Read Online Stalking the Unicorn: A Fable of Tonight by Mike Resnick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mike Resnick
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NOT GO TO THE MUSEUM OR MAKE ANY OTHER ATTEMPT TO FIND THE UNICORN OR FLYPAPER GILLESPIE STOP YOUR LIFE IS AT RISK STOP THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING STOP
Mallory handed the telegram to Mürgenstürm, who turned almost white as he read it. A few seconds later it dropped from his trembling fingers and fell to the wet sidewalk.
"We decided to go to the museum less than two minutes ago,” said Mallory.
Mürgenstürm gulped. “I know."
"Even if we were wired for sound, it takes longer than that to write and deliver a telegram."
"Obviously not for the Grundy,” said Mürgenstürm in a quavering voice.
"I thought you told me he didn't have any magical powers."
"That's absolutely right, John Justin. Magic doesn't work, and I've always held that it's ridiculous for anyone in this enlightened day and age to believe otherwise."
"That how do you explain the telegram?” demanded Mallory.
Mürgenstürm smiled a sickly smile. “Maybe I was wrong."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 4
10:22 PM-11:20 PM
Mallory looked around, studying the various stores.
"What are you looking for, John Justin?” asked Mürgenstürm. “I thought we were going to the museum."
"First things first,” said Mallory. “Where can I find a gun shop?"
"There's one on the next block,” said Mürgenstürm. “But I thought you never carried a weapon."
"I was never threatened by a demon before,” said Mallory, heading off in the direction the elf had indicated. “Will it be open on New Year's Eve?"
"Why not?” responded Mürgenstürm. “More people are shot on New Year's Eve than any other night of the year."
They reached the store in another minute, and Mallory turned to the elf. “I think one shopping binge a night is enough for Felina. Why don't you stay out here and make sure that she doesn't wander off?"
"Why bother?” asked Mürgenstürm. “She's obviously no longer any use to us as a tracker."
"Because I have a feeling that we're going to need all the help we can get."
"Even incompetent help?"
"You can't always choose,” replied Mallory. “Find me someone competent and we'll talk about leaving her behind."
"You're the boss,” said Mürgenstürm with a shrug.
"We'll get along fine as long as we all remember that,” said Mallory, and entered the store alone.
There were a number of customers inspecting the various weapons. A trio of uniformed military men seemed to be comparing notes on rapid-action repeating rifles; a huge, bearded warrior dressed in furs and a metal skullcap was hefting a number of battle-axes; a chalk-white woman with long black hair and high, arching eyebrows was holding an ornate dagger, striking assorted dramatic poses in front of a mirror; another woman, complaining about her husband in a loud voice, kept sending a clerk back for larger and larger handguns; a Gnome of the Subway, looking apprehensively at the doorway every few seconds, was examining various types of ammunition; and perhaps a dozen other customers of varying sizes and species were simply browsing aimlessly.
Mallory stopped at a display case of pistols, then wandered over to a wall that held a number of tribal spears in small metal clamps. He continued browsing, discovering a number of weapons that made absolutely no sense to him. Finally he walked up to the main counter.
"May I help you, sir?” asked a slight, balding man with a drooping moustache.
"I hope so,” replied Mallory. “What kind of gun will stop a leprechaun?"
"Leprechauns?” said the man with a pleased smile. “Ah, there's nothing quite like hunting leprechauns in the rain! How many of the little beggars do you plan to blow away, sir?"
"Just one."
The man nodded sympathetically. “They're getting harder to find every year. Not like the good old days, eh?"
"I guess not."
"How much of a sporting chance do you want to give him?"
"None,” said Mallory.
"Quite right, sir,” said the salesman, trying unsuccessfully to hide his disapproval. “I assume your
Mallory handed the telegram to Mürgenstürm, who turned almost white as he read it. A few seconds later it dropped from his trembling fingers and fell to the wet sidewalk.
"We decided to go to the museum less than two minutes ago,” said Mallory.
Mürgenstürm gulped. “I know."
"Even if we were wired for sound, it takes longer than that to write and deliver a telegram."
"Obviously not for the Grundy,” said Mürgenstürm in a quavering voice.
"I thought you told me he didn't have any magical powers."
"That's absolutely right, John Justin. Magic doesn't work, and I've always held that it's ridiculous for anyone in this enlightened day and age to believe otherwise."
"That how do you explain the telegram?” demanded Mallory.
Mürgenstürm smiled a sickly smile. “Maybe I was wrong."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 4
10:22 PM-11:20 PM
Mallory looked around, studying the various stores.
"What are you looking for, John Justin?” asked Mürgenstürm. “I thought we were going to the museum."
"First things first,” said Mallory. “Where can I find a gun shop?"
"There's one on the next block,” said Mürgenstürm. “But I thought you never carried a weapon."
"I was never threatened by a demon before,” said Mallory, heading off in the direction the elf had indicated. “Will it be open on New Year's Eve?"
"Why not?” responded Mürgenstürm. “More people are shot on New Year's Eve than any other night of the year."
They reached the store in another minute, and Mallory turned to the elf. “I think one shopping binge a night is enough for Felina. Why don't you stay out here and make sure that she doesn't wander off?"
"Why bother?” asked Mürgenstürm. “She's obviously no longer any use to us as a tracker."
"Because I have a feeling that we're going to need all the help we can get."
"Even incompetent help?"
"You can't always choose,” replied Mallory. “Find me someone competent and we'll talk about leaving her behind."
"You're the boss,” said Mürgenstürm with a shrug.
"We'll get along fine as long as we all remember that,” said Mallory, and entered the store alone.
There were a number of customers inspecting the various weapons. A trio of uniformed military men seemed to be comparing notes on rapid-action repeating rifles; a huge, bearded warrior dressed in furs and a metal skullcap was hefting a number of battle-axes; a chalk-white woman with long black hair and high, arching eyebrows was holding an ornate dagger, striking assorted dramatic poses in front of a mirror; another woman, complaining about her husband in a loud voice, kept sending a clerk back for larger and larger handguns; a Gnome of the Subway, looking apprehensively at the doorway every few seconds, was examining various types of ammunition; and perhaps a dozen other customers of varying sizes and species were simply browsing aimlessly.
Mallory stopped at a display case of pistols, then wandered over to a wall that held a number of tribal spears in small metal clamps. He continued browsing, discovering a number of weapons that made absolutely no sense to him. Finally he walked up to the main counter.
"May I help you, sir?” asked a slight, balding man with a drooping moustache.
"I hope so,” replied Mallory. “What kind of gun will stop a leprechaun?"
"Leprechauns?” said the man with a pleased smile. “Ah, there's nothing quite like hunting leprechauns in the rain! How many of the little beggars do you plan to blow away, sir?"
"Just one."
The man nodded sympathetically. “They're getting harder to find every year. Not like the good old days, eh?"
"I guess not."
"How much of a sporting chance do you want to give him?"
"None,” said Mallory.
"Quite right, sir,” said the salesman, trying unsuccessfully to hide his disapproval. “I assume your
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