“Parsnip says they’re in the car.”
“Goddess, help us.” Byx rolled her eyes. “We’ll be lucky if it’s still there. Make, model, and color?”
I gave her the details of Parsnip’s car, and she took off. Less than five minutes later, she was back. “We got lucky. Car’s still there, and I found his phone. You settled enough to handle it?”
“Barely, but I don’t think there’s much risk now.” I held out my hand, and Byx handed over the phone and keys.
“What are you going to do?”
Byx hadn’t heard Parsnip’s confession. She’d only shown up when Parsnip had gotten upset and tried to leave. She might not have all the details, but Byx knew enough to realize the shit had hit the fan and I was in active clean-up mode.
“First”—I woke Parsnip’s phone up, happy to see it still had at least half a charge—“I’m going to call Divia and let her know that Parsnip’s safe and not to worry.”
“And second?”
“I’m going to call that shoddy warlock, Lance.” I grinned, already anticipating that conversation. “Lance is about to find out what a piece-of-shit warlock he really is and that his actions have consequences that can cost a hell of a lot more than money.”
Byx hopped on her toes, excitement brimming in her eyes. “Can I listen?”
I considered her request and shook my head. “Not this time, kiddo. There’s a chance I’d break my silence pact if you did.”
Byx only pouted a little. “I’ll be up front then, bored out of my mind.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Just make sure you make it clear to that smarmy warlock that whatever he did to Parsnip, he needs to stop. Tell him you’ve got a pissed-off brownie as a backup. That might tip the scales a little.”
I grinned. “It’ll tip them more than just a little, Byx. Thanks again.”
Byx’s kitten hair clips purred loudly as she turned and headed out. I didn’t wait for her to be out of hearing range when I dialed Divia’s number. She answered after the first ring. As predicted, she was worried. I reassured her the best I could, and by the time I ended the call, she’d calmed. I promised Parsnip would call later, and that seemed to mollify her.
I scrolled through Parsnip’s contacts and found Lance’s name. I hit the send button without much thought and placed the phone to my ear. Lance didn’t answer as quickly, but when he did, it was with a scratchy, high-pitched whine. This jackass didn’t even sound like a typical warlock.
“Have you had enough time to reconsider?” There was a lot of confidence in Lance’s voice—confidence I planned on running a battering ram through.
“Oh, I’ve had a lot of time to consider things, Lance.” I allowed the deep baritone of my voice to purr through the line.
“Who is this?” Lance sounded on edge, just as he should be. “Where’s Parsnip?”
“Peacefully sleeping in my bed. Exactly where he belongs.” If I had it my way, Parsnip would never sleep anywhere else.
Lance scoffed. “I didn’t take the little pixie for whoring himself out.”
My blood ran cold. “Use that phrase again when speaking of him, and I will do more than report you to the Magical Usage Council.”
Witches, warlocks, and brownies made up the majority of the Magical Usage Council, but we weren’t the only members. A siren or two had taken a position on the council in the past, and a smattering of other species whose numbers weren’t large enough to form their own oversight. Vampires governed themselves. Weres had tried, but there were just too many different types of weres, and their council disbanded centuries ago. Most of their conflicts were resolved within their own territories. Priests and priestesses basically ignored every law except fairy, and humans had created their own intricate and irrationally complicated governments and law enforcement agencies. Fairies answered to their queen.
Each and every lesser judiciary system was under fairy law. In general, fairies liked species to handle their own day-to-day squabbles. They left us to our own management until a dispute was large enough or too complicated for an individual species’ judiciary process to solve.
Weighted silence could only last so long, and Lance’s nasal sneer of disbelief soon broke ours. “Calling a pixie a whore is hardly grounds for report.” Lance acted as if that term was tossed around frequently when referring to pixies.
If that was his misconception, he was even more of an idiot than I’d originally thought. Sure, pixies dressed provocatively, but that was more their general nature. Heavy clothing was uncomfortable, and they enjoyed the feel of lighter, softer fabric. However, that didn’t mean pixies randomly slept around. Some did, but their choice of clothing didn’t equate to promiscuity.
I had no idea who’d been Lance’s teacher, but whoever it had been had either done a shitty job, or Lance was one of those individuals who simply couldn’t be taught.
Inhaling deeply, I moved past Lance’s misconceptions regarding pixie sexuality and headed into more dangerous waters. I had to choose my words carefully to avoid breaking my silence pact.
“You’re right. I doubt the Magical Usage Council would care much about name-calling. What they will take exception to is a contracted warlock blackmailing a former client, threatening to expose the charm they contracted for.”