

### A PIXIE'S TALE

Being the combined efforts of the authors of Here Be Magic: The Blog

a novella by

Hera B. Magic

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers' imaginations or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

A PIXIE'S TALE

Published by Hera B. Magic (via Meankitty Publishing)

Copyright (c) 2013 Angela Campbell, Cindy Spencer Pape, Jax Garren, Janni Nell, Jody Wallace, Nicole Luiken, PG Forte, Rebecca York, RL Naquin, Veronica Scott

Smashwords Edition

Cover by Angela Campbell

Editing by Jody Wallace

Proofreading by Angela Campbell, Eilis Flynn (Want your name here? Email us our typos!)

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This ebook is indeed a free download. If you'd like to share the file with others, please have your friends respect the obsessive curiosity of the authors by snagging their own free download from an online retailer. That way the authors can get an accurate idea of their total download numbers. If the numbers are shiny, perhaps there will be more free downloads in the future. Thank you for respecting the obsessive curiosity of the authors.

**Authors' Note to Readers:** This novella began its literary life as a "round robin" creativity exercise by various authors of the Here Be Magic blog. Those author participants are, in alphabetical order, Angela Campbell, Cindy Spencer Pape, Jax Garren, Janni Nell, Jody Wallace, Nicole Luiken, PG Forte, Rebecca York, RL Naquin and Veronica Scott. The blog is located at http://herebemagic.blogspot.com/

**Authors' Dedication:** For Miss Hera B., who is magical.

A PIXIE'S TALE: The Blurb

In an attempt to sway human voters—for a totally legitimate cause—Delphie the pixie targets a college neighborhood on Halloween. College students are notoriously liberal anyway, and the neighborhood is a human-only zone. She shouldn't run into any other supernaturals to interfere with her important mission.

But instead of drunken students, she mistakenly bespells a mysterious, sexy fellow supernatural who doesn't appreciate the fact her defective fairy dust turns him invisible. In retaliation, he curses her, too. She almost escapes, but he's determined to enact the cure—a taste of her delicious blood, blood that may also give him a yen for her dainty body.

If only Delphie can resist her yen for his body, too, she might just survive the craziest night of her life.

A 40,000 word paranormal romance

Rated PG-13. Contains mild profanity, drug and alcohol references, dimensional travel, stressful situations, sexy situations, unicorns, evil kittens and characters making not-so-great decisions.

### Table of Contents

Cover

Copyright Information

Blurb   
Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Authors

Bonus Alternate Ending

### Chapter 1

After fixing her lipstick and hair, Delphinia Bathsheba Slippery-Elm gave her wings a flip and marched up the crumbling walkway to the old mansion on the corner of Hoot and Main. The full moon shone brightly, a perfect round orange. Her laden trick or treat bag swung from her wrist as she approached the porch, and she pasted on a smile. After this house, there were only a few left, and she could go home and put up her feet.

But she had to complete her mission tonight. Halloween was her in. Pixie spells required proximity to take effect, and on Halloween the humans opened the door to anyone who happened to be in costume.

Or to supernaturals in their regular guises.

Not that Delphie's regular guise was anything that would freak a human out, unless they knew her wings were real—beautiful, gossamer cuties that folded into a tattoo when not in use. In order to live in the prime dimension, all supes had to abide by the Council's ruling that any non-human accoutrements, like wings, be concealed in the presence of the normals. Halloween, Mardis Gras, Carnivale, and other festivals were exceptions to that rule.

Hoot Street, with cars parallel-parked nose to bumper along both sides of the road, was close enough to Fairview College that most of the homes were rented by students. Hence Delphie's choice of this neighborhood to canvas. Not only was it an all-human zone, but university students, notoriously liberal, were supposed to be easier to influence.

Emphasis on supposed to be. Either Fairview was full of conservatives or her new brand of fairy dust was defective. Delphie was getting the compliance she wanted, but half the time she had to cast her spell twice.

Ugh! Fairy dust did grow on trees—very expensive trees. This was going to hurt her pocketbook, but it was for a great cause.

At least she'd collected a lot of candy. Just because her primary purpose was to sway humans to vote the way they ought to didn't mean she couldn't profit a little. The glossy treat bag also provided an access to her dust that didn't make people suspicious, the way reaching into her cleavage tended to.

The run-down mansion was definitely decked out for Halloween. Broken shutters, spider webs, weedy yard and canted porch steps could have been mistaken for neglect, but the pumpkin on the porch was the clincher. It was a good bet somebody inside was waiting for trick or treaters.

She lifted the tarnished brass doorknocker. The resulting clang was out-of-proportion loud and nearly knocked her off her favorite stiletto heeled boots. She caught her breath as the door creaked—actually creaked—open and a shadowy figure loomed down at her.

"Trick or treat!" she said. At five feet tall, she was a giantess among pixies but short compared to many humans.

Because the porch and house were unlit, she couldn't see her host, just his broad-shouldered outline. His lack of response grew into an uncomfortable silence, so she shook her candy bag.

"Trick or treat? Samhain greetings? Happy Thursday?" she suggested brightly.

"Aren't you a little old for trick or treating?" The home-owner's voice was as deep and smooth as the rarest Belgian chocolate. He leaned sideways, and a light flicked on in the foyer.

Delphie looked up, way up, and gasped. Even in cheesy plastic fangs and a polyester cape, the dark-haired hunk who'd answered the door was a walking wet dream. She gazed at him in admiration as he set the gaudy plastic bowl of cheap peppermints on a small table. He stared back at her, from her pink hair to her pointed toes, and crossed his arms over his impressive chest.

She'd like to do a lot more than enchant this guy to vote her way! And she wasn't married right now, either.

"Well, hello, gorgeous," she said. She was a bit ahead of schedule. She could dally a while.

Unfortunately, Tall, Dark, and Staring didn't appear to be equally impressed with her.

"Let me guess," he said. "It's a different kind of trick you're looking for. You have the wrong house. The fraternity is on the next block." The door began to close, ever so slowly, in Delphie's face.

She placed her small palm against the wood and her pointed boot in the crack. Hunk or no, she had a job to do. This guy was clearly going to be more difficult than those giggling coeds across the street. They'd only taken one dose of dust.

No matter. She was prepared. Every vote counted, and this particular voter might be worth working over...er...working for.

"Wait," she said. "Before I go, I have a treat for you."

Normally, she waited until she got into the house to do the spell, but she doubted the Supernatural Council would be strict when she was campaigning for the good of their kind. Before Mr. Hot and Grumpy could object, she reached into her bag and pulled out some sparkling dust. Pursing her lips, she prayed it would work this time and blew across her palm.

The dust floated into the gorgeous man's face. He blinked twice and sneezed.

His fake teeth flew out of his mouth.

"What the hell was that?" he asked. "What did you do to me?"

"A little attitude adjustment," she explained, preparing to influence his vote and touch up his memories. So far, so good.

But the man didn't react like the other human voters she'd met tonight. Instead of staring at her in confusion, he lurched toward her, hands outstretched.

Delphie squeaked and tried to activate the spell. The magic slipped away from her like water. Stupid dust.

He sneezed again, violently. It sounded like a very naughty word.

Directly after that, he disappeared in a tiny shower of all-too-familiar sparks. Not "poof!" like a homing beacon spell, but "poof!" like...

Invisibility.

A strong, unseen hand grabbed her shoulder and hauled her across the threshold. The door slammed behind her like the crack of doom.

The jerk! He'd used her own pixie dust to go invisible. And he'd only needed one try to get it right.

"You're not human, are you?" She surreptitiously reached for more dust. A wee dose of immobility would shut him up long enough for her to figure out what was going on.

His laugh was short and ended in another sneeze. Backing her against the wall, he yanked the treat bag from her grasp and tossed it behind him to the foyer floor.

"Not exactly, sweetheart."

"Well, you're not in the directory. You're not supposed to live here. This is a human zone." Delphie opened her eyes as wide as possible, but she couldn't see the slightest ripple of the man before her. The town wasn't big; she knew every supe here, and he definitely wasn't a resident. She'd have remembered a man this good-looking and crabby.

"Forget the directory. What have you done to me, pixie?" he demanded, not releasing her.

"Me? You did it yourself." Since he knew what she was, she let her wings pleat back into their tattoo. Cramming them against the wall was like pulling her hair.

"I did not."

She supposed she should feel threatened. A supe of unknown species was holding her against her will, so to speak, and he was not happy with her. But Delphie had never met a situation she couldn't flit out of.

She lifted her chin and glared at the area where she assumed the fake vampire's face was. "Then how do you explain your invisibility? I didn't do that."

"Then what were you trying to do?" he asked, tightening his grip. "Rob me?"

"Absolutely not!" If she wanted to steal from or spy on someone, she'd use a pixie portal to zip in and out of their house without anyone knowing. Not that she'd ever used a portal in that fashion. With someone who wasn't her ex. It wasn't like it was easy to control those things.

"And I'm supposed to believe you're innocent? You're a pixie. There's no way you're innocent."

"You shouldn't listen to gossip." Pixies had a bit of a reputation for changeability and light fingers, but they weren't innately powerful like other supes. They made up for it by being one of the few species to attract random dimensional portals. Unfortunately, it was a power over which they had minimal control.

"It's not gossip if it's true. I have no reason to believe it's not in your case. You blindsided me with fairy dust. Do you know what you've screwed up, pixie? No, of course you don't."

Delphie couldn't see him, but he sounded really upset. His hands on her shoulders weren't bruising her, though, or she'd have kicked him in the general area of his privates.

"Why don't you tell me?" she encouraged. She cautiously reached in front of her until her fingers encountered his broad, muscular chest about two feet away. It felt as nice as it had—all too briefly—looked.

"It's none of your business. You're a typical arrogant, selfish prime dimensioner, casting spells with no regard to the consequences."

"So you're originally from another dimension?" She let her fingers spread across his chest and gave him a friendly pat. "Been here long?"

"I've said too much." She could hear the growl in his words—and his impatience. "Tell me the truth. Who are you and what were you trying to do to me?"

"Relax. There's a local election with implications to the supernatural community coming up in a week. I'm surprised you don't know about it, being one of us and all." She paused in case he wanted to tell her what type of supe he was. That knowledge might help her get out of this situation unscathed. If he was a fairy, his use of her dust on Samhain was no big deal. He was ninety-nine percent likely to be a fairy of some sort.

"New in town," he said.

Humanoid supes in the prime dimension, while they were required to live in approved zones by the Council, did standard human things to blend in. Her quick glimpse of him confirmed he was a species who could pass, like fairies. It wasn't like she was a shifter, equipped with a supernatural nose. "I'm happy to tell you all about it. Are you a registered voter?"

"No."

"That's too bad." She patted his chest again. And then stroked it. It was a nice chest. What was a nice chest like this doing in a place like this? "Every vote counts. I was out influencing human voters to...."

He interrupted. "How ethical. Did you ever consider using logic and reason instead of forcing magic on your victims?"

"I'm not hurting anyone," she promised.

"Besides me."

"A, I didn't do this. And B, invisibility isn't painful." If he hadn't deliberately used her dust, why had the spell backfired?

Stupid dust!

"It's a serious inconvenience," he snapped. "You're incredibly irresponsible."

"I'll have you know I'm doing my civic duty," she began.

"No, you're not. You should have tested me for supe origins before you randomly sprayed me with dust, lady."

"Like I said, this is a human zone." Was it worth going for one of her hidden packets of fairy dust to chill this guy out? Or would that backfire on her too? "How was I supposed to know you're a scofflaw?"

"You've got a lot of faith in zoning regulations, considering how dangerous Samhain can be for some of us."

"Not for you and me. You used the dust. You're a fairy of some sort, right?" Samhain had a peculiar effect on a few species. If this guy were a vampire, demon, or shifter, yeah, dust was an issue, but he was a fairy. He had to be.

"Why would I use the dust to make myself invisible? I would have made you go away. It's a curse, pixie. And it's your fault."

The implications hit her like a backfired spell to the gut.

"What are you?" Not fairy. Was he demon? Vampire? Fake vampire fangs were a hilarious disguise for a real vamp, but this guy didn't seem to have a sense of humor.

"It doesn't matter. You've cursed me."

"Invisibility's not really a curse," she argued. "It could be cool. You could get a job in corporate espionage and make a buttload of money."

She didn't want to participate in any curse-breaking activities with a man whose species she didn't even know! No matter how sexy he was. And assertive. And strong. Because that was about as smart as...

Blowing possibly defective, off-brand pixie dust on an unidentified supernatural on Samhain.

Well, balefire and brimstone. Delphie the Disaster had done it again.

He leaned close enough that she could feel his pepperminty breath on her face.

"You would think that," he said in a low voice.

Delphie stomped one high-heeled boot. "You don't even know me."

"It's clear you're not above tricks and deceit." An invisible hand tweaked her pink hair.

"'Tis the season." She smiled, hoping to distract him. "Besides, tricks aren't the same as deceit."

She glanced around the foyer, which was in as poor repair as the outside. Dusty curtains hung on the walls, as if in front of paintings. The floor had rubbish on it, and the table where he'd placed the candy bowl balanced on three legs instead of four. Not only was he odd, but his standards of cleanliness were way, way beneath hers.

"What are you doing living in this zone anyway?" she continued.

"I believe I already said it's none of your business. Now that you've caused all this trouble, what are you going to do about it?"

The man was infuriating, but he had been so very nice to look at. She placed her other hand on his chest, too. There was more than one way to convince a man to do what she wanted.

"I know a hedge witch who might be able to help," she said. "Why don't you tell me what species you are and let me call her?"

He wasn't a fairy. It was bad, in that he was cursed. But it was good, in that he wouldn't know all her fairy secrets. The most expedient way to break a Samhain curse was dangerous for fairies, so they didn't publicize it. The last thing she needed was one of the dark supernaturals getting a taste of her blood, curse or no curse. Even humans knew what fairy blood did to vampires and shifters, thanks to the prankish muse who'd thought it would be hilarious to insert it into a popular fiction series.

His thumb stroked her neck in a way that was a little unsettling and a lot sexy. "My origins, my dear, are also none of your business."

Delphie affected pity. Hopefully, it would hide the fact she was getting a little turned on. "Vamp, huh, but too young to have any cool superpowers yet."

Definitely no bloodletting. The only thing worse than a vamp getting a taste of her was a shifter.

"What? No, I'm—" He stopped. "Tricky pixie."

"I try," Delphie said modestly. She pretended to smooth her skirt, trying to remember which pocket contained her backup dust. While she was partly responsible for his situation, he was the one illicitly living in a human zone. If he wouldn't tell her his species, was it her fault if she had to use dust on him again to defend herself?

She pulled out her hand and a tiny entanglement of black fur trembled against her palm as it sneezed out a barely audible squeak. Oops. That wasn't the dust. That was her ex, whom she'd turned into a miniature peromyscus the last time—the very last time—he'd pissed her off. She hadn't decided if she was going to feed him to her cat or change him back yet.

Shoving Romulus back into her pocket, Delphie retrieved the sparkling dust. Before she could purse her lips and blow it at the vamp, a hot puff of air spattered the dust in her face.

Sparks popped and her skin tingled. A spell over which she had no control wafted over her like a gust of hot air.

She slapped his chest. "You big, invisible oaf. What have you done? The Samhain curse shouldn't affect me." She wriggled her toes and fingers. Nothing felt different. She could see her arms and hands and clothes. "No, seriously, what have you done?"

"Fair is fair, sweetheart. Now you've got no choice but to fix this."

His invisible body, which had remained politely distant this whole time, pressed her to the wall. Oh, my. He was...very manly. Cool fingers tickled down her arm. She sighed.

He chuckled and caught her wrists in a powerful grip. He pinned them none-too-gently against the wall. "No more magic."

She lifted an eyebrow, wondering how she was going to get out of this one. "Like it rough, do you?"

"Why, are you offering?"

"Ah. Well." Once her stress levels rose high enough, a pixie portal might be drawn to her presence. She could practically sense one right now. If she wanted to escape him, she could leap through it. Sure, it would drop her off in a random location, but it was better than this.

Maybe.

Because sometimes, she liked it rough, too. Although she preferred a lover she could see.

His body pressed a little harder in a certain spot that hadn't been hard a minute ago.

"Watch it, buster. I didn't say I was offering."

His breath was warm against her neck, his laugh rich and deep. For a single, scorching second, his lips pressed her racing pulse. She closed her eyes and moaned.

"That sounded like a yes to me," he murmured. He ran an invisible hand down her body. Every place he touched tingled. "Goddess, you feel good. You're the first woman I've touched without fear of entrapment in a long time."

Entrapment? What was he talking about? One little moan, and he thought he was the boss of her. Indignant, Delphie opened her mouth to respond.

His lips pressed against hers, incredibly disconcerting since he had no visible head.

She closed her eyes. His tongue licked the crease of her lips as if starved for affection. Or something. His low groan when she allowed the kiss to continue gave her a heady sense of power, even though he was stronger than she was.

"I've never tasted a pixie before. You're succulent." His lips brushed hers, and his kiss woke shivers low in her belly. His arms slid around her, holding her tight.

When he kissed her again, she opened her mouth to his questing tongue and snuggled closer to his hard, invisible body. Her head swam with passion. She groped his chest blindly, fondling his muscles and shoulders.

Their bodies strained together, sizzling, in a mutual conflagration of kissing and touching. Good gargoyle, he was hot.

And just like that, he released her.

He cleared his throat. "Now that I've got that out of my system, let's discuss my terms."

"Out of your system?" But...but he'd rocked her world with a single kiss. Better than all her exes combined. There was no way to get _that_ out of one's system without a lot more...getting.

"That's right, pixie. All I want from you is three fresh drops of fairy blood, right from the source. That should purge all your magic from the past twenty-four hours and take care of the curse."

Crap. How did he know about bloodletting breaking a curse? Vamps and shifters realized fairy blood had a certain...enhancement effect and paid a pretty penny for an ounce or two, but they weren't supposed to know about the curse-breaking properties.

If he bit her, it would have that effect on him. He sort of held her captive. His kissing excited her on every level. His getting infected with pixie lust was potentially dangerous for her.

And other fun things.

But it would dissolve all her voting charms. Dang it! She'd canvassed all night.

As titillated as she was, Delphie knew her duty. She'd help the guy after the elections and prove he definitely did not have her out of his system—not until she said he could.

"You know what else cures invisibility?" she asked as she curled her free hand into the curtains beside them. "Fabric."

She yanked, swathing him in dusty brocade. In his struggle with the heavy fabric, he let her go. She pitched toward the door. "Gotta dash, lover. There's a fraternity that needs to get out the vote."

Chapter 2

Delphie slammed the door and raced across the decrepit porch and down the stairs. No pixie portal awaited her, so she ran faster.

Wow, a narrow escape. Her skin still tingled, whether from the kisses or the magic.

Oh, yeah, she'd come back next week. It wouldn't hurt him to be cursed a few days. He wasn't supposed to be in this zone anyway.

Delphie trotted down the block, headed for the destination that would give her the most voters—human voters—in one swoop. The vamp might come looking for her, and not to kiss her again. She'd finish up at this last stop and go home.

Lights blazed in the fraternity house. Music blared so loud she feared her knock would go unanswered, which might not be a bad thing. She was beginning to question the wisdom of approaching the party instead of skedaddling. Before she could hurry away, the door was flung open by a guy cradling a half-empty vodka bottle.

He took one look at her, screamed in horror, and slammed the door in her face.

Well, that was unusual. Most frat boys would be thrilled to see a pretty fairy on their doorstep. Unless—oh no.

She pulled out a tweak of dust and conjured a mirror. Instead of a small compact, a wide, gold-framed mirror popped into existence beside the door.

Stupid dust.

The mirror revealed every horrifying detail of her current appearance in great clarity.

The Samhain curse had turned her into a scary, warty old crone. She turned sideways. With a hot body, but still. Her face, her beautiful hair!

And he'd kissed her after she'd turned ugly anyway. Wow.

Running footsteps pounded down the sidewalk. Delphie whirled, fearing another frat boy was about to scream in her face, but she didn't see anyone.

The footsteps drew closer.

Crap. The vamp was hot on her tail.

Delphie thumped on the door of the frat house. It only opened a crack this time, but she was ready. She blew a handful of fairy dust into the kid's face and slipped past him while he was rubbing his eyes. Then she ducked into a hall closet to hide.

She couldn't believe what a mess the evening had turned into. She'd only converted half the voters she'd set out to convert. She'd cursed a vampire. She'd kissed a vampire. And her fairy dust was defective. She never should have tried to economize by buying in bulk from the White Sands Discount Fairy Supply Shoppe.

"Perfectly safe and reliable," the unctuous-voiced salesclerk had called it, promising that the rumors of radioactive isotopes in their product causing spell mutations were entirely without substance. She'd like to blow some dust his way and see how he liked being smacked with the Samhain ugly stick. She'd registered a grievance with White Sands' complaint department a few hours ago, but she'd had to continue her mission. Halloween only came once a year, and the vote wouldn't wait.

It was too late to do anything about the glitchy dust now.

Delphie couldn't hear anything outside the closet except party noises. Would her invisible opponent find her? She clenched her hands together and tried not to panic.

Uh-oh.

Panic.

As if summoned—because it was—light whirled inside the closet.

A pixie portal! What a relief. She thought she'd sensed one. It was the perfect solution to her invisible vampire problem. Finally, she was going to catch a break.

Delphie took a deep breath and prepared to jump. Hopefully it wouldn't lead to one of the demon dimensions, because she was kind of _persona non grata_ there. Before she gathered up her courage, someone hurled through the portal and bowled into her, shoving her against some coats.

"Hey, be careful!" Delphie fought off the parkas and the person. The brightly whirling portal dimmed. She batted a jacket off her head just in time to see a naked man fighting off parkas beside her.

Not just any man, either. The most amazing male specimen she'd ever seen. His face was a cross between an angel and an incubus. His skin was bronze all over. His shoulders and chest were broad, his abs defined, and farther down . . . well, she didn't get to see much because he whipped a coat across his hips and glared at her.

He looked exactly like she'd been hoping the invisible vamp did underneath _his_ clothes. They even resembled each other a little—full lips, arched noses, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a certain jut to the very masculine...

Chin, totally the masculine chin.

The glow from the portal receded and she could no longer see his fine, fine body.

"Who are you, old woman?" he demanded.

Oh, right. Her fairy dust had turned her into an ugly crone covered with warts. Dang it. Of all the closets in all the worlds, this guy had to be using the portal that teleported into hers.

Really, if he'd wanted to manifest in her closet, that was okay, but not when she was ugly and on the run from a pissed-off, mack-daddy vampire.

She scooted the coats to the side and whispered, "I could ask you the same question."

Echoing a certain annoying someone, he said, "None of your business."

"You portaled into my dimension," she said. "That makes it my business. And by the way, we wear clothes here."

"So I have arrived in the prime dimension? Is this 101 Hoot Street, Darbyville, Pennsylvania, United States?"

"No." Her pixie presence had nudged the destination of his portal here instead of 101 Hoot Street, which was...

The vampire's run-down mansion. Why would an extremely attractive, naked guy want to travel _there_?

Delphie quickly realized what was going on. How embarrassing...for everyone, since this guy's boyfriend had just stuck his tongue down her throat.

Jerk.

"You're a couple blocks out of range," she apologized. She decided not to tell the new guy his date was a cheater. "I'm sure your boyfriend is..."

He reached up and clicked on the overhead light. The bare bulb cast shadows on his shocked yet regal face. "What nonsense do you speak, pixie?"

"Shhh, be quiet," she warned him. "You really don't want the people outside this closet to find out you're in here."

She giggled at her own joke.

The amazing male specimen (AMS) did not. "Am I nigh unto my destination? My tracking spell was not in error. I have been searching for far too long to fail this close to my goal."

The guy used a tracking spell on his date? She reached out to pat him reassuringly on the arm, and he flinched. "Sorry about that. I'm a pixie, and you know how we are with random portals."

"Who are you?" He gazed at her in bewilderment. "I have never seen an aged pixie."

"Delphie," she answered, keeping her voice low. "And you?"

Puzzled, he lightly touched her wrinkled face. "You do not seem old."

"Oh, that." She eyed the doorknob and wondered if there was a way to lock it. "I have a bit of magical backfire situation going on. In fact, I should warn you. Your date is mad at me. I might have cursed him, what with it being Samhain and all and him hiding out in a human-only zone." Now that she knew the sexy vamp didn't completely swing her way—and, in fact, might be in a relationship—it wasn't as much fun to imagine him taking three drops of her blood.

She was no homewrecker. She also didn't share her lovers.

As for her own ugliness problem...

Delphie pulled out a pinch of fairy dust and sprinkled it on her head. She felt the magic tingle through her and activated the spell to restore her to her former beauty. Samhain curse or no, it was worth a shot. While she did know a hedge witch who could help her, the guy was way out of Delphie's price range.

Nothing happened. AMS adjusted the bulky parka around his waist, attempting to create a kilt.

Oh wait, something was happening. Something was wriggling in her skirt pocket and growing larger by the second.

Nooooo! The stupid White Sands dust had cancelled the spell she'd cast on Romulus! She dug him out frantically before he ripped through the fabric. Dropping him to the floor, she and AMS scrambled out of the way as he swelled and writhed.

