Page 2 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

Nirgal’s movements seemed sluggish and yet he was at the door, opening it before Cassius could finish the pixie’s name. A rare glimpse of shock widened Cassius’s eyes before he regained control of his emotions.

“A gift?” Nirgal asked, his crimson eyes scanning the area and yet seeing nothing.

Cassius retreated a step. Only slightly taller than Nirgal himself, Cassius’s red robes dusted the limestone floor. Cassius was known to go without footwear, his feet only visible when his robes were pulled higher.

“Where?” Nirgal demanded.

“At the door,” Cassius repeated. “The witch claims she will only deliver the package into your hands directly.” Had he been speaking to anyone else, likely Cassius would have been able to hide his contempt. But Nirgal was hardly any other vampire and easily caught the slip.

Nirgal’s aged heart thumped, pushing his borrowed blood sluggishly through his veins.

The second beat was quicker than usual. Nirgal’s bare toe tapped the glass of cold blood waiting in the cup Gashan had left.

While it would no doubt taste foul, Nirgal had little choice.

He needed sustenance and he needed it now.

Grasping the glass, Nirgal threw the blood back like a shot. His lips twisted in disgust, but he swallowed the fluid in one gulp. Thankfully, he did not require more.

Pushing the empty glass into Cassius’s outstretched hand, Nirgal headed down the hall to the stairs leading to the chateau above ground. He hadn’t bothered climbing the stairs since their return from Virginia.

The door leading into the chateau was large and made of solid steel. Human strength would never be able to budge the heavy impediment. Fireproof, bombproof, and damn near impenetrable, it was a work of protective art. The door, however, had nothing on the space beyond.

Centuries of collective wealth had made Nirgal’s nest want for nothing.

The furnishings inside the chateau were considered antiques, their comfort of no importance to creatures who cared little for such things.

Vampires were all about image—about collecting and making others jealous with envy.

While Nirgal rarely cared to visually take in the ostentatious quarters his nest called home, he took devious pride knowing it was there.

The plush carpet cradling his feet was a far cry from the sheepskin rug covering his own floors. Today, Nirgal’s steps were so hurried he barely felt the softness below his toes.

Mazelike, the chateau held several hallways leading to individual, cordoned-off rooms. Nirgal navigated the expanse with practiced ease. Once upon a time, he’d walked these halls with far more frequency.

Nirgal’s nestlings stood to the side, many huddled just inside the rooms he passed.

He did not acknowledge their presence. It would have caused more concern had he spoken to one of them rather than ignoring them.

The chateau was nearly silent. His vampires were holding their tongues, waiting to see what Nirgal would do, what gift had drawn his attention and demanded he accept it personally.

Honestly, the nerve of Lucroy Moony , Nirgal silently mused.

Insisting he claim ownership of this gift personally was tantamount to giving Nirgal an order.

Lucroy Moony had not lived nearly enough centuries to be so bold, and yet he had done so regardless.

Nirgal supposed he should be irritated but found his anemic emotions skewed in a totally different direction. He was…amused. And curious.

Turning down one final hall, the front door came into view. Nirgal could feel the witch’s energy, her body obscured by Gashan’s taller form as she blocked the doorway. Most likely sensing Nirgal’s approach, Gashan shifted to the side, revealing their guest.

The witch could be summed up in two words—sturdy and bright.

While the inky black of night framed her, the witch’s white-blond hair nearly glowed against the quarter moon’s pale illumination.

Her light skin was unmarred while different types of metal pierced her ears, dangled from her neck, covered her fingers, and fell from her wrists.

Gemstones of every imaginable color glinted here and there, the witch covered in a litany of charms. Her eyes were pale, nearly ice blue, matching the winter coat she’d draped over her flowing cream dress.

Stepping closer, Nirgal carefully kept a modicum of distance.

He was well aware the effect he had on others.

Eyes forever stained crimson, Nirgal appeared to be on the edge of transformation at all times.

Fangs permanently wide and longer than typical, their tips could never be hidden.

Skin so translucent the arteries and veins carrying his borrowed blood wound around his body like a roadmap of proven age.

Nirgal was a vampire like no other. Perhaps there was one older than he.

If so, Nirgal had yet to meet them. Likely if they were still alive , they had succumbed to the lasting sleep long ago.

