Page 14 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

GEORGIANA & VANDER

Vander

“Fix this.”

I stared at the colorful were-flamingo filling my doorframe, wondering how the charm I’d crafted went so damn wrong.

It was just supposed to enhance the were-flamingo’s pink hues, not turn them neon bright.

It also wasn’t supposed to affect their humanoid appearance.

The guy looked like a throwback to an eighties rave party.

That or he’d been out in the sun way too fucking long and gotten one hell of an interesting burn.

Shuffling my feet, I swallowed hard as my mind worked overtime. Considering the chances of fixing the issue were less than zero, I opted for the next best tactic—acting like nothing was wrong. “I don’t see the problem.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I mimicked my client’s posture.

His lips parted while his eyes comically widened.

“You…” He pointed a finger at his face. “This looks okay to you? Are you color blind?” He threw up his hands and arms, mimicking a bird in flight.

“Un-fucking-believable. I bought a color-en hancing charm from a warlock that can’t tell red from green. ”

I could go with that, or I could be an idiot and say, “I can see color just fine, and I think you got exactly what you asked for.” Yeah, I think we all knew which path I took.

“ Fine? You think this looks fine?” Given his already cherry-pink cheeks, I couldn’t tell if the guy’s face was flushed or not. I could only guess the answer given his level of anger. “I look like a fool. Worse than that. I can’t go out in public like this.”

“If you’re standing on my doorstep, harassing me, then it looks like going out in public isn’t a problem.”

His hands fisted. “You did not just say that.”

“I most certainly did.” I valiantly defended myself and the shotty charm I’d made.

Honestly, the were-flamingo was lucky a little extra color was all he’d gotten.

It wasn’t like I was a skilled warlock. “Don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.

It’s not like the color change is permanent.

” I hoped . “The effects should wear off in a week. Maybe two.” If he was lucky.

“I can’t go around looking like this for a day, let alone seven.”

“Or fourteen,” I unhelpfully answered. When he opened his mouth again, I waved him off and said, “Take a vacation.”

“I can’t fucking go anywhere,” he ground out.

“A staycation then. Everybody’s got stuff they need to get done around the house. Things you’ve been putting off. Now would be a great time to do that.”

Who knew were-flamingos could get so angry. “I purchased the charm so I’d look better for my upcoming reunion. That’s in three days.”

Sweat slid between my shoulders. “Well, they certainly won’t be able to see the gray creeping into your feathers.”

If looks could kill…I suppose I would have been dead a long time ago and saved this we re-flamingo the hassle.

“Fine,” he spat. “If you won’t fix this, then I want my money back.”

It was only a matter of time before he made that demand. “Ah, ah, ah.” I waggled a finger back and forth. “No refunds. You were made aware of that at the time of purchase.”

Dear Gaia, I thought his head might explode. “That was before I knew what a shoddy warlock you are. It was a simple color-enhancement charm. Every warlock can manage that.”

“And I did manage it, as you so politely said.” My own anger was bubbling up.

But it wasn’t anger towards my client. No, my anger was much more insidious and damaging.

It had a single target and that was my pride.

No matter how hard I tried, my charms always went sideways, typically overperforming instead of under.

One would think that wouldn’t be so bad, but a single look at the nearly magenta were-flamingo filling my door told a different story.

With a shrug, I said, “You get what you pay for.” There was a reason I didn’t charge a lot for my charms.

His mouth slammed shut, teeth clicking. Pointing an accusing finger at my chest, he said, “I’m reporting you to the Warlock Council.”

My smile was genuinely amused. “Go ahead.” The council didn’t give a shit.

He pulled back and made a bigger threat. “And what about Fairy law?”

My heart momentarily skipped a beat but soon relaxed. “They’ve got bigger concerns than charms that do no physical harm.”

“You call this no physical harm ?”

“You’re not injured, and it’s not permanent.

” Please, Gaia, let that be true . “If you want to involve Fairy in this, be my guest. But when that shit goes sideways, don’t come crying to me.

” One did not involve Fairy in minor disputes, and even when something major went down, it was good to think long and hard before running Fairy’s direction.

Fairies didn’t think like the rest of us, and their justice was swift, unforgiving, and without mercy.

