A Twisted Treasure, Pixie Twist #4 ebook

Gunshots rang out behind me.

I ducked, popped pixie, and corkscrewed to land on the pier shop’s window ledge on the outside of the Hippodrome. Had mundanes been around, I wouldn’t have been able to go pixie, but when bullets are flying, being small makes me less likely to get hit.

Officer Harold, gun drawn, pointed it at the deck of the pier, scanning the crowd. Tiny bits of colored paper drifted in the breeze around Harold’s ankles. Snickers and giggles drifted through the sparse patrons on St. Mo’s pier this morning.

“Just firecrackers, Brother Officer,” Hippie the pier busker said as he pulled the cart with his sound equipment and guitar along for his morning stint on the pier. “Those brother teens look like they might know something.” 

Hippie nodded toward two young teen boys darting around the Hippodrome’s far corner. 

“Police. Stop, you two!” Harold shouted and charged after them.

I popped tall again. Good thing this was fae-only hour on the pier. 

“Oh, good show!” Mortimer Bluescales, resident mini dragon, stuck his fluffy gray cat head through the open door. 

A thinner green cat face popped out next to him.

“Teleporting firecrackers is nothing, mate. Popping a full-sized human takes a lot of energy.” Basil, the Australian mini dragon, said. “I figured you were too slow to get those crackers out in time. A teleport spell for something little like that is easy.”

“So…” I knelt down next to the mini dragons in cat form. “Those two boys tossed the firecrackers into the Hippodrome? And Basil magicked them outside right behind Officer Harold? I was walking by right then.”

“Sorry, mate,” Basil said. He sounded sincere. “The stinkers tossed them right on Mr. Droll’s trains.”

“Actually, they landed on the new station house in the San Diego section,” said Mort. “I installed that station last week. They could have set fire to a good section of the layout.” He turned toward Basil. “I believe I shall reward you with a chili-cheese dog.”

“Make it four.” Basil grinned, which always looked strange, or maybe a tad evil, on their cat faces. “We should get a tray of them for our expedition.”

The green mini dragon ducked back inside. 

“I told you,” Mort said, following, “I refuse to go on a leaky boat to catch fish. This is a coastal town. We can purchase fish and chips, already caught and cooked, practically anywhere local.”

I headed back out toward Beanzies. The order window was open, and a customer was just leaving with their coffee as I limped up.

“What is the big announcement you texted me about?” I asked Amanda. “Someone to run against Penny Parler?”

“Umm… Maybe.” Amanda passed me a bright-neon-green flyer. “This Friday at the pier. Big announcement.”

“You and Mary Pat find your victim for the campaign?” That was what the flyer was about. “Pier Committee Candidate Announcement. Food, fun, politics and such,” I said, paraphrasing the text from the bright-green paper. 

“We have to protect our favorite real estate broker, you know. Now that you’ve made it official, and moved out of Penny’s district. Mary Pat has been pulling all sorts of favors to find someone. We have to win at least one seat on the council this cycle to save the pier.”

“Today’s Monday. The announcement is not until Friday. You’re not even going to tell me who is running?” I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation. 

“Back in a minute. Got to take the rolls out.” She pushed her tall chair back from the service window and shifted her mermaid tail into human legs. Her arms dropped into the cuffs of her aluminum elbow crutches. 

Beanzies wasn’t a huge shop, and most of the pastry dough was made elsewhere, then baked here on the pier. That made the pastries not as great as Nikki Flannigan’s at NaughTea Nibbles, but not as generic as pre-packaged ones at the convenience mart. That was the trade-off of a shop on the pier, where space was a premium. The food shops kept things simple and outsourced what they could.

“Hey, Twiz.” Larry Lloyd rolled up behind me. “Who’s running?” 

“She won’t tell me. Just handed me a flyer about Friday.”

Amanda propped herself back on her tall chair behind the window. She had the tray of pastries and the tub of icing next to her, and started smeared the icing across the rolls.

“Well… you had to go move in with Mr. Undead and Hunky,” Amanda teased. “Good thing Mort had right of first refusal on the newly vacated space in the Hippodrome, or Penny Parler would have had the demolition foreperson set up in your old apartment.”

“Yeah. You can’t even vote in this district anymore.” Larry sighed. “You’re stuck voting for Star Sinclair.”

