Evan covered the distance between the rolling bus and the center of Manhattan as efficiently as he could. It was a terrible waste of energy, but he could reclaim it in the presence of the last unicorn and more…and if he didn't make it in time to save that one…he knew there was one unicorn more. And that unicorn was, for the time being…safe.

            Morning was dawning in full over New York City. Central Park was likely to be teeming with joggers and dog-walkers at this hour; businessmen on park benches with their cups of gourmet coffee and their wireless laptops. Bums wrapped in patched thrift store overcoats and newspapers. Hunters, a demon, and one last cloven-hoofed purveyor of the Light.

            Sam only said there was one hunter. The Adept comforted himself as he shot between mirrored glass buildings and at last the avenue funneled him out over Central Park itself. The singular patch of lush, forested green stuck out like an oasis in a desert of metal, glass, and concrete. The city already shimmered with heat as the summer morning light played over a humid jungle of skyscrapers. Overlaying the miasma of too many people, exhaust, and garbage was the even more sickening stench of Dark. It lay over the air on the verges of the park, held at bay by a weakening circle of goodwill. The taste of it left a tang of blood and the dank burn of ancient evil in the back of his throat. Even the Adept's astral form could sense the nastiness that lay in wait, like a coiled panther, and when he took solid form on the center courtyard of Castle Belvedere, he could feel it with ever nerve of his body.

            The demon's presence was like the scent of a rotting carcass. It masked any other presence, but to Evan's best guess, there was only one hunter, just as Sam had said. He sent one lingering tendril of thought back Roland's way, and offered a prayer that the Bard would reach them in time.

            The castle caught the razor edges of the sunlight as it peeped over the trees and warmed it to a dull glow. Despite himself, Evan smiled. At least the demon hadn't reached here yet. The central courtyard of the park was lush and green and pure, and the trees surrounding it obviously tended by the otherworldly good nature of the unicorns. This was their sacred circle. But he could feel the hems of it fraying; slowly crumbling to the Dark as the numbers dwindled small. Still…the mark of the unicorns was here, and Evan felt his expended power returning, along with the beast's gratitude and love. She knew he was here. She felt him, and she was glad he was here.

            And then…she was not. A shock of surprise that buzzed like the sting of a battery, and she faded, taking the safe haven of the castle with her.

            Evan cried out sharply at her passing, tears flooding his cheeks in the wake of her despair.

            He had only a few precious seconds to register what had happened before movement at the corner of his vision called his attention to the twang of a crossbow loosing, and the thwip of a shaft's flight, and the heavy, wet thud of a bolt plunging into his hip.

* * *

            Roland charged down the avenue, running at a clip that made every eye follow him, searching for a snatched purse dangling from his person. After the bus had been jammed in traffic in a tunnel for well over fifteen minutes, Roland gathered up Patience, Pasha in the sack, and abandoned his duffel as he stormed to the front of the bus and demanded to be let off.

            The door opened, spewing him onto the sidewalk in the near dark. How the hell am I supposed to carry all this? The Bard thought to himself desperately. He shortened the adjustable strap on Patience's case until it was painfully tight, and slung it around his shoulder and chest. She jammed against his back, unmoving. When he tried to throw Pasha's sack over his shoulder, the cat hissed and demanded release. When, in eventuality, he was forced to do just that and abandon her bag as well, she landed on the sidewalk with a soft skitter of paws and waited, mewing at him urgently. The pair of them tore off down the tunnel, leaving the bus behind.

* * *

            He screamed. And when the barb's poison began to throb and burn, his screams turned to howls. And when a darkening languor overtook him, he could not even manage that. The Adept sank to earth, Light oozing from the wound.

She was beautiful by any common standard, but the Dark that surrounded her made what should have been ravishing into something extremely repulsive. Her garb from head to foot was black, in various thicknesses of soft leathers. Her eyes bore an exotic slant, and with a startling nearness to Daru's, the iris was as dark as the pupil, giving her an almost animal kind of charm. Her skin, ironically, was warm gold, almost that of Evan's, though his was quickly paling and fading in the pallor of oncoming death. Her hair fell in a single, living sheet of stark black to her shoulders. She lowered her crossbow with a curt nod to a job well-done.

A slender hand brushed the warm curve of his hip, slid around the shaft of the bolt, and tore it free with callous disregard. Evan could do no more than shudder, though deep within, he screamed.

The raven-haired woman standing over him straightened, and examined the needle tip of her weapon. The metal was smooth and unmarred by its use, and with a self-satisfied smile, she slipped it into the quiver at her back. Quiver, arrow, and crossbow disappeared as one.

