Page 1 of Did It Have To Be Gnomes?! (Carry A Faerie #1)

Chapter One

Miles

“ T hat’s a good birdie. That’s it. Stay nice and calm, and we won’t have any problems, okay?

” I slowly stepped closer, keeping my voice as quiet and not-scary as possible.

“Oh, that’s a good girl. She’s such a good birdie.

” Okay, so I was totally using a baby voice, and I couldn’t help it.

She was so damn cute. And so damn scared. “That’s a pretty birdie.”

I lifted my net. So close. So fucking close.

Crreeeeaaaakk.

“Are you almost—”

Squaaaaaaawwk!

The firebird leapt from her perch, and I had to duck out of the way or I would’ve gotten a beak to the face and flames in my hair.

The owner of the house we were in—also known as Impatient Asshole—screamed and slammed the attic door shut. What a dick. I told him to wait downstairs until I caught the damn thing. Gah . Why was it always people who caused the most trouble? People sucked, dammit.

“It’s okay, birdie.” I winced. She was so not okay. Fuck you, Impatient Asshole.

The poor bird was squawking away and flying in a circle around the small space.

Her gorgeous red and orange wings had small flames at the ends of her feathers, and I winced every time her wings brushed close to the attic ceiling—the wooden attic ceiling.

She was almost too big to even turn in here, but unfortunately for her, I already sealed up all her exits so she had nowhere to go.

I could’ve scared her out of hiding before sealing things up, but then she would’ve just gone into someone else’s house or to the nearby park, and those weren’t safe places for her.

They say firebirds bring good luck, especially if you had one of their feathers. But all that meant was that she was in danger of people hunting her down and plucking all her feathers out—as crazy as that sounded, I’d seen it done before. Many times.

And from the scars on her back where her feathers hadn’t grown back, I was pretty sure she’d already suffered at the hands of humans because of that tale.

Whether it was true or not, I didn’t know, because I wasn’t an asshole who’d pluck an innocent bird’s feathers out for something as ridiculous as good luck.

I mean, what the hell did good luck even mean?

Would it bring you riches and power? Or did it mean that when you were walking down the street, you didn’t step on the chewed-up piece of gum and get it stuck to your shoe? It could be anything in between. How would you even know it was working?

Stupid, sucky people.

So no, I would never ever in a million years pluck one of her feathers. Never.

But she didn’t know that. She saw me as the same predator that’d hurt her before.

No wonder she didn’t trust me.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not gonna hurt you,” I cooed to the firebird, but it made no difference.

She just kept flying in circles and even squawked at me, the poor baby.

Plus, for all I knew, she’d had run-ins with other exterminators, most of whom would’ve tried to kill her to get her out of someone’s home or business, despite their endangered species status and the fact that legally, they were supposed to do catch and release.

I knew a lot of the exterminators in this city didn’t give even one shit about that fact. It infuriated me.

But I wasn’t like other exterminators.

Yeah, I got paranormal creatures out of people’s homes, but I was a trap and release kind of guy.

I didn’t do poisons or kill traps, no matter how much easier—and cheaper—that would be for me.

The thought of killing hundreds or even thousands of little creatures every week was absolutely horrifying and not something I had an interest in. Ever .

I’d take less money over murder.

But that was just me. Unfortunately, I was the only trap and release place anywhere in my entire county. Because again, my mantra—people sucked.

“Come on, girl. It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

She squawked again and flew in a faster circle, and I sighed. Apparently, my voice was freaking her out even more. This poor sweetheart.

This time when I spoke, I tried to let my natural magic ooze into my words. Empathy magic tended to have a calming effect, as long as I was calm when I was releasing it.

“Look, I know you don’t know me, but I know you can sense my magic. Can’t you tell I’m a friend of your kind?”

I did my best to push my power out, letting it seep around the room and fill it up so she could sense me and my intentions.

I’m not going to hurt you. I’m safe. I’m a friend.

I did my best to make my magic translate my intentions, and after a few seconds, she slowed her frantic flying and stopped screaming like a lunatic.

“That’s a girl. There we go. Come over here, sweetheart.” I held out my arm where I already had a bird glove on. This didn’t always work, but I was hoping she’d land so I wouldn’t have to use my net. I hated using it because it scared the supernatural creatures.

