7. Phil #2
After turning it over in my head, I decided it wasn’t a breach of confidentiality and answered, “He doesn’t have a pack. What little he did have died off when he lost his brother.”
“The children’s father?” Peaches asked, never once interrupting his impromptu massage.
“Yeah. And . . .” I hesitated. Inhaling deeply, I finally gave up the juicy goods. “You’ll never guess who Dillon and Ruthie’s maternal grandparents are.” When Peaches was silent, I said the toxic name, “Belview.”
Peaches’s fingers came to a dead stop, and he inhaled a breath so sharp I thought he might pass out. I could feel the quiver of his flesh against my sides. “B-Belview? Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.” For the most part, the different species got along, relatively speaking.
There were spats, and some had more issues than others, but overall, it was best for everyone if violence was minimal.
Fairy law did a good job keeping us in check.
As a general rule, pixies didn’t have beef with anyone else, and we paid little attention to the comings and goings of the other communities.
The fact Peaches and I both knew the Belview name spoke volumes.
Peaches slid off me, perching on the side of the bed.
His wings beat a little more furiously than before.
Nerves did that to pixies. Peaches’s ministrations had relaxed and made me feel well enough to sit up.
I still groaned, but I wouldn’t change a moment of discomfort.
A hot shower would finish off what Peaches got started.
Hunched over, Peaches stared at his twisting fingers.
“Phil,” Peaches hesitantly started. “I know you really want this job, and I want it for you, but the Belviews aren’t something you want to get involved with.
They . . . they do bad things, Phil. I .
. .” Peaches’s head twisted to the side, and a single tear traced down his cheek.
Peaches wiped furiously at it as if he were angry with the escapee.
“Peaches?” I shifted closer. My body was massive compared to my best friend, and my hand looked huge when I laid it across the back of his neck.
“What’s wrong? What haven’t you told me?
” Some days I felt like I’d known Peaches all my life.
It was difficult to remember we’d only known each other for over two years.
“I . . . They didn’t do anything to me, not directly, but I had a cousin .
. .” Peaches inhaled deeply, letting out the air by slow but measured degrees.
“Peony was a garden pixie, like most of my family. She had the prettiest green hair and wings.” Peaches smiled fondly.
“Peony was lovely in every way a pixie can be. She gravitated toward trees, just like me. Peony was gifted and young when she left home. She’d gotten a job opportunity.
It wasn’t a huge orchard, nothing like mine.
But she loved it, and the trees loved her.
Within three years, the apple orchard became more productive than ever.
The owners were thrilled, and Peony bonded with the land and her trees.
She was incredibly happy and so very content,” Peaches said wistfully.
“That sounds wonderful.” I wasn’t sure where this story was going, but it didn’t seem like anything to cry over.
“It was.” Peaches turned, and more tears slipped from his eyes. He wiggled closer and burrowed into my outstretched arms.
I pulled him in close, unsure why he needed the comfort but willing to give it. I ran my fingers through Peaches’s golden mane, much like he’d done with mine earlier.
When he was ready, Peaches spoke again. “It turns out the orchard wasn’t doing well before Peony, and the owners had gone into debt.
They’d taken out loans against the land.
They were just starting to pay them back when the Belviews came in and paid them off, purchasing the land out from under them. ”
“But that’s illegal. Isn’t it?” I’d never owned more than the clothes on my back and wasn’t sure how loans worked.
“It is, but that didn’t matter to the Belviews.
No one was certain how it happened, most likely a well-placed bribe here or there.
In the end, it didn’t matter. The original owners didn’t have the money to hire a lawyer—fairy or otherwise.
Official documentation gave control of the land to the Belviews, only they didn’t want it for the trees and the orchard.
They developed the land into office buildings.
They cut down all the trees, stripped the land bare, and placed concrete on top.
Peony begged them not to do it. She told them she’d bonded to the land, that. ..”
Peaches didn’t need to finish. Now I knew where the tears came from. A bonded garden pixie shared the same fate as the land they were attached to. That’s why bonded pixies so fiercely protected what they’d claimed.
“If she’d bonded, how did they get on the land?” I asked.
Peaches growled and pulled away. He fluttered off the bed and did the pixie equivalent of pacing the room.
Flying from side to side, pixie dust poured from Peaches’s wings.
“Peony tried, but her boundary only went so far. There was a stream that fed the orchard, and its source was outside her boundaries. The Belviews poisoned the stream. They killed everything—the fish, ecosystem, trees, plants, and eventually, Peony.”