"Would you dare do battle with me, Adept?" Purred a familiar voice. The woman stepped back, and in her place came a figure of the same hideous, twisted beauty. She was lush, and pretty, and the innocent freckles of her nose played havoc with Evan's senses.

Rebecca…

The demon smiled.

* * *

            He found a subway station, and grabbed the first train that stopped at Central Park. Thank God that the tourists ran this town…there was an express right to that part of the island. The car was mostly deserted at this time of morning, though a few members of the working class joined him in business suits and skirts. He felt very odd and conspicuous in his jeans and tee-shirt, but he supposed it could always have been worse. After all, the last time he'd saved the world, it'd been in black silk and velvet.

            For the greater portion of the trip, Pasha ran at his side. But now, the cat made a pale smudge of chalky white in front of him under the slowly defining shadows of the trees. She darted up the stairs to the sidewalk, leaving him no choice but to follow. The trees were old here, lining the sidewalk to either side, great thick branches looming in a tangled arch overhead. Roland could see squirrels scampering along the ground here, and See the not-squirrels…the pixies, the faeries, and the strange people that defied description all hurrying along the branches above him. They seemed to be headed in one direction – the one he and Pasha flew along. That in itself worried him, and the Bard redoubled his speed. There was no way in the world he'd be able to talk when he got there, much less sing…but it didn't seem that terribly important.

            The western side of the park seemed oddly deserted. Strange, Roland gave the situation a particle of thought, but was at least grateful for the lack of curious or suspicious glances given to a running man with a guitar strapped to his back. He didn't have much time to ponder the lack of people, however, as soon enough the haven of trees opened up to the sky, spilling him onto a huge round courtyard, adjacent to a small lake and of presided over by the yellow-gold bulk of Belvedere Castle.

            And on the lawn was…

            Oh, God…Evan…

            "Get away from him!" Roland screamed at the two women standing over him, stumbling to a juddering halt as the smaller tossed dark brown hair from her face and appraised him with cold, velvet, calculating eyes.

            The second regarded him just as coolly, and a crossbow materialized in the cradle of her arms. He gasped. She? She was the hunter? "Leave him alone!" He cried again, more a reflex from disbelief than actual confidence that they would obey.

            The smaller woman touched the raven-haired huntress's hip, and after a startled glance down, the other obeyed, stepping away from Evan's fading, crumpled body. Roland was on him before he knew what he was doing, fallen to his knees beside the Adept's still form.

            "It's too late," A heart-wrenchingly familiar voice said pleasantly, "he's almost dead. And my huntress killed the last unicorn." Roland could almost feel the other's smile, and his head shot up, prepared to make some sort of stinging, noble retort. The words died on his suddenly dry tongue as he saw the frank, honest dark eyes of a little girl. A young woman who, for all that her intelligence was that of a precocious ten-year-old, had clarity and kindness and a charm that defined description. He felt the heat of anger rising, bile touching the back of his tongue as he stared. On Evan's shallowly moving chest, his hands curled into fists. In another minute…in another second…

            "Stop using Rebecca, you BASTARD!" Roland flung himself at the demon that callously raped his memories of the Goddess-vessel who'd stolen his heart and Evan's so long ago. He pummeled with fists that were tired of playing music simply to dispel the Dark. He struck with feet that were exhausted and sore from running. His lungs burned. His eyes burned. Roland was a force to be reckoned with, and damn anyone who got in his path. And all he wanted was to end it. The deep ache of loss burned far greater than any anger.

            The Darkness smiled again, and with an easy backhand, flung him meters away to crash into the wall of Belvedere. Varnished shards of wood crashed and dug into his back.

Oh…God…Patience…

The back of his head hit the stone, and colors painted his eyelids. Darkness fuzzed in and out of the edges of his vision. He staggered, and slid down the wall to land in a boneless heap as vaguely, he heard the shards of Patience grating and splintering behind him. If this was what death was like, he wasn't ready to get used to it…but despite the summer heat, he was so cold…

A soft horse's whicker sounded from nowhere, and a flash of brilliance dazzled his already half-lidded vision. He didn't want to get up…he couldn't…nothing would work, and it felt like life was draining slowly sideways out of him. The side of his head felt warm. The warmth crept down to his jaw, and dripped onto his shirt. Blood.

The demon and the huntress screamed in denial, and then with agony. Roland's eyes drifted closed.

Maybe it was finally over.

Maybe he could go to sleep and wake up in his own bed in Uncle Tony's basement and all seven years of madness would only be a terrifying, wonderful dream.

