"Aaaargh!" cried Van, pain suddenly wracking his body.
His agonized outburst led Odette, Dallin, Logan, and his mother to rush to his side. "Where does it hurt, sweetie?" inquired Mrs. Cooper.
"My back…my back…" Van moaned through gritted teeth.
The duck woman quickly laid her hands over Van's hunched back, hoping to locate the cause of his pain. To her astonishment and terror, the flesh was swelling at an alarming rate near his shoulder blades. "Call 911!" Mrs. Cooper shouted to her other children.
"It hurts," said Van, gripping the unicorn horn as if it were a bullet between his teeth. "I wish it would stop!"
Mrs. Cooper felt something soft, almost like a pair of down pillows, underneath her son's shirt—and then the swelling began to subside. Van let out a gasp of relief.
"I-I'm okay," he said to Odette, who had picked up the phone. "D-don't call an ambulance."
"I've never seen anything like that happen to you before," said Mrs. Cooper as she watched the twin lumps on Van's back disappear. "I'm taking you to the emergency room right now."
"We'd like to get our horn back first," said Francine.
With Greta's horn in her rear pocket, she accompanied Arthur to the sidewalk. "Stupid Van," she grumbled. "Now there's only one wish left."
"I wish I could see without glasses," said Arthur.
"You're lucky you can see at all," Francine chided him.
Then she and Arthur exchanged looks of sudden realization. "Marina!" they exclaimed in unison.
"There's no such thing as magic," insisted the blind rabbit girl.
"Humor me," said Francine as she tried to force the unicorn horn into Marina's hands.
"Humor yourself," the acerbic girl retorted. "This is some kind of Halloween prank, and I'm not falling for it."
Marina's stubborn refusal to take the horn prompted Arthur and Francine to beat a retreat from the Messersmith home.
Prunella, seated next to Marina on the couch, clicked the Mute button on the TV remote. Hoprah Linseed's voice became audible again.
Marina turned to her friend. "I didn't mean it when I said there's no such thing as magic," she said apologetically.
"I forgive you," said Prunella glibly.
Not long afterward, another visitor entered through the screen door—April Murphy, still clad in the same green dress she had worn at Springfield Tech.
"Hi, April," Prunella greeted her. "Or should I call you Sue Ellen?"
"That ship has sailed," was April's response.
She stood directly in front of the rat girl, and they locked eyes.
"I want to be with my real parents," she stated. "I don't care if it means never seeing Earth again."
"Huh?" said Prunella.
"You know where I live," April went on. "Come and get me."
With that, she turned on her heel and left.
"What was that about?" asked Marina.
"Heck if I know," said Prunella, shrugging.
In the former bank lot where Fern had discovered the passage to Unicornutopia, several dozen men and women with yellow skin and four-fingered hands were digging relentlessly, filling the field with mounds of dirt.
I donna care about magic wishin' unicorn horns, thought a shaggy-faced Scotsman as he stuck in his shovel. But I must find the unicorns, 'cause they alone 'ave the secret of the leprechauns. Soon their pot o' gold'll belong to Willie!
Past the scene rolled a yellow Mitsubishi, driven by used car magnate Ed Crosswire.
"Dad, what are those people doing?" Muffy asked her father from the passenger seat.
"I don't know, Muffin," Mr. Crosswire answered. "Maybe they're Habitat for Humanity volunteers from Springfield."
Onto the vacant lot strolled a fearsome-looking Italian-American man, flanked by two dark-suited, scowling companions. "Listen up, youse," he bellowed at the sweaty diggers. "This piece of land is now the property of the Springfield Mafia, bought and paid for fairly and squarely with my own laundered drug money. So take your shovels and vamoose before I have you forcibly ejected, capisce?"
Not one person present dared stand up to Fat Tony and his goons. Rather than take their shovels and run, they all dropped their shovels and ran.
Muffy and her father drove on in silence. Muffy was too excited about purchasing a new limousine to speak, and Mr. Crosswire was readying himself to drop a bombshell on his daughter.
"Muffin, I have a confession to make," he began. "The car you're riding in right now—I didn't rent it. I bought it."
Muffy gasped in disbelief.
"I wanted so badly for you to have a fancy-schmancy new limo," the man continued. "I tried really hard to put the money together, but with all the payments we have to make, and the slump in the car business, I just couldn't find the sum."
The monkey girl looked at her feet and sighed. "I understand, Dad."
"Try not to be upset, dear," Mr. Crosswire went on. "Six months to a year from now the insurance company will reimburse me for the old limo, and then I'll…"
"I said, I understand," said Muffy with more firmness.
Mr. Crosswire looked over his shoulder to make sure it was really his daughter speaking. By the time he faced ahead again, he had almost collided with an old woman in the crosswalk.
"This car's okay," said Muffy. "Honestly, it is. I'd rather we have this car and other nice things, than have a new limo, and default on our condo payments, and be thrown out on the street, and have to beg for food, and wear denim."
Mr. Crosswire sighed, glad that his daughter had accepted the new order of things so readily.
"To make it up to me," Muffy suddenly said, "you have to take me out for ice cream every day for a year."
Mr. Crosswire smiled. "You got it, Muffin."
The next morning, in the bedroom she shared with April, Sue Ellen awoke from a pleasing dream about bungee jumping from the Great Wall of China.
"Hey, April," she whispered. "Wanna know what I dreamed about?"
"April?"
"No, I haven't seen your, er, sister," said Francine. "But with the way people have been disappearing and appearing lately, I wouldn't get my scrunchies in a knot."
After Sue Ellen had left her doorstep, Francine grabbed the unicorn horn out of her desk drawer and took it with her down the stairway of the apartment building. She rang the bell at Augusta's, hoping to find the woman in better spirits.
Augusta's nose was a bit rough and red, but other than that, she seemed well. "Come in, Francine."
She apologized profusely as the girl made herself at home. "I'm sorry for being such a basket case yesterday. I will never, ever play with love potions again. The whole idea was so illogical—but I guess that comes with being female."
Francine reached for the horn in her back pocket; she had to struggle to move it, as the point had become caught in the fabric of the couch.
"Would you like something to eat?" Augusta asked her.
"Would you like to be a man again?" said Francine, waving the horn triumphantly.
"Ask me again after I've had a baby," was Augusta's reply.
"I'm serious," Francine told her. "This is a magical unicorn horn, and it will grant you any wish."
Intrigued by the horn's appearance and sheen, Augusta reached out and plucked it from Francine's fingers. "Fascinating," she marveled. "Where did you get this?"
"From a unicorn," said Francine poignantly. "She…she was my friend."
Augusta sat down in front of her desk, opened a drawer, and drew out a transparent crystal in a golden frame. As she scrutinized Greta's horn through the device, her eyes grew wider and wider. "This is the real deal," she remarked.
"It's yours," Francine offered. "Keep it."
Augusta grinned widely. "Thank you, Francine. I'll get something nice for you someday."
"I've got to go," said Francine, confident that she didn't need to explain the operation of the horn to an expert alchemist.
"Wait," Augusta called after her. "What day is your birthday?"
The girl was gone, and the door closed. Augusta picked up the unicorn horn and caressed it with her fingers.
I could be Angus again, she thought. No more makeup, no more cramps, no more having to sit down.
Or…I could be a witch again.
She smiled, exposing her pearl-white teeth.
I don't know which I miss more—being a man, or having witch powers.
to be continued