Page 33 of Perfectly Charmed Pixie

Some might have been turned off by the shots of white hinting at his temples. I wasn’t. It was oddly distinguished. His hair would gray further as he aged. All warlock hair did, and the oldest was completely white, not a hint of their original color to be found. It was funny. Eventually, Vander’s hair would be similar to my faded color. For a warlock, it was expected. Pixies didn’t whiten or gray. Even at the end, we kept our brilliant shades.

Grabbing a lock of hair, I held it aloft, staring at the deep aqua color at the end. Would I still look like this when my final day came? Would the charm fail when my heart beat its last, death exposing the lie I’d fought so hard to protect?

The thought made my chest tight, and my stomach burned with acid. I hated the idea but doubted there was much that could be done. Maybe I’d ask Vander about it. Maybe I should ask him about it now.

I’d no more had that thought than I dialed Vander’s number. I had no idea if he would be up. Warlocks were notorious night owls.

The phone rang and rang. Five rings turned into six, and I figured the call would go to voicemail when a deep voice answered, “’Ello?”

A shiver ran down my spine, and my eyes slipped closed. I hated how much I loved the deep tenor of Vander’s voice. Evidently, it was even more pronounced when he first woke.

“Will the charm you’re making last even when I’m dead?” I said with absolutely no preamble. “I mean, if something happened to me, I would hate for all that work to go to waste and reveal my true appearance. I don’t like the thought of others mocking me, of being that kind of headline.”

A long pause followed my verbal vomit. Finally, Vander said, “Parsnip? What in Gaia’s name are you talking about at…7:17 a.m. Do you even know what time it is?”

I flicked a glance at a nearby clock and noted Vander was spot on. What I also internally noted was that I didn’t care. “Will it last after I die or not?” I pressed.

“I…” Groaning, grumbling, and more than a few barely audible curse words assaulted my ears. “Are we really going to have this crazy conversation right now?”

My foot tapped. Dangling off the side of the bed, my irritated appendage met only air. “It’s a perfectly reasonable conversation to have.”

“I doubt that,” Vander grumbled. “I should have coffee before you make me think about this.”

“So you don’t know?”

A long, drawn-out sigh was Vander’s immediate retort. “In short, no, I don’t know. I didn’t realize that was part of the charm parameters. Disregarding the disturbing idea that you’re going to bite the big one sooner rather than later, I haven’t put a lot of thought or effort into what the charm will do after you’re…gone.” Vander tripped over that last word, as if thoughts of my demise bothered him more than me.

“Hmm…well, I suppose I didn’t stipulate that as part of my wishes. Would it be possible to add that to my order?”

Vander choked. “Your order?”

I wasn’t sure why he sounded so offended. “What else would you call it? I asked for a service, and you’re charging me for it. I think the terminology fits nicely.” Not giving Vander time to respond, I moved on. “I think it would be a nice addition if it’s not too much trouble and if it won’t take extra time to incorporate. If it’s a time issue, perhaps it can be worked into future charms.” I had no plans of dying anytime soon, but one never knew. Pixies were hardy, and we didn’t succumb to disease like humans, but accidents happened, and early deaths weren’t unheard of.

“Yeah, let’s go with that.” Somehow, Vander sounded more tired now than when he’d first answered the phone.

“Okay. I can work with that. How is my charm coming?” My fingers tapped in time with my foot.

“It’s coming along. I think another day of work will complete it.” Vander let loose a cracking yawn. “Shit, I’m tired,” he lamented. “I was up until somewhere between two-thirty and three this morning working on it. My magical weaving is shot for a bit.”

I wasn’t sure how witches and warlocks worked magic. They had some of their own, enough to manipulate the magical flow around them. It was one of the many aspects that differentiated them from humans. Every magical being could run low or even out of magic. The way I understood it, witches and warlocks didn’t exactly run out, but they did seem to exhaust their ability to wield it. A good rest typically rejuvenated them.

“Are you telling me that I need to let you go back to sleep?” I asked, a teasing lilt accompanying my words. I didn’t know why I felt like poking Vander. I’d never felt like joking with Lance. Most of my interactions with him were, at best, perfunctory and to the point. I’d never called him simply to harassingly chat.

Another deep sigh met my ears. “Not sure that’s possible, but knowing me, I’ll give it my best shot and probably prevail.”

Goddess, Vander was sarcastic. I should have been irritated but instead found I was amused. “You really are an insufferable ass, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told. Repeatedly. In my defense, most of that’s come from the brownies in my life.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good defense. Brownies are a very discerning species and exceedingly patient.” I was exaggerating the last, but compared to other species, brownies really were close to sainthood.

Vander barked a low, reverberating chuckle. “Maybe it’s just the brownies I know then.”

“Hmm…perhaps,” I lazily agreed.

Lying there, listening and bickering with Vander, I realized my tension from earlier had dissipated. My body felt loose, my feet kicking back and forth not out of irritation but lazy comfort. My fingers were loose around my phone, and my shoulders relaxed. The bed felt warm and welcoming instead of cold and hard. My usually pinched lips and strained facial muscles laid at ease, a tiny grin stupidly pulling at my mouth.

In some ways, I felt like an idiot. In other ways, I was too peacefully relaxed to care. I’d barely slept last night, a practice that was becoming all too familiar. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to rest.

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