Chapter 2
Lola squinted. She couldn’t discern anything except that Mrs. Gale, the owner of the large house, needed to invest in a Swiffer. “Not fairy, then what?” She rubbed the end of her nose, wiping away the tickle of an impending sneeze. Damn dust
“Sprite. Nasty, venomous little motherfucker.”
Lola sneezed. Fletcher handed her the light blue handkerchief from his breast pocket.
“Venomous?” Lola asked through sniffles.
Fletcher nodded. “A sprite bite can kill small children and animals. Adults and larger animals experience extreme toxicity.”
“That explains Sir Fluffywoozle,” Lola said.
“Gesundheit.”
Lola arched an eyebrow. “Mrs. Gale said one of her Pomeranians died suddenly a few weeks ago.”
Fletcher’s eyes lit up. “Is the dog buried on the property?”
Lola snorted derisively. “In the garden, but I’m not going to exhume the body of a family pet in a torrential downpour, Mr. Fletcher.” She moved past him up the stairs.
“But, Mrs. Fletcher, during a rainstorm is the best time to exhume bodies.” He followed her. “What if I make it stop raining? Honey?”
“No.”
Lola glanced at the framed pictures lining the walls. Black and white and sepia photographs—the details faded by time—hung alongside recently printed color photos. They were a mishmash of candid snapshots and school portraits of the same four children at varying ages. Three prints of a newborn hung at the head of the staircase, the signature square and over-filtered Instagram prints arranged in a collage.
Fletcher craned his neck, studying the decorative medallion around the ceiling sconce in the third floor library-turned-playroom. The built-in shelves were lined with children’s movies in varying formats—VHS, DVD, and Blu-ray—and a large collection of kids’ books, everything from One Fish, Two Fishto Hunger Games, and two iPads in brightly colored protective cases.
“Spoiled grandkids?” Lola pointed to the vast array of video game consoles, a tangle of USB chords and controllers, a pile of game character figurines, and a knee high stack of game discs.
“Grandma could be a gamer.” Fletcher rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. He tapped a bucket of green Army men with his foot and shrugged. “The little devil has plenty of places to hide, that’s for sure.”
The furnishings in the rest of the house were an eclectic grandmotherish collection of antique and modern. Victorian fainting couches, four-poster beds, handmade quilts and crocheted afghans, French provincial bureaus, and curio cabinets with fine china and porcelain dolls were intermixed with flat screen televisions, novelty cups with cartoon characters on them, and newer Little Tikes and Playschool toys.
“How many Sprites do you think are here?” Lola asked, following her husband up to the top floor of the Brownstone.
“Sprites are loners, so at most you’ll get two in a house during mating season.”
“Mating season?”
“They don’t just appear out of thin air, darlin’”
“I know that, but I didn’t know they had a mating season.” Lola blushed.
“Sometimes I forget you’re non-magical.” Fletcher leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
Lola sometimes forgot that herself. Being married to a Sorcerer made her feel exceptionally special, but it wasn’t because he was magical. He loved her—that was magical enough.
“I’ve never actually seen a sprite. What do they look like?” Lola asked.
“The closest thing I can think of is a gargoyle, but they’re only about this big.” Fletcher held up his hand, thumb and forefinger positioned a few inches apart. “And they can range in color from mossy green to any shade of brown and gray. I’ll bring the suitcase up from the foyer. Chinese for dinner?”
“Sure.” Lola followed Fletcher back down the stairs.
Lola set her shoes to dry by the front door in the foyer and smoothed her skinny jeans over her calves—they had the annoying tendency to bunch inside her rain boots. She was on the second floor, on hold with the Chinese delivery place, when Fletcher passed by, levitating the suitcase up the stairs. “Elevator,” she said to him and pointed to the lift door. She’d mistaken the door for a bathroom and was surprised to find it.
Fletcher stopped and squinted, the expression Lola recognized as slight annoyance. He was used to using his magic to make tasks easier and it often didn’t occur to him to use non-magical things to do the same thing.
“Lo Mein?” Lola asked him.
Fletcher nodded and gave her a thumbs up as he floated the suitcase into the elevator.
The rain continued to fall and Lola tipped the delivery kid extra. “Is there any way to make the Sprites show up faster?” she asked Fletcher as she pulled the white cardboard cartons from the white plastic bag, with the giant yellow smiley face and “Thank You!!!” on it.