“Not me. I signed nothing. Everything is in Phelma Jo’s name.”
“She hasn’t the imagination to think this up. She couldn’t see Pixies as a child. She thought we were all dragonflies.” So did Chase, but he was learning that life grew beyond logic and the limits of practical explanations.
“The mayor and the lawyers won’t believe that,” Hay smirked.
“You’re from the valley. I bet you learned all about computers and bending rules from the boys you befriended. But how can you get close to anything digital? They go all static…” Oh, my. A fiery aura, compatibility with computers, pointy teeth.
He was no ordinary Pixie. She’d bet her wings that he was only half Pixie. Dusty had it right. Half Pixie and half Faery gave him control over all four elements and which ones dominated.
That was why she couldn’t get close to him. His Faery blood repelled her, like… like magnets or something.
She backed up two steps in fear.
“My boys do love their video games. They learned to like blowing things up from their games. And they love hacking, just to see how far they can get inside other people’s computers. I am their faithful friend, learning as much from them as they do from me. Tonight they’ll succeed at both their hobbies by taking control over all the computerized carnival rides and then blowing up the Ferris wheel.” He almost glowed with pride. Or was that just Faery fire?
“Doesn’t it bother you that besides destroying our oldest and grandest tradition, you will break Dusty’s heart? You lied to her from the beginning. You said you loved her and then you kissed her. That shreds the first law of Pixie, never to hurt a friend.” Thistle clenched her fists. She wanted to hit him, knock him over the cliff, send him back to his traitorous forebears.
But she needed to find Chase, or Dusty, or Dick, someone who could stop the boys from hurting people at the carnival.
“Dusty is my only regret,” Hay sighed. “I had not intended to fall in love with her. She is so cute and innocent. Still very much a child in many ways. She tugs at my heartstrings in ways that my betrothed never could. But my engagement to Rosie was negotiated long ago. I will not violate that treaty.”
“You truly love Dusty?” Emotions surged and ebbed within Thistle. She didn’t know what to think.
“Yes, I love her. I have not lied to her. I do not regret the destruction of your tribe and the Patriarch Oak. I have my orders. Pixies must give way to the greater power of Faeries. Murdering humans are about to destroy our hill in their need to build and expand. A cell phone tower and a
He took a deep breath to calm himself, and the alien visage dissolved. “We need a new place to live. Pixies overrun our chosen spot, The Ten Acre Wood. They must go. But I do regret that I must hurt Dusty.”
“You lying cheat!” Phelma Jo screamed from the end of the pavement half a block from where they stood.
“It’s not like that at all, PJ. She tricked me,” Hay protested.
“Don’t call me PJ. I hate that.”
“He can’t be trusted, Phelma Jo,” Thistle called and started toward her. Haywood’s repulsion sent her into the yard of one of the neighbors. Trespass. She had no permission to walk here. She kept going, doing her best to get closer to Phelma Jo, reason with her. Make her an ally.
Phelma Jo wheeled around and began running.
Hay loosed a long arc of Pixie dust that twinkled and floated.
Thistle caught the brunt of the magic. It rooted her feet to the dirt and gravel, almost as deeply as if she was just another plant.
Only a few flakes touched Phelma Jo. She slowed her hasty retreat, but did not stop.
“Don’t make me come after you, PJ.”
“Too late,” Thistle mocked. “You lied to her. And now she knows about it. You’ll never gain her trust again. You’re a lousy half-breed without logic. How can your Faery friends make The Ten Acre Wood their new home if you destroy it? Perhaps Alder threw up that force field to keep Faeries out instead of his queen in.”
Haywood Wheatland turned and marched away in the opposite direction, back straight, muttering to himself in words Thistle couldn’t understand, but a language she recognized.
Faery. He spoke a Faery spell.
Phelma Jo flung open the door to her office suite. “Out. Everyone go home. I’m giving you the rest of the day off, just get out of here right now.”
“But I’m in the middle of closing a deal,” her best real estate agent protested.
“Finish it on your cell phone in your car.” She couldn’t bear to lose money, even to satisfy her own immediate agenda. “Just get out!” she screamed at the woman. Twenty years of experience; she should know how to close a deal elsewhere.
The staff of six scrambled to stuff papers into desk drawers, close down computers, and hasten away from Phelma Jo’s temper tantrum.
“Lying, thieving, son of a bitch. Delusional, too.” She slammed the door to her private office with a satisfying crash. The glass in the upper half rattled.
She didn’t care. The bastard was going to be out on his ear. She pulled up the paperwork on the computer for termination of employment before she even sat down. She started typing as soon as the page finished loading.
“Employee number?” She nearly screamed at the computer. It refused to advance to the next line until she filled in the box. Cursing, she opened another window with personnel files. “What do you mean you can’t find anyone by that name? I set you up to respond to my needs, stupid software.”
More curses escaped her as she rummaged in the file cabinet on the opposite wall. Every neatly labeled, redundant file folder bore a familiar name. All except the one she sought. “I know I had you fill out an application and tax forms.” Her fingers flew through the ten folders, hoping it had gotten misfiled. But it hadn’t. Nor was it stuck inside one of the others.
“Phelma Jo Nelson,” Chase Norton said from behind her.
She spun to face the doorway, feet braced for… something aggressive and violent. She didn’t know what yet, but the urge to slam her fist into a face, any face, nearly overwhelmed her.
Chase stood in the doorway to her office, too far away to slug, tall and blond and as handsome as ever. His air of calm authority doubled his attractiveness. Not to her. She needed control of her relationships.
He knew that. He looked just as disapproving and hostile as when she kicked him out of her bed and her life because he called her “Dusty” in the throes of wild hot monkey sex.
Passion without rules or limits, as only teenagers can truly indulge.
She was a high school senior then, he home from college for the summer. And he still loved the mousey little brat.
Dick Carrick wasn’t much better, still pining after some bimbo who left town when he was a pimple-faced adolescent with a cracking voice.
“What do you want?” she spat at Chase.
“I have here a court order putting a temporary halt to the logging of The Ten Acre Wood, a designated city park.”
“Let me see that.” She ripped the document out of his hands. He remained calm.
“So what? My work order is signed by the mayor. This minor judge can’t override that.” She flung the paper on the desk and assumed her chair, as if it were a throne.
“Yes, he can. And he has. If the work crews remove so much as a twig before this issue is resolved, I’ll haul them and you off to jail. So will any other officer under my command. Unlike some people, I can’t be bribed. And William Tremaine’s camera crews will record it all, report names, and dig deep into private files with and without permission.” He leaned his clenched fists on her desk and met her gaze with determination. It was the first emotion he’d shown since invading her private space without invitation.
“Fine. I’ll grant insignificant Miss Carrick her moment at the Ball in the park. But I will have those trees. The
