Spell of the Black Unicorn

Chapter 3-2

Zofia's heart went into deep palpitations at seeing Lolly's scowling, menacing face there at the door with a policeman. How many times had she opened the door to this same exact combination since she'd moved in? Ten? Twenty times? Every time it was for some little infraction. Zofia had never met any Ugwump quite like Lolly, not on Euphoria, and not here on First World.

“Now what?” Zofia grumbled as she undid the locks and opened the door.

“Good morning, Zofia—uh—Mrs. Grandier,” Hank Nash, the policeman, said with a smile. It seemed every time Lolly called the police, Nash came. Zofia and Nash had been on a first name basis for a year now. “Sorry to bother you so early, but—”

Loud, incessant barking from behind made him turn to regard the racket. The small white dog in Lolly's generous arms looked like a cloud wrestled from the sky and held under duress.

Nash turned back to Zofia and said, “We got a call about a prowler in the neighborhood, and—”

“She let him into her house!” Lolly said with her usual loud, shrill voice, jowls jiggling.

“Did you even stop to think that maybe I knew him? That maybe he might be a friend or a relative?” Zofia asked, fixing Lolly with a hard glare.

“Who is he, then?” Lolly asked in a scandalized tone.

Nash pivoted and said, “Mrs. Vosserman, if you would just let me do the questioning. As a matter of fact, you don't even need to be here at all.”

Zofia smiled. Nash showed no fear of this insufferable woman.

Coffee-colored eyes blazed up at him. In her sharpest, most self-important tone Lolly said, “I'll have you know, young man, that I'm secretary of the Gladstone Watchers Society, as well as chairperson of the town council—”

“—and I'm paid by the citizens of Gladstone to take care of these matters,” he said with a slight southern drawl. Zofia eyed the g*n in his holster and the handcuffs hanging off his large utility belt. Pistol whipping would be too good for Lolly. She'd probably enjoy the attention.

Lolly's dog barked, and wriggled in her voluminous arms.

Perth and Argyll were at Zofia's feet hissing and barring their teeth at the dog. Fortunately neither Nash, nor Lolly could hear the words which passed between the two Frisians. It would have stood Lolly's springy hair on end.

“Lolly, get your dog out of here. Now!” Zofia said.

“No-no, baby,” Lolly cooed at her dog. Whining shrilly, the dog made a sudden, violent twist and wriggled from her arms like a powder puff with teeth and legs as it lunged itself to the ground. He shot across the front yard with Perth and Argyll in mad pursuit. Lolly chased after them all, yelling at the top of her lungs, “Mr. Tigges, Mr. Tigges! No-no! Bad dog. Bad dog!”

Zofia and Nash stood on her front porch watching the sight of Lolly chugging across the lawn toward her house, while the animals chased each other in circles around her. It was a sight they were used to seeing.

“I never seen cats chase a dog before,” Nash said slightly distracted by the ruckus.

“My cats love to chase and Lolly's dog loves to run away.” For dear life.

“By the way, what do you put on your roses?” Nash asked, admiring the yellow ones on the side of her house. “My wife has the darnedest time getting anything out of ours.” In his thirties, Nash had a wife and three kids. His gentle, quiet demeanor and boyish features would never pull off a tough-cop act. That was why he was good with family and neighbor disputes.

“Cow manure,” she said, folding her arms and leaning onto the door jam.

He nodded. They talked gardening tips for the next fifteen minutes. Nash pulled a hanky out of his back pocket and wiped his sweaty face. “So, who was the guy Lolly saw at your door, if you don't mind my asking?”

“Believe it or not, it was my husband,” Zofia explained.

Nash blinked. “Husband? I thought he was dead.”

“Yeah. Big surprise to me too.” She forced her smile. If Richard Keys hadn't heard about this yet, he surely would as soon as Nash got back to H.Q.

“What exactly is the Watcher Society?” she switched subjects easily.

“Just a vigilant neighborhood watch group,” he said, swatting at a pesky fly. “So, what about you and Richard?” He looked perplexed. “I thought you two were an item.”

“We've broken up.” She bit her lip.

“Not according to what I've heard,” he said.

Dragon snot.

“What exactly did you hear?”

“That you two went on a break to sort things out.” He squinted at her. “I'd heard that he proposed, but you turned him down.”

“Well, yes—”

Nash's radio crackled with an in-coming call. He listened to the dispatch. He reached up, responding into his collar mike, “Nash here.”

The dispatcher's voice sounded garbled to Zofia, but Nash understood it well enough.

“Dang it,” he said, moving off her steps. “Karl Williams' bull just got loose again. I gotta go. Bye Zofia.”

“Bye,” she said, watching Nash climb into his patrol car. Both cats returned and darted inside. Zofia closed the door, irritation bubbling up from her admission to Nash.

She knew Richard would phone her once he got this news. Maybe she should call him instead. Why prolong the inevitable? She'd have to break the news to him, anyway. Hi, Richard. Guess what? A funny thing happened today. My husband just came back from the dead. Literally.

Richard had proposed to her. But, just as he'd told Nash, she had broken it off with him. She didn't know how she'd let herself get involved with an Ugwump on First World, anyway. Well, one thing had led to another, and before she knew it, she was involved.

They had met last fall. Blanche's cheer leading squad had held a bake sale, and Tillie and Zofia had volunteered. The bake sale had been held at the firehouse, which was right next door to the police station. Richard was first to eye the tables of baked goods. Nash and a few other patrolmen were prowling the tables, looking to score some sweets.

