The Problem with Pixies by Healy Kat & Healy Kat Lapatovich

Author:Healy, Kat & Healy, Kat Lapatovich
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: KattasticReads
Published: 2024-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

After touching up the paint where the pixies had clawed it, I staked the blown-glass lawn ornaments around the post of the birdhouse. Mom had said pixies were attracted to bright, colorful objects, and these would be quite lovely in day or night.

I hope. I’d set out another gravy boat of bone broth tonight, just in case.

But before that, I had to do something about this fence. That meant rolling up my sleeves and attacking the panels with some weather-resistant paint. A trickle of green magic encouraged the delphinium border to lean away from the fence so I didn’t get paint on the flowers, slowly easing into their upright positions when I was done with a section and had moved on.

Was I avoiding the true reason I’d come to Redbud? Absolutely. But, I reminded myself, you can’t possibly tackle that spell book until you’re fully healed. Arthur’s salve and my own magic had gone a long way, but I still needed a few days. My magic was rejuvenating quickly, but I was loath to use it on myself any more than I already had, so I funneled it into the amazonite pendant. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, which meant I needed to be ready.

And it wasn’t just my body that needed healed. My spirit needed it too. After everything I’d learned, the secrets I’d uncovered… I hadn’t been as foolish as Pandora that night, but I’d been terribly naïve.

I needed to come to grips with it all, and that meant ignoring it for a few more days while I concentrated on mundane, less violent things.

Sometimes tackling the little things gave you the mental fortitude to then tackle the big ones.

And my “little thing” at the moment was this fence.

Every eight or so feet was a post to provide stability to the panels, and when I approached the third one, my humming tune turned into a yelp.

Remember, I startle easily. I wasn’t scared.

The cat was back.

At this point, I was convinced it was just a cat. If it were a Big Nasty, it would’ve attacked me already. If it were a shifter or a druid, it most certainly had better things to do with its day than remain in feline form and watch me work. At least, one would think.

This particular post was opposite the birdhouse and the new lawn ornaments that glinted in the noonday sun, soaking up energy to sparkle at night. The half-crouched cat divided its attention between the birdhouse and the closest orb, gauging the distance between them, tail flicking.

“Uh-uh,” I said sharply, startling the cat as much as it had startled me. Regaining its balance, it flattened its ears, tail still swishing, unamused. “There are no birds up there for you, cat, and that gravy boat is not yours either. Now you’re welcome to sit there, but that’s all.”

The cat just stared at me.

“Well, actually, I’d rather you move so I can paint that post.”

The little beast yawned, stretched, making sure every one of its eighteen claws dug into the worn wood of the post, and hopped down into the grass.

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