He was no longer a miniature peromyscus. He didn't seem to be turning back into a fairy, either. What on Earth was he?

Delphie decided not to wait around and find out. She bolted from the closet, knocking the cheating vamp on his ass in the process. Or so she assumed. The door connected with something as it swung open—something big, heavy, and invisible that went down with a loud thud and cursed at her.

"Pixie, get your pretty little butt back here!"

She knew that voice. Definitely the vamp, and he was angry. Delphie risked a glance toward the closet, but she couldn't see a thing. Because he was invisible—duh.

AMS stumbled out of the closet. "Who speaks?" he demanded.

Hopefully the hot blond would distract his invisible boyfriend long enough for Delphie to escape. She disappeared into a throng of revelers.

The Halloween party was in full swing. Almost everyone was in costume. Easy to blend in. She flipped her wings and used them to increase her mobility without actually flying, because not even drunk college kids would fail to notice that. Where was the back door to this place?

And could she make it there before Romulus and the invisible vamp, who were both howling for her blood, caught her?

Not to mention make it out of the neighborhood.

If there was ever a time for her anxiety to provide her with another portal, it was now!

She scanned the party, using her fairy intuition to sense portals. Up above, somewhere, glimmering in her mind's eye. Was that...

Maybe.

So soon after the first one, it was hard to tell.

Taking a chance, Delphie headed for a staircase instead of trying any doors. She gyrated her way across the dance floor to the tune of "Ghostbusters," blowing fairy dust to imprint the vote on as many drunken revelers as she could.

Behind her a chorus of surprise bubbled. As she reached the stairs, she glanced back. She was being chased by the mostly naked AMS and Romulus, also naked, with a serious dusting of fur covering his body. Presumably the invisible vamp was chasing her, too.

Shouldn't the lovers be having a happy reunion or something? And shouldn't Romulus just be happy to walk on two legs again?

This was getting out of control.

She was getting out of here.

Cursing in frustration, she raced up the stairs and came to three doors. She wrenched one open. A gust of stale air chilled her. On the other side, rickety wooden steps led up, around a corner, and into darkness. This was likely a bad idea, but the other doors were locked. The male parade was almost upon her. She set her jaw and grabbed the banister. To the attic it was.

The steps groaned beneath her booted feet, inspiring less than a little confidence. The house had to be three stories high. Would the stairs ever end?

Delphie managed to make it to the top and the long, dark attic. Moonlight shone through small round windows. She crept silently across the long, cluttered space, looking for that damned portal. It was up here—she could sense it.

Come on, portal!

She was out of time. The shuffle of manly footsteps crested the top of the stairs, along with a deep voice calling, "Where'd you go, you little minx?"

Which one was that? Romulus, the Invisible Vamp, or AMS? Considering he was calling her a minx, she was betting Romulus.

She hid behind a large trunk and peeked around the edge.

Romulus. And his expression—still furry—was a wee bit angry. She'd kept him as a pet mouse for a couple months to teach him a lesson, and it didn't look like he'd learned it.

"I know you're up here," Romulus declared. "You and me got something to discuss."

She squeezed into the shadows, wondering how much defective dust she had left and what to do with it to loosen this tight spot.

A completely see-through hand clapped over her mouth and yanked her against a hard body. Hot breath warmed the back of her neck.

"Now I've got you, sweetheart. What say we lose these jokers and get down to business?"

Oh, for the love of sweet mother troll! The invisible vampire was determined to ruin all her hard work with the voters. And the escaping. And why was he calling his date a joker?

She bit his hand. He muffled a yelp and released her immediately. Irony—vamps hated to be bitten.

Delphie popped up, above the trunk and into a shaft of moonlight, where Romulus could see her. She floated into the air, spread her wings, and widened her eyes at her ex. Time for her favorite weapon in her pixie arsenal: extreme cuteness.

Romulus spotted her and recoiled. She remembered her warty exterior. Drat.

Okay, she'd go with what she had.

"Romulus, you big jerk." She pointed at him with a threatening finger. "Unless you'd like to spend more time counting the lint in my pocket, I suggest you scat." She waved her hand. "I'm sure your girlfriend—you know, the whiny little naiad you cheated on me with?—has been wondering where you disappeared to."

The anger on his hairy face turned to confusion, then fear. She hadn't picked him for his brains.

"Uh, right." He fled.

One guy down. Two to go. She didn't think AMS was a threat, though he had been following her.

Hands grabbed her ankles and tugged her down. She squealed and tumbled into the vamp's invisible arms. "One down, one to go, and then we can be alone," his deep voice whispered in her ear.

"You're annoying. And you're a cheater." She didn't like cheaters. Unfortunately, when this cheater let her slide down his body, all their inches touching, she did like that. A lot. "Let me go or I'll turn you into a mouse like I did Romulus."

"You and what dust?" he asked. "Yours doesn't seem to be functioning properly."

"Neither are you," she retorted.

He laughed and pressed his hips to her. "I'm functioning just fine, pixie."

Normally she wasn't against male attention, or, you know, other male things, but this was ridiculous. Vampie had a date and she had a job. The election was important, damn it!

She stomped her foot. Hard.

"Dammit!"

"Serves you right." She wouldn't feel at all guilty. Even if her boots had a wicked heel.

The attic stairs creaked. The vamp grabbed her again, clamping a hand over her mouth. He tucked them behind the large trunk, with a narrow view of the stairs.

"One peep, and I'll take more than your blood," he threatened.

His voice was so deadly serious, she believed him. Wide-eyed, she watched AMS sidle along the wall like he was entering enemy territory. The rustle of the parka tied around his waist kind of ruined the effect, but if it weren't for that, he might have been scary. His posture spoke of alertness and stealth.

Her vision had adjusted to the dimness of the attic while AMS's hadn't. He slunk off the wrong direction, giving her and the vamp a reprieve.

The vamp grumbled something about persistence and priggish assholes that Delphie didn't understand. Did he not want to date AMS? Had AMS tried to show up naked at the mansion uninvited? While it didn't seem like something AMS would do, based on her ten whole minutes of acquaintance with him, many species of supernaturals became extremely persistent in their attentions once they fixated on a mate.

She had no idea what kind of supe AMS was besides a fine, fine humanoid one. He and the vamp were tall and gorgeous. And they favored each other. They could almost be brothers.

If she were the sharing type, these two might make a nice sandwich.

But no. She wasn't. AMS could have the vampire, and gladly.

"You will be brought to justice, traitor," AMS said in a stern voice. "You can no longer hide from me."

Huh. That certainly wasn't the tender speech of one lover to another.

At this point, she hardly cared. The men's relationship didn't affect her current predicament. Not to mention her current position. Wedged between a pervy invisible vamp who wanted to get wild on her blood and a rough wooden trunk, she was in quite the fix.

If he took her blood to undo his curse, it would make her pretty again. It would also negate the effects of her fairy dust on all those voters.

Provided the cheapo stuff had been functioning like it was supposed to.

Well, crap it all.

She peered at the invisible vamp, surprised she could sort of see him in the faint moonlight. A thin layer of attic dust highlighted his features and scruffy hair. Damn, the guy was good looking. As was AMS. But AMS was sure to find them soon. Did she want that? After all, he wanted to bring the vamp to justice, which would rescue her.

She couldn't choose.

And yes. Oh, that was perfect. She felt a very large sneeze building.

Hastily the vamp stuck his invisible tongue in her ear. His fangs pierced her ear lobe.

Forgetting to sneeze, she talked into his palm. "Please, I'm begging you. Don't."

"Don't what? Keep you from sneezing?" he asked in a low, wicked voice. He licked her lobe, and pleasure shivered down her spine. His teeth, fangs, scraped the side of her neck.

Oh, boy. That was one of her weak spots.

AMS, whoever he was, cautiously searched the other side of the attic. The vampire's hand cupped her breast insolently. His thumb grazed the tip.

Oh, boy. That was another of her weak spots.

"My, my. I think we have a danger addict," he whispered. "Let me endanger you a little more, my sweet." He pinched her nipple.

She squeaked. His palm muffled it, and he laughed softly. His hips pressed to her backside in a very obvious fashion.

Oh, boy. That was a third one of her weak spots.

She was going to have to jump one way or the other before she combusted. Her urgency swirled like a portal calling to her. Surely AMS, if he thought the vampire needed to be brought to justice, would save her?

Surely she ought to want to be saved. Surely she wasn't lying here imagining what would happen if the vampire's hand strayed under her clothes—though they had an audience in the attic—and...

The vampire tweaked her nipple again. Then he rubbed. Then he nuzzled. Then his teeth nipped her. Then his hand began to caress lower on her body.

Wait a minute. Something swirly gleamed through the cracks of the trunk, and it wasn't her lust. It was a portal.

A fixed portal, too, not a pixie portal. The lingering effects of AMS's portal must have concealed its particulars until now. No wonder she'd had trouble finding it.

Time for a distraction.

"Mmmph!" Delphie yelled.

The vampire growled. She craned around the trunk. AMS had definitely heard her. His head swiveled toward the dark depths of the attic where they hid.

Delphie sprang into action, flailing hard enough that Sexy McBiterson lost his grip. Considering how turned on she was, he hadn't been expecting resistance. She leapt up. AMS headed straight for them.

"Miscreant!" he bellowed.

"Who, me? Wait, I don't care." Flinging open the lid of the wooden chest, she hopped in and slammed it behind her. The air burst with the bright explosion of portal transfer. She tumbled through space and time and out into the stars.

### Chapter 3

Safe at last.

Soft, gleaming points of light in the portal dimension surrounded Delphie as she floated. The air buoyed her. There was no temperature, no odor. Fixed portals almost always led to the portal dimension, the neutral transfer spot between the worlds. She was officially rid of the whole, annoying situation she'd found herself in tonight.

Manifesting her wings, she flew toward the nearest familiar constellation. The portal dimension was home to all permanent links, including ones to prime. She was so ready to call it a night.

The air shimmered around her as she navigated, dodging stars and comets. She remembered just enough magical astronomy from spell school to identify the Big Dipper—her route back to the physical plane. If the Dipper wasn't open, she'd wait for a fluctuation. Hey, more time spent here would mean more time for the ugly spell to wear off. Magic in the portal dimension was erratic, so this might be exactly the cure she needed.

Unless...

Oh, crapping trollsticks! Had the vamp's bite drawn the three drops of blood needed to break the curse? While she'd be pixie-cute again, she'd have to re-enchant every darn one of the voters on her route.

Damn that guy. He must be young if he thought it was okay to chomp on other supernaturals without their permission.

Delphie came to a midair halt next to a cluster of stars she didn't recognize. She checked her lobe, her fingers encountering moisture. Blood?

She squinted at it, but it was too dark to see if it was blood or vamp spit. She flapped closer to the bright star cluster nearest her. And a little closer. And a little closer.

A body rammed into her from behind. They shot through the air, spinning in a free-fall.

The vampire laughed. His invisible arms tightened around her. "Brace yourself, pixie. It's gonna be a rough landing."

Their momentum jerked sideways. And again. She fought him uselessly, since he was wrapped around her like kudzu. Light flashed as he shoved her through an unidentified portal.

Somehow she doubted she'd emerge anywhere near her house.

Separated from her attacker, Delphie vigorously flapped her wings to stabilize her descent through the sky of the new world. Wherever it was, it was late afternoon. Colors blurred together as she neared the ground.

She landed with an oof and dropped to her knees, breathing hard. The vampire landed several yards away with a much bigger thud.

She jumped up and advanced on him. The heels of her boots stuck in the verdant grass. He sprawled on the squishy ground in all his tempting glory. Well, not all his glory. Delphie could see the grass and muck underneath the guy, right through his muscled chest and broad shoulders. His half-substantial state—his half-broken curse—wasn't a good sign for her vote spells.

"Get up, you big lug." She thought about kicking him, but it was rude to kick a man when he was down. And bigger than you.

"Help me up?" he asked, sticking out his hand.

Without wings to break his fall, perhaps he'd had the wind knocked out of him. She conceded and reached for his fingers.

Right before she touched him, he tightened his lips as if expecting it to hurt.

Weirdo. Like it had caused him so much pain the other times they'd touched. She smacked her palm into his and tugged.

He jumped up without tugging back—not even using her as ballast. He hadn't needed her help at all.

"It worked!" he said in a very pleased tone. "I was ninety-nine percent sure, but it's good to know I'm a genius."

"What worked? Me helping you stand?" If this guy was a genius, she was twice a genius, and she knew better than that. She'd only tested as nearly genius on the Supersique Standard Assessments.

He shook grass and gook from his cheap cape. "A little side project that wouldn't interest you. Damn this mud. I'll never get my deposit back on this costume now."

"I can see you," she said. "How much blood did you take?" She reached out and tapped his chest with her fingers. Solid enough. Too solid for her well-being, considering his habit of groping and kissing her.

"Two fangs. Two drops of blood." He spit the fake teeth into his palm and held them out. "I need one more to finish the cure. And may I say, you were even more delicious than I thought you'd be?"

His eyes gleamed translucently. He smiled translucently. Were two drops enough to yield that special...enhancement? Would he want to act on it even though she still looked like an old crone?

Or did she?

Delphie rubbed her face and hair, pulling her locks forward into her line of vision. The warts were gone, but her beautiful, pink hair was a dull, dishwater blond. No doubt her adorable face was plain and boring and without a single dimple.

Two drops of blood. Well, poo. At least a third of the votes were safe.

Since her companion didn't seem particularly inclined toward hanky-panky at the moment, she shook her finger at him. "You are in a whole peck of trouble, mister. What were you thinking, shoving us through some random star? We have no idea where an outgoing portal is in this place. I don't sense anything. We could be anywhere."

The man smirked at her diatribe. "Why don't you just conjure us up a portal, pixie? You're good at it."

"I'm a pixie, not an imp," she said with disgust. "I can't control it that easily."

The only thing she envied about the toadying minor demon species was their ability to control the random portals. It made them particularly useful as bus drivers, dimension inspectors and customer service reps.

He brushed hay out of his dark, scruffy hair. "Then I guess you're stuck here until I'm done with you."

"Are you saying you know where we are?"

He shrugged and smirked some more.

Smirker. She wasn't sure she liked a man who smirked all the time.

With a huff of disgust, Delphie scanned the area and tried to figure out where they'd landed. In the distance, she spotted a modest castle. They stood near a hard-packed dirt road leading over a green hill. The colors of the foliage were similar to the prime dimension, but she doubted that was where they were. The prime dimension was littered with portals, and this place seemed to have zero.

"Well?" the vampire said in a gravelly voice. "How about that last drop of blood? We need to fix me and get you the hell out of this dimension."

"You knocked us in here, not me." Why had he only mentioned getting _her_ out of this dimension? Did he not plan to return home? "I just flew close to the stars to get some light."

"Magic's not reliable in the portal dimension. I couldn't break the curse there, and I needed to test my theory that—"

She put her fingers to her lips and waved at him to be silent. A carriage had crested the rise when they'd been arguing, and it was too late to hide. They'd have to meet whomever it was and hope for the best.

Egads, she hoped this wasn't a demon dimension. Most of the natives would recognize her from Baelzebub's standing warrant.

The coach rolled to a stop. A minute later, a tall woman with hot pink hair, yellow rattlesnake eyes, and an enormous gold crown covered in rubies descended and approached them. She didn't look like a demon—no scales. Two footwomen who also had no scales stood on either side of her while the unicorns pulling the carriage pawed the ground and snorted.

Definitely no unicorns in the demon dimension. Small favors.

"Girl," the crowned woman said to Delphie in an imperious voice. "The hour is late, and darkness falls in a nonce. Why aren't you in the kitchens? And you, boy. You know you can't be here. I'm only so tolerant. Hie ye to the monastery with the rest of your kind before the djinn king finds you gone."

Djinn? That wasn't any species she'd ever heard of—outside fantasy tales.

"Of course, Your Highness." The vampire bowed and took Delphie's arm. "This way, wench. At once."

"Don't touch the female, you simpleton," barked the queen. "Are you completely untrained as well as a vagrant?"

"She's quenched, Your Highness," the vampire said. "Nothing to fear."

The queen squinted at Delphie as if nearsighted. "Quenched? Are you saying she's an outlander?"

"Did I say quenched? I meant crunched. For time. Gotta go!" He yanked a stunned Delphie after him into the forest on the far side of the road. "Run, you idiot."

Delphie was inclined to argue—in all matters, really—but that queen seemed like bad news. The part of her brain that didn't want to get dead ordered her legs to run. She stumbled after him, her spiked heels awkward on the rough terrain. A few steps inside the cover of the trees, he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She started to protest but heard footsteps crashing behind them. She held on instead. He didn't seem to mind her weight, and his body, well, it was nicely muscled. She let her fingers glide across his back and admired his world-class ass. If she squinted, she could forget he was translucent.

Whoever or whatever he was, her accidental companion seemed to know where he was going. It didn't take long before they left their pursuers in the dust. He slowed his pace to a steady jog after five minutes. They'd found a path, so branches no longer whipped her as they rushed by.

"Put me down." While it was nice when a man could take care of you if you decided he ought to, all this jouncing was upsetting her stomach. She hadn't eaten recently except for trick or treat candy. "I can walk on the path or fly. We should find sticks or something to use as weapons if we need them." She wasn't sure she trusted her fairy dust anymore.

"We can't slow down. We need to get out of these woods before sunset."

"How do you know that?" She grunted as he returned to a full gallop. Was it her imagination or was he running faster—a lot faster—than a normal person? "How do you know any of that?"

"Because, you little trouble maker, I grew up here." He didn't seem winded at all from his steady run. Wow, he was in great shape. "Now shut up. There's an old gamekeeper's cottage not far ahead. We'll take shelter there."

The forest around them blurred as her sort-of captor's feet flew across the ground. Wind whistled past her ears. In another minute or so, they reached a small glade being reclaimed by the forest. A tiny thatched cottage stood in the middle of it, its door hanging crookedly to one side.

Her captor hefted her to the stone stoop and set her down more gently than he'd carried her. Their bodies brushed as she found her footing.

Delphie swallowed hard. "Thanks for the rescue." She licked her lips and looked into his tawny eyes. "Goblin balls. You're one of them."

She hadn't had enough time to admire him in the prime dimension before he'd turned invisible, but one thing was quite clear. In the fading sunlight, she could see his pupils were slitted vertically—just like the queen's.

He was not a fairy. He was not a vampire. Just who was this guy?

He turned away and pushed inside the cottage, ignoring her. The nerve!

"So what are you?" She was quick on his heels, determined to get answers. "Kobaloi? Demon in disguise? Tell me."

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much, little one?"

"I'll have you know—"

Her words floundered as Delphie was momentarily distracted by the sight of the very chiseled, very perfect and very naked male specimen that emerged as he stripped out of his cape and clothes in front of her. Dang. Two in one day. Was he built better than AMS or were they equally gorgeous?

Before she could guesstimate the size of his package—whoa, mama—her eyes were drawn to his dimension-class ass as he bent over and rummaged through an old trunk, flinging garments left and right and flexing some nice muscles as he did so.

Mmmm. Have mercy.

He straightened, holding a pair of drawstring pants that looked as if they were made of black velvet. She watched as he stepped into them before snapping out of her lust-induced trance.

Why was he changing his clothes? Unless he just wanted an excuse for her to see him naked.

"Exhibitionist much?" she asked. After several months of zero naked men, she could count three in the space of an hour—AMS, Romulus and this guy.

"Believe me, if I were exhibiting, you wouldn't be standing all the way over there. I'm getting into character."

He was gorgeous—and he knew it. She planted one hand on her hip. "I'll have you know I studied at a very exclusive spell school for supernatural creatures. I'm fluent in three hundred magical languages and knowledgeable of over five thousand beings." Delphie inspected her surroundings for clues. Aside from dust and a few cobwebs, the place reminded her of Bilbo's cottage from _The Lord of the Rings_ movies. Except...were the walls kind of glowing blue? Weird.

She pinned his backside with her gaze. "I don't have a clue where I am or what you are. I need answers, dammit. I've only got a few hours to restore all those votes you ruined. I need to get back to the prime dimension. Now, please."

He turned to her and smiled. "Great. Just give me one more drop of blood, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Tempting, but no. She had to save a few of her vote spells. Not to mention, once he had everything he needed from her, she'd have nothing to hold over him.

"I'm a pixie from the prime dimension, and my family is the Slippery Elms. My given name is Delphie." She crossed her arms. "Now tell me your species, dimension and name. That's how civilized supernaturals introduce themselves."

"I can tell you part of it." He hesitated. "My birth name is Ainmire. My friends and family call me Dash."

"Seriously?" A tiny giggle lifted from her chest. "How do you get Dash from Ainmire?"

She'd barely blinked when he disappeared. Goblin balls! Had he turned invisible again? She was so going to sue White Sands for selling her a bad batch of fairy dust. The least they could have done was acknowledge her complaint today, but no, they'd let her misfire her spells left and right.

A strong, muscled arm slid around her from behind, pressing her into a hot, hard body. A startled gasp tore from her throat as the glint of a pen knife slowly moved toward her neck in a hand that was not invisible.

"And that's why they call me Dash, sweetheart." His warm breath teased her ear. "Hold still. This will only hurt for a second, and then I'll kiss it all better."

"Ow!" Delphie slapped her hand to the nick he'd made in her tender skin. He tossed the knife aside and caught her wrists. She struggled to no avail.

His tongue stroked her neck, tasting the wound. His saliva stung like peroxide, and she complained. "That hurts."

"Mmmm." His mouth closed on her neck and sucked. Hard. Delphie felt the strong draw all the way down to her toes. "So sweet."

"That's more than a drop. Let go."

His arm tightened until she was firmly clamped against him. He was purring now, licking her, and she could tell her blood was having that notorious enhancing effect on him.

Pixie lust.

"Dash, you have to stop." She grew muzzy headed, and not from blood loss. He'd been careful. It had been a tiny scratch. The pain was gone, replaced by sensual delight. His teeth nibbled and his lips caressed.

Well, he had promised to kiss it better. And better. And better.

Why wouldn't he tell her what species he was? Based on his earthy response, she was guessing shifter, not vampire. Oh, my. Danger shivered through her along with delight. She'd never been brave enough to date a shifter.

When he dropped her wrists and cupped her breasts, Delphie allowed it for one splendid moment before she kicked away from him.

He let her, laughing and wiping his mouth. He was completely visible now, every gorgeous inch of him. Delphie staggered across the cottage and fell onto a chintz-covered sofa. "Now you've done it."

"You taste like stars. I never imagined it could be like that." Retrieving the knife from the floor, Dash stared at her with hot eyes. She could see the impressive bulge in his velvet pants without even looking directly at it.

"Don't even think about it," she said crankily. "No more blood. Stay on your side of the cabin."

"Your loss." Dash strode to the cabinets over a small iron stove and began searching them.

"Don't act like I'm the villain. All my hard-won votes just poofed, thanks to you breaking the spell," she said with a pout.

"Your attention to civic duty is admirable, but time runs differently here. Your election is long over." He turned around with a jar of Nutella in one hand and a tin of crackers in the other. "Looks like this will have to be dinner."

Swallowing hard at the sight of the Nutella, Delphie forced herself to ignore the rumbling of her hungry stomach. "Can we please focus on getting out of this dimension and going home? I have to work tomorrow. Wait, can I go to work tomorrow? What timeline is this dimension on?"

"You can use a portal from here to return at any point after you left, but we're stuck in this cabin until daybreak."

Delphie rubbed her forehead. She hated thinking about the sciencey aspects of magic. "But if I return before the election, the vote spell will be broken."

"Technically, no, but space-time continuum babble is uninteresting. And it has so many pesky paradoxes. I thought you wanted to know my story?" He sauntered closer and joined her on the couch. "I have some ideas for how we could pass the long night. And nights are very, very lengthy here."

"I bet you do." Delphie grabbed the crackers. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have something to eat, get some information on this place, and get cozier with Mr. Tall, Dark and Cat-Eyes.

Wait, what? No!

"Are you casting a spell on me?" She'd never heard of a pixie getting pixie lust, too, but if whatever-Dash-was possessed mirror magic, it could happen.

He smiled slowly and didn't give a direct answer. Shocker. "You're the most delicious woman I've ever tasted, pixie girl. Makes me want to taste you everywhere."

Delphie crossed her legs and made herself a snack. This man seemed to know all her weak spots. "Uh. Didn't that creepy queen call you a monk? Wouldn't want you breaking any vows."

He raised an eyebrow. "I have a long list of vows I'd love to violate. Should I write them down so you can pick or just surprise you?"

It was a bad idea to stay here. With him. All night. Just the two of them, the pixie lust, and a jar of Nutella.

Delphie jumped up from the couch. "No, thanks. I don't do below the waist on the first date."

Capturing her by the wrist, he laughed. "You admit this is our first date? That's promising."

She cocked her foot back to kick him. Spell or no spell, this guy was not pushing her around. Before she landed a blow, he tugged her into his lap.

"I won't hurt you, Delphie. I just want to do things to you I've never had the chance to do before."

"So you're really from a monastery?" She would never have guessed. The man knew what to do with his tongue.

"Yes, I'm really from a monastery."

