The Fairyland Murders (10 page)

“You have the wrong blue guy.”

“We don't make mistakes.”

Hard to argue with that sort of logic, but I gave it the good old GED try. “Let's say, for the sake of argument, that I am in fact the right investigative genius you're looking for. What exactly do I have that you want?”

“Don't play games. Give
it
to us or else.” He waved his sword at the fairy next to me. I glanced at Izzy, expecting tears and fear. Instead, her expression burned with rage.

Uh-oh.

“Izzy . . .” I warned, much too late.

“It?
It!
” Her face crinkled with anger. “You better not be referring to me. I'm not an object. I have a name, damn it,” she said before exploding into full fairy mode.

“Take it easy. . . .” I began, but I was too late to stop what was about to happen. Izzy's wings flapped at a hundred miles a minute, sucking in the air around us like a vortex.

“Izz—” I dropped my gun and grabbed my throat as my lungs contorted, struggling for oxygen. Thankfully, the Shadows were experiencing the same problem. The second-in-command fell to his knees, gurgling.

Wings flapped harder.

A small tornado encircled us.

“Stop . . .” I gasped, falling to my own knees.

As quickly as the fluttering started her wings stilled, but the next Tooth Fairy in line was far from finished. She sucked in a large breath, her cheeks puffing out like a balloon.

The Shadows and I took the opportunity to suck in our own oxygen as well. Deep, slurping gasps of it. My red blood cells, starved of oxygen, sizzled to life. My brain began to function again, albeit slowly.

When my head finally stopped spinning I staggered to my feet, sadly in time to take a full-on blast of fairy dust to the face thrown accidentally by the very angry half fairy trying to save our lives. “Ahhhh,” I yelped, rubbing my burning retinas. But I was too late; the fairy dust entered my bloodstream like a tsunami.

One minute I was on my feet, ready to fight for truth, justice, and Izzy's virtue, and the next I was on my back, watching pretty colors trail off her pink wings. Flickers danced off her in the moonlight, swirls of red and sparks of silver. “Pretty,” I said, reaching out to touch the beautiful swirls.

“Oh God,” she said. “Blue . . . can you hear me?”

My fingers brushed a particularly lovely whirl of softness and light. Wings, I thought, and for half a second sanity returned. “Run, Izzy. Run,” I yelled, but the dust was on me once again. Her small face melded into Clayton's and then Peyton's evil little visage.

Blackness filled my vision.

“Get up.” She tugged on my arm. “We have to—”

Those were the last words I could comprehend. The next few minutes blurred into swirling lights, grunts, and girlish screams. I reached out, digging my fingers into something black and gooey. Electrical currents sparked from my fingertips.

“Ouch!” my hostage yelped and tried to pull free.

I held tighter. Something hard knocked me in the jaw. I saw tiny blue-haired Blues. I grabbed for my hostage again, finding nothing but air. I wouldn't let Izzy down, I promised my rapidly disintegrating sanity. I'd vowed to save her and save her I would.

She cried out.

My stomach clenched as I staggered to my feet, blinded by the fairy dust. The ground smelled rusty, like freshly shed blood and body parts.

“Izzy?” I yelled from my foggy, dreamlike state. The pretty pink and red colors twisted into darkness. Goose bumps prickled my skin. “Izzy?” I screamed again and again until my voice turned hoarse. Nothing but silence greeted me.

The battle was over.

And the half fairy was gone.

H
ours later I awoke as the sun rose over the city, casting it in a glow of pink and gold. Morning dew soaked my T-shirt and jeans as a stark coldness settled into my bones, a coldness that had nothing to do with the weather. “Isabella,” I whispered through ragged vocal cords. My head felt eight sizes too large as I slowly staggering to my feet. The ground beneath me was stained black with shadowy parts.

I shivered, dreading what else I might find. Was Izzy lying somewhere nearby injured or dead? Taking a deep breath, I scanned the carnage until my gaze fell on a blood-soaked bit of wing peeking out from under a bush. I ran to it, my heart slamming wildly in my chest.

Slowly I knelt down, dreading what I would find. Last night Izzy had saved my life for a second time. I hoped it hadn't cost her her own. Closing my eyes, I sent a quick prayer to every saint I could remember from my days at the Catholic orphanage as I carefully lifted the bush. Much to my surprise and relief Izzy wasn't underneath; only a few feathers from one of her wings. So where the hell was she?

