Page 89 of Purrfectly Peculiar Pixie

Phlox

My ears rang with Phil’s wail, but that pain was nothing compared to Sedrick’s howl. That howl quickly magnified when Dillon and Ruthie joined their uncle’s horror-stricken one.

“Phil!” Peaches darted to his friend’s side. Phil was on the ground his body contorted into the fetal position, his arms wrapped around his middle and fingers balled into the fabric covering his heart.

“Phil. Baby, tell me what’s happening.” Sedrick grabbed his mate, hauling him onto his lap and holding him close. On his knees, Sedrick rocked Phil, pushing pink strands of hair away from Phil’s pale, sweaty face. Ruthie licked the sweat away while Dillon frantically paced, unsure what to do.

“Moon goddess, he’s… I can feel our bond breaking. It’s shredding, thread by thread.” Sedrick choked on a sob. His body shook as tears fell on Phil’s face. Wings limp, Phil lay there, unable to speak. Frantic trembling shook his body.

“Ambrose!” Vander screamed. “Stop this. No amount of money is worth this.” Vander pointed at Phil and his surrounding family. “You’re killing him.”

Ambrose stood there, eyes wide as he took in the fruits of his labor. The warlock almost looked shocked, as if he hadn’t expected his efforts to work this well. Or maybe he simply hadn’t contemplated what breaking a pixie bond truly meant.

A torrent of fire flew from Ray, aimed directly at Ambrose. The fire slid through Peaches’s barrier, Ray’s aim true. Janus stepped in front of Ambrose, blocking the deadly fire.

Arie Belview was the only one enjoying the scene, glee in his manic eyes. Burning wolf-bright, those eyes glowed amber. “Wishes are beautiful, especially with a djinn backing them up. Janus was instructed to protect Ambrose.”

Janus appeared curious but otherwise bored. Most of Arie Belview’s pack stood there, horrified expressions haunting their gaunt faces.

“You’re welcome to step outside the barrier.” Arie threw his hands wide. “Maybe I’ll make a different wish this time. Without Janus’s protection, Ambrose is easing pickings.”

Ambrose jumped back, eyes flying impossibly wide upon realizing he’d been demoted to bait.

“How in the hell did Ambrose’s casting get past Peaches’s barrier?” Parsnip asked Vander.

“The casting itself wasn’t aimed at an individual, but a magical bond. Peaches’s barrier probably didn’t see it as a threat.” Vander’s jaw ground and his fists tightened. I had an idea what was coming. So did Parsnip.

“Don’t you dare,” Parsnip ordered. “As soon as you step outside that barrier, you’re dead. You know that.”

“And if I do nothing, then Phil’s dead. Sedrick will follow. This is warlock business. It’s my responsibility.”

Parsnip flew high, staring Vander in the eyes. “Then I’m going with you.”

“No, you—”

“Shut up! I’m going with you.” Tears rolled down Parsnip’s cheeks. With fisted hands, Parsnip wiped them away. I stepped closer to Leon’s side. He wasn’t necessarily warm, but Leon’s touch was soothing.

“This can’t be happening,” I muttered. Leon said nothing but I caught the mutual glance he shared with Lucroy. I knew what was coming and wanted to find an argument against it but couldn’t. It was the right decision.

“I’m not letting you go out there alone either, so don’t even think about telling me to stay put,” I said before Leon could verbalize his and Lucroy’s silently brewing plan.

Leon’s lips tilted into a barely there smile. “I would not dream of doing so, beloved.”

Despite the situation, or maybe because of it, my chest warmed. “Damn right.” Blowing out a deep breath, I said, “If we’re doing this, we better get to it.”

Turning in unison, we walked to Vander’s side. Lucroy was by Leon’s side. Peaches was still by Phil’s tortured and fading body. Time was running out.

“Are we ready?” Ray asked.

“No,” Parsnip answered. “But when has that ever stopped us from doing something immensely stupid?”

“Never,” Vander answered. “Gaia, I love you,” he said, voice low.

Parsnip clasped Vander’s hand, entwining their fingers. Leon’s hand found its way into mine. Wendall was by Ray’s side, Trinket on his shoulder, gaping maw open, rows of teeth on full display.

“Feel free to rip out as many throats as you want,” Wendall instructed Trinket.

“I do not think that will be necessary. Yet.” Aurelia’s voice echoed none of the surrounding chaos and pain. “I believe this is who you want.” Aurelia stood there in her ripped jeans, combat boots, tank top and flannel shirt, one shoulder bare to the humid summer night air. Pushing Ambrose forward, the warlock stumbled, nearly falling on his knees.

---