21. Emma

TWENTY-ONE

Emma

The werewolf's howl cut through the silence of the night, a mournful sound that seemed to carry a thousand sorrows. It lingered in the air before fading away into a quiet whimper. Below us, the beast looked defeated, exhausted, and in pain.

After a moment of silence, it began to twitch. The stringy hair faded from its body, leaving behind smooth skin and clothes. The pointy ears disappeared, the claws and teeth retracted. He curled up at the bottom of the hole, entirely human now. But who was he?

Slowly, he turned to face us, and I instantly recognized the face. But from where? A memory scratched at the edge of my mind as I surveyed his brown eyes, brown hair, and plain face. This man was utterly forgettable, but I think that’s exactly why I remembered him. It was Mestin Finespike, his form hunched and trembling, his eyes pleading. His broad shoulders heaved, his face damp with the evening dew.

Holy crap. "Mestin, are you okay?" I asked, not sure what else to say.

"I’ve been better." He grunted, attempting to push himself up from the forest floor and failing.

"Um, we didn't expect to see you here," I said.

"Life's full of surprises," Mestin replied, a wry smile on his face.

We stared at Mestin. This was the man who had been with Trudy and Nam, his face etched with concern at the hospital. Now he stood before us, an unexpected ghost in the midst of shadowed trees. A mysterious figure suddenly appearing in this case.

"Help me," Mestin said, his voice strained. He looked worse for the wear, clothes tattered and eyes desperate.

"Help you?" I echoed, disbelief coloring my tone. "Why should we?"

"Please." His hands were outstretched, pleading. He tried yet again to rise and fell miserably.

"Start talking, Finespike,” Beth said. "What's going on?"

"Look, I..." He hesitated, glancing around like he expected the trees to sprout ears and listen. "I need your help."

"Sure, right after you explain what the heck is happening here," I demanded. "You can't just show up and expect?—"

" Please ," he cut in, urgency lacing his words. "Please, I'm in trouble. I’m pretty sure my leg is broken. It’s swollen and painful, and there’s no way I’m going to make it out of these woods without help."

"Talk, then we'll decide if we're helping or not." I crossed my arms. The night felt colder all of a sudden, and I wasn't sure if it was the air or the situation.

I shifted from foot to foot, watching Mestin closely. He was a hard read, his eyes darting as if he expected trouble from every shadow.

"Fine," he muttered finally, scratching at his stubble. "But it’s not that simple.”

"Make it simple,” Daniel said, grumpily.

The werewolf sighed. "See, I had a place here. A house in these woods."

"Here?" I asked, my voice sharp with disbelief.

"Quiet and out of the way," he continued, his gaze dropping to the ground. "But then... the committee, and that other guy, they started squabbling over the land. They found my spot and kicked me out."

"Just like that?"

"Yep. They just booted me out of my home. And for what? So the woods can sit empty?" He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I’ve been hopping around ever since, makeshift shelters and all. Can't afford anything else, not with the way things are."

"Why?" I pressed.

"Let's just say," he huffed a humorless laugh, "if I had a penny for every time I've been booted off somewhere, I'd be rich enough to not worry about the ridiculous housing costs around these parts."

"Right," I said, leveling a skeptical look in his direction. "And we're supposed to feel sorry for you?"

"I didn’t say that." Mestin looked away. "I’m just explaining is all. You were the one who asked."

"Explaining," I echoed, the word tasting bitter. "You've got more explaining to do, Finespike. Explain this then." I gestured toward the hole with the dead unicorn. "Your traps."

Mestin's eyes shifted, guilt flitting across his face before he schooled it into an expression of resignation. He sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was laced with a regret that didn't quite convince.

"I wasn’t aiming for anything... magical." He kicked at a loose stone. "I just set traps for the committee members. That other guy too. I didn’t want them finding me."

"And?" I prompted, arms crossed.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "One day, I heard a sound. Rushed over, thinking I caught one of 'em."

"Caught who?" My patience was thinning.