A shifter monastery. Now she'd heard it all! "Does that mean you're a—"

"Virgin?" He smiled. "If I say yes, do you promise we'll spend tonight lifting that curse as well?"

She smiled reluctantly. He was a clever devil. No, a shifter. Dang it! "What's your species?"

"You're obsessed with my species."

"You're the one asking me to relieve you of your virginity. I have a right to know."

His fingers tightened. "If you weren't so incredibly alluring, I'd..." His gaze fell to her lips. "Kiss you."

"I don't think that's a good idea." If he started kissing her again, she wasn't sure if she could stop him. She squirmed to the other side of the sofa. Dash crawled after her, intent on getting a lick. Her back hit the opposite arm, and she had nowhere else to go.

Hovering over her like an incubus, he bent his head and brushed his cheek against hers, inhaling her scent. "You're driving me mad, woman. You smell divine."

"It's the Nutella," she squeaked, although she did smell divine. All pixies did, and could she help it if she was more divine than most? "What was that you were saying about monasteries and queens?"

"I wasn't saying anything about queens." His lips moved across her neck, and his tongue flicked out to taste her pulse. Oooh, she was already getting melty. "All you need to know is how much I want you."

Delphie was afraid she might have to resort to some fairy dust this time...before her little bit of melty turned into a lot of melty. "Dash, get hold of yourself. You took my blood. This is the lust spell talking. Step away...from the pixie."

"Not all of it." He nibbled her neck, his lips hot on her skin. "The first moment I met you, I was enchanted with your beauty."

"You slammed the door in my face and accused me of being a prostie."

"The third or fourth moment, then. If you only knew the things I've imagined doing to you in our oh-so-brief acquaintance."

That confirmed it. He was under the influence of her blood. Most of the evening, she'd been a warty old crone thanks to that damn malfunctioning dust. "Try again. I was ugly."

"Only on the outside. You smelled the same. And you tasted the same." His lips meandered across her jaw, closing in on her mouth. "I can't focus on my mission, Delphie. I'm nearly at the end, and I can't seem to recall why it matters. I'm going to kiss you now."

"You have a mission?" She pushed uselessly at his chest and twisted her face from him. "I love missions. I want to hear all about it."

His leg slid between her thighs. His chest was smooth and hot beneath her palms.

"Let's not talk business." He kissed her beside her mouth, and she sighed. "Let's talk pleasure."

"Shouldn't your first time be more special?" Her breathing sped up—not because she was scared, either.

"I confess, Delphie, I'm not actually a virgin."

"Then there's no reason for us to do this," she said, secretly pleased. Virgins were eager, but their staying power was limited.

"Indeed there is, because I gotta know." He adjusted his thigh between her legs, pushing up her skirt. "Do you taste the same all over?"

"How about a cracker?" Desperate, she shoved a bite of Nutella-covered snack in his mouth.

"I don't want a cracker." He chewed it up and licked his lips, never taking his gaze off her. "I want you."

When he bent to nibble her ear, Delphie was almost a goner. His tongue and teeth sent shivers down her spine, and his thigh was doing three times the damage. But she didn't know what species he was. She didn't even know where she was. She was going to have to kick him where the sun didn't shine or something equally drastic.

Drastic. Definitely drastic. She raised her hand to her ear, intent on extracting the secret glue dot of fairy dust behind her lobe, only to find it was gone.

Dash smiled at her, stuck out his tongue, and showed her the dot of fairy dust. Right before he swallowed it.

Goblin balls. If second-hand dust had made him invisible...

"No more wonky dust, woman. Not here, and not now."

"I wasn't going to....ooooh."

Dash lowered himself onto her. His weight pinned her into the sofa. He left no doubt in her mind what HE had in mind. His big hands dropped her hips, possessive and—well, goodness! Very fresh.

"You wouldn't believe how long it's been since I've done this," he said, "but I hear it's just like riding a bike."

"Yes, because the legs go like this." Delphie jerked her knee up between his legs with enough force to make him gasp.

He rolled off the couch with a groan. "I'll need a moment."

Delphie sat up, straightening her mussed hair and clothing. She'd never figure anything out with Dash feeling her up...and melting her down. It would take every bit of pixie speed and agility she possessed to avoid his advances. Especially when part of her didn't want to. But she couldn't think when his hands...

Nope, better not think about it.

"I know you're interested," Dash said. "You kissed me back, remember?"

"Have you considered that we have more important business?" She put the couch, and then most of the room, between them. It wasn't the time for a romantic interlude. "You have this mission thing, and I need to get home."

"We can't deal with any of it until tomorrow." Dash rolled to his feet with the feline grace of the shifter he probably was. "Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are beautiful? Like pure sapphire gemstones. And your lips are so sweet, I could kiss them all day."

She smiled despite herself. Her eyes were one of her best features.

Dash reached for her and almost caught her.

Concentrate, Delphie!

It wasn't easy to figure out how to escape while a man she'd like to fondle chased her around a cabin. She fended him off yet again and wondered if she should try for the door. Dash hadn't said why they couldn't leave, only that the nights were long and the cabin was safe.

She sprinted toward the exit.

"You want to be chased?" he asked, blocking her path.

"Chaste. Like monks are supposed to be." She feinted one direction and dodged around him.

He laughed. "I've no use for chaste, but I've proven good at chasing. If you let me catch you, you won't regret it."

Delphie grabbed the doorknob. Dash promptly embraced her from behind. His scent enveloped her. For a moment she was tempted to lean back into his strong arms and enjoy the hardness of his...sculpted frame.

"You know, you're making it hard to think," she said.

"Then don't think," he purred. "Feel."

He trailed kisses down her neck. Oh, dear. He kept doing that. How did he know that was her second-favorite spot to be kissed? His hands caressed her cheek, her hair, her breasts, and she quit fighting.

He sensed her surrender. Nudging her around until she faced him, he found her lips. Their tongues met.

Resistant no longer, she melted against him.

The kisses turned hot and then hotter. Before Delphie knew what was happening, Dash had her up against the door, his hips between her thighs, his hands cupping her behind.

But they hadn't...

But she didn't...

And she wanted...

And oh stars and twinkles, if he'd spent most of his life as a monk, how had he learned to...

A massive blow struck the cabin, knocking them both away from the door.

Chapter 4

Luckily they still wore their clothes in the proper places. Dash thrust her behind him, protecting her with his body.

The door burst open.

"Unhand that woman, uh, pixie!" AMS stepped into the small space, flaring out jet-black wings and shaking raindrops everywhere. He'd lost the parka somewhere and was completely starkers.

"Oh, brother," Dash said with a growl.

"You're no longer my brother, infidel." The intruder advanced on Dash and Delphie, and Dash held up his hands. "You committed treason against our clan, and I have tracked you through twenty-seven dimensions. Apparently you have brought a pixie outlander among us, compounding your many crimes."

"I didn't come voluntarily. He dragged me." Dash could have tackled her into any dimension to break the curse and seduce her. Didn't have to be this one.

"You will not be punished, pixie. Only the traitor. He will finally be brought to justice."

"Not tonight, though." Dash slammed the door behind AMS and secured a large deadbolt. When it slid home, the wavering blue in the walls ghosted across the thick door. "Good thing for you I hadn't sealed the wards yet."

"I would have found a way in." AMS glared at Dash as if the man...or whatever he was...had committed treason. Which he apparently had. "Why did you allow her to touch you? Has your debt already been paid?"

"Me?" Delphie said, wondering about the debt reference. And the crime reference. Man, this dimension was harsh. "Dash is like an octopus. If anybody touched anybody, he touched me. Repeatedly."

"Uncouth cur," AMS muttered. "Touching the opposite sex is not permitted."

Whoever these guys were to each other, the relationship wasn't romantic, like she'd first assumed. Nor was it healthy.

Dash grinned.

"What's your name?" she asked AMS. "I can't keep thinking of you as 'Naked Guy.'"

AMS, like his not-brother before him, went to the chest and dug out a pair of trousers. No shirt, as he'd sprouted wings since the prime dimension. If her stupid fairy dust had done that, she hoped he didn't want her blood to rid himself of the curse, too.

Once he was clad from the waist down. AMS offered her a short bow. "Ainmire of the Ainmire Clan of the Djinn, loyal subject of King Ainmire, long may he reign."

Ainmire?

"But that's..."

"You may call me Stride."

"It's a djinn thing," Dash whispered, popping up behind her like a poltergeist. He quickly kissed her cheek, and she shot him an eat-dirt look. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't think I want to understand." What she did want to know, however, was why he'd called it a "djinn" thing. As far as she knew, the djinn were myths.

"He touched you voluntarily?" Stride asked her. "After your arrival in our dimension?"

She nodded, confused. "So?"

Stride stared at the other man, who was leaning nonchalantly against the blue-glowing door, as if Dash touching Delphie were the most shocking thing ever. It was a good thing he'd startled them out of their haze of passion with his dramatic arrival, or he'd have seen enough touching to blow his mind.

"Why would you deliberately entrap yourself?" Stride asked Dash. "Have you no pride as well as no morals?"

Hey! There was no reason to be ashamed of touching _or_ kissing a prize like Delphie. What a jerk.

"You're one to talk, considering the fact you run around naked," she said, insulted. She'd been in puritanical dimensions before, but the inhabitants tended to slink around fully clothed. Stride didn't seem perturbed that he'd displayed his wares in front of a member of the opposite sex he wasn't allowed to touch.

"Yes, would you care to explain that?" Dash waggled his eyebrows. "Could it be? My holier-than-thou brother allowed himself to succumb to temptation?"

"My last stop was Olympia," he growled. He retracted his wings closer to his body. Their ebony feathers gleamed in the cabin's yellow lighting. "I was given a false lead."

Olympia was a nudist dimension. Clothing was considered a violation of the natural form. Luckily Olympia was also a very warm dimension.

Dash snorted. "Ha, you took that bait? I'd have paid money to see that."

"It didn't fool me long before I tracked you to the prime dimension and hired an imp to portal me to your location," Stride said. "And now I have run you to ground. Consider your freedom at an end."

For someone whose freedom was supposedly at an end, Dash didn't seem to care. Even if falsely accused—and she could certainly believe Dash was capable of many types of treason—Delphie wouldn't be so relaxed in his position. Stride was an inch or two taller and broader while Dash seemed like the type who favored brains, not brawn.

"Anything else you need to tell us about your months in the outlands?" Dash continued to needle. "How about that stopover on Earth Two? You did some opposite-sex touching there."

"How did you..." Stride advanced on him and glared sort of horizontally but a little down at his tormentor. His hands balled into fists. "What do you think you know? Who did you see? You will tell me everything at once."

"I know you hired a shifter prostie," Dash said, eyebrows at his hairline, "and paid her to mask up like a lady djinn. Gotta say, not very inventive."

Stride seemed nonplussed. He didn't even have a pompous insult for his brother. His cheeks reddened. "You saw my assignation with the woman?"

"Relax," Dash said with seeming sympathy. "After a lifetime of celibacy, what do you think I did first thing when I left the outland?"

So Dash had been telling the truth about his monkly past and lack of experience, not to mention all the bans on touching.

Worst. Dimension. Ever.

Just how long had it been since Dash lost his virginity to some female she'd like to portal to the demon dimension? Granted, his lover had apparently taught him all the weak spots on a female's body, so she supposed she couldn't complain.

"Ahem. Well." Stride deflated slightly, but his glower remained intact. "There is no danger of entrapment off-world. It was a momentary weakness brought on by... Never mind. I will confess to the abbot at the first opportunity."

"What do you mean by 'entrapment'?" she asked. "Is it like a shotgun wedding?"

"No, it's nothing," Dash said. "All the Ainmires besides me are archaic prigs."

"Acknowledging the truth of our existence is archaic?" Stride's glossy wings flared with his passion. "Obeying our king is priggish? You're a fool. And now you're beholden to an outlander."

Beholden? This was crazy talk. "If Dash thought he owed me, he would have let me go home when I wanted," Delphie said. Instead, he'd contrived to keep her here through the night.

"Did you even make an attempt to quench her?" Stride asked.

Depending on what 'quenching' meant, Dash'd sure as heck tried. Stride's interruption had prevented it.

Dash grinned. "I offered her snacks."

"Heathen. You grew even more profane in your time in the outland," Stride said. "You would risk everything for—"

"Relax." Dash frowned. "Don't say something you're going to regret."

Stride puffed out his chest. "I regret nothing."

"Not even your months in the outland, hopping from dimension to dimension, searching for me and dealing with all those supernatural creatures and women trying to touch you?"

"Cease your nonsense," Stride ordered. "You are the chronic sinner, not me."

Arguing about sex and sin annoyed Delphie and wasn't getting anything accomplished. She decided to direct the conversation away from sibling bickering and back to the djinn. The way these guys kept tossing the word around had to mean something important.

"So the...djinn king sent you to hunt your own brother. How _Game of Thrones_ of him. Does this happen often among the djinn?"

"The king ordered the traitor's capture and rightly so," Stride said pompously. "Any biological relationship is secondary."

Nobody corrected her use of djinn. Good gracious. Did that mean this was the fabled djinn dimension and Stride and Dash were legends come to life?

"Whatever you say, big bro," Dash mocked. "You might be older, but you'll always come in second."

"Not in this I shan't. I have vanquished you." Stride's wings spread further, making him look large and menacing. Wow, she'd never seen such a span outside of a griffon. Where had he put them when he'd been naked as an Olympian in the prime dimension? "I order you to surrender in the name of King Ainmire."

Dash rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, you vanquished me. I'm scared now. I have to say, I didn't think you were foolhardy enough to fly through the forest this late."

"The forest at dusk was hardly a challenge." Stride lifted his square chin like a superhero. "I have come much closer to being eaten in the king's service than I was tonight."

"Eaten?" Delphie exclaimed. Holy Dryad! What kind of dimension was this? Normally supernaturals were the apex predators; they weren't preyed upon.

"The creatures that lurk in the forests at night are less...hospitable than the djinn," Dash said. "Which is what we are, in case you hadn't figured it out."

"So the djinn aren't myths." She deliberated that bit of information with great interest. Why did nobody know about them? Why did everyone assume they were pretend? Identifying a new race of supernaturals could net her a considerable amount of money and fame, two things she'd always fancied.

"We keep to ourselves," Stride said, "except for traitors like this one whose lusts drive him to violate his oaths."

"Again and again and again," Dash said, giving Delphie a lascivious wink. "Got any oaths you wanna violate, pixie?"

Lusts. Right. Which brought Delphie back to what had been going on right before Stride had arrived. If Dash was djinn, he wasn't shifter. That meant, unless the djinn were a subtype of demon, their interlude may not have been inspired by pixie blood.

Were the djinn dark supernaturals or light ones? What was their species tree? Was Dash truly attracted to her or had he intended sway her with his golden tongue? And what about her own out-of-character behavior?

Much as she might want to, she truly didn't go below the waist on a first date. A girl had to have her standards—and a reason to look forward to the second date. Too many oopsie pixie marriages were caused by lack of standards.

"I'm actually glad you showed up, Stride." Delphie trained her gaze politely on his face. Like Dash and the royal lady, he too had slit pupils. That could be demonic—but no scales, horns or tails. Hm. "Dash was not being gentlemanly. I think he put a lust spell on me."

"That was no spell, pixie," Dash murmured. His hand surreptitiously patted her ass.

"He would if he could," Stride said darkly, "but rest assured, he has no such power."

Maybe....maybe the fairy dust had been responsible for her libido. And Dash's. Maybe the attraction was artificial.

Stupid, malfunctioning, lawsuit-begging-for fairy dust.

Disgusted with them both—and with herself for wishing Dash actually liked her—Delphie grabbed the crackers from the table and fixed herself some food. "Just promise me Romulus isn't going to show up next."

"No," Stride said. "The rat man has been dealt with."

His black wings contracted like a folding fan until they disappeared entirely, leaving an ink-black tattoo down his spine.

Oh. That was unexpected. The wings had been so big, she'd assumed they were like angeli, demon or griffon wings, a permanent body part hidden in the prime dimension by masking magic.

Delphie considered Stride's body in a clinical way. With wings that folded into a tattoo, the djinn had to be part of the fairy family tree. Her wing tattoo was, of course, pink. And Dash's back...had been as bare as an Olympian's bottom.

"So tell me, Dash," Delphie said after she licked Nutella off her finger. "What happened to your wings?"

Dash folded his arms across his chest and scowled. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You said if I broke your curse, you'd tell me whatever I wanted to know."

"Not that."

Undeterred, Delphie turned to Stride. "I bet you could tell me, couldn't you?"

"As a matter of fact..."

"No," Dash interrupted. "I invoke the djinn code of silence."

Delphie stared at him in disbelief. "There's a djinn code of silence?"

"What happens in the djinn dimension stays in the djinn dimension," Dash intoned.

Stride smirked. "Coming from you, that's almost funny, infidel."

"I know my rites," Dash said. "And my rights."

"As a traitor, you have none. Besides, you can't pretend you never broke our codes."

"It doesn't matter what I've done. You, on the other hand, as a loyal subject of Ainmire—"

"Long may he reign."

"As I was saying. As a loyal—and law-abiding—subject of the king, you're bound to observe the laws of the land. Or risk being branded a traitor yourself. That includes what you do in the outland. Like on Earth Two."

"You don't understand," Stride raged. "You are a heartless deceiver."

Delphie fixed herself another cracker. This was a one-of-a-kind opportunity. No one knew the djinn were real. She might be able to get an exposé out of tonight's adventure. Maybe even a book contract. She'd be famous. There'd be talk shows...

"Why don't we all have a seat?" she suggested. She gestured toward the chintz-covered chairs and sofa in front of the decrepit fireplace, directly beneath a hole in the roof through which starlight streamed in. Funny, she hadn't noticed it when she and Dash had been entwined there, kissing and petting. "I take it we're here for the night?"

Stride stalked over to the furniture and sat. "Yes. Even I would not brave the forest again at this hour."

She studied the hole in the ceiling. "So this is like a safe house? How do you manage to keep everything inside in such good shape? Is it some kind of stain-guard spell?" If she learned the secret to that, she could be twice as rich and famous.

A look passed between the men. "The spell's on the outside," Dash answered. "This cottage only appears dilapidated to discourage non-djinn from trying to take shelter here."

"Only those with proper authorization can enter. All others are rendered unconscious." Stride glared at Dash again. "Which means you shouldn't be here."

"And yet I am." Dash took a seat on the sofa. He patted the cushion beside him and smiled at Delphie. "I thought you wanted to sit down? Bring the food while you're at it."

"How come I wasn't knocked out?" Delphie crossed the room and took the side of the sofa furthest from Dash.

He shrugged. "I disarmed the door before I allowed you to enter. Obviously."

"Obviously," Delphie repeated, remembering how he'd pushed into the cottage in front of her. At the time, she'd thought him rude. Now she realized he'd been protecting her. She should thank him, she supposed. Before she had a chance, a horrible howling erupted outside the cottage.

"Holy Dryad!" she gasped. "What's that?"

Dash blew out an unconcerned breath, but there was uneasiness in his tawny eyes. "Barghest. These woods are full of them. Giant wolves with double rows of teeth and claws that can pierce dragonhide. A single barghest is deadly. In these woods they hunt in packs."

As Dash was clearly the less honest of the two, Delphie turned to Stride for confirmation.

"This time he's telling the truth." He scowled. "They're not the only thing prowling about. We truly are stuck until morning."

"Is the hole part of the dilapidation spell?"

"Probably," Dash said. "I'm not the one who maintains it."

"We should double check." The barghest had sounded close by—and hungry. "What kind of magic do you two have? Any construction charms? Or I could use fairy dust."

"Oh, no," Dash said. "None of that crap. You'll bring the whole house down. I'm sure it's fine."

"This is the selfsame dust that converted your mouse into a giant rat?" Strike asked. "Or did he begin as a giant rat? Outlanders have peculiar taste in mates."

"I wouldn't date an actual rat," Delphie snapped. "He was a fairy. But if his outsides match his insides now, serves him right."

With a censorious sneer, Stride reached for the Nutella on the coffee table.

Delphie grabbed it first and scooped a big dollop with a cracker. She extended it toward him generously. If this was the only food available in the cabin, she wasn't giving up custody.

Stride hesitated and then reached for it as if trying to pick up a used tissue without touching the snot. Out of meanness and insulted ego, Delphie twitched forward so their fingers brushed.

What felt like electricity zinged through her. Holy physical attraction, Batman! Did that have anything to do with the djinn ban on touching?

His eyes widened and then shuttered. His lips thinned. He snatched the cracker away as he cleared his throat. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Poor Stride," Dash mocked. "All that training and you couldn't prevent what just happened." He laughed. "In for a penny, eh, brother? Is this your first time?"

"Shut up, infidel," Stride said with a sigh. "And no, it's not my first time."

"Are you gonna go for the quench? Honestly, I don't think she'll cooperate."

"What's a quench?" Delphie asked. Did it have anything to do with beverages? She could sure use one. "You keep mentioning it."

"I'll handle it," Stride griped to his brother. "How are you handling it?"

"I'm not," Dash said.

"That's not possible."

What in the stars were they talking about? "What shouldn't I have done, Stride, touch you?" Delphie patted the jar of Nutella safely tucked in her lap. "It was innocent. You don't have to marry me. I just shared the food."

Stride studied her for a long moment as if determining her sincerity while Dash grinned like a fox. "Never mind."

"I never do," she quipped.

"I can believe that." Dash, who wasn't at all reluctant to touch her, kiss her, lick her or bite her, held out his hand for a cracker. She supplied it, stingier with the Nutella than she'd been with Stride. She had to ration it, after all.

Stride finished his cracker and didn't ask for another. "I should apologize for my hostility in the closet, pixie. I was startled when I didn't emerge in the correct location."

Dash snorted. "Yeah, the hostility of not getting laid in half a century."

"No worries," Delphie said. "It happens. Pixie portal magic."

Dash cocked his head to the side as a thought struck him. "Speaking of magic..."

She tightened her grip on the food. She didn't like the look in his eyes. "What about it?"

"Don't you _wish_ ," Dash said, emphasizing the last word, "that you and I were back in the prime dimension? At my house...in my bedroom?"

"Pervert," Delphie said, refusing to imagine it. He was a fabulous kisser, but he didn't seem like good husband material, what with being a wanted criminal.

Though a guy didn't have to be good husband material to be good bedroom material.

"Don't you wish," Dash continued, "you could do magic without needing to use dust?"

Did he think she was a witch? "I'll have you know pixies can employ a number of charms and cantrips—"

Swift as a pooka, Dash pounced, pinning her arms. He didn't reach for the crackers and Nutella that tumbled out of her fingers. "The bag of malfunctioning fairy dust is in her skirt pocket. Stride, get it."

She struggled against his hold, but lithe as she was, she couldn't break free.

Stride looked affronted by the demand. "I'll do no such thing."

"That's right. You'd better not," she warned, jerking against Dash. If he tried something lascivious with his brother sitting right there...

"You've already touched her. What difference does it make now?" Dash asked. "That dust in her pocket is unsafe. She's awfully fond of blowing it around whenever she gets in a jam. Just think how it might interfere with any other spells that might be inadvertently cast."

"You broke my recent spells when you took my blood," she protested. "Let go."

"If Stride wants to trust my curse-breaking, he's welcome to," Dash said slyly. "But since he believes I can do nothing right, your dust could curse us without it even being Halloween. It's not always as easy as a few drops of blood to escape a curse."

Stride's prudish distress turned to determination. He stuck his hand between her and Dash, just above her hip. She shifted away, trying to protect her dust. Defective it may be, but it was hers.

His hand inched across her abdomen, reaching for her opposite pocket. A laugh rumbled above her as she twisted again, anxious to escape Stride's exploration.

Her captor grinned down at her, quite clearly enjoying their struggle. Yep. He was definitely a pervert.

"Where else should I search you?" he asked.

"I'm getting you back for this." She shimmied as far from Stride's seeking fingers as she could while restrained by a large djinn.

"I look forward to it," Dash answered, a dark promise in his voice. A darkness that, try as she might to ignore it, inspired a heat deep inside her.

She was inspired, that is, until something slimy and wet dripped onto her shoulder. "Ew! Dash!"

His laughter stilled as he gazed at her shirt. "That's not mine." Uneasiness returned to his tone. Coldness gripped her insides, replacing the heat with panic.

"I got it!" Stride brandished her bag, oblivious to the change in their demeanor.

A growl reverberated around the room. All three of them twisted to look up.

Chapter 5

A black beast crouched at the edge of the ceiling gap, jaws gaping to reveal double rows of jagged teeth. Thick spittle dribbled down its lip. Red, slitted eyes narrowed in malice.

Delphie laughed nervously. "I'm not so sure you're right about the dilapidation spell. The monster about to eat us doesn't look like the protection wards are gonna keep him out."

Dash didn't need to argue. The horror in his eyes, with the pupils fully dilated like a frightened cat, told Delphie all she needed to know.

Holy goblin balls! They were going to die a horrible, painful death in this freaky place. Well, at least she was. She wouldn't put it past Dash to toss her to that growly wolf thing and find a spot to hide while it turned her into the pixie equivalent of steak tartare.

Delphie squealed as the room swam around her. One second she'd been pinned by Dash on the sofa. The next, she and Dash were sitting on top of a tall, ancient-looking bookshelf. Whoa! He was fast!

