And when the apple was all done, Bruce did an experiment. He was supposed to be more of whatever he focused on. He tightened his fist and brought it down on the dirt right next to Cheesy, all the while thinking about how his strength needed to bemore.
It was. He smashed into the dirt as if he’d used Thor’s hammer. Cheesy and the other cheeses didn’t even blink, but everyone else did. And Bruce knew that it had worked.
That meant it was time for the yucky part. And it really sucked, because he still had that glorious taste of apple in his mouth. Fuck, he really didn’t want to do this.
“Okay,” he said to Cheesy. “Come on. Let me eat you.”
Everyone else looked disgusted, but no more than Bruce felt. It was Cheesy who brushed a lumpy bit of feta off his arm and said pompously, “That is not dignified for a Grand Cheesy.”
Bruce gaped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“If you wish to transfer magic to me, you can simply touch me.”
Really? Well, thank God, because he didn’t want to eat the guy anyway. Especially if it would save him a five-minute fart. So he took a deep breath and focused on givingmoreto Cheesy. More magic, more size, more whatever it was that had made Brie into a six-foot-tall walking nightmare. And he prayed with everything he had that this would work.
It didn’t. At first.
There were long agonizing seconds when nothing seemed to change. But then the Grand Cheesy began to swell. Just like Brie, he started out the size of a finger, then quickly expanded. Hand-sized, kid-sized, five foot… five-foot-six….
Bruce stopped.
It was childish of him. He was pretty sure he could have gotten Cheesy up to the same size as Brie. But he was pissed, and he’d only promisedbigger, notas big as. So there. He’d done as he promised. And though Cheesy looked at him and demanded, “More! Bigger!” Bruce flipped his middle finger at him.
“That’s all you get. Now release them.”
Cheesy looked like he wanted to argue, so Bruce pushed it.
“I did as I promised. You are bigger. Now release them”—he gestured to Nero, Bing, and Yordan—“or I claim you as my slave for the rest of your life.” Not a bad choice, given that the fairy was immortal.
Cheesy grimaced and flicked tiny pieces of feta off his body at each of the men. One by one, they stopped speaking and dropped in exhaustion as they breathed in heavy gasps of relief.
Then the large fairy turned to the others and stomped his fetid foot. “I am the Grand Cheesy!” he bellowed.
Bilious Brie stopped spinning, and the other cheeses stopped as well. In fact, all the little cheeses seemed to hover in place, their gazes going back and forth between the two oversize fairies. Apparently they couldn’t decide whom to follow, especially as Brie held up his hands and bellowed, “Whee!” But it wasn’t in a joyful way. It was more like a challenge.
Cheesy answered with his own raised hands. “Grand Cheesy!”
Bruce swallowed, seeing what was coming. “We need to get out of here before they start wrestling.”
Nero nodded. “Copy that.” He grabbed Josh, and they hauled each other to their feet. Bruce did the same with Laddin while Bing and Yordan echoed their movements. Then Nero snapped, “Haul ass.”
They did. They didn’t slow until they were halfway home and the alternating “Whee!” and “Grand Cheesy!” argument had faded. By the time they made it to the barn, everyone was gasping for breath. But they’d made it safely, which was a big win in Bruce’s book.
Every fire you walk away from was a win. That was in the firefighter’s manual. Problem was, these guys weren’t firefighters. So while Bruce was still thanking God they were all alive, Nero grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him against the barn wall.
“And now, Mr. Apple, we’re going to have a little chat.”
Great. It was just an hour past dawn, and this day kept getting better and better… not.
Chapter 16
THE MIRACLE OF A HOT SHOWER
LADDIN FELTcompletely useless. He’d run back to the house as if Satan himself was chasing him, and in Laddin’s mind, that wasn’t far off. He couldn’t shake the horror of speaking compulsively, unable to stop, unable to drink or swallow, just rasp out word after word of nonsense. He’d tried everything, but he’d lost control of the one thing he’d thought was wholly his own: his voice.
He still couldn’t believe what he’d said. He’d given a master class on demolitions, and who the hell knew what the pixies would do with that, or if they even cared? But that made it even worse, because he didn’t think the magical creatures needed an education on blowing things up. What they’d done to him was out of simple spite. And that filled him with a sick nausea he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to shake. Right now his thoughts and his body felt like stone—inert things that no longer functioned. It was as if he had died back at the tree but was somehow still moving and breathing.
And in the midst of that, Nero had shoved the man who had saved them against the barn wall and demanded to have “a little chat.” Then he’d dragged Bruce into the house, threw him into a chair, and was now grilling him as if Nero were Jack Ryan and Bruce the key to a terrorist plot. It was awful, and everyone else let it happen.