I couldn’t tell if my client paled or not. I could see that my words took the wind out of his sail. “You’re really not going to do anything about this, are you?”

I internally squirmed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help, more like I couldn’t. I was afraid that any attempt I made would make the situation worse. Honest to Gaia, he was better off letting the charm run its course.

“You’re an asshole, and I’m leaving you a terrible review,” he said before turning on his heel and storming down the hall.

I leaned out, watching him turn and head down the stairs.

One of my neighbors was coming up the stairs, their eyes wide and round as they took in the bright pink blur that flew by.

Was I an asshole? Probably. Not that I particularly wanted to be, but sometimes life didn’t give you a lot of options.

“Is that the way he’s supposed to look?” my neighbor asked as they walked by.

“Fuck off, Aaron.” I slammed the door on his smirking face.

Shoulders slumped and feeling like the shit on someone’s shoe, I made my way to my crappy loveseat and dropped down, wincing when an errant spring poked my ass.

The truth was that I was a shitty excuse for a warlock.

I lived in a shitty apartment, and I had an even shittier reputation.

Elbows on my knees, I leaned my forehead into my palms as I stared at the stained, threadbare carpet.

My worn pants were soft against my skin but fell about an inch short.

The fact that I was still young enough to be growing was a clear sign that I was far too young to be out on my own, trying to push my questionable warlock wares.

The only ring I had was one my loser father had left me.

I’d had to sell everything else he owned to try and pay off his debts.

Those trinkets had barely made a dent in what dear old dad owed.

Right or wrong, the weight of that debt had fallen on my shoulders when he got himself killed.

Pounding erupted on my door, rattling the hinges.

“For the love of Gaia.” I leaned my head back and groaned. “I’m not fixing a damn thing.” Pushing myself up, less than four long strides brought me to the door. All I wanted to do was wallow in self-pity for a bit longer. I couldn’t believe the were-flamingo was back.

Ripping the door open, I said, “I’m not giving you your—” My words died on my tongue. This definitely wasn’t my client, and I definitely shouldn’t have opened the door. Not that my current guests would have let a little thing like a crappy apartment door keep them out.

My saliva felt thick and heavy as I swallowed. “How can I help you, Barney?”

Barney sounded like a nice enough name. It brought up images of someone kind and aloof.

The werewolf standing in my hall was anything but.

Most werewolves were large, broad hulking creatures.

Others were whipcord thin, lean, and mostly mean.

Most said they lived in packs, but I likened them more to gangs.

Especially when speaking of Arie Belview’s pack.

Barney stood there, something larger than a toothpick stuck between his lips.

He twirled the stick back and forth with practiced, casual ease.

I knew better. Barney was quick and went from relaxed to fist in your face in less than 0.

2 seconds. I’d felt those fists on more than one occasion and had no desire to feel them again anytime soon.

Unfortunately, what I desired and what happed were typically two very different things.

“Afternoon, Vander.” Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Barney asked, “That your handywork I saw walkin’ out of the buildin’?” His laugh was more of a low grumble. “You really are a shit warlock. You’re a fuckup, just like your dad. ”

I cringed and hated the fact I couldn’t keep the emotional pain from my expression. I’d never been good at keeping my emotions under wraps.

“What do you want, Barney?” My voice was flat but tinged with my growing anger.

Barney took notice. The stick stilled and his eyes narrowed. A flash of gold swept over his deep brown irises. “What do I always want, Vander?”

“Money I don’t have,” I answered.

Barney smirked. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you’re as dumb as everyone thinks. Personally, I think you’re not a total idiot.”

I didn’t thank Barney for the backhanded compliment. “I don’t have much.” The sad fact was that I wasn’t even lying.

Barney held out his hand. “Give me what you’ve got. I’ll be the judge of what is or isn’t much.”

I wanted to slam the door in his face and tell Barney to go to hell. My apartment might not be much, but it was all I had, and rent was due soon. Barney was here to clean me out. By the time he was gone I wouldn’t even have enough cash to buy a taco.

“Stay there,” I ordered as I walked toward my kitchen.

I kept my money—what little there was—in an empty whisky bottle.

Barney’s eyebrows rose at my command, but he was polite enough to hang in the hall.

He was here for money and if he didn’t have to bust my balls, then I got the feeling that was just fine with him.