I watched a duo of male pixies in the middle of a brawl, slapping and biting the heck out of each other. They broke apart a few seconds later, putting their arms around each other and laughing as though nothing had happened.
Nathan went quiet for a while. “Okay… let’s do it.”
“Really?”
“It’s the best idea we’ve got, even if it might get me fired.”
Straightening up, he ran to the far side of the Repository and closed the doors. On his way back, he grabbed an armload of puzzle boxes and dumped them on the ground in front of me before zipping off to his study. I had no idea what he needed from there, but all became clear when he ran back, beaming from ear to ear, with a cup, a carton of milk, and a basket of strawberries in his hands.
I laughed, despite my growing anxiety. “You remembered.”
“Milk and sweet fruit. If anything’s going to grab their attention, it’s this.” He set to work, pouring a cupful of milk and putting out the strawberries. I glanced from him to the pixies and back again, wondering if this was the worst plan I’d ever hatched. So much could go wrong. Then again, I didn’t like the sight of the pixies in those glass orbs. I knew it was Institute protocol, and Victoria would flip her lid if she found out they’d all escaped, but if the pixies listened… if they could just give us an indication of where the missing magicals might be, then it would be worth the head huntswoman’s rage. And if the pixies could exonerate themselves in her eyes while they were at it, even better.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nathan approached the first orb full of pixies.
I shook my head. “No, but I still think it’s our best shot.”
“Okay, then, brace yourself.” He opened the puzzle box with the pixie inside first, then lifted the lid on the first orb, then the second, then the third, then the fourth. And, finally, the opened the last one, with the solitary she-pixie inside.
In a collective flurry, the pixies erupted from their prisons. They flew up and up with their gossamer wings until I worried they might disappear through the roof, only to hurtle back down the millisecond they spotted the cup of milk. A cascade of brightly colored monsters made an aerial assault on the dairy goodness, one of them diving right into the cup and splashing around in the milk. Four others spied the carton that Nathan had put down and snatched it for themselves. Cheering and chanting, they hauled the milk carton away and went to town, scooping up handfuls and guzzling down every drop.
The strawberry situation quickly turned into a bloodbath. Well, it looked like a bloodbath. Smushed fruit everywhere, smeared on their hungry little faces and all over their tiny frames. Two she-pixies ripped off the green tops and plopped them on their heads, using them as fetching hats. A moment later, they devoured a strawberry between them like piranhas gnawing a whole duck down to the bone.
“Excuse me?” I sank to my knees and tried to get their attention. “Would you be willing to talk now? We need your help with something, and it’s urgent.”
I might as well have been talking to myself.
Over the cup of milk, a fight broke out. A trio of pixies squawking and squabbling, trying to pull the cup toward them in a three-way tug of war. Meanwhile, a fourth pixie still swished and swam about in the milk, happy as a clam. Pixies battled for the prime spot atop the milk carton, shoving each other out of the way to get to it. A she-pixie slapped another so hard across the face that he fell to the ground for a moment before shaking his head and getting back up. He tackled her from the top of the carton, and the two of them wound up in the strawberry basket, where they seemed intent on making jam out of what was left.
“This is useless! They don’t care!” I hissed to Nathan. We were running out of time to save my best friend, and these punks were too busy fighting over milk and strawberries. I wanted to grab them and knock their heads together.
Instead, I sat back on my haunches and let the frustration wash over me. Bitter tears welled in my eyes, trickling down my cheeks and onto the floor. One of the little ingrates even dared to dip a finger into the small puddle and taste my tears. I would’ve flicked him away, but it wouldn’t help. We’d let them out, and they didn’t give a crap what we wanted.
Why should they? No one in the Institute cared about what they wanted. They were just returning the favor.
I was so absorbed in my misery that I didn’t notice the she-pixie I’d first caught finally emerge from her orb, as though she’d been observing the situation. For a moment, she was just a flutter in the corner of my eye. Then, she shot upward to meet with the puzzle-box pixie, who was chomping contentedly on a strawberry. He dropped it the moment he saw the she-pixie, and the two of them hovered there for a moment. Their loud chatter and the falling strawberry drew my attention away from my tears. They jabbed bony fingers at me, babbling animatedly, and performed some less-than-flattering charades. Finally, it seemed they’d made some kind of decision. Both creatures nodded to one another and hurtled to the ground.
The she-pixie landed by the milk, while the other one landed by the strawberries. There, in a display of
