I looked out the window. Sure enough, at the back of the garden near Linda’s bench, a man with furry legs and cloven hooves was hopping up and down trying to catch Fair Konig. “What the hell is that thing?”
“I don’t know.” Marigold came around me and peered out the window. “The little dude needs help. He is completely outsized. Why isn’t he just flying away?”
It was a reasonable question. “I’ll go find out.” I reached for the doorknob. “Call Keir.”
Marigold grabbed her purse and dug around for her cell phone. “Maybe you should wait for him.”
“Maybe, but I’m not going to.” I shooed her toward the living room. “Let Keir know what’s going on. Tell him to bring Lu. We might need the backup.”
“What about Zev? You know…if he’s still in town.”
I gave her a bland look. “Just call Keir. Whoever shows up, shows up. I’ll go out and see what the, uhm, the goat guy wants.”
“Sure, go talk to the goat guy,” she said incredulously. “That’ll turn out well.”
“I promised to protect Fair Konig and his troupe.” Apparently, I’d already failed miserably with his wife. I couldn’t fail him again now. “No matter what happens,” I told her. “Stay inside.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” As parting words, she added, “Don’t set yourself on fire.”
“Good tip. But I’m not planning to use any magic if I can help it.” I’d done enough damage to Southill Village in the past, including causing the community pool to crack open and drain while it was full of local kids, all because I was trying to use earth magic to split a pebble. Even though I’d managed to become one with earth and fire magic, my aero-craft magic had been unpredictable and difficult to control. I didn’t want to accidentally send a cyclone tearing through my neighbors’ homes by inadvertently calling on the one element I hadn’t mastered.
“See you on the flip side.” I tipped my head to her and ran out the back door, slamming it behind me.
The goat-legged creature howled as one of Fair Konig’s sharp wings cut into its forearm. He had enormous horns, like a curled-horned mountain goat, that were coiled close to his head, acting as bookends for his skull.
The man-goat sprang seven or eight feet into the air, trying to grab its prey, but the pixie king kept flying out of reach. Why was the winged idiot hanging around and not trying to get away?
“Hey!” I shouted, flapping my arms to get the creature’s attention. “Pick on someone your own size.”
He turned his gaze on me, and I got a good look at his face. He had brown hair, light golden eyes, and extremely attractive symmetrical features that made him appear ethereal. Holy crap. He looked like an angel. An angel with horns and the legs and hooves of a goat.
Shit. Was he Lucifer? After all, the fallen angel had been depicted as having horns and hooves in a lot of books and artworks. “Uhm, get behind me, Satan.”
Goat-boy smiled. “Well, hello.”
He was so ridiculous. Still, I giggled. “You should go.”
Fair Konig did a flyby near my head. “He’s got Annibish!”
I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of vindication on my familiar’s behalf. “I told you it wasn’t Bob.”
“Not the point,” the pixie admonished. “That hooved beast took my Annibish, and he won’t give her back unless I give him my Feenstaub!”
“Give me the pixie, sweeting, and I’ll give you a kiss,” Goat-boy said.
I laughed. “You can kiss my ass.”
“An attractive offer to be sure,” he said. “I accept.”
My ears grew hot. “Ew, no. That wasn’t an offer.”
“Too bad, sweeting.” He tilted his head to the left as he examined me. “You have a comely arse.” He stared at my boobs. “And methinks the apples are ripe in your garden. I would kiss them as well, plucking each stem until you beg me to taste your fruit.”
This fucking guy, man. Who the hell talked like this? I’d been mildly amused initially, but he was pissing me off now. “You’re barking up the wrong witch, asshole.”
“Aye, it’s true. I have an arsehole like everyone else. I’m fixing to show it to you if you don’t hand over the wee one.”
“Tell me where my Annibish is,” Fair Konig demanded. “I’ll not ask again.”
“Truer than true,” the goat-guy said. “Because I don’t plan to answer. Not until you give me what I want.”
“What do you want with the pixie dust?” I asked, stalling for time. If Marigold managed to contact Keir on the phone, he was probably twenty minutes from getting here. I wasn’t sure how to stop the devil, so a little help from the paranormal expert would be much appreciated.
