Read Online Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body by Michele Bardsley - Free Book Online

one.”
    “Oh.” I began to see why Spriggan was so repulsed by Zerina. What if she was made up of the essences of his friends and family?
    “If you think about it,” she mused, “no one can be killed, not really. We all just . . . change form.”
    My thoughts were inexplicably drawn to the death of my husband. I shuddered to think what his essence changed into—nothing good, I was sure. Evil perpetuated evil.
    “You need to call in the Mod Squad,” said Zerina as she popped to her feet. “They’re gonna want to know about your pixie problem.”
    “Yeah,” I said. Gah. Nothing like presenting another issue to a pregnant, crabby, lycanthrope-vampire queen to make a girl’s oh-so-fun day even better. “You got any hints about the care and feeding of pixies?”
    “Hide your jewelry, because they like shiny objects, especially anything silver or gold. They eat honey and like to sip on morning dew drops.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “Unfortunately,” she responded. “Pixies are fantastic gardeners, if you like that sort of thing. Also, if you show them any kindness, they have to repay it. And that little spot of joy is all yours till he saves your life. Pixie traps are nasty magic. He was probably dying when you plucked him from the post.”
    “Terrific.”
    “No good deed goes unpunished.” Zerina chuckled. “Even though he’s bound to you, you can only really boss him around if you know his true name. And he owes you a wish.”
    “What? Like a genie?”
    “No. Like a fairy. Well, like a pixie. Magic has rules,” she said, reiterating what Spriggan had already told me. “And pixies are pure magic. Sunshine of the gods. And pains in the asses for the rest of creation. All the same, he owes you a wish. You caught him.”
    “How many do I get?”
    “One per customer,” said Zerina.
    I nodded. “Right. Because magic has rules.”
    “And I have a sense of self-preservation,” she said. “The last time I saw Patsy, she was threatening to rip off the tail of the next lycanthrope who asked if she needed any help. Especially any who suggested a wheelbarrow might be in order for transporting her.”
    I laughed, then slapped my hand over my mouth, slightly ashamed. “Whoever said that to Patsy must be suicidal.”
    “Drake always was a risk taker.” She grinned, then waved to me. She disappeared into a poof of pink sparkles.
    I unhooked my cell phone and started dialing.
    I just loooooooved meetings with bureaucratic big-wigs. No, really. Ten people staring at me, then at the pixie, then at the damaged post, then at me (shampoo, rinse, repeat) . . . woo-hoo. Fun on a bun. Patsy, Gabriel, Damian, Doc Michaels, Jessica, Patrick, Eva, Lorcan, Brady, and our just-visiting-from-Russia Consortium Chairman Ivan Taganov stood in my garage. I mentioned the ping-pong staring part, right?
    The only nice thing about the whole shindig: Brady stood so close to me that I felt the heat emanating from his body. I also heard the strong beat of his heart. He smelled earthy, the tang of sweat mixing with his scrumptious male scent. And beneath it all, with it all, the ferruginous succulence of his blood.
    “Simone?” asked Patsy.
    I shook off my thoughts (since when had I started thinking of Brady as a snack?) and turned toward Patsy.
    “Let me get this all straight.” She rubbed her belly, looking really tired for an immortal being with über- power. “You found a pixie. You rescued him, and he said he’s yours until he saves your life. Then you called Zerina—God help us—and her big contribution was to tell you he’s a dude.”
    “And he’s the only one anyone’s seen in a hundred years,” added Gabriel.
    I held up the red string. “And he was in a pixie trap.”
    Everyone’s gaze turned to the string. I hadn’t felt it pertinent to mention the whole made-from-pixies confession. Gabriel probably knew, anyway, but it was Zerina’s story to tell.
    “I’ve done a lot of research about the sidhe. If I