"One of those assholes. Instead, I found a unicorn." Mestin looked away, his jaw clenched tight. "Dead in my trap."

"You’re the one who's been killing unicorns?" I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it from him.

"It was an accident," he said quickly, too quickly. "I didn’t mean for it to happen. At least the first time…"

"That doesn’t change that it did." I was outwardly calm, but inside, anger churned like a storm.

"Look," he said with an edge, "It was initially an accident, but then I remembered... unicorn horns, they're valuable."

"Valuable enough to..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Cut it off, yeah." He met my gaze now, defiant. "I had to make do. I needed something to get me out of the mess."

"By taking advantage of a dead creature?"

"It wasn’t like I wanted to," Mestin snapped back. "But there's no use crying over spilled magic, is there?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "You're unbelievable."

"Maybe." He shrugged, and in that shrug, I saw the full weight of his opportunism. "But it's done. I can’t undo it."

No, we couldn't undo it. But standing there, staring at Mestin Finespike, I knew we had to do something about it.

Mestin's eyes shifted, darting around as if the shadows of the woods held his secrets. He pulled at the frayed edges of his coat, a nervous tick that didn't go unnoticed.

"Okay, you got the horn. Then what?" I pressed, my voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

He hesitated, then exhaled a heavy breath. "I looked into what those horns were used for," he started, avoiding my eyes. "Turns out, they're not just valuable, they’re lifesaving. The horn, it's got properties. It stops people from turning... into things they're not."

"Shifting?" Daniel's deep voice rumbled with a mix of suspicion and interest.

"Like werewolves," Mestin clarified, his gaze finally settling on Daniel.

"Go on," I urged, my mind racing with possibilities.

"I made a cure," Mestin admitted, almost too casually. "A real one. I figured there'd be folks willing to pay handsomely to avoid becoming... well, you know."

"Monsters," Wade said flatly, and I shot him a warning look.

"Exactly," Mestin agreed. "But then, there were no takers.”

"The two werewolves in town were fine being werewolves and didn’t have enough money for the cure anyway, right?” Daniel asked.

Mestin nodded. "I had to get creative.”

I knew where this was going, and any pity I’d felt for the man faded. He was terrible. The worst of the worst. Karma was going to have a field day with him.

Mestin continued. "I got myself a few of the town's wealthiest. Infected them, then showed up with my miracle cure. For a price, of course. And it worked! I was in business, I just needed to keep coming up with more unicorn horns."

Daniel growled, low in his throat, his bear breaking through.

"Hey, business is business," Mestin said with a shrug that made my blood boil.

"You're playing with lives, "

"What, you’ve never needed money?" Mestin looked away. "And it worked. Till now, anyway."

I watched Mestin's face, trying to gauge whether he was proud or ashamed of the twisted empire he'd built. He caught my gaze but quickly shifted his eyes to a spot beyond me. So, maybe there was something human enough within him to still feel guilt. If only that was enough.

"It was a simple system, really," he said, the words falling like hammers onto an anvil. "Catch unicorns, harvest the horns, make the cure. Then find the right buyers."

"And keep killing unicorns, you mean," I corrected sharply, unable to mask my disgust.

"We’ll, that’s the only way to sustain the supply," Mestin replied, his voice flat. "Demand's high, keeps the money flowing."

"Did you ever think about the unicorns?" Wade took a step forward, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"They’re just animals. Part of nature. The circle of life, or whatever." He shrugged, as if that would lessen his actions.

"Circle of life?" Daniel said, incredulous. "You're ending lives for profit?—"

"I didn’t figure anyone would notice, actually," Mestin admitted with a wry twist of his lips. "Unicorns aren't exactly registering to vote."

"But we noticed." I stared him down again. "We got involved."

Mestin looked at each of us in turn, a flicker of something—regret? Frustration?—crossing his nondescript features.

"Yeah, I didn’t count on that," he muttered. "Didn't think anyone would care enough to stop me."

I stepped closer to Mestin, my boots crunching on the forest floor. "You've committed a terrible crime," I said, my voice steady but firm. "Killing unicorns... that's vile."

