Page 1 of Pixie Problems
Chapter1
Dice
You know how they say bad things happen in threes? Yep, it's the total truth. Bad thing number one: Having an alpha in my old sleepy town in the great state of Montana fall in love with me. I use the word love ironically. He has no clue what love really means.
Bad thing number two: I had to move here, to Moonhaven Cove, away from my family and friends, just to get away from bad thing number one. And bad thing number three? I lowered my head to the steering wheel and fought back a few curse words. Bad thing number three was that my car just died.
Did I mention that it's pouring rain, and I was not yet inside the borders of Moonhaven Cove? I hadn’t felt the magic wrapping itself around me yet, but as a pixie, I can sort of taste magic, and I can sense it's just a few hundred yards in front of me.
My car was smoking. Which, when you think about it, was amazing considering the amount of water pouring from the skies. I wanted to cry, but I laughed instead. My life lately seemed to be a cosmic joke. If there were an award for longest string of bad luck, I'd take home the gold.
Gritting my teeth, I yanked out my phone and called the local sheriff of Moonhaven Cove. I had to do that anyway to apprise him of my situation while seeking shelter in their town.
“Sheriff’s office,” a perky woman answered.
I cleared my throat. “Hi, can I speak to the sheriff please? My name is Paradise Hart.”
“Hold please.”
I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel. This old Ford truck had been good to me. I was contemplating getting rid of it, in favor of my bike in the back, but I didn't think I could do it. My grandpa gave me this truck. He and I had worked on it together, and it was filled with so many memories of home and family that to get rid of it now would be like cutting out a part of me. It was like having a little piece of them with me, wherever I went.
“Sheriff Finn here. What can I do for you Paradise Hart?”
My breath caught. He was a shifter. Somehow, I could tell from his voice. It sounded completely alpha. I had to remind myself for the one thousandth time that not all alphas were like Hux. Most of them were good men and women who took care of their pack well and used their strength to keep their pack together and strong.
“Miss Hart?”
I cleared my throat again.Don't show fear, Dice.“Hello, Sheriff. I have a problem following me from Montana. There's a pack of coyote shifters that won't leave me alone. I'm coming to Moonhaven Cove for sanctuary. I'm just outside of the boundaries. And,” I growled under my breath, “my truck just died.”
Sheriff Finn was quiet while he digested my abrupt explanation for a minute. “You on the 101 just outside of town?”
“Yes.”
“I'll be there with a tow truck in a bit. You have a gun?”
“Several of them.”
His chuckle was warm and deep. “That-a girl. Be there in ten.”
As I waited for the promised tow and the sheriff, I locked all my doors (it wouldn’t help if Hux caught up to me), checked on my bike and my stuff in the back (thankfully tied down under a weatherproof tarp), and pulled out my Springfield 9mm. I also had a few rifles and other gages of handguns, but the Springfield was by far my favorite to use in a pinch.
And this was a pinch.
I craned my neck all around, trying to get a good view out of my rapidly fogging windows. As a pixie, my eyesight was better than a human’s, but it was terrible in comparison with a shifter’s. I squinted through the passenger's side window and scanned the trees for movement on the other side of the highway. To my right was the ocean, and I doubted he or his pack would swim to Oregon, but I checked that way too.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I found nothing unusual. After a few minutes, a tow truck pulled alongside me with its lights on. I was watching the tow truck and noted that the driver was a woman, and so didn't notice Sheriff Finn until he was right outside my window.
My heart jolted in fear and I gripped the handgun before it dawned on me that this was the sheriff.
“Don't shoot,” he said. He made it sound like a joke, but I could tell he sensed my fear.
One of the things that I was cursed with, probably from some terror-raising ancestor far back in my family tree, was what I called Insight. It gave me the ability to look at any being and be able to tell, physically, what they needed, and what was going on with their mental and physical health. It was all inter-related.
Sometimes this was an amazing thing, but most of the time, it was awful. My Insight kicked in with the sheriff as I left the gun on the seat and opened the door. My first clear view of the sheriff gave me an appreciation for how he carried himself. This was a man who knew what he was doing. Also, his left leg was bothering him, but he was in otherwise perfect health.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
There was nothing in the world worse than meeting someone for the first time and seeing disease inside of them. And then living with that knowledge when they might not even know themselves was the worst thing ever.