“Am not. I’ll vote for whomever is running against her.” I had just changed my voter registration address over to Rapier Place. The last thing I wanted was a cry of voter impropriety when I had just started my brokerage here in St. Maurice. 

“Who’s running against Star? You?” Amanda suggested. “You’re in her district. We thought we had someone, but they dropped. No other candidate has declared, and Friday is the last day to file.”

“I promised to stay out of politics, and Star leaves my business alone.” Which was true. Hoppy had seen to that with a geas spell. Star and I both made the pledge, and Hop set the geas to do something nasty to whomever reneged. I really didn’t want to know what penalty he had set.

“Don’t want to turn into a three-eyed troll, huh?” Larry laughed. “Even if Star is the only candidate, you can write in an opponent.”

“Oh! Maybe I should. Captain Renard’s old mansion is in her district. Surely a long-dead shipping-line owner would be a better town council member than Star.”

Amanda pushed one of the rolls toward me. “Taste test. Need a pixie opinion on the new recipe I asked for.”

Larry looked back at me. “Captain Renard, the old smuggler turned pirate? Aren’t you trying to sell that mansion?” 

“Not Renard’s.” I let the aroma of the freshly baked roll and sweet sugary icing drift around me. Just what a pixie needed this early. “I’ve got the other captain’s mansion. Corbin Corbie’s son just listed his with me yesterday. I’ve got a showing scheduled for this morning.”

“Oooh! That’ll be a nice commission. And maybe we should work on getting you elected in Star’s district as a write-in candidate. If we make the push, and you don’t know anything about it, then Hoppy’s geas won’t affect you.”

I paused, fork in the air with a gooey hunk of pastry waiting. “I told Star I’d stay out of politics. Even if you got me through the election that way, I would have to refuse the office.”

Larry laughed. “A pixie-sized troll would be scary.” He pushed his power chair forward. “Can I get a strawberry iced? Gotta get to Mom’s shop. With luck, my package will be here today.”

“Ordering more books?”

“No… um… electronic stuff.” Larry scrunched his lips tight and jerked his eyes down, as though he didn’t want to tell me what was in the package. 

“You going to be ready with that?” Amanda asked him and passed him his drink.

Larry gave a nod. “Should be. I may need Chaz’s help on a few things.” 

“You!” I leveled a finger at him, not sure what he was up to. “Keep me and my boyfriend out of politics. I’ll back anyone who supports saving the pier. But I’m not running. Not even as a sneaky write-in.”

“Eat your pastry, Twiz.” Amanda giggled. “You’re grumpy when you haven’t had enough sweets.” 

I shoved the bite into my mouth and stared at her, trying to do an impression of my mother, the elementary school teacher, glaring at a misbehaving student.

Amanda pointed a finger and gave me a motherly glare, then laughed. “You need to go visit your mom if you want to pull off that look. Is she speaking to you yet?”

“Well… Dad got her to yell ‘Hi, Twiz!’ when I called him last night. That’s the first time I’ve heard her voice since I moved in with Chaz.”

“Kinda weird, her giving you the silent treatment instead of the other way around.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. I kinda miss the old way of having a conversation that eventually devolved into her pushing me to have pixie babies.”

“You going to invite her out to see the house?”

“Well…” I rolled my eyes. “We think she’s been doing flyovers some evenings. Chaz asked Hoppy to put up a pixie ward around the place. It’s keyed so I’m the only pixie that can get close to the house. The only way in is via the front door for all other pixies.”

“Ooooo! That must have honked her off! No spying on the daughter. No peeping through the windows.” Amanda laughed. 

“Be careful. You may be doing the same when your tads get old enough for you to follow them around.”

“Well, I’m the parent. I need to make sure they’re not out doing something dangerous like teasing predators.”

I paused, my fork in the air with another bite of the pastry. “Is that really something teen merfolk do to prove their bravery? Go tease a shark?”

“Actually, yes,” a Russian accented male voice cut in. “I’ve had my tail tugged by young merfolk several times. My apologies for interrupting.”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Those poor tads. Did you eat them?” 

Aleks Baronov, leader of the local wereshark shiver, shook his head. “Of course not. We know that your teen merfolk use it as a rite of passage. So we shift back into our hybrid forms. That scares the youngsters away. Though a few years ago I had one girl so frightened, she froze. Shifted to that statue form merfolk use when they’ve been spotted by a mundane. Wouldn’t move at all. Finally, Yuri bumped her from behind. She shifted back, screamed, and swam away. I would have hated swimming her back to her family frozen like that.”

