Lying on his back on the cold stone floor, Kevin stared up at the ceiling and tried not to scratch his chest. The complicated sigil Iassonia had carved into it itched like a motherfucker.
“You’re sure this is going to work?” Kevin had asked, wincing as the gnome dug the swirling pattern into his skin with a tiny but impressively sharp knife. He found himself wondering where people that small shopped for clothing and equipment. Was there a gnome store somewhere? Did they deliver by pixie? The world just kept getting stranger.
“Um, no, I’m not…completely sure,” Iassonia admitted. She paused to drop a handful of herbs into the gently bleeding wound, as she had every few steps across his chest. “I’ve never done this before.”
Kevin looked up at her in shock. “Never?”
She hesitated, looking a bit nervous. From his perch atop Kevin’s left shoe, Yagor explained. “Iassonia is studying the gnomish dark arts as part of an online certification program. She’s at the top of her class.”
His wife blushed. “Thanks, kissy-berry.”
“You’re welcome, snugglepuss.”
When Iassonia finished, she and Yagor promised to stay close and levitated back up through the shattered window. Iassonia weaved a quick spell over the gaping hole to make it appear as if nothing were amiss. From just the right angle, the fake window shimmered in a way that made its density suspect. Kevin hoped Thisolanipusintarex would be in such a rush that he wouldn’t look at it too closely. Yagor had cleaned up all the glass shards from the real window.
Which meant all Kevin had left to do was wait and hope to hell that whatever Iassonia had done to him would have some effect on Rex. All he needed was a chance to get his hands on the little bastard. Even if the magic on his chest misfired, it might still be enough of a distraction to get the job done.
“That’s never going away, you know,” Rotreego muttered. He’d propped himself against the wall. His head hung between his legs, his long blond hair pooling over his kneecaps.
“What’s never going away?”
“That little tattoo the vermin gave you. It’s going to scar.”
“I’d rather have a scar in my chest than a tiny winged asshole.”
“Whatever.”
Kevin still wasn’t sure exactly what Iassonia had done, but there was no question she had done something. He could feel the power coursing through the winding line like some sort of parasitic worm roving back and forth under his skin. To Rotreego, he supposed, the analogy couldn’t have been more appropriate. He kept it to himself.
Time passed, though Kevin couldn’t tell how much and didn’t care to guess. Hours, at least. The light streaming in through the fake window had lessened considerably when the rumble of Mr. Gregson’s van signaled the pixie’s return. Taking a deep breath, Kevin steeled himself for what was to come. The sigil, Iassonia had explained, was keyed to the beating of Rex’s wings. He’d have to remove Kevin’s shirt—or part of it, at least—to perform the operation necessary for implanting the glass container. When that happened, the gnome’s magic would trigger, and then… well, Iassonia hadn’t been particularly clear. She’d only recently completed her second lesson in gnomish blood scrawl and didn’t quite have all the particulars down as of yet.
Regardless, Kevin couldn’t have been more grateful for her help. For all the ridiculous ways they’d subtly annoyed him and his mother over the years, the gnomes infesting his home had turned out to be all right in his book. If he got out of this, he’d promised them he was going to buy five new extension cords for them to have their mischievous way with, which pleased Yagor a great deal.
Kevin cringed at the sound of the front door swinging open and then slamming back shut. Happy whistling trickled down through the floorboards. He couldn’t quite place the familiar tune, but his pounding heart kept time anyway.
Something heavy came tumbling down the basement stairs, clanging dully against the old wood. The crystal ball ricocheted off the far wall and bounced toward the cages, finally rolling to an ominous stop against the front of Kevin’s cell. Slender golden filaments spread through the glass orb like veins through flesh.
Rex zipped down into the basement and up to the cages, a brown paper shopping bag hovering behind him. “How’s my new favorite outfit?” the pixie asked.
Kevin rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s always awkward at first. We’ll get used to each other.”
The shopping bag turned onto its side and dumped its contents onto the floor. A variety of tools, blades, and clamps Kevin had never seen clattered down to the stone, along with a loaf of bread and a plastic jar of peanut butter.
“I thought you might need a snack,” Rex said.
“And that’s the best you could do?”
“You could have some Rotreego if you like.”
“I’ll pass. Elf gives me the shits.”
The cage door swung open and the pixie flittered inside. That familiar grip took hold of Kevin’s body and lifted him up off the floor, rotating him forward to face Thisolanipusintarex. Kevin swallowed in a suddenly dry throat, mentally crossing his fingers that Iassonia’s magic would work. If it didn’t, he was about to lose some very important pieces and parts.
“Why’s there blood soaking through your shirt?”
Kevin’s heart skipped a beat. Though Iassonia had cleaned up her work when she finished, the wound must have reopened somewhere. He couldn’t move his head to check.
Luckily, Rotreego stepped in. “Hey, pixie dick! Why are you so interested in that waste of meat when you’ve got a filet fucking mignon standing right over here? How typical! I’d forgotten that your species isn’t exactly known for its intelligence or its attention span. Something to do with the size of your brain, you think? Can’t fit too much gray matter in that tiny melon of yours, huh?”
The pixie frowned and his little wings beat faster. He sent Kevin flying into the hard stone wall with a wave of his tiny hand. Pain flared through Kevin’s spine and skull as he collapsed onto the floor, the room spinning around him.
