The Unicorn Quest Read online

  “Daddy?” Claire didn’t usually call him that, but the coziness of the dinner had left her feeling wistful. The unicorn statuette flashed back into her mind.

  “Yes?” He plucked out a bright box of birthday candles.

  She took a deep breath. “Why didn’t we visit Windemere when Great-Aunt Diana was alive?” To Claire, Great-Aunt Diana had been nothing more than the scrawled signature at the bottom of a birthday card. It had never occurred to Claire to ask much about her—all she knew was that Diana was Grandpa Leo’s sister.

  “Oh, that,” Dad said. He tapped the box of candles against his palm and a bunch slid out. He stuck the first one in the cake before answering.

  “Well, your great-aunt Diana traveled a lot. She loved her work, and she was obsessed with adding art to her collection. As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he said with a wry smile. “Besides, she could be … difficult. Your grandpa was never that close with her, so after he and your grandma died, we just didn’t have much reason to visit. I suppose I always thought there’d be more time to reconnect someday. And then there wasn’t.”

  Claire sensed something like regret shading her father’s voice, like the softest pencil mark on paper. A tendril of guilt unfurled in her chest. She hadn’t meant to bring up bad memories.

  “Ready?” Dad asked, lighting the candles.

  Claire picked up the bag of presents, double-checking to make sure her gift was there. “Ready.”

  She followed Dad and the birthday cake to the dining room. Because Dad was so tall, she couldn’t see Sophie’s face when he walked through the door, but she did hear her gasp of surprise.

  “What’s going on?” Sophie asked, and Claire was pleased to hear that her sister sounded genuinely astonished. “My birthday was months ago!”

  “It’s a re-birthday,” Claire said as she dumped the packages onto the table. Dad presented the cake with a flourish and set it next to the mound of presents. There was plenty of room, as the large oak table could have easily fit half of Claire’s fifth-grade class. “Mom came up with it.”

  “A what?” Sophie asked, sneaking a finger out to swipe a bit of frosting from the platter’s edge.

  “Hold your horses,” Mom said, and shooed away Sophie’s hand. “It’s your re-birthday. You weren’t able to leave the hospital on your actual birthday, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself now!”

  “See?” Dad said. “We didn’t forget you, um, what’s your name again?”

  Claire looked at Sophie and they both rolled their eyes at the same time. They were always in perfect harmony regarding Dad’s jokes.

  “A re-birthday,” Sophie repeated softly. In the light of the thirteen candles, her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled. As Sophie smiled at her family, Claire thought she had never seen her sister look more beautiful.

  Sophie blew out the candles, and even though it wasn’t Claire’s re-birthday, Claire made a quick, quiet wish. A wish so tender that it had cocooned itself deep inside her heart, only to flit out now. Little wisps of smoke hung over the table as the rest of the Martinsons clapped.

  Mom cut slices of cake for everyone, and Dad snapped pictures on his big camera. Soon, there was gentle laughter as Sophie unwrapped gifts and held up the pink pom-pom sweater from Nana. Finally, there was one present left: Claire’s.

  “It’s spectacular!” Sophie squealed once she untied the bow. Her sister smoothed out the curling ends, and Claire took in her own work. It was a charcoal drawing of Sophie sitting in the crook of the magnolia tree in their backyard, the knees of her jeans torn. Surrounded by leaves, her sister looked thoughtfully away into the distance. Instead of drawing the delicate blossoms that appeared each spring, Claire had filled the tree with all Sophie’s favorite things—books, playbills, flutes, cupcakes, microphones, and ice skates.

  Sophie stood up and wrapped her arms around Claire’s shoulders.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Claire said.

  Sophie gave her a quick squeeze. “I love it.”

  “We should get it framed,” Dad suggested. “Then we can hang it in your room.”

  “Great idea,” Mom said as she began to gather up the torn paper and ribbons.

  Claire smiled and leaned against her sister. Her tiny, stolen birthday wish flitted back to her, and she hoped that maybe—just maybe—it had come true.

