I was going to kill Piepen.
“This was your best idea yet, Piepen,” the creature squeaked.
Piepen didn’t respond. He was too busy tugging on himself. He squealed, and his wings stopped a second before he sparkled profusely.
“We should be safe here, Wetwhistle,” Piepen panted, his wings fluttering to life again. His gaze went to the television, and his hand returned to his tiny twig.
“You are far from safe here, brownie,” I said. “My forgiveness is at an end.”
Piepen’s head whipped toward me, his gaze already filling with adoration.
“There’s my little lady!” He flew at me and stopped at the last moment without me needing to warn him. “I’d like to give you a hug. Are you in the mood for one?”
“I’m in the mood for your blood.”
“She doesn’t sound much different than Dewy,” Wetwhistle said, his eyes locked on the screen and his hand locked on his happy stick. “But, at least this one isn’t demanding your wings.”
My eyes narrowed on the little man, and Piepen quickly flitted to the side so I was staring at his naked backside.
“Eliana is better than Dewy in every way. Disrespect her, and you and I are going to have words.”
The complete ridiculousness of the situation calmed some of my anger.
“No touching yourself in my presence,” I said on my way to the windows. The fresh air was a slight relief.
After a calming breath of it, I turned and found both brownies watching me. Wetwhistle’s hands were on his hips in a bold power pose that made me gaggy. Piepen had taken his hat off and held it in his hands. Whether intentional or not, it was hiding his bits, for which I was grateful.
“Start explaining,” I said.
“I asked questions like the wolf suggested. The baby isn’t mine. Madeline confirmed that Dewy would have had to have been pregnant before I met her in order to give birth to a healthy baby when she did. But when I confronted Dewy, she wouldn’t admit the baby isn’t mine. Instead, she got angry and started accusing me of being a piece of flit dad.”
Piepen looked down at his hands for a moment before earnestly meeting my gaze.
“I swear on my life that I will be the best possible father to our children.”
Wetwhistle smothered a laugh with his hand. Piepen flushed, but he didn’t look away from me.
“Whatever it takes,” he promised solemnly.
“Piepen, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not pregnant.”
“You man-stealing sex leech!”
My eyes rounded, and I turned my head toward the source of the ear-piercing shriek of rage. A round ball flew toward me at a frightening speed. Instinctively, my vision sharpened, bringing the projectile into focus so I recognized it was a female brownie flying at me from the window I’d just opened. Her small red face was twisted in an angry snarl as she pulled back her arm. Her tiny palm struck my cheek with all the force of a flicked pea.
I plucked her from the air before she could try anything else. Without the use of her wings, she swung at me and snarled insults.
“How can you possibly love this bloated beanstalk? Her breasts are pathetic. Look at mine.” She tugged down her top to expose her heavy breasts to the brownies.
They both looked their fill, and Wetwhistle’s hand dipped toward his sparkler twice, thankfully never making contact, as he frowned.
“Why can’t I touch my—"
“Please don’t hurt my sister,” Merrifolds cried as she rushed through the window. Sweat dotted her small brow as she struggled to fly level with the extra weight of the baby in her arms. The baby of questionable parentage, if I were to guess.
Taking pity on Merri, I held out my free hand. Protectively cradling the baby, she landed on my palm in a heap. She pulled back the blanket to check on the infant before looking up at me.
“Thank you, Eliana.”
My gaze swept over the brownies. Flushed Piepen. Annoyed Wetwhistle. Tired Merri. Irate Dewy, whose anger intensified as our gazes locked.
“The next words out of your mouth will be the truth, or I will pluck these wings from your back and make you eat them. Am I clear?”
Dewy’s complexion turned more vibrant even as she nodded.
“Who is the father of your child?”
“A lazy, flit of a brownie unwilling to sell his wings to support his offspring.”
Piepen and Wetwhistle looked sick.
“Why are you so stuck on wing-selling?” I asked. “There are other options for support.”
“It’s the creatures that visit the swamp, looking for wings,” Merri said. “They tempt us with promises of wealth. Yesterday’s goblin promised Dewy her weight in gold if she gave him wings.”
A ball of dread settled in my stomach.
“What goblin?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“He calls himself Elbner and has been showing up most mornings before dawn since Piepen arrived,” Dewy said. “I hate your gargantuan face with every fiber of my being. Piepen was mine. He worshiped every word I said until you seduced him. Release my man, homewrecker, and stop giving him your underwear.”
I spared Piepen a sharp, warning glance before focusing on Dewy again.
“Your weight in gold is barely anything. Definitely not enough to raise a kid even if Piepen’s wings were yours to sell. If you want to take the easy path and rob yourself of later opportunity, sell your own wings. Now, speak the name of your baby’s father.”
“Piepen is mine, you hateful hellcat in heat,” she shrieked.
Angry, I brought her closer to my face.
“The name,” I bit out.
She kicked me in the nose. My control snapped.
“Who is the father?” I yelled in her face.
“I am,” Wetwhistle said. “Dewy’s glistening petals lured me in, but I was smart enough to fly after I sparkled. Like Merri said, Elbner isn’t the first creature who’s come around to buy some wings, and I didn’t like the way Dewy kept petting mine while I was drinking her dew.”
I gagged at the imagery of his words, and my anger evaporated with the renewed lust wafting off Wetwhistle.
“Spare me the details.” I looked at Dewy. “And put your chest away. Now the truth is out, and you can go home.”
I released her. Instead of flying for the door, she flew at my eye. I flicked her away and watched her tumble in the air for a moment before she righted herself.
“The Council will hear of this mistreatment,” she railed.
“It looked like self-defense to me,” Adira said from the doorway.
I withered inside. Why me?
Merri shot me a worried look. “Is she going to eat our wings?”
“No, I am not interested in your wings, but I’m very interested in why a succubus is mediating what appears to be drama fit for daytime television.”
Since I refused to side with Adira even though she was completely right in this case, I ignored her question and addressed Dewy.
“I don’t trust you not to sell your child’s wings when it’s old enough. Because of that, I’m going to recommend to the Council that the child stays with Madeline and Marshal. If they accept, Wetwhistle, you’re going to get a job and pay them a reasonable amount to help support the child you made. And for the love of the gods, can you all please stop sneaking into my bedroom at night?”