I nearly choked on my inhaled breath. “Oh, Peaches. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I—”
“There’s no reason you should have. I’ve never spoken of it.
It’s far too . . . painful. And infuriating.
Nothing happened to the Belviews. They couldn’t prove it was them that poisoned the water.
Oh, everyone knew it was them, but proof is something entirely different.
They’re sneaky, ruthless, and beyond devious.
They’ll do anything to get what they want, Phil.
That’s why I’m worried. I’ve already lost precious family to the Belviews.
I don’t want to lose my best friend too. ”
“I—” I wasn’t sure what to say, how to ease Peaches’s concern or my own. Finally, I settled on, “Sedrick Voss doesn’t want anything to do with the Belviews either. He has sole custody of the children, but . . .”
“But the Belviews aren’t happy about that, are they?”
I shook my head. “No, apparently not.” I didn’t tell Peaches that it wasn’t just a random branch of the Belview family but Arie Belview himself.
“You’ve probably already gotten attached to the kids, haven’t you?” Peaches gave me an exasperated smile.
“You should see them,” I answered, unable to formulate even a hint of denial. “Dillon’s the oldest. He’s around seven. He’s an expert pouter. Grown pixies could take a few lessons.”
Peaches’s smile widened.
“And then there’s little Ruthie. She’s five. I’m not sure if it was Dillon or Sedrick that tried to do her hair, but . . .” I sighed fondly. “It was even more of a disaster than the house. I don’t think Ruthie talks,” I tacked on. Sedrick hadn’t warned me about it, but I’d figured it out quickly.
“To you or to anyone?”
I thought about that before answering, “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I don’t think she speaks to anyone.”
“Does she have some kind of disability?” Peaches sounded as confused and worried as I felt.
Again, I considered Peaches’s question. The bottom line was I didn’t have enough information. “I haven’t seen her try to sign anything. I would think they would have tried to teach her other communication methods if it was a disability, but I can’t be certain.”
“Well, she did just lose her mom and dad recently.” Peaches tapped his chin.
He still hovered, toes barely skimming the threadbare rug on the floor.
“Maybe it’s some kind of trauma. Do we know how they died?
Weres are tough. They aren’t prone to disease and might not live as long as other species, but they typically have a good hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred years in them. ”
Out of all the sentient species who called planet Earth home, humans were by far the physically weakest and shortest lived.
But they bred like rabbits and found creative ways to compensate for their lack of physical prowess.
All the other species relied on our natural strengths.
Humans didn’t have much to fall back on beyond their brain power and procreative skills.
They honed both and made them into effective weapons.
It was that very aptitude that finally got fairies involved.
The damage from the first two human World Wars was bad enough.
When humans geared up for a third, the fairy community got fed up and took control.
Until that point, humans had meant next to nothing to fairies.
To most of us, humans were little more than a nuisance.
To others, they were food. When they began destroying the planet, we all shared and depended on . . . That was another matter altogether.
Humanity had been shocked—not that other species existed, but at how insignificant all their technology was compared to the natural, goddess-given powers fairies possessed.
That power was magnified when nearly every other community backed fairy law.
Humans were left with a decision—fall in line or be wiped from the planet.
Surprisingly, many chose death when they decided to fight back.
There hadn’t been much discord since. Not in decades.
Shaking off thoughts of humanity, I answered, “I’m not sure. That didn’t come up today.”
“Oh,” was all Peaches answered.
I didn’t have much more to add.
Slowing the beat of his wings, Peaches lowered his toes onto the rug, and his feet quickly followed.
Sitting beside me, Peaches laced his fingers with mine and said, “Promise me you’ll be careful, Phil.
I wish Peony’s story was unique, but when it comes to the Belviews, it’s not.
If they want Dillon and Ruthie, they’ll do everything they can to get them—legal or otherwise. ”
I understood Peaches’s concern but couldn’t imagine why they’d come after me. “I’m just a home-and-hearth pixie. Really, I’m just a nobody.”
Peaches squeezed my hand. “First of all, you’re not a nobody. You’re Philodendron, my best friend. But beyond that, sometimes innocent bystanders catch the brunt of the storm. Just make sure to carry your umbrella, Phil. Carry it and wield it like a weapon.”
Peaches gave my leg a final tap before he got up, turned off the light, and walked out the door. I sat there in the dark, staring at the closed door, and realized I hadn’t asked him about Sedrick’s garden and the gnomes that had taken up residence.
Laying back on the bed, belly down and wings stretched out, my tired body convinced my spinning head that rest was needed. I fell asleep without the aid of the hot shower I’d planned. Sometimes being clean was overrated.