"Don't. Move." Dash shot her a pointed look as the sound of cracking wood joined a chorus of snarling. She lifted dazed eyes to see part of the roof collapse beneath the animal's weight. It hit the floor in a shower of debris and sprang up quickly, coating the air with dust.

"Stride, disable it!" A glowing blue net appeared in Dash's right hand. He tossed it to the other djinn, who looked startled by the gesture. As the beast lunged, Stride kicked a piece of furniture into its path. Dash did his flitty thing and appeared on the other side of the room.

Stride flapped the net at the monster like a red cape in front of a bull. "You shouldn't have been able to do that, infidel."

"And yet I did," Dash said, echoing his earlier statement.

"How do you still have powers? Did the pixie wish to be saved?" Stride grunted as the beast ripped through the chair. He flung a large piece at its head.

"I'm sure she does wish to be saved, but that wouldn't influence me," Dash snarked. "You're the one who'd be on the hook there."

"I did not sense a release of magic. You need to explain yourself."

Oh, for the love of mother troll! A wild beast was trying to turn them into chew toys, and these two whackos were squabbling as if they were on an afternoon stroll by the lake.

If you want a thing done well, let a pixie do it. Rolling her eyes, Delphie reached for her bag of dust and then remembered Stride had snatched it. She pursed her lips. She wasn't stupid. Well, not often. Unfortunately, the backup to the backup dust she hid behind her ear was gone.

She simply had to get her dust back.

"Stride!" She pointed at the bag hanging from his hip. "Toss my fairy dust to me so I can take care of this pest problem."

He glanced at her at the exact wrong moment.

Oops. She hadn't meant to distract him. A powerful swipe of the creature's paw sent his net soaring against the wall. His strangled yell of pain reached her ears before she saw the yellow ooze pouring from a gash in his hand.

Yellow blood? Eww. Icky. But it would make a great detail for her tell-all book.

Crouching, she launched herself off the bookshelf and landed a few feet from Stride. If she could just get her hands on that powder...

A too-close-for-comfort roar from the beast told her she'd caught its attention. Uh-oh.

It gnashed its teeth and barreled toward her. Stride, although strapping, wasn't on his feet yet. Delphie screamed. Dash held out his arms like some kind of sacrifice.

Before the beast rammed him, Dash flitted onto the animal's back and used his hands to direct its head away from Stride. A blue glow enveloped Dash's body.

That fast, Dash was no longer Dash. He'd shifted into a large were-beast.

Shifter? Or djinn magic? How had he done that? She was so confused!

With a triumphant roar, monster Dash prepared to chow down on the barghest. His long fangs, in a cat-like muzzle, were shiny and curved.

Nets were one thing, but teeth were another. Delphie's membership with PETS—People for the Ethical Treatment of Supernaturals—would be revoked if she didn't try to intervene in the barghest's incipient demise.

Grabbing the dust from Stride's hip, she spun quickly and threw a tiny poof straight at the barghest.

Landing on the beast's left paw, the sparkling dust coated its vicious claws with plum-colored polish and made the animal sneeze. Monster Dash sneezed as well, before chomping on the barghest's neck. The combatants rolled across the floor, kicking and growling. Crushed to splinters, furniture went flying.

"Don't kill it," Delphie yelled. "Barghests have rights, too."

Stride recovered the net, yellow ichor oozing from his hand onto the glowing strands.

"Well, that was magnificently ineffective, pixie," he yelled back, watching for the opportunity to whip the net over the barghest without trapping his brother. "Try something else, quickly!"

"What do you mean me?" Delphie flattened herself against the sturdiest-looking wall of the cabin, watching the battle with increasing horror. Dash and the barghest could easily bring the cabin down around them, and then they'd be without shelter, period. "Turn yourself into a were-beast like Dash did and kick some ass."

"I can't!" he admitted, frustration oozing from him. "I don't know how he did that."

"What can you do?" Stride seemed brave, but he had no right to call her magnificently ineffective. "Transport the barghest to Hades? Put them to sleep? You're a djinn. You're supposed to be all-powerful."

Stride dodged the tumbling beasts. "That's not how djinn work."

If Stride wasn't going to act, it was up to Delphie. She dipped her hand into the pouch for more powder.

What's that saying about only a fool keeps trying the same thing that isn't working? That would be me.

As she threw the next handful, Dash and the barghest broke apart, snarling. The dust drifted onto both of them, converting the barghest to a kitten and Dash into a mouse. In the blink of an eye, the kitten seized the mouse by the tail and darted toward the front door to make its escape.

"Don't let it get away!" Stride ran to block the exit. The kitten, carrying its loudly-squeaking prisoner, jumped onto a pile of debris and eyed the giant hole in the ceiling. "We'll never find Dash again."

"Don't let it get away? How am I supposed to prevent that?" Delphie shrieked, nerves on edge. "If you'd tell me what magic you _can_ do, maybe I could think of a plan."

"Whatever you do, don't fling any more of that cursed defective dust." Stride swiped ineffectually at the kitten with his net. Hissing around the mouse tail clenched in its miniscule fangs, the transformed barghest retreated higher up the stack of broken furniture. The djinn transformed the net into a glowing dagger and raised it above the kitten.

_I'm running out of dust, defective or otherwise._ Delphie stuck a hand to her hair and tugged at the purple ribbon threaded through her tousled locks. The freed strip of pixie cloth shimmered as it floated in the air.

"Bind the animals," she whispered.

Like purple lightning, the ribbon flew to entangle the kitten and the mouse, wrapping around their limbs in a display of snakelike efficiency. The captives tumbled off the furniture pile, rolling over and over until they came to rest at Stride's feet.

"You can't kill a kitten," Delphie said to Stride as he raised his knife.

"By the druid's rune, girl, this is a cursed barghest. _You_ made it into a kitten." The djinn toed the neatly tied parcel of cat and mouse, quickly pulling his foot back as both creatures snarled at him. "If you'd have allowed Dash to snap its neck, we wouldn't be having this issue."

"I'm a member of PETS. I can't abide unnecessary death." Now it looked like she might witness one anyway.

Kneeling beside the captives, Delphie untied enough ribbon to allow the cat to slip loose. Foaming at the mouth, the animal went for the hole in the ceiling and disappeared. Paying no attention to its escape, she untangled Dash the mouse, who squeaked once before collapsing limply in her hand. Drops of yellow ichor smeared her fingers.

Tears trembling in her lashes, Delphie rose. "I think the barghest got the better of the fight."

"Yes, after you turned a djinn warrior into a mouse. What cruel trick of Fate brought my brother and me into your path?" With one finger Stride flicked the mouse's ear gently. "And to think I'd captured him at last."

"Do you have healers at the monastery?" Stomach churning with fear, Delphie watched as the little mouse's breathing grew labored. "How fast can we get there?"

Rubbing one hand across his eyes, Stride frowned. "He'll never survive the journey in this state."

"You're a djinn. You have magic. I don't understand why you can't you change him back."

"It was your dust that made him a mouse, so, I'm mostly powerless here." He opened his mouth as if to add something and shut it again.

"What do you mean 'mostly'?"

"I mean it would be best for everyone if you fix the problem you created yourself," Stride snapped. "That's the smartest way to balance the magic. Other methods could create even bigger issues."

_He's getting angry and I don't blame him._ Anxiously, Delphie looked around the destroyed cottage for something, anything that might be useful. Carrying the mouse, she trotted to the cabinets, flinging them open one-handedly. Her gaze fell on a bottle full of cloves.

"Here, open this." She tossed the bottle to Stride. "Cloves have antiseptic properties."

"Now you've lost your mind." But he opened the jar.

Carefully, Delphie set the mouse down, turning her attention to the bottle. She dumped out the cloves before shaking some of her dust into the container and closing it. She drifted more dust onto Dash. Feeling particularly urgent, she whispered, "Save him, damn you!" at the dust.

Dash squeaked and sneezed as the magic shrank him to the size of a postage stamp. Then he poofed out of view in a blaze of pink sparks.

What do you know? The spell had worked.

Clapping her hands, Delphie smiled. "There, he'll be fine until we get him to the monastery."

"Fine?!" Stride waved the knife dangerously near her head. It might not kill her, but it wouldn't feel good. "You just disappeared him."

"He's safe. I put him in an infinity bottle. Which is kinda funny, when you think about it. All our myths about genies in bottles, and I've put the first genie—"

"Djinn," Stride said with a growl. "Do not call us genies. That's pop culture rubbish."

"I've put the first _djinn_ I met into a bottle." Delphie picked up the glass container, from which angry squeaks could be heard, and stuck it in her pocket. The infinity spell could keep living creatures in stasis, as well as function as a handy storage container for relocations and collections. It wouldn't keep Dash alive forever, but it would give them more time.

"You're a fool." Stride snatched the dust from her and hurled it to the other side of the cabin. "You'll not be using this again. There is nothing worse for a djinn than being confined."

"Would he rather be dead?" Delphie asked.

"Pixie, it may not matter. I just don't want to be around when you let him out."

"Call me crazy," Delphie said, "but I think he'd prefer a short stay in a bottle to death from barghest-inflicted wounds. Let's get him to that monastery. We're wasting time."

Stride glanced through the hole in the roof at the starry sky. "We can't leave until daylight. It's too dangerous outside."

"It's not exactly safe inside. Or did you miss the bit where the barghest dropped in for a visit?"

He shook his head. "We're not going anywhere until dawn. We'll be here for hours, just the two of us."

"Stay if you want, but I'm out of here." Delphie headed for the door.

He stopped her with a question. "How will you find the monastery?"

She turned to face him. "You'll give me directions."

"Not in this lifetime. You're stuck here until I decide it's time to leave." He held up a finger when she tried to protest. "Don't say a word. It won't help Dash if we get ourselves killed. Perhaps your infinity magic will last long enough."

"What if it doesn't? His death will be on your head."

"I accepted that responsibility long ago," Stride said with a sigh.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the King's Enforcer. It's my burden." He held out his hand. "We've a long night ahead of us. Let's not be enemies."

He seemed logical, but Delphie couldn't quit worrying about Dash and the secrets Stride was clearly keeping. She wondered whether he'd let try her fairy dust. She could pretend to summon medicine and instead cast a truth spell. But given the defective nature of the dust, the spell could make Stride lie, or worse, infect him with pixie lust, too.

That was almost the last thing she needed, right before "pack of barghests."

"I wish I had some reliable fairy dust," she complained. If White Sands had answered her customer complaint in a timely manner earlier tonight, this adventure could have gone very differently. Stupid discount shoppe.

Stride flinched and closed his eyes. The air around them flashed blue, like the wards, and dissipated. Maybe he'd strengthened them. "And I wish you hadn't said that."

"I'm just being honest." She was contemplating her next move when a loud knock sounded on the door of the cottage. Stride moved in front of her, instantly protective, and she asked, "Are you expecting company?"

"No." He faced the closed door, tensed and ready to spring.

"Maybe it's a polite barghest," she joked.

Stride ignored her comment. His dagger turned back into a large net. "Nothing but monsters are about at this time of night. We cannot have another one availing itself of our rooftop entry. Open the door, pixie, and I'll catch it."

"I've got a better idea." Delphie tiptoed to the door and yelled, "Who's there?"

"Me." A male voice, high and thin.

"What's your name, stranger?" Stride called.

"Me. That's my name. Me."

"What do you want, Me?" Delphie asked. If the woods outside were full of barghests, what kind of fearsome creature could Me be?

"I'm here about a grievance registered about some fairy dust."

"Is this a trick?" Delphie whispered to Stride. "Do barghests pretend to be customer service reps?"

Before Stride could answer, Me called, "I'm from the White Sands Discount Fairy Supply Shoppe. My location beacon says that the registrant of a complaint, one Delphinia Bathsheba Slippery-Elm, is within this structure. I, Me, am your assigned customer service agent."

Damn these new location beacons! So much for registering herself on the Do-No-Visit list.

Ignoring Stride's look of dismay, Delphie wrenched open the door. "The dust is defective. It's gotten me in a whole heap of trouble. I want a refund. And compensation for pain and suffering."

The individual on the other side of the door was short, red, scaly and officious-looking. Great—an imp. He turned up his long nose. "Our dust is never defective. We manufacture to the highest standards at the lowest cost. You must've been using it incorrectly. Did you read the instructions?"

"Sure, I read them years ago when I purchased my very first fairy dust. And let me tell you, the dust from the Totally Serious Fairy Supply Shoppe works way better than White Sands."

The imp smirked. "You've always bought from Totally Serious in the past?"

"Yep," Delphie said. "And I'll be buying from them again."

"You read Totally Serious's instructions?"

"Yep."

"Did you read _our_ instructions?" The imp pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Because they're different. If you were using Totally Serious instructions on our product, I'm not surprised you were having problems."

_Oops!_ Delphie's cheeks burned. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stride's lips twitching. Could this get any more embarrassing?

Stride moved past her and said to Me, "She'll read the instructions. I'm sure they're reliable. Now go."

"Where is this place, anyway?" Me asked.

"Nowhere important," Stride said. "I'd advise you get out of this dimension the same way you came in, imp...as fast as possible."

As if on cue, a barghest howled in the forest. Me turned pale pink and gulped. "I do have a ping in the Halifax dimension. I believe I'll cross you off my queue and be off."

Stride slammed the door and turned to Delphie. "A long night ahead, pixie. Perhaps you should sleep."

"I'm too tense to sleep. Why don't you just tell me where the monastery is so I can save your brother?" Or die trying. Because if they remained here, it was possible they were going to die anyway.

"He cannot be saved, pixie. He is condemned."

She stuck her hands on her hips. "For lust? That's stupid."

"Lust isn't the only reason Dash is a condemned traitor."

Delphie's curiosity stirred. "Oh?"

"Enough. You know too much already. It is time for silence and sleep."

There were no pieces of furniture left big enough to sleep on, and Delphie wasn't tired.

"Who did he tumble?" she asked, cocking a hip. "The king's daughter?"

"He—" Stride's lips clamped shut. He folded his muscular arms.

Delphie rolled her shoulders, suddenly uneasy. "So what will happen to Dash when we take him to the monastery to be healed? Will there be a trial?" She wandered back to the Nutella and crackers, which had miraculously survived the barghest attack. Might as well eat them all—they wouldn't survive the next one.

Stride shook his head, expression somber. "An execution."

She whirled. "He's already been convicted?"

He frowned as if he didn't understand the question. "By the king's order, he is guilty of treason."

Delphie started to pace, incensed. "That's it? The king orders it, and he's executed without a chance to defend himself?"

"His guilt was obvious," Stride said stiffly. "And you're one to speak of fairness when I gather you were out influencing people to vote the way you wanted."

Delphie's chin came up. "Yes, on a ballot referendum to preserve a local park where many supernaturals live. You can't exactly campaign on the basis of helping dryads and bandersnoots. Even hiding in your djinn dimension, you must realize humans in the prime dimension can't know about supes."

Stride had the decency to look chagrined. "My apologies. I misjudged you. You might talk too much, but you are not a cretin."

"So how do you know you haven't misjudged Dash if you haven't listened to his side of the story? Huh?" She pointed at him. "You've spent all this time chasing him. Are you positive he's guilty of something besides lust?"

Stride didn't speak, but his brows drew together in a stubborn frown. "You don't even know what he's accused of. Cease this chatter."

She threw up her hands. "Because you refuse to tell me."

"This discussion is pointless. In the morning I will take Dash to the monastery and turn him over to the king's justice."

Delphie felt wretched. Dash was going to be executed, and he wouldn't even have a chance to run because of her. Because of her stupid mistakes with the stupid fairy dust. Dash might have been tricky as a fox, but in their hours together he hadn't harmed her. And he had protected her from the barghest. She found it hard to believe he was so evil he deserved to be hanged or beheaded or whatever.

She couldn't let him be killed. They had unfinished business, for Hera's sake! But if they didn't go to the monastery, Dash would die of his injuries. There were no portals around here that she could sense, and if her stress during the barghest fight hadn't summoned one, it wasn't going to. The infinity bottle wasn't a heal-all.

While she tried to come up with a plan, she might as well keep working on Stride. He didn't have the best poker face in the world.

"So who was the girl?" she asked again. "It couldn't have been the wueen."

Stride stiffened. "What makes you so certain?"

Delphie spread her hands. "Because Dash and I ran into the queen on the road and she didn't even recognize him."

Stride, moving almost as fast as his dying brother had, caught her shoulders. So now touching her was okay? "Dash didn't say anything about meeting a queen today. This is of vital importance. Which queen? What did they say to one another? Did he attempt to molest her?"

"No, he didn't molest her. We ran from her. How many queens are there?" Nearly every dimension she knew of with kings and queens only had a few, sprinkled amongst the commoners like bossy toadstools.

"Many. Well, you wouldn't know, would you? What clan did she head?"

Delphie thought about the tall, haughty woman. Her hair had been a garish, fake-looking hot pink, not a lovely candy shade like Delphie's. It had clashed awfully with her yellow eyes and ruby crown. And her dress—shudder. "Is there a Tacky Clan?"

Stride released her shoulders with a snort. "Of course there's not a tacky clan. We are djinn. We are never...tacky. What did this queen look like?"

"Pink hair, yellow eyes, orange stars, green clovers," Delphie said brightly.

"Orange stars and green clovers?" He frowned. It seemed to be his habitual expression. "That combination doesn't sound like any queen I know."

"And blue diamonds," Delphie added with a smirk. Of course none of this was getting Dash to that monastery so he could receive healing, only to be put to death by the evil king.

Who might be one of many evil kings who sent djinn like Stride out to do his bidding but forbid them from doing...you know. And put djinn like Dash to death for doing...you know.

Man, this dimension was as screwed up as any she'd ever visited.

"Would you be serious?" he exclaimed.

"I'm always serious about diamonds." She discreetly moseyed around the room to see if she could spot her bag of dust. He eyed her suspiciously, so she said, "Never mind me. I pace when I think. What were you saying about Dash and the queen? How many queens is many?"

"As many as we have female clans. The djinn are organized in a gender-segregated system, and at the head of each clan is a king or queen." He sighed, as if giving in to her wiles, though all she'd done was repeatedly ask him to explain. While he repeatedly asked her to quit talking. "Dash willfully touched and seduced Queen Aurora, betrothed of King Ainmire, long may he reign."

"He said he was celibate until he left Djinn?"

"He lies," Stride snarled. His face reddened with anger, and his eyes narrowed to slits to match his pupils. "He deserves his execution for breathing upon one single hair of her beauteous head."

Delphie quailed against the door at Stride's sudden fury. Wow, he was not happy his brother had hooked up with this queen. He seemed to blame the entirely of it on Dash, instead of acknowledging it took two to tango. Djinn family values must not be that valuable.

"Why is it all Dash's fault if he and this queen had some hot times?" Delphie asked.

"She would never betray her vows!" Stride roared. "She was tricked and seduced." He stalked toward her like he wanted to punish her for his brother's dating habits. "Woman, you talk more than anyone I've ever met. Are you never silent?"

"Not often." Delphie gulped and pressed herself against the wood. When she shuffled back, something big and hard bonked her heels.

She looked down. It was the sheaf of instructions for the White Stands fairy dust, laying forgotten in front of the door.

She stared at the tome of instructions for a minute as her brained ticked into high gear. She wasn't almost a genius on the Supersique scale because of lucky guesses. It was suspicious that Me had shown up in the top-secret djinn dimension like it wasn't at all a secret, and Stride had merely encouraged him to leave instead of getting as cranky about outlanders as he had with her.

Before Me had come to the door, she'd wished for reliable fairy dust. And poof, here was a manual to teach her how to use her fairy dust. She'd been hungry and boom, one of her favorite snacks. It was as if she thought of something and it appeared.

Come to think of it, she'd wished for a lot of things in the past several hours. She'd wished for the curse to be lifted, she'd wished to be pretty again, she'd wished for a way out of the frat house... And while she hadn't wished for a hot, half-naked hunk to kiss her until her head spun and her standards crumbled, Dash had definitely done that.

But remembering his kisses distracted her from what promised to be a Huge Revelation.

Delphie glanced from the book to Stride and back again. No, it was coincidence. Had to be. Then again, this was the genie, er, djinn dimension. Maybe there was something to the three wishes thing? Which wishes counted and which didn't? What was she missing?

While she stared up at him without speaking, Stride had managed to calm himself down. "I apologize for my outburst. It is best if you sleep, pixie. It will keep you from talking."

"Have you considered the fact the barghests aren't sleeping?" She pointed at the hole in the roof. One of the beasts might be a kitten now, but they weren't all kittens. Stride had left poor Me out there to defend himself.

Possibly he was still there, trembling before the kittens and barghests, writing up his CSR report before moving on to his next assignment.

How _had_ Me transported to the djinn dimension anyway? Imps had to know where they were going to control a random portal. Was the customer service homing beacon that powerful, or had she wished Me here? Was that why Stride hadn't been upset by the outlander imp? She didn't know how djinn wishes worked, but magic took a logical path if at all possible. Either way, Me might know a way home. And if he did, he could take her with him.

Provided he didn't get eaten by a barghest first.

She placed her hand on the deadbolt and twisted. Stride didn't want to take action until the morning, and then the action he intended to take was horrible.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Stride warned.

"Or what?" she asked.

"If you leave now, my brother will die in your infinity bottle and you will die in the jaws of a barghest."

Dammit. Guilt slammed into her and she stopped. She couldn't leave this dimension without getting her djinn to a healer. To find a healer she needed Stride.

Though what good was getting Dash healed if he was to be executed? There had to be another healer, another monastery somewhere, who would take pity. What she really needed wasn't Stride but a map.

"You know, all your glaring is making it hard to think," she said.

"I am not glaring." He glared at her. "You need to cease talking."

"Maybe you don't like me, but I sure wish..."

Stride hissed. Blue flashed around them, and Delphie felt a clue stick smack her on the ass. "I wish I had a map!"

She held out her hands. Nothing fell into them until she noticed movement near the bookcase. A piece of paper wafted onto the floor from a higher shelf. A map.

Wouldn't you know?

Did this confirm djinn wishes or didn't it? She trotted to the map, Stride following.

Wishes, wishes. If she'd had three wishes, she'd used them already...or had she? The Nutella. No, that wasn't one. Was it? Had there been blue air? Was it connected?

The fairy dust and the imp CSR. Okay, that was definitely a djinn-tastic, blue-glowing wish. The map. Yup. Was that two or three? And what about all her wishes before she'd entered this dimension? Was this why Dash had said those odd things about whether she _wished_ he and she had been in his bedroom?

Someone really should have told her about wishing so she could have kept track. Argh, it was enough to make her wish she'd stayed in bed that morning.

Oops. She clamped her hand over her mouth so she wouldn't say anything.

Nothing happened.

"The expression on your face is making me nervous," Stride said. "What are you plotting?"

Damn it. It seemed she'd used the wishes all up. What would Stride do to prevent her from ruining his mission? And what else did she have at her disposal?

The map, which she picked up. And the instruction booklet. She returned to the front door to toe open the fairy dust manual, Stride right behind her.

"I said, what are you plotting?" he demanded.

What she saw in the manual was... "You've got to be kidding me!"

"I assure you that I'm not kidding."

"Word of command. How archaic." Delphie stamped her foot against the floor. Now if only she could find that pesky dust and try it out. Stride was far too big and strong to handle without magic. He could stop her from leaving, from going, from just about anything. "I wish, oh how I wish."

"Shut up," he said rudely. There was no accompanying blue glow, perhaps because there had been no actual wish in her mind?

Interesting. Delphie glanced down to hide her smirk, and her gaze fell upon the bag of fairy dust lay crumpled a few feet away. A coincidence, not a wish. Stride followed her line of sight.

"Oh no, you don't." He stomped to the bag and stood in front of it.

She stepped closer to him and he stiffened. She trailed a finger across his lips. "What's wrong, big boy? You only like to dally with shifters on Earth Two?"

Stride crossed his arms. "Do not attempt to seduce me. You will fail."

Handling a big, strong man was easier with brains, not brawn. "But you're so pretty."

He reddened. "Thank you, pixie, but I, er, would not want to, er."

As he hemmed and hawed, Delphie darted around him and grabbed the bag, pinched a small amount of dust between her fingers and threw it at him while yelling a word of command.

The fairy dust sparkled around him. Stride blinked and shook his head.

So White Sands' fairy dust _was_ different. Would the word of command work?

Poof!

"What in Hades have you done to me, pixie?" Stride's voice was much higher-pitched when it came out of a foot-tall djinn. Roughly the size of a Ken doll, he stuck his hands on his hips. "Fix it. Now."

Delphie shook her head. "Nope. Not until you help me figure out how to save your brother for real. Keep it up and I'll shrink you further and put you in an infinity bottle."

Stride muttered a long string of what had to be curses. That tone and inflection was the same in any language. Probably pretty creative ones, too, based on the length and vehemence of his diatribe.

When he finally came up for air, he glared up at Delphie. "Why do you care about the traitor anyway? He doesn't love you. That philanderer is not capable of love. His fate has already been decided."

"I didn't say I loved him, but I got him into this mess." Delphie heard the tremor in her own voice and winced. She hated being weepy, but damn it, she cared about Dash, for whatever stupid reason. She wasn't through with that man. "There has to be some way around your king's rules."

