“So? We had some good times before… that last summer.”
“Think back to your aunt’s home,” Dusty continued, trying for a mesmerizing lilt in her voice.
Ian’s eyes glazed over a bit as he chased memories as fleeting as a Pixie.
“No.”
“It’s true, McEwen,” Chase growled. “Look, you don’t have to believe anymore, but if you have a net, could we borrow it?”
“I suppose. Give me a minute. I think it’s in the boxes I haven’t unpacked yet in the spare room.”
Five long and anxious minutes later he returned and shoved the net with a worn handle and warped frame through the crack in the doorway. “This whole city is crazy. Sometimes I think I should move back to Portland for my own sanity.”
“Maybe you should stay a little longer and find your sanity here,” Dusty whispered.
Hand in hand, she and Chase skipped back to the truck and headed for The Ten Acre Wood.
“Where’s Dick?” Chase asked as he unloaded the cooler. “He said he’d meet us here.”
Dawn had just begun to swell along the eastern horizon.
Dusty waved the butterfly net around, testing the swish of the flexible mesh. Now all she needed was a Pixie to catch in it. “If Dick said he’d be here, then he’ll be here.”
“Hey, watch where you swing that thing, lady!” a tiny voice yelled at Dusty.
She looked around for the source.
“Over here. What are you? Blind as a Faery in sunlight?” A skinny yellow-and-green Pixie hovered in front of Dusty’s eyes.
“Oh, hello. Who are you?”
“I’m Dandelion Five and Chicory put me in charge of this campaign.” He puffed out his chest and threw back his shoulders with pride.
“Pleased to meet you, Dandelion Five.” Dusty dipped a curtsy to him, a little hard to accomplish wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a plaid flannel shirt. Then she spotted a dozen other dandelion Pixies looking identical to Five. “Mind if I call you Leo so I know you’re the leader?” she whispered.
“Leo, why Leo?” he spluttered.
“It’s short for Lion.”
“Oh, okay, then. Leo I am.”
“Where is Chicory, by the way?”
Leo shrugged. “He didn’t tell me. Just put me in charge. About time someone recognized how valuable dandelions are.”
“Why, of course, a dandelion is the perfect plant. The greens are good eating—cooked or raw—the flowers provide a lovely yellow dye…”
“And make dandelion wine,” Chase added.
“Wine, yes. How could I forget?” She grinned at her fiancé. “The roots can be roasted for either a vegetable or dried and ground for a coffee substitute.” She grimaced at the remembered taste of one of her mother’s experiments.
“The seed pods make a perfect child’s toy,” she concluded.
“Don’t forget a bouquet of flowers to a loved one! And we are the only Pixies who can survive the winter no matter how cold it gets,” Leo chortled with pride. Then his face grew serious again. “Who are we here to fight?” He brandished his hawthorn spike as eloquently as the finest rapier.
“Snapdragon,” Chase said, butting in to the conversation.
“Oooooh, he’s evil. I’ve fought for him and against him,” Leo replied. He swished his thorn around in a complicated circle that was more flourish than weapon.
“But first we have to find him,” Chase muttered.
A flutter of red and gold in the elbow of a branch on the Patriarch Oak caught Dusty’s attention. “I don’t think finding Snapdragon will be the problem.”
The sound of big, human-sized voices woke Thistle. She shoved Pixie arms and legs out of her way to peer over the lip of the hollow log they’d made into a bower.
“Wake up, everyone, the cavalry has arrived!” she said as she kicked and pushed awake every Pixie within reach, which was most of the tribe. Her heart swelled that her friends had come, prepared to rescue her and her family from Snapdragon.
But the one person she wanted here had not come. She’d allow herself to cry away the ache—or make it deeper—later. Right now, she needed to be out there organizing the coming battle. If that trumped-up Dandelion Leo would let her.
Quickly she left the nest and tweaked Dusty’s hair by way of welcome. “Where’s your brother?” She dared not say his name or she’d let loose with all of her tears at once.
“I don’t know,” Dusty replied. “He said he’d be here.”
