Page 28 of Perfectly Charmed Pixie

I’d heard a lot of rumors in my life and learned to doubt most of them. This was one I didn’t believe for a second.

The sound of tires on gravel met my ears, and I turned, watching a pickup truck lumber down the lane leading to Peaches’s cottage.

As one, the sprites tittered and took off. I jumped back as they darted past me en masse. My heart thundered, and my eyes flew wide as they swarmed the truck.

“Shoo,” I pointlessly shouted at them, frantically waving my hands in the air. Those damn things were a menace.

“It’s okay.” Peaches’s firm palm landed on my forearm, pulling it down. “That’s just Phil. He’s okay with the sprites and lets them feed off his dust too.”

I stood there, feet unusually rooted to the ground, mouth slightly agape. Were all the pixies in Rutherford Haven insane?

“Holy shit, that’s a big pixie.” Mike’s expletive pulled me from my less-than-charitable thoughts. But damn, my cameraman was right.

I’d never seen a pixie round on someone so fast. “Not a word,” Peaches said, voice low and full of weight. “Phil is a beautiful pixie, no matter his size.” Flying high, Peaches’s attention zipped to me. Pointing an accusing finger in my direction, he added, “I know a few social pixies who’ve thrown some hateful words Phil’s way. I hope you’re not one of them.” It wasn’t a question, more of an order.

Eyes wide, I held my hands up, palms out. This was a totally different side of Peaches, one I’d never seen, one that was protective of his friend.

My mouth snapped shut, teeth clacking. I’d heard of Phil. From what I knew, he was a home-and-hearth pixie of unusual size and mated to an alpha werewolf. Divia had thought of contacting them, but as we both understood, there was nothing Phil’s home needed to accommodate a pixie and werewolf family living together. Besides, as a home-and-hearth pixie, if there needed to be any changes, Phil would persuade the house to bend to his will. Although the story was interesting, there wasn’t a show there. At least not the kind of show we created.

“Hey, how are you all of you doing today?” Phil dropped out of the truck, fluttering his wings and scattering pink dust everywhere. The sprites didn’t waste any time. They dove into the pink melee, scooping up dust by the mouthfuls.

Phil waved, and Peaches took off, his earlier fatigue and momentary anger forgotten as he flew into his friend, wrapping his arms around Phil, both squeezing tight. Parsley was the only other pixie I could even imagine being that happy to see.

Phil’s laughter lit up the air. Peaches’s joining mirth added a layer to the happy music. Even the sprites seemed to lower their ear-piercing pitch to something more tolerable.

“You ever seen a pixie that big?” Mike whispered into my ear. “Is he even arealpixie?”

I bristled, suddenly understanding Peaches’s concern. Just because Phil didn’t fit the ideal pixie shape and size didn’t make him any less pixie. Reactions like that made me desperate enough to trade my life force just to looknormal. A part of me admired the hell out of Phil for being who he was. Another part of me wallowed in jealousy that he’d found the courage to be himself. If only I were that brave.

“Of course he’s a real pixie,” I spat, glowering in Mike’s direction before flying toward the embracing pixies.

I stayed far enough away not to get inside sprite range. I patiently waited until they’d parted. I would have thrust my hand out by way of greeting, but I didn’t want to breach the sprite-induced bubble.

“Phil,” I greeted, keeping my distance. “Or would you rather be called Philodendron?”

“Phil’s fine.” His smile was wide and honest. When he started to reach out a hand, Peaches saw where my gaze traveled.

“Parsnip isn’t as fond of the sprites,” Peaches explained, placing a halting hand on Phil’s outstretched arm.

“Oh!” Phil stared around him as if he’d already forgotten their presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“No reason you should,” I reassured, although I still thought these pixies were the odd ones out when it came to their opinions of sprites.

“Maybe you should head out into the orchard now,” Peaches suggested, staring into the sparkling cloud surrounding Phil. The tittering noise turned decidedly disappointed. “You can come back later, and you all know it,” Peaches scolded.

As a group, they spun in the air and took off, flying deeper into the surrounding orchard. I watched them go, their bright lights blinking out as they got farther away.

“They’re always so energetic.” Phil chuckled. “I wish I had half that amount of energy when dealing with Dillon and Ruthie.” With a slight but fond head shake, Phil wistfully said, “The cold doesn’t bother them a bit while they’re in their fur. It’s the first thing they do when they get home from school. They strip down and dart outside.” Phil’s light laughter returned. “I’m still getting used to the lack of modesty.”

I’d met my fair share of weres and agreed. “No, modesty doesn’t seem to be something their moon goddess gifted them with.”

“For good reason,” Peaches agreed.

With the sprites now gone, Phil moved a little closer. He was decked out in pink from head to toe. Even the choker necklace wrapped around his neck was filled with pink diamonds. Phil was a handsome pixie, and a humble one if his posture was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry, Peaches. I thought they’d be done filming by now.” Phil’s shoulders rolled in on his body. It looked like a well-worn disguise, one used to make himself appear smaller than he was. I hated that he felt it necessary in front of me.

“I think we’re done for today,” I reassured. “You’re not interfering in the least.” Trying to put Phil more at ease, I said, “Your coloration is beautiful, Phil. I’ve seen a few pink pixies before, but few of them wear it as well as you.” It was an honest compliment.

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