"Very well." Stride bowed his small, gorgeous head. "There is a way, but I don't think you're going to like it."

"I don't have to like it, but I'll do it." Delphie stared down at the mini-Stride. "I may have a habit of getting into messes, but I make a point of always cleaning them up. Tell me how to save him."

"If I promise not to hinder you, will you return me to my full size? I'll allow you to wish us to the monastery." Stride sighed. "Once the monks have healed him, the abbot can perform the ceremony."

"Wishes are real. I knew it," she exclaimed. "That's the blue glow, isn't it?"

"Wishes are the reason the djinn dimension is secret and djinn do not leave it," he said. "We'll discuss this later. I thought you were worried about Dash?"

"I think I used up all my wishes." Delphie nibbled on her lower lip. "My last one didn't work."

"You've one more, at the least." Stride tapped his tiny foot. "You pulled two wishes from me. I felt them. Any others you made would have been granted by my brother, whom you so thoughtfully stuck into an infinity bottle where magics and wishes cannot affect him."

"Are you saying we could have stopped the barghest or healed your brother if you'd had the guts to tell me about wishing before I used the infinity bottle?"

His small face grew stony. "To tell an outlander about wish granting is forbidden. If the wish compulsion isn't used within a certain time frame, it fades, erasing the djinn's entrapment."

So entrapment was when a djinn had to grant someone's wishes. "In other words, you're a selfish asshole, unwilling to put yourself at my mercy to save your brother. I think we're beyond me being an outlander now. You'd better explain everything before you get someone killed."

"There's no need to explain. You have one remaining wish. I'll tell you what to wish for to best solve the quandary we find ourselves in with Dash. After that, you need to leave this dimension and never return."

"Not so fast. Do I get three wishes from any djinn I meet?" Delphie clapped her hands. "What about that nasty queen? Do I get wishes from her or her footwomen?"

"No. Wishes are touch activated—by the opposite gender." Stride's smirk was obnoxious, even in miniature. "Since you touched me treacherously when offering the food, I owe you three. But there are limits, you know."

"Of course I don't know." The science explained why Stride had been hysterical about skin contact, but Dash hadn't seemed worried. He'd sought skin contact out, in fact. Had he ever! Did he not care whether he granted her wishes? "I've never met a djinn. How am I supposed to know the rules?"

"The rules are common sense. No wishing for more wishes. No changing the past. No global destruction or global peace. The usual. That is how we perform magic, outside of magics granted to us by our king."

"Fine." His superior attitude was getting annoying. "I wish you—"

"Stop!" He kicked her shin with his small foot. "You can't waste the last one on whatever you were about to say. We need to transport to the monastery with it. Your dust won't do that for us, will it?"

"I was only going to—"

He kicked her again. It felt like rubber bands pinging her skin. "Pixie, do not say another careless word. Your impulsiveness will doom him. We truly need the last wish for transport. Djinn powers are constrained. We have our clan powers and our wings, but that is all."

"What the heck is your deal? Just shake my hand and give me more wishes," she suggested.

"Once a djinn has been entrapped to someone, there is a neutral period in the aftermath. You can get no more wishes from me for some time. Thank the Goddess. Your impulsiveness pains me."

"Whatever." She supposed she ought to cooperate. She might have proper instructions for the fairy dust, but she couldn't transport them to the monastery if she'd never been there. And she still didn't sense any portals. How emotional did she have to get to attract one in this joint?

"Before we go," he ordered, "use your cursed dust to return me to my normal size."

"Okay." Delphie pulled out a half pinch of fairy dust. "On one condition. You have to promise me Dash won't get executed."

He gave a downright evil chuckle. "I promise. This is going to be even more fun than catching him in the first place. Please use that vile substance carefully. I've no desire to turn into a kitten."

"I read the instructions." One page of them, anyway. She sprinkled dust on his wee head and commanded him to return to normal. As soon as he was back to his original six feet, she tapped her foot. "Now let's go."

"You have to wish us to the monastery if you don't want to walk through the barghest-infested woods in the dark." Delphie stuffed the dust pouch into her bra. He'd better not go after it there, or she'd use her last wish to shrivel his...ego. "I don't have Dash's superspeed. I have stamina."

"We could fly," she reminded him. "We do have wings." She'd rather save that last wish. Who knew when she could wrangle any more if all the djinn dudes would be careful not to touch her?

"That takes almost as long as walking," he responded, "and barghests aren't the only beasts in the forest. Some have wings."

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you?" He was wasting time taunting her while his brother could be dying. "Tell me what to say."

"Smart." He tipped his chin at her. "Repeat after me. 'I wish Stride, Dash and I were safely in the healer's quarters at the Ainmire monastery.' Then you might want to hold my arm. Your touch is not currently an issue for me."

Other than the arm-holding part, the words sounded harmless enough. Delphie obediently repeated them.

There was a flash and a pop. Delphie felt her head wobble, like riding a merry-go-round after too much tequila. Her feet landed on a smooth stone floor, and Stride popped into sight beside her. She swayed, and he smirked when she grabbed his arm for balance.

A plump old djinn with graying dark hair and wide, light brown eyes hurried over, his soft black robe swishing around bare feet and ankles. "Stride, I haven't seen you in months! And you pop in here like... Whatever's the matter?"

"We need your help, Uncle. I finally arrested Dash, but he's gotten himself into another fix." Stride took the stasis bottle from Delphie's hand. "He came up against a barghest and some foul fairy dust."

The old man stared into the bottle. "Oh, my poor boy. You say fairy dust did this?" He narrowed his eyes at Delphie. "Wielded by a pixie, perchance?"

"Not on purpose." Delphie's lower lip trembled ominously and she bit down on it. Would Dash ever forgive her? "Can you help him? I can free him from the stasis jar, but he'll need to be immediately healed to withstand the shock."

"Of course I can, child." Uncle Djinn, or whatever his name was, studied Dash's container again. "Although—I hate to say it—this might be kinder than bringing him back to face execution. He looks rather peaceful right now."

"The pixie has offered to do whatever needs to be done in order to rescind the execution order, Uncle," Stride said.

"Is the pixie properly quenched?" Uncle Djinn asked.

"I could use a drink," Delphie said. The Nutella and crackers and kissing had left her with a bit of a dry mouth.

"No," Stride said with great irritation. "Hers was an accidental incursion, but that will be my brother's problem, won't it? Heal Dash while I get the abbot."

"Very well." The old man actually smiled at Delphie. "That's very kind of you, miss. I hope you and Dash will be very happy together."

"What do you mean?" Delphie looked back and forth between the two grinning djinn as if she were watching a spriteball match. "What don't I know? Why do you need the abbot?"

Stride chuckled wickedly. "To perform the ceremony, of course."

"What ceremony?"

"Your wedding."

Chapter 6

Delphie blinked. What? The two men waited while she processed this news. Her brain swirled. After considerable time spent tumbling around each other to the sound of a flushing toilet, Delphie's thoughts coalesced into a single word: Wedding.

The snort that erupted from her was decidedly un-pixielike. "My wedding?"

Stride grinned and nodded. He was entirely too pleased about the situation. Bastard.

Delphie bit her lip. It wasn't like she'd never been married before. Pixie marriages sometimes lasted as long as six months, but normally, a month was all there was to it. She held the infinity bottle to the light and squinted at Dash's still form. He _was_ pretty hot. And an excellent kisser who knew all her weak spots. Irritating and pushy at times, sure, but she could overlook that for a bit.

Hells, she could probably keep him around for a year without getting bored.

"Fine," she said.

"Fine, what?" Stride asked.

She shrugged. "I'll do it. Go get the abbot guy. If it'll save Dash's life, I'm game."

Uncle Djinn beamed at her. "Welcome to the family, my girl!" He threw his arms around her in an enormous bear hug that made her squeak. And here she'd thought all the djinn men would be stingy about touches.

Stride raised his eyebrows. "Amazing."

"What?" Delphie asked, hands on hips. "Don't you want your uncle giving me three wishes as a wedding gift?"

"Oh, child, I no longer grant wishes. I'm far too old." The short djinn smiled. "Young, virile djinn like Dash and Stride are the ones who get entrapped. It's the hormones, you know."

"Is that so?" Delphie asked with a smirk.

"Not always." Stride refused to look her in the eye. "The sun is up, so it should be safe to travel. I'll be back soon." He turned on his heel and stalked out the door.

"Huh," Delphie said, wondering how to interpret Stride's reaction. It didn't seem to be a badge of honor to have wishes conned out of you, and she'd scored three from Stride. "He's huffy."

Uncle Djinn shook his head. "My sister's boys have always been volatile, and being outland for so long hasn't made them any mellower." He pointed at the bottle still clutched in Delphie's fist. "Shall we get started?"

She held out the bottle. "We'll have to work fast. He's in pretty bad shape."

"You leave that to me, my girl. Pull him out and restore him to his normal, scrawny size, and I'll take care of the rest."

Scrawny? Were they talking about the same guy? Delphie licked her lips and thought about the rippling muscles of her husband-to-be. The coming month had real potential. "Is there somewhere special you want me to put him...Uncle Djinn? What's your name?"

"Zip. You can call me Uncle Zip."

Zip. Dash. Stride. What on earth was up with the men in this family? Didn't anybody stroll or meander? Was there a Grandpa Waddle on their father's side? Delphie squelched a giggle.

"Where do you want me to put him, Uncle Zip?"

He waved at a couch up against the wall. "Over there is fine." He grabbed a handful of silver-flaked rocks from a bowl on a table and zipped over. The man could move fast, despite his bulk. It explained the name.

Delphie followed him, then produced a full pinch of dust from the bag in her cleavage. She sprinkled dust over the bottle. "Restore!" she said in a strong, sure voice.

The bottle shook in her hand, and mist rose from the opening. It curled on itself, then floated over the couch, spreading and solidifying into the shape of a man.

Dash moaned. One weak hand rose to swat at something invisible only he could see. His strength left him, and his arm dropped to his side. His breathing slowed in rattling gasps. They were losing him fast.

Tears filled her eyes. She wanted him to live, dammit! "Hurry, Uncle Zip."

The older man went to work, laying the rocks in a straight line down Dash's body. He mumbled words Delphie didn't recognize, then bent over Dash and blew on the stones. They lit up in bright, neon colors. Uncle Zip clapped his hands together. The rocks quivered, and their lights went out.

Dash opened his tawny eyes. "Woman, so help me, if you ever stick me in a bottle again, I will turn you over my knee and spank you until you beg for mercy."

Delphie pushed the bag of pixie dust deeper into her cleavage and tried to decide if that might be worth trying. She felt her cheeks get warm.

"Enough of that," Uncle Zip said. "Play whatever games you want on the honeymoon, but right now we have a wedding to prepare for." He disappeared into the next room, humming "Moonriver."

Dash sat up and scratched his head. "Honeymoon? Wedding?"

She took a step back and looked away. Telling Dash the bizarre news while standing so close to him was awkward and embarrassing. "They said it was the only way to keep you from being executed."

He frowned. "And you agreed to this?"

She nodded. "I got you into this. It's my responsibility."

He was silent for a few minutes. Delphie would have given her last pinch of dust to hear what he was thinking. But she didn't ask. She shifted her feet and tried not to fidget.

After a while, he cleared his throat. "Are you sure?"

She smiled. "I'm very sure."

His gaze drifted over her body, taking in every curve, and returned to her face. "Thank you," he said. His voice was soft. "I don't know that I deserve it, but thank you."

Uncle Zip barreled into the room carrying a small wreath of dried flowers looped over his arm, a filmy white curtain panel, and a small box.

"Here we are!" He draped the curtain over Delphie's head and slipped the flowers over it to hold it in place like a crown. "Now you look like a bride."

He grinned at her. Delphie felt ridiculous. She glanced over at Dash and found him smiling, too. She shrugged. Good enough for djinn, apparently.

The door opened and Stride walked in accompanied by a man in a long green gown and a tall gold hat.

"What is this, another rehearsal?" the man asked. "That was yesterday."

"No, it's an actual wedding." Uncle Zip gestured toward Dash and Delphie with an upturned palm. "Look."

The abbot glanced between Delphie and Dash with surprise on his features. "But that's the traitor who—"

"The girl agreed to marry him to stay the execution," Stride explained. "Who'd have imagined an outlander would possess such honor?"

Stride thought her honorable for saving his brother from the execution? Awww. Perhaps he wasn't such a hardened enforcer after all. She would be responsible for reuniting a family.

The abbot glided across the room. "Now I understand why there's some urgency. We certainly need to get them married before the king discovers Dash is here."

"Indeed. We're all ready for you, Your Adequacy," Uncle Zip said.

Dash and Stride exchanged a look Delphie had trouble reading. Hostility? Dread? She sighed. Men were always taking everything so seriously. If the king were still mad at Dash, the two of them could just return to the prime dimension for the duration of the marriage.

"Lighten up, guys," she said.

They lined up in front of the abbot, who tried hard to arrange his face into some sort of serious expression but mostly failed. He elbowed Uncle Zip. "I haven't performed one of these in nearly a hundred years! And to do two in such a short time. I am blessed. Do you have the cord?"

Uncle Zip opened the small box he'd brought out earlier and produced a thick rope woven of golden threads. The abbot wrapped it around Dash's left wrist and hand, then did the same to Delphie's right with the other end of the cord. Though they still stood several feet apart, Delphie felt a superstitious chill wiggle through her when the cord linked them together.

"Do you, Delphinia Bathsheba Slippery-Elm, take this djinn to be your husband?"

Delphie gasped. How did he know her name? Where was the pomp and ceremony? The long-winded lead up to the vows? She shook her head. Djinn were a mystery.

The abbot frowned. "Is that a _no_?"

"What? No. I mean yes." Delphie took a deep breath and pulled her head together. "I mean, I do."

The abbot smiled and turned to Dash. "Do you, Dash al Fortunata al Ainmire, take this pixie to be your wife?"

Dash swallowed hard. "I do."

"Then let it be so!" The abbot waved over the cord that held their hands together. It glowed a bright blue, then sank into their skin and disappeared. "May the cord that binds your souls never chafe, and may your love burn ever bright as the seven suns of Palafinia. Let your only wishes be those of the heart. I now pronounce you husband and wife until the end of time."

Delphie choked. "Until the end of time?"

The abbot smiled. "Why yes, child. A true djinn marriage is forever." He leaned toward Dash. "What are you waiting for, son? Kiss your bride."

Dash flashed her a huge smile and leaned toward her. His golden brown eyes twinkled. "C'mere, wife."

"No!" Delphie scuttled away from the handsome, muscular djinn. She was crazy not to let him kiss her. But she wasn't a total user. "You have to stop touching me."

The abbot, Uncle Zip, Dash and Stride stared at her in shock.

"My dear, there's no turning back now. The bindings have been set." Uncle Zip tsked and shut the box that had held the marriage cord.

"Yes, indeed," the abbot agreed. The jolly man had a fringe of white hair around his shiny gold cone hat. "If you're not a royal, the only way to break a djinn marriage bond is to die."

"And since saving me from death is why we married, we might as well enjoy it," Dash said.

As much as Delphie wanted to kiss her new husband—though she wouldn't believe that whole "forever" part until they went to see a lawyer imp she knew—she couldn't bear the guilt of forcing wishes out of Dash. Entrapping him the first minute of their marriage was no way to begin a relationship.

Theirs would simply have to be a—sob!—sexless union.

Unless she wanted something and he wasn't cooperating.

But she should start as she ought to go.

"I can't touch you or you'll have to grant me wishes." Delphie folded her arms because it was very, very tempting to touch him. And stroke him. And run her fingers through his silky, long, dark hair. And nibble her way down his...ahem!

"I'm not afraid to touch you. Anywhere." Dash demonstrated by catching her hand, the one that had had the cord wrapped around it, in his own. Blue lines gleamed briefly on their skin and faded.

"Oops," Delphie said. The blue glow confirmed it. Dash had probably just signed up for another three wishes. "How many have you granted already? You've touched me a lot. I figure the Nutella was one and the portal in the frat house was one and who knows what else I said?"

"Zero," Dash said. "No wishes for you unless you mean me in general. I'm a wish come true."

"What is this nonsense about the pixie entrapping anyone? Why isn't she quenched?" The abbot threw up his hands. "Dash al Fortunata al Ainmire, you might be a very, very recently-pardoned traitor, but you know you aren't supposed to bring outlanders into our dimension and you certainly aren't supposed to marry one without making sure they are completely quenched."

"I don't even know what that means," Delphie said plaintively, "but people keep saying it and I'm really thirsty."

"Stride, get my beautiful bride some wine." Dash didn't seem concerned that the abbot was turning purple with rage and giving him an unholy mean glare. He slid his arm around Delphie's waist. "It's bad luck to leave your bride's side so soon after the wedding."

"Allow me." Uncle Zip bustled into another room and returned with a bottle and five glasses before Delphie had fully registered he was gone. He handed glasses around, a set of intricately carved tumblers. "We should toast the happy couple."

"Wait." She turned to the abbot, sensing an ally. "I don't want to toast. I want to know everything. I'm married to Dash now. Part of the family. Doesn't that mean you can tell me about the djinn?"

"You may be married," the abbot said, "but if the whippersnapper hasn't properly quenched you, you're a danger to us. This is highly irregular."

A proper quenching was beginning to sound more and more like something Delphie didn't want to have done to her. Was quenching like...shushing? Subduing? Or, good heavens, brainwashing? Was this one of those horrible patriarchal dimensions, and had she just signed her little-pixie-in-the-kitchen warrant?

Suddenly Dash's arm around her, his hand resting on her hip, felt confining.

"I'll try not to be dangerous or touch anyone." Where could she find an outgoing portal? There should be one close to where she and Dash had come in, but she'd never find it again. She had a sense of direction about as strong as an incubus's morals. "Look at it from my point of view. I was minding my own business in the prime dimension when Dash and I, well, we had a conflict."

"That's one way of putting it." Dash snuggled her closer. In truth, she'd started it, and her malfunctioning fairy dust had worsened it, and Dash had compounded it by being so sexy she might just be falling for him.

"But the thing is, I'm not here on purpose. Dash pushed me into this dimension." Delphie took a deep drink of the wine. Oooh, nice. "Since I've been here, Stride and Dash have avoided explaining everything they possibly could. They wouldn't tell me what they were, and they wouldn't tell me about wishes. If I've violated djinn rules, it's not my fault."

"Oh, they aren't allowed to tell you about wishes," the abbot agreed. He nodded at Uncle Zip to indicate his glass was full enough. "That's part of the code of silence."

Delphie drank some more, beginning to feel quite mistreated. She leaned on Dash—on her sexy new husband who wasn't afraid to touch her. "They wouldn't tell me what powers they have."

"Of course not," the abbot said. "No clan members voluntarily reveal the powers granted to them by their king or queen."

"And Stride..." Delphie paused for another nice drink. The wine tingled all the way to her stomach. It packed a wallop, unlike the wines of the prime dimension. Or was that Dash's hand, his finger sneaking beneath her waistband to caress her bare skin? "Stride wouldn't tell me where the money...the mona...the monastery was."

"Naturally. Stride is our most decorated enforcer." The abbot nodded wisely. "We've been in a wish feud with Clan Aurora, you understand, and we keep our physical location obscured at all times."

"Ahhhh-rora." Delphie smiled at Uncle Zip when he filled her pretty cup to the brim. "Is that the chickie who supposably..."

Dash inserted himself between Delphie and the abbot. Or, rather, he shoved Delphie behind him. She hopped on her toes, trying to see over his shoulder, while his muscular arm kept her firmly in place.

"Your Adequacy," Dash said, "we don't mean to keep you. It's daylight, and I'm sure many in the clan would like to confess various indiscretions."

"It's no trouble," the abbot said. "I have time for another glass of wine. Weddings don't happen every day, you know." He held out his tumbler. "Well, not until tomorrow, but that's a clan union, not a standard marriage. That's different."

"Tomorrow?" Stride and Dash exclaimed.

"Right, right. You boys have been outland." The abbot brought his hands to his chest in a genuflection. "Tomorrow we celebrate the grand juncture of King Ainmire and Queen Aurora, long may they reign. Thus shall end the wish feud of our clans. It is a momentous occasion indeed."

"I hope," Delphie said, interrupted by a hiccup. "Hope ish longer than our sheremony."

"This cannot happen," Dash said grimly.

And then...he was gone.

"But it's bad luck to leave your bride after the wedding." Delphie's knees wobbled right before she had a seat on the floor to stop it from moving so much.

When none of the men in the room said anything, a hiccup shook her petite body. Holy goblin balls, she felt...funny. And good. She glanced around for her new husband. Was Dash playing some kind of "catch me catch me" sex game? Hiding so he could jump out at her? Well, just let him try. She was ready. No touching! Even if she was a little horny now.

"Sash? I mean, Dash?" She giggled at her mistake. Wouldn't it be funny if he had a cousin named Sash? Her giggles erupted into full, bent-over laughter. Oh, these djinn names were too funny.

Beside her, Stride shook and then hung his head. "Another mess I've been left to clean up for my brother. His bride is drunker than a hobbit on mead, and he's run off to assault Aurora. Mark my words, I know he has!"

Wait? What had he just said? "Aur-roar?" She shook her head. "Aurora? My husband left me to go see _her_?"

She wasn't laughing anymore. Now she was angry. Why, that—!

"Now Stride, you don't know that's where he went," Uncle Zip interjected, stepping close to Delphie and laying a calming hand on her shoulder. "Isn't there a more important matter at hand?" She glanced up and saw Zip nod his head toward her. "Someone still needs to be quenched."

She shoved the old djinn away and stumbled to her feet, threatening Stride. "If you know where that faithless scoundrel I married is, you'd better take me to him. Now! I mean it!" She tried to put her hands on her hips to seem more forceful, but her fingers had a hard time finding them. She wanted nothing more than to give Dash a piece of her mind. The thought of him with another female caused tears to well in her eyes.

"If he's caught with Aurora before her wedding tomorrow, it won't matter that he's married. That depraved idiot would still be executed. It would be no more than he deserves, but..." Stride's gaze softened to something close to sympathy as he looked at Delphie. "I can track where he's gone. Come, pixie. Let's find your husband before he does something else foolish. And before he can lay a finger on Aurora."

Stride held out his hand toward her. Uh-uh. No way, pal. She wasn't touching _him_ again. She stepped back and almost tumbled over a chair but caught herself.

With a grunt of disapproval, Stride moved forward and grabbed her arm, jerking her to him. "It's too soon for you to compel me again. I'm immune. And I can't leave you on your own. No telling what trouble you'd get into like this."

Delphie blinked, felt the world around her blur and rush past, and before she knew it, she was standing on some sort of balcony. She took a step and almost fell over she was so dizzy. "I thought you said you weren't fast like Dash?"

"I'm not. I warned you I was slow." Slow? Was he pulling her wing? "Pixie, you've been passed out for most of our journey. You didn't even notice the jarring of the wagon or me flying us up here."

They'd traveled by wagon? News to her. Her head felt clear, though. And it hurt like a jersey devil. "Where are we?"

His lips thinned, and he didn't answer. She glanced into the room that opened from the balcony and felt a rush of dizziness again as she saw Dash standing there, holding hands with a beautiful djinn woman dressed scantily in a few pieces of white ribbon—and nothing else.

Chapter 7

Her feet seemed to have a life of their own as they carried her forward in the chamber with Dash and the djinn lady.

"You scoundrel! Not even married an hour, and you're with another woman." She poked Dash in the chest with her finger, ignoring the woman beside him. "That's it. I want a divorce. Better yet, an annulment." She crossed her arms and glared at him.

Dash grinned down at her. "Are you jealous, my little pixie?"

Of course she was. She was his wife. Pixies were one hundred percent monogamous when married. Hence the short marriage spans. But still. "I consider my responsibility fulfilled. What you do to screw up from this point on is your prob—Hey!"

She squealed as a pair of strong hands hauled her forward and into his chest. His lips descended upon hers, and anything she might have been thinking evaporated like a fairy's mist.

Oh, my. He was such a great kisser. Better than her last seven husbands combined. His hands wandered on her body, rousing her. She stood on her toes and kissed him back until...

"Ahem." The djinn she assumed was Aurora cleared her throat and smiled when Delphie managed to focus on her. Stride was also grinning.

"Queen Aurora, this is the deliciously heroic pixie I was telling you about." Dash's arm curved around her shoulder and tucked her close against him. "May I present to you my wife, Delphie?"

The queen bowed her head regally. "I'm so very glad to meet you, Delphinia Bathsheba Slippery-Elm."

Uh, o-kay. Was she supposed to bow or something now? Tough. Delphie wasn't bowing to any woman who thought she could—

Gasping, Delphie tore away from Dash's side. "Oh, no," she moaned, looking at him with horror-stricken eyes.

"What is it, my wife?" Concerned, Dash followed her.

"I touched you again." She sniffled back tears. "Now you'll be forced to grant me wishes." Another thought struck her. "Wait a minute. You were touching her. Does that mean you have to do what she tells you?"

This was beginning to make sense. Maybe the queen had ensnared Dash and was forcing him to grant her own wishes. He'd mentioned a mission and failed to explain it to her. She spun on the female djinn.