His gaze met mine. “I can feel your energy, love. It’s strong. Powerful.” He shook his head. “But there is a fight for control between you and the magic. You’re very close to losing.”
I was doing just fine, damn it. I didn’t need some angel-demon telling me I was failing. “Thank you for the assessment, Dr. Horny. I didn’t ask for a house call.”
He made wet kissing noises, then narrowed his golden eyes, lowered his head, and sprinted right at me. Yikes, I was feet from a head butt.
“Get out of the way!” I warned Fair Konig, pushing him one way while launching myself in the opposite direction.
I grunted as my shoulder clipped a paving stone as I rolled away. The devil hit the aluminum clapboard siding on my house and put a dent in it.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Not cool.” Goat guy shook his head as if the blow had rattled him, then he grinned.
Fair Konig flew up behind the hooved asshat, his sword out. I wasn’t sure what his tiny sword could do against the creature. It turned out not much, as the hairy-legged dude whipped around and snatched the pixie king from the air. “Aye, gotcha, I did.”
His human-looking fingers were bloody as the pixie’s wings sliced and diced, but the goat guy didn’t let go. On the contrary, he laughed and laughed as if the pixie were tickling him.
I’d learned a few fighting moves from Luanne, but my next move was all Linda. I grabbed a handful of dirt and pea gravel from a nearby flower bed as I got to my feet, and then I chucked it right into the laughing creature’s smug face.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and turned a menacing glare in my direction. “T’was not very nice, sweeting.” He squeezed Fair Konig’s body in his fist, and the pixie began to turn blue. “The wee beasty can give me his dust, or I’ll kill him and his mate for kicks and giggles, then no one will get the dust.”
“Wait.” I was confused about how pixie dust was harvested, apparently. He had the pixie king literally in hand. Why couldn’t he just take Fair Konig’s magic sprinkles? “Just ease up there,” I said. I held my hands up like a magician with nothing up her sleeves. “Don’t be hasty.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw the backyard gate slowly open. Marigold poked her head inside. Damn it. I told her to stay in the house. Even so, I tried not to react. I didn’t want the goat guy to turn his attention to her.
“Heeeeeeeey,” I said loudly, trying to cover the slight squeak of the hinges as she slipped inside the gate. “Let’s all take a breath here.” I twirled my hand with a flourish toward the pixie. “Literally. Fair Konig is turning an unflattering shade of gray. If you kill him now, you get nothing,” I guessed because I didn’t actually know. If I got the pixie out of this alive, I would have a much longer talk with him about his supernatural spunk, or whatever it was.
I wanted to give a head shake to Marigold, who was tip-toeing along the fence, but any warning might give her away.
“You know what,” I told the half-man. “Why don’t we find some common ground here? I don’t want the pixie dead, and you don’t want him dead. Not really.” Fair Konig was still struggling, but his wings and swings were only moving half-heartedly. I wasn’t sure how much longer he could survive getting the stuffing squeezed out of him. “Let’s talk this out. What’s your name?”
“All right, lover. We’ll play your game. My name is Sylva.”
“Sylva,” I said. Then in a poor Groucho Marx imitation, I added, “You look like a gold to me.” At least it wasn’t Lucifer. It shot my theory of him being the devil out of the water. You know, unless the devil had decided to change his name. I mean, I did. These things happened. It wasn’t unusual for someone, even Lucifer, to want a fresh start.
Sylva’s forehead wrinkled. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“Unfortunately, I am. You know, you got gold eyes, not silver, so not Sylva. It was a poor attempt at humor. Just trying to lighten the mood.” Poor Fair Konig. His movements were turning sluggish, and his head hung to one side. “No pixie dust if you kill him,” I reminded Sylva.
He sighed, then eased his grip. I could hear the pixie’s gasp as his normal color started to return to his face.
“That’s a great start, Sylva.”
“Now tell me your name, my witchy paramour.” He smiled, and I noticed his teeth were almost squares, like that of a horse. It made his ethereal looks a little less angelic.
Marigold had picked up a large shovel and was sneaking up behind Sylva. Oh, Marigold. What in the world was she doing? This wasn’t going to end well.
“I’m Iris,” I told him. “Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement with the fairy dust.”