Maybe…

Hot, moist breath steamed against Roland's cheek, and a warm tongue swiped the blood on his temple. He felt the needle-sharp tip of something hard and hot press against the center of his forehead, and suddenly he was burning too, almost enough to cry out in pain…but…but not quite.

Slowly, the warmth drained out of him; spread over his skin and dissipated, leaving him whole.

:I am sorry,: said a voice within his head, as delicately and softly as the tick of rose petals on a marble floor, :but there is nothing that I can do for your instrument.:

Roland opened his eyes, and found himself falling into a liquid, limpid yellow-orange gaze, deep-set like sunstones in a pale white face. The face was thin, small and delicate as a flower, with a crystal-spiraled horn topping its brow. He stared into the face of glory. Of a mythological creature that took his breath away with her beauty.

A…unicorn…?

:Oh, aye, that,: the voice spoke again, disturbing nothing as it did so, :I most certainly am a unicorn. Though you know me better as a cat. My name, dear Bard, is Pasha.:

"Pasha…?" What? How…? Roland repeated the cat's….unicorn's…name unevenly, mind reeling with the sudden, unexpected paradigm shift. But within a breath, everything snapped together – or rather, cobbled together from sheer need – and he got slowly to his feet. And sobbed as realization came rushing back. He started past her. "Evan…oh, damn…Evan…"

:I have already cared for Evan.: The voice…the unicorn?...said comfortingly. :Look.:

And he looked, in the direction her delicate nose gestured. The Adept was on his feet, a saber of light clenched between his palms. The hot, airless summer morning suddenly contained something new.

Hope.

The demon, having panicked, threw itself like a bird against the edges of the courtyard sanctuary. Too late. With Pasha's appearance, the circle of protection rose again, and Evan's opponent found itself trapped within, rebounded off the edges like a rubber ball with a cry of pain.

            But nevertheless…it was still Rebecca. Evan knew for a fact that those sweet features were false, but he couldn't bring himself to strike out at her. The demon righted itself, turned, noted Evan's flummoxed expression, Rebecca's full, inviting lips turned up in an out-of-character smirk before she leapt at Evan, shedding the guise and returning to full form split seconds before landing on the Adept.

            It never got the chance. Suddenly a wall of white passed between Evan's stunned blue eyes and the lunging form of the demon. Dainty, cloven silver forehooves left the ground as Pasha smote the Dark creature a hard blow, enough to send it rolling backward. But for all its mewlings, it still bore the control and the sense of self-preservation to return to Rebecca's form, pulled out of Evan's memory a few days before during their first confrontation. It was good to see, at least, that in the presence of the unicorn, the demon's glamourie was of no use.

            Pasha dove after it, or tried to, but the Adept lay a hand on her shoulder and she halted. "Do not kill it, lady. That would do more damage to you than good. Your purity…"

            She snorted, and to Roland's view, gave Evan a disbelieving look. Evan simply smiled and stroked the smooth white of her pelt. "I am here to protect you."

            But while they stood, from the corner of Roland's eye, he caught the glimmer of a metal bolt nocking to a taut, glistening black crossbow. The point, shining malevolently in the early morning light, lay trained on Pasha's heart. For she truly was the last unicorn.

It was then that the Bard remembered why he was there in the first place. But…Patience…she lay in splinters at the foot of the castle…

            With nothing but himself, Roland leaped at the huntress, leaning hard over as he'd done in college rugby, and bulldozed the woman's waist with his shoulder. She spun, the bolt twanged wildly off into the darkness, and the two of them tumbled to the earth. The huntress struggled beneath him, but he held her fast, as Evan and Pasha's stalemate with the demon continued.

            Roland sought frantically for a song, pulse fluttering wildly like a trapped bird in his throat. Could he sing? Even without Patience? His throat…his breath…did it matter? Beneath him, the huntress tried to flip him over, and unthinking, he shoved his hand down onto her throat. She gasped, and he squeezed, and then, realizing what was about to happen to her, the woman began thrashing wildly. Her body was slick leather in his hands, impossible to hold to.

            Beyond them, the demon-Rebecca conjured a sword and leaped at the Adept. Evan drove it off, blinding it momentarily with the brilliance of his saber. But they were wasting precious time and energy…something had to be done!

            :I can finish this!: Pasha crowed, and everyone in Manhattan looked up, searching for an unseen speaker. Morning was filtering over into late morning, and the heat intensified. Roland felt his palms growing slick, which made his wriggling quarry even harder to hold onto. She slipped from his grasp, rolled to her feet, and had her crossbow out in a matter of seconds. The Bard lunged after her.

            The string clicked back.

            "Tell me what to do, lady!" Evan howled, fending off another blow.