“And here I am!” Dick said a little breathlessly. His voice sounded different… shrunken.
Thistle scanned as she flew a tight circle around Dusty and Chase.
A scatter of Dandelions darted into view, clutching Dick by his hair and an oddly fashioned kilt of flower petals. He had indeed shrunk to Pixie size with wings and everything. “So why aren’t you flying?” she asked, amazed at the magic that enveloped him. She tasted Chicory in the air every time he twitched. This was indeed a potent spell. Big enough that Chicory was probably sound asleep and snoring for the rest of the day.
“Dick, you came,” Dusty said on a sigh of relief.
“Of course I came. And I can fly now,” he called the last to his escort.
Abruptly, they dropped him. He tumbled down three blossom lengths before he caught air and righted himself.
“You can fly?” Thistle asked.
“Yes, I can. I’m just not used to it and got a bit tired. It’s a long way here from our house.”
“We found him gasping for breath by the back gate. He barely made it out of the house,” one of the Dandelions sneered.
“Oh, Dick, I am so happy you came,” Thistle cried. She led her love to the flat rock overlooking the pond.
“I came for you. I need to take you back home with me, or stay a Pixie. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.” He kissed her.
“What about Hope? Are you prepared to leave her?” Thistle asked cautiously.
“I don’t want to. But if staying a Pixie is the only way I can have you, then I’ll have to trust my mother, and Dusty and Chase, and Chicory and his tribe to take care of Hope for me.” He kissed her nose. “Don’t we have some work to do first?”
Human-sized tears threatened to choke her. She could tell by his expression that he really did care. He wanted to be human, but he had to give her the choice.
“Thank you, Dick. I love you. You have to trust me that I will come back to you as a human. But I’ve learned from you and Dusty the importance of responsibility and commitment. I have to take care of Snapdragon and find a leader for my tribe. I owe them.”
“Yes, you do. No more running away from the past for either of us. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’ve got your back, Thistle, my love. Now give me a sword and let’s go meet the enemy before he comes to meet us.”
Thirty-nine
DICK FLEXED HIS WINGS. His shoulders protested the work. No worse than a three-hour football practice.
A tiny voice in the back of his head reminded him that he wasn’t seventeen anymore. His muscles didn’t like working that hard.
I have to do this, he reminded himself, for Thistle, for Hope, and our future.
New strength flushed through him along with his resolve and commitment. The wing thing got easier as he worked through stiff muscles.
He leaped upward, only half-surprised that he kept going as his wings grabbed air. Thistle leaped ahead of him, flying instinctively. He still had to think about it.
She grabbed an extra sword from a Dandelion and tossed him one, too. Great, he had to fight AND fly at the same time. “I can do this. I have to do this.”
“Give up, Thistle Down, you can’t win against me!” Snapdragon taunted. He thrust his sword forward. Lethal poison dripped from the tip.
But his arm wavered just a bit. The toxins gained potency in his system, robbing him of strength.
The medical portion of Dick’s brain noted that the purple-red fungus pockets on Snapdragon’s wings had gr
own to encompass most of the delicate tissue. Hardly any yellow or gold remained.
“Wanna make a bet?” Thistle called back. “Oh, wait a minute, betting is a Faery thing. Of course you’ll take a bet. Before you do, look around you, you crazy mutant. Where’s your army? Where are the Faeries you work for? They’ve abandoned you. All of them. Just like they deserted Pixies when they went underhill. Just like they always do. I have friends. Real friends. They follow me out of love, no magic compulsion. Compulsion is a Faery trick.”
Sure enough, the only Pixies behind Snapdragon were a pathetic gaggle of wilted Dandelions. Long past their prime and ready to hibernate.
“Chicory offers a place within his tribe, to any of you who leave Snapdragon before blood is shed,” Leo announced.
The wilted troop perked up a bit.
“That’s a full place within the tribe, not just drifting around the edges like an outcast weed. We offer a nest inside the attic,” Dick confirmed.