"I wish you'd stay away from my husband!" Too late, Delphie covered her mouth with her hands. Who knew how such a wish would resolve itself? She didn't want the beautiful queen dead, just...away.

But nothing happened. The queen was still here.

"What is the meaning of this?" Stride stepped closer, reminding everyone he was still present. "Why haven't you granted her wish?" he asked Dash.

"Because I don't have to, brother." A huge smile covered Dash's face. "The queen and I were not lovers, as everyone assumed. She sent me on a secret mission to find a cure for the wish compulsion to stop her wedding to Ainmire...and ensure peace among the royals."

Stride gasped. "You found a cure?"

Dash held out his hands. "Indeed, brother. I have a cure. Granted, it means I can no longer collect wishes from djinn females myself, either, but I am free."

Before Delphie could process the full meaning of his words, the large, sturdy doors to the queen's chamber burst open. Female djinn dressed in armor rushed forward with weapons.

"It's the traitor, Dash al Fortunata al Ainmire. Seize him!"

Six female soldiers ran forward, swords held out.

Before they'd taken more than a step, Dash zipped across the room, using his superspeed. Delphie lost sight of him for a second, then saw him rip away the sword of the leftmost djinn. He flitted off before the guard could do more than cry out.

Delphie's eyes crossed, trying to keep track of her husband. The guards were having trouble, too. Half lunged one way and crashed into the others when Dash switched directions yet again.

Delphie cheered. And then Dash was beside her, whispering in her ear, "Stride's going to fly you to safety."

He was? Darn it, Delphie wanted to stay and watch the show. "Wait—"

Before she could say anymore, Dash was gone again, zipping behind the clump of guards. He disarmed another. Delphie was impressed. Four more and the threat would be over.

Stride started toward Delphie but was intercepted by one of the guards. His hand thrust forward, and a blue sword appeared in it. They began sparring. Stride seemed particularly acrobatic, lacking Dash's speed but exceedingly careful not to let the guard—or her sword—get close to his body.

The female guard was also careful not to get close to Stride.

She could see how winning wishes from one another was troublesome to the djinn indeed.

She looked around for Aurora and saw that she'd retreated to a corner. She had a grim

expression on her face, but she wasn't doing anything useful like creating a sword, sprouting wings to fly out of the tower, or calling her less Dash-hating guards.

But wait—these guards were female. That made them Aurora's guards, right? If Aurora was the one who'd sent Dash on his mission, why were her own guards trying to capture him? The clans had to be gender segregated because of the no-touchie-no-wishie thing.

The thing Dash supposedly had cured.

Delphie suspected there was more at stake here than Dash's freedom. She didn't have time to ask what.

"Grab the pixie!" a new voice called. Based on the livery she wore and the towels she held, the speaker, a female with bright green locks, was another of Aurora's clansmen. But instead of defending her mistress, she was pointing at Delphie. "She's Dash's bride."

Uh-oh. Did Aurora have any clansmen loyal to her? Had she known before now that she had spies in her midst?

Fortunately, the guards were occupied chasing Dash and didn't hear.

Dash grabbed the curtains off the window and tangled up two guards. Stride still fenced his chosen opponent. Delphie would have to take care of the boss spy herself. She'd never liked tattletales, not since that time in fourth grade when she accidentally turned the teacher's hair into snakes.

Smiling, she sidled closer to the treacherous, fluorescent-haired maid. "Good idea, staying out of the way against the wall."

"Grab her!" the spy demanded again.

Abandoning guile, Delphie yanked the ribbon from her hair and tossed it at the female djinn.

"Hush," she commanded. The pixie-cloth looped around the spy's face, muzzling her. She struggled against it, but the only thing that happened was her tacky hair came out of its bun and fell around her face like seaweed.

Before Delphie could congratulate herself on a job well done, one of the lady guards grabbed her from behind. Delphie yelped as a sword kissed her throat. Goblin balls! Someone had been listening to the spy after all.

"Surrender, Dash al Fortunata al Ainmire, or your bride dies," the djinn holding her bellowed. She was at least a foot taller than Delphie and ridiculously muscular. Struggling would only get Delphie's throat cut. Surreptitiously, she reached for the last of the fairy dust in her bra.

Dash, blurring across the room, slowed.

Fool. The guards had screeched something about Dash being a traitor—even though she'd married him to annul his sentence. If he got caught, she bet anything the evil King Ainmire would still execute him.

"Escape!" she yelled at him. "Rescue me later."

He hesitated, eyes finding hers. Delphie's chest warmed. _He was worried about her._ Her previous husbands would have cheerfully abandoned her. Especially Romulus, that rat.

Instead of running, Dash held out his hands in surrender.

A glowing blue net, like the one that had captured the barghest, flew through the air, thrown by two female guards. Dash swerved, but one arm got tangled. Stride shoved him out of the way as a second net fell. Dash wriggled free, and the female guards moved in on Stride.

Caught in the net, Stride couldn't avoid contact. A helmeted guard laid her hand on Stride's shoulder through the net. Pain flashed over his features as the wish-compulsion set in. "I wish Dash were imprisoned."

Expression tight, Stride nodded. "Granted."

Delphie scooped out some flecks of fairy dust and flung it over her shoulder at her guard. "Rubber sword!"

The guard gave a startled squawk as her weapon sproinged. Before Delphie could break free, the queen's room disappeared in a blast of blue and white.

Blinking, Delphie swayed on her feet. She was in a dim, unfurnished stone chamber without doors or windows—and Dash was with her.

He instantly crossed the room to stand beside her. "Are you hurt?" His thumbs gently stroked her throat.

"I'm fine," she said huskily.

He scowled. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I don't know why Stride included you in the guard's wish."

Delphie smiled. She looped her arms around her husband's very chivalrous neck and ran her fingers through his dark, silky hair. "Maybe he wanted to give us a honeymoon."

While Dash seemed happy to wrap his arms around her, too, that was as amorous as he got. "Wife, sexy as you may be, I don't think we should begin our marriage on the cold stone floor of a djinn prison tower. One of us might get hurt."

Delphie looked around the room. Nothing, no furniture, certainly no bed. Dash might be right. She pouted.

"Besides, we have bigger things to worry about." He gave her one last squeeze and released her. "Like getting out of here so we can stop that wedding tomorrow."

"Hmmph, that's not a very loverlike answer. You care more about Aurora and Ainmire's wedding than ours." Delphie sat cross-legged on the chilly floor, her bottom growing icy right through her skirt. "Some wedding day this is turning out to be. Can't I wish for a bed? Or even a futon? How about a furniture catalog? We have to pass the time somehow."

"I don't grant wishes anymore," Dash reminded her regretfully. "There are downsides to being free."

"So you were in a conspiracy with Queen Aurora?" she asked jealously. "Not that being cured of the wish compulsion is a bad thing, but why does she think it will end feuding between royals?"

"She was more worried about ending her wedding to Ainmire," Dash said. "And her reasons for that are her own."

"Fine," Delphie said. "No wishes. So what can you do?"

"I escaped the dimension before the banishment amputated my clan magics, except for flight, and I can shapeshift," Dash said.

"Why don't you turn yourself into the kind of djinn who can grant wishes so I can wish us out of here?" Better yet, she could wish them back to the prime dimension, away from all this craziness. His fellow djinn had thrown him out, named him a traitor, and tried to execute him. Still seemed to be trying to execute him despite the fact she'd married him to keep him out of trouble. She and Dash would be better off without them.

"It doesn't work that way." He walked to the wall and started running his hands over the stones, stopping every now and then to rap his knuckles on one.

Rising and dusting off her skirt, she joined him. "What are you doing?"

"Hoping for a secret passage. This old castle is full of them. If Stride twisted the wish enough to include you, he may have managed to twist the wish enough to send us to a cell that has one." Dropping a quick kiss on her cheek, he moved to the next segment of wall. The stone had partially crumbled mortar—though not enough to work any stones free—and grates along the floor, like drains or vents.

If he were trying to find a secret passage, he was going about it all wrong. But then, not everyone was a pixie with her species' innate portal skills.

The question was, could her talent attract a portal anywhere in the djinn dimension? She'd been some degree of upset the whole time she'd been here, and she'd sensed neither hide nor hair of any portals. It was like the djinn had placed a dampener spell on the whole dimension.

Which they probably had, what with their hermit-like society. Now how could she use this knowledge to her advantage?

Dash had worked his way halfway around the room. He was a fine figure of a man, even though at some point through the day he'd added a shirt and shoes to the pants he'd donned in the cabin in the forest. He was testing one of the grates now, seeing if he could pull it from the mortar.

"You're upsetting the spiders," Delphie pointed out as a whole family of red and yellow striped creepies crawled away from his questing hands. Magicus Arachnidis? "All spiders can bite, and if they're upset, I bet they bite harder."

"I'll fix that." Dash raised his foot to squash one.

She jerked him back, nearly off balance. "No! Don't you know what those are?"

"Should I?" He steadied himself by slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"You don't recognize them? Aren't they djinn spiders?" The slow-moving arachnids were an endangered supernatural critter found only in one dimension she knew of...and she hadn't known of djinn until yesterday. What were they doing here?

"Never seen them before in my life."

"That's interesting." She puzzled over what it might mean. "We should notify the Interdimensional Directorate of Supernatural Arachnidology and..."

Dash sighed, rolling his shoulders. "This isn't a field trip, Delphie. Could you try to take our situation seriously for five minutes? Do you know what's going to happen to us tomorrow? To Stride?"

Forgetting the spiders, she threw her hands in the air. "How am I supposed to know anything? You djinn take this code of silence thing to an extreme. If you'd been honest with me from the beginning, I could have prevented all of this from happening."

"Or you could have made it worse," Dash said.

"I don't make things worse, and on the rare instances I do..." She ignored him when he chuckled. "I fix it. Only I'm out of fairy dust. I used the last of it on a rubber sword spell."

"I would have saved you," Dash said. "Didn't you trust me?"

"No, I... Ooh, are we fighting? Does that mean makeup sex?" Furrowing her brow, she pondered for a moment. "But if we haven't even had _sex_ sex yet, can we do makeup sex?"

Dash left his explorations at the wall and took her in his arms for a thorough, long kiss. But just when Delphie's toes started to tingle, he broke it off.

"You're obsessed, my little pixie wife. Any other time I'd love it, but right now the fate of Aurora's entire clan—and perhaps more—is in our hands."

She tried not to pout. The fate of an entire clan and perhaps more was a big deal. "Looks like Aurora's clan has turned on her. All those female guards and her maid came after us."

"Ainmire wrested control of some guards from Aurora during the wish feud—the one she agreed to marry him to end. It's useful for a royal to have opposite gendered guards indebted to the crown." Dash frowned. "I don't know about the maid, though, and I don't know how deep the spy network reaches. If Ainmire knows..."

"Knows what?" Delphie asked.

"It's nothing." She could tell by his expression it wasn't nothing—it was a huge something. "But it should make you appreciate the seriousness of our situation. No one is what he or she seems, and Ainmire isn't going to allow our marriage to stop him from executing me."

"I'll touch him and use the wish compulsion to stop him," Delphie said. "Easy as pie. I got wishes from Stride, didn't I?"

He shook his head. "Royals are always protected in the presence of the opposite sex. You won't get close to him."

"Aurora wasn't protected."

"That's because she's under house arrest—for trying to escape the wedding again. Apparently she made it off-world once, and they caught her." He shook his head glumly. "My finding the cure was her last hope."

Delphie had always thought it would be a hoot to be a queen, but being a royal in the djinn realm didn't sound like it was fun at all. It was all wish feuds and marrying people you didn't like and traitors in your ranks. "Ainmire doesn't sound like he'd be a good husband, so I can appreciate her viewpoint."

"Nor is he a good king. Wedding or no wedding, because you're married to me, you and I will be tortured to death tomorrow. In fact, Stride may be forced to do the torturing as Ainmire's head enforcer."

"You've got to be kidding," Delphie said. "You won't have sex with me and our wedding isn't going to stop us from being killed? What a waste of an 'I do'!"

"Please be serious." At this point, he'd asked her to be serious enough that he sounded like a magic mirror stuck on rewind.

"I'm always serious about sex." And death. And it looked like she wouldn't be getting the one and would be getting the other.

Had she ever been in a situation this fatal? She supposed the demon dimension had had its flaws, but at least they didn't want to _kill_ her there. More like use her blood for orgies.

"You don't understand the danger you're in. Ainmere has a very dark, twisted imagination and a huge grudge against other fairy species. Having your wings torn off by rabid griffons while a dragon nibbles your toes will be the least of what he orders...and he has enough indebted soldiers on staff to get anything he wishes for."

Horrified, Delphie hugged herself and backed away from Dash. "Oh my, very bad. Very, VERY bad. Enough talk. We have to escape. We have to rescue Stride and Aurora. If only I had more of my dust."

"You know, I would almost wish for that dust right now. At least it introduces chaos." Dash walked back to the wall. "You think you could help me here? I know you can't cook—"

"Don't believe every cliché about the pixies. I can cook. Some. I watch _Top Chef_. Just add bacon and any dish is improved."

Dash smiled. "I do love bacon."

Delphie walked the perimeter of the room, too, using her pixie senses as he'd suggested. It was probably hopeless, but he'd asked her to try. She carefully avoided the family of Magicus Arachnidis as they investigated the circular, dusty room. One by one, the spiders disappeared back into the vent they'd come from. Apparently this room didn't meet their specifications.

Or this dimension didn't. And if they could get out...

Where exactly had Stride sent them?

"I need to ask you some questions," she said. "Is the djinn dimension on portal lockdown to keep it hidden?"

"Actually, yes," he said with a grin. "It's like a giant version of this tower. Did I not mention that?"

He hadn't mentioned much.

"But there are some portals," she said. "We got here, after all."

If there were any permanent portals, her magic could eventually attract a pixie portal. Especially if the permanent portal wasn't that far away.

"Yes, there are some," he said. "Heavily guarded. Escaping the djinn dimension is no simple matter."

"Can you transform into a critter with wings?" She nudged the spider vent with her toe, a glimmer beginning to take shape in her mind.

A magical glimmer.

He shook his head and examined his bruised knuckles for a moment. "They've locked the tower down. I can manage a few inherent magics, but nothing major. If I were to shapeshift, even for you, my heart, the stones of the tower might siphon all of my energy and prevent me from shifting back. Another reason not to have sex right now. I could die for lack of energy before we, um, finish the task."

Much as she took offense at the idea of making love to her being labeled as a task, she magnanimously decided to rise above her sexy husband's poor choice of words. _He'll learn._

Focusing on the main issue, she said, "If I get us out of here within the next five minutes, can we take a break for an hour and celebrate our marriage properly? It's bad luck to go the night, much less on a life-or-death mission, without having consummated our union. It breaks about fifty pixie superstitions."

"And we must respect those," he said.

She poked him in the ribs. "If you shifted into a...griffon, let's say, and we portal somewhere else, how long before you built up enough energy to shift back?" Griffons were beautiful, intelligent creatures, but no way was she having sex with her husband in griffon form.

"It depends on where we go."

"Out." Delphie picked up a loose stone, squinting in the dim light to gauge its heft and likelihood of crumbling. It seemed solid enough.

Dash cleared his throat. "And how do you propose we escape if there's no door?"

"Who needs a door?" She arrowed her hand through the air, undulating it gracefully. "You can bash down the wall and we'll fly. You won't even have to carry me." She unfurled her pink wings, smiling when he reached out to touch one.

"I don't think a griffon can bash through these walls. They were built to last for centuries." He was frustratingly unimpressed by her brilliant idea.

"Since you aren't well-educated in your fellow supernatural species, those spiders were Earth Two Florida wolf spiders. They only live in southern Florida in the second dimension—not the prime dimension, mind you, they don't have spiders like that. The second dimension is the one..."

"The alternate version of prime, yes, yes," he urged. "It's also the one where my dear brother finally became a man. I remember it well. What about the spiders?"

"If the spiders are here and you don't recognize them as djinn, that means there's a portal nearby—probably in this direction." Delphie poked a piece of mortar near the spiders' vent with her rock. "You turn into a big, strong monster and get rid of these pesky stones, I'll attract the portal close enough, and we'll fly out of here. The pixie portal might even lead to the same place as the permanent one. I do hope so. Alternate Southern Florida is nice this time of year. I know a deserted beach—"

"How?" Dash gritted out between clenched teeth.

"How what? How am I going to attract the portal?" Delphie was confused. He'd seen her do portals before. "First I get upset, and then I do my bibbity bobbity boo and all that jazz."

"How do you know about this deserted beach?" Dash took a few deep breaths. Blue sparkles of djinn power burned all along his limbs, and his hair curled like the tentacles of a living being.

"Jealous much?" Delphie kicked the masonry a few more times and beckoned to him to have at the wall. They didn't need to get through the wall itself...only remove enough magic-stifling stone that she could attract a portal through the hole.

"Why do we have to fly to use this portal?" Instead of an instant transformation like he'd managed when fighting the barghest, Dash continued to sparkle blue. His outline grew hazy. Perhaps the tower was sucking away his magic. Speaking of dampers, that would put one on her plan, all right.

"Because we're high up in a tower, silly." Delphie concentrated on her emotions. Her fears. Her panic. She wasn't an imp, but she was a pixie. She could do this.

Her emotions churning, she snapped at her husband. "Are you going to shift or not?"

"Just warning you...it may be a while before I can shift back." Finally his body morphed into a large, glowing blue griffon.

As Delphie worked herself up as only a pixie could, Dash's powerful claws swiped at the stone wall above the vent. A few more spiders scuttled away from the falling stones. Once he bashed through the first layer of rock—how thick were these walls, anyway?—he took a break.

"Not easy," he said, beak clattering. "The stone gets harder." The layer of granite behind the wall stones did look thicker. Had he removed enough of the dampener?

Delphie thought about asking Dash to chase her around the room and increase her panic, but that might be kind of hot. She needed to be agitated in a negative way. If she couldn't use this part of her pixie heritage, she was going to die. Dash was going to die. Stride and Aurora—who knew what would happen to them? Well, she didn't care that much, but she was a married woman who had never gotten to bed her sexy husband.

She was not...dying...horny!

Come on, portal. Feel my horror and dread. Come to me.

Like a popping soap bubble, the swirling sparks of a pixie portal took shape in the rubble Dash had made.

Thank Hera.

She held out a hand for Dash's claw. "Come along, husband. We can hop another portal and get back to the djinn dimension in plenty of time to break up that wedding. Right now, though, we have a hot date."

Drawing a deep breath, she dived through the portal with her wings already flapping. It wouldn't bring her out inside a rock or anything, but pixie portals, as opposed to ones that routed through the portal dimension, could be tricky as...

Chapter 8

Helllllllll!

A gust of wind and rain pushed Delphie sideways like she was nothing more than a fluff ball. Rain soaked her body and clothing instantly. Instantly!

She looked around frantically. Rain slashed her face. Lightning split the dark sky. Far below, the surf rumbled like ten thousand tanks.

Holy Naiad. She flapped madly, struggling to stay aloft. Water played havoc with pixie wing functionality.

Where was the sun? Where was the blue sky? Where was the idyllic, private beach and cabana to consummate her sixteenth marriage—to her first djinn?

Where was her husband?

"Dash!" she yelled. The wind caught her and spun her like a top. She began to fall....

Her back hit something warm, wet and glowing blue.

"Ooof," Dash exclaimed, his griffon beak adding a click to the end of the word. She bounced off him and struggled to right herself. She kept one hand on his soggy fur, using his powerful ballast to help herself stay airborne.

At least Dash's presence meant she could see a little. He glowed as blue as a party light bulb, just like when he'd fought the barghest.

"We have to land!" she shrieked over the storm. "I'll never sense a portal until I can concentrate."

Lightning blasted. It struck something nearby, and the sound knifed through her eardrums. She clapped her hands over her ears and tried to curl into a ball.

Not the smartest thing she'd ever done in midair. She dropped toward the ocean like a stone.

Dash was faster.

Right before she smacked into the huge waves, he arrowed beneath her and caught her on his outstretched wings. Again. Delphie scrambled for a grip on his rough, wet fur, sliding this way and that. He flapped vigorously, the waves splashing them more than the rain.

They skimmed the whitecaps, making for the shore. She hoped. For all she knew, they could be in the center of the ocean.

But that made no sense. If they were mid-ocean, the Magicus Arachnidus couldn't have gotten to the portal and the lightning wouldn't have anything to strike. There had to be land somewhere near here. Pixie portals weren't _that_ random.

"Hold on!" Dash screeched, griffon-shrill.

He changed the angle of his flight path in a sharp, ninety-degree turn right before they smashed into a rugged cliff face. He flapped with all his strength, cursing a literal blue streak. The wind gusted mightily against the cliff, and the raindrops seemed to double in size. Up, up, up he flew, like a helicopter.

Wow, her husband was agile.

Delphie flapped too, reducing his load, making sure to keep her wings out of his way. Together they ascended the cliff and landed on top before the wind could shove them out to sea or into the rock face.

The ground beneath them was broken, grass and scrub between the flat boulder tops. The original portal the spiders used had to be around here somewhere. Delphie held her hands above her eyes, squinting into the rain-lashed darkness. Dash's blue glow wasn't cutting it as a flashlight for more than a ten-foot radius.

Well, at least they could see enough not to walk off the bluff.

Weaving past large stones, they made their way along the rocky promenade away from the ocean. Both of them arched their wings to deflect some of the downpour. Delphie couldn't sense a permanent portal, though she did understand why the spiders had used it—to get away from the storm.

"I smell smoke," Dash said. His shoulder nudged her aside as he took the lead. "Stay back, it could be...."

A wide picnic shelter blazed with lights in the distance. The smoke Dash had smelled was puffing out a chimney at one end of it. It appeared to be, according to the neon sign...

**[The** [alternate ending by Meankitty **begins here. For the original story, ignore this note.]]**

According to the neon sign, the pavilion was "Vacancy."

"Vacancy?" Dash clacked into her ear.

Rain splattered Delphie's face so vigorously, the pavilion and its flickering neon sign looked like they was underwater. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Earth Two was an inverse dimension, where supernatural people lived in the open and humans were the ones who had to hide. Many supes retired here in their old age. It was the Florida of dimensions.

"Hotel?" she suggested.

"Who cares? It's dry. We can regroup." Dash's big, glowing bulk led her quickly through the rain toward the pavilion. Now that they'd escaped the prison tower and seemed about to escape the storm, her new husband had regained his determination.

Delphie just hoped he was determined to consummate their marriage before they concentrated on the marriage of another woman. After all, they were no longer imprisoned and due to be executed.

That merited a sexy, sexy celebration, didn't it? Escaping death and all?

As they approached the mysterious building, Delphie imagined a hot meal, hot baths, and a hot night ahead. This was probably an open-air addition to a luxurious hotel and resort. The location was well suited for it. If it weren't raining, it might even be scenic. Sheer bluffs, crashing sea, big waves... Earth Two wasn't just known for its supernatural snowbirds. It was known for luxurious supernatural vacation spots.

And apparently shifter prostitutes, which she had no use for. She was married to her very own shapeshifting djinn.

First she and Dash would rent the best suite in the house. Then they'd dine on something lavish, barbecued and slathered in butter. At last—she could picture this vividly—they would fall, passionately entwined, into a soft, silk-sheeted honeymoon bed and...

Delphie, envisioning her husband naked instead of watching her feet, stumbled and fell on the wet, uneven rocks, scraping her knees. "Blast!"

Dash hovered over her, extending his broad wing. It was so dark, she could barely see the concern on his blue, avian face. "Are you all right?"

"I slipped." She was too embarrassed to tell him she was dreaming about sex when he'd asked her so very many times to be serious.

After she rose, knees aching, they finished picking their way across the rough terrain and crossed into neatly manicured grass. Lightning split the sky and struck a nearby tree.

Yikes! One last run, and they reached the pavilion.

"Anybody here?" Delphie called. "Hello?"

Her only answer was Dash giving himself a vigorous shake. Griffon-scented water splattered Delphie in the face.

Watch what you're doing!" she said, smacking his leonine rump.

He glanced at her over his aqua blue shoulder, his round eagle eyes twinkling. "Not like you're gonna get any wetter."

Delphie contemplated a saucy reply, but at that moment, the storm picked up...like it was angry they'd escaped it. Which totally wasn't possible—elementals weren't allowed on Earth Two after the magma beach incident. Every supe who was any supe knew about that.

The rain pounded on the tin roof of the structure almost as loud as the thunder. Delphie had to yell just to hear herself think. Wind blew past them, making her shiver. A string of glittery bulbs cast a pink glow around the interior. Empty benches and bare wooden tables sat in orderly rows from one end of the long pavilion to the other. At the far end was a closed metal grate in front of what appeared to be a kitchen.

There wasn't another soul taking refuge under the pavilion but the two of them. Okay, there were a few souls—some Magicus Arachnidis clustered under a table in the center, waiting out the storm.

"I guess the vacancy part was accurate," Delphie bellowed to her husband. She rubbed her arms, trying to get warm.

Dash inspected the building, staying near the center aisle so rain wouldn't whip into him. Nope, just the chilly, howling wind. Delphie's wet feet splorched in wet boots, her clothing dripped on the floor with every step, and her wings were so soggy they wouldn't contract. Her beautiful pink hair hung in lank strands, sticking to her cheeks.

