"I've already promised not to hurt you."

"Well, I don't trust you," said Bree.

"Why not? Because I've got big teeth and big claws?" The wolf was gently amused.

"Because you're a werewolf, and you serve the witches."

"I don't," said the wolf. He lowered his head, an imitation of a bow. "My name is Jack, and I am a wild wolf. I serve no one."

Bree's hand wavered and the knife fell a few inches. "What do you mean, a wild wolf?"

"I mean that I live out in the woods on my own. I don't even run with a pack. I'm a lone wolf."

"You could be lying," said Bree, raising the knife again. "You could be here to spy for the witches and trying to gain my trust."

"Yes," said the wolf in an ironic voice. "The witches would obviously send a wolf to try to gain your trust."

Bree bit down on her lip. She supposed that didn't make sense, did it? She hesitated for a moment, and then she lowered the knife and tucked it back inside her ankle sheath. "I'm still not lost."

"Very well, then," said Jack. "You looked in distress. I saw you running through the woods crying, and I assumed you were lost."

"No," said Bree.

"You're very far from any other human settlements," said Jack.

"I suppose," said Bree, drawing herself up. "But I'm a scavenger, so I don't live in a permanent settlement anyway."

"Really?" said Jack, and there was a knowing lilt to his voice. "I thought perhaps you lived with those unicorns."

Bree narrowed her eyes. "What do you care about the unicorns?"

"Nothing, only, as I've said, I came to offer my services. To lead you back to your home."

"I don't need your help."

The wolf laughed again. "It's as if you don't realize you're prey. You're just a pigeon, fluttering your wings at me, full of bluster. But I'm a wolf, little bird."

Bree's jaw dropped. "I'm not a little... bird."

The wolf kept laughing. "Pigeon. It suits you."

"Go away," said Bree. "I don't need your help, and I don't want you around."

The wolf still laughed.

Bree'd had enough of this. Something about that wolf was very, very unsettling. She sniffed, wiping at her eyes, and she turned and stalked off into the forest. After a few strides, she turned back to see if the wolf was following her.

But there was no one there at all.

* * *

"Are there such things as wild wolves?" said Bree as she and Dinah worked strips of meat onto spits to roast over the open flame in the unicorn camp. The unicorns were always eager for more cooked meat, and she had taught Dinah to help her prepare it so that the job went more quickly.

Jonquil was pacing next to the fire. "What did you mean when you said that you might want to not be a virgin?"

"I know that there are wild regular wolves," said Bree, setting a spit over the fire, "but I mean werewolves. Do any of the werewolves live in the wild instead of with the witches?"

Jonquil paced. "Do you have some idea of when you might want that? Are you thinking maybe in ten years or ten months or ten weeks? Do you have some fellow in mind for the job?"

"I thought that all the wolves lived in the cities with the witches," said Bree, picking up another spit and reaching for another strip of meat. The meat was all laid out on a clean wooden board.

"So did I," said Dinah.

Bree turned to look at her. She'd almost forgotten that the girl was listening in.

Jonquil stopped pacing. "I feel you should know something. I learned human speech when I was made a captive in the human world, before the Collision. I spent time with a human girl, but one day she chose to no longer be a maiden, and then I could have no interaction with her at all, because it was far too painful to think of the way things had been. I swore I would never let myself get so close to another virgin. And no matter how many we've had in our midst since the Collision, I have kept my distance as best as I could. And then you come along, and now you're telling me you want to leave."

Bree sighed. "It's not personal, Jonquil. It's only that it's not fair to ask me to stay a virgin my whole life. I might want to have children someday. You can't take that from me just because you want me here."

"You don't need children. Why, you can help out with the baby unicorns."

Bree gave him a look. "It wouldn't be the same."

"I suppose we don't have babies very often," said Jonquil, sighing. "Not much point when we live so long and we're practically indestructible."

"I'm not saying it would be soon," said Bree. "And no, I don't have anyone in mind for the job. It's only that I didn't realize you would all be so hateful to me if I wasn't a virgin. I thought we could still live together. I thought that, even if I couldn't give you magic, I could still cook meat for you or scavenge for you. I didn't realize..."

"You would want that afterward?" said Jonquil.

"Of course."

"No, you're saying that, but you don't know," said Jonquil. "When a virgin finds a man, she's not interested in the unicorns anymore. She's only interested in him."

Bree stuck another spit on the fire. "I wouldn't be that way. I'm sure of it."

"Well," said Jonquil. "I don't want you to stop being a virgin, ever. And I don't think you should run off into the woods by yourself."

Bree rolled her eyes. "Afraid I'll meet some man out there and decide to do it on a whim?"

"Yes," said Jonquil.

"Well, I wouldn't do that. It's not about... the act," said Bree. "And you shouldn't worry. I wouldn't do it on a whim. Besides, I didn't meet a man out there, I met a werewolf." Of course, now that Bree thought about it, she supposed the werewolf sometimes was a man, and she felt that uncomfortable feeling again.

"A werewolf?" Jonquil glared at her. "Why didn't you say something?"

Bree rolled her eyes again.

"She did say something," said Dinah. "You just weren't listening to her."

Both Bree and Jonquil looked at the girl. Both of them seemed to have forgotten she was around.

"Bree wanted to know if there were wild werewolves," said Dinah. "Ones that don't work for the witches."

"Right," said Jonquil.

"Well, are there?" said Bree.

"Yes," said Jonquil. "But they live in a pack, and not in these woods."

"He said he was a lone wolf," said Bree.

"You spoke to him?"

"He spoke to me," said Bree. "But there was something about him... Something off."

"Well, wolves have been known to eat humans," said Jonquil. "Unlike the stories about unicorns, I assure you that they are quite capable of that. I think you should stay away from him."

"I didn't go out looking for him," said Bree.

"All the more reason not to leave the camp alone," said Jonquil.

Bree groaned. It was as if all the trust she'd built up with the unicorns had been destroyed in one fell swoop. Damn Abigail. If she hadn't lost her virginity, none of this would be happening.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"Have you got it?" said Bree to Dinah, who was carrying an armload of blankets. She and the girl had come into an abandoned village to look for supplies and had found a jackpot in one of the houses. Bree had an armload of blankets too. They probably had enough for every one of the unicorns in the herd now, and she was hoping Jonquil would be pleased.

He and Glade were waiting at the edge of the village. Bree had convinced them that it didn't make any sense for them to follow the girls around. Truly, she just wanted to try to build back the trust between herself and the unicorns, because it seemed to have been shattered. Allowing her to have a few moments on her own might show them that she wouldn't go off and do what Abigail had done. Maybe, given a little time, things could go back to the way they had been before.

She had already given some consideration to asking another scavenger virgin to join the unicorns, but she didn't think now was the time to bring it up. The unicorns were too wary. What Abigail had done had hurt them. Bree understood why Abigail had made her choice, but that didn't make things easier right now.

Luckily, there was no chance that Dinah was going to do anything similar. Dinah was completely at home with the unicorns, happily helping the unicorns practice their speech, making fires, and cooking meat. At night, she would go around the encampment and cover the unicorns with blankets they'd scavenged for them so that they were comfortable and warm.

"I'm fine," Dinah laughed. "You should watch where you're going and not me."

Bree swung her head back around and peered over the top of the blanket pile. Ahead of her, she saw a street overgrown with weeds and grass. There were houses on either side of the street, covered in vines and shrubbery. Nature was fighting hard to take back the old neighborhood, even as it stood tall and empty and still.

Then—movement out of the corner of her eye. Panic shot through her and she turned her head in the direction of it, hoping it would be nothing more than an animal.

It was a man. He came out from between the houses. He was wearing leather pants and a brown tunic. He moved like a predator, sleek and graceful. Bree could see a hint of his dusky skin at the collar of his shirt, could see his lean muscle moving beneath his clothes. Her heart picked up speed.

A man alone might not be a problem, but if he had friends, and he wanted to alert them, it could be. The unicorns were close, but they might be out of earshot, and if she and Dinah were outnumbered, the men could carry them off or hurt them before the unicorns arrived.

Making a split second decision, Bree dropped her blankets and went into a crouch, tugging out her knife as she did so. Before the man could even acknowledge them, she sprang up from the crouch and launched her body into his. She collided with him and they both went down on the ground. Straddling him, she put her blade to his throat. "How many of you are there?" she said.

The man looked startled. Then he moved—and he was strong and fast. In seconds, their positions were switched. She was on her back and his body was pressed against hers. He pinned her hand with the knife above her head. "Pigeon has talons," he murmured, looking down at her with an amused smile.

Pigeon? Her eyes widened in horror. "You're the wolf."

"I am." His hand on her wrist caressed her skin.

She let out a little gasp. She hadn't realized the skin on her wrist was so... sensitive. And his body was warm through his clothes. Warm and... firm.

"You're quite rude, you know, pigeon," he said in a soft voice. "Not only because of the fact you keep trying to stab me with your little knife, but because I've told you my name, and you've never told me yours."

That was right. He'd told her that his name was Jack.

"Her name is Bree," said Dinah's voice, hard. "And you've better get off her." Dinah was behind Jack, her own knife at his neck.

Jack laughed. But he let go of Bree's wrist. "Bree." He seemed to savor the word. "I like that."

"Dinah, maybe you should run for the unicorns," said Bree.

Jack got to his feet in one fluid movement, and he offered Bree a hand up. "No need. I'm not a threat to either of you."

