“Just a minute!” I shouted, slightly frustrated Finley was early.
It’d taken me nearly thirty minutes to tame the lion’s mane I acquired during my nap. Everything else was all set, just needed my earrings.
“Shit!” My hands rummaged over the dresser, retracing the exact place I last saw them. “Where the hell are they?”
Then it hit me. I whipped my head around to the Brownie hidey-hole. The den of pesky thieves.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I stomped to the other side of the room and knelt down.
Sweat started to bead at my brow, half from the gown’s weight, half from sheer aggravation. I felt around inside and . . .nothing.
Another heavy thud sounded from the front door.
“Sorry, almost ready!” I yelled again, flustered. “Just one more minute!”
A sudden burst of light filled the room, a plump Cherub appeared and sprawled out on my bed. Ginger locks swept across his face as he bit into a bulbous plum, juice dripping onto my comforter.
I closed my eyes. Then inhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Pudge.” I shot him a warning glare. “This isnotthe time!” His sudden appearance usually meant it was mischief-making hour.
He gave an innocent pout, then casually tossed the plum across the room. It landed with a gushy thud. Pudge raised an eyebrow, as if asking,what’s the problem, babe?
I pointed to the hole accusingly. “Those little Brownie demons stole my earrings . . .again!”
Pudge sat up, ruffling his white tunic that had rose-gold embroidery across the belt. A deep, rumbling chuckle bubbledout of his mouth. He fluttered down to the Brownie entrance. Then, in one smooth movement, he spun around and squatted. The back of his tunic lifted as he backed up, waggling his butt like he was about to serve justice.
My eyes went wide.
No. Oh my fucking god . . .
He couldn’t. No, really. He couldn’t be serious! He’d done demented things before, but this—shitting in the Brownie hole—would be a whole new level ofwhat the actual fuck!
We’d be number one on the Brownie’s shit list. They’d probably wreck our plumbing or launch a full-scale war like angry mosquitos seeking vengeance.
“No! Pudge—don’t!” I reached forward to pull him away when?—
The most revolting, floor-rumbling, cheek-flapping fart echoed through the room. I swear I heard the windowpanes vibrate.
Fucking. Hell.How could a rump so tiny and small, bellow such a thunderous bum-symphony?
Pudge snickered like an unhinged goblin. He readjusted his clothes, then flew back to the bed.
“Do you realize what you’ve just done?” I yelled, gesturing to the crime scene. “You’ve declared war on us! They’ll destroy our wards, our belongings, our house?—”
I stopped, mid-scolding.
A slow buzzing sounded. Soft. Constant. But steadily, it got louder and louder, growing closer. The walls started to hum, becoming intense enough I thought they’d crumble down.
I bunched the silky gown and shot to my feet. Pudge was completely unbothered, splayed across the bed like a cat bathing in the sun.
The droning crescendoed until dozens of Brownies eruptedfrom the hole in a frenzied cloud—irate wasps fighting fumigation. Furious wings flapped in rhythm.
Oh, they werelivid. This was very, very bad.
My hair stood on end. The air felt like it was statically charging.
The Brownies grouped together in one massive, foreboding shadow. Flashes of electric energy surged around them, their sights honed on me.