For the next hour I searched Troll Town, questioning every ugly trollish figure I passed. No one had seen Izzy after what they described as the apocalypse had started. Damn drama trolls.

As I was about to call it quits, I caught sight of a fairy wing disappearing behind a dilapidated shack. “Izzy,” I yelled, running for the winged fairy.

As I rounded the corner I pulled to a stop, nearly mowing down the two-foot-tall fairy in front of me. Henrick. His purple wings beat at a steady pace. I grabbed one of his wings in my gloved hands, yanking him upward.

He squealed like a little piggy left without roast beef. “Let me go.”

“Where is she?” I shook him, holding my breath as a puff of fairy dust exploded in the air. Last thing I needed was another hit of the vile drug. I shook him again for good measure. More dust filled the air around us. Thankfully, a steady breeze carried it away.

Henrick let out a cry and tried to kick me in the shin. I grinned. I had to give it to the little bugger; even after going a few rounds with the Shadows, he was still as full of anger as ever. Not that he'd gotten off unscathed. In fact, both of his eyes had been blackened and a drip of dried blood ran from his nostril. Better, his two front teeth were missing.

I repeated my question with another jerk of his wings. “Where is Izzy?”

“I don't know,” he screeched. “I never saw her after you threw me to the Shadows.”

I tried to hide a smile. “My bad.”

“It will be.” He fluttered his free wing with all his might. More fairy dust flew in all directions. I dropped him, leaping back to avoid the toxic cloud. I waved a hand in front of my face to clear the air, but by the time I regained my senses, Henrick was gone. He'd bested me this time, but he wouldn't be so lucky next time.

I hoped.

 

After my run-in with Henrick I went back to the search for Izzy, but in the end it proved fruitless. She was gone. No sign of her anywhere. With a heavy heart, I staggered home, hoping Izzy had somehow found her way back to my apartment.

When I opened my front door the only sound greeting me was the whisper of the wind through my bedsheet curtains. Izzy had left the window open after she'd escaped my apartment. The thought brought a brief smile to my lips. She was tougher than she looked, I reminded myself. A fairy capable of leaping tall buildings in a single bound. Or, at the very least, stealing the teeth of small children and leaving a mere pittance in return.

She would be all right.

She had to be.

I headed for the shower after checking my empty answering machine, both home and office, and downing a handful of aspirin. I needed a clear head. Izzy's fairy dust had left me feeling as if I were swimming in a pool of taffy. I was lucky to be alive after taking a faceful of the stuff. Could I say the same for her? Was she even now suffering at the hands of the Shadows? Or had she escaped?

Turning the cold water to full blast, I stepped under the spray, shrieked once, and quickly scrubbed off the blackness staining my hands. Five minutes later, fully dressed in a semiclean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I poured a cup of instant coffee into an old soup can, tossed on my leather jacket and gloves, and headed down to the street below.

I would find Izzy. Again. Even if it killed me.

Thirty minutes later it almost did exactly that.

“O
h, please don't be dead. I can't afford another write-up,” a voice said from above me. A shining light burned my retinas. I shoved the offending brightness away, wincing as my body began to throb in places I hadn't known could throb, let alone had nerve endings.

I lifted my head, noting that I was currently lying on hard concrete, the smell of fairy dust and dentin all around me. Teeth, in an array of sizes and colors, covered me.

“What the hell happened?” I asked. My voice sounded harsh, as if I'd gone ten rounds with the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker. I'd just arrived at Fairy Central on my quest for Izzy and now I was sprawled on the ground swathed in stolen teeth.

The orange-winged guy above me, a fairy wearing a hard hat and work boots, flinched. “There was a minor accident.”

“An accident?”

“A small one. Tiny, really.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, staggering to my feet. “So why do I feel as if I was crushed under a bus?” Every bone in my body ached, from my littlest piggy to the tips of my blue do.

“Molars,” he said. “Not a bus.”

“Excuse me?”

He winced. “I'm sorry, okay? I didn't see you. And really, now that I think about it, it's your own fault. You must wear a hard hat at all times in this area. Didn't you read the sign?”

