The story so far...

Albert Nestory, a sharp, no-nonsense businessman, lands in the Swiss Alps for a quiet retreat, but a solo hike turns into chaos when a violent storm strikes. Lightning hits him—and a tiny, leather-jacketed pixie named Poppy—binding them together for life. Poppy is mischievous, sarcastic, and utterly unfazed by Albert’s scepticism, claiming the bond is permanent. Back at his chalet, Albert tries to dismiss her as a hallucination, but she follows him everywhere.

News of a massive cyberattack on UK hospitals cuts his retreat short. Though no longer in government, Albert is called to coordinate between GCHQ, the NHS, and private vendors, thanks to his reputation for cutting through bureaucracy—and because he’s a major investor in the compromised software. Poppy tags along to London, her presence forcing Albert to mask conversations and strange behaviour from colleagues who suspect stress or lightning damage has rattled him.

In tense meetings, Albert commands the room with his blunt authority, demanding swift, decisive action while battling Poppy’s distracting antics. Behind the scenes, he manoeuvres politicians, tech firms, and hospital boards into cooperation, skipping red tape to contain the crisis.

By night’s end, the immediate plan is in motion, but Albert knows the following days will be critical. He returns to his South Kensington townhouse with Poppy still in tow, resigned to her unwanted company. She seems amused by the unfolding events, hinting that he’ll have to get used to sharing his life—and his space.

Chapter 2

Albert’s definition of “tonight, I’m going home” was meant to include sitting in his study with a drink and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Instead, his phone buzzed before he’d even taken his shoes off.

Fenster calling.

He almost ignored it. Almost. But Adrian Fenster had a knack for making “come out for a drink” sound like a legally binding summons.

Albert answered with a sigh. “If this is about one of your doomed business ventures—”

“It’s about me being three minutes away from your front door,” Adrian cut in. “Put a jacket on. We’re going to the club.”

“I don’t do clubs.”

“This one has chairs, lighting, and people over forty. Try to contain your excitement.”

Albert glanced at Poppy, who was perched on the arm of his sofa and kicking her legs idly. “Great. Now I get to look insane in front of an old friend instead of strangers.”

“Oh, I like friends,” she said brightly.

“You’ll be invisible.”

She smirked. “To everyone else.”

The “club” turned out to be a private members’ lounge in Mayfair—quiet lighting, too much polished wood, and waiters who could materialise at your elbow before you even thought about ordering.

Adrian was already at a corner table, two whiskies poured, sleeves rolled to the elbow like he’d been holding court for hours.

“Nestory!” he said warmly, standing to clap him on the back. “Good to see you in daylight hours.”

“It’s eight-thirty,” Albert pointed out, taking his seat.

Poppy flitted in after him, invisible to everyone else, and landed on the table between their glasses. “Ooo, fancy.”

Albert ignored her. Or tried to.

“So,” Adrian said, settling back, “what’s this I hear about you playing white knight for the NHS?”

“More like fire extinguisher,” Albert said dryly. “Only difference is, the fire extinguisher usually gets put back in the cupboard after use.”

They talked—half gossip, half business—until Albert reached for his glass and something strange happened.

It slid an extra inch toward his hand.

Not across the table—across the air.

He froze, fingers curling around the drink a heartbeat later than they should have.

Poppy was watching him, a slow, knowing smile on her face.

Adrian didn’t notice. “What?”

“Nothing,” Albert said quickly, taking a large sip.

The second time, it was the candle in the centre of the table. Adrian was mid-story when the little flame leaned sideways, as though pulled toward Albert’s hand.

Albert blinked. Adrian kept talking. Poppy bit her lip to keep from laughing.

By the third time—when Adrian’s coaster slid an inch toward Albert without him touching it—he put his glass down.

“Adrian,” he said, keeping his voice low, “you’re going to think I’ve lost my fucking mind, but… I think things are moving when I look at them.”

Adrian grinned. “Finally hit the good stuff, have you?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Next you’ll tell me you can bend spoons with your mind.”

Albert stared at his drink. The coaster beneath it twitched.

Adrian chuckled. “Nice. Very funny.”

Albert didn’t move. “I didn’t touch it.”

Poppy leaned against the sugar bowl, green eyes gleaming. “Maybe you should try something a little bigger.”

Albert, not breaking eye contact with Adrian, reached toward the salt shaker—without touching it.

It lifted, hovered for a breath, then dropped with a soft thunk.

Adrian’s grin faltered. “…Okay. That's pretty cool. How did you do that? Magnets?”

Albert sat back, pulse quickening. “No magnets, Fenster. Ever since I got back from Switzerland, the weirdest shit keeps happening. I'm seeing faries...”

"—Pixies!", Poppy interrupted.

"Uh, Pixies,", Albert continued, "And it's the weirdest shit. I can't explain it at all. She follows me around and says we're bonded for life!"

Adrian picks up Albert's drink and sniffs it. "Are you feeling okay, mate?", he asked casually.

Poppy smiled and swung her legs as she sat on the edge of a pint glass.

As the evening went on, Adrian became convinced that the stress of Albert's situation was getting to his head, and that his dear friend was going somewhat mad, but, being the good friend he was, he decided to just poke fun at it and play along.