  CHAPTER

  2

  The gargoyle’s nose was giving Claire trouble again.

  With a sigh, she used her thumb to smudge a shadow under it, trying to add depth. She’d been working on perspective this morning, and if she tilted her head, she could just see the profile of a stone gargoyle that roosted above an attic window. It snarled ferociously over Windemere’s sprawling green grounds that stretched as far as the eye could see. Claire thought it was a bit weird to see so many uninterrupted trees, but in the countryside where the nearest neighbor was a ten-minute drive away, she guessed it was normal. At any rate, it wasn’t weirder than the rest of Windemere.

  Holding the paper at arm’s length, Claire stared at her sketch. The shadow hadn’t landed right—instead of making the nose pop, it just looked like she’d given the gargoyle a mustache. Rubbing the mistake away with an eraser, she tried again.

  Claire had been drawing since she was tiny. There was something calming about dividing the world around her into small, knowable parts that could then be captured pencil line by pencil line.

  “Have you seen Sophie?”

  Looking up, Claire saw Mom framed in the attic doorway. A pair of earrings glinted in her hand. When Claire shook her head, Mom frowned. “Can you help me find her? We have to leave in half an hour.”

  “Where are you going?” Claire asked, not minding the interruption. Her drawing was looking more like a deranged koala than a gargoyle anyway.

  Mom wiggled her earrings in. She seemed distracted. “Sophie has an appointment with a new doctor.”

  Worry hung itself on Claire like a wet towel. “Why does she have to go to the doctor if she’s all better?”

  “It’s just routine,” Mom said, holding the door open a bit wider for Claire. “Dr. Silva is a specialist, and we’re very lucky that his offices are closer to Windemere than they are to home. We just need to get Sophie there.” Mom tucked a few curls into the makeshift bun on top of her head. “Can you check the first floor?”

  Claire nodded. Scooting past Mom, she padded down the threadbare Persian runners and to the back staircase. Once she reached the ground floor, she quickly started opening doors.

  The first opened to a room filled to the ceiling with furniture. Wardrobes and tables and little poufs were balanced precariously in stacks, along with more unusual woodwork, like a love seat carved in the shape of a mermaid.

  In the second room, the floor was clear, but the walls were covered in paintings of plants and bugs and butterflies … at least, Claire hoped they were paintings. She quickly closed the door. Sophie would never hang out in such a creepy-crawly room.

  The third, fourth, and fifth rooms were more of the same—collections of jars, flocks of odd-looking musical instruments, jumbled suits of armor and riding boots … Claire had no idea why Great-Aunt Diana had wanted three sets of bagpipes.

  And still no Sophie.

  As she wound her way through the hall, Claire heard a cough come from behind a pair of double doors and she pushed them open.

  “What are you doing?” Claire asked, finding herself once again in the unicorn gallery. And there, at the far end, perched on the ladder in the enormous fireplace, was Sophie. Her sister’s hair shimmered as she turned around to look at Claire. Ash dusted the shoulders of her purple T-shirt.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Mom wants you,” Claire said, stepping farther inside. “You’re supposed to go to the doctor’s.”

  Sophie made a face. “There’s still at least fifteen minutes before we need to leave.”

  “But—” Claire tried to think of somethin
g—anything—that would convince her to come down. The bad feeling the room had given her before was creeping back. “What if Mom and Dad find out?” she finished lamely.

  “You’re not going to tell, are you?” Sophie asked.

  Reluctantly, Claire shook her head. The last time she’d made that mistake, Sophie had called a family meeting and made the case that Claire was now old enough to be a part of laundry rotation.

  “Good. Sisters need to stick together.” Sophie climbed up another few rungs so that Claire could only see the backs of her knees.

  Vanishing point. The words popped into Claire’s head. It was the term her art teacher used to describe the point in a drawing beyond which objects cease to exist. Her stomach turned. What was the vanishing point for her sister?

  Then, suddenly, Sophie’s sneakers stopped. They climbed back down and her sister’s head reappeared. “Coming?”

