Page 5 of Perfectly Charmed Pixie

I thought there would be more verbal accusations. Instead, Vera turned on her expensive heel and headed out the door. She tried slamming it, but the door’s mechanics didn’t allow it.

It took a few minutes for my shoulders to relax lower than the edges of my earlobes.

“That went well.” Byx climbed on the stool I’d placed for her, allowing the small brownie a few feet in height. She still only came to my shoulder. “You want me to call the other shops, give the witches and warlocks there a heads-up?”

I grunted. “Don’t bother with the witches. Vera seems to think that’s a lost cause.”

“Idiot,” Byx grumbled. “I can think of at least three off the top of my head that might do what she’s asking. On the down-low, of course.”

“Of course,” I parroted.

There was a slight pause before Byx asked, “She really want to off her husband?”

I rubbed my stubbled chin, realizing I needed a shave. “Possibly. Mostly I think she just wants to give him a good scare. She’s got it in her brain that if he has a medical emergency while intimately engaged with one of his mistresses, it might make him rethink his actions.”

“Moron,” Byx offered up this time. “Please tell me the ring Mamma gave you didn’t react to that human. Sweet goddess, that would be a nightmare.”

I double-checked the silver ring wrapped around my left index finger. The stone within remained pitch-black, the only color it had ever revealed. Sometimes I wondered if Byx’s mother, Georgiana, had been full of shit when she gave it to me.

“Still dark as night,” I answered, relief clear in my tone.

Byx shivered, and I struggled not to do the same. “Can you imagine being tied tothatfor the rest of your life?” Byx pointed toward the empty doorway, indicating the way Vera had exited. “I know they say finding your one and only is every warlock’s dream but…” Byx shivered more violently, unable to complete the thought, let alone the sentence.

“Well, thank Gaia, Vera Livingston isn’t my one and only.”

I stared at the quiescent ring, a final gift from Byx’s mother. Guilt ate at me. Georgiana had been dying from a disease that depleted her magic at the time. Warlocks and witches twisted magic, honed and refined it to a finite purpose. But some speciesweremagic, and brownies were among the most magical. Georgiana hadn’t been able to survive without magic, and no amount of spellcraft changed that. Most likely, Georgiana had used up a few precious days of life crafting the ring innocently perched on my finger.A final gift, she’d said,from one with the sight.

Byx’s contemplative voice interrupted my personal guilt trip. “Why doesn’t she just divorce him? I don’t get why humans have to make things so complicated. Marriage isn’t like mating or bonding. That shit’s for life. It’s a magical connection that can’t be broken no matter what. But marriage is just a piece of paper. I mean, I get it if it’s a religious thing. Some humans don’t want to offend their god with divorce, but a lot of others… That’s not the motivation.”

“No idea. Thankfully, I’m not human.”

I left Byx standing there, staring at the front door as I turned and made my way back to the office. I needed and deserved a beer after that ordeal. My oversized, under-stuffed, cracked, faded leather chair sat in its usual corner, begging me to sit my ass down. I didn’t argue. Thankfully, I’d taken a good-sized swig of my drink. Otherwise, it probably would have spilled out the top.

“Just out of curiosity, how much did she offer?” Byx eased around the doorframe, hands clasped behind her back and a regretful look marring her face. Clearing her throat, she toed a piece of ragged carpet. “I’m just asking because…you know, the rent on this place isn’t cheap, and—”

“Rent’s just money. What Vera Livingston asked me to do would have cost my soul a hell of a lot more than cash.” I tipped my amber bottle, sucking down two-thirds before pulling it away from my lips.

“I get it.” Byx moved farther into the room. She had her own chair. The steps leading up to the elevated seat were haphazard, but being a brownie, Byx was all grace when she clambered into position across from me. “Really, I do,” she reiterated while pushing a section of dark brown hair off her forehead. Typically, Byx wore clips to hold it back. I wasn’t sure where they’d gone to today.

I stared over the edge of my beer and reassured, “I’ll get the money.” I wasn’t entirely sure how. Or, at least, I didn’t know how I’d get the money for rent and still have enough to feed my beer habit. Things worked out. They always did.

“I know.” Byx stared at her fingernails. “You know, I could always offer—”

“No.” I sat forward, slamming what was left of my drink on the floor. “Absolutely not. You’re too young and still in training.” I refused to allow Byx to start hocking her brownie wares. “I made a promise to your mamma, and I don’t intend to break it.”

Georgiana would crawl out of her grave and give me a dressing down my ego wouldn’t be able to handle if I allowed her underaged and magically underdeveloped daughter to charge for brownie services. Byx showed great promise as a healer, but it took time and age for brownies to wield that kind of magical power without backlash.

The bottom line was Byx was twenty years too young.

Byx didn’t see it that way. Crossing her arms, she huffed, “I’ve got plenty of juice.”

“I’m not arguing that, and you damn well know it.” Scooting forward, elbows planted on my knees, I gave Byx my full attention. “Look at me.”

When Byx’s eyes remained downcast, I placed a finger under her chin and lifted it, forcing her big brown eyes to gaze into my hazel ones.

“I know you’re powerful. Another forty or fifty years and I’m gonna look like small potatoes next to you. But all that can wait. Take it from an expert, kid—don’t rush it. You only get to be young and reckless once. You let me take care of things, and you do you. I’ve got us covered. Besides, anything extra you’ve got in the tank, you need to place in the reservoir. I’m not losing you like I did your mamma.”

No one knew if the disease Georgiana died from was hereditary, but I wasn’t taking any chances. With the help of a witch friend, we created a receptacle capable of holding Byx’s magic. It was a reservoir of sorts, a safety net. If Byx inherited Georgiana’s disease, we could siphon off her magic when she needed it most. I had no idea how long that would give her, but any extra time was worth it.

---