My partner, Lily, rushed through the doors of the Safe Harbor Café with a blast of brisk fall air that ruffled the curtains. The framed windows ran along the edges of the Safe Harbor Café. She held her purse out in front of her—as far away from her body as she possibly could. “Sorry I’m late, but there’s a fairy that needs our help. I got the call when I was on my way in. I drove out to pick him up to bring him here. It took me forever to find him. Maybe I should have had you drive out there. I don’t think I’m very good for him.”

The café pulled one of the bar stools out for her from the counter and moved it into her path. She set her purse down and backed away. As I watched, she slowed her breathing. I could tell she struggled to keep tight control over her nullification magic, but it was difficult for her to control it when she moved around.

A tiny head popped out of her purse “Holy cannoli, woman, don’t ever get near me again. I thought I was dying—maybe I was. I’m mostly magic, and you suck it all out of me.”

“I’m sorry for my partner’s powers. They can be a little hard to take at times. Are you hurt? How can I help you?” I went over and knelt by the stool, where the little fairy stood. Experience had taught me that he wouldn’t enjoy being picked up. He crawled down the side of the desk, leaving a trail of fairy dust behind. He was a deep brown, almost the same color as Lily’s leather bag. He wore a tiny green business suit. When I looked closer, I could see that the fabric was really made of tiny leaves, layered on top of each other like scales. There was a rumor that the local fairy folk had learned to speak English from watching old gangster movies at the drive-in back in the day. I’d never been able to confirm it with any of them. But given that they all spoke like extras in the Godfather, it wasn’t hard to believe.

“A witch pulled off my wings,” he explained, “it hurts, like a frost bite, and is bleeding like a stuck spider since your partner suppressed my magic. I couldn’t heal myself.” He slid off his delicate green jacket and turned his back to me. The back of his white shirt was stained with two dark red-brown lines, where his wings should have been.

“You’re still bleeding after all this time? I would be happy to staunch the bleeding and help you regrow your wings.”

“You can do that? They should have closed over and scarred days ago, but they haven’t. There’s a spell gumming up the works, so it can’t heal. My dust kept the wounds closed, but around your partner, I can’t dust. I started bleeding again. I thought that I was going to bleed to death before she got me here. My wife called you guys. I can’t believe she did that. I would have healed or died. There’s no call for all this fuss. If the wind is blowing you out, then out you go.” He tried to stand proudly, but he was unsteady on his feet.

“My name is Harper. I am a guardian and a healer. There’s no shame or anything unnatural about your wife reaching out to us. We are here to serve. What’s your name?” I placed my right hand over my heart so he would know I meant it. As he twisted around, trying to get a better look at his back, more blood oozed out. He almost fell over in the attempt.

“I’m Tony the Wasp. Pleased to meet you, Guardian Harper.”

“Mr. Wasp, will you give me permission to heal you?” I asked him. He was so small that I could have just grabbed him. Uninjured, I wouldn’t be able to snag him at all since his reflexes were so much more finely developed than a larger person’s, but like this, a child could have snatched him up like a living toy.

“Ha. Mr. Wasp. I like that.” He looked at me suspiciously. “Will you have to pick me to heal me?”

“No, I do need to be in contact with you. Would you mind touching my finger?”

“How about a boob?” he asked me with a leer as he swayed against the purse before righting himself. He left a bloody smear on the bag.

“Don’t you have a wife?” I asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, but what she don’t know can’t hurt her. Besides, she called you in.”

“Look, I’m no coward. But I don’t want to piss off a fairy wife. I don’t want to wake up with a dragonfly head in my bed.”

“Aw, naw, don’t smear her. She’d never do you dirty like that. She’d just kill you.” He smirked. The pain was still evident in his stance, but he was fighting hard to hide it.

“Oh, great. I can be murdered by an ethical fairy. No, thank you, Mr. Wasp. Just take my finger, please.” I held out my pointer finger to him and sat back on my heels. For some of my cases, I would need to use minerals to augment my healing power. The café charged the minerals so that healing wouldn’t sap my life force. But for someone so tiny and so magical, I didn’t need any extra help.

He didn’t take my finger. “Can you really regrow my wings?”

“I don’t know. I have regrown parts before, but it doesn’t always work. A lot of it depends on what your magic is willing to allow. If you were a vamp, I’d say no. If you were a werewolf, I’d tell you that I could. My experience healing your kind has been very limited. I’ve never healed an adult, just a few babies—and nothing at this level. Your wing hasn’t just been cut off. You said there’s a spell in the wound. I have to remove that and then try to heal the wound. Once the wound is cleaned and closed, I will try to work with your body to regrow your wings. But again, I can’t guarantee anything,” I told him truthfully.

