Excerpt: Blind Spot

It didn’t stand out, at least not in the sense she would have expected it to. She almost walked right past it without noticing, before realizing that the dingy white thing in the corner of her eye wasn’t just an extension of the gnarled benches. Then Tess stopped, and stared.

Small, dirty white, its back was sloped awkwardly, and she wondered for a moment just how uncomfortable trying to ride it would be, and decided that few maidens would have galloped over streams and hills on this sway-backed creation. It was small, maybe the size of a young pony, and thin, its legs fragile and insubstantial under its equally wispy body, small cloven hooves holding the entire thing up. A lion’s tail snaked around its back legs, feathers dappling it and consolidating at the tip. Its head wasn’t quite equine, more along the line of a deer’s shape, with large golden eyes, and a mane that reached down to its shoulder. But the long, almost excessively long, luminous horn rising from its forehead proclaimed that it wasn’t just a deformed pony, or a sick deer.

Tess stared. “Unicorns don’t exist,” she said blankly, aware of the utter uselessness of such a statement when the creature was standing right in front of her. “You’re probably,” she declared, “one of those new hybrids they’ve been working on.” And then, having nothing more to say, Tess continued to gape.

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to stare?”

It took Tess a moment to realize the unicorn had spoken; for a moment she was convinced it was herself, or some figment of her imagination, but there was no one else there but the unicorn, its large eyes reproachful as it regarded her. Then, just in case she’d been having doubts, it shook its delicate head out. “Besides, you’re not one to talk about scientific biases.”

“I beg your pardon,” Tess blinked a few times to clear her head, and let out a long, somewhat shaky, breath. “I’m just surprised, it’ll be better in a few.”

“I certainly hope so.” The unicorn craned its head to look around its side, twitching its tail thoughtfully. “You humans look so much better when your mouth is closed.”

Tess thoughtfully brought her jaw together with a soft click of teeth. She let out another breath, and raked back her hair. “I think I need to sit down,” she announced, doing just that and falling back into one of the dust-covered benches. The unicorn moved then, a strange shimmering gait that had it one moment across the path, and the next standing just in front of Tess, a puff of its cold, sweet-smelling, breath in her face.

“I hope you’re not inclined to these types of attacks usually,” the unicorn said critically. Now that Tess was beginning to move past the novelty of a unicorn existing and talking, she noticed its voice a little more, a gentle rise and fall of bells that seemed somewhat out of place amid the mismatched plants and flaking paint job of the school outdoors. “It would be rather awkward.”

Bracing her head between her hands, Tess regarded the ground for a moment. She felt faintly light-headed, and drew in a few slow breaths to steady herself. A unicorn, was there, a scrawny, awkward, but infinitely graceful creature. And it didn’t look like the unicorns she’d imagined in her youth, so it wasn’t a hallucination probably.
“I’m sorry,” she said, with a quick smile, as she looked up. “But do you mind if I do something?”

“Don’t push too hard,” the unicorn said, stretching its mouth in what might almost have been called a yawn. Tess started faintly, and then reached out to place a hand against the unicorn’s shoulder. It prickled against her fingertips for a moment, though the unicorn’s hide was perfectly silky and smooth, faintly warm, and it shivered under her touch. Tess drew back her hand, and brought it up to her face; it smelled cold, and sweet, just like the unicorn’s breath.

Well, Tess had never been one for conformation, but a unicorn was still a bit to swallow. Nevertheless there it was, real, and looking at her with expectant eyes. Licking her lips, Tess combed back her hair again, a nervous habit of hers. “So, I guess you’re real.”

“As long as you believe.” It was an odd response, and Tess looked at the unicorn under one raised eyebrow at it.

“As long as I believe?”

“Well, why did you think I was here?” the unicorn gave her a look, “the scenery?”

“Hey,” Tess shrugged, “you act like I’ve met a unicorn before. Maybe you find tan lumps of cement to be attractive.”

It snorted, and flicked her leg with the end of its tail. The spot stung. “I’ll admit I wasn’t entirely sure myself, until I noticed you. It made more sense then, especially after you saw me.”

“I’m glad it makes sense for you,” Tess said, “because it doesn’t for me.”

The unicorn looked at her again. “You’re taking this awfully calmly, I was expecting hysterics.”

“Weren’t you the one who said I shouldn’t be relying on science?” Tess retorted, fingers still tangled in her pale hair. “But stop interrupting and finish your explanation, my lunch is cold, my friend is waiting, and I need to get home and take some serious narcotics.”

“You weren’t going to get lunch anyway, and your friend found something to occupy her.” The unicorn remained perfectly frozen, except its head, which swung from side to side for a moment as if in thought. “However, since you mention it again, apparently you are my believer.”

Tess regarded the unicorn through slanted eyes. “That doesn’t help.”

“You believe,” the unicorn elaborated, “and therefore I am.”

Dimly recalling a story she’d heard of, at one point or another, Tess lifted the other eyebrow. “Peter Pan?”

“Similar,” the unicorn said, “but not exactly. We don’t exactly need someone, but it makes things much easier, especially if we plan to be of any use.”

“Hang on,” Tess held up a hand, “I only see one of you.”

“And?”

“You said we.”

The unicorn looked at her again. “Really, you didn’t think there was just one unicorn, did you?”

“Considering that up till three minutes ago I didn’t think there were any unicorns, that’s pushing it a bit.”

“Use your imagination,” it blew into her face again, the sweet scent momentarily disorienting Tess. “Here there be dragons. People are more accurate than they know they are.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you don’t just mean fire-exhaling lizards with big wings,” Tess said, slowly. “Alright, so there are multiple unicorns.”

“It’s not just unicorns,” it yawned. “All those things you humans abandon, we all stay together, our melting pot, to quote your words.”

“America’s one big melting pot these days, alright,” Tess rolled her eyes and gestured at the sterile building next to them. “So there’s a United Nations of Fantasy Creatures?”

“In a matter of speaking,” the unicorn said. “You call it the blind spot.”