My grandfather told me this happened when he was little.

Alarm spread through the village, in short warnings the grown-ups didn't bother to explain to their children. The children were gathered in the homes together with the old, while the able-bodied armed themselves and went out in groups to warn anyone scattered.

Cooped up indoor in broad daylight, the children heard the stories about this particular threat for the first time. A pale spirit of sorts, as calm and shining as a cloud-free and wind-still midwinter night. And as deadly.

They were interrupted by calls of a returning search party. They brought one of the older girls home, dead and cold. Not a mark on her.

Everyone waited out the day and night, fearful or mournful.

By mid-morning the next day, some parents decided the children should see, and took them to the place where the hoofprints had been spotted.

Most fae were capricious, but my grandfather never forgot, the unicorn was most dangerous of all.

Ron wondered how much the tall girl's nonstandard healing process would complicate matters. She sat in the back of the police car, holding her side. If she'd been unclaimed, and their story true, she should be bleeding, but a green growth had closed the wound. The smell, somewhat like freshly cut grass, was odd in this context, but unmistakable.

Her companion caught Ron's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and held them.

"So, what kind are you?"

The assumption he had to be claimed, too, just because he had not sided with the locals whom she accused of taking pot shots at her and her friend, irritated him. However, he cut the lecture, on the basis that she'd had a really bad day. Besides, her assumption was correct.

"Lunar."

"So, do you turn into a big shaggy monster on fullmoon nights?"

"He's not that insistent." Well, if she wanted to talk... "What about you? Dragon?"

She rolled her eyes a little. "Wyvern."

"So, do you turn into a venom-spitting flying lizard on occasion?"

She rubbed her cheek self-consciously. The scales had faded to something resembling giant freckles, her eyes to an unspectacular hazel. "I try to avoid it."

Light played on the iridescent feathers of the Kingfisher mask. The huge, dark glass eyes looked strange. An enticing danger, a challenge. Or mockery?

Nico shook her head and looked around her room. It was small, the mask was bulky, and she was foolish for not re-selling it. Though she wasn't so short on either cash or space she couldn't afford a bit of sentimentality. That was all there was to it. Right?

There were people in town she could consult to find out if the mask was enchanted or haunted. But quite apart from the cost, she didn't want to. She was quite sure the feeling of being someone slightly different when wearing it was all in her head. It was the same in other situations where she had to, or wanted to, pretend.

And if she was wrong? Well, it would be rude poking into the mind of anything with a personality, particularly if you liked him. It. Whatever.

That was a better reason than, I like the little thrill of this doubt.

The moon tugged on Daaren's attention. Around this time of the month, time seemed to slow, and the world to come closer, right under his skin.

It is... peaceful, he told himself.

The door was wide open. It led from the old cellar to a corridor whose one side was all windows, with blue light filtering through. There was a faintly glowing threshold dividing the dirt floor on this side from the carpet on the other.

Nicolas took a deep breath and stepped through. The door collapsed to a fading point of light immediately after.

Angus didn't like it. He hadn't liked much of anything since Nicolas had found him—well, that was unjust. After the initial worry the human would cause a stir, it was nice being able to talk to him openly. For a while. Until he had turned more or less to blackmail. His secrecy in exchange for knowledge. If it had been anyone else, things would have been different, but Angus couldn't work against the rightful owner of the house.

Hopefully he had paid attention and didn't cause any messes. Or run into any dangers too big to handle.

On the other hand, if he stayed disappeared, this might solve the problem. They just had to take care whoever inherited or bought the house didn't spot them.

That might be Nicolas' sister, at that. She should arrive any day now, invited to watch the house.

Considering that affront, Angus decided he didn't want Nicolas to come back. As if a house spirit couldn't do the job.

With his nieces either old enough they wouldn't break any of his individually glass-encased insects, or moved so far away they didn't come, John had a birthday dinner in his home again. It did not protect from surprises, though.

He stared at the joint present, purchased under the direction of his younger sister, if her grin was any indication.

"I remembered you were looking for one."

"May, I meant the species of wasp, not something you need specially made."

Hanging from claws on six spider legs from the roof of its cage, the startled tarantula hawk ruffled its wings.

Sylvie had to decide what to do with an entire afternoon without any classes or duties.

She could continue melding splinters back into the door frame, for practise.

He finally told her exactly how little he thought of her, enjoying the sight of her shrinking into herself with every attack. He had carefully considered his final blow beforehand.

"You will die alone, and no-one will mourn you." It broke something in her, but not what he'd expected.

"Good. I do not consider making other people feel bad a pursuit worthy of my time." Her smile was serene. "Go away, and never come back."

He had no words left that could touch her.

She was glad finally her doubts had been removed, and she was free of him.

Elin dismissed her familiar spirit of years. She was sick of the ghostly cat coughing up lumps of ectoplasma on the carpet, or leaving half-eaten imps on the doorstep.

Surely summoning a dog would be better.

When the dog brought home an unscathed imp that wrecked the living room before she could dismiss it, she realised she should have made sure not to get a retriever.

"You give me that jaw, I'll make you knives from the first two fangs." It was a high price, but very few people could work dragon teeth.

Marie deflected Fay's rather disturbing interpretations of her dreaming of squids with a simple, "Nah, I was just craving sushi."

Tara found a cure for her arachnophobia: matches. But burning spiders chased her through her nightmares.

"Congratulations! Not only do you cheat gravity, you also break the 2nd law of thermodynamics!" A stranger test result than expected.

Gabriel tried turning into a bat only once. He never could get rid of the pointed ears, and avoided getting that drunk thereafter.

Tom arranged a blind date for Nico, with a rat. She challenged his ingenuity, asking for other dates. Dismayed, he failed.

Arson got tired of having to explain that his mother liked Orson Scott Card, and had thought "creative spellings" were a good idea.

Arson's aunt picked names by sound. He found he had a lot in common with his cousin Felony. "'It's shorter than Felicity,' she said."

Tom tried to convince himself his day hadn't been all bad. He felt worse when he realised the one moment of joy had been schadenfreude.

The mermaid hovered next to her late guest, fidgeting. She kept forgetting humans had no gills. It was getting really embarrassing.

Mark read about selling credits or ensurance to recently bereaved being immoral and maybe void, and wondered why selling religion was OK.

The cat watched the mouse disappear, and wondered what being small and part of a close family was like. She felt out of place.

She couldn't slow down. The thought of one day having to tell him what she had done would freeze her. She had to save him first.

Thomas didn't look good in the vid-call. "Dude... there's a frog on your head."
"Yeah, that's Fred; he's a bit weird."

"How can you still trust anyone after so many betrayals?"
"If I assumed everybody was out to get me, I might as well be buried alive"

Angelica decided to try a different costume rental. Last year she had to pull pubic hair out of the chainmail bikini before wearing it.

When she was 14, Vickie discovered she could stop time. She used it to read until the early morning, and still sleep 10 hours a day.

Hours added up. Vickie's habit of stopping time to get more things done in a day meant that at age 30, she'd lived about 40 years.