Page 1 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

NIRGAL

Nirgal

Darkness.

The long centuries had become little more than an unending night.

Standing in said darkness, Nirgal stared at the limestone walls of his crypt.

It had changed little over the years. Nirgal saw no need for such decorative frivolities.

An empty hearth sat along one wall and Nirgal couldn’t remember the last time fire called it home.

It’s spent ashes had long ago been removed.

Lighting a fire now would only pay tribute to a version of himself long gone.

The cold seeping into his marrow was as constant as the dark.

Nirgal didn’t remember the darkness bothering him before.

At least, not like it did now. Life—if you could call his existence that—was mundane, having long lost any of its exceptional qualities.

Even blood had lost its appeal. He hardly needed to partake of more than a sip every few weeks, and even that seemed tedious now.

Gashan had tried engaging him since their return to the old country.

Nirgal’s nestlings seemed two parts concerned and one part curious.

It was to be expected considering Nirgal hadn’t found it necessary to leave his crypt in over a century, let alone cross the vast Atlantic Ocean.

The Vampire Council was seldom called upon these days.

Fairy law had toned down many vampires need for more —not that it had diminished the desire, only the will to act upon it.

Compared to how things used to be, vampires were downright predictable these days.

On the rare occasion the Vampire Council was still required, Nirgal’s personal presence was hardly needed.

Gashan, Cassius, and the others were more than capable of dispatching troublesome vampires.

And then there was Lucroy Moony and his beloved pixie, Peaches.

The mere thought of the fortunate pair warmed Nirgal’s frigid blood.

Despite his current melancholy, the trip to North America had been worth it.

Finally, after centuries of misinformation and fear, a vampire was brave enough to drink from his pixie beloved.

The reward… Nirgal barely contained his jealousy.

Such a human emotion was not becoming of a vampire of his age.

Nirgal’s diminutive, yet powerful fingers clenched, his deadly talons pushing at his fingertips.

Did Lucroy understand how fortunate he was?

A pixie beloved and sprites! A vampire’s world no longer darkened by the sun’s displeasure during the day.

The endless night alight with a colony of sprites, as if the heavens had descended to the Earth.

Nirgal hadn’t realized how dead and faded his nest had become until he visited the Southeastern King.

The chateau wasn’t dilapidated. His nestlings kept it clean and orderly.

The furnishings, artwork, and other trinkets were the best quality, the most expensive, and the most ostentatious available. Beauty and envy weren’t the problem.

Cold. His nest was cold. Nirgal did not mean that in the literal sense of the word, although he wasn’t certain if the chateau above his underground home was physically warm or not.

The space held no life. Perhaps that was a foolish sentiment considering the chateau housed a nest of vampires and an occasional blood donor.

Foolish or not, Nirgal had keenly felt the lack of life after his return from across the ocean.

The feeling was so intense it had spurred him to instigate unusual measures.

Nirgal could easily remember the look of abject horror on Cassius’s face when he asked him to send out an advertisement for a home-and-hearth pixie.

Nirgal couldn’t fault Cassius’s doubt. His nestling’s opinion had proven accurate as they had not had a single application to the job listing.

It would have been a long shot even before news broke regarding King Moony’s beloved.

Pixies were, understandably, even warier of vampire intentions now.

Any pixie would be beyond reckless not to be.

Perhaps it was time admit it was a ridiculous whim and rescind the listing.

The thought increased Nirgal’s melancholy.

What was the point to so much time? He’d lived centuries—watched leaders come and go, seen the world’s mapped lines change hands too many times to count, and witnessed unending suffering.

He’d once thought himself beyond such concerns.

The problem wasn’t that he was wrong, but how utterly right he was.

A slow blink briefly shuttered Nirgal’s crimson eyes. The thin, nearly translucent skin of his eyelids were useless against even the barest hint of light. Perhaps that was why he found himself so drawn to the dark.

Once upon a time, that thought would have drawn a sigh. The action was yet another leftover human habit as Nirgal no longer needed to draw breath. A quiet knock sounded at his door, barely pulling Nirgal’s attention away from the crumbling limestone that held the earth at bay.

“Come,” Nirgal answered, the word nearly as cold as the borrowed blood sluggishly moving through his veins.

