Page 70 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
I wanted to slap my forehead at their short-sightedness. “But you carry her genes. If either one of you have a daughter, then she’ll most likely—”
“If I knock a chick up and she has a girl, then that’s on her,” Sage answered. Evidently agreeing, Jessop nodded his approval.
I’d had very little interaction with Sage and Jessop while Jamila had been alive. It was far more common for witches to birth female children. Males were rare. They didn’t abandon them like warlock fathers abandoned their necromancer children. Males were loved, and although they didn’t inherit their mother’s abilities, they tended to enjoy extended lives. I had no idea how that worked, only that it did.
Jamila loved her sons. Of that, I was certain. She’d brought them with her when they were younger. As they grew and reached their teenage years, she brought them less and less until it was simply her alone again. She’d rarely spoken of her children. In fact, as Jamila aged, she’d spoken less and less. She would come and sit at my roots. Often spending hours staring across the grassy field and into the nearby woods.
Lilibeth began accompanying her, and Jamila spoke with her friend, but those occasions were still far less than when she came alone. By then, the tears had stopped, as had the bruises. The melancholy remained.
Now, faced with the malice radiating from her flesh and blood, I believed I understood where that well of sadness stemmed from. What I couldn’t understand was why she’d left the land to them in the first place. Maybe she’d held out that sliver of hope that they’d find the same level of peace here that she had. Maybe she hoped they’d change. Maybe…I was running out ofmaybes.
Kicking the envelope back toward my unwanted visitors, I said, “Take this and leave. If you have any further questions, you can contact my lawyer.” Let Hamish deal with this idiocy. He’d put them in their place faster than anything I could do.
Sage’s grin was far from pleasant. “Oh, is that how you think this is going to go?”
My heart sped. It was probably stupid that I was just now feeling the first inkling of fear. “I think that’s exactly how it’s going to go,” I bravely answered.
Bending low, Sage kept his eyes locked on mine as he reached down and picked up the envelope. Slowly rising, his eyes were shards of inky black. “Jessop might not know what a dryad is, but I do.” Sage scoffed. “There’s nothing scary about you. You’re weaker than a merehumanand far more docile.” Thumbing over his shoulder, that horridly wicked smirk was back when he said, “I’ve got an axe in the back of my truckthat I ain’t afraid to use. And if that’s not enough, then I’ve got a couple of friends with chainsaws who wouldn’t blink an eye at taking down a cherry tree.”
My lips parted as my heart fiercely pounded. “I am a sentient being. That would be murder.”
Jessop shrugged. “They’d have to find you first. A good woodchipper would do the job.”
Stunned to silence, I stood there as Sage tapped the edge of the manilla envelope against my chest. “Think about it. If you’ve got any brains in that dryad head of yours, you’ll tell that fancy lawyer of yours to drop the case.” Sage’s eyes tracked the empty land. “This will look a lot better when those apartment buildings go in. Have a good night, dryad.” Sage spat my species name like it was a joke.
Jessop followed his brother, walking over the hill and toward what I imagined was an awaiting vehicle. I didn’t realize I was shaking until an hour later. I’d been in a daze of confusion and muddled fear.
Dropping to the ground, I blinked back unshed tears. There was no way I was reverting back to my tree form. Not with the threat of dismemberment hanging in the air.
The next morning found me standing in Hamish McIntyres’s empty office once more. I swear the bell on the reception desk was silently mocking me. I’d lost count of the times I’d crossed the floor, pacing back and forth. My legs were wobbly, and my body exhausted from worry and lack of sleep. I’d been up all night thinking and still couldn’t figure out what to do.
I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to keep fighting. But was it worth my life? Maybe Sage and Jessop had only offered up empty threats, but Ididn’t think so. There was something in the malicious gleam of their eyes that told me those threats were brimming with intent.
Glancing again at the quiescent bell, I reached out only to pull my hand back at the last second. Would Hamish come with only a single ring? He’d been so irritated that I rang the thing multiple times before. I had no idea how the bell summoned him. As Sage had unfortunately pointed out last night, dryads didn’t have a lot of magical juice. Our magic was in our transformative abilities. What was I supposed to do? Throw cherry blossoms at them? Swat them with my twiggy arms? Fat lot of good that would do if they had an axe or, Gaia forbid, a chainsaw.
My body shivered at the thought. I’d considered contacting Lilibeth. I knew she liked me, and she’d loved Jamila as a friend. Had Jamila talked to Lilibeth about her sons? I wondered if Lilibeth knew what heathens they’d turned out to be. She’d be infuriated to hear what they’d said. Not only to me, but about Jamila herself.
But what could a brownie legally do? Currently, the land was still in their names. Had they wanted, they could have kicked me off last night. I’m not sure if they simply didn’t consider it or if that was too low of a threat level. There was a chance that neither of them knew that I wouldn’t survive without access to the soil I’d been born into. I didn’t need it every day, but I did need it. I’d heard that some dryads scooped out heaping piles of earth to cart around with them so they could travel. That allowed more leeway, but one always had to come back to the blessed earth they’d first gained sentience within.
It was the same with born dryads. Their parents were particular with where they first allowed their children to spread their roots. It was an important decision that no dryad parent took lightly.
No. I didn’t want to involve Lilibeth. It might get her introuble with Fairy law and that was the last thing I wanted. I would not be responsible for an ensuing war between Fairy and brownies.
As my stress levels rose, my control lessened. The scent of cherry blossoms filled the air, and when I looked down, my fingers had transformed into twigs. With a heavy sigh, I flicked my hands, scattering blossoms and leaves as my woody structure reverted to pink flesh.
My blossoms scattered in the air, drifting down to the floor. All but one. That one had a much more targeted projection. My hand shot out, ready to grab the petals, but it was too late. That single blossom landed on the bell, atingreverberating through the air that sounded far louder than it truly was.
I squinted my eyes. Hamish hadn’t come after a single ring the last time. There was no reason to believe he’d do so now. He was probably busy and—
“I do not remember a scheduled appointment,” Hamish’s cool, calm voice said. The hint of arrogance always coating his words was still present, and while I’d found it irritating before, today I found that confidence comforting.
“We, uh…we didn’t have anything planned.” I twisted my fingers together. Had they been branches, I would have become hopelessly entangled.
“I see.” Hamish was silent before he asked, “Is there a reason you called for me?”
I tried waving off his question. “Oh, not really. I just… Ringing the bell was kind of a mistake actually. I’m still trying to decide if…” I didn’t know what to say. I was truly torn.
Oddly rubbing his chest, Hamish’s eyes narrowed. It was amazing being on the receiving end of that intense gaze. “Amistake? How can one mistakenly ring a bell? It does not ring itself.”
