Page 6 of Perfectly Perfect Pixie

I blinked, face most likely expressionless. “Interspecies Habitat?” I had no idea what Peaches was talking about beyond the fact it was most likely some sort of television programming. I’d been fascinated by television when it first came out. At first, vampires were worried that watching a sunrise on the television screen would be as deadly as standing in the real thing. Looking back now, it had been a foolish notion, but none of us understood the technology behind the new device. Needless to say, none of us had burst into flame.

With his head down, Peaches’s wings stuttered to a stop, his toes touching the ground before the flats of his feet.

“I . . . It’s just a show on the Home and Kitchen channel. Parsnip hosts it.” Head snapping up, Peaches quickly added, “Parsnip’s a social pixie.” His nose scrunched as if he smelled something bad. “As a general rule, I’m not that fond of social pixies. They can be . . . Well, they can be a lot. I suspect Parsnip’s the same way in real life. Social pixies do well on television, and a lot of them have found homes on social media. They don’t really bond to places like nature or home-and-hearth pixies do. They have a different way of gaining strength.”

Peaches cocked his head to the side as if thinking. Finally, he blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m not sure how to explain it because I don’t really think I understand it myself. The more attention they get, the more powerful they seem. Not that pixies have a lot of power,” Peaches hurried to amend. If one only looked at offensive power, that was true. But no one beat a bound pixie when it came to defense. Not even a fairy.

“Anyway,” Peaches huffed, “Parsnip hosts the show. It’s about unlikely species that decide to mate and cohabitate.” Peaches waved a hand in the air while his wings furiously beat. “It’s not as silly as it sounds. Some of the shows try to resolve real problems. I mean, just think about Phil and Sedrick.” Peaches waved a hand in his friend’s direction, and I noted that Ruthie and Dillon were gone. At first, I thought Phil was leaning on Sedrick’s chest, crying. But it wasn’t tears of despair, but of joy. Phil was laughing so hard he was crying. Sedrick wasn’t as amused but chuckled while rubbing Phil’s back. I wasn’t sure where the children had slunk off to, most likely with their tails tucked between their legs.

Peaches must have followed my gaze because he said, “They probably went back into my cottage to change into their human forms. They left their clothes in there earlier. That was a whole other issue.” A bark of bubbled laughter shot out of Peaches’s throat, making him snort again and slap a hand over his mouth and nose.

The sound and follow-up movement were more endearing than I wanted to admit. This strange little pixie intrigued me more and more. I looked forward to seeing Peaches and had sought ways to stay in contact with him. Ray had helped in that regard.

“Was Hellfire Rayburn able to work out an agreeable contract between you and the Inskeeps?” I asked.

“What?” Peaches looked taken aback by the change in topic but quickly latched on. “Oh, yes. Mae and Don were quick to agree. Thank you for thinking of that. I appreciate your concern.” Peaches blush was back.

“It was simple enough.” I casually dismissed Peaches’s gratitude even though it secretly made me very pleased. “I’ve owned one business or another for several centuries. If there is one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that you can never cover your own ass too much.” I offered up a sly grin.

Peaches returned the gesture. “Be that as it may, I’m grateful for your advice. I’d like to think a situation like that will never occur, but . . .” Peaches fell silent, wings dropped. My shimmering pixie didn’t look right like that. Pixies weren’t meant to wear melancholy. More than once, I’d caught Peaches like that. All of us had tragedies we’d rather not remember. Some were worse than others, but each and every one left an invisible scar.

“Peaches,” I started. My voice seemed to snap him out of the memory he was trapped within.

Peaches’s wings popped back up with an audible snap, his chin came up, and his arms crossed his puffed-out chest. “This orchard will be fine,” Peaches declared. “It will get better and better. I’ll make sure of that. The trees are happy, and they will stay that way, and nothing and no one will ever take me from them.”

I had no idea what had brought on such a declaration. Regardless, it was a reminder I didn’t want. Staring out across the darkened orchard, I could see and scent Peaches in every leaf, in every blade of grass, and in every grain of pollen. Peaches could leave the area for short periods, but he could never live somewhere other than this land.