“Nirgal?” Gashan’s tone was cautious. “It is time for you to feed. ”

Nirgal wanted to be irritated by the reminder. He wasn’t a child and should be more than capable of feeding himself. Experience proved otherwise.

“Shall I bring your meal?” Gashan politely pressed, her words carefully chosen and tone irritatingly devoid of emotion. “I have already waited two days longer than wise. If you don’t feed soon, you run the risk of inducing another incident .”

Nirgal’s lips thinned before stretching across his overly wide and elongated fangs. Suppressing a low growl, Nirgal managed to keep the sarcasm from his voice as he answered, “We would not want that.”

“No, sir. You are too important to this nest and the rest of the vampire community. The last time you went into a deep sleep we were barely able to wake you.”

Nirgal doubted his importance to the vampire community . Fear, not affection, was the general emotion his presence garnered.

“If you must,” Nirgal finally answered. “Leave it outside the door.”

“Sir, I am not certain that is a good—”

“Leave it.” Those two words were more growl than discernible language.

Briefly losing control, Nirgal felt his vampiric prowess reach deep into Gashan’s body, holding her tight and commanding her actions.

Realizing his slip, Nirgal quickly released his nestling.

“Apologies, Gashan.” The fact he could affect a vampire of Gashan’s age spoke to how ancient Nirgal had become.

“I will retrieve your meal,” Gashan responded, politely ignoring his slip.

Nirgal felt Gashan’s energy drift away from his door, her body moving higher into the chateau rising from the ground above. His nestlings had long ago moved above ground during the evening hours. Nirgal hadn’t felt the need and even now wasn’t certain that was the pressure clawing at his chest.

Gliding across his stone floor, Nirgal’s toes dug into the sheep skin rug that covered a large portion of his home.

There was but a single chair situated beside an overbearing four-poster bed.

The size of the thing seemed to mock Nirgal’s smaller, singular frame.

He could not recall the last time another shared that enormous space. It was worse than wasteful.

Lowering his body, Nirgal barely took note of the cool leather surface of the chair.

Well worn, the leather was buttery soft against his thin skin.

Leaning his head back, Nirgal felt Gashan’s unique energy signature as she drew closer to his closed door.

The faint clink of glass on stone met his ears as she set his liquid meal on the floor.

Gashan hesitated for thirty, maybe forty seconds before she turned and retreated.

A wry hint of a grin twisted Nirgal’s lips.

There was a reason Gashan had managed to live so long.

Nirgal knew he should stand, that he should head to the door and drink the offered blood before it cooled.

Gashan would have retrieved the blood straight from the source.

Letting it sit was wasteful, and yet Nirgal could not make his body stand.

Instead, he sat there, staring into the dark, wondering why he had suddenly been cursed by this hated pressure slowly eating away at what was left of his pitiful heart.

“ S ir.” The knock was hesitant. Even if Nirgal hadn’t been able to tell the difference in his nestlings’ energies, he would have known it was Cassius at his door. Gashan approached his door with confidence. Cassius approached with caution.

Nirgal’s eyelids drifted open, taking far more effort than was typical.

He’d been foolish and ignored the food sitting outside his door.

How long had it been since Gashan had left the offering?

Nirgal didn’t know. He’d long ago lost sense of time.

It could have been minutes, hours, or perhaps days.

Nirgal doubted Gashan would have allowed a week to pass.

Nirgal’s eyes slipped closed again. Would it be so bad to drift into nothing? To never wake again?

“Sir.” Cassius’s tone amplified, gaining in strength when Nirgal failed to answer. “I apologize for bothering you, but we have a…situation.”

A rare spark of interest lifted Nirgal’s lids once more. “ Situation? ” The word was barely more than a whisper. Cassius didn’t need volume to hear.

“There is a witch at the door,” Cassius clarified, and Nirgal’s burgeoning interest quickly faded.

“I am hardly needed for such an event,” Nirgal murmured, his mind already fading back into blissful sleep.

“Understood, but this witch comes bearing a gift. Of sorts.” Cassius sounded oddly confused. When Nirgal failed to show more interest, Cassius continued, “The gift is from King Lucroy Moony and his beloved, Peaches.”