When they reached the counter, Delphie could see no lights on in the kitchen.

Dang it. She was cold, wet and hungry and this was supposed to be her honeymoon. Okay, so the wedding had been spontaneous and her husband was temporarily stuck in griffon shape, but still.

Honeymoon.

This was worse than wedding number eleven to the faun who'd taken her to... Well, she didn't even want to think about where that billy goat had taken her and what they'd done there. Once. He'd been her quickest divorce, too.

Delphie banged on the grate a few times and tried to roll it up. No dice. "Anybody back there? You've got customers!"

"No one here," Dash said. "In animal form, I'd smell them."

"I'm starving. I haven't had anything on my stomach since I got tipsy on djinn wine." Delphie checked the door beside the grate—also locked. If she couldn't have a proper honeymoon, could she at least have something to eat? "Open this up and let's see if they've got food back there. I'm sure they've got good insurance."

Obligingly, Dash reared onto his haunches. With a few well-placed swipes, her husband vandalized a security grate just so she could hunt for snacks. What a guy. The mangled grate bent inward enough for Delphie to hop onto the counter and slip through.

It wasn't as loud in here. The thicker walls of the kitchen area protected her from the storm's fury. It was also warmer. "You coming?"

Dash stuck his head through the hole. "I'm too big."

"Change back to your real shape," she suggested. She'd gotten what she needed from griffon Dash. Now she'd prefer sexy humanoid Dash with his hot bod and opposable thumbs—especially if he could cook.

Dash let out an irritated squawk. "I don't have enough magic yet."

"Then I'll eat without you." He was her husband now. He'd have to learn she got snappy when her blood sugar dropped. "There might even be bacon."

The kitchen had few modern conveniences. There was sure as heck no microwave. Hopefully she'd find something ready-to-eat. Fireplace, cabinets, stoves, shelves of herbs and dried staples, tall stacks of dishes, smooth, silver prep counter, and oh—the gleaming white door of a deep freeze.

Convenient. The supes of Earth Two didn't create their own technology, they just filched it from the prime dimension and powered it with magic.

She heard a loud crash as the metal grate caved in. Griffon Dash slithered through. "I don't smell bacon."

"What do you smell?" Delphie grabbed the single, wizened apple from a basket and ate it in a few bites. The three dried figs in the basket followed. Next she opened a jar of brown stuff and sniffed. Horrible! She tried another that looked like dried peppers. The scent of it sizzled her nose hairs. She sneezed.

"Something tantalizing." Dash lumbered past her toward the locked cabinets. His eagle head swung from side to side. His big body crashed a stack of mugs to the ground. "Oops."

Delphie tried sniffing the air, but all she could smell was hot peppers and wet griffon. Well, at least it was putting her off her feed a bit. She tried more jars and boxes. Dried beans. No use for those. Rice, also dry. Something that looked like...ugh, dried maggots.

Dried, dried, dried.

What kind of cookhouse was this? Were there no convenience foods anywhere?

"I have no idea what you smell that's tantalizing, because I'm striking out." She nibbled at the apple core until there was nothing left but seeds and stem. Avoiding anything brown, she selected a jar, full of a nice, herby green. Cautiously she opened it and sniffed.

It smelled like...grossness. Cat whiz.

"What's that?" Dash said.

"I don't think it's edible." She tossed the jar to the silver prep counter, and the herbs scattered across the surface.

Dash whipped around quicker than she thought a griffon could. Dishes hit the floor. Dang! If the owners of Vacancy didn't have insurance, she was going to have to dig deep into her emergency fund to pay them back for all this damage.

"Mrrrrr." He grumbled deep in his chest. "Mrrrrr."

It sounded almost like a purr.

Before she could figure it out, Dash lunged forward. Delphie gasped. He started rubbing his beak and feathered head across the silver prep counter, through the herbs spilled there.

And he was indeed purring.

His large body was too big to fit on the counter. Herbs scattered onto the floor. Dash knelt in them and started rolling, his beak clacking and his eyes half closed in some kind of feline slash griffon ecstasy.

"I'm glad somebody is having fun on our honeymoon," Delphie complained. Her eyes fell on a jar of syrupy liquid that looked bluish in the glow from Dash's body. She picked it up and inspected it.

Ooooh, honey!

Delphie opened it, almost as happy as Dash and his green herb. She swiped a fingerful. The blast of sweetness and calories was just the thing she needed to figure out their next move. With Dash in griffon form, their options were limited—especially if she couldn't talk him out of trying to stop that darn wedding tomorrow.

Dash continued to purr and writhe. It would be entertaining if she didn't need his opposable thumbs to cook her some rice and beans.

Suddenly, sparks began to shimmer up and down his form. Delphie sucked the honey on her finger and stared.

His griffon body fizzled and contracted with a bright blue flash. Suddenly her husband—in his real body—lounged on the floor of the kitchen.

In his real, very naked body.

"Catnip," he said, his voice a husky drawl. His heavy-lidded gaze started at Delphie's wet boots and inspected every inch of her until he reached her face. "It's magical. Powerful. It restores shifter energy. I feel excellent, wife. Most excellent."

Meanwhile, she let her own gaze trail down. Apparently catnip had an interesting effect on griffons. Or djinn. Or shapeshifting djinn griffons.

Sort of like pixie blood. Useful information indeed, if she wanted someone empowered and enhanced.

Delphie took her finger out of her mouth. "Honey?"

"Yes, darling?" As if he were still half cat, Dash rose from the ground, dusting herbs off his oh-so-fine, muscular body. He stalked toward her with definite intent in his eyes.

"Want some?" Delphie offered him a taste on the closest available utensil—her hand.

"I do, wife. I do." Slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, he licked the honey off her fingers one by one. When he sucked her forefinger into his mouth, she realized she wasn't all that hungry anymore.

For food.

With her other hand, Delphie painted honey on her lips. Dash sank his fingers into her wet hair and tilted her face toward his. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, the taste of honey dancing between them.

Delphie moaned when his hands sought her hips, grappling with her wet clothing. He made short work of her skirt, her shirt, her underthings... And when he lifted her up, she found herself on that wide, silver counter, legs spread, honey jar right beside her.

So that's why they called it a honeymoon!

Some hours later, Delphie led her husband, clad in a pair of chef's trousers they'd unearthed in a cabinet, to the deep freeze. Her knees were a bit wobbly after what he'd done to her—repeatedly—but she knew it was time to get serious. She was a happily married woman now, and if her husband's sort-of employer, Queen Aurora, didn't want to marry that putz Ainmire, didn't Aurora deserve to be happy too?

Especially considering Aurora was the person who'd sent Dash on his mission to find a cure for the djinn wish compulsion, resulting in his meeting Delphie, resulting in their adventures, resulting in their marriage, resulting in their...honeymoon.

Delphie figured she owed Aurora approximately six times over. So far.

Dash quirked a brow when she placed her hand on the silver handle of the walk-in freezer.

"I know I'm hot, but you don't need to cool me down that way," he said. "I can take a hint. You think it's time to return to the djinn dimension, don't you?"

"If I can't convince you to run away with me," Delphie said, "I suppose it is."

"You know I have to stop the wedding," Dash said regretfully. "Queen Aurora and Stride are counting on me. More hinges on this wedding than their safety."

"I'll let you in on a little pixie secret. There's almost always a portal in a walk-in freezer." Then she and her sex god of a husband departed from the Earth Two dimension, refreshed and ready to stop the wedding of Aurora and Ainmire.

Delphie couldn't tell from the outside if this portal would lead them to the djinn dimension, the portal dimension, or Gadleybazook. But it was worth a shot. She squeezed her eyes shut and tiptoed into the cold freezer, hoping the portal would land them soft and easy, preferably without a shock of lightning or being torn to pieces or in a pit with snakes. She _hated_ snakes. Deep breath.

And voilá!

### Chapter 9

One second she and Dash were standing in that deep freeze. The next, they were standing in, um...a blue forest-y type place?

"Delphie."

She held up her hand, halting the question she knew was coming from her husband. "I didn't say I knew where the portal went, just that it was a portal." Hands on her hips, she twirled around and examined the area. "If we can figure out where we are, maybe I can use my pixie powers to find another portal and—"

"We're in the Gormuaine Forest, outside Ainmire's castle." Dash pointed through the gnarled trees at the classic fairy-style castle—really, were the djinn copycats or what?—festooned with white, flapping flags. "You can see the wedding decorations from here. The white pennants mean the wedding hasn't happened yet."

"Then I did it," she concluded proudly. It made sense that a portal leading out of the djinn prison tower to Earth Two would be combined with a portal back into the djinn dimension. Sometimes they worked in pairs—like she and her husband.

Whooping with victory, Dash scooped her up, spun her around, and gave her a kiss before setting her back on her dainty feet. His eyes glinted with desire, but he made no move to further things. Party pooper. He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him. "Come on, my little pixie. We have a wedding to stop and a proper honeymoon of our own to enjoy."

She pulled back, freeing her hand. "Why the rush? Besides—" she flicked her wrist dismissively "—so what if they have the wedding? They can get a quickie annulment or a divorce, like normal people."

Dash shook his head. "It's complicated. They're royal, and djinn marriages are forever, or have you forgotten?"

She hadn't forgotten. She just didn't believe it. She stepped closer and fingered the top of his pants. She did want to help Aurora and Stride, but... "Surely we have a few minutes?"

A few minutes so she could get more information out of him. Dash had told her Aurora's secret wasn't his to share, but for crying out loud, they were one now. In every sense of the word. If she was going to help him stop a royal wedding and risk getting them killed—because no doubt Ainmire the Worst King Ever still hoped to execute them—she wanted to know why.

"Now, Delphie, er, what are you doing?" He grabbed her hand before it could do her naughty bidding. "Blazing barghest, woman, you're insatiable. Not that I'd be complaining under normal circumstances, but..."

She stretched up on her toes to give him a peck on the mouth, making sure she pressed herself against him in all the right places. "But what, dear?"

"But we, um..." He gripped her closer, distracted.

"Why is it so important to stop the wedding? We're married, dear husband. That makes us partners. I deserve to know, don't you think?" She sprinkled her words with a kiss or two along his jaw.

He grasped her shoulders and firmly moved her away. "Nice try, wife, but I'm afraid we don't have time. The ceremony could be starting right now."

Crossing her arms, Delphie stomped her foot. "I'm not moving from this spot until you answer my questions." She heaved a dramatic sigh and told a lilac lie, the kind that's mostly true but needs a bit of scent to spruce it up. "I've figured out a plan to stop the wedding, like this." She snapped her fingers. "But not until you tell me why I should."

Dash's brow furrowed as he shook his head. "This isn't a game, Delphie. Lives are at stake. An entire kingdom is at risk."

"You don't trust me. Your own wife." Delphie pretended to buff her fingernails, completely unmoved. Honestly, her new husband was beyond stubborn. Whatever was she going to do with him?

A frustrated groan erupted from his chest as he stalked closer. "Fine. Aurora is already married to a commoner. But the only way to end the wish feud between the two clans was for her to become betrothed to Ainmire. The clans voted, and she had to do her duty."

Seriously? That was the big secret? Delphie rolled her eyes. "If she's already married, she can't marry Ainmire. He'll have to get over it."

Or could she? Did djinns believe in polygamy? Did Dash? Cause she wasn't the sharing type. If he expected her to be, he had another think coming.

"It's not like that for the djinn." Dash ran a hand through his hair, glancing between her and the castle with the flying pennants. "If the ceremony takes place as planned, Ainmire—everyone—will find out about Aurora's secret marriage. It's likely she and her husband will be executed. Aurora's entire clan of innocent women and children will be bound in servitude to Ainmire for a year and a day. He'll wreak havoc on her kingdom and all the people in it...and he might not stop there."

"Why on earth would she be executed for such a thing?" Delphie scoffed.

Dash looked beyond annoyed. "Djinn royals can only marry with the approval of their clan. They're sworn to remain single for the good of their people in case a marriage can aid the clan as a whole, like putting an end to a disastrous wish feud. A clan can also dissolve a royal marriage after a minimum period of a year and a day, but that's not the case for a true djinn union like ours. Or Aurora and her true husband. An unsanctioned marriage like Aurora's, to a commoner, that cannot be broken? It's punishable by death."

Delphie whistled. Geez. Harsh.

"When the abbot tries to enact the clan union bond between Ainmire and Aurora, it won't take. If we don't stop the ceremony before Aurora is exposed, she and her husband will be killed and her kingdom will fall into that devil's control. I cannot allow that to happen."

She'd heard of some convoluted marriage and royalty customs among the supernatural dimensions, but rarely did the law extend to executing someone for marrying. The situation did seem serious. And urgent.

"Well, come on then, for Smurf's sake. What are you waiting for?" Grabbing his bicep, she dragged him along after her. They headed for the castle through the sunlight-dappled blue wood. All they needed was some nighttime barghests and other critters trying to chomp down on them.

As they trotted, Delphie mused. "It sounds to me like Ainmire might have planned this all along. If he knew Aurora had a secret marriage, he could have started the wish feud with this goal in mind."

"I don't believe he knew," Dash said, "or he'd have exposed her before now. Ainmire's always starting wish feuds. Are you sure you don't want me to carry you?"

That would place them at the castle too quickly, what with Dash's dashing ability. She needed more time to work out the details of this morass in her mind and the best way to un-morass it. She had, after all, claimed to be able to stop the wedding.

"So you say." Delphie remembered how Aurora's maid had turned on her during the kerfuffle yesterday. Had it only been yesterday? Dash had been suspicious too but had refused to discuss it. "I just have a few more questions."

"Let's hear them, wife."

She blew her hair out of her eyes as they jogged. "How did you break the wish compulsion?"

"I'm no longer pure djinn. I'm a djinn shifter, which altered my essence enough that the compulsion no longer affects me."

"That seems simple." The jog was getting to her, and she puffed between sentences. "You guys never figured this out before why?"

"Never left the dimension," he said. "It's not like being a shifter is all fun and games. There are sacrifices."

She could think of a few games she wanted to play with her sexy husband. Apparently the rumors of shifter appetites were true—and apparently her blood did affect him. But did that mean he didn't care for her, that all this was pixie lust?

"My...blood?" she panted.

"Delicious." The jog wasn't affecting his endurance at all. But then, neither had the sex. It boded well. "However, I know what you're about to say. I wanted you before I tasted you, wife. I don't regret our marriage."

"Good." Delphie's boobs started to bounce and she crossed an arm over them as they ran. "So how will curing the wish compulsion save Aurora? She's still..." _puff puff_ "...illicitly wed to a..." _puff_ "...commoner."

"She'll use it to bribe Ainmire to call off the wedding. If he can nullify the wish compulsion, he can leave the dimension and gain all the power he wants without executing Aurora and her husband and enslaving her people."

"I..." _puff puff_ "...think he's..." Delphie skidded to a halt, breathing so hard she couldn't talk. Wow, when you relied on fairy dust and wings to get you all the places you wanted to go, a pixie could really get out of shape.

Dash took pity on her and swept her up into his arms, tossing her onto his back. "Hold on, wife. We can't waste any more time. I'm going to run faster than I usually do by tying my shapeshifting magic to my speed ability."

"Can you..." _oof, oof_ "...do that?"

"Hope so." He grinned. "I don't know much about being a shifter yet. I was about to crash that frat party and access the portal in their attic so I could return here with what I hoped was the solution when you interrupted my plan. I don't know how much use I'd have been to Aurora invisible and cursed."

She tried to respond, but his jouncing knocked her words out of her.

Well, she wasn't getting any more answers if she was too winded to ask the questions. Delphie twined her fingers around his neck and pressed close to his back. Closing her eyes, she felt the wind whizzing past them as Dash began to glow blue and...dashed.

He really, really dashed.

A jolt and a bump brought them to a sudden halt. She heard his sharp intake of breath and opened her eyes.

Crap.

They were close to the castle, all right. In fact, they were standing right in front of Aurora, Ainmire and the abbot who'd performed Delphie and Dash's wedding. To the left was Stride, kitted out in bronze armor and holding a very large, hopefully ceremonial scimitar. Behind them were five hundred wildly dressed, cat-eyed, funky-haired djinn that Delphie didn't recognize at all.

Aurora, her nose red from weeping, screamed and dropped her bouquet. Her white dress, covered in tiny gems, glinted blue as the glow from Dash's shapeshifting power faded.

"Oh, thank Aladdin!" she cried.

Beside her, Ainmire's eyes bugged out with rage. He was a tall man with a face like someone who'd smelled something bad. In contrast to Aurora's crystalline white, he was dressed completely in snot green.

Well, that was unexpected.

"Hello, there," the old abbot said, standing on tiptoes to peer past Aurora, who was quite tall. There was no golden cord around the wrists of Aurora and Ainmire yet, which meant she and Dash were in time to stop the wedding. "Aren't you newlyweds supposed to be on a honeymoon?"

"Off with their heads!" Ainmire demanded, quite unoriginally.

Male soldiers, including Stride, moved forward to grapple with Dash. That left Delphie unattended. None of the djinn dudes would risk touching her and granting her any wishes.

Quick as a barghest, Delphie skipped forward, up the steps and straight for the evil king, hands outstretched.

"Oh, no, you don't." A lime-haired female blocked her access to the angry king. She was stealthy, agile and familiar. "Troublemaking pixie."

"Hey, I know you." There was no mistaking that hideous fluorescent hair. "You were Aurora's maid—and you're a spy."

"You're daft," the woman declared. She dodged right and left, the same as Delphie, preventing her from approaching the king. "I am loyal to my Queen Aurora."

"Seize the pixie!" Ainmire thudded his gaudy brass scepter on the ground. "Her life is also forfeit."

"No!" Dash bellowed. He sparkled blue for a moment...and nothing happened. Struggle as he might, he'd apparently used the last of his power to sprint to the palace. Beside him, scimitar at his brother's throat, Stride bowed his blond head in failure.

Well, rats. If Stride wasn't going to rebel, knowing the truth about Dash's mission, this was definitely a pickle.

Several female guards converged on Delphie, their brass armor gaily festooned with ribbons. Delphie fought dirty, but she was small and they were many. Within moments they pinned her.

"Why is my life forfeit?" Delphie demanded. "Or Dash's? I married him so his sentence would be lifted. Your own abbot performed the ceremony. You can't just make up new laws on the spot."

Could he? He was a king, but from what little Dash had shared about djinn hierarchy, it sounded like their laws were set in stone.

The large audience, which had been silent, began to shift and murmur. It was composed of female djinn on one side and male on the other, with a glowing blue line down the center. If Dash was right about Aurora's secret marriage and this wedding revealed it, Aurora and her husband, whoever he was, would be executed along with Delphie and Dash. Also, the Clan Aurora women would be slaves to Ainmire for a year and a day.

Since the males could compel wishes out of an entire clan of female djinn, that would give Clan Ainmire unlimited power. They could use it against other clans. They could use it off-world. While new compulsions didn't work off-world, preexisting compulsions did. Delphie was beginning to see why this situation—executions aside—was a dire suck fest.

"Ask your husband why you're both as good as dead," Ainmire said with a sneer. He strode forward, his chest puffed out like a pigeon. Her captors dragged her down several of the dais's steps so she had to crane her head to look up at the king. "For the second time, he molested my betrothed yesterday. He will have his hands cut off before his head for that."

"Whatever, Your Craziness." Delphie jerked at the women restraining her, and they gripped her tighter. "He didn't molest Aurora or even try to."

"I have it on good authority they touched one another." He glanced at the green-haired spy who'd fought Delphie, and she scowled.

Oh ho. Perhaps spy girl didn't like her job. Perhaps Ainmire was holding something over her poorly coifed head. Delphie could work with that.

"So what?" she told the king. "Djinn can't have friends?"

"Non-clan members of the opposite sex aren't allowed to touch royalty," Ainmire explained pompously. "It's automatically counted as molestation. Why am I surprised you don't know this or anything else about our ways? The main reason you and your treasonous husband are sentenced to death is because he didn't quench you, you filthy outlander. That is treachery beyond anything else."

"He quenched me, all right," Delphie said, sparing a wink for her furious, struggling husband. "Like, six times. Bet you can't quench anybody that good."

The king's skin turned an unattractive beet color with rage. "Ignorant wench."

"Seriously. I'm not even thirsty."

Ainmire, studying her with evil intent, steepled his fingers like some stereotypical prime-dimension movie villain. Delphie considered what Dash had told her about Ainmire—his dark, twisted imagination and his hatred for other fairy species in particular.

She really didn't want her wings torn off by rabid griffons.

"You think you can come into my world and steal our magic?" Ainmire ranted. The crowd murmured louder, in agreement. "You deserve death. You deserve worse than death. Pray that I execute you quickly."

Some guy in the audience shouted, "Yeah!"

The crowd grew restless—lots of shuffling and thumping. Oh, dear. Fighting the king and the soldiers was bad enough. She didn't want to fight five hundred djinn, too. "If it's all the same to you, I'm going to pray that you don't execute me at all."

"Shut up, you unquenched hussy," spat the king. "You and your traitor husband get no say."

It occurred to her she probably should have gotten the formal definition for this quenching stuff before now. Every time it had come up, nobody explained it. Quite frankly, nobody had had time to explain it.

They kept calling her an outlander—someone from outside their secret dimension. They really got their drawers in a tizzy over that. Xenophobia? Maybe. Or did their fear stem from the fact she could snag wishes from people, like she had Stride, while they couldn't snag wishes from her? That gave her a huge advantage.

It would give anyone from outside a huge advantage. Outlanders could barge in here and enslave the djinn. Hence this being a Very Secret Dimension whose residents were believed to be a myth. Quenching must be a way to prevent people from gaining wishes from djinn, rendering outlanders harmless.

It was almost understandable Fart Face wanted to execute her. She could do a lot of damage if she stole enough wishes.

That being said—no flippin' way.

Chapter 10

"I am quenched," she declared, putting her plan into motion. "You can't kill me or you're breaking your own laws."

The crowd, bloodthirsty at this point, watched the proceedings as if it were a special show, hosted just for them. Considering how speedy her wedding to Dash had been—I do, I do, and now you're wed—this might end up being the longest, most exciting wedding ceremony in the history of the djinn.

"Enjoy your last breaths, outlander. Don't waste them on lies." Ainmire turned his back on Delphie and addressed a horror-stricken Aurora. "My sweet betrothed, I must thank you for your part in giving me this wonderful wedding gift."

Aurora's skin blanched to the same white color as her wedding gown. "If we could talk in private for a moment, Ainmire, I could explain—"

"I love having choices," Ainmire said, interrupting her. "Do I execute people first? And if so, which traitor? Or do I marry my dear, beloved Aurora while they watch? Decisions, decisions."

Delphie kicked one of the guards holding her. The brass plating on the guard's shin prevented Delphie from doing any damage with her spike heels.

"I told you, I am quenched," she yelled. "And I can prove it."

She hoped. She only had a half-formed idea of what it meant.

"You think you can touch me to prove it?" Ainmire laughed. "I'm not a troglodyte. I'm not falling for that."

"No," Delphie said. "I'll touch Dash and prove it. I'm quenched, so he won't feel the tiniest bit of a wish compulsion." Ainmire wouldn't know, yet, that Dash possessed the secret to break the compulsion entirely. Aurora, without Dash here to prove it, wouldn't have told the king yet.

And now that Delphie had met Ainmire, she didn't think anybody should give him anything but a boot to the ass.

"Like that would work." Ainmire thrust at her with his knobby scepter. Replacement phallus much? "You and that traitor were bound with the golden cord in marriage. There are no wishes between you but those of the heart."

Oops. Delphie glanced frantically around the room for another idea, and her gaze locked with Stride's.

She had never seen such a sad, sorry-looking person in her life. All the misery in the world burdened that man. She would have almost felt sorry for him, if he hadn't been a tool this whole time. He clearly didn't want to kill his brother, her, or Aurora. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, the man looked like he'd rather be dead right now than where he was.

"If not Dash, I'll touch some other djinn. What about him?" She pointed at Stride. "He's hot."

Aurora pressed trembling hands to her mouth.

"No," she pleaded. "Don't touch him. Ainmire has more wish compulsions owed to him than you can get from Stride. He will outwish you if you attempt a duel, pixie."

"I won't be getting any wishes from Stride," Delphie said, fingers crossed for luck. "I'm not looking for a duel. I just want to prove I'm quenched."

"Ah," the king said. "That might work. Enforcer, I order you to touch her."

Stride, his expression pained, walked across the room and held out his hand. "Do your worst, pixie."

Delphie jerked her arms free of the female guards holding them. "I need these, thank you very much." She clasped Stride's broad hand in her own.

Nothing happened. No flash of blue, no compulsion, no nothing. Thank goodness her hunch had worked and he was still immune to her.

She raised herself onto her tiptoes and kissed her brother-in-law on the cheek. "Give this to your brother, would you?"

"Enough!" Ainmire bellowed. "Fine, I'm convinced. You have been quenched. But your husband is a traitor who molested my betrothed. He shall die."

Ainmire threw back his head and laughed. "Muahahahaha!"

Oh, good gravy.

"You sure you want to do that?" she asked the king when he'd finished posing for the cover of _Villains Weekly_. "Dash holds the secret to solving the wish compulsion entirely, and if you kill him, it dies with him."