Bree ignored his hand and got to her feet on her own. She brushed herself off. "Fine. Then go." She pointed.

Jack ran his thumb over his lower lip, as if considering this. "The truth is, Bree, that ever since our meeting the other day in the woods, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Bree's stomach suddenly felt unpleasantly fluttery. "What?"

Jack smiled again. He had long, long dark lashes that ringed his eyes. His eyes were almost pretty, but his face was jaggedly masculine. "I've been having dreams about you, you see," he said in a soft voice, as if he was sharing a secret with her.

Bree took a step backwards. "I'm going to yell for the unicorns if you don't leave."

"You'll do what you have to, I suppose," he said. "I couldn't possibly walk away from you, though. All I want is to be near you, listening to you speak, even if all you say is that you want me far away from you."

Bree sniffed. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard."

"Well, it's not my fault that you're so alluring, pigeon." He shrugged. "I don't suppose you'd take a walk with me?"

She gaped at him. "You... you... Stay away from me." She picked up her blankets and began marching past him.

He stepped into her path. "Pigeon. At least allow me to help you with those."

"No," she said, through gritted teeth. "And stop calling me pigeon."

Dinah offered Jack her stack of blankets. "You could carry mine if you wanted."

Jack laughed. "And what would your name be?"

"Don't talk to Dinah," said Bree, kicking herself mentally as she realized she'd unwittingly given away Dinah's name.

"Now that would be rude," said Jack, taking the stack of blankets from Dinah. "And unlike you, pigeon, I have impeccable manners."

Bree was alternating between wanting to pick up a large rock and smash Jack's skull in and enjoying the memory of his hard body pressed against hers. Why that should be enjoyable she wasn't even sure. And really, there wasn't any reason for him to be so strong or to have such thick, long lashes like that. No reason at all.

"So you're the lone werewolf?" said Dinah.

"Pigeon's been talking about me, I see," said Jack.

"Why did you want to know my name if you aren't even going to use it?" said Bree.

Jack smirked. "My deepest apologies, Bree."

And when he said her name, a tiny thrill went through her. She shook herself. "Not that I want you to use my name. I don't want you to talk to me at all, in case I haven't made myself clear."

"As crystal," said Jack, who still looked amused. He turned to Dinah. "And what do you think, Mistress Dinah?"

Dinah giggled, blushing. "It's not 'mistress,' just Dinah."

If Bree hadn't been holding a stack of blankets, she would have grabbed Dinah by the arm and dragged her away from Jack. As it was, Bree did the best she could to insert herself between Jack and Dinah.

Jack's frame was larger than either of the two girls, so the stack of blankets didn't dwarf his body. He looked quite comfortable carrying them. "My apologies, Dinah. Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"I guess not," said Dinah.

Bree shot her a look.

Dinah shrugged. "Well, he seems nice."

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'wolf in sheep's clothing?'" said Bree.

Dinah made a confused face.

Jack laughed again.

Bree stopped in her tracks and turned angrily on Jack. "Give Dinah back the blankets and leave us."

"I've told you that I simply can't do that," said Jack. "Being this close to you is about the most exciting thing that's happened to me in years." He considered. "Maybe my whole life."

Bree set her stack of blankets down and put her hands on her hips. "Now you're mocking me."

Jack set his blankets down and closed the distance between them. "I assure you, I'm not." His voice was midnight and velvet.

She gazed into his eyes, and she felt dizzy.

"Shall I tell you about the kinds of dreams I have of you?"

Her mouth was dry. She couldn't speak. She shook her head. Why in all the world did he have to be some damned close?

"For one thing," he said, his voice dropping even lower in pitch, "you're usually wearing less clothes."

Bree slapped him.

He recoiled, fingers going to his jaw where she'd connected.

Bree wrung out her hand. He had a hard jaw. That had hurt.

"That stung, pigeon." There was reproach in his expression.

"Leave. Me. Alone," said Bree. Her voice was shaking.

"I can't," he said, still fingering the place she'd struck him. "Now that I've seen you, talked to you, something's changed, and I won't be the same. If I left you alone, I think I'd waste away pining for you."

"Pining is all you'll ever do." She clenched her hands into fists. "I'll yell for the unicorns. If they think you're a threat, they can turn you to ash where you stand."

He slowly shook his head. "You don't want me dead, pigeon. You don't want that at all."

She was frightened that he was right. She didn't know this man—this wolf—and yet being near him made her feel things that she'd never felt before. He terrified her, but she was also... intrigued. She hated that. She turned to Dinah. "Pick up the blankets," she snapped.

Dinah gave her a confused look. "Jack was carrying them."

"Not anymore," said Bree. She picked up her own blankets. "We're simply going to ignore him. We're going to ignore him until he goes away." Without waiting to see if Dinah was coming, she stalked off in the direction of Glade and Jonquil.

"Wait!" called Dinah.

Bree didn't.

When she finally reached the unicorns, Dinah was trailing behind, out of breath. Bree looked around for Jack, but he had disappeared again. She was relieved.

Not disappointed. Not disappointed at all.

* * *

Jack watched Bree go off with her unicorns, and his jaw smarted. That was some slap she'd given him.

It had been some years since he'd interacted with human women, and he had forgotten how prim they could be about the suggestion of anything sexual. So different from the witches he served.

Jack hadn't worked so hard to seduce someone in... well, perhaps never. He had to admit that he didn't typically have to work hard with the witches. They needed sex to charge their magic, and his purpose at court was to service them...

Maybe seducing Bree was going to be more of a challenge than he'd thought.

He wandered back into the woods and changed into wolf form. He ran through the trees, over the underbrush, dodging briars and stray branches, leaping and scampering as if he could run away from whatever he was doing.

It was a challenge.

He wasn't holding back because he felt guilty about ravishing this girl. He couldn't allow himself to get attached to her, not the way that Will was attached to his wand witch. That would be disastrous, because Jack didn't have a choice. He had to destroy Bree. He couldn't do anything but that. He had his mother to think about after all.

But he hadn't been lying when he'd told Bree that seeing her had changed something within him.

Before, she had only been a promise, a teasing fantasy, something in a dream that aroused him.

Now...

Well, she was arousing. She was more beautiful and more graceful in real life than in his dreams. He loved to watch her move. She had long, delicate fingers, and he couldn't help imagining them running over his shoulders or through his hair.

Her voice? He loved listening to her talk.

But he hadn't had any idea about how tough she was, how fearless, how resilient. She was the kind of woman who was used to taking care of herself. The way she'd jumped him, taking him down unawares, that showed true strength and capability.

So, he not only wanted her, he respected her. It was something he'd never felt for a woman before. Usually, he felt superior. He turned women on, and they were slaves to their lusts while he was above it all. He felt contempt for their desperate need for pleasure. He felt in control, reined in, buttoned up.

But he was none of those things with this girl. He was the desperate one, and she was intent on getting rid of him.

Possibly she really hated him.

No, she couldn't. She was frightened was all. She was canny enough to realize that he might be a threat. And she was frightened of the way she responded to his overtures because she wanted to remain with the unicorns, and she knew she couldn't become attracted to a man and manage that. Deep down, though, she was affected by him. He could see that in the way she'd spoken to him, in how angry she'd been. The anger wasn't only with him, but with herself.

By the Hallows, he wanted her. He wanted not just to bed her once, but over and over again. The thought of waking next to her every day was bliss.

But he was Jack Bastian, Jack of the Lantern, and he didn't get things like that. He wouldn't wake up with one woman every day. And once he was done with Bree, she'd want nothing to do with him.

Angry, he sent out his shimmering lights to lure someone into his trap. He was hungry, and he would feed, and that would wipe away any thought of her, at least for a while.

Maybe the taste of the meal would sate him, and he could go out in the wake of it and find her, because he wouldn't feel any guilt if the euphoria of the hunt stayed with him long enough. Maybe he could get it all done in one night. The sooner he was back to his life at court, the better, because lingering out here was only making him miserable.

The lights zoomed through the woods as the sun set, alluring bits of magic that always brought him curious humans. He would taste fear tonight. Maybe even flesh if he lured something particularly nasty. There were humans that deserved to die, after all.

But it wasn't anything nasty that got snared in his trap.

Instead, when the woman picked her way through the woods toward him, he recognized her. She was one of the girls who had been with the unicorns. He had seen it all, that the girl had gone off with a lover instead of staying with the unicorns. He even thought he remembered her name. Abigail.

And when she saw him, she wasn't afraid, but aggressive. She had a long, wicked knife and she brandished it above her head. "Stay back, wolf," she said. "All I want is to follow the light out here." She looked around. "Where is it?"

"I put it out," said Jack.

Now, she was frightened. She scrambled away from him, losing her balance and landing on her backside.

"Careful," said Jack. "You wouldn't want to fall on that blade."

"You talk," said Abigail.

"I do," said Jack, coming closer, breathing in her fear.

"You're a werewolf."

"You know Bree."

More waves of fear came off Abigail. "What do you know about Bree?"

"What does Bree like?" said Jack. "If a person wanted to please her, what could he do?"

"I won't tell you anything about her," said Abigail.

Jack snarled, leaping at her. He landed over her body, snapping his teeth closed in front of her face.

She let out a little cry, and the air was full of her fear. Jack could smell the sweet nectar of it. He sighed. "You'll tell me, or I'll do things to you that you won't like very much."

