Page 1 of Perfectly Charmed Pixie

ChapterOne

Parsnip

Virginia. It wasn’t the worst place I’d gone for a job. It wasn’t the best either. The place would probably look better decked out in summer colors. Winter was called drab for a reason.

I shivered but not from the cold. Comparing summer’s spectacular beauty to winter’s equally dismal solitude hit a little too close to home.

“At least it’s not Minnesota,” Divia said, her voice muffled and her head down, scrolling through her phone. “It’s about fifty degrees colder there.”

I didn’t give a shit what the temperature was in Minnesota. I wasn’tinMinnesota. I was in Virginia and would be for the foreseeable future. Episodes ofInterspecies Habitattook as long as they took. Sometimes, it was a quick fix. A wall up here, a fancy crypt there, an enclosed room with its own ventilation system to stem the scent of rotting meat…and voilà, problem solved.

Peaches’s and Lucroy’s issues were a little different. That was the whole point of dragging the production crew here. There wasn’t a recorded mating between a pixie and a vampire in known history. It simply wasn’t done. Until now. I had no idea what changed, what brought them together, and, more to the point, what made them think forming an eternal bond was a good idea. That wasn’t my business. My business was dealing with the aftermath—the practical aspect of making that bonding work within the confines of their living conditions.

“What in the hell is a nature pixie doing bonded to a vampire?” Mike asked. Most of our production crew was human, and Mike was one of those unfortunate creatures. Humans loved technology and were better suited to professions involving electronics. Mike’s technical skills involved the camera.

“No idea,” Divia answered. “And none of our business.” My boss echoed my own personal thoughts.

“Yeah.” Mike scratched his head, shifting a scraggly chunk of chestnut brown hair. The color wasn’t anything special. No pixie would be caught dead with hair that color. “But it’s weird.”

“No stranger than the brownie and troll we filmed two years ago,” I answered.

That had been a challenge. The house needed to be large to accommodate the troll, but the furniture, countertop height, and fixtures were a nightmare. In the end, we’d settled on two of almost everything, set at different heights and sizes. The only thing there’d been one of was the bed.

I shut down my imagination. I didn’t want to think about what the size difference meant during intimate situations. I also didn’t want to imagine what going to sleep and waking up next to putrid troll breath would be like. Brownies packed a big magical punch. Maybe this one had come up with something to stem the stench.

“The sun will set soon,” Divia said, pulling her eyes away from her phone long enough to glance at the horizon. While pushing her white-blond hair behind a finely tipped ear, Divia grinned. The tips of her jagged teeth glinted in the fading light. She looked every bit the siren she was born to be. Ghostly pale skin, eyes barely containing a hint of ice blue, and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth that were far from welcoming. The fact male humans continually fell for sirens’ mesmerizing call rode a fine line between sad and idiotic.

“I heard this vamp tolerates the sun better than most,” Mike said, loosely holding his camera at his side.

I wasn’t sure we’d film anything tonight, but Mike was always at the ready. Sometimes it felt like his camera was an extension of his body. Removing it would be akin to chopping off a limb.

I thought about Mike’s comment before adding my own. “My understanding is that Lucroy Moony is over six hundred. Not the oldest vampire around but plenty aged. They get stronger the longer they’realive.”

The politically correct term was second life. Vampires considered their first lives the time when their own blood filled their veins. Their second lives depended on borrowed blood to continue their existence. I didn’t care much for semantics. Others could debate howalivevampires were. As long as this one was willing to pay for my services, I couldn’t have cared less where the living/dead line landed.

“True.” Divia finally pocketed her phone. I wasn’t fooled. Her hearing was excellent, and she’d know the minute it dinged with a new message. “But I think there may be more to the story in this case.” Divia’s waist-long hair slid across her shoulder as her head shifted to the side, pooling around her right arm.

My wings fluttered, spreading aqua-colored pixie dust. I’d made sure to position myself downwind. Divia wasn’t as affected by pixie dust, but human nostrils found it very irritating. I had no desire to see snot dripping down Mike’s face. Been there, done that, and didn’t care for a repeat.

“Are we making that part of the show?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to go there or not.

Divia shrugged. “Not sure yet. That will be up to Mr. Moony and Peaches. I won’t go out of my way to out something they don’t want to be shared. That’s not the kind of show I produce.”

I stiffened, wings flipping out and making a smacking noise. I knew the reputation social pixies had, and it was well-earned. What wasn’t earned was the accusatory tone marring Divia’s words.

“That was uncalled for, Divia.” I kept my voice flat, careful to hide the fury lurking below. Pixies weren’t supposed to get angry. We weren’t supposed to be aggressive or forceful. Sometimes it was difficult to remember what I wassupposedto be.

Momentarily silent, Divia inclined her head ever so slightly. “You’re right, Parsnip. Apologies.”

My wings flapped aggressively, spreading pixie dust slightly farther than I would have liked. Silently accepting my producer’s apology, my feet lifted off the ground, my body hovering a foot off the cold earth. My pixie boots offered enough soft warmth that my feet were toasty. The heavy, cream-colored shawl I had wrapped around my shoulders kept the cool breeze from touching my body. Despite that, I still wanted to get inside.

“I’d like to get to work,” I said, more than ready to do what needed to be done so I could go back to my rental house.

I’d contacted Lance again. He’d promised a new batch of charms would be waiting for me outside the front door when I got back later tonight. My warlock better not be wrong. The activated charm around my thigh had enough juice to make it through the next couple of days, maybe four, although I thought that would be cutting things too close for comfort.

I also needed to repaint my finger and toenails tonight. I’d noticed a chip in the dark aqua coloring on my toenails. My pixie boots would cover the flaw, but I didn’t want to become dependent on them. If the polish on my toenails was chipped, it wouldn’t be long before my fingernails followed, and that wasn’t something I could cover as easily.

Normalpixies didn’t need to polish their nails. They were naturally colored the same as their hair. Fingernails were a lighter shade while toenails mirrored the tips of our hair and were the absolute darkest shade.

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