Page 16 of Purrfectly Peculiar Pixie

Leon didn’t seek forgiveness for his rash act. “I am pleased we are on the same page.”

Pulling my arm to my side, I narrowly avoided rubbing the tender flesh he’d touched. Tilting my head to the side, I studied this odd vampire and stated, “You’re worried.”

Leon’s apathetic mask remained firmly in place. “Worried would be a strong word. I am…concerned. I do not relish the thought of any weaker species placing themselves in such a position.”

“Weaker?” My lip twitched, my emotions battling between humor and pissed off. “Because I’m a pixie,” I flatly stated.

“I did not mean to imply pixies are incapable. Recent events have offered me the opportunity to interact with your species enough to learn you can be very stubborn and protective. However, pixies are not known for their offensive abilities. You are a peaceful species by nature.”

While that was true of most pixies, I wasn’tmost. Tapping my fingertips along the countertop, I allowed a very unpixie-like grin. “Oh, Leon. I think you’ll soon learn I’m not your average pixie.” With a flirty wink, my wings fluttered to life. Spinning, I flew in the direction of the washroom, leaving a very flummoxed vampire in my pixie dust wake.

ChapterSix

Leon

I should head home when the bar closed. I had more than ample time before the sun rose. And yet, I sat, ever the voyeur. True to his word, Lucroy and Peaches came into the bar tonight. Sedrick and Phil stopped by for a short time also. What they did not do was have more than a cursory, polite interaction with Frost. Lucroy explained that upon further consideration, he did not believe it wise. The idea was to make Frost appear an easy target and part of that plan was weaving a tale involving few interpersonal relationships. The fewer individuals there were to miss Frost, the less likely the fuss when he disappeared.

Lucroy instructed Johnny not to act too fondly toward our newest pixie addition. If anything, Lucroy said we should act dismissive, if not outright hostile toward Frost. Nothing too obvious, just enough that if anyone were watching, they’d get the impression we cared precious little regarding Frost’s comings and goings.

If only that were true.

I glanced at the clock, not that I needed an outward sign of time to reference the sun’s cycles. Over three hundred years hadn’t quelled that particular habit. Regardless, I still had time. I could stand up, walk out the door, drive home, and be comfortably in bed long before the first rays crested the horizon.

I didn’t move.

I wasn’t the only one sticking around. The bar was busy, although this time of the early morning, several species began filtering out. Most of my nestmates would stay another twenty, maybe thirty minutes before they left too. The younger vampires were often the first to leave. The sun was their boogeyman, and they were often a twitchy bunch when it came to safety. I remembered those days well and was glad I’d mentally moved past that overwhelming fear.

My gaze ticked to my left. I’d kept a weather eye on the group of three werewolves passively lounging at a table on the outer fringe of the dance floor. Although not as gluttonous as dwarves, werewolves were known to enjoy their cups. Sedrick guzzled beer as if the fount would never run dry. They had high tolerances for alcohol and generally liked enjoying themselves. These wolves barely drank one beer apiece the entire evening.

Admittedly, Dusk’s werewolf population was more anemic than most bars. Arie Belview was the alpha of the local pack and for some unfathomable reason, he didn’t like mingling with vampires. Especially, Lucroy’s nest.

Keeping my internal grin just that, I silently chuckled at Arie Belview’s discomfort. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

So, the question was why were Arie’s wolves coming into the bar now? It wasn’t always the same group. There was never just one. They came in pairs, trios, or occasionally four-packs. They were exceedingly polite for werewolves, let alone Arie Belview’s wolves. Much to Pete and Bax’s dismay, the wolves never gave our troll bouncers cause to intervene.

“That group doesn’t do my sense of calm a bit of damn good,” Johnny lamented as he sat next to me. “I don’t like it, boss-man. They’re up to something.” Johnny kept his voice low, and the blaring music helped cover his words, keeping them from sensitive werewolf ears.

“Hmm, an accurate assessment, Johnny,” I easily agreed. Maybe that was why I didn’t want to go home, why I stayed at the bar and would most likely spend another day nestled within the safety of Lucroy’s underground dwelling.

Johnny huffed. “I hate this waiting game shit. You know, I thought we were done with all that when that jackass, Arthur Stover died. Now that Aurelia’s asleep again, I’d hoped we might get a longer reprieve.” Johnny ended with a discouraged sigh.

Stagnancy was a vampire’s Achilles’ heel. It was a gentle pull, a lie that lulled one into dull complacency and before a vampire knew it, they were little more than a shell of their former self. Life lost all meaning and there was absolutely no reason to continue. Peace and quiet were the death nail of most vamps. Perhaps that is why, traditionally, we were such a brutal race. Maybe we’d been forced into that role, if only to perpetuate our second lives.

But there were different levels of peace and quiet, and I found, like Johnny, that a longer run of peace would not have been detrimental.

With the djinn on his mind, Johnny twisted a nearby napkin and said, “You know, we could ask Peaches to wake her up. He could just wish for Aurelia to find who’s in charge of this pixie trafficking ring. The whole thing would be done and over with like that.” Johnny snapped his fingers.

While Johnny’s idea held a lot of appeal, it was a dangerous road. More dangerous than our current path.

“Djinn are not a species to so callously use.”

“It’s not callous. It’s about saving lives,” Johnny rightfully argued.

“You are correct. I chose my wording poorly. What I meant is that while your thoughts have merit and sound reasonable, one cannot count on a djinn to conform to those thoughts, even a djinn as mentally stable as Aurelia appears to be. It would be a dangerous ploy and one I would not invoke unless the situation were truly dire.”

As much as I hated the idea of Frost playing bait, I feared the idea of waking Aurelia more. The djinn had seemed to be on our side last time, but there was no guarantee she’d feel the same now. While the one controlling her object of attachment held Aurelia’s leash, that tether was, at best, precarious, and at worst, little more than a wispy cloud.

The best the world could hope for was that djinn faded from memory. That they became little more than a fairy tale—something precious few believed truly existed. The more we used Aurelia’s abilities, the less likely that was to happen.

---