“Um, Dick, have you discussed this with Chicory?” Dusty whispered. She didn’t seem at all surprised to see him shrunk to four inches tall and wearing only a kilt of flower petals.
But then, Dusty had always believed in magic: the magic of Pixies or the magic of a medical miracle that saved her life. It made no difference to her. Indeed, she represented the entire town in that mixture of belief.
“Watch out!” Chase bellowed.
Dick covered his ears and lost air. Something rattled loudly.
Chase drew back his arm and cast a spatula full of ice chunks at Snapdragon. He’d never thrown a better forward pass on the football field.
Snapdragon rose up on his tattered wings and looped around the spreading array of lethal ice.
Thistle darted away to Snapdragon’s other side. “Over here, you bully. You can’t battle both of us,” she sneered, diving in with her own sword pointed at the mutant Pixie’s heart.
Dick thrust himself forward at the same time.
Snapdragon dropped toward Dusty’s hair. The Dandelions whipped in, making a solid wall between the enemy and his prey.
Dick breathed a bit easier as he watched Dusty twirl away, jumping over rocks and downed branches with the grace and ease of the ballerina she always wanted to be.
Another pelting of ice brought confusion and shrieks. The limp Dandelions deserted the battlefield en masse.
“Rosie threw us out on his orders,” one of them whispered to Dick as he zoomed out. “No weeds sullying their pure tribe.”
“Pure, my wings,” Dick retorted. “He’s the one tainting the good name and pure blood of Pixie!”
“Incoming!” Chase warned. He shifted his stance for a new style of attack. Something hard and dark flew from his left hand at the same time more ice shot toward Snapdragon.
Dusty followed up with her own fist full of mud. Right left, left right, ice and dirt pelted Snapdragon. The last lingering Dandelions ducked away in every direction, leaving their flagging leader to face the barrage alone.
Still Snapdragon jabbed at Dick or Thistle, whoever ventured closer. His thrusts went wild, easily parried.
Together, Dick and Thistle drove him closer and closer to Chase and Dusty and their lethal ice chest.
A dirt clod struck Snapdragon squarely between the wings.
He halted in midair, gasping.
“What a pitiful sight,” Dick mused, half aloud. “Much as I hate to do this to any creature, I need to put you out of your misery. Like a rabid dog or a cat gutted by a raccoon.” He dove fast and furious, aiming his sword at his enemy’s heart.
“Put him out of our misery, you mean,” Thistle echoed.
As one, they descended upon the startled Snapdragon. Their swords sank deep into his chest at the same moment, between heartbeats.
Before Dick could grasp the enormity of having killed another sentient being, Dusty lunged beneath them and scooped Snapdragon into her butterfly net. With a deft flick, she deposited the tiny corpse into the ice chest. Chase kicked the lid shut.
And it was over.
“We’ll turn him over to animal control so that they can lift the ban on daytime activities.” Chase grinned hugely. “Wonder what they’ll really see when they do an autopsy?”
Dick almost fell out of the sky, exhausted, winded, triumphant, and sick-at-heart. He had killed someone.
Thistle held out her hand to Dick, settling lightly beside him on a comforting, but cold and wet, tuft. “I never lost your ring. It stayed with me, a constant reminder that we love each other and whatever happened here in Pixie, you and I belong together. I had a job to do. That’s the real reason I left. Not because of you and Hope. I want Hope to be a part of our family. A big, important part.” She smiled, feeling a bit shy at the possibility that something could still go terribly wrong.
Her awareness of the humans watching and listening faded. She needed to concentrate on Dick and only Dick.
“And I appreciate it. I had a job to do first, to truly find my daughter and learn to love her.” He took Thistle’s hand and kissed the ring. “Now how do we get back to our human bodies? There are things we have to talk about, decisions we have to make. And I imagine Chicory is looking a bit strange at six feet tall with blue hair and skin.” He drew in a deep lungful of air. She watched his exhaustion fade to mere tiredness, saw the moment his heart settled into a steady rhythm.
Thistle giggled. “Chicory will last a bit longer.” She looked up, trying to figure out how to reverse the magic that had brought them both to Pixie but must now reject them.