“Oh!” I almost shivered at that thought. “A hybrid wereshark pulling a frozen mermaid into the mer-town. That wouldn’t have gone over well.”

Aleks nodded. “Tridents and wands would be the least of our worries in that instance. We really should have a meeting with the mer-council and work to repair our relationship.”

Amanda bit her lip and glanced between Aleks and me. Amanda’s father was on the mer-council. I doubted she’d volunteer to be a go-between, though.

Two teens darted past Beanzies, turned, and ducked down the short alley between it and the Pier Shack next door. A few seconds later, Officer Harold chugged along, breathing heavily in his beach patrol uniform of shorts, a blue polo shirt with his badge embroidered on it, and an SMPD ball cap. He looked around, scowling. I caught his eye and discreetly jabbed a finger at the alley. Those boys, with their seemingly harmless prank, deserved a good lecture from Harold.

The officer nodded and tapped two fingers to his cap in a salute, then jogged down the alley after the boys.

“Need a coffee before we head up to Corbie Mansion?” I asked Aleks, then looked behind him at Yuri. 

The hulking wereshark bodyguard pointed at my mostly empty plate. “Roll. And coffee.” 

“Make it two coffees, but only one roll.” Aleks slid his wand from his sleeve. He held it over the pay pad while Amanda rang up the order. Her shoulders were tense. They went that way whenever one of the weresharks was around.

She stayed quiet while she passed the paper cups out, then the roll for Yuri. The wereshark bodyguard plopped onto one of the metal benches. Aleks poured a bit of cream into his coffee and gave it a stir, watching his compatriot.

“Sometimes, I believe he is part pixie. Such a sweet tooth in him.”

Amanda pointed a finger at Aleks. “You just keep your teeth to yourself and away from our tads.”

I sucked in a breath. Amanda’s prejudice against what she considered a predator might be founded on past truths, but in the month I’d been dealing with Aleks and his fellow weresharks, they’d been nothing but courteous to everyone around them.

“Peace and love, little sisters.” Hippie’s voice interrupted the tense moment. 

Amanda’s eyes flicked to the busker, wearing his typical tie-dyed tunic and shorts. He flashed a peace sign at me and Amanda. He had finished setting up his gear across from the coffee shop and was here for his morning beverage.

Aleks extended his hand toward Hippie. “Your show this weekend was very entertaining. My fiancée especially enjoyed your Beatles compilation.”

Hippie shook hands, and his eyes lit up. Most fae, at least here in St. Mo, let a bit of their magical nature leak through in a handshake. Aleks must have shared his shifter nature.

“Blessings to her, and my thanks, Brother Shark,” Hippie said. 

“We are in discussions with your director, Mary Pat,” Aleks said, letting his eyes slide between Hippie and Amanda, “about hiring talent from the cabaret at the Double Clam for shows on our boat. Yelena is overseeing the addition of a small theatre.”

“Interesting, Brother Shark.” Hippie tilted his head as he considered the idea. “Will that decrease the patrons here on the pier? My busker brothers and sisters would miss their income if it did.”

“We’ll grow as St. Maurice grows,” Aleks said. “No faster. Our idea is to work with the town to keep the pier and enhance it. We should give fae across the world every reason to visit our little town, and to stay as long as they like.”

“Save the pier?” Amanda asked. Her cocked head said she was interested, but her frown said she didn’t really want to believe him.

“Yes.” Aleks shifted his eyes back to her. “My business is part of St. Maurice. My people are a part of this community. What helps one of us, helps all of us.”

He held her gaze for a moment. Eventually, Amanda’s eyes jerked toward me. Just keep your mouth shut and listen, I thought, hoping she’d be reasonable. The weresharks were attempting to be good citizens. I really wanted her to give them a chance.

Aleks slid his phone from the inner pocket of his gray jacket. He flipped through a few screens, then nodded. 

“I thought so. Yelena is heading our search for entertainers.” Aleks looked up with a polite smile. “Miss Amanda, your voice, your performance at the show this weekend was one that she took notice of. She hopes that you’ll consider accepting a contract once we open the theatre.”