Page 31 of Slaying With Sylphs

I scoff and slap his furry shoulder. “Are you telling me you’re turning this into a watch party?”

His cheeks go faint pink. “If you mean, am I making popcorn and inviting Alba to stand in the street with me and drink while you lift logs for the gnomes? Yeah.”

I halt and pinch his side playfully. He stomps and swishes his tail at me.

“You sneak!” I whisper-hiss. “You didn’t tell me you asked her out.”

He arcs away from my pinchy fingers and swats at me with one hand. “Well, you’ve been busy.”

“We worked together all day, Malik!” I shout, pinching him behind his horse elbow where he’s extra ticklish.

“Ouch!” he hisses, but there’s no anger in his tone. He’s the most low-key, chill monster I’ve ever met. “Fine. I asked her out for a late dinner, but we’re coming to stare at you before.”

“How romantic,” I deadpan.

Someone hails Malik from across the street. He squeezes my shoulder and then takes off at a trot across the wide fairway.

Grumbling at his nosiness while also not revealing his own secrets, I cross my arms and walk up Sycamore toward Biergarten. The new gnome village is on the left tucked between Biergarten and a newly vacant building. The space is about fifty feet wide and the same distance deep before the giant trees in this part of the forest take over. Although, if this is anything like Rainbow, the only other monster haven I’ve been in, the gnomes will take over parts of those trees as well to create tiny column-shaped shopping malls and hotels for visiting gnome families.

A tiny figure stands in the middle of the sidewalk, waving with his red hat tipped back as he stares up at me.

“You’re here and right on time too! Good! Come on, Lou!” Bellami waves me toward the gnome village. A wide sand pathway weaves from front to back, tiny clusters of building materials scattered throughout the space. The far back corner looks like it’s nearly complete. Seven or eight layers of logs topped with giant mushroom-shaped homes are arranged artfully at an angle. A singular tall streetlight illuminates the gorgeous corner.

“That’s what it’ll all look like when we’re done.” Bellami grabs my jeans leg and uses the fabric to haul himself alllll the way up my body until he can sit on my shoulder.

I glance at him with a scowl. “Hello, Bellami. Seems like the last time you crawled all over me, I reminded you that my body is not a ladder.”

“Pfft,” he snorts, crossing his arms. “You’ll survive. It’s not like I grabbed your nipple or anything.”

I slap my arms over my chest. “Oh my gods. Why would you even say that?!”

He thwaps me on the tip of my ear with his hand. “Lou, can we get moving or what? This will go a lot faster with your help.”

I eye the sand path. It’s well known about gnomes that no one is allowed within the boundaries of their village. Even though the first monster I ever met was a gnome, I never went in his village. I’m sure hitting him with my car didn’t help.

Gods, now that I think about it, I have a history of accidental monster injury. That thought in the forefront of my mind, I eye the pathway again. Gnomes protect their villages with an ancient magic to keep big monsters from stumbling into their villages and wreaking havoc.

“It’s okay,” Bellami says more gently. “We already coded the magic to let you in.”

I give him a final tentative look. “You sure you don’t want to ask more monsters to help you? I know Dirk would be happy to help, for instance. Anyone would.”

“Nope!” Bellami says with a pop of the P. “Just you, Lou. We don’t want anyone else.”

I don’t know if he means for those words to sound so heartwarming, but they do warm something inside me that’s been painfully cold for a while now.

“Okay,” I finally say, urged forward by Bellami kicking at me like he’s coaxing a wary horse over a jump. I place a tiptoe onthe sand, wincing just in case he was wrong about the magic. If he was, I’ll get shocked and thrown backward into the street. But when I place my foot flat on the path, nothing happens.

“Told ya.” Bellami sighs like we’ve been standing here for hours.

I take another step, and when nothing happens, I walk along the path, glancing at the stacks of lumber, siding and miniature shingles.

“Okay, let’s get started at the back,” Bellami directs, pointing to the finished section. “Over there. I’m tonight’s foreman, so I’ll be your boss for the next hour or so.”

Gods, I guess we’re doing this.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CONNALL

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