            A song snapped into Roland's head and thrummed with rightness, even while his body arced midair, aimed at the huntress.

            :Flare, flare when I tell you!: Pasha demanded shortly, and dropped her entire focus like a weight of lead on the demon. It screamed, and the false image of Rebecca clothing it flickered uncertainly.

            A bolt nocked home.

The huntress paid Roland's movements no heed, sighting along her arm at the heart of the unicorn, a quivering white shoulder, just at the meeting of joint and barrel. She had failed her master once before…she would not fail again! Her finger eased onto the trigger…brushed against it…pulled…

A broad hand closed over her wrist, jerking it down.

The bolt thudded into the dirt.

Lyrics flooded Roland's mouth, and with the huntress clasped inescapably against his chest, he paid an ear to America and sang her The Last Unicorn. He showed her what she was doing, sculpted back into shape that which the demon had twisted. She relaxed against him with a guttural moan.

He sang the beauty of the unicorns to her, how such creatures should be loved and protected, and how no matter what she had done, if there was goodness in her, they would always forgive her. Roland showed her the magic of the creatures she had hunted into almost extinction. He returned to her the innocence that the demon stripped away.

He left her the memories of what she had done.

She turned and fell into his arms, sobbing.

:NOW!:

The word rang in Roland's head like a thunderclap. Evan's brilliance was so great that the Bard shielded his eyes from it, and still could see a vaguely man-shaped image with great wings stretching to heaven burned onto his retinas.

There was a scream, bitten off halfway through, and after that, a childish giggle.

The demon disintegrated like so much sugar in the rain, and melted into a puddle of shadow on the grass. And soon, there was nothing left.

It was over.

Roland heard the soft footsteps of man and beast heading his way, and felt a warm hand on his shoulder. A velvet nose rubbed against his cheek, and his vision cleared. Worried blue eyes, placid yellow-orange, and soulful black all looked back at him where he stood.

            "I'm all right," he smiled, and felt the triple-warmth of their smiles in return. "Is it over? How did you…?"

            "It's over," Evan reassured him, and slipped an arm around his waist, closing the other around the huntress to help Roland support her.

:I opened the demon's mind to the Light. When Evan showed it his glory, it was pulled over into the Light: Pasha explained, :It was a piece of the Dark, and because it became something it could not be…it destroyed itself. Its hunters are no more. We are safe.:

The Adept gazed up at the unicorn with an expression of profound shame. "But I am so sorry, lady. I…we should have moved faster, but I thought that with you in our company, we could take our time…"

            Roland blinked. Evan knew? Evan knew that Pasha was a unicorn the entire time? Roland shot a glare at the Adept over the huntress's head. "Why didn't you tell me she was a unicorn?"

            :It is all right…both of you,: The unicorn replied, and lowered her muzzle to nose the dark, slick hair of the young woman still attached to Roland. As the huntress turned in Roland's arms, she looked into a pair of beautiful yellow-orange eyes…eyes full of the same forgiveness that Roland sang to her. She transferred her grip to Pasha's neck, clinging like a child. :In days, there will be twins to fill this gap. And many more to come. The Light is still strong here. They will grow quickly.:

            The unicorn reached out to tenderly caress Evan's forehead. :You have been among the humans for too long, Adept. You blame yourself for far too much.: Her eyes shone with warm sympathy. :And you blame yourself for things that you think you cannot change.:

            Evan lowered his eyes, but his hand brushed Pasha's cheek in understanding. "Some things just are, lady. They cannot be changed."

            Pasha's eyes twinkled. :Not…everything…:  Then, she drew away from the young woman, and lowered her head to nudge the huntress's shoulder. Something passed between them, and dreamily, the strange, dark-haired woman turned, following the sidewalk which Roland had taken earlier, and would soon lead her to the edge of the park.

:When she reaches the edge of the park, she will remember none of this…but she will remember what you showed her, Bard. With your help, she will never be open to the Dark's influences again.: Pasha said privately to the Bard, and he blushed, murmuring a disclaimer. He understood the power that he held now, but its results still never failed to surprise him. "I did what I could…lady…" He said quietly, using the title the Adept used to address her. "And I swear I will never take a cat for granted again."

:See that you don't,: Pasha replied, and shifted restlessly on her twinkling, chiming silver hooves. :But take heed, the Light must return to its place soon. Already, it sets the world out of balance. Is there not something that you would have for yourself? I remember that you were thinking of a reward for this good deed…:

Evan watched the pair of them curiously, cut off from all but Roland's half of the conversation. His palm stroked the dainty, elegant arch of Pasha's neck. The Bard's gaze flickered from the unicorn to the Adept, and remembered the promise he'd made to himself, if he was offered something in return for his help. A banquet was before him. Purgatory was over. And the unicorn was practically offering him a gold-embossed invitation. He wanted Evan. "Can you…?"

