Page 62 of Perfectly Perfect Pixie

“I know that wasn’t your intention. It wasn’t mine either. Perhaps we were too focused on the minority of the nest and forgot to take care of the majority.”

It was an easy mistake to make. Those who cried the loudest often drew the most attention, whether they deserved it or not. Most of the time, I opted to ignore those louder voices. This time, it hadn’t been an option. Someone had tried to poison me. That was not something I could overlook.

I stared over Leon’s shoulder, watching Johnny direct Lizbeth toward a bottle on the top shelf. Lizbeth stood on a ladder, reaching high. Perhaps I should give serious thought to hiring a full-time pixie. Phil had certainly come in handy retrieving things from the top shelf.

“I cannot reassure them until we have the evidence to eliminate those involved. I believe the time is at hand. This farce has gone on long enough. I tire of acting . . . tired.”

“We need to bring the charade to a close.”

“Indeed. Perhaps I should have amishap, something that hints I am weak enough to challenge.”

“Agreed. Freddie becomes increasingly smug as the nights go by. I’ve seen a few nestmates who’ve become bolder too. They gather around Freddie as if he were already king, laying down his own form of asinine law.” Leon snarled, lips pulled back, exposing his fangs. Leon would never show that level of emotion around any but me. “Freddie’s ignorance is mind-boggling. The fact that others have been taken in by his moronic declarations is perhaps even more disturbing. We’ve both been around long enough to witness similar events throughout history. Humans are perhaps most to blame. They live such short lives and forget their history far too easily. However, the other species are not immune.”

“Indeed, they are not.”

“Exposing his hand and those who believe Freddie is the future has given my team the opportunity to narrow our investigation. When the time comes, we’ll have additional evidence to back up any decision you make, Lucroy.”

“Death or exile.” Sometimes, exile was as good as a death sentence. It gave the one responsible for the judgment a moral out. We could placate our guilt by believing we gave them a chance. Few were able to survive exile. Sometimes it was worse. Perhaps that is why so many vampiric kings and queens chose that route. Knowing exile was worse than death fit our sadistic pleasure.

“Death, exile, or the box,” Leon added the third punishment. I hadn’t implemented that form of punishment in over two hundred and seventy years. It was beyond cruel.

Bax lumbered in. Trolls’ large size often fooled others into thinking they were slow—both mentally and physically. Nothing could be further from the truth. Others would start filtering in soon, and I wanted to leave before Dusk became too populated.

“I’ll think on your words, Leon. Tonight, when I get back, we’ll plan something a bit more dramatic. Let’s see if we can bring this game to an end and relieve our nestmates’ concerns.”

“Sounds good.” Leon gently clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll keep watch over the bar. You head out. I’m sure you’re eager to see your beloved.”

My facial muscles softened with thoughts of Peaches. “He is truly spectacular.” I was utterly smitten.

Leon barked a quick laugh. “Go on. Bree’s waiting to drive you.”

“Bree is lovely, but I will not miss her company when all this is said and done. I miss driving. The motor vehicle is one of the better inventions humans developed.”

“Enjoy it while you can. Pretty soon, all the cars will drive themselves.”

I inwardly cringed. I knew that was the way technology was heading. I wasn’t overly fond of the idea.

Wishing Leon a good evening, I headed toward the back hallway and the garage. When I opened the parking garage door, Bree stood beside my Jeep, the engine already running.

“Good evening, Bree.” I remembered to add a slight hunch, rounding my shoulders and walking just a little slower than usual.

“Good evening, Mr. Moony.” Bree hustled to the back of the Jeep, opening the door for me. I wanted to scold her. I didn’t need the door opened. I wasn’t even a little frail. But Bree didn’t know that. Like nearly all my nestmates, she thought there was something wrong. Bree had decent control of her emotions at a little over two hundred, but not nearly as good as me. Concern radiated off her like a curse.

“Thank you, Bree,” I forced myself to say, climbing into the back seat.

Bree shut the door before I could reach for it.

In no time, Bree was in the driver’s seat, the car heading out of the garage. Worried, obsidian eyes kept flashing at me in the rearview mirror. I tried to ignore them. Guilt wasn’t a foreign emotion, but it was an unwelcome one. Sometimes I dearly wished I could be as emotionally vacant as many of my brethren.

Staring out the window, I refused to acknowledge the troubled glances Bree repeatedly gave me. Finally, she seemed unable to hold her tongue.

“Mr. Moony.” Bree sounded hesitant. “I don’t mean to pry, but . . . I mean, should you really be spending so much time with the pixie?”

I shoved my growl into the deepest bit of my belly, swallowing its acidic burn.

“I mean, Peaches seems okay—for a pixie. He’s always polite when I drive him, but . . . I don’t mean any offense, but you haven’t been looking as well recently, and there’s been talk . . .”

“Talk?” Resting my chin on my fisted hand, I resolutely stared out the window.

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