Free Stalking the Unicorn: A Fable of Tonight by Mike Resnick

license is in order?"
    "License?"
    "For slaughtering leprechauns,” explained the salesman patiently.
    "I didn't know I needed one."
    "I'll bet you left it at home, sir."
    "I don't have one."
    "Certainly you do, sir,” said the salesman persuasively. “If you didn't have one, you couldn't buy a gun to kill the little bastard with, could you?"
    "I left it at home,” said Mallory.
    "You look like an honest man,” said the salesman. “I see no reason why I shouldn't take your word for it.” He reached beneath the counter and withdrew a small pistol. “Here's just the ticket, sir. Ten shots, one in the chamber and nine in the stock, accurate up to two hundred feet.” He laid the pistol down on the counter and placed a box of ammunition next to it. “Will there be anything else?"
    "Yes,” said Mallory. “How do you kill a demon?"
    "It all depends. We have a complete line of talismans and amulets.” The salesman reached into another cabinet and withdrew a long crystal wand. “Or you could use this little baby here! Sweetest little weapon you've ever seen. Guaranteed to demolish every demon below the level of the Fifth Circle."
    "I don't feel comfortable with magic,” said Mallory. “What kind of gun will do the trick?"
    "None. And I'll thank you not to refer to this as a magic wand, sir,” said the salesman haughtily. “This wand works by strict scientific principles, just the same as our amulets and talismans: it refracts light to create invisibility, it ionizes the air around your antagonist and thereby eliminates his oxygen supply, it seeds clouds to create thunder and lightning, it—"
    "All right,” said Mallory. “I'll take it.” He picked up the wand and examined it. “How do you make it work?"
    "The spells are included with the instructions."
    "Spells?"
    "There are certain key words that trigger various responses from the microchip in the handle,” explained the salesman. “The rest of it is just for dramatic effect."
    "And this will definitely work against any demon I run across?” asked Mallory.
    The salesman shook his head. “Only those below the Fifth Circle. What type of demon do you expect to be confronting?"
    "I don't know. But if it's any help, he's called the Grundy."
    "You want to kill the Grundy?" gasped the salesman.
    "Only if it's necessary."
    "Your name wouldn't be Mallory, would it?"
    "It would."
    The salesman grabbed the wand back. “Go away!"
    "You don't have anything that will help me?"
    "You're in the wrong place!” whimpered the salesman, crouching down and hiding behind the counter. “The only thing you need is a Bible."
    "The Grundy's affected by Bibles?"
    "No, but you might want to learn a quick prayer or two before he finds you."
    "What do I owe you for the gun?” asked Mallory.
    "One hundred seventy-five dollars."
    "All I have are hundreds,” said Mallory. “You're going to have to get up and make change."
    "Just put a hundred on the counter and leave!"
    Mallory, aware that everyone in the store was staring at him with expressions varying from shock to pity, picked up the pistol and the box of ammunition, put them in his pocket, and walked back into the street, where he found Mürgenstürm and Felina waiting for him.
    "What now, John Justin?"
    "Now we go to the museum.” Mallory paused. “I don't suppose they'll have a stuffed leprechaun?"
    "Certainly not!” said Mürgenstürm, morally outraged. “You might as well ask if they have a mounted elf on display!"
    It took them fifteen minutes, via elephant and subway, to reach the museum, a huge and ancient structure of stone and steps and spires.
    "The perfect example of Gothic Baptist architecture,” commented Mürgenstürm admiringly as they approached the main entrance.
    "I didn't know there were any examples of Gothic Baptist architecture,” replied Mallory.
    "There are here,” said Mürgenstürm, ascending the broad stairs. When he reached the top, he went to a small door about fifty feet to the right of the