He said, “I’m not sure I want you to heal me.”

“But what about your wife? She called us. She must love you very much and want you to be with her.”

“Maybe she does, or maybe she just doesn’t want to be alone. You never can tell with that woman. She’s a right old war sword.” I could hear the fondness in his voice.

“She called us and led us to you. Winter is coming. Maybe she doesn’t want to spend the hard, cold months alone.” I couldn’t force him to accept my help, but no one ever said I couldn’t manipulate him into taking it either.

“You’re right. If I die on her, she’ll bring me back just to kill me herself.” He staggered toward me. It took a tremendous amount of self-control not to reach out a hand and steady him. But he was a proud man, and I didn’t get the feeling he would appreciate the gesture. So, I held my hand steady and waited for him to take my finger. “If you can’t fix my wings, I’m going to have to kill myself, you know? I can’t be a wingless fairy. It’s a twisted thing to be.”

“Well, okay then, no pressure.” I tried to keep my voice light and my tone easy. I had no idea if I could fix him at all. I could fix most things, but as soon as dark magic came into play, the odds changed and not always in predictable ways. Sometimes a cursed wound was easier to heal, and sometimes, I couldn’t touch them at all.

“Yeah, no pressure. Will it hurt?” He didn’t sound afraid. Merely curious.

“No, it shouldn’t.” Inside my head, I spindled my magic. I wound it round and round into a tight ball, then slowly released a small thread into Mr. Wasp’s body. I felt it pass from my finger into his hand, and I sent it searching along his body. It reached the pestilence, the filth of the dark spell reverberated all the way up the strand of my magic. Breathing slowly and evenly, I began to pull the darkness from his body and into my own. It came, and it ate at my magic hungrily. For a moment, I was worried that it was growing, but I was able to wrap it up in my magic and hold it inside of me and apart from me.

Then the real work of the healing began. I fed more magic into his tiny body and slowly imagined the holes in his back closing up. I didn’t want to shut them too abruptly and prevent his wings from escaping. His magic began to rub up against mine like two hands touching in the dark. I could feel its greenness and purity after the taint of the black magic. Slowly, I fed it more and more of my healing magic. I didn’t want to overwhelm his small system with a massive dose of my magic, but I wanted to give his powers a boost.

His powers began to accept that mine meant no harm and started to draw more heavily on mine. I felt it happen. Seconds of my life flaked away and pulled into his body to help him heal. The soft unfolding of new growth as his wings sprang into existence. I was relieved. I opened my eyes. They were beautiful, wet, and translucent like the wings of a dragonfly. The fairy cried. His face was beautiful with relief, and his tears shone. He cried magic. I didn’t dare speak for fear of interrupting his intimate moment.

When he collected himself, he broke the silence first. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

“Not really. It’s our job, so don’t feel in debt to us. In fact, we can’t turn away any creature in distress who comes to our doors.” Life debts could take on a magical power of their own, but since we were employed by the spirit of the Safe Harbor Café, they didn’t become personal. It was important for the guardhouse to maintain neutrality so that it could be a safe space.

“That may be, but I didn’t come for you. Your great blank friend over there came and got me.” He gestured to Lily, who was on the other side of the diner, so her magic wouldn’t interfere with mine.

“Yes, but your wife called and asked her to get you. It wasn’t that she found you on her own. Someone came and sought our help. As guardians for the Safe Harbor Café, we are obligated to the café to help all who ask. You don’t owe us anything. But I’d like to hear about the witch that took your wings. I’m wondering if she’s involved in some other stuff that’s going on. But first, I need to off-load this dark magic.” I opened the rock box next to the bowl.

I closed my eyes and let a single tendril of the magic that wrapped up the pestilence—that had infected the pixie’s wounds—escape and seek out a home. When my magic found a rock it connected with, I felt a chime inside of me that was an echo of a singing bowl. I opened my eyes and pulled out the rock. I was holding a piece of magnetic hematite. With its high iron content, it was perfect for dumping off the dark magic. Slowly, I pushed the dark magic out of my body and into the rock. The smooth surface of the hematite began to crack, and lines of red rust appeared like flakes of dried blood.

When all of the evil had left my body, metaphysical slime coated the rock. I looked at it with distaste. As gross as it was that it had been in my body at all, it was far worse for the poor fairy, who had been carrying it around for days. Usually, I would drop the rock into the mason jar of salt water that I keep beside the box. The salt would disillusion the spell. But this spell could be used as evidence against the woman who had cast it, so I thought it prudent to save it. It looked like we had another case to investigate.