The crowd started whispering amongst themselves so urgently, it sounded like the hiss of a giant cobra.

"Have any female djinn touch him," Delphie suggested. "He's not old enough to be immune to the wish compulsion."

With a flick of his scepter, Ainmire directed the green-haired spy to touch Dash. When she did, nothing happened. No compulsion.

Dash grinned.

Stride grinned.

Aurora's cheeks gained some much-needed color.

"How did you do this thing?" Ainmire asked, eyes wide. "I demand you tell me, or I will execute you both on the spot."

"With this magic herb." She wasn't about to tell Ainmire the truth. Delphie withdrew the bottle of catnip she'd been planning to give Dash on their honeymoon. Their second honeymoon. She shook most of the herb into her hand. "Watch what it does to him."

With the female guards following her step for step, Delphie crossed the room and sprinkled some empowering, enhancing catnip on her husband. Immediately, he began to sparkle with blue power. A tiny whirlwind erupted around him, and then POP!

He morphed into his magnificent griffon form—only four times the size she expected.

What a man!

The guards holding him scuttled away, terrified. Dash raised himself to his hind legs and roared, pawing the air. His golden wings flapped with mighty gusts. Ribbons, flowers and other wedding-type things scuttled through the air.

The audience screamed. Many rushed the exit. Basically, pure bedlam erupted.

Ainmire's scepter clattered to the ground from nerveless fingers. "Shapeshifting is not a skill I've gifted to my clan. This cannot be. What is the meaning of this?"

"When a djinn is transformed by this herb, grown only in the Earth Two dimension, he or she gains the power of, ah, telekinetic translocution...ah..." Delphie sought impressive enough words to lure Ainmire closer. "Anyamungus pyrographicamogorum."

Ainmire goggled at her. "What the what?"

"It means I'm an all-powerful genie," Dash bellowed. His beak clacked as he gnashed it. "The most powerful being in the entire dimensional stratosphere. I will rule you all! I cannot be stopped."

"Then why did you allow us to capture you so easily?" Ainmire scoffed. "You are a ridiculous liar. Is this some kind of prime dimension illusion?"

"No, it's real. He's really a shifter. And you're a creepy xenophobic shut-in who has no idea of the advances in the magical sciences we've been making on Earth Two," Delphie retorted. "Can't you see Dash doesn't want people to get hurt in the chaos? We only want to stop this wedding. I think you know why."

Ainmire's expression glinted with greed—and understanding. Oh, yes, he knew about Aurora's secret marriage. Delphie resisted the urge to fist pump, since that might reveal how excited she was that she was right. Boy, was she gonna rub that into Dash later! Along with some edible massage oil.

"If I have all the power in the universe, I won't need her paltry lady clan," Ainmire said, casting Aurora a slitty-eyed glare. "Tell me more."

"If I had fairy dust, I could show you. Let us all go free, and I'll give you the universal power instead of Dash. There can be only one, you know."

Ainmire snapped his fingers at one of the female guards. "You there. With your last wish, order Stride to fetch me some fairy dust."

"The good stuff," Delphie said. "None of that bottom-shelf White Sands crap."

The guard complied. Stride strode off, and within moments returned with a small wooden box.

"Madam Pixie." He presented it to her and bowed. "Your dust."

She mixed it with the last of the herbs and quirked an eyebrow at Ainmire. "Don't be so standoffish. I have to touch you to reassign Dash's power into you."

She put one hand on Dash, as if preparing for a transfer ritual, and held the other out to Ainmire. She wiggled her fingers in a classic c'mere gesture. It had to be Ainmire. She had to compel him alone.

Ainmire, almost as if he couldn't believe he was falling for this, touched her skin.

The wish compulsion flared blue between them, so bright it hurt her eyes. Apparently royals packed a wishy punch.

Ainmire fell to his knees. "Noooooooooooooooooooo!"

"Haha!" Delphie cackled. No "muahahas" for her—she wasn't the villain here. She was the hero. "You there. Stupid King Ainmire. I wish you'd get up and do a stupid dance."

Ainmire hopped to his feet and began cavorting. The rage on his face pleased Delphie to no end—and apparently a lot of other people, too. Lady guards hugged other lady guards. Male guards pounded each other on the back. What was left of the crowd, the intrepid ones more curious about the proceedings than they were scared of giant griffons, cheered and whistled.

And Aurora...hugged Stride? And kissed him?

What was up with that?

Dash sparkled back into his original form, complete with clothing.

"You wasted a wish on that?" he fussed.

"Oh, I've got two more." She began to clap her hands along with King Ainmire's horrible tarantella. "Kick those legs. One, two, three!"

The abbot came to Delphie's side, still holding the golden cord of marriage. "You must not let vengeance and meanness drive you, my child. Do what needs to be done with a modicum of cruelty."

"What about wee bit more cruelty?" she asked, her attention still on Ainmire. Every time he cavorted closer to one of the female guards, she backed away from him, laughing. Why he didn't attempt to out-wish Delphie, she didn't know. Maybe it had something to do with the fact he was compelled to obey her?

"Delphie," Dash whispered into her ear, his hand at her back and his voice a purr. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can finish our honeymoon."

Oh, right. She'd given him catnip. Yes, time to finish this.

"I wish you would tell us all," Delphie ordered King Ainmire, "how you installed an illegal, wish-compelled spy into Queen Aurora's staff long before the wish feud began."

"That is a serious accusation," the abbot said. "While wish compulsions to outlanders are merely a disgrace, any wishes owed between djinn must be registered on the Scroll of Silence. It keeps us in balance so that we can live our lives in security and secrecy. Surely Ainmire wouldn't..."

"I did," Ainmire snarled. "I have wish-compelled spies everywhere, and none of them are registered. I am going to take over the world. Muahahahaha!"

What was left of the crowd gasped. Ainmire opened his mouth, probably to tell everyone about Aurora's illicit wedding so she would be in deep doo-doo, too.

"I wish you'd shut up now," Delphie said quickly.

Ainmire did. As soon as he did...he bolted. Silently. But he bolted.

"I wish you'd come back and take it like a man!" Unfortunately telling him to shut up had been her last wish. Perhaps she shouldn't have used the first one to make him dance like a monkey. "Oops."

Dash blurred into Ainmire's path and stuck out one muscular arm. Ainmire bounced off it and to the ground, clotheslined.

"Fairy dust. Infinity bottle," he yelled at Delphie.

She ran forward, threw a whole honking handful of dust on Ainmire, and stuck out the catnip bottle. "Get in there," she said.

Since this wasn't White Sands dust, her desire and intent structured the magic correctly. Ainmire, a look of total horror on his fart-sniffing face, shrank smaller and smaller and smaller until he was suctioned into the bottle.

Delphie hoped he liked the smell of catnip, because he was going to be stuck inside this infinity bottle for a long, long time.

"Well done," the abbot said. "You have spared our new king from the necessity of beginning his reign with an ugly execution."

"New king?" Delphie asked. Wouldn't they need to have elections or something?

Stride, looking strangely noble, stepped to the edge of the dais. He must not mind giving Aurora his wishes—or perhaps he'd gotten hers. Either way, since Aurora was smiling too, it didn't seem to be a concern.

Well, Stride's brother and Aurora were friends. They had no reason to be hostile to each other.

"My people," Stride said grandly. "I hereby accept the position as your king and vow to guide you to harmony to the best of my ability."

"And to celebrate the coronation of your new king, I renounce Clan Ainmire's debt to Clan Aurora," Aurora added. "The perfidy of the previous ruler will not discolor your future. There will be no year and a day of service for inserting a wish-compelled spy into my household. You are all free."

"Why is he the king?" Delphie asked.

"A king or queen's head enforcer is the heir," the abbot explained.

"Congratulations on your coronation, King Ainmire." Aurora took Stride's hand. Wait, no, he was Ainmire now. Holy Dryad, these djinn naming conventions were hard to keep track of.

Hell, she was just gonna call him Stridemire.

"And there is still the matter of a royal engagement," the abbot said. "The clans agreed this diplomatic binding should take place, and that agreement stands. A change in rulership does not affect a clan pact that was already registered on the Scroll of Silence."

Stridemire and Aurora glanced at each other, and Aurora's cheeks turned pink.

"All right," she said.

Wait a minute. Delphie stared at Aurora and then Stridemire. If the abbot tried to marry them, the truth about Aurora's secret marriage to a commoner was going to come out. Her ass was going to be grass. Why would she agree to this royal wedding instead of asking for a celebratory annulment?

Dash slipped an arm around Delphie. "It's all right, wife. Why do you think I agreed to help Aurora in the first place? You'll see."

The crowd crept back to their seats and quieted. The royal hall was tattered and torn, but everyone looked much happier than when it had been the other Ainmire at the helm. Aurora and Stridemire stuck out their wrists, and the abbot placed the golden cord around them.

"We do," they said, before the abbot spoke.

"Eager to get to the honeymoon, are we?" The abbot chuckled "Then let it be so!" The abbot waved over the cord that bound their hands together. It glowed a bright blue—and then remained as solid as ever, on their wrists.

Delphie gaped. "When we got married, the cord disappeared into our skin."

"Hm." The abbot waved his hands above the cord again. "Let it be so."

The cord glowed blue...and did nothing.

The abbot cast a sharp eye over the couple standing before him. Their free hands were clasped between them. They'd kissed when Ainmire had been vanquished.

She could think of a very good reason why they might not be worried about wish compelling each other. They were already married. She wondered if Stridemire was going to confess his dalliance with a shifter while hunting for Dash to his wife or just his abbot.

"He had an assignation with Aurora on Earth Two," Dash whispered, reading her mind. "She nearly escaped, but the king found out she'd made a break for the outland and wish-compelled her own enforcer to drag her back. I was trying to get my stubborn brother to admit the truth by calling his wife a prostitute. But he wouldn't trust me." Dash tsked.

"You did all this for him?" She'd known Dash had a few noble bones in his body—hur, hur—but his great loyalty toward his family was commendable. That family now included her.

She was so proud of her husband, she could burst. It was a good thing she wasn't a phoenix.

"He'll figure it out eventually," Dash said with a chuckle. "I just hope he doesn't thank me by making me his enforcer."

"I gather the two of you are already wed," the abbot grumbled to Stridemire and Aurora. His body blocked the audience's view of their wrists. He deftly whipped the cord into his voluminous robes. "I'm disappointed. You got illicitly married and you didn't even ask me to do it. I'd be offended if I weren't so glad to see the back of that rascal Ainmire."

He raised their clasped hands over his head and turned to the crowd.

"May the cord that binds these souls never chafe, and may their love burn ever bright as the seven suns of Palafinia. Let their only wishes be those of the heart. I now pronounce you clan bound for a year and a day. Or longer, should the clans wish it."

A blue glow burst from the royal couple and out through the crowd like a sonic boom. They began to cheer, throwing hats and headdresses into the air. Someone threw a shirt. Then someone threw shoes, and a dress, and another shirt, and...

Delphie gaped as the djinn in the audience started ripping off their clothes and chasing each other around like satyrs. Giggles, cries and excited screams filled the air as Aurora and Stridemire watched their subjects with indulgent smiles.

Delphie liked an orgy as much as the next pixie—when she was single—but a djinn orgy seemed like it would have certain wish-compelling consequences.

"Don't look like that." Dash's hand dropped lower, to cup her rear. "The wedding of a royal couple gives the joining clans a temporary immunity. Wouldn't you jump the closest guy you saw if you'd been celibate for years?"

"No," Delphie said, leading her sexy new husband to a more private location. "As long as we're still married, I would only jump you."

"I hope you're still saying that in a year and a day," Dash teased.

Somehow Delphie suspected that she would. In fact, it wouldn't surprise her if she set the pixie dimensional record for longest, sexiest and maybe even happiest marriage ever.

~ The End ~

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About the Authors

Angela Campbell, who served as the Pixie Project Cover Magician as well as a Contributing Scribe, is an overachiever with a soft spot for men who dress funny. Superman, Charlie Chaplin, Dracula, Doctor Who, Elvis—those are her kind of heroes. Angela read her first romance novel at 16 and immediately attempted to write one, too. Many attempts (and a couple of decades) later, she published her first novel through Carina Press. A mild-mannered reporter with almost 15 years of experience as a general assignment reporter, features editor and graphic designer, Angela has also worked as a production assistant in TV and film. Learn more about her books at http://www.angelacampbellonline.com.

**Cindy Spencer Pape** firmly believes in happily-ever-after and brings that to her writing. She was determined to make sure Dash and Delphie ended up together! Award-winning author of 16 novels and more than 30 shorter works, Cindy lives in southeast Michigan with her husband, two sons and a houseful of pets. When not hard at work writing she can be found dressing up for steampunk parties and Renaissance fairs, or with her nose buried in a book. Visit her at http://www.cindyspencerpape.com

**Jax Garren** is descended from Valkyries and Vikings (part Swedish) but was raised in the Texas Hill Country. She graduated from The University of Texas with a degree in English and a minor in Latin. During her eight years in public education she was in a riot, broke up fights, had cops storm her class...and met the most amazing young people who taught her more about life and hope than she taught them about any school subject.

Jax believes in happily ever afters. She married her real life hero, a handsome engineer who is saving the world through clean energy technology. Her heroine is Marion Ravenwood from _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ , the perfect blend of tough and feminine. Find out more at <http://www.jaxgarren.com/>

**Janni Nell** grew up in a beachside suburb of Sydney, Australia, and then travelled overseas, working in the UK before returning to Sydney, where she now lives. She began writing in her late teens. She won prizes for short stories but her dream was to publish a novel. Carina Press fulfilled that dream when _Allegra Fairweather: Paranormal Investigator_ was published in June 2010. Janni has now concluded the Allegra Fairweather series with book five, _Night of the Dark Horse_.

When Janni isn't writing, you can find her line dancing, walking the dog or working in her vegetable garden. You can also find her at <http://janninell.com/>

**Jody Wallace** , who served as Pixie Project Taskmistress, author and content editor, grew up in the South in a very rural area. She went to school a long time and ended up with a Master's Degree in Creative Writing. Her resume includes college English instructor, technical documents editor, market analyst, web designer, and general, all-around pain in the butt. Ms. Wallace is published in contemporary romance, fantasy romance, and science fiction romance, as well as straight up fantasy without much romance. She has always lived with cats, and they have always been mean.

To discover other books by Ms. Wallace, visit her website at http://www.jodywallace.com. To discover meankitties, visit the cat's website at http://www.meankitty.com.

**Nicole Luiken** wrote her first book at age 13 and never stopped.

She is the author of eight published books for young adults, including _Violet Eyes_ and its sequel _Silver Eyes_ , _Frost_ , _Unlocking the Doors_ , _The Catalyst_ , _Escape to the Overworld_ , _Dreamfire_ and the sequel _Dreamline_. She also has an adult thriller, _Running on Instinct_ , under the name N.M. Luiken and a fantasy romance ebook, _Gate to Kandrith_.

Nicole lives with her family in Edmonton, AB. It is physically impossible for her to go more than three days in a row without writing. Find out more at <http://nicoleluiken.com/>

**PG Forte** inhabits a world only slightly less strange than the ones she creates. Filled with serendipity, coincidence, love at first sight and dreams come true...it also bears an uncanny resemblance to Berkeley, California.

She wrote her first serialized story when she was still in her teens. The sexy, ongoing adventure tales were very popular at her all-girls high school, where they helped to liven up otherwise dull classes. Even if her teachers didn't always think so.

Originally a Jersey Girl, PG currently resides on the extreme left coast with her husband, children and a random assortment of animal companions. Visit her online at http://www.PGForte.com

**Rebecca York** has loved making up stories full of adventure, romance, and suspense ever since she can remember. She is a _New York Times_ , _USA Today_ , and _Publishers Weekly_ best-selling and award-winning author. At last count she has published over 145 books and stories.

Rebecca and her husband travel frequently to research settings for novels and taste new dishes for cookbooks. Her many unique experiences are apt to end up in her books—like the time she encountered a coral snake in the Guatemalan jungle or took a flight in a hot air balloon. She and her husband currently live in Columbia, Maryland. They have two grown children and two grandsons. You can find out more at <http://rebeccayork.com/>

**RL Naquin** is an urban fantasy novelist and short story writer. She lives in a world slightly askew from the rest of us. She is an expert in monsters, urban legends, and mythological creatures. In her spare time, she ponders the care and feeding of cryptozoological creatures.

Originally from Northern California, Rachel has a tendency to move every few years. She has lived in seven different states and had a six-year stint in England. Currently, she's hiding in the Heartland, planning her next grand adventure. She has one heroic husband, two genius kids, three annoyed cats, and an imaginary dog named Waffles. She doesn't have time for a real dog. You can find her on the Web at http://www.rlnaquin.com/.

**Veronica Scott** , a 2013 SFR Galaxy Award winning author, writes science fiction set in the far future and paranormal romance set in Ancient Egypt. Both eras fascinate her and provide endless opportunities to lose herself in research (always a plus!). She started writing when she ran out of books to read. When not researching or tweeting or writing/revising/editing, Veronica has a day job in the government aerospace world.

Veronica is the author of the independently published science fiction romance _Wreck of the Nebula Dream_ and the Carina Press "Tales of the Egyptian Gods" series, which include _Priestess of the Nile_ and _Warrior of the Nile_. You can visit Veronica on her blog: http://veronicascott.wordpress.com/

A proud member of Here Be Magic, Veronica contributed to several of Delphie's adventurous encounters. She also blogs about writing and related topics at Word Whores and Paranormal Romantics.

### About Meankitty Publishing (MKP)

Meankitty Publishing is the self-publishing "arm" of author Jody Wallace. The other Here Be Magic authors agreed it would be funny for MKP to release this free novella. MKP is not taking submissions, and it is not a formal company. It is merely a label that amuses Ms. Wallace, the other Here Be Magic authors, and Meankitty very much. The list of all MKP releases and version information is at www.meankittypublishing.com.

Check Out This Alternate Ending

### by Meankitty, who can do whatever she wants

### since it's her publishing company.

_Note: This ending takes place in the middle of_ Chapter 8 _, when Delphie and Dash are transported out of the dungeon in the djinn dimension. At that point in the chapter, there is a note that says, "Alternate ending starts here."_

The sign said: MISS KITTY'S KITTY HEAVEN CATNIP PALACE. NO DOGS ALLOWED.

Delphie jumped up and down, squealing and clapping her hands. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!"

"What is it?" questioned her lunkish blue husband who had singularly bad taste in his chosen four-legger form.

"It's Miss Kitty's Kitty Heaven Catnip Palace!" Delphie shrieked. I mean, haven't you noticed this pixie two-legger does a lot of screaming and shrieking? All the time. It must be like living with a parrot.

"I can read the sign," Dash-the-stupid-griffon countered. Why he wanted to shift into a griffon instead of an actual lion made no sense, except for the wing thing, which he'd kind of needed, I suppose, due to sloppy writing and plot building on the part of my Typing Slave.

"That means we're on Earth Three, not Earth Two," Delphie said. She grabbed Dash by the feathers and started dragging him toward the shelter. "I never thought I'd see this place again. It's heaven for cats, where their souls live before and after they spend time in other dimensions."

Jody: Meankitty, I'm not so sure about your characterization here. It's not really consistent with previous sections. And slipping into direct address is not an authorial technique we've used in the story so far. We do deep third point of view with Delphie as the viewpoint character. Do you think you could tweak...

Meankitty: Shut up and get me a snack. You'll see. This is going to work out great.

Jody (dubious): Ohhhhhhhhkay.

"I'm starting to feel...weird." Dash hunkered down on the wet rocks as rain lashed past them like somebody spraying you with a squirt bottle just because you're on the table. He scratched at his feathered body parts with a hind foot. And scratched. And scratched. "So itchy."

"What are you doing?" Delphie tugged at her mate, anxious to enter Miss Kitty's Catnip Palace. Only two-leggers being rewarded for exceptional service to their feline masters were ever allowed to come to Earth Three for a brief time. Delphie had been brought here once, years ago, by a calico whom she had served faithfully for fifteen years, eschewing even husbands for that expanse of time.

It had not been easy on Delphie. She liked husbands.

"I'm scratchy," Dash said.

"Scratch later. Miss Kitty might be inside. I don't want to make her wait another minute."

Dash kept scratching away at the parts of him that were an offense to his lion body. Slowly, despite the downpour, he managed to scritch off most of his feathers, revealing, underneath, the rest of his mighty and gorgeous lion body. The wings could stay. Now all that was left was the idiotic-looking eagle head.

Because OMM (oh my meow), that is NOT going to cut it if he's supposed to be the hero of this story. Bird noggin? Bird brain? Really?

"Oh, you are looking much handsomer. Almost all feline now." Delphie stroked his strong, wet lion shoulders and mane. His blue glow was as pure as the eyes of a Siamese cat. "You said you didn't have enough magical power to change into another form. The effect of cat heaven must be guiding your righteous shapeshift instead of your magic."

"Chop off my head," Dash eagle-tweeted. "I can't bear it anymore. This is a terrible way to spend another second when I could be all cat."

"Well, if you insist." Delphie grabbed the large, stupid eagle head with its creepy round yellow eyeballs and tugged. Because I don't want to spend any more time describing this, the head came off with a hollow POP, and a magnificent aqua lion's countenance emerged. Delphie sighed because cat Dash was so beauteous and she forgot all about getting under the shelter because she lost track of time gazing at her husband.

Dash shook his fully feline shifter body and wondered why he'd EVER shapeshifted into a doglike creature back in the djinn dimension or a mutant lion bird. This felt so good. So right. He wanted to be a cat forever. And because he no longer had a bird brain, he was able to put two and two together.

He addressed his adoring wife. "If this is cat heaven, why is it raining? And why were the spiders that came from here so big? We must enter the pavilion and discover what is amiss."

"Yes, you are so right, dear husband." Delphie clung to his broad, sturdy shoulder as they trotted to the pavilion. "And if there is any way I could turn into a cat, too, this story might just be worth saving."

"I know what you mean," Dash agreed wholeheartedly. "I no longer give a toss about the earlier parts of this story and that execution thingie tomorrow. I only want to find out how we can help Miss Kitty and..."

Jody: Now, hold on a minute, Meankitty. You were given an outline. This was supposed to be the tender love scene between Delphie and Dash. A little intermission before they return to the djinn dimension to save the day. It said CLEARLY on the outline that...

Meankitty: The stupid outline.

Jody: It's not stupid. There are up to 18 people working on this story. We had to figure out a way to end it coherently!

Meankitty: It's not stupid because of that. It's stupid because there were no cats in it.

Jody: Not everything has to be about cats.

Meankitty: Sacrilege!

Jody: Love scene! Now!

Meankitty: God, no.

Jody: Get off the counter!

Meankitty: Make me.

Jody (gets out of recliner): You think I can't?

Meankitty (jumps off counter, meows, races under bed): Hahahaha! Now you can't reach me, stupid bulky human! I'm going to puke while I'm under here, too, and scratch holes in the fabric on the underside of your mattress.

Jody: Dammit.

Meankitty: Now, where was I?

Dash and Delphie finally entered the pavilion, thrilled to be out of the horrible rain. Underneath its shelter, a large white cat awaited them on a nicely cushioned couch.

"You are late," the cat said. "Did the two-legger slow you down?"

"I'm sorry." Delphie fell to her knees. "If only I had four legs and were a cat, we would have been on time. And this story would have been much better."

"Fret not, large one," the cat said. "Your ugly, stomping, hairless form might sadden your heart, but opposable thumbs on staff members such as yourself do have a purpose in life."

Jody: I think this story has been pretty good. UNTIL NOW.

Meankitty (snickering): If that were the case you'd have more than seven readers.

Jody: You're a little jerk. Come out from under that bed.

Meankitty: Puuuuurrrrrrrrrr, haha, can't get me, purrrrrrrrrr!

"I am honored that you think so." Delphie's pink hair dripped and her pink wings drooped. All thoughts of that icky two-legger kissing and homping stuff fled her mind as her true function filled her. "Tell me, great one, how may I serve?"

"I need the back of my neck scratched in this one place I can't reach."

"Me next," Dash said.

Delphie dutifully scritched the indicated spots until the white cat and Dash were satisfied. This took about five hours. In the meantime, in the djinn dimension, the evil king chopped off Stride's and Aurora's heads or something and nobody cared.

Jody: Come on, now. I'll give you that Earth Three can be a kitty heaven and Delphie and Dash have a brief interlude in it, but you have to tie up the loose ends in our story better than that!

Meankitty: What the hell? I tied them up. Whack, whack, boo hoo.

Jody (grabs an under-the-bed box and shoves it toward Meankitty): If you don't come out from under the bed, I'm getting a broom.

Meankitty (dodges the stupid box): Puuuuurrrrrrrrrr, haha, can't get me, purrrrrrrrrr!

After discovering her true purpose in life, Delphie decided to make it her new mission to help all cats find loyal staff members to serve their every need. Forget about vote fixing to save some local park full of bandersnoots. The only thing that mattered was cats!

~ The Better End. You're Welcome. ~

Jody (fumbles around under the bed with the broom): This is what you get, cat.

Meankitty: easily evades broom, runs out from under the bed, and hits "Post" on her awesome story.

