Cold Burn of Magic(46)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Felix and I went down to the dining hall. He handed the herbs off to a pixie, then we sat down at a table and kept talking. I liked him. He really was a chatterbox who wasn’t happy unless his mouth was going at least a hundred words a minute. The only time he was quiet was when he was eating. Even then, he still tried to talk with his mouth full.

Speaking of food, the eats tonight were as good as they had been at breakfast. Thick, hearty, roast beef sandwiches with ooey, gooey wads of melted Swiss cheese and piled high with fresh tomatoes, crispy lettuce, and tangy slices of red onion. A horseradish dressing gave the sandwiches a spicy kick, and homemade potato chips provided some salty crunch to the meal. The pixies had sprinkled the fresh dill from the greenlab onto the chips, giving them even more savory flavor. Trays of fresh fruit and brownies with a molten chocolate center were served for dessert. I set a few strawberries aside on a napkin to take back to my room for Tiny. Oscar might not like me, but that was no reason for the tortoise to suffer.

After dinner, Felix asked if I wanted to hang out in the game room and play some pool, but I turned him down. It had been a long day and I wanted some time to myself. After being alone for so long, being constantly surrounded by people was a little exhausting.

I went back to my room, opened the door, and stepped inside. Oscar must have worked hard while I’d been out because my suitcase wasn’t on the bed anymore. I opened the closet door. Sure enough, the suitcase had been moved to the back corner. All of Ashley’s things were gone, replaced by my clothes, although my few pairs of jeans, shorts, cargo pants, and T-shirts took up a pitifully small amount of space. I closed the door on the depressing sight.

And that wasn’t the only thing Oscar had done. He’d made up the bed and pulled the sheets back. A basket of apples and oranges sat on the table in front of the TV, and a fresh assortment of soaps and lotions were lined up on the counter inside the bathroom. I grinned. I could totally get used to this.

I went over to the pixie house to thank Oscar, but all the curtains and shades were drawn. There was no sign of him, although more honeybeer cans littered the yard. I wrinkled my nose at the sour stench.

Oscar might not be around, but Tiny was in his corral, slowly wandering from one side to the other. It was the first time I’d seen him actually move.

“Here you go, little fella.”

I dropped the strawberries I’d saved for him into the corral. Tiny waddled over and sniffed them before sticking his beak into one of the berries. I stroked my finger over his soft, velvety head. Tiny blinked back with black eyes. I took that as a thank-you. I left him to munch on his treats and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom and clicked off the light. I turned around to head for the bed—

Something zipped in front of my face.

I batted my hand in the air, thinking it was a bee, before I realized it was Oscar—and he wasn’t happy.

The pixie crossed his arms over his chest, gave me an angry glare, then zoomed over to his house, dropping down and landing on a fence post at Tiny’s corral. Oscar was wearing jeans with holes in the knees, along with a black, faded T-shirt. Black cowboy boots with sharp silver tips once again covered his tiny feet.

Oscar stabbed his finger at the tortoise, who was munching on the last of the berries. “What. Is. That?” he demanded.

I went over and scratched Tiny’s head again. “Those are some strawberries I had left over from dinner. I thought Tiny might like them.”

The tortoise opened his mouth and let out a small, satisfied sound. Okay, that burp was definitely a thank-you.

“I would have brought you some, too. But I didn’t want you to throw them at me.”

Oscar snorted. “I wouldn’t have thrown them at you. I would have smashed them in your face.”

I had to admire his fighting spirit, since I was almost ten times his size.

“You do not bring Tiny anything,” Oscar snapped. “No berries, no fruit, no treats of any kind. He’s my pet, not yours, and you’d do well to remember that.”


I bent down so that I was eye-to-eye with the pixie. “Listen, pal, you may not like me, and that’s fine. I don’t much like being saddled with you, the world’s smallest, honeybeer-swilling redneck cowboy, either. But Tiny and I don’t have any problems, and if I want to bring him treats every single day of the week and twice on Sundays, then I will do exactly as I please. You got that?”

Oscar put his hands on his hips. “You better watch your tone with me, cupcake. I can make your life miserable.”

“Really? How so?”

His eyes narrowed to slits so thin I could just barely make out his violet glare. “Itching powder in your bed. Fleas on your clothes. Garbage tucked into the toes of your ratty sneakers. All the usual pixie tricks.”

“Do your worst, pal. Do your worst.”

“Oh,” he snarled. “I will.”

“Promises, promises,” I mocked him.

“Why, you . . . you . . . you!”

That was all Oscar sputtered before he fluttered over to his front porch, wrenched open the door, stalked inside, and slammed it shut behind him so hard that the entire trailer rattled on the table.

In the corral, Tiny kept right on munching on his last strawberry, as calm as ever, totally used to Oscar’s snits. I had a feeling I was going to have to get used to them, too.