“I am not a fairy!” Fair Konig complained. “Don’t ever call me that, you ignorant Hexe!” His rant lasted for several more seconds, and it distracted Sylva enough that he didn’t notice my sister bringing the shovel down on his head. The move managed to do little but startle the cloven-hooved pixie squeezer as the shovel clanged off his dense skull.
Marigold dropped the shovel and stumbled backward as he turned his gaze on her. “Another nymph comes to play with Sylva’s pipe. Your pouty lips will wet my reed, and together, we’ll make beautiful music.”
“Uh, no, thank you,” Marigold said as her backside hit the fence. “I’m not really into music.”
“You’ll change your tune, dearest one, when I bring your song to its ultimate climax. You’ll never want to play another instrument again.”
“Cut the double-entendres. That’s my sister, and she won’t be coming anywhere near your…instrument.”
His lips curled up in a grin. “You know what they say, once you go satyr, you’re never a hater.”
Oh, boy. This guy was a satyr. It made sense. Horny half-man, half-goat. I was kicking myself for not thinking of it in the first place. Only, the mythology didn’t quite measure up to the guy standing in front of me. “I thought satyrs were dumb, clumsy, ugly creatures who only thought about drinking wine and screwing nymphs.” I shrugged. “I mean, you don’t seem all that clumsy to me.”
His grin turned into a scowl. “You’re a feisty one.”
“That’s what I hear.”
Sylva stuffed Fair Konig into an opening in his fur.
I wrinkled my nose in horror. Unless he had pockets, I could only hazard a guess that the pixie king was currently nestled against Sylva’s anatomical pipes and maracas. Eeek.
He whipped around and made a grab for Marigold.
“No!” I shouted when she let out a scream.
I considered calling on fire or earth to help me stop Sylva, but Fair Konig was tucked inside the satyr’s hairy underpants—for lack of a more accurate term—and anything I did to the awful creature could hurt the pixie king. Instead, I ran at the jackass’s backside and lunged at him. I grabbed both his horns, then jumped up and kicked the back of his knees with both feet.
Not my best plan. The satyr landed backward on top of me. His tail swished against my stomach as he paddled his feet, trying to get up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and squeezed as hard as I could. Damn, Rose’s training had given me some rock-hard thighs. Sylva started throwing elbows back at me, and I had to tuck my arms under his back to maintain my grip on his horns.
“Let me go!” he bellowed.
I couldn’t see what was going on above me, but he let out another howl of pain, and I heard Marigold say, “How do you like that tune, asshole? It’s called shovel to the face.” Then she added, “Next on the playlist is a shovel to the nuts.”
“Don’t!” I shouted. “Fair Konig is near his nuts.”
“Got it,” Marigold said. “Then I’ll stick with an encore.”
“Bitch!” Sylva wheezed. “You broke my nose.” Unable to loosen my grip on his body or horns, he raised his head then head-butted me in the face.
Marigold shouted, “Iris!”
I saw stars as he pulled his head back up for another smashing blow.
I was dazed and most likely concussed, which made it harder to fight Sylva off. He managed to turn his torso, and he punched me in the stomach and the ribs, knocking the wind from me. I couldn’t breathe. On the verge of passing out, I prepared myself for the next hit. The wind began to pick up fallen leaves around me as I started losing consciousness. He can’t hurt the wind. It must be nice, I thought, because I was in a lot of pain.
Sylva fell away from me. I heard some metal against rock and bone, then my sister Marigold stood over me, a bloody shovel in her hand.
I rasped out. “Run.”
She knelt down next to me. “Don’t worry about that goat bastard. He can’t hurt you anymore,” she said. Her dark hair was loose and wild, flying around her as if she’d rubbed her head against a balloon. Her eyes were wide with shock. “I chopped his head off. Are you…are you…Iris, are you okay?”
“I’ll live.” I hoped. “Hel…help me up,” I told her. I went up on an elbow and collapsed to the ground as if there was nothing there to support me. I glanced over and blinked a few times to clear my vision. “Oh, God,” I said. “My arm is missing.” Where my arm had been, there was a swirl of dust and other garden debris as if my arm had been replaced by the wind.
“Iris, it’s not just your arm,” Marigold said. “Your whole midsection is gone.”
I glanced down and groaned. “How is this my life?”