The Lady in Pink - Deadly Ever After 2 (16 page)

W
hen I shared my theory with Izzy that James had planned to murder me that day but instead had accidently killed himself, she looked shocked, and then her expression grew murderous. “That little prick,” she yelled. “We gave him a job and he repays us by trying to kill you?”

I smiled at her outrage. “Not defending his actions, but in all fairness, we didn’t exactly pay him.”

“He was getting college credit!”

Apparently college credit and on-the-job experience hadn’t been enough for James. I suspected he’d taken to cold-blooded killing for cash as a way to afford the finer things. He must not have been very good at his murderous profession since he lived in the pigsty of a frat house in Fairyland. Not to mention his accidently electrocuting himself at my apartment.

I had to give it to Detective Locks after all.

James’s death really was an accident.

Just one that happened in the course of his attempting to murder me.

If what I thought was true, I needed to figure out who had paid him to kill me in the first place. The obvious answer was someone connected to my early life. Someone who wanted to keep my past in the past. James must’ve told them about the file, and when he failed to kill me, James’s benefactor had decided to take matters into his or her own hands, burning up my office and Izzy’s brownstone until he or she finally destroyed the file. Now I was the only obstacle in erasing the past.

I turned to Izzy, curious about how far this rabbit hole went. “How did you know I was with Bo Peep the day you found us?”

“Someone left a message with Doreen before she locked up the office for the night,” she said, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “It said something about you being in danger and gave me an address. Until I saw you and Peep, I had no idea it was hers.”

A part of me cursed her stupidity while the other part appreciated her concern. I opted for the former part. “So you rushed out of the building without a second thought?”

She exhaled sharply, a sneer curling her lips. “I thought you were in trouble. Besides, after you ditched Right and Left in Fairyland I had no reason to doubt the caller.”

Now my forehead puckered.

“What?” Izzy asked, her hands clenched in front of her. “What is it?”

“Who’s Doreen?”

“Our receptionist, you idiot.”

“Right.” In my defense, like many of our other employees, Doreen had been working for us for only three months. Until we’d solved the missing-jewel-encrusted-mittens case we just hadn’t needed the extra help. I frowned, thinking James had come aboard around the same time. As had Alice. If I remembered correctly, they’d both come highly recommended.

“Why?” Izzy asked.

“Why what?”

She rolled her big, almost violet-colored eyes. “Why did you ask about that day? Do you know something you’re not sharing with the rest of the class?”

I ran my gloved hand over my chin. “Why send you out of the office?”

Izzy shrugged. “So I wouldn’t catch them in the act?”

While her answer made complete sense, it just didn’t sit right. Whoever this was had already paid James to kill me in cold blood, so why the sudden squeamishness at a little B and E?

Unless they wanted Izzy to be safely away.

“C
ome on, Blue,” Peyton squeaked. “Why would we send someone to kill you?”

“This time, you mean?” I tightened my grip around his throat, the stitches of my leather gloves leaving marks along his neck like a pitcher got when he gripped a baseball. Considering that he and his brother had tried pretty damn hard to murder me a little more than a year ago, I felt completely justified in choking him a little longer. Unfortunately Izzy didn’t quite see things my way.

“Damn it, Blue.” She swatted at my arm with one wing while doing her best to free Peyton from my grip with her hands. “Let him go.”

“No,” I said in what sounded like a reasonable tone to me.

Izzy’s affected gasp suggested I’d missed the mark. “Don’t talk to me like that,” she said, smacking me again, this time with her hand. “Now, let him go before I . . . before I . . .”

“Nag me to death?”

Her gasp was even louder this time, and very real. I winced but didn’t lessen my grip on Peyton. The little bastard had tried to kill me again. And burned up my office. I just knew it. He was somehow connected to the mystery surrounding my birth and I would damn well find out how. I squeezed even harder as his face grew a nice bluish hue.

“Think about it, Blue,” Izzy was saying. “If Peyton was behind this, why would he set my brownstone on fire?”

I blinked a few times, glancing from Right and Left to the former Tooth Fairy.

“With me in it.”

And with those words my theory crumbled into a pile, as did Peyton once I released him. He fell forward, but Right grabbed his arm before he hit the floor. I frowned, my gaze on Izzy. She was right. Sure the fairies would love to see me dead, but they would never risk hurting their beloved former Tooth Fairy. Someone else had started the fire at my office as well as the one at Izzy’s brownstone. It was time to face the truth.

Only two people had reason to destroy my file.

And I shared 50 percent of my DNA with each.

 

While I never had parents, I was fairly sure most didn’t go around trying to murder their electrified offspring. I slumped down farther into my couch, my gaze unfocused, much like the rest of me. I didn’t want to believe it. But I couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. The only people with reason to keep me from learning about my birth were the people actively involved in it. The fire at the maternity ward the night of my birth should’ve been clue enough. And yet, I’d buried my bluish head, slipping further and further into denial.

Until only one option remained.

Nature held true.

I was a monster born of monsters.