Abigail shook her head.

He reached out with his magic, probing her mind. It was much easier to get inside human heads than witch ones. He peeled back her consciousness and let in a torrent of darkness.

Abigail screamed, then whimpered. She wet herself.

Jack withdrew. "You'll tell me anything I want to know," he said.

"Anything you want," gasped Abigail. "Anything."

* * *

"I don't see why you don't like him," said Dinah.

It was morning, and Bree hadn't slept well. She'd been unable to sleep because she kept having uncomfortable thoughts about Jack, especially about the way his body moved under his clothes. She kept thinking about that, and feeling odd tingles everywhere that were very distracting.

"I thought he was nice." Dinah sat up on her bedroll, stretching and yawning. "He only wanted to help us with the blankets, and he wasn't going to hurt us."

Bree groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes.

"I know what you're going to say," said Dinah. "You're going to say that we can't be sure he wasn't going to hurt us, because he could have been pretending to be nice to gain our trust. But he didn't try to take anything from us, and he didn't pull a weapon, and Jeremiah always told me that there's good in most people, and unless they're pushed to their breaking point, they'll try to show you the good in them. He said people want to get along, not to fight. So, I don't think he wanted to hurt us."

Bree didn't say anything.

"So, anyway, why don't you like him?" said Dinah.

"He's dangerous," said Bree.

"But I just said that I don't think he is."

Bree sat up and stretched. "You wouldn't understand."

"Is it because he's nice looking?"

Bree eyed the younger girl.

"I'm fourteen, not ten," said Dinah. "I notice when boys are nice to look at."

"He's not a boy," said Bree, getting up. She was going to feel horrible all day. She hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep.

Dinah laughed. "Well, he's not a girl."

"I only meant he's a man," said Bree. "And he's dangerous because we don't know what he wants. And Violet told me that men always want something." Typically, according to Violet, what they wanted was sex. Which Jack had heavily implied with that comment about her not wearing clothes.

She felt hot all over for a moment, then cold. Ugh.

Dinah made a face. "Oh. I guess that could be a problem, couldn't it, because of the unicorns?" She considered for a moment. "But you don't like him back, right? So, it's not as if you'd actually do anything with him."

"No," said Bree, kneeling back down to roll up her bedroll. "I wouldn't."

"Okay," said Dinah. "Well, if he shows back up, then, I don't see why we can't let him carry things for us."

Bree rolled her eyes. "The blankets were not exactly heavy, Dinah."

"They weren't easy to carry either," said Dinah. "I'm just saying we can be polite to him."

"No, we can't," said Bree. "That would only encourage him."

"And you don't want that?"

"No," said Bree. "I want him to leave and never come back around here ever again."

"Fine," muttered Dinah.

Bree didn't know how else to respond, and she wanted the conversation over anyway, so she excused herself to go to the stream, wash her face, and do her basic morning wake-up routine. She had soap that she'd scavenged and even some toothpaste and a toothbrush now. Being clean made her feel civilized, even though the unicorns thought it made her smell funny.

When she got back, fresh, clean, and ready to start the day, she noticed that a large group of unicorns was crowded down in one area, just like they had been with Abigail.

Panicked, Bree searched the area for Dinah. Had the girl gone off to be polite to Jack and gotten—

But no, there she was, behind the unicorns, craning her neck to see over them.

What the hell was going on?

Bree took off at a sprint until she closed the distance and was next to Dinah. "What's going on?" she said.

Dinah pointed.

And there was Jack. When he saw Bree, he smiled and gave her a little wave.

Bree was livid. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," said Jack. "The unicorns aren't appreciative."

Some of them were hissing at him.

"What did you tell them about me?" said Jack.

Bree pointed. "You need to turn around and walk away. No one wants you here."

"I actually came to apologize," said Jack. He held up an mp3 player. "Do you like music?"

Bree was taken aback. How did he guess that? She swallowed. "I don't have anywhere to charge it, so—"

"Oh, I've fixed that," said Jack. "Magicked up the battery. It won't run out of juice. It's loaded up with some songs, but if you don't like them, I can find you different ones."

Bree didn't say anything.

"Why don't you at least listen to them?" said Jack, holding it out.

Bree hesitated, and then she pushed herself in between the unicorns, touching their backs and telling them it was okay.

Reluctantly, they parted to let her through.

And then she and Jack were standing only a foot apart, nothing between them. She reached out for the mp3 player.

But he held on, so that they were both touching it. His voice was quiet. "I am sorry. I upset you yesterday, and I don't want to cause you discomfort. I only want to please you."

She licked her lips. "It's okay," she said.

He let go of the mp3 player.

She peered down at it. It was a newer version, something manufactured after the Collision. It had a set of gleaming headphones wrapped around it. She had heard that the witches only ever used their phones for such things these days, and that mp3 players were passe to them. That was why they were easy to scavenge. Bree usually didn't bother with them anymore. But if this one had music and a magic battery, well, she might like having it very much. She smiled at Jack. "Thank you."

He nodded. "It's the least I could do." Then he took a step back. "Well, I hope you enjoy it. Goodbye." He gave her a little wave again, and then turned away and walked off.

Bree was perplexed. He'd really only wanted to give this to her and apologize? He hadn't had an ulterior motive? She backed up too, and the unicorns surrounded her.

* * *

That night, Bree lay on her bedroll with her head next to Dinah. They each had one headphone as they scrolled through the music on the device.

Bree was shocked and stunned that he could have picked songs that she liked so much. He had included some of her favorites, things from the 1980s that were upbeat, like Prince and Wham! and Tears for Fears. Violet used to tease her for listening to that stuff. But Bree had told her that the world was bleak enough as it was. Sometimes, she needed happy music. It gave her hope. It made everything easier to take.

Violet used to tell her that she should never lose that spark.

But Bree guessed that it had been too hard for Violet herself to hold onto a spark. Violet had been assaulted and it had turned her hard. She'd taken the pain and turned it into armor. It meant that Violet could kill if she had to, and that Violet could lie back and let men use her for money. But it meant that the soft parts of Violet were gone. Violet survived, but she didn't have hope.

"Why are you crying?" said Dinah.

Bree wiped at her face. She was lying on her back and her tears were streaming towards her ears. "Just thinking about my sister."

Dinah gave her a hug. "You never talk about Violet."

And then Bree broke down. She sobbed and sobbed.

Dinah pulled her close and stroked her hair.

On the headphones, "Just Like Heaven," by The Cure began to play.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"The thing you brought Virgin Bree made her cry," said Jonquil by way of greeting. He'd tracked the scent of the werewolf through the woods and found him here. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be his den. The wolf had been smart enough to hide his trail to that place, wherever it might be. This was part of the wolf's hunting grounds, though. And from the light hovering overhead, Jonquil was fairly sure the wolf was hunting humans. "What do you want with her?"

The wolf surveyed him, taking Jonquil's measure, as if he were sizing the unicorn up to see how he might fare in a fight.

Which was ridiculous. Werewolves were no match for unicorns. There would be no fight. If Jonquil wanted the wolf dead, he would be. "Answer me, wolf."

"Why do you care about her?" said the wolf. "What is she to you? Before the Collision, unicorns were sometimes trapped by virgins and stuck in the human world."

"And now," said the unicorn, "we keep the virgins, not the other way around."

"You use her for power."

"We protect her."

The wolf raised his muzzle. "Don't pretend that we're any different, unicorn. You keep her enslaved. You don't let her do as she pleases."

"That is not true." Jonquil found himself angrier about the accusation than he would have predicted. "She does choose to be with us. And she can leave if she wants. But she doesn't. She is ours, now, and we are hers."

"I see," said the wolf. "So, you came to tell me that she's spoken for."

"What do you want with her?" Jonquil glared at the wolf. "Are you hunting her? Is she your prey?"

"I'm a wolf. We do hunt."

"You wish to kill her, to consume her."

"No," said the wolf. "There are other things I can feed on."

The unicorn bared his teeth. "You will not take her from us."

"I don't wish to hurt her," said the wolf. "I don't wish to do anything to her that she doesn't want."

"Well, she wants to be left alone," said Jonquil.

"Let's let her decide that, shall we?"

"You made her cry."

"That wasn't my intention," said the wolf. "I had hoped that she would enjoy the gift, that it would make her happy. Are you sure she was crying out of sadness, and not out of some other emotion?"

"What do you mean?"

"Humans," said the wolf, "when they cry, it's not always because they're distressed."

"How would you know this?"

"Because I shift into a form that is similar to a human form, and the witches are much the same as well." The wolf seemed to wince. "That is... I haven't spent much time with the witches, not since I escaped from them."

"The witches have been attacking us," said Jonquil. "Are you aligned with the witches?"

"No," said the wolf. "I am not. I am only interested in Bree, and I mean her no harm."

"She must remain a virgin," said Jonquil. "If you ruin her, I will kill you. Do you understand that?"

The wolf was quiet.

"Do you understand?" growled Jonquil.

"Yes," said the wolf. "I understand."

* * *

"That's purple grass," said Bree, pointing to the wagon that Jack was pulling behind him. It was full of sod and purple grass, which was growing, unlike the dried grass the unicorns had been making do with from the scavenging trip.

"It is," said Jack.

"Where did you get it?" said Bree.

"It does grow in patches here and there," said Jack, who had that amused look on his face that he always seemed to get when he spoke to her. He blinked, and her gaze was drawn to his heavy, dark lashes.

