Read Online Stalking the Unicorn: A Fable of Tonight by Mike Resnick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mike Resnick
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shrug.
"What now, John Justin?” asked Mürgenstürm anxiously.
"We keep looking for Larkspur."
"But where? We've lost his trail."
"So much for shortcuts,” said Mallory. “It looks like I'm going to have to do it the hard way."
"The hard way?"
Mallory nodded. “Before I go hunting for Larkspur, I've got to know exactly what I'm hunting for. What does a unicorn look like? What does it eat? Does it help to have a virgin handy? Where are they likely to hide it? What kind of trail does it leave besides unicorn shit? Is there a particular sound or scent it will respond to?"
"How should I know?” asked Mürgenstürm. “My job was just to guard the damned thing, not study it."
"Who would know?"
"I have no idea,” replied the elf as they reached the corner of the main thoroughfare. While throngs of pedestrians passed by and scores of draft animals traversed the street, paying no attention to the traffic lights, Felina began climbing a lamppost in pursuit of a small bat that was fluttering around the light. “I mean, a person who could speak endlessly about the habits and habitats of unicorns is hardly my idea of good company."
"What about a zoologist?” suggested Mallory.
"Sounds good to me,” replied Mürgenstürm. “Do you know any?” Mallory merely glared at him. Suddenly the elf snapped his fingers in triumph. “I've got it!"
"What?"
"The Museum of Natural History! They've got a stuffed unicorn on display there. They're bound to have all kinds of information about them."
"Will it be open?” asked Mallory dubiously.
"I know the night watchman. He'll let us in for a small financial consideration."
"How did a little green wimp like you ever come to spend any time in a museum?"
"There's a gallery there that's been closed for renovation, and the weather being what it is ... ah ... well, you know how these things are ..."
"That's where you take your conquests?” asked Mallory incredulously.
"Sometimes,” acknowledged the elf. “Just those who live in the vicinity. No more than three or four an evening.” He drew himself up to his full, if minimal, height. “And they're not conquests,” he added with dignity.
"They're not?"
"Well, not when I take them there,” said Mürgenstürm. “Only when I leave."
Just then Felina dropped lightly to the ground beside them and delicately wiped a piece of gray fur from her lips.
"I'm surrounded by appetites,” commented Mallory disgustedly. He looked up the broad thoroughfare. “Well, let's be going."
Just then a newsboy, a huge stack of freshly printed papers folded under his arm, walked by.
"Grundy Issues Warning!” he cried, holding a paper above his head with his free hand. “Read all about it! Grundy Issues Warning!"
"See?” said Mallory confidently. “He's so busy with other things he probably hasn't even seen Larkspur since he stole him."
A second newsboy approached them from a different direction.
"Grundy Threatens Mallory!” he hollered. “Extra! Extra! Grundy Threatens Mallory! Props and Midgets Lose Again!"
Mallory walked over to the boy.
"Let me see one of those,” he said, pulling some change out of a pocket.
The newsboy handed him a copy, and Mallory opened it up.
"'Mallory, Go Home While You Still Can!’ Warns Grundy,” he read aloud.
"Does he mean you?” asked Felina.
"I suppose so."
She smiled and rubbed against him. “You're famous!"
Mallory stared at the paper again, then looked at Mürgenstürm. “How the hell did he get a photo of me?” he asked at last.
The little elf shrugged. “He's the Grundy."
Suddenly a small boy wearing an Eastern Union uniform raced up and handed an envelope to Mallory.
"What's this?” asked the detective.
"Telegram, sir."
"You're sure it's for me?"
"You're John Justin Mallory, aren't you?"
Mallory nodded. “How much do I owe you?"
"It's been prepaid."
Mallory flipped him a coin, which the boy caught on the run, then ripped open the envelope.
MALLORY, DO NOT, REPEAT, DO
"What now, John Justin?” asked Mürgenstürm anxiously.
"We keep looking for Larkspur."
"But where? We've lost his trail."
"So much for shortcuts,” said Mallory. “It looks like I'm going to have to do it the hard way."
"The hard way?"
Mallory nodded. “Before I go hunting for Larkspur, I've got to know exactly what I'm hunting for. What does a unicorn look like? What does it eat? Does it help to have a virgin handy? Where are they likely to hide it? What kind of trail does it leave besides unicorn shit? Is there a particular sound or scent it will respond to?"
"How should I know?” asked Mürgenstürm. “My job was just to guard the damned thing, not study it."
"Who would know?"
"I have no idea,” replied the elf as they reached the corner of the main thoroughfare. While throngs of pedestrians passed by and scores of draft animals traversed the street, paying no attention to the traffic lights, Felina began climbing a lamppost in pursuit of a small bat that was fluttering around the light. “I mean, a person who could speak endlessly about the habits and habitats of unicorns is hardly my idea of good company."
"What about a zoologist?” suggested Mallory.
"Sounds good to me,” replied Mürgenstürm. “Do you know any?” Mallory merely glared at him. Suddenly the elf snapped his fingers in triumph. “I've got it!"
"What?"
"The Museum of Natural History! They've got a stuffed unicorn on display there. They're bound to have all kinds of information about them."
"Will it be open?” asked Mallory dubiously.
"I know the night watchman. He'll let us in for a small financial consideration."
"How did a little green wimp like you ever come to spend any time in a museum?"
"There's a gallery there that's been closed for renovation, and the weather being what it is ... ah ... well, you know how these things are ..."
"That's where you take your conquests?” asked Mallory incredulously.
"Sometimes,” acknowledged the elf. “Just those who live in the vicinity. No more than three or four an evening.” He drew himself up to his full, if minimal, height. “And they're not conquests,” he added with dignity.
"They're not?"
"Well, not when I take them there,” said Mürgenstürm. “Only when I leave."
Just then Felina dropped lightly to the ground beside them and delicately wiped a piece of gray fur from her lips.
"I'm surrounded by appetites,” commented Mallory disgustedly. He looked up the broad thoroughfare. “Well, let's be going."
Just then a newsboy, a huge stack of freshly printed papers folded under his arm, walked by.
"Grundy Issues Warning!” he cried, holding a paper above his head with his free hand. “Read all about it! Grundy Issues Warning!"
"See?” said Mallory confidently. “He's so busy with other things he probably hasn't even seen Larkspur since he stole him."
A second newsboy approached them from a different direction.
"Grundy Threatens Mallory!” he hollered. “Extra! Extra! Grundy Threatens Mallory! Props and Midgets Lose Again!"
Mallory walked over to the boy.
"Let me see one of those,” he said, pulling some change out of a pocket.
The newsboy handed him a copy, and Mallory opened it up.
"'Mallory, Go Home While You Still Can!’ Warns Grundy,” he read aloud.
"Does he mean you?” asked Felina.
"I suppose so."
She smiled and rubbed against him. “You're famous!"
Mallory stared at the paper again, then looked at Mürgenstürm. “How the hell did he get a photo of me?” he asked at last.
The little elf shrugged. “He's the Grundy."
Suddenly a small boy wearing an Eastern Union uniform raced up and handed an envelope to Mallory.
"What's this?” asked the detective.
"Telegram, sir."
"You're sure it's for me?"
"You're John Justin Mallory, aren't you?"
Mallory nodded. “How much do I owe you?"
"It's been prepaid."
Mallory flipped him a coin, which the boy caught on the run, then ripped open the envelope.
MALLORY, DO NOT, REPEAT, DO
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