Page 9 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

Still crouched low, Peat twisted this way and that as the little menaces dive-bombed him, munching on his dust like starved heathens. It took every ounce of self-control not to swat at them.

“Enough!” Nirgal didn’t exactly shout, but that singular word held enough weight to hit its mark like a scream. The dive-bombing immediately ceased, the little orbs of light hovering a few feet away, vibrating in the air.

Nirgal’s arm rested over Peat’s shoulders, pulling him in close. It was an oddly protective move. “That was very rude,” Nirgal chastised the sprites. “Peat is a guest within this forest, and you’ve made him feel unsafe.”

Peat wouldn’t exactly phrase it that way, but he was uncomfortable and ready to bolt. Peat felt like he should say something, but words eluded him.

“Sorry!” chorused through the air. “We were just so excited.” As if to prove their point, the sprite zipped high in the air and did a twirly dance before joining their colony again.

“Would you like to leave?” Nirgal asked. “I’m sorry. I should have considered this would be too much for them. Setting ground rules prior to an introduction would have been wiser.”

Peat considered Nirgal’s offer and declined. “N-no. It’s okay. I mean, I just wasn’t expecting…that.” While Peat had seen the videos of how excited sprites got when pixies were near, he’d never personally experienced it.

“You didn’t tell us you had a pixie,” one of the sprites said, excitement clear.

“That sounds as if I own Peat,” Nirgal corrected. “Peat is as free to come and go as you.”

“Apologies!”

Peat felt his lips twitch with amusement. Now that they weren’t swarming him, Peat began to see the appeal. The sprites weren’t vicious so much as mischievous. And that made all the difference.

“It’s fine,” Peat said. “I wasn’t offended, and I think I understand what you meant.

” Stepping out of Nirgal’s protective embrace, Peat took a deep breath but kept his wings still.

If he was well and truly going to be this chateau’s home-and- hearth pixie, then that included the surrounding lands—and the sprites that lived within the forest.

Bracing his feet wide, Peat allowed his eyes to roam the brightly lit sky. There were a few more of them now, and Peat wondered if he was looking at the whole colony. If so, then Nirgal was correct. There really weren’t that many of them.

“Okay,” Peat started. “Like Nirgal said. We need some ground rules.” Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, Peat indicated the house.

“I’m going to be taking care of the house, so it looks like I’ll be around for a bit.

” Something inside Peat cringed when he considered leaving.

It was similar to every other pang he’d had in the past. That he’d never have a permanent home to bond with.

That his time with a property was finite.

Pushing past that fear, Peat said, “I don’t mind if you eat my dust. Just try not to swarm. ”

“How many?” one of the sprites asked.

Peat took a moment to consider the question. “How many sprites at a time?” he clarified.

“Yes.”

Peat answered, “Let’s try three and see how I do. If that’s okay, then we can increase the numbers. My wings might be small, but they are still capable of producing a lot of dust.” It was odd, thinking that his dust-creating abilities were actually considered something favorable here.

Indistinguishable high-pitched chatter erupted. Peat didn’t know how they decided, but soon three sprites separated themselves and came his direction. It appeared the bargain was in immediate effect.

Fluttering his minuscule wings took less than no effort. The sprites immediately dove in, zipping around him, sating their cravings, flying off in drunken arcs as they finished and three more took their place.

There was never even the tiniest hint of complaint regarding Peat’s wing size. The sprites didn’t care. His wings produced dust, and that was all that was important. In that brief, shining moment, Peat wondered if this might just be it—home.

I t had been nearly three weeks since Peat moved out of the boarding house and into a room on the third floor of the chateau.

He’d learned it was the floor the blood donors stayed on while on site.

That thought had clenched Peat’s stomach, but his concerns eased when he saw the blood donors come and go.

They seemed happy enough and were treated well.

It was their choice, and as long as the feeding was consensual, Peat wouldn’t judge.

Peat often found he had a vampiric audience as he went about the chateau. Nirgal’s nestlings were silent sentinels. Peat never felt threatened or judged. Curiosity was the overriding emotion he sensed, although, to be fair, it was difficult figuring out what those stoic, obsidian eyes hid.

Gashan and Cassius were sometimes more interactive, although not always.

They were polite to the point of irritation.

Peat had learned to let their presence roll off his shoulders.