  From her sweaty palms to her racing pulse, everything in Claire screamed No! It was high! It was narrow! It was dark!

  But … Sophie had asked her.

  “Yeah,” Claire said, a reluctant delight pushing aside her logical misgivings. “I am.”

  Sophie grinned, and scrambled up again, this time disappearing entirely. And so Claire began to climb.

  She was faster than she’d been before, but she still wasn’t as quick as Sophie, who was scrambling up like a squirrel. An occasional flake of ash fell into Claire’s eyes, and the burned air tickled her nose. Soon, she couldn’t see Sophie, but she could hear her feet thudding against the ladder.

  Suddenly, loud coughs echoed down the shaft.

  “Are you all right?” Claire called up to her sister.

  “I’m fine!” Sophie said, her voice slightly muffled. “Hurry up!”

  But the fizzy delight that had propelled Claire forward was now falling flat. She began to feel hot as she placed hand over hand, foot over foot. Her fingers twinged a bit, like they had fallen asleep.

  Wondering how much longer it would be before they reached the top and got out of the dark, Claire tried to picture the outside of Great-Aunt Diana’s mansion—the four stories of red brick, the many chimneys that reached past the attics’ peaks.

  How many rungs had they climbed … one hundred? Two hundred?

  A chill curled in her chest. It was dangerous to play in chimneys. They could fall, they could get stuck, someone could light a fire …

  Claire was sweating now, the air stiff and stale.

  “Sophie!” she called. “Maybe we should turn back?”

  Claire looked down—and immediately wished she hadn’t. There was nothing below her but darkness. It was as if the gallery, the statues, the entire world below had all ceased to exist.

  She wanted to turn around, but at this point, surely they were closer to the roof than the hearth. The tingling in her fingers intensified and the sensation spread to her arms and legs. It almost felt as though her bones were humming.

  “Sophie?” she tried again. Claire paused, listening, and an awful knowing settled on her, heavy and suffocating: she was alone.

  A scream clawed up from her belly and pushed out in one long word: “Sophieeee!”

  She climbed faster, trying to outrace the blackness and unbearable hum that now rattled her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. Faster, faster!

  And finally, there it was. A pinprick of light above her.

  Claire gasped and hurled herself toward the bright dot. Suddenly the ladder ended, and her fingertips scraped against rock. Balancing precariously on the last rung, she hoisted herself up—and then she was tumbling, falling headfirst.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the ground that must be rushing up to meet her. But just as suddenly, she landed in a pile of sharp elbows, tangled hair, and rough denim.

  “Ow! Get off me!”

  A pair of hands shoved against her chest, and she rolled off Sophie onto damp grass.

  Claire breathed in cool, sweet air. Stars twinkled above her, and the moon cast a buttery glow. Wait.

  Moon. Stars. But it had just been morning!

  Claire shot upright.

  A garden of fluttering leaves and flowers encircled the sisters. Ivy crept along its edges, while squat fruit trees hunched forward, tired from years of neglect. The lingering scent of recent rain rose from the grass. Claire’s throat constricted. Though it was beautiful, it was wrong.

  They’d been climbing a chimney, but what they’d reached was not a roof. Chimneys always led to roofs, didn’t they? And though the grounds at Windemere were pretty, there was certainly nothing like this. Even the air had changed. No longer heavy with summer’s humidity, it felt brisk and springlike. It was almost as if they’d ended up in an entirely different world.

  “Clairina,” Sophie gasped, and pointed beyond the treetops, toward a dark shape that loomed against the night sky.

  Claire squinted. It seemed to be something similar to a mansion, but larger. More like a school or a cathedral or a—

  “A castle,” Sophie breathed.

  Claire rubbed her eyes and stared hard. “That’s impossible.”

  “But it’s there!” Sophie cried, and scrambled to her feet.

  Claire couldn’t deny its presence … but she couldn’t explain it, either.

