The Nightmare People by Lawrence Watt-Evans

they gave,” Elias said, “And that was what the pictures were drawn from, by people who had never seen a unicorn. And the travelers said that nobody could get near a unicorn, and that became the whole thing about only virgins approaching them, somehow, even though what the travelers meant was that the things were big and stupid and dangerous and would charge at anyone who came near them. And the locals in India used the horn as an aphrodisiac, because it looked phallic, and that became all the stuff about the magical healing.” “You’re telling me,” Smith said slowly, “that a unicorn is the same thing as a rhinoceros?” Elias nodded. “Yeah. Not the same thing, though; it’s what was left of the rhinoceros after five hundred years of legends getting handed down by word of mouth.” “A unicorn’s a rhinoceros?” Maggie asked, confused. “Yeah,” Elias said. “And we’ve heard vampire stories the same way we’ve heard unicorn stories. Except these things here aren’t unicorns, they’re the real thing, the rhinoceros. They’re what the vampire stories started out from, before everything got twisted around.” Smith released the brake, and the car rolled out into the street. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you’re right, but I don’t know. And even if you are, it doesn’t prove anything about what they’re like.” “I know,” Elias admitted, “it doesn’t, not really — but that stuff about vampires being hard to kill must come from somewhere.” “Like the stuff about virgins and unicorns, huh?” Smith said. Eli