Rex zipped back out of Kevin’s cage and into Rotreego’s. The elf rose up off his feet, his body suddenly rigid as his captor’s magic took hold. Hovering less than an inch from Rotreego’s nose, the pixie crossed his arms and scowled.
“Don’t worry, my pointy-eared entree!” he crowed. “Once I’m done with Felton’s minor procedure, my new skin and I are going to throw one hell of a dinner party—and you’ll be the main course!”
Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear the stars from his eyes, Kevin fumbled awkwardly for the hem of his shirt. Iassonia hadn’t been too clear about the range of her sigil, she’d merely said that Rex would have to be “close.” Kevin suspected she didn’t really know what that meant. Hopefully the eight or so feet between his cage and Rotreego’s counted as “close.”
“I think I’d rather be dessert,” Rotreego deadpanned, stalling. “I’d make a great mousse. But what would a little shit like you know about gourmet cooking, anyway? Whaddaya got, maybe six taste buds?”
Sitting with his right shoulder against the wall and contorting his torso toward the other cage, Kevin’s fingers found purchase on the bottom of his shirt. He yanked the thin fabric up over his face triumphantly, ready to enjoy the end of the evil neighbor who had tormented his family for so long. Nothing happened.
“Ah, fuck,” he swore under his breath, defeated.
Attracted by Kevin’s cursing, Rex turned and flitted to the near side of Rotreego’s cell to get a closer look. “What the hell—”
The pixie’s question was drowned out by the roaring blast of hot white light that erupted from Kevin’s chest. It sounded like a tidal wave colliding with a cliff face and burned as if someone had lit a fire in Kevin’s skin. Gritting his teeth, Kevin fought the urge to scream and watched over the hem of his shirt as Rex’s tiny form writhed in agony amidst the storm of magic. Beyond, the spell collided with the far wall of the basement and stopped.
“Holy shit,” Rotreego muttered, his eyes wide. He stepped away from the roiling maelstrom and pressed himself into the corner of his cell.
It was over a few seconds later. The light stopped as if someone had closed the valve responsible for holding it back. The searing pain in Kevin’s chest faded to a dull ache. Rex plummeted to the floor, wisps of gray smoke wafting up from his body.
“My wings!” the pixie moaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “You took my wings, you motherfucker!”
It was true. Nothing remained of Thisolanipusintarex’s pretty little wings. That wasn’t exactly the end result Kevin had expected, but all things considered, it wasn’t too bad. He couldn’t think of anything worse that could happen to the puny son of a bitch.
Rotreego laughed, scrambling forward to snatch up the wingless pixie. “And without your wings, you’re without your magic.”
A look of pure fear twisted Rex’s face. “Put me down, asshole!”
His eyes glinting maliciously, Rotreego smiled. “No wings and no magic. You must feel downright impotent right now, huh? But don’t worry, friend! I haven’t forgotten all the fun you and I have had together the last few days. It’s time I returned your hospitality.”
Before Thisolanipusintarex could protest, Rotreego shoved the pixie’s head into his mouth and bit it off at the neck. Kevin winced at the sick crackle of crushing bone and tearing sinew as Rotreego yanked Rex’s body out of his teeth like a piece of beef jerky. Bright red blood streamed out through the pixie’s neck and dribbled down Rotreego’s hand.
“That can’t taste good,” Yagor called out. The phony window illusion had disappeared and the two gnomes stood in its place.
“Tastes like shit,” Rotreego replied. He spat the head out to his left and tossed the body away to his right.
Kevin made a point not to look at either, focusing on the gnomes instead. “Thanks again!” he said, waving to his tiny benefactors.
“D-d-don’t mention it,” Iassonia stammered, blushing a peculiar shade of purple. “Just happy I got to practice what I learned online.”
“Don’t forget all those cords you promised,” Yagor said greedily.
Kevin scratched his chin, considering his next move. He still had a reaper problem to deal with.
“Say…what would it take to get a bit of help with Billy?”
The gnomes traded looks of concern—and perhaps fear. “That’s your business, not ours,” Yagor said softly.
“But—”
“That’s your business!” Iassonia snapped in a tone that left no doubt the conversation was over. Kevin flinched, surprised at the previously meek woman’s sudden explosion.
“See you soon,” Yagor added as he ushered his shaking wife around the frame of the shattered window. “And good luck!”
Disappointed, Kevin sighed and turned to Rotreego. The elf shook his head. “Don’t look at me,” he said as he strolled out the wide open door of his cage.
Kevin couldn’t help feeling like he’d missed an important piece of information about his situation. “Driff had the chance to put a bullet in the back of Billy’s head,” he mused. “Why didn’t he do it?”
Rotreego turned. “Because a reaper is death incarnate. Take a guess where new reapers come from.”
With a gasp, Kevin froze. His answer, if it were correct, would certainly explain Driff’s reluctance to pull the trigger. It also made Thisolanipusintarex’s plan to kill Billy a lot more logical. What pixie wouldn’t want to ride around in such a powerful skin?
“Whoever kills a reaper takes its place,” Kevin whispered, afraid to give the words too much power.
Rotreego nodded. “And this particular reaper seems to really, really want you to kill him.”