I nod, already having guessed as much. Winter pixies pick up threads of memories from those around them and share in the person’s emotions.
If the pixie is sad, they tend to draw sad memories. If they’re happy, happy memories.
A happy winter pixie is a joy to be around. You’ll remember your first kitten—how soft her fur was and the way she purred when she sat on your lap. You might remember what it felt like to fall in love, or the day your child was born.
But a sad pixie can be devastating, and like mood chameleons, they’ll adopt the strongest emotions around them. If they get too close to someone who’s grieving, they can infect an entire room with a bout of crippling sadness.
We call it the gift of remembrance, but I’ve always believed it’s more of a curse. No one wants to remember, in cinematic detail, their first breakup, nor the time they had to say goodbye to a beloved pet—or worse, a loved one.
The door opens behind us, and Ash and I turn. A man walks in, dressed in a gray suit. He’s high fae and as good-looking as Ash, but older, probably in his early forties. In fact, he looks a lot like Ash.
“Gideon,” Ash says sharply. “Anna just had a call about a rogue alligator.”
“Alligator?” The man looks baffled.
“Another one of Dorian’s dragons must have escaped,” Anna says.
The man groans. “Not again.”
“I told you it was a bad idea,” Ash says.
Gideon asks Anna, “Have you called Dorian yet?”
“I’m getting ready to.”
“You have to at least fine him this time,” Ash insists.
Looking around, Gideon frowns. “Where’s Bailey?”
“I had to send her home,” Anna says.
“Is she sick?”
“Sad.”
Gideon’s face softens. “Are you all right?”
“Fine now.”
“I’m sure she’ll be better tomorrow,” he assures Anna, and then he turns to me. “Please tell me you’re not human, because I don’t have time to work a memory charm today.”
“I’m a pixie.”
“Thank goodness.” Then he seems to rethink his relief. Cautiously, he asks, “What season?”
“Summer.”
His features soften. “Even better.”
“Gideon, this is Kathleen, Laverna’s niece,” Ash says. “Kathleen, this is my brother and our town’s mayor, Gideon.”
“Kit,” I correct, wondering if he’s doing it on purpose now.
“So, you’re our new tea shop owner.” The mayor looks pleased. “Glad you’re here. When do you think you’ll reopen?”
“By the Firefly Festival,” Ash says before I can open my mouth. “I’m going to help her get her business paperwork straightened out.”
“All good news. Welcome to Moss Hollow.” The mayor glances at his phone when it vibrates. “I have a video meeting in five minutes. Please excuse me.”
