How to Save a Unicorn by Meg Cannistra

Author:Meg Cannistra [Cannistra, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkyard Press
Published: 2023-08-25T15:06:55+00:00

9

The horse stable isn’t at all what I imagined. For one, I thought it’d be like the stables in Italy. Fresh hay, plenty of food and water, clean stalls, and grassy space outside for them to frolic. Instead, the stable is on the outskirts of Central Park near Columbus Circle, situated among apartment and office buildings, and right next to a noisy, busy road that reeks of gasoline and garbage. An old wooden sign that reads Big Apple Horses hangs from rusted, creaking chains over a pair of equally rusted doors.

I push one of the doors open and am hit with a wall of hot, humid air. Inside it smells like the stalls have never been mucked out. There are too many horses shoved together, like rivets on the side of a ship.

“Hello?” I call into the stable. Jodi walks ahead of me down the row of stalls and makes a left down a narrow-looking hall.

“I’m going to do some investigating,” she calls over her shoulder before disappearing.

“What could she be investigating without us?” I whisper to Moss. “You should follow her.”

“I’m not gonna follow her. Especially if we want her to trust us.”

“Trust is a two-way street,” I say. “We need to trust her, too.”

“You’re being silly.”

“I’m being practical.” But I walk past Moss and yell, “Hello? Anyone in here?” Flies bob up and down, circling the horses’ rear ends and giant piles of horse poop. Their buzzing and the muffled noises from the street are the only sounds that greet us.

Anger boils in my veins at the disastrous state of the stable. After a long day of treading on asphalt that’s too rough for their hooves and carting people all around Central Park, oftentimes in weather that’s way too hot, the horses return to dirty, cramped stalls. I grip the bars on the nearest stall and stare at poor overworked horses that can’t defend themselves. The anger seeps out from my veins and pools in my belly as I spy empty troughs and mold growing on the walls. My magic crackles through my arm hair and hums behind my molars.

“This is a tragedy, Sinistro,” I whisper, eyes never leaving the poor creatures. Tears collect in my lashes, and I swallow the lump in my throat. “We can’t leave them like this.”

“I take it you have a plan?” Sinistro hops up onto a ledge and peers down into the stall. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”

“Well...not quite, but they aren’t staying here. Madonna mia. This is animal abuse!”

“What’s going on?” Moss asks from a few feet behind us.

“These poor horses,” I say. “Look!”

Moss looks into the stables, sees the mistreated horses, and frowns. I can tell he sees what I see. “You’re right. I agree a hundred percent,” he says, but I can also tell he’s hedging.

“But...?” I prompt.

Moss sighs. “I don’t want to get into trouble, Giada. It’s different for me than it is for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“If the stable owner catches us, I’d be the one they’d blame.

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