CASSIDY - ACCIDENTAL UNICORN, THE

Cover Art: Katie Woods

Editor Kelli Collins

My darlings,

Here we are at book eighteen! Im not sure how the heck we got here, but from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Nina, Marty, and Wanda thank you for your ongoing love and support. I adore this world. I love its flaws, its outrageous cussing, its enduring friendships, its extended-extended family, and I love that you still keep coming back for more after eleven years. It means the world to me.

I know this has to end someday. I mean, eventually, therell be nothing left to accidentally turn but the vacuum (hmmm), but until then, onward to another adventure!

Also, please note, Ive played fast and loose with the mythology of unicorns (which there isnt a lot of, by the by) and twisted it to suit my own selfish needs. Any and all mistakes or outlandish fabrications are mine and mine alone.

Last, but never least, to my BFF Renee George: This chipmunks for you.

Love,

Dakota XXOO

T hank you for calling OOPS in the middle of the goddamned night when I was just about to go home, have a pint of blood, and finish my binge-watch of Stranger Things. I mean, Jesus on a surfboard. Its three oclock in the a-m. Cant whatever the fuck is wrong with you wait until tomorrow?

IIm

Never mind. My name is Nina Statleon. Ill be your guide to all things paranormal. For your safety, please keep your hands and feet inside the whacked-ass ride youre about to go on until we come to a full and complete goddamn stop.

Um

So how the fuck may I direct your call? Do you have a sudden urge to drink blood and rip someones throat out? Because thats my department. Or are you spittin hairballs and feeling like a rare steak might hit the spot? Thats for Marty, or maybe even Wanda, but shes preggers and the size of a GD tractor-trailer. Probably not a lot of help at this point. Anywho, if its brains youre craving, thats for Carl, but I warn you, hes not your typical zomb

Brains? Why would I? Oliver Baldwin couldnt even finish the sentence, but he couldnt let her continue to talk, either, or hed likely projectile vomit.

Who craved brains? Who? That was sick.

His stomach lurched a little before it settled to a nice slosh from the remains of the sticky-sweet Frapp from Starbucks hed had earlier. Maybe this had been a big mistake. Maybe these people were fetishists who merely thought they were vampires and werewolves. People like that existed.

Hed seen them on some show he used to watch with his fiance called My Strange Addiction or some such weirdness. And if they thought they were these supernatural creatures, they lived the lifestyle according to the folklore.

Slept all day, stayed up all nightmaybe they even drank blood. But it would take some fancy footwork to prove to him they were immortal and preternaturally strong.

He was no fool. He knew about these things because of Denise.

Tick-tock, buddy. State your case and hurry the hell up. And I swear on all thats good and holy, if youre one of the flippy-dippy jokers who want to join us in our cause or youre a crank call, Ive said it before and Ill say it again. I can find you just by your scent. Yes. You heard that right. Ill sniff you out. Dont test that theory. Because trust and believe, you wont like how your esophagus looks on the motherfluffin outside.

Oliver swallowed hard and rubbed the raised knot on his head just under the brim of his knit cap. He had some serious concerns hereone of which was the violence of not only the tone this woman used, but her actual words.

While true, he needed his esophagusdid he need it more that he needed an explanation for what was happening to him?

He was feeling pretty iffy about it right now.

The woman on the other end of the line rapped the phone on something hard. Probably her desk. Whatever it was, it brought him back to the present with a sharp jolt.

Hello? Im hanging the fuck up in three, two

Im sorry! he rambled as quickly as he could before she disconnected and he was really left with no hope. I got distracted. Uh Its none of those things, maam. I am in need of none of those things.

There was a shuffle and a creak of something, probably the chair this surly woman was sitting on, before she said, Maam? Did you hear that shit, Marty? Weve become maams. Aint that some fuckin shit.

No, a melodic voice responded. The woman named Marty, he assumed. That aint my fuckin shit, vampire. Thats your fuckin shit. He called you maam. Not me. Then she giggled, and he found it was sweet and soft and pleasant to his ears.

Rolling his fingers over the mouse pad, he looked absently at the OOPS website and reread the part where it claimed to help anyone in paranormal distress. Oliver wasnt sure if this was paranormal distress, but it certainly wasnt normal distress.

It was just a lot of distressing stress, of that he was clear.

Clenching his fists, he refocused. Im sorry, Miss Statleon, was it? Maybe Ive made a mistake. When I googled strange phenomena, your website came up. Um, OOPS, right? I do have the right number, dont I? Can you define what strange phenomena means to you?

Can you define what the sound of hanging up means to you?

He winced. Hed offended her. Im sorry, Miss Statleon. I know I must sound horribly rude. Im a little mixed up right now.

Forget it, and its Mrs. Statleonbut preferably just fucking Nina, and yep. You got the right number. We deal in strange phenomena. Thats just the fancy bullshit keyword Marty puts in the search engines to drum up business, but what it really means is we deal in the cuckoo. So forget that shitty phrase and focus on my next question: What are you? Or what do you think you are? If youre not a vampire, werewolf, zombie, cougar, bear, mermaid, skinwalker or a phoenixoh, or a genie; sorry, I forgot that shizzle. That was some crazy, let me tell youthen what the fuck? Were runnin out of shit to be, brother. Soon well have to shut this shit down because there wont be anything paranormal left to accidentally turn into.

Nina? Put that call on speakerphone, please, another softly cultured voice demanded sternly.

Why, Wanda? Dont you trust me to handle this?

No! the two women said in gleeful unison.

Ninas raspy sigh grated in Olivers ear. Fucking fine. Listen, I said, state your case and state it fast. I got a full plate and youre holding up the buffet line.

He looked out the window of his house in Buffalo at the cold dead of night, watching as the leaves fell from his oak tree in soggy piles of gold and orange hed have to rake come daylight. Under normal circumstances, that would make him happy. Fall was Olivers favorite season. Whatever was happening to him was interrupting his favorite season and involved glittera buttload of glitter.