“Old!” Xtelle stomped. “Old! I’ll show you old.”
“Perhaps I could be of assistance.” Than strolled upon the scene. I had forgotten about him. He held up an evidence bag. “Toilet art.”
“It’s string,” I told Xtelle, shifting my grip on the girl. “That’s string. Bondage. It will work.”
“Give it here,” Xtelle demanded.
I glanced back at the man to see if he was paying attention to the unicorn, but he was just as oblivious to what was going on around him as the little girl. He gazed at the vortex, sweat running down the side of his face and neck, pushing hard to get free of Bathin’s grip.
I followed Bathin’s hands up to his arms, the bulge of his biceps under that jacket, the stretch of the shirt across his wide chest, sculpted muscles beneath carving ridges and valleys.
Gods, but I liked the look of him. Right there, on his knees, wrestling a suspect.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, my face hot and prickling. I flicked my gaze to his face and a slow, sex-filled smile curved his mouth.
He squeezed his biceps to give me a show of all that rock-hard muscle, and then he winked.
It hit me like a fizzing bomb, deep in my belly, electric licks of lightning spreading down my arms, my legs, sizzling up my chest.
Who knew a man in a leather jacket physically restraining another man in public was my thing?
Or maybe it was just that knowing smile and the wink to let me know he was on for any fantasy I wanted to dream up.
“That’s good. Now rub it on my horn,” Xtelle said.
Bathin waggled his eyebrows.
I glared at the pink unicorn.
“You’re not supposed to reveal yourself,” I said. “And you’re supposed to be locked up in my house.”
“I got bored and followed you. As a horse. Mostly as a horse.”
“I told you I’d throw you out of Ordinary if you broke the rules.”
“Yes, Myra. Would you like me to leave right now and let you and that idiot deal with the vortex? Because, we wouldn’t want someone who bends the rules—harmlessly, I might add—to actually close this gaping maw into the Underworld and save all those people from turning into frogs, would we?”
I considered the expanse of shore. About twenty people of various sizes, genders, and ages were getting out of cars, dismounting bicycles and hurrying toward us like it was Black Friday prices in the middle of summer break.
Jean was still chasing two frogs who knew exactly when to hop out of her reach while she juggled a shirt full of the little buggers kicking to get free.
Our options were limited. Our options were down to one thing.
The unicorn.
“Do it,” I told Than.
He held the obscene lips out by the tongue and then rubbed the toilet seat cozy over Xtelle’s horn. “Harder,” she demanded.
Bathin snorted, Xtelle shot him a vicious glare.
“Just really give it to me, big boy,” she said to Than. “I can take it.”
Than raised his eyebrows, inhaled and then exhaled as if he were enduring the most tiresome request in his long, long, long life.
Instead of really giving it to the unicorn, he dipped his fingers into his front pocket and withdrew a pocket knife. He neatly sliced through the toilet mouth and tugged on a string.
“Well, if you want to be that way about it,” Xtelle said. “Go ahead and use your little horn.”
