powder.” Then he craned his neck toward the roof, and over the top of the frames she could clearly see him raise an eyebrow. It looked like the ugly sunglasses were working.
“Wow, they really are little. Oh, but no pointy ears?”
“Shhh,” Emma warned him. “Don’t let them hear you say that. Or anything about their height. They have a Napoleon complex like you wouldn’t believe. Once Professor Vanderbilt was out grading me on my tracking techniques, and all he did was mention a Danny DeVito movie he’d watched and you should’ve seen all the bite marks he ended up with.”
“Got it. So what now?” he asked as he continued to write in the folder.
“I guess it’s time to join me in some ritual humiliation,” she said, just as another fairy flew in through the open door. As it got closer, it turned away from them and tugged at its tiny pants until they fell away to reveal a small white butt.
“Did that thing just moon me?” Curtis demanded as he readjusted the glasses as if checking to see if they were working correctly.
“Trust me, that’s the least of what they do,” Emma retorted as she flipped open her slaying bag and pulled out two packets of Skittles. She ripped both packets open and handed one to Curtis. “Now, the trick is to try and lure them over to the nonfiction section.”
“Nonfiction? Skittles?” Curtis ran a hand through his blond curls and frowned. “Did I mention that none of this makes sense?”
Emma sighed. “They’re all crazy about Skittles for some reason. I want them in the nonfiction because it’s not as busy there, and as for why they come here? It’s to read OK! Magazine as people flip through it. I guess they like their celebrity gossip. Now, if you’re finished with the twenty questions, maybe we can continue?”
It looked like Curtis was about to say something, but at that moment one of the fairies spotted the Skittles, and after it let out a piercing whistle, six of them swooped toward Emma and Curtis like a swarm of bees at a honey convention.
“This way,” she commanded as she quickly weaved her way through the tables toward the far end of the store. Behind her she could hear the sound of miniature angry voices.
“It’s not going to work, you know,” her “friend” from Saturday, Rupert, called out. “We’re going to get those Skittles and then we’re going to kick your sorry butts so bad that you’ll be screaming for mercy.”
“Yeah, and don’t try any explosions this time. You know, we really should report you to the Commission of Ethical Treatment of Mortal Enemies,” Trevor added, still wearing the green hoodie that was now charred around the hems from the explosion on Saturday.
“Do they always talk this much?” Curtis demanded as he swung his crutches in a two/two rhythm just behind her.
“More. In fact, they normally never shut up,” Emma replied over her shoulder as she swatted one of the girl fairies out of her hair and turned into the art and biography aisle. “Okay, so when I say ‘now,’ I want you to throw a few Skittles on the ground—though not the red ones—you so don’t want to see fairies after they’ve eaten red ones.”
“That’s right, buddy,” Rupert called out as another fairy, dressed in tiny overalls, lunged at Curtis’s arm and used its small (but very sharp) teeth to bite into his biceps. “Listen to what the useless slayer has to say, and no one will get hurt—too badly.”
“Hey,” Curtis protested as he shook his arm to get rid of the small fairy. It didn’t work, and the thing remained clamped onto his flesh. “Emma, this is ridiculous. I need to get it off me now.” As he spoke he thrust the candy deep into his pocket and instead pulled a slim-line laser gun from his slaying kit.
“No. Put that away and give them the Skittles,” she hissed. However, Curtis—who up until this point had been showing signs of sanity—didn’t seem to hear her as he pointed the laser in the
“Wow, they really are little. Oh, but no pointy ears?”
“Shhh,” Emma warned him. “Don’t let them hear you say that. Or anything about their height. They have a Napoleon complex like you wouldn’t believe. Once Professor Vanderbilt was out grading me on my tracking techniques, and all he did was mention a Danny DeVito movie he’d watched and you should’ve seen all the bite marks he ended up with.”
“Got it. So what now?” he asked as he continued to write in the folder.
“I guess it’s time to join me in some ritual humiliation,” she said, just as another fairy flew in through the open door. As it got closer, it turned away from them and tugged at its tiny pants until they fell away to reveal a small white butt.
“Did that thing just moon me?” Curtis demanded as he readjusted the glasses as if checking to see if they were working correctly.
“Trust me, that’s the least of what they do,” Emma retorted as she flipped open her slaying bag and pulled out two packets of Skittles. She ripped both packets open and handed one to Curtis. “Now, the trick is to try and lure them over to the nonfiction section.”
“Nonfiction? Skittles?” Curtis ran a hand through his blond curls and frowned. “Did I mention that none of this makes sense?”
Emma sighed. “They’re all crazy about Skittles for some reason. I want them in the nonfiction because it’s not as busy there, and as for why they come here? It’s to read OK! Magazine as people flip through it. I guess they like their celebrity gossip. Now, if you’re finished with the twenty questions, maybe we can continue?”
It looked like Curtis was about to say something, but at that moment one of the fairies spotted the Skittles, and after it let out a piercing whistle, six of them swooped toward Emma and Curtis like a swarm of bees at a honey convention.
“This way,” she commanded as she quickly weaved her way through the tables toward the far end of the store. Behind her she could hear the sound of miniature angry voices.
“It’s not going to work, you know,” her “friend” from Saturday, Rupert, called out. “We’re going to get those Skittles and then we’re going to kick your sorry butts so bad that you’ll be screaming for mercy.”
“Yeah, and don’t try any explosions this time. You know, we really should report you to the Commission of Ethical Treatment of Mortal Enemies,” Trevor added, still wearing the green hoodie that was now charred around the hems from the explosion on Saturday.
“Do they always talk this much?” Curtis demanded as he swung his crutches in a two/two rhythm just behind her.
“More. In fact, they normally never shut up,” Emma replied over her shoulder as she swatted one of the girl fairies out of her hair and turned into the art and biography aisle. “Okay, so when I say ‘now,’ I want you to throw a few Skittles on the ground—though not the red ones—you so don’t want to see fairies after they’ve eaten red ones.”
“That’s right, buddy,” Rupert called out as another fairy, dressed in tiny overalls, lunged at Curtis’s arm and used its small (but very sharp) teeth to bite into his biceps. “Listen to what the useless slayer has to say, and no one will get hurt—too badly.”
“Hey,” Curtis protested as he shook his arm to get rid of the small fairy. It didn’t work, and the thing remained clamped onto his flesh. “Emma, this is ridiculous. I need to get it off me now.” As he spoke he thrust the candy deep into his pocket and instead pulled a slim-line laser gun from his slaying kit.
“No. Put that away and give them the Skittles,” she hissed. However, Curtis—who up until this point had been showing signs of sanity—didn’t seem to hear her as he pointed the laser in the
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