* * *

“Back already, boss?” Johnny asked while mixing a mojito. Pete and Bax let a few human patrons in tonight; most likely, the drink was for one of them. Given the variety of species we catered to, the bar was stocked with various beverages. Mixologists working in mixed species bars had to pass certification and take continuing education classes yearly to maintain their licenses. One species’ casual high was another species’ death knell.

“Hmm,” I nodded while easing my way behind the bar. Saturday night was our busiest, and Dusk was a popular bar. I was pleased to see the entrance waiting line was wrapped around the building. Not everyone would get in tonight.

“They roll up the sidewalks pretty early out in the country?” Johnny asked, sliding the mojito down the bar top with ease. Sure enough, human fingers wrapped around the glass, lifting it off the ancient wooden surface.

“Far earlier than here.” I looked around the packed dance floor. Music thrummed through the bar. I wasn’t sure how weres tolerated it. Not all weres were the same, but many had better hearing than other species. Over the years, I’d seen more than a few stuff earplugs into their canals before entering.

“Makes sense. Not much call for walking around an orchard after midnight.” Johnny’s lips twisted, pinching his eyes. “Least ways, not if it’s a public celebration kind of thing. Back in the day, we used to have parties that went on all through the night, sometimes into the next morning.” Johnny shrugged away the memory. “Fauns like a good party. Getting one started isn’t the problem. Stopping it is.”

I thought about the dwarves. Sedrick and Phil had helped more than a few of them back on the party bus. Their singing was still audible when the bus doors closed and it pulled away. I wasn’t certain if the partying would continue once they arrived back home or if they’d pass out on the way and have to rent the bus another day like a traveling hotel.

“Did you have a good time?” Johnny inched closer, the sound of his hooves masked by the pounding music. “How did Peaches look? Did he put a little extra sparkle in his hair?” Johnny waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

I didn’t fall for the bait. “Peaches looked lovely as ever. Pixies are known for their beauty.” I casually ignored the comment about the sparkle in Peaches’s hair because, yes, he’d placed a little extra product there, and the effect was enchanting. Peaches didn’t need those types of enhancements; his blood sang loud enough. However, I’d have been lying if I didn’t find the effect mesmerizing.

“Bah,” Johnny scolded. “Lighten up a little, Lucroy, and remember who you’re talking to. I’m not part of your vampire nest. I’m your employee, and more importantly, I’m your friend. I don’t give a shit who you wanna do the horizontal tango with. Or whose vein you wanna sip from.”

I covered my amusement with a delicate cough. “Spoken like a true faun.”

“Naturally. How else would I talk?” Johnny was frank, as always. It was a trait I’d come to appreciate and rely on.

I stared out across my establishment again. At least half a dozen of my nestmates were here tonight. More would show up later. As king of the Southeast nest, I rarely saw most of them. My area covered too much territory. We had semiannual gatherings, but even then, only about a third of those I was responsible for physically came. Traveling for vampires could be dangerous, even in this day and age. We were most vulnerable while traveling large distances when darkened havens were difficult to find.

Despite this, I felt responsible for all those I served. Some kings didn’t. That was one of the few ideas I’d heard Arie Belview spew that weren’t total shit. I was a rare king. Most didn’t consider those within their nest to be theirmates. That term didn’t mean the same thing to a vampire as it did to a were. For us, it was completely platonic. When I called them my mates, it was in the familial sense of the word.

I had a duty to keep them safe, protect our area, and mitigate any disturbances or disagreements. Some vampires made undead, life-long commitments when they felt they’d met their beloveds, but those instances were rarer than weres finding their mates. Perhaps it was due to our long lives. Fairies entered into long-lasting commitments even less frequently, lending credibility to the idea.

I blinked, slow and measured. Why was I thinking about beloveds? About were matings and fairy romance? I was being ridiculous. I wouldn’t deny my attraction to Peaches or the way his blood hummed, but I’d had hundreds of trysts over the years. There was no reason to believe this odd pixie would be any different.

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