  As her eyes adjusted, more and more details of the castle materialized from the dark: round towers, arched doors, and funny, ragged walls with the tops cut like a jack-o’-lantern’s grin. In some places, stones had fallen, and entire portions of the gate had crumbled, making it look like a doomed sandcastle at high tide.

  “But it shouldn’t be there!” Claire protested. She gestured futilely to their surroundings. “Where’s the roof? Where’s the chimney? That’s what’s supposed to be here—not this!”

  A grin bloomed across Sophie’s face. “Oh, don’t you see what’s happened, Clairina? We’re in another time! Maybe even another world!”

  Claire’s stomach lurched. “But that doesn’t make sense,” she insisted, despite the fact that she’d had the very same thought.

  Sophie stooped and plucked a button daisy from the grass. Twirling the flower between thumb and forefinger, she asked, “Then what would make sense?”

  Claire didn’t have an answer.

  From the castle and the cascade of stars unimpeded by electric lights, she knew they had definitely left Windemere Manor. She wished she’d paid better attention when Mom had pointed out the constellations to her and Sophie. Claire liked the stories of flying horses and queens trapped in chairs, but she could never find the shapes in that big mess of starlight. If she could, maybe she wouldn’t be so lost now.

  Turning from Sophie, Claire scanned the garden for the chimney, but all she saw was an old stone well.

  She scrambled over to it and peered down. For a second, the air in the well rippled and glimmered like water. But then it stilled, and she could see that there was no water at all, only the wooden rungs of a ladder. The hairs along the back of her neck began to rise, one by one.

  Claire looked up and realized Sophie had already left the clearing and was now making her way through rampant greenery in the direction of the towers.

  Apprehension slammed into Claire’s chest.

  Even though a tiny part of her admitted that the ruined castle was beautiful, exactly like something a princess might have lived in once, they didn’t know what this place was. There was no guarantee that a strange world with a chimney passage would be friendly—or even safe.

  “Wait!” Claire called, running after her sister. The tall weeds whipped her bare legs. “We need to go back!”

  “Just give me a second,” Sophie said, pulling back a low branch as Claire caught up. “Have you ever seen anything so spectacular?” Still holding the branch, she gestured grandly with her other hand toward a newly revealed garden wall of broken pillars and lichen-covered arches. Through it, Claire could just make out a flagstone walkway that led to a doorway in the ruins of the castle.

  “We n
eed to go back,” Claire repeated, but her words were less commanding than before. She drew in a breath as she looked at the moonlit walls. Slipping the pencil from behind her ear, she gripped it tightly, torn between an intense desire to draw what she was seeing, and the fear of being lost in a strange other world. Suddenly, she felt very cold.

  “How many times do you discover a castle?” Sophie asked, clearly exasperated. “I want to check it out.”

  A twig snapped loudly.

  “Did you hear that?” Claire asked. Unease prickled her neck, and she shivered.

  “What?” Sophie pushed past the low branch and continued to walk toward the collapsing wall. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “There was a snap,” Claire insisted as she quickened her pace. “Like someone stepped on something.” She looked around but the night was still, except for the drifting clouds.

  Suddenly, she saw a shadow move along the ground, then dart behind a pillar.

  “Sophie! Did you see that?” Claire grabbed Sophie’s arm and twisted her around.

  “See what?”

  Before Claire could explain, Sophie’s eyes became so wide that Claire could see twin reflections of the moon in them.

  “Don’t move!” Sophie whispered sharply. But Claire moved anyway, because she had to see for herself.

  Only a few feet away, in the depths of the shadows, were the eyes of a monster.

  CHAPTER

  3

  Perhaps “eyes” wasn’t the right word for the two points of blackness that seemed to focus on Claire. Staring into them, she felt as though she were falling away from herself, as though she no longer knew up from down, no longer knew her own name.

  Everything was erased—a terrifying blank.

  Claire couldn’t tell if the monster was more man or beast. It was human in shape, but overly long and stretched. A sticky darkness clung to it, like shadows melted onto a too-large skeleton. As it stepped toward them—knees bending oddly, hands dragging in the dirt—its eyes never left Claire’s.