Chapter Twenty-Seven

"This place stinks." Storm took a step back as he surveyed the mansion they'd translocated in front of. "Are those the wards I can smell?"

It was almost lunchtime on the following day. Pax got their breakfast order, and while he seemed a bit subdued, he followed Storm over to Cyrus's workshop to ask for Python's assistance. Python was keen, although Cyrus had noted a word of warning.

"We still can't find out who this uncle is," he confided to Storm privately. "There are some pixie families with titles, but all of them have children and established family groups according to the Paranormal Council. Pax hasn't mentioned a spouse…"

"And he would've done." Storm agreed it sounded shady.

"The thing is this guy could be a complete impostor. The fact that Pax doesn't show up on the paranormal register at all suggests he's been hidden for some reason. I'm not saying the uncle's not a pixie, because again I'm sure Pax would've mentioned anything weird in that department, but there have been incidences of pixies going rogue in the past. Unfortunately, pixies don't have their own designated council, although there is a royal family apparently. But when our guys got in touch with the Magical Council, who should be the ones looking out for pixie rights, they were less than helpful. The spell business is also causing the boys at the lab some concerns, so watch your back."

So to land in front of a place that looked as if it had come out of a historical drama movie set – with its huge white columns three stories high and the manicured gardens laid out with military precision as far as the tree lines – was unexpected.

"Uncle always said he had a position to maintain." Pax looked around nervously, although Storm couldn't smell anyone close by. The whole place had a still air, as if even the wind didn't dare blow a nearby branch.

"This place is warded up the wazoo. That suggests this guy's got something to hide, or he's hiding from someone." Python rubbed up and down his arms, and then rubbed his hands together. "Gives me the itches. Let me take care of that."

Unlike Pax's magic that smelled of cotton candy and all things sweet, Python's magic brought up the scent of musk, fire, and spice. Python circled his palms on each other, before bringing them up and flicking his hands at the house, his arms spread wide.

There was a creak and a groan, as if something was resisting the push, but then with another loud crack, the whole house seemed to shudder before settling back into its foundations.

"I know it's customary to knock," Python added with a smirk, "but I think if anyone's home, they already know we're here." He moved toward the porch steps, but Pax darted in front of him.

"I'll go first," he said quickly, running up the steps. "Remember we want answers, so let's not just kill everyone and then scratch our heads afterward, wondering what it was all about."

"I love this guy." Python grinned at Storm. "He cracks me up every time."

"He's also got a point." Storm returned the grin. "Remember, we're the backup. This is Pax's show."

Following his mate into the house, Storm's crocodile was on high alert. The painting of a dead crocodile with a man in a sport's coat standing over him with a gun, that took up almost one whole wall in the entrance hall didn't help.

"That's new." Pax frowned as he scurried past. "My uncle hates hunting."

Making another point perhaps? But Storm couldn't pick up traces of any shifters as he followed Pax down one long corridor and then another. Most of the doors off the corridor were closed, although the few that were open showed opulent rooms but absolutely no people. The place was silent, too, with no signs of life heard anywhere.

"This place gives me the creeps," Python muttered. "It's like a museum on a bank holiday."

"I can't imagine how Pax could live here." Nothing Storm had seen so far had a hint of his pixie's personality.

Speaking of which, Pax had arrived in front of a pair of wooden double doors. He seemed to take a moment to brace himself and then flicked the doors open with his magic, already talking before he got into the room. "Uncle, I've got a bone to pick with you. Uncle? Well, damn." Pax had his hands on his hips. "He's not here. That was anticlimactic after I made such a strong entrance, too."

"It was the best," Storm said hurrying to his side. "Is this your uncle's office?"

"Yes." Pax was looking around, a furrow between his eyes. "It's weird he's not here. It's almost lunchtime, and I really thought for sure he'd be doing something in here today. Look, that's what I mean about the spell markings." He pointed to the desk planner resting on a large oak slab. "That's the mark we saw last night, isn't it? Storm don't go near it."

"He wasn't planning to," Python said, clapping Storm on the shoulder as he went past. He peered at the desk planner, and then randomly opened a couple of drawers. "That thing's got to go." He touched it lightly with his forefinger and the desk planner disappeared. "Ah, and as I suspected, your uncle is a bit of a magical relic collector." He pointed to three shelves on a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that had glass fronts.

"Uncle has always had them," Pax said, barely giving them a glance. "I don't think he ever takes them out, even to clean them. He said they have to be sealed in those glass boxes to prevent them from rotting, they're so old. There are some books like that in his sitting room, too, in a cabinet that's always kept locked."

"There's a good chance those books will be as illegal as these artifacts." Another finger tap from Python and the pieces behind the glass all disappeared, leaving the glass intact.

"You can point us in that direction, then, hon." Storm's crocodile was on high alert. "Is it possible your uncle's just not home today?"

"He wasn't one for going out that often. He usually had people visit him. Not many people liked him." Pax confided, the last part in a lot lower voice. "My uncle never realized but I used to sit in the balcony above his main entertaining room, and I could hear a lot of the conversations that went on."

Storm and Python both stilled as the unmistakable sound of a car door shutting could be heard. Peering out of the window, Python shook his head. "I'm guessing that's your uncle home now, and he's got two other people with him coming into the house. How do you want to play this, little pixie? Should we just come back later when he's alone?"

"No." Pax straightened up and stuck out his chin. "I've been told to stay hidden for most of my life. I'm going to face this head on, and I'm doing this right now. Get the cleaners on speed dial. This could get messy."

"He does know we can't kill innocents, doesn't he?" Python asked quietly as he came back around the desk and met up with Storm as they followed a determined pixie.

"He knows. Pretty cool, though, don't you think? He trusts us to have his back?"

"Cyrus and his nerds are going to have kittens over this." Python chuckled and pulled out his phone. "I'll record this, you know, just in case."

Storm remained fixated on his mate. In that moment he didn't care if Pax wanted to pull down the entire ugly house and kill everyone in it. His mate deserved to shine, and Storm would take out anyone who dared say otherwise.