“See me?” I glanced to the left and then the right. Fairies in an array of colored hard hats ran about like busy beavers. Teeth sat in piles for as far as the eye could see. Forklifts poured more and more on top of the piles. The fairies were either gearing up for a long winter or something a lot worse. Since winter was still a good five months off, I had a bad feeling, almost as bad as the ringing in my head.

Since the fairies relied on the Tooth Fairy to provide them with enough dentin for all of Fairyland, an excess stockpile of teeth meant one thing. Someone was actively collecting teeth.

Maybe Clayton and Peyton weren't right about Izzy. Maybe she wasn't a Tooth Fairy-in-waiting. And if not, just who was she and why did someone want her dead? It was almost too much to consider at the moment.

The fairy who'd run me down grabbed my arm as I started to sway. The resulting zap served him right. He yelped, releasing me quickly as he blew on his fingers. “Ow! What the hell was that?”

“Just deserts,” I said, brushing off layers of dentin dust. I waved a hand at the long line of piled-up teeth. “What's going on here?”

“What's it to you?” he asked, his eyes rounding with suspicion. “Just who are you anyway? The warehouse is off-limits to nonfairies.”

I held out my hand, a tight smile on my face. “Name's Blue. Blue Reynolds. And you are?”

As expected, the less-than-brilliant fairy grabbed my hand. A buzzing echoed through the warehouse as he suffered through another fifty-thousand-volt zap. He jerked back and then tripped over his feet, winding up sprawled next to a pile of teeth. When he finally regained his wits he glared up at me. “I'm Doyle.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Doyle.” I held out my hand again.

He looked at it and then me and back to my outstretched appendage. My smile grew wider. The idiot was actually considering taking my hand again. Had Izzy not been missing, I might've played this game for the next hour or so, but time wasn't on her side. Not if the Shadows had captured her.

“Doyle,” I said, “let's start over. I'm looking for the Tooth Fairy.”

He pushed his tiny body upright, his eyes narrowing. “No returns.”

“Excuse me?”

He blew out a long sigh. “I get it. You think you got a raw deal, but them's the breaks. We paid you good money. Trust me, the tooth game isn't nearly as good as everyone thinks.” He motioned to the warehouse door. “Thanks for your business. Have a nice day.”

I chuckled. “It hasn't been that great of one so far. But Doyle, my friend,” I yanked on my gloves, “you are about to make things a little better.”

He backed up a step. “I . . .”

“Why don't we start with something easy?” My smile twisted into something much darker. “Take me to your leader.”

D
oyle reluctantly led me from the warehouse to the main entrance of Fairy Central, a place where very few nonfairies had ever been. I stopped him before we reached the front door, snatching him by the back of the neck and pulling his tiny body behind a Dumpster full of decay-riddled teeth. “Quiet,” I ordered, slapping my hand over his mouth when he started to shriek. I peeked around the Dumpster, watching as two very familiar figures emerged from Fairy Central.

Detective Locks and her partner, Detective Rabit, didn't seem to notice me or my fairy captive as they left Fairy Central, both intent on the files in their hands. Eight files to be precise. The Jack the Tooth Ripper files.

I waited with my hand over Doyle's mouth for the detectives to leave. When they did I dropped the small fairy and then pushed him forward. “Come on, Doyle. Stop dallying. I don't have all day.”

He frowned but didn't argue as he led me the rest of the way to headquarters. We paused at the steel front door. “The Council's not going to like this,” he said, his small wings flapping with panic.

I shrugged. “At the moment I couldn't care less what the Council likes or dislikes.” My only thoughts were of the missing half fairy. If only I'd stopped her from following me. Hell, I could've knocked her over the head and tied her to my bed. Sure, she'd be pissed, but at least she'd be safe.

“It's your funeral,” Doyle said, shaking his head. He pressed a few buttons on a keypad and the doors guarding Fairy Central opened. He motioned me inside.

I ducked down, squeezing my six-foot frame through the three-foot doors. No sooner had I stepped through the entryway than the doors behind me slammed closed. “Chicken Little,” I whispered to the retreating fairy.

“What do you want?” a voice barked from somewhere down the corridor. The voice was low and deep, a voice used to intimidate. The same tone used by the nuns at the orphanage.

I squinted into the blackness, seeing nothing but more darkness. “I'm looking for the person in charge.”