Bree wasn't sure whether she liked the expression or if it fueled her anger. What he said was true enough. The grass did grow in various patches. The unicorns tended to go from patch to patch, migrating over a set route. Bree folded her arms over her chest. "So you dug that up?"

"It's a gift," said Jack, squaring his broad shoulders. "I got the impression yesterday that the unicorns weren't pleased with me."

"Really." Her voice was flat.

"Might have been the hissing," he said. He peered around her. Several unicorns were gathered there, all eyeing Jack warily. "Might have been that one of them came after me last night and threatened my life if I, um, ruined you."

"What?" said Bree.

He cocked his head to one side. "I didn't mean for the music to make you cry. I specifically chose happy songs."

"How do you know...?"

"The unicorn that came to speak to me last night told me. He was furious. He gets very worried about you."

"Jonquil." She sighed. "He threatened to kill you?" Well, that was going a bit too far. Jack was annoying, and he was too forward, and he needed to stop following her around, but he didn't deserve to die.

"He's very protective of you," said Jack, smiling. "And I assured him I wouldn't dream of harming you." His expression softened. "Why were you crying?"

She dropped her arms, and then she didn't know what to do with her hands. "That's..." She shoved her hands in her pockets. "That's none of your business."

"Did my gift not please you?"

"No, it did," she said. "It wasn't the music that made me cry."

"I can get different music if you like," he said.

"No," she said. She turned back to look at the unicorns, but she didn't see Jonquil anywhere. She turned back to Jack. "Thank you for the songs, really. They're exactly what I like. It was kind of you. You're forgiven. And I'll have a talk with Jonquil. He won't kill you, I promise."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like you're dismissing me, pigeon."

She sighed. "Why must you keep calling me that?"

"Because you're adorable, like a little bird," he said.

"You're condescending." She glared at him.

He blew out a noisy breath, considered a moment, and then nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry for calling you adorable. I meant to say something nice, not insult you." He pushed the wagon at her. "Take the grass, then. I'll go."

"You should go," she said. "But thank you... for the grass."

"You're welcome." He handed over the wagon, saluted her, and turned away.

She chewed on her lip, hesitating, and then she called after him. "It would probably be better if you stayed away."

He turned back to look at her. "Would it really?"

An involuntarily flush of warmth passed through her. Something about the way this man looked. His cavalier elegance, his solid body, his dusky skin... If she were to never see him again, she thought she'd be disappointed. So, she didn't say anything.

"I can get more music," he said.

She gripped the handle of the wagon and turned, dragging the purple grass after her. She didn't look back.

* * *

Jack had been able to get the information about the music from Abigail, who'd given up everything he'd needed to know with the right amount of coaxing. And the former virgin wasn't permanently damaged. He'd given her a little fright was all. She'd be fine.

He had really hoped the music was going to work, but Bree wasn't ready yet. Jack could sense that, and he knew that he couldn't push any harder than he already was. But the way she looked at him when they spoke gave him hope. He could see that she wasn't utterly disinterested in him, despite what she might claim.

He spent a day and a night away. He went closer to the city so that he could get a signal on his phone. Out in the wild territories, service was spotty. Many of the old towers from before the Collision had been damaged or weren't serviced. The witches didn't need them, so they weren't a priority. He wanted the phone to download more music for Bree, but when he got close enough for it to work, he was flooded with texts from Zhanna, demanding a status update.

He read them all, but he didn't respond.

He wasn't about to tell her that he'd found the girl or that he was in the process of seducing her. He was obeying her, but he didn't have to do it on her timetable. He did scour the messages for any mention of his mother, but he found nothing. He hoped that she was healing well, and that nothing had been done to her in the time he was away. He was sure that Zhanna would threaten it before carrying anything out.

That frightened him. He'd need to come back closer to the city periodically from now on, just to make sure that there weren't any threats from Zhanna. Because if she didn't hear from him, she might go ahead and take it out on his mother, and that Jack couldn't abide.

The next day, he returned to the spot where the unicorns had been, but they'd moved on, so he shifted, scented out their trail, and followed them. He smelled Bree among them too, and he was stunned at how powerfully he reacted to her scent.

The unicorns hadn't gone far, and he found them within a few hours. He prowled around the edges of the encampment, smelling her—the sweet scent of her soap and a cinnamon musk beneath it that was only her—and smelling the unicorn who'd come to speak to him.

He wasn't worried about the unicorn's threat of killing him. Not because he didn't think that the unicorn was capable of killing him. Jack knew that unicorns were very powerful. But he was sure that he'd be far away before the unicorn would even know what had happened to Bree. Maybe the unicorn would come after him. Jack wasn't sure. But by then, he'd be back with Zhanna, and considering the witches had attacked the unicorns twice now, and the unicorns hadn't retaliated, he hardly thought they'd make a move against the witches now.

Not that Zhanna would protect him or anything. If the unicorns did decide to move against the witches, he'd be as good as dead. If the unicorns asked Zhanna to hand him over, he was sure she would, with no qualms whatsoever.

Whatever the case, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He had his mother's welfare to think of. He had to obey Zhanna, even if it meant the unicorn did kill him after he seduced Bree.

Besides, maybe it would be worth it to have her, even if it did mean death. The dreams he had were more intense, more vivid. But they still brought no satisfaction, and he woke aroused and unsated every night, burning for her.

That night was the same as any other night. He dreamed of Bree atop a black unicorn, a burning sword in her hand, leaping over forests the height of grass blades. Tiny witches scrambled to get away from the pounding black hooves.

She turned to him, and he was just as tall and enormous as she was. She wasn't wearing a shirt, and her bare breasts were pink-tipped and perfect. She blew him a kiss, laughing.

His groin ached.

And he woke.

He was still in wolf form. He preferred to sleep that way out in the woods. Warmer with the fur. It was early morning, bone-colored sky visible through the tangle of leaves overhead. He got to his feet and ambled through the trees until he came to a small brook. He bent to drink.

There was a rustling sound. He lifted his head.

Bree appeared through the trees, heading for the brook, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She was only wearing a form-fitting white tank top and a part of short shorts with a pattern of strawberries on them. Obviously, these were the clothes she slept in. She was carrying a towel and a mesh bag.

Soundlessly, he retreated into the underbrush, out of sight. He could see her, but she couldn't see him.

She yawned again, looking around until she spied a large, flat rock jutting up above the stream. She set down her towel and the mesh bag there. She opened up the bag and began to take out soap and a toothbrush and a comb and other grooming supplies.

Jack's pulse started to pick up speed. She was going to wash herself in this brook. That meant she would remove her clothes, and he would be here—

No. He wasn't going to watch her without her knowing. That was wrong somehow. The thought of it made him feel ashamed, as if he would be stealing from her. He wanted her to show her body to him of her own volition. Then he would be entitled to look at it. But this? Spying on her? It was beneath him.

He would go away, find someplace to shift forms and then wash and dress himself. Then he'd come back to look for her later.

He started to back away, not making a noise.

Through the brush, he could see her.

She reached for her top to pull it over her head.

He had seen her in dreams. Certainly, he was meant to see her. Certainly—

No. He turned away, nose into the woods, and left without looking back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Bree felt wide awake after her dip in the brook. She was dressed now, sitting on a rock as the sun climbed higher into the sky and combing out her hair. She stroked through the tresses, pausing to work through any knots that formed. Violet had always combed her hair every day, saying that men expected their whores to look decent.

Bree hadn't typically fallen suit. First of all, she didn't want to be a whore (and she didn't like it when Violet called herself that) and secondly, combing her hair took time and getting out the knots hurt. She usually did it every other day or sometimes every three days.

But lately, Bree had been doing it each morning, and she wasn't sure why. It probably had something to do with the fact that Jack kept appearing unexpectedly. Not that she cared if her hair looked nice when he was around. Not really. He could think what he liked. Sure, he was always so nicely groomed, and not in a prissy way, like some men, who always seemed shaved and coiffed and stuffed into their clothes. Jack had a wildness to him. His hair hung loose, and he usually had a bit of stubble on his chin, and he looked... well, wolfy somehow, even when he was a man.

Still, he always seemed clean. And his own hair never looked tangled or as though it hadn't been combed in days.

So... she supposed she just wanted to look like his equal, that was all.

Okay, maybe she secretly sort of wanted him to be thinking similarly favorable things about her appearance. At least she didn't want to feel embarrassed when she saw him because her hair looked like a rat had made a nest in it.

So, she combed.

The sun was getting warmer. It felt good against her skin. She felt clean, and she smelled of soap, and her breath was fresh, and everything was rather nice.

A male voice. Clearing his throat right behind her.

She whirled. "Jack!"

Because, of course, it was him. His hair was wet and his white shirt was unbuttoned over his chest, which was wet too. Droplets of water were running over his chest and stomach. He had a little bit of dark hair on his chest and in a line down the middle of his stomach, which was ripply and muscled and gleaming in the morning light.

Bree felt lightheaded. And she couldn't help that her eyes were drawn down by that line of hair. Down over his belly button. Down, down, like an arrow to his... trousers. Where the line of hair disappeared. She wondered if it went all the way to his...

She blushed.

"I'm surprised the unicorns allow you out here all by yourself, as protective of you as they are," he said.

