Page 26

I pinched my lips together and folded my arms, keeping the urge to laugh buried deep inside. This was going to be interesting. Although, I suspected Victor wasn’t as oblivious to Zee’s games as Zee thought. It was Zee’s birthday, after all. Victor just made it really hard to tell when he was in on the joke.

Zee cleared his throat, shuffled his wings, and lifted his chin. “Alright, Lord Fancy Pants, you ready?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You may use my perfectly good name.”

“Get over it. Not gonna happen. Close your eyes, turn around, and repeat the little pixie rhyme.”

Was it cruel to ask him to do this on the same day he’d walked away from his old life? He’d refuse if it was too much, wouldn’t he? “Victor, you don’t have to do this⁠—”

He held up a finger. “It may surprise you, that of all the actions I’ve had to perform during my many centuries alive, this is one of the least humiliating.”

“We get it, you’re old,” Zee drawled. “Do the rhyme, daddy.”

“As it is your birthday, demon, this is the one and only time I’ll obey such an order.” Victor closed his eyes, and as he turned he spoke, in his deep, deliciously smooth voice. “With a sprinkle of stardust and moonlight's gleam, pixie, come forth from the in-between. By oak and by leaf, by wind and by sea, magic and mischief, we summon thee!”

If Zee was hoping to humiliate him, he was going to be disappointed. Each of Victor’s words resonated with gravitas, and what should have been a silly spectacle turned out to be mesmerizing Shakespearean performance.

Victor finished, facing us, and opened his eyes.

The jukebox fell quiet and a soft silence settled over the bar, interrupted only by a slamming door somewhere far off in the hotel.

Zee mumbled, “I guess that’s good.” And buried his face in the guide.

“What happens now?” I asked him.

“It doesn’t say.” Zee glanced around. Supposedly, Little Jimmy would now appear, but there wasn’t much happening. “Maybe do it again?” Zee asked.

“I am certain once was enough.” Victor stepped out of the cupcake circle.

What were the chances Little Jimmy was even nearby and heard Victor’s performance?

A few more seconds ticked by, then a minute. It was becoming clear, Jimmy wasn’t going to show. “At least we get cupcakes and cake.” I headed for the bar. “Tom, do you have any little side plates back there?”

“Let me check.” He looked me dead in the eyes without checking and said, “No.”

“Any napkins?”

“Napkins?” Tom drawled. “Would you like an olive in your martini with that napkin, sir?”

“What? No martini. Just a napkin.”

“One Dirty Martini coming right up.”

“Tom, I don’t . . .” I sighed and slumped on the stool. “Fine. Sure. I’ll take a martini with my napkin.”

He clattered around, fixing the martini, while Zee and Reynard discussed what to do about the pixie circle—whether to adjust it, making it bigger, or try some other sweet treats.

“Fifteen bucks,” Tom said, sliding my martini across the bar on a napkin.

“For a martini?!”

“Eighteen bucks.”

“Why did it just go up?”

“Nineteen bucks. Price goes higher the more the customer disrespects my art.”

“That’s not how sales work. And I just wanted the napkin.”