Page 14 of Perfectly Perfect Pixie

“I know.” Peaches’s hair fluttered around his shoulders, covering his upper body in a wave of deepening gold. “Everything was wonderful.” Face twisting, Peaches looked ill. “I think I screwed up. Or, at least, the festival was a mistake.”

“How can that be? Everyone enjoyed themselves, and you seemed happy. I may not be a pixie, but I can’t imagine you would have been that joyful if the trees and land had opposed the festival.”

“Oh, no. The trees were very happy.” Peaches smiled for the first time. “They loved the attention and were happy to show off, but . . . usually, the barrier I have around the land is very solid. Very little gets by without my knowing. But that night, I lowered the parameters. There were so many visitors and guests that I changed it just a little, but I think it was enough.”

I spent the next few minutes patiently listening and digesting Peaches’s concerns about an aphid infestation and why he thought it had happened. I didn’t understand how pixie magic worked any better than Peaches understood my craving for blood. That didn’t mean I didn’t sympathize. What I was still confused about was how Arie Belview might figure into things and asked just that.

Inhaling, Peaches said, “The number of aphids isn’t normal. Even Titan Gladstone agrees.”

“You’ve spoken with Mr. Gladstone already?”

Peaches hadn’t wasted time.

“I called him today. He . . .” Peaches hesitated before his dropped shoulders straightened and his chest puffed out. “I know what I need to eliminate the infestation. I thought maybe Titan could help. He may be able to, but he said I might have better luck if I asked you. I’m sorry, Lucroy. I should have waited longer to show up. I just . . . It’s been a long day, and I couldn’t wait any longer. As soon as the sun headed for the horizon, I left. I knocked on the door, and Bax let me in. I hope that’s okay. If not, please don’t be mad at him.”

On the contrary, I planned on giving Bax a bonus.

“Anyway, when I spoke with Titan, he agreed. That’s a lot of aphids for such a short amount of time. I think . . . I think it’s possible that someone released them into the orchard the night of the festival. It’s the only thing I can think of, the only reason I can think of, that there would be that many so quickly.”

The pieces came together. “And you think Arie would be the most likely suspect.” I didn’t disagree.

“I think it’s possible. He’s the only one I can think of who would have that type of malicious intent and the will to do it.” Peaches puffed up. “Just look at what he did to Sedrick’s gnomes and . . .” Peaches voice drifted off, his gaze settling to the side and eyes distant.

“Peaches,” I pressed. “What else did Arie Belview do?” I ran my fingers down the length of Peaches’s hair, shifting it over his shoulder. Listening to my instincts, my fingers drifted toward Peaches’s neck, my touch barely a whisper against his skin. A full-body shiver went through him, and he leaned into my touch. It was all the encouragement I needed.

“He killed my cousin.” The words fell from Peaches’s lips, the ache in them nearly palpable. “It was years ago, before I even knew Phil. Arie wanted the land Peony bonded with. The courts ruled against him, but that didn’t stop Arie. He poisoned the stream feeding the land. The trees and vegetation died. Peony died with them. Arie got what he wanted.”

Arie Belview was used to getting what he wanted. It was a trend that had finally been interrupted when Sedrick Voss won custody of his niece and nephew along with his pack members’ safety. Sedrick had been very clear that Peaches was considered pack. If Arie had attempted to sabotage Peaches’s orchard, and therefore threatened Peaches’s life, then he was breaking his oath and, more importantly, fairy law.

Peaches lifted his head, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks flushed with sorrow. “Do you think I’m crazy? Am I making more of this than I should? I don’t want to cause trouble. Things have been quiet. Phil told me the other day that he and Sedrick hadn’t noticed so much as a sneeze from Arie’s direction. I don’t want to fuel flames that have cooled, especially with wild accusations that aren’t credible. At the same time, if Arie is involved, if he’s trying to sabotage my orchard—”

“Then he needs to be held accountable,” I easily filled in.

Peaches nodded in ready agreement. “I don’t know what to do.”

Unable to resist the urge to touch any longer, I wrapped my fingers around Peaches’s hand. The glass of water cradled within was dwarfed by my larger fingers. Warmth spread from that singular contact, expanding up my arm and infusing my chest. Even though I’d fed earlier, vampire skin ran cool.

Tabling the issue of Arie Belview for now, I asked, “Earlier, you mentioned there were two ways you were hoping I could help.”

“I did. And hopefully, there is.” Inhaling deeply, Peaches’s drooped shoulders straightened. His wings tried to flutter but were stymied against the back of the booth we were nestled within. “The aphids are too much, at least for me. There are chemicals,” Peaches hedged, “but they tend to kill the good with the bad.” Chewing on his bottom lip, Peaches blurted, “Sprites. I need sprites.”

I pulled my hand back, instantly missing Peaches’s warmth. For this, I needed a cool head, one that wasn’t distracted by the golden pixie I was starting to crave.

“Sprites?” My mind tumbled through every bit of information I knew. What I came up with didn’t completely sit well. “Pardon my ignorance, but it is my understanding that pixies don’t particularly like sprites.”

Admittedly, I had little information. I’d never seen the need to educate myself on this particular subject. To be honest, until I’d met Peaches, I’d never seen the need to educate myself regarding pixies in general. Given the current circumstances, I found my lack of interest over the past few hundred years short-sighted.

Twisting, Peaches wiggled his body so one knee perched on the seat, his wings no longer trapped by the backrest. Gold dust filled the air as his wings twittered to life. “They’re not bad,” Peaches defended. “Not really. More like pests than anything. They don’t need pixie dust to survive, but it is a food source.” Nose scrunching, Peaches made an adorable huffing sound. “Kind of like how humans crave ice-cream. They don’t have to have it to survive, but they really like it, and some would make a complete diet out of it if they could.”

Several other species had fallen for ice-cream’s charms. Not all, but it was a food that seemed to transcend several different taste buds. Even vampires had made a sweet, frozen, blood-filled treat. I didn’t think others viewed it as part of the ice-cream pantheon, but it was as close as we could get.

“Most pixies don’t like sprites,” Peaches continued. “They tend to swarm. It would be a bigger deal if there were more sprites around.”

“They do seem to be a species that tends to keep to themselves.” It had been decades since I’d seen a sprite, let alone a colony.

“They do.” Peaches hesitated. “There was a time, before fairy law, when they were hunted. Or maybe trapped would be a better word. They were a human novelty. Captured and placed in jars. Humans liked their sparkle and light. Whole businesses sprang up advertising ‘magical sprite lighting’ as part of their decoration.” Peaches’s chin jutted out as he crossed his arms. “It was ridiculous and . . . cruel.”

“Much like ogres trapping pixies and holding them as a constant source of dust.”

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