She didn't know what to do with her comb. She didn't want to keep combing her hair while she was talking to him. That seemed like a private thing, not something one did in front of a stranger. But she also didn't want him to think that she'd change her activities just because he was around. So, she continued to comb her hair, dragging it down from the top of her head to the tips of her hair. "The unicorns let me have a bit of privacy. They know I'm not going anywhere."

"Because you belong to them?"

She combed. "What do you mean?"

He stepped closer, running his hands through his wet locks of hair. "That's what the unicorn said to me when we spoke. He said that you were theirs. As if he owned you."

Bree continued to comb, trying to look as though she wasn't affected by that, but truly, she didn't like the sound of it. Still... "Unicorns sometimes have problems translating their thoughts into speech. I assure you, I'm not a prisoner. Or a slave." She squared her shoulders. "Anyway, I talked to him, like I said I would. He told me that he doesn't have any intention of killing you as long as you don't hurt me."

"That's not what he said to me."

"Well, that's what he meant," she said. "Sometimes, he has trouble with human speech."

"It was fairly clear what he meant," said Jack, coming even closer. Now, she could smell him, and he smelled divine. He had a woodsy, wild scent. More water was dripping down his chest from his wet hair. His shirt was getting wet. He peered down at her from underneath his heavy lashes. "He made it very clear that you needed to remain a virgin."

Bree gulped. "You... you shouldn't be out here with me. And you shouldn't... it's not proper to say things like that to me."

"No," agreed Jack, smiling. "I guess it's not. I'm not very proper, pigeon. I'm a wolf."

She licked her lips. "I thought you weren't going to call me that anymore."

"Did I say that?" He raised his eyebrows. "I don't remember ever saying that."

She drew in a breath, and there was a hitch in it.

He took a step backwards.

She was disappointed, and she scolded herself for liking being near him.

"Anyway, you shouldn't worry. I'm not here to ruin you, as your unicorn called it."

"So, why are you here?"

"I want to ask you to take a walk with me," he said.

"A walk?" She didn't believe him.

"I asked before, didn't I?" He smiled at her. He reached down and began buttoning up his shirt. "That's all I want, pigeon. A walk."

She didn't say anything. She was busy watching his chest disappear underneath the white fabric of his shirt.

He buttoned another button. "I brought more music. Walk with me, and I'll give it to you."

"I... I didn't bring the mp3 player with me."

"I have another one." He took it out of his pocket.

She reached for it.

He put it back in his pocket, grinning.

"You're bribing me with music?"

"Walk with me, pigeon," he said, his voice like silk. "I promise not to bite."

She got to her feet, stowing her comb in her bag with her other grooming materials. "Fine. One walk."

* * *

The way she'd been combing her hair was going to haunt him. She was so casually dismissive of him, not even caring that he was watching her do it. And she was so beautiful that way. With her hair wet, curling a little at the ends, her eyes looked so much bigger. They seemed to swallow her face. He wanted to touch her hair. He wanted to kiss it. He wanted to put his fingers under her jaw, right beneath her ear lobe, and run them feathery soft over her neck.

But he didn't touch her. He didn't even stand too close. He practically begged her to walk with him.

And when she agreed, he thought it might be the best moment of his life.

But now they were walking under the dappled light of the sun filtering through the leaves overhead. He knew of a trail, one used by so many different animals that it was wide enough for human use, and he had steered them there. Except she wasn't speaking, and neither was he.

Every time he turned to look at her, the sun caught her skin or her hair, and he felt too dazzled to know what to say. He stared at her, wanting her, and then he found he needed to look away to gather his thoughts.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Jonquil said you used to work with the witches."

He flinched, hoping she hadn't seen. He'd screwed that up a bit, hadn't he? He oughtn't have mentioned the witches when he was talking to the unicorn. But he had done his best to cover things. He hoped he hadn't roused her suspicions. "That's right," he said.

"You didn't tell me that. You made it sound as though you didn't have anything to do with them."

"Well, I don't," he said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. "I hate them. I hate everything they stand for, and they treated me..." He took a breath. This wasn't what he wanted to talk to her about. "I'd rather not speak about the witches."

"Because you're afraid that you'll give something else away?" She peered at him, concerned. "Are you working for them after all? Are you a threat?"

"Because..." He floundered. And then, the truth came out. "When I was a boy, the High Mistress killed my father and put my mother and me in her dungeon. Every day, she came down to the dungeon and took me to my mother's cell, and she would make me hold out my fingers, and she would use magic to make flames and burn them."

Bree recoiled. "What?"

He held up his fingers, showing her the scars. "The High Mistress did it because she thought it was funny, and because she liked inflicting pain, and because she knew it made my mother frantic, not being able to protect her child. My mother knew that I was small enough to get through the bars of the cells if I really worked at it, and she whispered to me that I should get free and run. And I tried and tried, but I kept getting stuck." He laughed bitterly. "I have some scars from that too."

"Jack, that's awful," said Bree, her eyes wide. "The witches are all awful."

"I got out eventually." He didn't seem to be able to stop talking. "But the guard at the door stopped me, and he was a werewolf. I ran from him, and he shifted, and he caught me with his teeth, and I..." He laughed again. "Well, that's how I became a wolf. I was kept prisoner my whole life, tortured by the witches, my mother tortured as well, often in front of me."

"Oh, no," she breathed. "Oh, Jack."

He gulped, stared straight ahead, and somehow found he could lie again. "Eventually, I got away from them. My mother and I both. I found her a nice little cottage in the wild country. But I can't stay with her, because the witches are looking for me. I go to visit when I can, but I don't want to lead them to her. She's very happy now, though. Now, that she's away from them." A lump was forming in his throat. How he wished, frantically wished, his mother was free and in a little cottage in the wilderness.

"I'm glad." Bree put her hand on his arm.

He turned to look at her. For one awful moment, the tears that were forming in his eyes threatened to spill over. But he didn't want to look like a blubbering idiot, so he swallowed them. He gasped, and then he got himself back under control. "So am I," he said in a soft voice.

They walked in silence for a few moments.

He felt like an idiot. This was his chance. He'd got her alone with him willingly, and now he was blowing it. This should have been easy for him. Back at court, he barely had to speak to a woman and she'd be falling into his arms. What was different about this one? What was different about him?

Everything.

Abruptly, she spoke up. "I never knew my mother. She died in the Collision, and I was too young to remember."

"I'm sorry," he said. Instinctively, he reached for her hand. When his fingers brushed hers, she started. But then she relaxed, slid her hand into his. His whole body went tight at the sensation of her skin against his.

She blinked at him shyly. "I had a sister. She raised me. Took care of me. But... she's gone now."

"No," said Jack, squeezing her hand. That was terrible. This girl had known tragedy, then. Perhaps as much tragedy as he had.

"Wolfwraiths." Her voice wasn't strong.

"That's horrible."

She shrugged. "It's the world we live in. It's what the witches wrought. How long were you there before you escaped?"

"Hundreds of years."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Werewolves have a long lifespan, pigeon," he said.

"Like the unicorns," she said. "And the witches too." She pulled her hand away.

He was shocked at how painful it was not to be touching her anymore. "Did I do something to offend you?"

She gazed at him. "It's only... what must you think of me? I'm a child to you. I'm a plaything, aren't I? You're running after me for your amusement. That's all it is."

"No," he said, his voice rumbling. He seized her hand again. "I told you about the dreams, didn't I?"

She snatched her hand back. "Just because you're having inappropriate dreams about—"

"They're more than that," he said. "There's something about you and me. Something meant to be, and—"

"Are you listening to yourself?" She let out a helpless laugh. "You're like one of those horrible men at the outpost taverns with their lines. 'We're meant to be, sugar.' 'Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?' And what's worse is that I'm falling for it. You make me feel..."

"What? What do I make you feel?" He was desperate to know.

She shook her head. She backed away from him. "It doesn't matter. Because it's like Jonquil said. I belong to the unicorns. They need me, and I think the world needs them, because they're the only ones who can stop the witches. I can't leave them, and you said you won't ruin me—"

"You wouldn't be ruined after what I did to you." He stepped closer to her.

"But you want to do it."

"I want..." He stepped even closer. So close that he could pick up a lock of her hair and run it through his thumb and forefinger, and he did. "I want to see you, all of you. I want to touch you. I want to put my lips against your skin."

She shut her eyes, a tremor going through her. "You promised Jonquil you wouldn't hurt me," she whispered.

"Nothing I did would hurt." Now he was caressing her, fingers threading up through her hair to cup her head.

"Why?" she murmured. "Why me?"

"I don't know," he said. "Have you ever heard stories of the black unicorn?"

Her eyes snapped open. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"In the dreams I have—"

"Again with the dreams." She peered into his eyes, questioning him with her expression, as if he was an intriguing puzzle she very much wanted to solve. "I need to get back. The unicorns will be worried." But she didn't make a move away from him.

He moved his fingers against her skin, through her hair, and his gaze zeroed in on her lips, which were delicate and pink.

She drew in a noisy breath, and she tilted her head back, offering her mouth to him.

Now, he told himself. Now, she's yours. Take her. But for some reason, he couldn't make himself move, couldn't put his lips on hers. He even found himself letting his fingers slide away from her skin.

She blinked, confused.

He stepped back. He cleared his throat. "You said you needed to get back."

She cocked her head to one side. "I do."

