Page 4 of Perfectly Charmed Pixie

“I believe we can easily work around the situation.” Divia allowed a bit of her honeyed siren voice through. I’m not sure if she did it on purpose or if it was merely instinct.

“Absolutely,” I chimed in, pushing all the false confidence I could manage into that one word.

“Excellent.” Lucroy tugged on Peaches’s waist, nuzzling against his neck before he turned and said, “Perhaps you’d like to look inside the house. We can sit and discuss what Peaches and I would like to change.”

“Of course.” Divia walked with purpose. “Please, lead the way.”

Peaches and Lucroy passed through the door first. Divia followed, along with Mike. I hung back, gaze fixed on the darkened orchard. Somewhere out there was a litany of sprites. They were greedy little gluttons, and I wanted nothing to do with them. Peaches said it was against the rules for them to eat my dust without my permission. Time would tell whether they followed those rules to the letter or not. Peaches might not mind being lunch for sprites and vampires. Not many pixies could say the same.

ChapterTwo

Vander

Could your head really explode? The more I dealt with the public, the more I wondered. The pounding sledgehammer banging away at the front of my skull suggested it was a distinct possibility. I wondered if Byx would be able to heal something like that. Probably not. She was a gifted brownie but still in training. She was also a little young to traumatize with an exploding head. Brain bits could be hell to clean up. I supposed that’s where Muriel’s Zombie Cleaning Service came into play. They were pretty cheap. Most likely, Byx could scrounge together enough money to pay to clean up the shop.

“Well, can you do it or not?”

With my forehead in my hand, I peered through my fingers at my latest customer. Human, Vera Livingston was pushing fifty, maybe sixty. She was still beautiful, although I sensed more than a half dozen magical spells lingering around her. Wealthy humans could afford to look good until the day they died. But charms only affected what was on the outside. No amount of magic could fix a wretched soul. And healing magic could only do so much too. Magic hadn’t extended human life by more than a decade. Compared to other species, they still aged quickly and died young.

Maybe that was why humans were like this, why they tried to eke out every last bit of desire from the short lives they were allotted. It might explain a lot.

I sighed, long, deep, and full of regretful life choices. “Mrs. Livingston,” I started, “what you’re asking for is illegal.” I’d already told her that not once but twice. “It isn’t a matter ofifI can do what you’re asking. It’s a matter of legality and, quite frankly, morality. I won’t do what you want.”

Vera didn’t like my answer any more this time than the last. She slapped a hand on the counter, her painted lips twisted, momentarily revealing a plethora of fine lines brought about by years of smoking. “You’re a fucking warlock. Don’t tell me you’ve got some haughty moral code.”

I stiffened, anger adding fuel to the battering ram in my skull. “I assure you, Mrs. Livingston, being a warlock hasn’t diminished my moral code.”

If anything, it had enhanced it.

Unwilling to believe me, Vera waved a hand. “Money can soothe a lot of morality issues.”

“For some, perhaps. But not for me. Feel free to find another witch or warlock to help you.”

“Witches are too goody-goody. I need a warlock, and you’re the best.”

It was a stereotype that seemed to have become ingrained within society. It was one of those knowntruthsthat weren’t true at all. Witches were good. They communed with nature and didn’t put out anything negative because it came back on them tenfold, blah, blah, blah. Warlocks were evil. We were the cruel, malicious side of magic. We boiled children for fun and liked to torture small creatures for shits and giggles.

Byx got me a sign for my office. It read, “You can’t fix stupid.” That was true enough. What you also couldn’t fix was willful ignorance. There was plenty of opportunity to learn. All you had to do was crack open a book, open an app on the internet, or visit the local prison system. Plenty of witches were incarcerated, right alongside warlocks gone bad. Not to mention any other species that had their own rotten apples.

The only thing Vera Livingston wasn’t wrong about was that last bit. I was the best warlock around. That didn’t mean I was the best in the world or even the country, but I wasn’t humble enough not to acknowledge that I was as good as you would get around the Southeast.

“Be that as it may, I will not work a spell, charm, or even a hint of dust that will make your husband have a heart attack. Not even a little, bitty one.”

Vera herself had thrown on that last part when she’d tried to tempt me into service. She seemed to think heart attacks could be doled out by degrees. While it was true that some were worse than others, I wasn’t willing to take any chances. Besides, I didn’t think her husband would think any type of heart attack was “little.”

“You don’t even know how much money I’m willing to give you.” Shoulders square, Vera sat up straight as a board. Her designer pocketbook and heels had nothing on the diamonds set in platinum draped around her neck, dripping from her ears, and glinting on nearly every finger. Vera wasn’t someone who believed in hiding her wealth.

“I don’t need to know.” Pushing my chair back, I placed my fingers on the counter, leaning over as I did.

I wasn’t a small warlock. Most weren’t. Genetically, we favored height and were often gangly youths. Muscle came later, and I was old enough that I had plenty to go around. I knew how to be physically intimidating…not that Vera truly had anything to worry about. I wouldn’t harm her. Hell, if I’d wanted to hurt her, I’d have given her a rather personal and irritating rash.

“I’ve never been so insulted in my life.” Vera stood, knuckles white as she gripped her pocketbook like I might reach over the counter and swipe it from her. “You can be assured that I will spread it far and wide that you are a shoddy warlock. No one with any standing will use your services again.”

I smiled, my grin far from pleasant. “Go ahead, Mrs. Livingston. You saw the sign on your way into the store. Cameras are on and operational for your protection. I’ve got everything recorded and happily sitting in the cloud. If you wanna besmirch my reputation, I’ll be happy to return the favor. I wonder what Mr. Livingston will say when he finds out you want me to create a spell that will give him a heart attack as he’s fucking his mistress. Moreover, I wonder what the police will have to say about that. Shall we find out?”

Bright spots of color filled Vera’s cheeks with rage. It was a good thing she wasn’t a witch. Human bravado always amazed me. They still hadn’t gotten the memo that they were the lowest species in the pecking order. Nothing I did or said today would change that. Fairies knew that better than anyone.

With her cheeks puffed out, Vera Livingston looked about two seconds away from a stroke. The way things were going, it wouldn’t be my head and brain matter we’d need to contact Muriel to clean.

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