Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,20

my legs are.” They hated pop music with a passion, screeching every time I cycled through the latest charts and trashing my room until I made it stop. They’d even gone so far as to launch an assault on my speakers a month ago while I was in the shower. Naomi had fixed them up for me, with limited questions as to how they’d gotten so wrecked in the first place, but I’d learned a valuable lesson—pixies despised modern music, but they were suckers for a folk tune. If I needed a break while they were in my care, I put on the Internet’s finest “Celtic Folk Jams” playlist and let them go to town, jigging away to their heart’s content.

Cynane grabbed a pencil and hurled it at my chest like a spear, while Spartacus lobbed his teaspoon at me. Boudicca flicked me on the nose and chattered furiously, making violent retching noises in between bursts of rage.

“Then I don’t want to hear so much as one snort,” I warned. Fitness was the one aspect of my life that I’d never taken seriously, despite knowing its benefits. But if toughening up and finally bolstering my endurance brought me closer to flooring Marcel, then I had to start. I mean, who knew, maybe a bit of cardio would help with my Purges, too. Being in better shape might help me recover more quickly, no matter the size or power level of my creations.

Boudicca clamped her lips shut and drew her fingertips across like a zipper. Glancing back at Cynane and Spartacus, she reopened the zipper before hitting them with a tirade of shrieks and barks, which I guessed meant she was relaying the instruction. I had to laugh—my life had certainly been more colorful since these little beasties had come along.

Exhaling deeply, I took my sneakers and exercise gear into the bathroom to change. I’d learned another valuable lesson early on, which was that it was never a good idea to change in front of the pixies. On one occasion, Cynane had done a mime piece involving two satsuma mandarins that would be forever seared into my brain.

Heading back out, I pulled up the hood of my sweater, already trying to think up an excuse to avoid the evening jog. No… no excuses. I have to do this. If Genie’s running tales were to be believed, it would be life-altering.

“I won’t be gone long, so don’t wreck anything,” I said to the pixies, resigned. “I’d take you with me, but you’ll be safer here.” They still wore their yellow tagging rings and, while I’d become an expert at removing them for previous excursions, it didn’t seem like a smart idea to take the pixies out in the dark. They glowed, for one thing, which might draw unwanted attention.

Before I even reached the door, the pixies had rocketed through the air and divebombed me, forcing me to duck and cover my head with my arms. Clearly, they didn’t approve of the idea of being left in my stuffy room while I enjoyed the fresh air. Cynane had wrapped herself around the door handle, gnashing her sharp teeth, so I knew I’d get a nasty bite if I even tried to grab it; Boudicca pressed herself flat to the jamb and puffed up her lungs, letting me know she was ready to scream the place down if I resisted; Spartacus hovered in front of my face with a paintbrush poised at my forehead, bright green paint dripping down to the hardwood floor.

“It’s not personal!” I protested. “If I take you guys out there, it’ll be like carrying three rainbow lanterns. And you’ve got those rings on, which I’ll have to take off first. I’m trying to keep us all low profile.”

Spartacus brought the paintbrush closer, and Boudicca looked as if she was about to burst from inhaling so much. Reluctantly, she released her breath and fluttered down to my head, bending over so I had to look at her upside down. She gave me a sharp rap on the noggin with her clenched fist before unleashing a twittering torrent of pixie-speak that definitely wasn’t polite. I’d developed an ear for their language in the last six months, and they were major fans of the expletive.

Boudicca dropped down to hover in front of my face and pointed to her cuttlefish spots, which were an irritated shade of vermilion.

“I understand what you’re saying, but those lights come on as soon as the sun goes down.