"Well, perhaps you shouldn't worry the unicorns, pigeon." And then he dug the mp3 player out of his pocket, pressed it into her hand, and fled through the woods as if he were being chased.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Jonquil was standing next to Bree's bedroll, which was rolled up next to the remains of the fire from the night before. "You usually aren't out in the woods for so long in the morning."

"Nowhere," said Bree, who felt flushed and confused. Her body weak and loose, but also tense, and there was something very like an ache in the center of her being. Whatever it was that Jack had started to do to her, she wanted him to finish it, at least her body did. And she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she'd respond to him that way. She barely knew him, and she couldn't trust him.

"Virgin Bree," said Jonquil, "it is impossible to be 'nowhere.'"

She huffed. "He was out there."

"Who was?"

"Jack," she said.

"The werewolf?"

"Yes."

"I thought I had taken care of that problem," muttered Jonquil.

"I thought you agreed you wouldn't kill him."

"As long as he keeps his distance—"

"He didn't do anything," she said quickly. It was suddenly important to keep Jack safe. If Jonquil killed him, she didn't know if she'd recover, and she didn't know if she'd ever forgive Jonquil.

"What was going on out there with him?" Jonquil's voice was imperious. "You need to stay away from the werewolf. He is dangerous."

"I know," said Bree. She sank her hands into her hair. "Violet told me that I couldn't trust any man. She said that men only wanted one thing from a woman, and they'd get it how they could. She said there were three options. Run, fight, or negotiate, and that I should do them in that order. But I used to ask her about our father. I said that all men couldn't be bad. And she said that was before the Collision, that everyone was worse now." Bree shook her head. "Maybe she was right."

"You need to promise me you'll stay away from the werewolf."

"I don't go looking for him, he just... appears."

"When you see him, run. Like your sister said."

"It's only... maybe he's not so bad. He told me the witches tortured him." She still remembered his face twisting at the mention of his mother being hurt, how he had fought tears. He hadn't been making that up, and she was sure of it. His reaction was too naked and raw.

"The witches torture everyone." Jonquil shook his head. "A werewolf has no reason to be interested in a human girl. Unless she's prey. He must be hunting you. It's for sport, Virgin Bree. You're a game to him. He'd say anything to get closer."

She licked her lips. "But I don't think he was trying to manipulate me. He didn't want me to know." She furrowed her brow. "What do you know about the black unicorn?"

Jonquil slowly straightened, his horn pointing at the sky. "Why do you bring that up?"

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I don't know. But he brought it up."

Jonquil sighed. "There hasn't been a black unicorn in a thousand years. They no longer exist."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jack knew that he should have gone after her. She had let him get close. She had let him touch her. A few more well-placed caresses, and he would have had her where he wanted. He would have been able to penetrate her mind, the way he did with the witches whose minds he broke.

He wouldn't break Bree, but he could calm her that way, make her easier to manipulate, soothe any discomfort she might have felt, enhance her pleasure...

It was only that thinking about doing that to her seemed like a violation. Not the parts that made her feel good, maybe, but the parts that overrode her will.

You're not here to start a relationship with the girl, he told himself that night when he was lying in his makeshift den in wolf form. You're not Will. You don't get to have an August Hunter. This is a job for Zhanna, and the longer you stretch it out, the worse it's going to be.

He had to think of his mother. His mother lying in that cell, her body bloody and unresponsive. He had to think of how much worse it would be if he refused Zhanna outright.

Already, the High Mistress was probably getting antsy. He wondered if he should go on a run, back to where he could get service on his phone, see if she'd made any threats.

No, no. He was only looking for excuses, trying to put it all off, because he knew that Bree would hate him afterward. But he had to do this. And, in the end, it wouldn't be that different than what he did at court. She was just another woman like the others, with the same parts. He'd go to her, use his magic to link to her mind, get her drunk on pleasure, and then he'd fuck her.

Because that was what he did.

He was a concubine, after all.

But he felt sick to his stomach when he fell asleep that night, and he didn't dream.

The next day, he watched and he waited. The unicorns went hunting that day. Bree stayed behind with Dinah, but he didn't approach her then. There was no point in it. He wasn't going to seduce her with the other girl there, and all he could accomplish would be more talk. He didn't need to talk to her anymore, didn't need to know how much pain she'd felt in her short life, how many people she'd loved and lost. That only made it more difficult to do what he had to do.

That evening, the unicorns came back with meat. There was a big fire, and the meat was cut and put on spits and roasted.

Bree played music on her mp3 player. She had a set of speakers that she must have scavenged from somewhere, and the sounds of synthesizers and guitars filtered through the forest.

The unicorns ate and frolicked in the dying light. Fireflies flitted in and around the trees, lighting up tiny spots of golden light.

Bree and Dinah danced in a small clearing. Above them, the stars were peeking out.

And Jack walked right into the merriment.

When the song ended and Bree and Dinah collapsed on the ground, both giggling, he approached them and bowed low.

Another song began to play over the speakers.

Jack straightened and held out his hand to Bree. "May I have this dance?"

Bree, who was still smiling, got to her feet, and brushed herself off. She was a little out of breath. "What are you doing here? If Jonquil sees you—"

"I thought you talked to him." He raised his eyebrows. It would have to be quick, this business. He wouldn't even be able to be there when she woke, because he had to run and escape the unicorn. That meant she'd be all alone with it. He felt a sharp pang of regret. There was nothing for it, however. He was going to have her, and that would have to make up for all the feelings of guilt he had.

"He thinks you're hunting me," Bree said, laughing. "Are you going to gulp me down?"

"I don't have to feed on flesh, pigeon." And he reached out and snagged her hand, tugging her close. "I can feed on fear. Or on... pleasure."

She panted lightly, and she was so close now. "He told me to run from you." Her body seemed small and delicate and soft, and he wanted to feel it pressed against him.

He laughed a little. "Maybe you should." But he didn't let go of her hand.

She nodded. "Maybe."

He twirled them both in time to the music.

She laughed. "Jack, I really..."

"Dance first," he whispered. "Then run." He took both of her hands and twined them around his neck.

She let out an audible breath.

He twirled them again.

She laughed again, and she clung to his neck, holding on tight.

He laughed too, wrapping his arms around her waist, crushing her body against his. They were dancing too close now, and the pressure of her against him was arousing him. "By the Hallows," he murmured. "What is it about you...?"

She pulled back, searching his expression for something—what, he didn't know.

He kissed her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Jack's lips were warm and urgent, and Bree liked it. His hands were around her waist, and his body was wrapped around her, and she felt engulfed in him. He seemed enormous and firm and strong. She felt safe and cherished.

His tongue was teasing her, demanding entrance.

She let her lips part, let him in, let him probe and press. His tongue stroked hers, and it was an amazing gush of wondrousness, like bright flowers blooming all at once in some lush garden. She moaned, opening her mouth wider, clinging more tightly to him. She had never kissed like this before, never really kissed a man at all, in fact. She had no idea it would be like this.

The music was still playing in the background, but it seemed as though it was growing fainter. She didn't care. She wasn't paying attention. All she could think of was the sweetness of the kiss and the way her body seemed to be opening up, just like those bright, blooming flowers. Every petal of her was slowly opening, turning towards the sun. And Jack was the sun.

Suddenly, there was something hard at her back.

She opened her eyes to see that she was against a tree, and they were far away from the unicorns and the clearing and Dinah. She couldn't see any of that anymore. They were alone, somewhere in the woods.

Jack gazed at her with half-lidded eyes. "Sorry, pigeon," he muttered. He was busily untucking her shirt from her pants. "I get carried away with you."

"What are you...?"

He put a finger against her lips. "Shh. Don't think."

And then something seemed to wash over her, a pleasant film settled over the world, making everything seem fuzzy and blurred. She sighed.

He rested his forehead against hers, pulling her shirt free. "That's it, pigeon. Relax."

"But..." What was he doing?

He was kissing her again, that was what, and it was just as wonderful as it had been a moment ago. She sighed against his mouth, and she let her fingers dance over his broad shoulders instead of just twining them around his neck. She had a wicked thought, thinking of running her fingers over his chest, over the little line of hair on his stomach. Thinking of that made her whole body clench, and she gasped.

He broke the kiss.

She was confused and annoyed.

But then she realized he was trying to take off her shirt. She shook her head, struggling to pull it down.

He gave her an exasperated look. "Pigeon." He put their foreheads together again.

There was another rush of pleasure, and everything seemed even blurrier and faded around the edges. She felt drunk, like the time she'd scavenged a bottle of wine and drunk it in secret. It had tasted awful but made her feel giggly and stumbly. She furrowed her brow. "What are you doing to me?"

He winced, looking away. "I have to do this," he said in a tight voice. "And you'll like it. I swear, I'll make you like it." He tried again to remove her shirt.

She pushed at him again, but her movement was clumsy. She giggled. Feeling bold, she pointed at him. "No. You first."

He let out a vaguely disbelieving laugh. But he shrugged and then reached back behind his head. He pulled his shirt off with one hand, baring the planes and ripples of his chest to her.

She let out a hissing breath.

He smiled. "You like that, then?" he said in a husky voice.

And she had to touch him, had to put her fingers on those ripples, on that little trail of hair.

He gasped.

She brushed her fingertips over his skin.

His skin puckered into goosebumps. He let out a quiet moan.

She kissed him again.

And when he kissed back, his kisses were fiercer and more urgent than they had been before, and they seemed to light a fire within her. A smoldering line of pleasure was cutting down her body, right to the place where her thighs met, and that part of her was a blossoming flower too, that part of her had never felt so open and loose and heavy.