:That I can. But think, Bard. Think carefully. What is it that you want most?:

            "I want…" Roland trailed off before he could finish, as he made the fatal mistake of switching his gaze to the Adept once more. Evan. Evan was so heart-breakingly beautiful…and every time he smiled…like he was smiling now, oh God…Roland's heart flopped. He'd give anything to see that smile every morning…don't leave me again, Evan…please…I can keep you with me…all I have to do is say the words…

            But what about Evan? The Adept belonged in the Light. He was happy there. Far happier than he could be here. He loved the Earth, and the people, but with a hard swallow, Roland realized that Evan was not like the unicorns. He was the kind of hero that wanted to go home after a hard day's work. He wanted to be separate from all the little shards of pain and Dark that infiltrated this world. He was and always would be an idealist. And nobody should ever take that away from him. Just like Rebecca.

            Rebecca. What would Rebecca do without her Adept? She was still alive…Roland just couldn't see her anymore.

            If I let him go now…will I ever see him again?

            Was a normal life worth losing Evan for good?

            His entire being cried NO with everything he had. But…he loved Evan…he couldn't tie the Adept to him, even if Pasha had the power to make it so. He couldn't cause the Adept that kind of pain.

            But how could he deny himself? He didn't just lust after Evan, damnit…! He loved him, and loved what he stood for with everything he had! Losing him again…after finally finding him…was going to break his heart…and this time it would probably be for good. Nobody could ever replace him…nobody could even come close.

            "Roland…?" Evan asked, resting his hand on the other man's arm with a cautious smile. It startled the Bard out of his thoughts, and Roland looked from Evan to Pasha, who still awaited his answer with an oblique turn of her long, flower-delicate white face.

            He knew what he had to do.

            It was going to rip his soul out, but…he knew what his answer was.

            "I want Evan to be happy."

            Pasha's eyes lit to a yellow-orange flame, and she raised her head with something that Roland would have sworn – through the tears distorting his sight – was a smile.

            :And so it shall be done.:

            Her gaze finally shifted from Roland to Evan, and at the Adept's nod, there was yet another blinding flash of Light, and Roland winced away with an outcry of pain. When it faded, and he looked up, he expected to see the unicorn calling another Gate. At least…at least he could see where Evan was going, then…

            He was alone.

            Alone

            The sob tore free of his throat before he could stop it.

            Warm arms slid around his waist from behind and he jumped. "Shh…" soothed a familiar voice, "I'm here."

            "Oh, Jesus Christ…!" Roland moaned, and twisted in those arms to bury his face against an achingly familiar chest.

            "Not…quite…" Evan smiled.

            "You…you're happy…?"

            "Did you ever ask me what I wanted, Roland?" The…the…Roland didn't know what to call him anymore…his love…asked. The Bard assembled his wits into some kind of working order, and straightened to rub his nose on the back of one hand.

            "No…"

            Evan's smile was a gentle benediction. "When I had to leave the first time…I missed you, Roland. I didn't think I would…but I did. Rebecca…" He sighed. "Rebecca's clarity deserved to be cherished, but when the Goddess left her…she became the child that she should have been. And she became so much more. In the end, it was I who was left behind." His hands caressed the Bard's spine, and moved up to fist between his shoulderblades. "Every time I watched a Bluejays game…I thought…"

            "I did, too."

            "I missed you." Evan said, "I wanted to stay with you. This…" He gestured to the park around them, encompassing the world in a sweep of his arm, "This is more than anything they think it is, Dark or Light." The palm came back home, tracing Roland's jaw. "It…and you…are more than worth the cost."

            "What did you give up…?" Roland asked, suspiciously, though his treacherous body disobeyed him and he leaned into Evan's hand. People were beginning to filter into the park again, and here in New York at least, nobody gave a second thought to the pair of men standing dangerously close on this summer morning.

            "My wings," Evan grinned, brushing the bridge of Roland's nose, "and a few other things. I won't miss them that much."

            "Evan…" Roland began, a trifle guiltily. A blunt fingertip rested softly over his lips, quelling another word.

            "Shh. Pasha granted your wish. I am happy, Roland."

            "But how—"

            "Because I love you," Evan cut him off. "and I want to see you happy."

            Evan's fingertip was replaced by a pair of warm lips, and the world danced. And within the womb of the last unicorn, new life moved for the first time.