Page 47 of Perfectly Charmed Pixie

Divia didn’t remark on my distractedness, but she did give me a couple of glances that made me realize she’d noticed. I managed to cover pretty well with Jordon. She was one of our designers, and we’d finalized most of Lucroy Moony’s inner sanctum décor. I’d need to run it by him before we placed the final orders, but I thought I had a good handle on the vampire’s taste and couldn’t imagine he’d have trouble with anything. If Lucroy had allowed me into his underground living quarters at Dusk, that would have helped.

Lucroy hadn’t offered, and I knew enough about vampires not to ask. That wouldn’t be a part of the show—on- or off-screen.

My phone rang. My heart exploded with hope that it was Vander. But the number wasn’t one I wanted to see. It was, however, a number I needed to see.

“Parsnip,” I answered, crisp and to the point.

“Is this a good time?” Pomegranate’s tired voice slipped through.

It was a familiar tone, one that most pixies shared. Pom knew she didn’t need to hide with me. We were kindred spirits, brought together by horrific shared experiences. Pom hadn’t been imprisoned as long as me. As far as I knew, I held that record. All other pixies that had been captured by an ogre and kept that long hadn’t survived.

“You know anytime is okay.”

Pom and I’d had this conversation before. She and Parsley were the only ones I’d drop everything for. An image of Vander popped into my head, and I pushed it away. If Pom was calling, I needed to focus and give her all my attention.

“I know,” Pom reassured, “I just don’t like bothering you, and…every time I call, it’s not about anything good.”

While that was true, I didn’t blame Pomegranate. “How long this time?” I asked.

“Three weeks. Not that long in the big scheme of things, but she’s young. Her name’s Petunia. She’s a nature pixie. Pretty little lavender thing. She was just starting to fade when she was found and rescued. Her color’s already starting to return, not that she really lost much.”

Pomegranate was one of the healers that cared for me after I was rescued. A couple of brownies, Pom, and Parsley were the only ones aware of my faded colors. Out of those, Parsley was the only one who knew my colors never returned. Once retrieved, most faded pixies regain their color. I didn’t. Maybe it was because my captivity had been so long and I’d been so close to death. Another day, maybe two, and there would have only been a corpse left to retrieve and burn.

“Does she need someone to talk to?” I asked. I’d made it a point to always offer whatever help I could. Sometimes that equated to an ear to bend, sometimes a safe haven, and sometimes it was monetary.

“She does, but she also needs someplace to stay. Petunia’s embarrassed. She doesn’t know what kind of reception her family will give her. She wants to wait until her colors are fully restored. The healers think that will take seven, maybe ten days. Petunia could use a safe place to land until then. I’ve spoken with her family, and I think they’d be accepting but…”

“But Petunia isn’t convinced.”

“No. She’s scared. She’s also young, barely out of childhood. I think with a little more age, she’d have the confidence to go back, but not right now.”

I didn’t even have to think about the offer I was about to make. “I’ll call Parsley. I’m sure it will be fine.”

Parsley had taken pixies in before. After dealing with my fallout, Parse was an excellent choice. He had the patience of a pixie saint and knew all the right and wrong things to say. Petunia would be safe there, and Parsley knew how to be discrete.

There was a stigma in the pixie world about being captured. All pixie children were told horror stories—cautionary tales regarding reckless pixies who made poor decisions and paid the price. The truth was, most pixies were captured through absolutely no fault of their own. I was the exception, not the rule.

“Thanks, Parsnip. I knew you’d help.”

“Always.” And thankfully, my brother was on the same page.

“I’ll let Petunia know. She’s currently in Kansas. It won’t take much to get her out and over to Washington State.”

“I’ll call Parsley now. He’ll have everything ready by the time you get there. Let Petunia know that if she needs to talk, all she has to do is call.”

Parsley could soothe a lot of worries and fears, but sometimes you needed to speak to someone who truly understood what you’d been through.

“Will do. Thanks again, Parsnip.”

“Anytime.”

We ended the call, and I quickly pulled up my brother’s information. Parsley didn’t disappoint. He was all business. Our conversation was quick and to the point. As a home-and-hearth pixie, Parsley was a natural nurturer. He’d take excellent care of Petunia.

Ending that call also, I slumped down on a nearby chair. It was odd. I should have been exhausted. I wasn’t. Not physically. Mentally, I felt a little wiped out, but that was to be expected. Hearing about another captured pixie always tried to pull me into the dark depths of memory. It was a slippery slope, and once I started down that path, it was difficult to crawl my way back out.

I thought about calling Vander. I wanted to hear his voice. I felt unsettled, and instinct told me the quickest way to keep the dark thoughts away was Vander Kines. Phone in hand, I scrolled to his number, but just as I was about to hit the send button, my phone lit up with another incoming call. I frowned when I saw the name attached.

“Lance?” I asked, unsure if it would be the warlock or his stepbrother, Tony.

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