Now, she wanted his hands on her, and she seized one and guided him inside her shirt.

His fingers grazed her stomach, the bottom of her rib cage. They were traveling higher, higher...

She tensed, wanting him to touch her breasts, needing him to—

But he pulled his hand back. He stopped touching her entirely, in fact. His breath was labored as he gazed at her. "Do you like this? Truly?"

"Yes," she said, reaching for him. But then the pleasant, fuzzy film that had descended over the world was suddenly yanked back, like someone pulling the covers off her when she was trying to sleep late in the morning, and now the world was very, very sharp and cold and dark. She fought for balance, stumbling.

He reached out to steady her.

Oh, he was still so beautiful without his shirt. His muscles gleamed in the moonlight, and his eyes were shadowed, his long lashes like soot against his cheeks. He was shaking. "I can't," he said in a guttural, agonized voice. "The Hallows save me, I can't do this to you."

She still wanted him to kiss her. He was warm, and she felt cold, and when his arms had been around her, she felt protected, and so she reached for him again, and touching his skin was a revelation, because he was soft and firm all at once. "Jack," she breathed.

"Bree," he whispered. He grasped her hand, pulled it away from his skin. "Your unicorn was right," he muttered. "You should run."

She raised her other hand, brushed her fingers against his lips.

He sighed.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again.

He groaned. He kissed her back.

And this kiss was just as delicious, but crisp without that fuzziness in her head. Better, somehow, for the fact it was so in focus.

But he broke the kiss. "Go," he said.

"No," she said. "No, I don't want—"

"You don't know what you want." His voice was rough. "I made it so you couldn't know. This is wrong, and I won't have it wrong between us."

"It's not wrong." She shook her head.

"Go."

"No." She folded her arms over her chest.

"You stupid, stupid girl," he muttered. And it one liquid movement, he pulled off his trousers and his wolf form flowed over him. From head to toe, the fur and claws swept away the skin.

Startled, she backed into the tree.

He reared up on his hind legs, and put a paw on either side of her. He growled.

She flinched, frightened. But suddenly, it was all being sucked out of her—the fear, the desire, the heaviness between her legs, it was all... gone.

I can feed on fear or pleasure, he had said.

He bounded away from her, off into the woods.

She slid down the tree to the forest floor. She was trembling.

* * *

Bree wandered back through the woods, feeling strange and shaky and confused.

Jonquil emerged from the underbrush. He galloped to her. "What happened?" he said, his voice urgent. "I saw him here. I saw you with him, and then you were both gone. I was coming after you. I thought he might—"

"Jonquil," she said. She threw her arms around the unicorn's neck, and she held on as tightly as she could. She could still touch him. He didn't hate the smell of her. She wasn't lost to her unicorns. That was what Jack had tried to do. He'd tried to take her away from her new family. But he'd stopped. For some reason, he'd stopped.

And she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

When he'd sucked away her desires, fed on her pleasure, he'd left her feeling empty. She was exhausted now, hollowed out and wrecked.

"Climb onto my back, Virgin Bree," said Jonquil in a quiet voice.

She did, holding tightly to him.

He started back through the woods back toward their encampment.

But she was asleep before they reached the fire and the music. She didn't know it when Jonquil lay her on her bedroll, or when the other unicorns dragged the blankets up over her body with their teeth, or when they nuzzled her cheek and shoulders.

No, she slept, and at first it was a deep and dreamless sleep, falling into a well of nothingness.

But as the effects of the werewolf's feeding began to fade, her dreams began to form, and they were dreams of darkness and desire.

She dreamed of Jack's flesh, all of it bared to her, even the part between his legs that she had never seen before. She dreamed that she was naked too, and that they were back in the woods, her back against the tree like before. But her skin was bare and the bark bit into her. She didn't mind the sensation, though. She liked that she was pinned there, the tree at her back, Jack's warm body at her front. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, and she was... complete in some way that she didn't quite understand.

Because in the dream, she could see that Jack was—his body was... that part of him was... in her, but she didn't feel anything. All the sensations were cut off, like she'd been doused in cold water, and she longed to feel him.

In her dream, she threw back her head and screamed in frustration. She raked her nails down Jack's back.

And then lightning split the sky, a long, jagged line of brightness. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The earth shook.

A black unicorn was galloping over the hill coming for her, and she was naked and Jack was standing next to her, and now she had feeling in her body. Now, she could feel it all, and it was brutal bliss.

Lightning and thunder again—at the same time, and an echo in her body, a crescendo of perfectness, tumbling again and again. Her body contracted and released, each release more sublime than the last. Until the sky burst out in rain, and she was spent.

And then she woke, and her legs were trembling with tiny electric aftershocks.

She sat up on her bedroll, gasping.

What was happening to her?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Jack had to double back later, because he'd left his clothes behind, and his phone had been in his trouser pocket. When he did, he couldn't help but go close enough to see Bree. She was asleep, tossing and turning as if she was having a bad dream.

He wanted to go and comfort her, but didn't dare. If the unicorn saw him, the creature might kill Jack for what he'd tried to do earlier that night.

What he'd tried to do and failed.

And now... now...

He ran for the city and checked his texts. There was nothing new from Zhanna.

That chilled him. He ran into the city, ran through the streets, ran to the dungeon, where he found his mother, asleep on her bed, her hair splayed out on her thin pillow. The guards wanted to know if he had anything to report to Zhanna. He said he didn't. He left again, roaming through the streets until the sun came up.

He was greeted by Charlie, who was pleased to see him and offered him some of his leftover breakfast. Jack couldn't help but stay long enough to play few games of catch with the child. He needed to know that there was something in him that was pure and good, that there was at least one person in the world that didn't suffer when he came close.

Then he left again, leaving the city and running until he came to Will's cottage in the woods.

There, exhausted, he napped in the afternoon sunlight for hours. When he woke up, he shifted into human form and dressed. He went to Will's door and knocked.

Will opened the door. "Jack," he said in surprise.

"Will," said Jack. "I think I may have just signed my mother's death warrant."

Will raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to come in?"

Jack let out a breath. And then he stepped into the cottage.

* * *

Bree felt ill the next day, almost the way she'd felt the day after scavenging that wine. It wasn't quite so physical, however. It was more an emotional hangover. She felt as if something had changed in her last night, and she wasn't exactly sure what it was, but when she looked out at the unicorns, she felt tired and weary and battered and... old. There was a sour taste in her mouth and her head pounded.

Jonquil fussed over her, saying he'd go and bring her anything she wanted. "Tell me what to bring back from the human outposts," he said. "I'll bring back as much as you need."

"No," she said. "There's nothing."

He had already tried using his horn to heal her, but it had made no difference. "What happened?" he asked for the eighteenth time. "What did that wolf do to you?"

She sighed. She was propped up against a tree trunk at the edge of a patch of purple grass. Dinah was riding on Glade's back on the other side of the grass. Other unicorns were grazing. "Whatever he was going to do, he stopped."

"Good," said Jonquil.

Bree ripped handfuls of regular green grass out of the ground. "I hate him for it. I didn't want him to stop."

Jonquil lay down in front of her, his eyes full of concern. "You don't mean that."

"No," she said, feeling lost. "I don't mean it. I don't want to leave you all. I love the unicorns. I belong with you. I want to stay with you and help you, and I don't see why I'd give it up for one cocky werewolf who practically admitted that he was doing exactly what you said. Hunting me for sport."

"You wouldn't give it up," said Jonquil.

She shook her head. "I had a dream last night. It was about..." She shuddered. "Well, I don't know how to talk about it exactly, but I dreamed of a black unicorn. And I heard a story from a girl that black unicorns are tied to couples. To a man and a woman. And Jack said something about—"

"There's no way a werewolf is ever tied to a black unicorn," said Jonquil. "Besides, I don't think it's that way. I think it's that a black unicorn has two special virgins, a female and a male. They are not a couple, but together, they symbolize sexual potential, and the black unicorn taps into that the same way all unicorns tap into sexual potential."

"Potential," said Bree.

"Yes."

"So, they don't... The female and male virgins, they don't—"

"They're virgins," snapped Jonquil.

Bree swallowed. "It's only that in my dream—"

"Never let that wolf touch you," said Jonquil. "And don't let him tell you nonsense about black unicorns. Didn't I tell you they don't exist?"

"You did," said Bree, and she rested her head against the tree trunk, feeling defeated.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Jack took the dish from August's hands. "Let me help with that."

"Fine," said August, surrendering it and going to the table. "I'm no good with cooking anything, and Will did this."

Jack sniffed the food. It smelled... hot. "Well, that's interesting."

Will snatched the dish from Jack and set it down on the table. "If August could shift and hunt rabbits, none of this would be a problem." He gestured. "Won't you both sit down?"

Jack pulled out a chair and sat at the table. The interior of the cabin was all exposed wood. The walls were wood paneling and the ceiling was wood planks. The floor was hardwood. The table was made of wood as well. He felt a bit like a lumberjack. He wondered how Will was standing it in this place. Jack gestured to the dish. "What, er, is it?"

"Cottage pie," said Will.

"Whatever he makes is usually pretty good," said August, who was already serving herself a big scoop of the stuff, which seemed to have layers of potatoes and layers of meat and vegetables. "Just try it."

