“You have to sing to them Max.”
“I’m not singing to a demon.”
“They’re not that different from angels.”
“I don’t sing to angles either.”
“Would you sing to a lover?”
Max a slight smile with a bit of fang. “Absolutely not. They sing to me.”
Andy rolled his eyes at his elder brother. “I’m sure they do.”
A chorus of high-pitched giggling could be heard from a cross the room. Max turned around to see what it was. “My God Andy, what self-respecting Vampire allows Pixies in his home?”
The two Vampire brothers finished their goblets of blood in Andy’s elegant sitting room, then moved out to the garden with a bottle of wine.
The Pixies followed in a shower of multicolored sparks and sat among the twinkle lights in Andy’s trees. They giggled and straightened out their tiny pink and silver skirts.
Andy looked over at his brother Max, the great Vampire warrior, enforcer, hunter of Vampire Hunters, and general bad ass. He was what people thought of when they thought of a sexy, powerful, alpha Vampire. Andrew on the other hand was an opera singer with a life driven by beauty and love.
“Look how cute they are Max. You really ought to make friends with them.”
Max looked disgusted. “They bite.”
“So do we.”
“I already have Selkies and Werewolves invading my life, not to mention Demons. I don’t need Pixies.”
“Everyone needs Pixies Max. And if you’re nice they won’t bite.”
The conversation moved on to other things like wine, art, gossip, and women. The Pixies listened, then went on to their own quiet conversations, then fell asleep in the branches of Andy’s trees.
And the brothers watched the sunrise, in the quiet summer morning, knowing that the fireworks the next night would be much larger than Pixie dust but not quite as charming.