Beetle Juice by Piers Anthony Page A

embraced. That closeness, physically and emotionally, had enabled them to achieve the visit and construction. To make her a secret virgin.
    â€œYou know, I think now I could stay with you, because—”
    â€œNo,” she said gently. “Let the fond illusion be our secret.” And of course she was right.
    In the morning the trail remained. He transformed, touched her fondly with his horn, and marched onto the trail. He did not look back, knowing he would see her tears.

Chapter 3
Trail Mates
    The trail soon left the village behind. It wound through a forest that was at first similar to the one he knew, but gradually became dissimilar. Still distracted by the memory of Weava, so deserving a woman yet ultimately not for him, he paid scant attention. He hadn’t even thought to bring any clothing or pack any supplies. He could go back for them, but did not want to disrupt the parting they had already managed. He would make do.
    Where did the trail lead? Weava had spoken of the Amoeba, a creature that spanned the whole of existence. It seemed it offered the trail only to individuals needed for a mission. He had no idea what such a mission could be, and less idea what beetle juice meant. Some sort of beverage? A sexual reference? Or was it a code for something completely alien? Or a gross cosmic joke?
    Then he became aware of human minds. There was a village ahead. That was a relief; someone there might have a notion what he was here for.
    He trotted up to the village, but the villagers ignored him, continuing about their assorted businesses. He could tell from their minds that they were aware of him, but determined not to interact with him unless he initiated it. It seemed that was Amoeba policy. He could also tell that they had been through a significant experience recently, some kind of threat they had had to fight off, and they were still making repairs. He could not learn more without prying unduly.
    Then he spied a group of four people camped at the far edge of the village, somewhat apart from it. An old man, a young man, and two young women. One of them was ordinary, the other a striking beauty; neither was a virgin. They saw him coming, and were eager to interact with him. These were people he needed to converse with; they evidently knew why he was here. They were members of an experienced team, and they had been waiting for another member. That would be him. It was clarifying as their assorted thoughts radiated.
    He walked on through the village, approaching the foursome. The two women gazed at his form and loved it. That was normal for non-virgins. But it reminded him that he was in equine form. If we wanted to talk with these people he had to revert to human form. He did so, coming to a halt before them. “I see that you are the members of the team I am supposed to join,” he said, evincing more dramatic confidence than he felt. If they were not such a team, he would be at a loss.
    They were silent, still assessing him. “I am sure we will get along capitally,” he continued, again hoping it was true. “I am Wetzel.” He glanced at the women, who did not know he could read their thoughts, and were thinking rather nakedly, especially the pretty one. “Thank you for your honest appreciation of my physical equine and manly qualities, ladies.”
    Now the pretty one spoke, and he picked up her name. She was a vampire! A were-bat with a taste for blood and sex. That was a surprise. “We didn’t speak.”
    â€œAh, but you did, Vanja.” Then he had to explain. “You see, I am telepathic. More precisely, I am a telepathic were-unicorn.” He smiled. “We are a rare breed. I presume it was for my ability to read minds that I was summoned here, though I did have other qualities.” He looked again at the women, who both blushed. It seemed that in their cultures women were not supposed to have raw sexual desire, and seldom voiced it. Their unprotected