After one more circle around the attic, she gently landed on my arm, and I blew out a breath of relief, smiling at the sweet baby.

“That’s a good girl,” I cooed, using my other gloved hand to pet around her neck. I wasn’t about to let my skin touch her, or I would’ve had a whole new issue to deal with.

I was an empath.

Unfortunately.

Super freaking unfortunately. Because, that’s right, people sucked.

I could reach out with my magic and sense another’s emotions and usually the intention or reasoning behind those emotions. But if I touched a person—or an animal or supernatural creature—I had zero control over my power and that person’s emotions came flooding in like a goddamn monsoon.

I had a love-hate relationship with my power, and as much as it was an inconvenience sometimes, it had also helped me a lot in the past. And I’d been living with it my whole life, so wearing gloves and being careful around others was second nature.

It just sucked that I couldn’t get a good cuddle when I really wanted it. Not unless I wanted to know exactly what my cuddle-partner was feeling.

The firebird leaned into me, and I relaxed further. If she trusted me enough to let me pet her, I could likely put her right inside the transfer cage. If I could, I’d let her sit on my shoulder while I drove to the sanctuary, but that was way too risky.

No one wanted a huge bird with a forty-inch wingspan flapping in their face while they were driving—forty inches plus fire. Nope, no way.

Plus, she’d likely touch the skin on my neck or face, and nope. I had enough anxiety in my everyday life, I didn’t need this pretty bird’s on top of it. Reading someone’s emotions while driving was a bad idea all around and would absolutely end in a car wreck.

So I’d have to put her in the transport cage and throw a cloth over it to keep her calm.

It was the best I could do. But once we made it to the sanctuary, she’d be happier than ever.

And safe. No one would ever be able to steal her feathers or try to remove her from her home.

Maybe she’d even meet other firebirds there and make friends.

They were rare enough that I wasn’t sure what the chances were, but I could hope.

“That’s a pretty girl. You’re such a good girl, yes you are.” I took a few minutes to pet her because I wanted to and to check her over. She was skinny, missing feathers, and looked a little rough.

But firebirds were still always beautiful, even in this condition. Her red and orange feathers were bright and shiny. So I was pretty sure she was healthy overall, just a little bit underfed… yet another reason to take her to the sanctuary.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s get in the cage and get out of here.”

I walked over to the cage, and as I started to put her inside, she leaned into me and nuzzled against my chest. It was the absolute sweetest, cutest, most adorable thing ever.

And of course, it made me feel guilty for trying to cage her. Shit.

I didn’t have much of a choice. It was the only way I could get her to a safe place.

But gah! What a cutie pie. Now I just wanted to take her home with me.

A snort came out at that thought. Having a bird who could literally turn into a fireball inside my house seemed like a really bad idea. I mean, imagine what would happen to my curtains. And my furniture. Yikes.

So with that in mind, I gently placed her in the cage, gave her another pet, locked the cage door, and covered it with a black cloth. She was quiet and calm, so I figured I’d done a good job with my magic, and I went about cleaning up my tools.

My large net was in the corner of the attic on the floor, so I bent over to pick it up. I lifted the net, and two tiny, beady eyes stared back at me.

“Meeeep?”

“Ahhh!” A startled yelp escaped me as I scrambled backward and watched in horror as the little gross creature wearing a turquoise hat screamed in fear, turned around, showing me its bare ass, and made a run for a tiny hole in the wall.

Even after it dove inside, my heart beat frantically, and I shuddered in disgust. Blech, blech, blech. Ugh. Whhhhyyy did that thing have to be in here with me? For fuck’s sake.

Gnomes.

I trembled in revulsion.

Blech.

Uggggghhh.

They were so fucking gross.

I had no clue why anyone would ever call those things cute.

And yet, nearly everyone did.

How was a three to four inch tall, tiny, roundish-human-like creature with a long beard, round nose, and tiny beady eyes cute?

They weren’t cute.

They were creepy as fuck.

“What the fuck? Where’d you even come from, little varmint?” I shuddered again. “Bleeeeeechhh.”

Remembering that where there was one, there were twenty more, I held the net to my chest and frantically turned in a circle, searching for more beady eyes staring at me.

I didn’t see anymore.

But that just meant they were good at hiding.

“Fuck. I need to get out of here.”