Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,9

more herbs. Most of the town believed we filled our workroom with bat wings and eye of newt or cyclops’ eyelashes. But we didn’t store those here. We locked them up in the cellar.

I passed through the workroom, opened the back door, and stepped into the lean-to that was Rhea’s forge, where she practiced in alchemy and metallurgy. The fire had been cold for some days, and there were scraps of metal lying about. She must be in between projects right now. I thought back to the traveling bracelet she made and knew that one day Rhea would be famous through the known kingdoms for her magical artifacts.

I headed toward the stable, slowing down to scatter feed for the chickens. Seven scraggly hens came running toward me, squawking in greedy glee. The dried corn fell from my fingers, and before it hit the ground, a pixie swung past and stole a few kernels mid-air.

The androgenous pixie, no bigger than a monarch butterfly, with green hued skin and mischievous eyes, gave me a wave before taking a bite.

“Dah!” a gruff voice called out, as shuffling came from behind me.

I spun and laughed as Sneezewort, the hob, who tended our gardens and animals came running between us with an old broom. Sneezewort was short of stature with a round, rosy-tinged nose and long ears that tucked under his moss and twig hat. He only came up to my hip, but was loyal as they come to our family. Sneezewort used his broom as a sword and challenged the pixie as she came back to steal more feed from the chickens.

“Scram, you pesky pixie,” Sneezewort growled and swung the broom. The pixie easily dodged and came up behind him, pulling his moss hat over his eyes. “Eiyee,” he screamed. “The beastie blinded me.” He wildly swung the broom with even more vengeance.

“Ow,” I cried as Sneezewort smacked me in the shoulder. I pulled his hat back and took the broom from his hand.

“Oh, thank the stars, Miss Aura,” Sneezewort grumbled. “I thought for sure I was a goner there.”

“All is fine.” I gave him a pat on the shoulder and heard the pixie’s mental cry of glee. She swept toward us, and I flung out the broom at the last second. The pixie flew right into the bristles and became entangled. A splash of pixie curse words decorated the air along with bubbles of red as she directed her thoughts at me.

“Here you go, Sneezewort.” I handed the trapped pixie to him. “Maybe since she is so hungry and is determined to steal, she would like to stay for dinner?” I winked.

Sneezewort blinked at me a few times before he caught my meaning. “Oh, yes.” He licked his freckled lips and rubbed his stomach through his brown shirt. “It’s been ages since I cooked you up your favorite pixie pie!”

“Eek!” The pixie screamed and begged for her life, promising to never steal from the Evilles again. She said a bunch more, but I grew tired and let Sneezewort take her to the far fields for release.

I dumped the rest of the feed in a pile on the ground, not really caring if pixies stole food or not. I just didn’t care for the way they were treating our family hob. Sneezewort deserved better.

I watched the barn with interest. Honor and Lorn were standing just outside, speaking in low voices. Biting my lip, I debated my options. I wanted to talk to the stranger, and the more Mother warned me away, the more I realized there was a reason.

Window is unlatched, a bored tone reached me.

Hack was coming around the stable, rubbing his back against the cedar corner.

“I can’t crawl in that way. They’ll hear me.”

True. You are pretty useless when it comes to stealth. Unlike me. He sat and licked his paws, flexing his claws.

I rolled my eyes. “Then what do you suggest?”

Hack put his paw down and he closed his eyes into half slits. A distraction.

It wasn’t a bad idea. Hack was smart. I leaned in close. “Quick, run after Sneezewort. He’s about to release a pixie. Have him bring it back here and—”

Hack purred, and I could hear his eagerness. Yess, Yess pixies are good.

“No eating!” I wagged my finger at him.

His tail flicked in anger and he looked away as if ignoring me.

“Hack,” I ground out his name in warning.

He turned, flicked his tail, and bounded off through the field. I hung back in the stable’s shadow and waited. It