Peat
Holy shit, this place is nuts.Peat struggled to keep his wits about him as he stepped into the inner sanctum of the most dangerous vampire nest in the world. It was difficult not to look around. Ornate was too tame a word. Peat was positive there was something priceless from every century for at least the last ten, and he’d barely stepped into the foyer. Glancing down, Peat cringed when he saw the dirty tracks his feet left on the otherwise pristine marble floor.
“Sorry, I… Do you have a towel or something? I didn’t mean to track dirt into your home.” Peat swallowed hard, his heart thumping loudly and his blood zipping through his veins. Was that bad? Would it tempt the vampires further? He had no idea, and that thought only increased his fear. Peat knew this was a bad idea. But desperate times and all that.
“Do not concern yourself.” The vampire who’d introduced himself as Cassius answered. “Dirt is easily eliminated.”
“Thanks. That’s very kind of you, but I really don’t mind.” If Peat had typical pixie wings, he could have flown in and avoided getting mud on his feet, let along tracking it into the house. Peat’s bare feet and toes were once more covered in grime.
“Cassius is correct,” a new, musically lilting voice said, instantly catching Peat’s attention and making his breath catch. “Dirt is hardly a concern to those who’ve spent endless days buried beneath and cradled within its protective embrace.”
“That’s…” Peat’s words died in his throat. This vampire was…different. Old. Really, really old. Peat wasn’t sure how he knew, but regardless, he felt it down to the core of his soul. The vampire was small, barely taller than himself. His skin was nearly translucent, veins and arteries clearly mapped out beneath. Hair nearly as pale as his skin, the vampire’s lack of color set off his crimson robes and eyes.
“Shit.” Peat took two steps back. Crimson eyes and vampires were a bad sign. Vamps had onyx eyes—black as night and dark as coal. They bled crimson when they were on the verge of transformation, when they were ready to attack or feed.
Back slamming into the closed door, Peat’s hand desperately searched behind him for the handle. Logically, there was no way he could outrun a fledgling vampire, let alone someone as aged as this one. But instinct was a damnable thing and Peat’s screamed, “RUN!”
“Please, be at ease. I promise no harm will come to you within these walls or this land. You have my word as king of this nest and master of the Vampire Council.”
Peat’s vision swam. He shouldn’t find this vampire’s voice so reassuring. Was the vamp using his abilities on him? Was he in Peat’s brain?
“Are you fucking with my head?” Peat bluntly asked. Peat heard a couple of hisses that sounded as if they came from an adjacent room. The vampires he was immediately surrounded by didn’t so much as flinch.
“No. Though, I suppose if you believe I am, as you so quaintly said, ‘fucking with your head,’ I would hardly expect you to believe me.” The vampire grinned, exposing the largest fangs Peat had ever seen. “I am Nirgal. And you are?”
Peat licked his suddenly dry lips as he attempted to cobble together what was left of his courage and pride. “Peat,” he answered, proud his voice barely cracked.
“Pete?” a female vampire questioned. “I was led to believe that pixies were typically named after nature. Plants in particular.”
“Different spelling.” Cringing, Peat answered, “My full name is Peat Moss.”
“Ah,” she answered while Nirgal said, “A lovely name.” That was hardly true. His mother hadn’t been kind when naming him. His mother was a social pixie and she, more than anyone, was the most disappointed in his disfigured wings. In truth, Peat hadn’t spoken with his mother since he left the house at the tender age of nineteen.
Peat’s minuscule wings fluttered, scattering magenta dust into the air. He started to apologize but reeled it back in when no one sneezed. Peat supposed that would be one possible perk of the job. Vamps didn’t need to breathe, so his dust wouldn’t bother them.
Peat couldn’t look away from the sheer joy etched across Nirgal’s features. Nirgal’s laughter sounded rough, as if it were rarely used. Cassius and the female vampire’s reactions reiterated this feeling.
“Amazing.” Nirgal held his hands out, palms up. Peat’s dust hit those translucent palms and faded into nothing. It was such a childlike reaction that Peat couldn’t help but feel his fears slip away. Not that he wasn’t still cautious. Just…this wasn’t something he’d expected.
The female vampire wasn’t nearly as enthralled and leaned around Peat’s body. Her eyebrows barely twitched when she caught sight of what passed for his wings.
“Is that typical?” she asked. “Cassius, did you see hiswings?” The way she said it made her opinion clear.
Peat cleared his throat, his wings beating faster with his nerves. While he always hated this part, it was best to get it out of the way. If they had a problem with the way he looked, then the remainder of the interview was pointless.
“My wings have been deformed since birth,” Peat answered with absolutely no fanfare.
The female vampire pulled back, a barely there frown pulling her lips. “Sir, I am uncertain this pixie is capable of doing what is required. He appears to be defective.”
Raw anger and pain sang through Peat’s soul. “I am notdefective.” That term implied there was somethingwrong,and that wasn’t the case. Peat might have a wing disability, but it didn’t affect his ability to do his job. Peat was a damn good home-and-hearth pixie, and he wouldn’t be wing shamed into thinking less of himself.
“Silence, Gashan,” Nirgal ordered. The light cadence of his earlier tone was long gone. In its place was frigid coldness.
While Peat shivered, the female vampire he now knew as Gashan went statue still. “Forgive me, sir. I only meant—”
“What you meant is not important. What you implied is,” Nirgal scolded. “Apologize.”
Gashan’s expression was unreadable as she said, “Apologies, Peat. It was not my intent to offend.”