“The Tooth Fairy's not here.”

Not what I wanted to hear, but I masked my disappointment. “Not her. I need to speak with the Fairy Council.”

A long drawn-out sigh echoed from the darkness. “No returns. No refunds.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm not here for my baby teeth. I was hired to find your Tooth Fairy and I damn well will find her, with your help, or else . . .”

Much to my surprise, Clayton came out from the cover of darkness, looking healthy and happy. The little winged demon. “We no longer need your services.”

“Is that right?”

“It's nothing personal.” His Adam's apple bobbled in his throat, a sure sign of his distress at finding me in the hallway of Fairy Central. “Isabella is safe and sound, so we don't need you showing up unannounced, causing trouble.”

I held up my hands. “You want me off the case? Fine. I want to talk to Izzy and then I'm gone.”

“Out of the question,” Peyton said, appearing at his twin's side. His tiny face contorted into a sneer. “Isabella never wants to see you again.”

“Our poor niece has been through too much already thanks to you,” Clayton added.

My lips curled up. “Half-fairy niece,” I reminded them of their original story. Even if Izzy had never said a word, it was obvious she was in no way related to these two. Izzy was beyond beautiful, while Clayton and Peyton looked like shrunken old guys with wings.

Just what the hell was going on? Was Izzy really safely tucked away in Fairy Central? I had my doubts. Only one way to find out. I stepped forward, pulling off my gloves.

The twins leaped back. “Take it easy, Blue,” Clayton choked. “No need to get touchy.”

“You have thirty seconds to produce Izzy,” I warned as cobalt sparks flickered off my fingertips. “I suggest you don't dawdle.”

Clayton faced his twin. For a few seconds they silently communicated. Then Peyton turned to me. “She ain't here.”

“No . . .” I said in my most sarcastic of tones.

He ignored my outburst. “We don't know where she is.”

“Then what's all this stuff about firing me?”

Clayton answered for his twin. “Someone threatened to kill us if we didn't get rid of you. Immediately.”

“Who?”

“No idea. An anonymous e-mail arrived yesterday morning around six with the threat. We tried to track the IP address, but it ended up in some Internet café in New Fairsey.”

I nodded with sudden understanding. “So the two of you skipped town.”

He shrugged again. “We feared for our lives.”

“But you never bothered to call me or warn Izzy about the threat? Guess you weren't as concerned about your dear, sweet half niece as one would imagine.” I gave a bitter laugh. “Was this person—the one who made the threat—the same one who trashed your place?”

The twins spoke in unison: “We got out just in time.”

They looked so earnest that the hackles on the back of my neck swirled with electricity. Did they think I was born yesterday? Yet something had spooked them. Why else would they want me off the case?

“So you see why you can't look for Isabella anymore, right?” Clayton asked when I remained silent.

“I will find Izzy.” I paused, my eyes boring into each of theirs. “I made her a promise and I will damn well keep it.” A grin spread over my lips as I glanced at each twin. “Even if it costs both of your lives. Now take me to the Fairy Council.”

“But Blue—”

“Right now!”

They both jumped to attention, flitting down the hallway as fast as their wings could carry them. I took off after them, crawling at my top speed of a little less than two miles an hour. My head bounced along the ceiling, nearly scalping me. I slunk down even farther. I'd lose a good two inches of height and half a head of hair before I caught up with the twins. Damn it.

I rounded a corner where the twins had disappeared, and suddenly the corridor opened up into a normal, human-sized room. A round table sat in the middle, surrounded by seven grumpy-looking dwarfs.

I pulled to a stop, my mouth going slack. “Dwarfs? You've got to be fucking kidding me,” I said, eyeing each of the members of what made up the Fairy Council.

Peyton frowned. “We're an equal opportunity employer.”

“Uh-huh.” Taking a deep breath, I cleared my throat to gain the Council's attention. “If I might have a word . . .”

All seven dwarfs turned to face me, each looking more annoyed than the last at the interruption, except for the guy on the end, who looked just plain grumpy.

Another dwarf, this one seated in the middle, rose; not that I could tell he was actually standing, but I got the gist when the rest of the dwarfs focused on him. “Who dares to breech the Council's chambers?”

I held up a hand. “Hi. I'm Blue.”

