Page 23 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
“I can barely take care of myself, Georgiana. How do you—”
“Hush. You’ll do just fine. She’ll be safe with you.”
Those fingers tightened around mine. “I don’t—”
“I do. Trust me. Trust my sight. You love her.”
“As if she were my own,” he answered, words choked with emotion.
“Byx loves you too. She’s special. Others will come for her.They’ll try and use her magic. You can’t let them do that. Only you can protect her—from others and herself.” I felt myself frowning. “There’s a chance…she might be like me. This horrible disease might be inside her too. You have to make sure she doesn’t wind up like me. You have to—”
“I’ll do everything I can. I’ll lay waste to anyone that touches a hair on her head, and I’ll figure out a way to beat this shit.”
My lips twisted into a fond grin. “I know you will. That’s why I’m leaving her with you. That’s why I chose you, Vander.”
I felt wetness land on our clasped hands and knew they were his tears. Those tears continued falling, soaking my hands and arms with their sorrow. They wouldn’t stop falling, they wouldn’t…
“—iana. Georgiana! Come back to me.”
I snapped out of the vision as sound came roaring back. Static assaulted my ears, and my body shook with the force of Lilian’s jostling. “Come on, sweetie,” Lilian coaxed. She stopped shaking me, cupping my cheeks instead. I blinked and slowly her large, worried brown eyes came into focus. “Ah, there you are.” She blew out a grateful breath before wrapping me up in her arms. “You were gone too long this time.”
My body shook within Lilian’s embrace. This visionhadbeen longer. It lasted long enough to get a name. Vander.
“Can you tell me about it?” Lilian asked as she pulled away, putting me at arm’s length. At some point we’d fallen to the ground. I could only assume Lilian had followed my downward plight.
I swallowed and shifted my eyes. Depending on your point of view, I’d either been gifted or cursed withthe sightas my species termed it. Thank every merciful being I wasn’t an oracle. But I did get snatches of the future. Since Byx’s birth, those visions had turned darker. I would follow in my mother’s footsteps. The cursed disease that took her from me would take me from Byx. I had no idea how old she would be whenthat happened. All I knew was that she would not be old enough to be on her own, and for reasons I couldn’t completely fathom, I would leave her in the care of someone I’d yet to meet.
My gaze tracked back to my grandmother’s, and just like every other time, I didn’t have the heart to tell her she would one day watch me fade, just like she’d had to watch her own daughter die.
Sifting my fingers through Lilian’s dark brown hair, I smiled and said, “It was about the warlock again.” That was all I’d ever mentioned.
“And you’re certain that’s what they are?” Lilian pulled back, finally releasing me.
I nodded. “More certain than ever. His fingertips were blacker this time.” He was younger in many of my visions, his fingers barely tipped in black. Warlock’s fingertips darkened as they aged, just as their hair whitened. I’d had enough visions of this warlock—Vander, I reminded myself—that I knew we were destined to meet when he was very young. Too young.
Lilian exhaled loudly. “I hate when the sight hits you.” Pushing herself up, Lilian held out a hand and helped me stand. My legs were still shaky, but I managed. “So few of us have the sight, and that is a blessing to be certain.”
Brushing off her apron, Lilian went back to the sink, finishing her dishes. “Byx is still asleep. You can probably nab her and get home with her none the wiser.”
“Thank you.” I leaned in and kissed my grandmother’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow when I drop Byx off.”
Lilian waved me away. “She’s a joy to have around.”
Byx was a child and wasn’t always such ajoy,but I understood what Lilian meant. Even on her worst days, I wouldn’t trade my daughter for the world.
Vander
This was a shit idea.I stared up at the casino’s flashing lights. Troll-owned and operated, The Dancing Pixie was a disreputable business if ever there was one. The name was creatively deceiving. Not that there weren’t pixies dancing—or at least their version of dancing. Pixies flew and flittered about. The dust their wings released was noxious and made anything that required air sneeze.
That was the downside of pixie dust. The upside was that it was beautiful. Pixies were pretty, and their colorful dust was damn near mesmerizing. You wouldn’t find a home-and-hearth pixie or nature pixie inside. This wasn’t their idea of a good time. Social pixies on the other hand… They lived for this shit.
The door had a huge sign that said,Pixie Dust on Premises. No Ogres Allowed. Considering I wasn’t an ogre, I opened the door. The throb of music made my blood vibrate in time to its bass. Colorful light assaulted my eyes and instantly gave me a headache. The pixies were toward the ceiling. Their flight patterns were eye-catching. Their many colors mixing together as dust wafted down, only to dissipate and dissolve into nothing before hitting the patrons below.
Their loose-fitting, silken clothing made them appear nearly ethereal. No wonder there was a sign on the door. While nearly all the dust dissipated before hitting the floor, there was no guarantee all of it would. One whiff of that stuff would instantly get an ogre addicted. From what I understood, getting an ogre off the stuff was near torture. While outlawed under Fairy law, pixies were still captured, kept for their dust until their colors faded…and their will to live along with them.
A shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t imagine being caged. My life might be shit, but it wasn’t as bad as all that.
Pulling my eyes from the distracting pixies above, I made my way to the bar. “I’ll take a burnt rum if you’ve got it,” I ordered. I didn’t have a lot of cash on me, but I could afford a drink or two.