Even as she watched, her tribe crept out of their hiding places. They scurried about, looking to each other for direction. Gradually, Foxglove the younger took control, sending them about their daily forays seeking food and fun.
Thistle smiled. She knew one of them would evolve into leadership without her. She just had to let them do it. Probably, Foxglove had been directing them all along and they only pretended to follow Alder.
She was a sensible one, not terribly aggressive, but practical. She’d see that a treaty got signed and the Patriarch Oak would once again be neutral territory, open to all Pixies.
A broad brown leaf broke loose from the Patriarch Oak and drifted down to land on the pond. It floated in a circle for a moment before the gentle current caught it and dragged it slowly, but relentlessly toward the waterfall where it must tumble from the quiet, timeless peace of the wood into the mortal chaos of humankind below.
“As I climbed the steps from down below,” Thistle said slowly, carefully, “I shrank. So maybe we must fall down to grow big.” She grinned hugely, anticipating the best of all Pixie magic, a mating flight.
Still holding her hand, Dick looked up at the towering oak. When he turned his attention back to her, he rested his forehead against hers. “Um, I’m more than a bit tired, not used to flying and all. Getting up there would be the end of me. I’d not have enough left to get us down safely.”
Thistle placed two fingers into her mouth and blew a long shrieking whistle. A male varied thrush responded with an inquiring chirrup before landing on top of the flat rock. He turned his head right and left, catching them in his strange gaze. The bright stripes of orange and black along his back and wings rippled and fluttered with minute shifts of his wings.
“You should have a net made of vines to hold you while he lifts you to your bower,” Dusty said. She crouched beside the rock.
“Not necessary for so short a flight,” Thistle said with confidence. “This guy is an old friend. He helped me once before.” She laughed again at how eagerly the bird had flown Milkweed in her net on a long and diverse path to her wedding. A wedding that had been delayed so long it never took place. She hoped she hadn’t cursed her own wedding with her side trip back into Pixie.
Not wanting to think about that yet, she climbed aboard the bird’s back between neck and wing. Dick scrambled up behind her, desperately holding tight around her waist.
A few sharp wingbeats brought them to the upper re
aches of the old oak tree. Thistle eagerly jumped free of the bird and grabbed onto a twig that supported one of the last leaves of the season. Dick followed her, more falling than scrambling. She caught his arm and steadied him.
He looked over the edge of their tiny branch. “That’s a long way down.” He gulped. His transparent wings stilled. His breathing grew rapid and shallow.
“That’s why a mating flight is so special,” she replied. “It takes courage, commitment, and trust. And calm. Breathe deeply and think about a soft and gentle ending rather than the wild and precipitous beginning.”
“That’s what getting married is all about.” He held her close and kissed her long and hard.
Electric tingles sprang from the diamond-and-amethyst ring up her arms to her head and down to her feet. She shivered in delight.
“Let’s do this before I chicken out,” he said, looking into her eyes rather than down the great distance of the oak’s challenge.
Thistle turned within the circle of his arms, making sure to flatten her wings. “This is all up to you, love. I can’t help you. But I trust you. Come what may, we make this flight together. We end it together, joined for all time.”
Thistle squeaked as Dick filled her body and her soul with his love.
“Say good-bye to Pixie,” she said in wonder as they stepped off the topmost branch into the air.
An updraft caught them, driving them upward. Wisely, Dick let it take them where it would, away from the entrapment of the spreading branches. “Use the lift to steady your wings,” she coaxed.
He did.
All too soon, the air released them. They dropped dramatically. Thistle’s heart formed a huge lump in her throat. She resisted the urge to break free and save herself. She had to trust him.
Then he remembered to set his wings to working. Their descent slowed. They had a few moments to relish the glory of spiraling flight while joined in the intimacy of mating.
He buried his face in her hair, breathing heavily as he strained to maintain and control their flight.
His wings began to fail and the ground rushed toward them at an alarming rate. But suddenly it didn’t seem as far away as it should.
Chicory Up: The Pixie Chronicles Page 28