Jack shrugged and served himself a bit of the food. The smell was more appetizing now.

"So, you were going to go and make off with the girl's virtue, but you didn't, and now Zhanna is going to hurt your mother?" said August. "Is that about what you've been saying thus far?"

"I don't know about making off with anything," said Jack, glaring at her. "I was supposed to go and fuck the girl, and I don't see why it was a problem, because it's not as if I'm not mounted twenty times a week at court, by skinny and fat witches alike, and half of them I'm supposed to destroy—really destroy—addle their brains. And I do that just fine. But this girl. This damned girl." He sighed. "Bree."

"Oh, that's her name," said August, smiling. "It's a very pretty name."

Jack took a bite of the cottage pie. Hmm. He was pleasantly surprised at how tasty that was. "This isn't half bad, Will," he said around his mouthful.

"Thank you," said Will dryly. "Listen, what do you want us to do? Should we try to organize a rescue mission for your mother?"

Jack ate more cottage pie. "I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea. I've been gone from court for too long, and Zhanna will be suspicious. She'll be watching my mother more closely. I don't think now's the time."

"So, then what are you going to do?"

Jack shook his head. "Find someone else to fuck the girl?" But even as he said it, he knew he didn't mean it. He would literally rip to shreds any man that so much as looked at her.

August snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. You're in love with her."

Jack set down his fork. "Now, that's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Will was grinning at him. "Honestly, I think I'd like to meet this Bree."

"Oh, me too," said August, who was also grinning.

Jack picked up his fork. "You too can smile about it all you like," he growled, "but it doesn't make the situation any easier."

"Typically, if you're in love with someone, you do want to have sex with them though," said August. "So, I'm not sure what's that's all about."

"He didn't want to force her," said Will. "He was being noble."

"She sounded willing to me," said August.

"I linked to her mind and clouded it," said Jack. "It's something I do for witches. Heightens their pleasure but makes them rather vulnerable. She couldn't have consented, not truly."

"Besides, if she's not a virgin, then she's not with the unicorns anymore," said Will, "and it sounds like she's done things with those unicorns that no one's ever done. Unicorns working with humans? Unicorns eating cooked meat? She might be able to convince the unicorns to end their ludicrous truce with the witches."

"Oh," said August, eyes wide. "That's brilliant, isn't it?" She pointed at Jack with her fork. "And then that would solve all your problems. The unicorns can take down Zhanna, and you get your mother back."

"Right," said Will. "So, you just have to keep your hands off Bree and convince her to convince the unicorns."

Jack groaned. "I can't go back there. The unicorns would kill me. And she might... she..." He ate some more cottage pie. "If I'm near her, there's no keeping my hands off her."

"Well, you have to," said Will. "That's all there is to it."

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Zhanna glared at her phone. Another day, and still no word from Jack.

At first, she had peppered him with texts, hoping to get some kind of update from him.

But now, she was beginning to feel worried. She stood at the window in her penthouse apartment, staring out over the city. All of this was hers, and she was the High Mistress of the witches. She shouldn't feel helpless. But damn that Jack of the Lantern, if he didn't always find a way to make her feel exactly that.

He couldn't have run off, not with his mother here. He would come back, if only to try to be near Siena.

He had to come back.

There was a knock at her door.

Zhanna turned. "Come," she called.

The door opened, and one of her wolf concubines came in. His name was Trevor, and he was always very accommodating. She liked him so much better than Jack. Well, she would if it weren't for the fact that Trevor was neither as attractive nor as powerful as her pet dog. Who she was beginning to miss when it came down to it.

"You called for me, High Mistress?" said Trevor.

"I did," said Zhanna. "I have a job for you. I want you to go and find Jack Bastian. He's supposed to be off seducing a unicorn girl, and he's been gone for far too long."

"Of course." Trevor inclined his head. "When I find him, what should I do?"

"Bring him back here immediately," said Zhanna. "I seem to have failed to give him proper motivation to complete the task I gave him."

"Yes, High Mistress."

"You understand, then," said Zhanna. "You'll leave right away?"

"At once," said Trevor.

Zhanna smiled coldly. "Good. Very good." She turned back to the window.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Bree had been combing her hair in the morning every day for four days, and she wasn't sure why she bothered anymore. That morning, in particular, she'd considered skipping the entire ritual. It was overcast and a bit chilly. It was probably going to rain later. There was no reason to go and wash her hair and comb it. The unicorns didn't care what she looked like, and they seemed to prefer her sweat smell to the smell of her soap.

But here she was, shivering on the rock next to the stream, her skin and hair still wet as she dragged the comb through her hair.

Behind her, someone cleared his throat.

She turned and leaped off the rock.

Jack was standing there.

Her heart began to pound. For several moments, she simply stood there, staring at him as if she wasn't sure if he was real. He raised an eyebrow at her, blinking his heavy, dark lashes.

She threw herself at him. She couldn't seem to stop herself. She pressed her body into his and she kissed him.

His arms came around her, crushing her small body against his larger one, lifting her off the ground.

But then the kiss was over, and he set her back down. He gave her his amused, knowing smile. "Miss me, pigeon?"

"I hate you," she said.

He furrowed his brow. "Not the response I was expecting after that greeting."

"You—there's something wrong with you," she said. "Or maybe there's something wrong with me, but it's only wrong with me when it pertains to you, so I think it's got to be your fault somehow. I don't want to leave the unicorns, and I won't. But whenever I see you, all I can think is that maybe it wouldn't be so bad, and that maybe it would be worth it. I could still help the unicorns. But I'd have to stay away from them. They couldn't stand my smell if I weren't—" She let out a growl of frustration. "But that's idiotic, because I barely know you, and you're... you're horrible, and just because you have that little trail of hair on your stomach is no reason for me to lose my head and—"

"Shh." He put his finger against her lips. "You don't have to worry about that anymore."

"What?" She glared at him. "Worry about what? Did you understand anything I said? Because I don't think I did, and I was the one who was saying it. Whenever I'm around you, I feel so confused."

He hung his head, chuckling softly. "Well, that makes two of us." He raised his gaze to hers, and then ran one hand ruefully through his hair. "Perhaps I'd better tell you the truth."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I lied to you, pigeon," he said. "I'm not a lone, wild wolf. I work for the witches."

Her lips parted and she stepped back, shaking her head.

He reached for her hand. "It's not like that. What I told you before about torture is true. My mother is there. The High Mistress wants to hurt the unicorns, and she sent me to take you from them. She threatened my mother if I didn't. I..." He let out a shaky breath. "But I'm not going to do that. I won't touch you, I promise." He retracted his hand.

She licked her lips. "That's... that's a lot to take in, Jack. Is your name really Jack?"

"It is," he said. "Jack Bastian. Jack the Tempter. Jack the Seducer. Jack of the Lantern. At your service." He bowed.

"And you made everything up." She hugged herself. She hadn't thought it possible, but she was even more confused.

"Not everything. The only thing I left out was that—"

"Was that you were trying to hurt me, just like Jonquil said."

"But I couldn't," he said. "I couldn't harm you, because there is something powerful between us—"

"Oh, right," she said. "I'm supposed to believe that." Of course there was the fact that she'd had a dream about him, a dream like the ones he'd said he had. "Did you make up the dreams too?"

"No, the dreams are real," he said. "I've been dreaming of you for a hundred years, Bree."

Her breath caught in her throat. "And the black unicorn?"

"Yes."

"Because I had a dream too. And you and I were..." She swallowed. "Well, it was quite a dream."

He raised his eyebrows. "You mean...?"

She blushed.

He stepped closer. "I think the dreams mean something."

"What?" she said. "That we're both idiots for being attracted to each other when we're on opposite sides?"

"We're not," he said. "On opposite sides, I mean. That's why I'm here. I wouldn't have come back otherwise. I'm here because you have a special influence over the unicorns. We all live under the witches, and they are ruthless and cruel. They need to be stopped, and the unicorns could do it. You could convince the unicorns to fight the witches. And I know things about court. I know the High Mistress's habits and weaknesses. If we all worked together, then maybe we could make a better world. That's why I'm back, pigeon. I need your help. You need mine. Let's work together."

"So, that's why you came back?" she said, feeling oddly disappointed. "Not because you wanted to..." She foundered, blushing again, this time harder. "To finish what we started?"

He didn't respond.

She waited.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "You need to convince the unicorns, and you can't do that if... if you and I... if you aren't a virgin."

Bree's pulse was still racing. She looked at her hands. Turned them over. Inspected her palms.

"It's not that I don't want to... finish... things." His voice was breathy and harsh.

She looked up at him.

"Trust me," he rasped, "I want. I want very, very, very..." He trailed off, sucking in an audible breath.

She peered into his dark eyes and felt as if she was being pulled out into a black sea.

He reached out for her hand.

She let him take it.

He caressed the valley between her thumb and her forefinger.

She felt shivery and too warm. "Yes," she said.

"Yes?" He was confused. "Did I ask a question?"

"I'll help you with the unicorns. I'll work with you to overthrow the witches," she said.

"Good," he said. "Good, that's what I want."

She nodded. "Good."

"Of course," he said, "it would be better if we, uh, kept our distance from each other from now on."

"Yes," she said. "Too tempting otherwise."

"Yes," he said.

They both looked down at their joined hands.

And then Jack let go of her.

She clasped her own hands together. The morning air was cold.

* * *

Don't worry, that's not all...

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