Richard Keys stood six-foot-four, and solid as a brick privy, with sandy brown hair, blue eyes, a lopsided grin, and manly dimples. The other women were flirting dangerously with him, trying to interest him in their treats. He hadn't bought a thing, complaining about his weight. Yeah, right. He stopped in front of Zofia's table to eye her sweets.

“Brownies!” he groaned. “I give up. You win.” He bought every last one. After he paid and carried the brownies off, Tillie had informed her that he was divorced with two children, and his ex had custody.

The next day he came back to her table. Wearing Oakley sunglasses and street clothes, she didn't recognize him at first. He dipped his sunglasses down. Their eyes met.

“Oh! Hi,” she said, face warming. “I'll bet you'd like to buy some of my chocolate chip cookies?” She lifted a plate up under his nose.

“Not interested in cookies today,” he said and leaned onto her table. The black leather jacket fit him snug, unzipped to reveal a forest green button shirt, open three buttons down. Precisely where her eyes had ventured before she yanked them back to azure-blue eyes. “I want to ask you out.” The most incredible cologne hit her and she breathed in. She wanted to bathe in it.

She put the plate of cookies down. Weakened by his maleness, she quickly took in the tight-fitting, faded, blue jeans. She had to readjust her gaze upwards again. His eyes claimed hers. She stared into the most incredibly blue eyes she'd ever seen—at least here on First World. “B-because I bake the best brownies?” She melted like a candle next to a forest fire. At thirty-eight, Richard Keys was the best looking, most eligible man in Gladstone. And he was hitting on her. While her heart rattled around in her chest, her stomach did loopty-loops.

“Something like that. You want to go out for pizza tonight?” he asked.

When Zofia paused, Tillie pinched her on the hip. Zofia yelped.

“Great,” Richard said. “What time should I pick you up?”

Zofia couldn't believe he took her yelp to mean 'yes'. But, they went to dinner. She found him to be a perfect gentleman, opening doors and all that. Along about his third beer and her second glass of wine, he told her about his ugly divorce. His wife had cheated on him. Zofia couldn't believe a woman would want more in a man. She had carefully crafted a story about how Dorian had died in a fiery accident to tell him during dinner. Richard murmured soothing words for her loss, touching her hand while he did. He seemed genuine and very nice for an Ugwump.

This date led to another, then another, until they were seeing each other every Friday and Saturday night. They had dated for several weeks and there was no denying they had a strong attraction to one another. But Zofia resisted his invitations to come to his house, afterwards. That is until the first snowfall last December when he'd invited her in for a hot cup of cocoa after sledding in a forest preserve. Hot cocoa sounded wonderful. He knew about her weakness for chocolate—hot or cold; the cad.

They were on the couch, snuggling, when one thing led to another. He kissed her, and she kissed back. Their hands were roaming everywhere under the plaid blanket.

“I want you, Zofia,” Richard said. As if she couldn't tell.

All trembly with desire, her curiosity was getting the best of her. She wondered what it would be like to be intimate with Richard. He was so handsome, so masculine, and so… large. There was a niggle of doubt about going to bed with him that she simply couldn't banish, too. Ugwump men weren't known to be the most ardent of lovers. Nothing like their wizardry counterparts, anyway.

“I've never done it with—uh—another man, before,” she said. “And it's been years.”

“I'll be gentle,” he promised.

Zofia locked her arms around his neck, and Richard carried her off to his bedroom. He placed her on the bed and stretched out alongside her. They didn't do much for a long while but kiss. But soon they were between the sheets, skin to skin. And then they were joined. Oh my wizards! When a wizard made love to a sorceress, usually their combined powers and excitement made them levitate, a few inches or a few feet, off the bed. That was normal and expected. Even though Richard was not a wizard, Zofia could have sworn they had levitated just a tad. Maybe it was all her, but she wanted to believe there might have been something going on. She certainly couldn't lift a man more than twice her weight. Whatever, it had been a magical moment for the both of them. Now that he had done it with her, he would become enchanted by her, because sorceresses have that effect on mortal men. Only he didn't know this.

By the time Zofia had come to her senses months later, it was too late. How could she have gotten herself mixed up with an Ugwump man?

She'd wanted to come clean. “Look, Richard, it's just not going to work. I'm a sorceress. Really!” Instead, she'd told him that she couldn't keep seeing him, and spending the night at his place; what would the neighbors think? What would her children think?

He had taken that all wrong, because two weeks later, he presented her with a ring and proposal of marriage. Stunned, she told him she wasn't ready for that stage. She then told him she needed some time to think things through. That was where they'd left off. They had not seen each other since.

She knew she had no business dating Richard Keys and deceiving him like this. She felt terrible for letting their relationship continue as long as it had. She just couldn't see down-to-earth Richard accepting the fact that she was a sorceress from another planet. At least on Euphoria they accepted magic and sorcery. Here, on First World, if you even mentioned the word 'witchcraft' or 'magic' there would be a blank look followed by smirks and chuckles. She'd watched the re-runs of Bewitched. No way did she want to go through what Samantha Stevens did on a daily bases. It was bad enough she had to do so much creative lying, and do most things in an Ugwump fashion—like walk.

Besides, once Blood was captured and thrown back into Hamparzum's, Zofia and family could return to their world.

Now, Dorian was back, a perfect solution. Not a painless one, but one that would end their relationship once and for all.

Before Zofia could reach for the phone to make a call to Richard, a shrill scream from upstairs made her jump and twirl about.

Blanche's terrified form appeared at the corner of the stairs where it opened out into the foyer.

“A man's in the bathtub!”