Page 16 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

“It is the way of things,” Lilian attempted to comfort me.

“All brownie parents have the same fears.” Lilian chuckled.

“You should have seen your momma when you were on the edge of transporting. I thought she’d pace a hole in the floor.

” Lilian’s laughter faded and sadness filled its space.

“Your momma loved you with her whole heart.”

I wrapped my arm around my grandmother. “I know. ”

“She never would have left you if she had a choice, and she would have been so damn proud of Byx. She would have loved that child as if she were her own.” Lilian’s head lowered as she stared into the dishwater. “Magical fading. It’s a curse upon our species.”

It was that and more. It was theorized magical fading was a hereditary disease.

No one was certain. If that were the case, then the disease often skipped generations.

My mother had been afflicted and one of my great-uncles had died of the same thing.

It was one of the few diseases brownies suffered from.

Brownies weren’t immortal, but we lived very, very long lives, and it was difficult to judge a brownies’ age by looks alone.

My grandmother was four hundred and twenty-two years older than me, and most other species often confused us as sisters.

My head swam and I gripped the counter. Lilian’s voice sounded distant, fading into the background as a vision crowded out the here and now.

“There has to be somebody better than me.” I knew this voice. I’d heard it before. There was never a face, but the voice was deep and kind. Worry mixed with pain filled those cautious words.

“There’s not. She belongs with you,” I said. My words weak. This vision was nearly always the same. I knew the dialogue by heart.

Strong hands gripped my smaller ones. His long fingers were barely tipped in black, and three rings decorated his left hand. I knew one was my doing. A stone sat there, quiescent for now. It was a final gift, one I’d used the last of my magic to create.

“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 vision had been 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 with the sight as 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 when that 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 a joy, but I understood what Lilian meant. Even on her worst days, I wouldn’t trade my daughter for the world .

V ander

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.

A were of some kind or another was behind the bar.

My warlock senses were shit at telling the difference.

My father told me the ability would come with time.

I had no idea if he’d fed me another line of bullshit or if that piece of advice had been honest. I suppose I’d find out as I got older.

Assuming I didn’t get myself killed before I had a chance to gain a respectable amount of white at my temples.

The were slid a glass of amethyst fluid my way. “Aren’t you a little young to be out on your own?” A single eyebrow rose, and his eyes flashed brilliant gold.

Picking up the glass, I downed the drink like a shot. Slamming the empty glass on the counter, I flipped him off before turning and heading deeper into the belly of the beast.

Slot machines dinged and sang as I walked by. Poker and blackjack tables were sparsely filled, and yet, I passed them by as well. I was after bigger game tonight. My father hadn’t taught me much, but one thing he’d made certain I knew was how to cheat at cards.

Shoulders thrown back, I walked toward a door that would either solve my problems or multiply them a thousandfold.

Two trolls flanked the door. One of them didn’t bother to acknowledge my existence. The second sneered, showing off blunt, peg-like yellowed teeth. “What have we got here? You lost, baby warlock?”

I shook my head and mustered every ounce of bravado I had left. “Not lost.” Pointing at the door, I said, “I know exactly where I am and what’s behind that door. I want in.”

The troll who’d been ignoring me barked out a laugh. “Young and stupid. ”