Nirgal gave the witch credit. She barely flinched when faced with such a dangerous predator. Her gaze remained steady, never wavering from his bloody eyes.

“Ancient one,” the witch said with a slight bow. “I apologize if I am disturbing your rest.” Her voice lilted, carrying the magic she twisted with it.

“I have rested long enough,” Nirgal answered, his eyes drawn to the wooden box within the witch’s hands. It was medium sized, nearly wide enough to hide the witch’s body behind.

“I… My name is LizAnne. For complete disclosure purposes, I must tell you that I am not a member of the local coven, but they know of my presence and have granted me passage for what I’ve been charged with delivering.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” Gashan answered. “It is always best to remain on agreeable terms with our local community.”

Nirgal’s jaw clenched. There was a time, before Fairy law, that such niceties would be moot. Vampires killed with little disregard of the consequences. But times had changed, and vampires had to change with them. Fairy was a power not even he could challenge.

Buzzing from inside the box met Nirgal’s ears, and his vision narrowed in on the sound, wishing he could see what was within.

Obviously noting where his attention lay and most likely eager to leave the chateau, LizAnne said, “As I’m certain you’ve been advised, I come bearing a gift from Lucroy Moony, King of the Southeastern vampire nest of the United States, and his beloved, Peaches.

I was instructed to present the gift to you and no other.

” LizAnne shifted and the first hint of discomfort crossed pinched her lips.

“The gift is…conditional.” LizAnne swallowed hard.

“ Conditional ?” Cassius moved closer, his eyes narrowed. They remained ink black, but Nirgal could feel the power surge. “Is this a poor attempt at a joke?”

Nirgal held up his hand. That singular movement silenced Cassius. “My nestling has a point.”

LizAnne bowed her head. “Apologies. I did not mean to offend, nor do I believe it is King Moony’s intention to do so. The gift is not conditional by his terms but by the terms of the gift itself.”

“You speak in riddles,” Gashan admonished.

Nirgal studied the box and the twittering buzz he heard from within. His heart picked up speed yet again. Could it be …? “Do they have one as their designated representative?”

“Sir?” Cassius questioned. “You know what this is about?”

“I hope so,” Nirgal answered and wondered at that single word: hope . He had not had cause to use it within memory.

A smile softened LizAnne’s features. “They do. If you’d allow, I have the necessary charmed earpiece you will require for communication.”

Nirgal stretched out his hand and accepted the small device. Slipping it into his ear, he ignored the slight discomfort. “If you would open the box, please.”

Shifting the box in her arms, LizAnne slid a small hatch to the side.

Shimmering light blazed into the night, the cone of brilliance concentrated on that tiny opening.

Shooting forward, a sprite immerged from the box, buzzing into the air, the beat of their wings nearly impossible to follow.

Spinning once, the sprite descended, landing on top of the box.

Weighted silence filled the air surrounding Nirgal.

As he only had eyes for the magnificent sprite, Nirgal did not look at Gashan or Cassius.

If he had, most likely he would only see what they wished and would be able to interpret nothing.

He did catch their combined flinches when the sprite spoke.

To them, it would sound like little more than incoherent high-pitched squeaks and clicks.

With the aid of the charmed earpiece, to Nirgal, the sprite sounded nothing short of heavenly.

“You are the vampire?” the sprite asked. Their diminutive hands were fisted on their hips, chin lifted and defiantly pointed at the sky.

“I am Nirgal.”

“Humph.” The sprite’s head twisted around, taking in the chateau’s foyer. The little thing’s disappointment grew. “Everything here is old and dead. We cannot make our home here.”

Nirgal barely suppressed a frustrated growl.

He understood the conditional part of the gift all too well.

Neither Lucroy Moony nor Peaches would ever force a colony of sprites to live somewhere they were unhappy.

What sprites needed was forested land. Protected forested land.

All the stunning antiques, ornate decorations, and wealth his nest coveted meant nothing to this being of light.

“This is not where you will live,” Nirgal offered.

“Live?” Gashan asked. “They want to live here?” Because only Nirgal could understand the sprite’s words, Gashan only heard half the conversation.

“If we are fortunate,” Nirgal answered, then held out his hand. “May I show you somewhere better before you decide?”