"Crime?" he scoffed, his laugh hollow. "This whole world is a crime, lady. I'm just playing the game."

"What game?" I shot back. "You think this is a game?"

"Everything's a game." He looked away.

"Karma doesn't play games," I told him, my tone darkening. "It comes back around. And after what you've done..."

He glanced at me, pain etched across his face. "Karma?" He laughed bitterly. "Karma hit me the moment I set foot in these woods. It's been downhill ever since."

"Downhill doesn't begin to cover it for you," I said. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "You've hurt innocent creatures. You've played with lives for money. That's not something you can just brush off."

"Money..." His eyes were distant. "The pain I'm in, money doesn't touch it." His gaze flicked back to me, desperate. "Help me get out of here. Please."

"You want our help now?" I asked, incredulous.

"Please," he begged, his voice cracking. "It hurts so much, I don't even care anymore. Just get me out."

I hesitated, looking at the broken man before me. The pain in his eyes was real, but so was the horror of what he'd done. I took a deep breath, weighing his plea against the balance of justice and mercy.

We stood there, the tension thick, when a rustling from the trees caught our attention. One by one, they emerged, their coats shimmering under the moonlight. Unicorns. Several of them, stepping into the clearing with an air of majesty that made my breath catch. I glanced at Beth and Wade, their expressions awash with awe.

"Look," Beth whispered. "They've come."

Wade nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped forward, raising his arms as if to embrace the creatures. Then, incredibly, he began to sing, his deep voice carrying a haunting melody that seemed to touch the very essence of the night. It was a song of the sea, of hidden depths and ancient secrets, yet it spoke to the woodland beings before us.

Beth joined in, her voice lighter, weaving around Wade's like vines around a sturdy tree. She sang of laughter and whispers, of the wind dancing through leaves, and the gentle caress of sunlight on the forest floor.

The unicorns gathered closer, their own voices rising in a chorus that wasn't words but pure emotion, thanking Beth and Wade for their kind deeds. I could feel their gratitude, a tangible warmth spreading through the cool night air.

Their music filled the clearing, wrapping around us, lifting us. Sparkles seemed to manifest out of thin air, dancing around us in a whirlwind of light. It was as if the stars themselves had descended to witness this moment, each twinkle a note in the symphony of thanksgiving.

"Beautiful," I murmured, unable to tear my gaze away from the spectacle.

Beth agreed, her eyes brimming with tears of joy.

We stood there, enveloped in the harmony, a testament to a world where wonders never ceased, where every sorrow was met with a moment of such beauty that it could heal the deepest of scars. For a brief time, everything else fell away, and there was only this: unity, peace, and a majestic serenity that would linger in our hearts forever.

Then, the unicorns surrounded the hole that Mestin was in. A white glow came, growing bright and brighter with each second that passed. Mestin began to scream, but I couldn’t see beyond the unicorns. Then, the unicorns sang a final goodbye, weaved with a thank you, and disappeared into the woods.

When we looked into the dark hole, Mestin held up his hands… or what should’ve been his hands. Instead, there were only stumps. The unicorns had, apparently, taken his hands like he’d taken their horns. It seemed only fitting, especially since that would only be the first step of his punishment.

"Help me,” he said.

Beth smiled, a dangerous smile. "The only person who’s going to help you is the sheriff, and he’s going to help you right into a cell.”

Daniel pulled out his phone and stepped away from us, no doubt to call the sheriff, and Wade wrapped Beth in his arms. They stood together, holding one another, and there was such a look of peace on their faces that it took my breath away. Their love of animals went beyond what most people could understand. They really were perfect for each other.

A moment later, Daniel returned. "The sheriff is on his way. I sent our coordinates and let him know what’s going on.”

"Thank you,” I said, then released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. "So, this is over? We’ve found who was killing the unicorns and who infected Nam and the others?”

Beth smiled, looking happy in Wade’s arms. "Yes, it’s done.”

I sagged. "Thank goodness!”

And everyone laughed. But I guess this is just another day for Karma.