The house was the most important thing, and it was slowly being coaxed back to life.

Peat hadn’t been certain his presence would be enough.

Thankfully, the chateau was pleasantly reactive.

It was as if Peat had sparked something when he’d ventured down into Nirgal’s crypt.

While loneliness and longing were still the overriding emotions, Peat could sense something else too—hope.

It was that fragile sensation that kept Peat moving forward, positively communing with the chateau and its surrounding grounds.

Peat touched the walls, windows, fireplaces—every piece of wood, nook, and cranny he could get his fingers on.

Each and every time he sent positive, loving emotions into the surface.

His efforts were rewarded time and time again.

Today, one of the fireplaces lit on its own as he walked into the room.

Peat made certain he sufficiently praised the house for its consideration and efforts.

So far, things were going very well. And then, there was Nirgal.

Peat’s cheeks flushed with the very thought of the ancient vampire.

Nirgal had been incredibly attentive and understanding.

By all rights, Peat should feel threatened living under the same roof with so many vampires.

Instead, all he felt was safe. Peat wondered if he’d ever felt this protected before.

Peat could have worked during the day, when his housemates were asleep.

He’d considered it upon first moving in and quickly dismissed the idea.

While Peat wanted to respect the chateau’s residents’ privacy, he also needed access to their rooms, even if only briefly.

Besides, the chateau’s occupants were a big part of the home’s personality.

Peat wanted to be a part of their lives, even though his would seem fleeting in comparison.

Descending the stairs, Peat made his way to the kitchen. While the refrigerator was stocked mostly with blood, he’d carved himself out a small portion that would meet his vegetarian needs.

“How long has it been?”

Peat’s footsteps faltered when he heard the urgency in Cassius’s voice.

“Four weeks,” Gashan replied. “The last time he fed was the day the witch arrived with the sprites.”

Peat crept forward, trying his best to remain silent. His bare feet quietly tapped across the floor as he leaned against the mahogany wood paneling. The wood warmed beneath his touch.

“There is still time,” Cassius answered. “The last time it was over six weeks before Nirgal fell into a wakeless sleep.”

Peat’s hand slapped over his mouth as worry consumed him. Wakeless sleep . That didn’t sound good. Was Nirgal in jeopardy of doing that again? Why wasn’t he feeding?

As if he’d heard Peat’s inner thoughts, Cassius asked, “Is he unhappy with the donor? We can search for something more palatable.”

“He will not say,” Gashan answered. “Although, it is obvious Nirgal has not found his meals appetizing for several centuries. Perhaps he simply has too much on his mind of late. He has been preoccupied.”

Gashan’s tone was flat and unreadable. Peat couldn’t tell if she thought that was a good or bad thing. Considering Nirgal wasn’t feeding, he thought it might be the latter.

“Nirgal has seemed livelier recently,” Cassius answered. “I have found his renewed interest in the nest and our home positive.”

“As have I,” Gashan agreed. “It is only his lack of feeding that has me concerned. I do not wish to lose him again. I fear that if it happens again…” Her voice trailed off. “Waking him last time was near impossible and traumatizing to the donor.”

Peat didn’t want to contemplate what Gashan meant by that cryptic statement.

“The donor survived,” Cassius casually answered. “Such things do not concern me.”

Peat rolled his eyes. Of course Cassius would not only think that, but say it as well.

While he didn’t think Cassius or Gashan were cruel, they appeared emotionally distant from mortal concerns.

Since Peat himself was a mortal creature, he couldn’t understand their point of view and often cringed at the callous comments.

Peat could hear his heart hammering inside his chest when there was a lull in the conversation. Vampiric hearing was legendary. Could they hear his? Was his frantic heart giving him away? Peat didn’t know if he should retreat or remain rooted to his hidden spot .

Stuck inside his head and feeling increasing uncomfortable for eavesdropping, Peat nearly missed Cassius ask, “Do you think it’s the pixie?”

Slapping a hand over his mouth to cover his gasp, Peat’s eyes flew wide. Him? What could Nirgal’s apparent blood fast have to do with him? Eagerly awaiting Gashan’s response, Peat leaned closer to the open doorway.

“It is possible. We know so little regarding vampire and pixie interactions. There is not enough information for me to comment.” As usual, Gashan didn’t sound overly emotional regarding her lack of knowledge.