His lips formed a deep frown. “Are we supposed to care about your disposition? This isn't a clinic, sir. We are doing God's work here.”

I glanced down at the papers littering the table in front of him for any sign of God's work at work. Considering most of the papers were maps with red stickers dotting the landscape, I had a feeling God was looking for a new place to live.

A picture lying in the center of the table on top of a pile of other photographs drew my attention. Isabella stared back at me from the two-dimensional image, along with the face of an older man, his beard going gray. The edges of the photo had started to yellow, but the picture was clearly of Izzy; a younger version perhaps, but there was no denying the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. So who was the man? And why did he look familiar?

I then noticed a piece of paper next to the photograph. It was handwritten, with the words
Top Secret
emblazoned over the page. None of this mattered now.

Not until I found Izzy.

“If you'll be on your way . . .” the head dwarf prompted when I continued to frown at the photograph.

“You don't understand,” I began, forcing my gaze from the image.

“Stop your mumbling,” he barked. “Speak up.”

“Yes, your honor,” I said to Deafy the Dwarf. “I was saying, blue is not my mood but rather my name.”

An explosion of chatter rose from the room. I caught a few words here and there. Apparently, from what I could gather, my reputation had preceded me.

And not in a good way.

I wondered if Henrick had told them about my tossing him to the Shadows. The little tattletale.

“It's him!” Deafy screamed. “Guards!”

Not good. Not good at all. “Take it easy,” I said, trying my best to look nonthreatening. “I just have a few questions and then I'm gone.”

“Guards!” he yelled again.

Tiny feet pounded outside, warning me that my time with the Council was nearly up. “Hell with it,” I said, kicking the door closed behind me. My hand flew to the doorknob, heating it with a couple thousand volts. When it turned red I released it, facing the Council again. “You will pay attention and answer my questions.”

Deafy dropped back in his chair, his face going from ruddy to white.

“That's better.” I rubbed my hands together with satisfaction. “I'm looking for the Tooth Fairy.”

The Council let out a collective breath. “No returns. No refunds,” they spouted in unison.

I held in a snort. “I'm not here for a refund. Isabella Davis's life is in extreme danger. If she's not already dead,” I added to emphasize the seriousness of the problem. “She's been captured by the Shadows. I need your help to—”

Deafy frowned. “You must be confused.”

“No,” I shook my head, “I saw her being attacked by a group of Shadows last night and this morning she was gone.”

“And the Council should care . . . why?”

“Are you kidding me?” I slammed my fist down on the table in front of the main dwarf. “You're stockpiling teeth like there's no tomorrow, and when I say I'm going to save the one fairy able to get more teeth for whatever evilness you assholes have planned, you act like you don't care? I'm not buying it. You need the Tooth Fairy.”

“Yes, we do.”

“All right, then,” I said, relieved to finally be getting somewhere with these nonwinged-but-still-a-bunch-of-bastards bastards. “So tell me what you can about—”

Deafy interrupted me with a shake of his fuzzy head. “You misunderstand. We do need the Tooth Fairy, but the Tooth Fairy is not Isabella Davis. Henrick Wingsglow is the Tooth Fairy. He was elected three days ago. Ask anyone.”

Before I could question him further the door crashed inward, wood flying in all directions, and in marched twenty or so fairies dressed in black. The guards had arrived, armed to the teeth with sharpened canines. “Easy, boys,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “No one needs to get hurt.”

“Take him to the dungeon,” Deafy ordered, pounding his fist on the table. The guards took a few steps toward me, their canines at the ready.

I rubbed my hands together as my adrenaline peaked. Blue sparks flickered from my fingertips as power rocketed through my body. I was ready for whatever these winged demons had in store.

“Wait.” A green-winged fairy stepped forward, his arms bulging with tiny muscles.

“Jonas?” Deafy pointed to the green-winged fairy. “What's the meaning of this? You know as well as I do the danger—”

“Please, sir, if I could have a word?” Jonas the green-winged fairy ran as fast as his legs could carry him toward the head dwarf.

Deafy leaned down, and for a full minute the fairy whispered in what I assumed was his good ear. When he finished Deafy looked up at me. “Guards,” he said, “please make sure Mr. Reynolds finds his way safely home. We wouldn't want anything to happen to such a vital, upstanding member of the community.”