“Blue,” Izzy called, her fingers lightly brushing my forehead. Her touch felt like heaven, until the snap, crackle, and pop of electricity buzzing through her reached my ears.

I pushed her away, finally focusing on her face. “Leave me alone.” I took a shallow breath. “Please.”

She shook her head. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

“Too late,” she whispered. “It’s part of the package. I worry about you, and you do the same for me. That’s what makes us such a good team.”

I didn’t want Izzy on my team. Not now. The more distance between us, the better. Especially since one or both of my parents were willing to kill to keep me from the truth. If anything ever happened to Izzy . . . A sudden, terrifying thought occurred to me. I wasn’t the only loose end in need of being tied. There was another person who knew the truth.

Christine Connors Quick.

And I’d led them right to her.

“M
s. Quick,” I yelled to the wide, winged orderly. “Where is she?”

He blinked, a rush of emotions crossing his face as he held out a hand to stop me from entering the locked ward at the Shady Wings Nursing Home. The resulting shock when his hand made contact with the exposed skin on my forearm sent him back two steps, but he stayed on his feet. Barely.

Not bothering to wait for the door to be unlocked, I kicked it right below the lock, forcing the door open under the force. I ran through the splintered doorway in search of Christine. Izzy followed me, along with her fairyguards, Right and Left, who, much to her dismay, had been stuck like fairy glue to Izzy since the fire at her brownstone. She yelled for me to stop. “Blue,” she screamed. “Please. Be careful.”

I ignored her warning, my mind focused on one thing and one thing only. I had to save Christine Connors. Nothing else mattered.

But I was too late.

I pulled to a stop in front of Christine’s now empty room. All the Post-it notes that once covered every surface were gone.

And I knew.

I was too late.

A fairy in a white lab coat appeared behind me. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I slowly turned around, my glare as hot as the summer sun. “She’s dead,” I said, no doubt in my voice. “When?”

“Yesterday,” the winged nurse said. “We found her on the floor. She must’ve fallen out of bed and hit her head. There was nothing we could do . . .”

I stifled a snort, my body humming with violence. A convenient accident. The arsonist’s MO. I wondered if Christine had recognized my parents as they snuffed the life out of her. I thought back to Christine’s description of my mother and her shimmering golden hair. Was it possible that the mysterious woman the Ferns had claimed to see was in fact my very own mother? Had she and James sat in the darkened bar, plotting my demise? I knew some animals ate their young ...

My body burned with electricity at the thought. Blowing out a harsh breath, I did my best to relax before Shady Wings became Scorched Wings. The last thing I needed was another fire.

“I’m glad you came,” the fairy nurse was saying. “We searched and searched for Ms. Quick’s next of kin—”

“He’s not—” Izzy began.

“Not blaming Shady Wings for Ms. Quick’s death,” I said cutting off her denial. “Now, if you would provide us with her effects we’ll be on our way.” The nurse snapped to attention, nearly running down the hallway to do my biding. When she disappeared around the corner, Izzy spun to face me. “What was that all about?”

“Christine never married, never had children.” I gave a sad smile. “She has no living heirs. The nursing home would just donate her clothes and toss the rest of her things in the trash.”

“So?” Izzy asked, her forehead wrinkling.

I pictured my future, a lonely old man electrocuting my caregiver when I slapped her on the ass. Oddly the image didn’t make me as sad as it should have. In fact, it was the first time in a very long time that I considered living to a ripe, lecherous old age. Maybe Izzy’s constant nagging about my smoking, drinking, and fried (as in frying) food habits wasn’t a bad thing. I shot her a small smile, returning to the topic at hand. “Christine might have left a clue somewhere in her mementos.”

She closed her eyes and then slowly opened them. “Blue, I know how bad you feel, but you need to let this—”

“Here you are,” the winged nurse said, passing me a box filled with clothes, thousands of Post-it notes, and something that smelled an awful lot like the dead. I took a shallow breath through my mouth as I thanked the nurse.

“I don’t like this, Blue,” Izzy whispered as we started to leave. “Not one bit.”

That made two of us. Three of us if I counted the dead woman whose possessions I was stealing.

Hours later, day slowly shifted to night, but I didn’t notice. I was too engrossed in the puzzle of Christine Connors Quick’s life. Shuffling through her Post-it notes was like going a little crazy. Nothing felt solid. Or real. I found myself doubting things I’d believed true. I wondered if this was how Christine had spent the last part of her life. If so, maybe ending her suffering wasn’t as tragic as I’d thought.

“Blue,” Izzy called.

I glanced up, focusing on Izzy for the first time since we’d arrived at my apartment. I set down the tiny, charred-at-both-ends hospital wristband with the words “. . . ittle Baby Bl . . .” and rubbed my eyes. Exhaustion filled me like a wave. I was tired. Tired of searching for clues to my past. Tired of losing. Just plain fucking tired. “Izzy,” I said, “if you’re here to bitch at me, please, not now.”

Izzy took a step back, as if wounded by my words. “Is that how you see me?”

When I said nothing, she slowly sat down on the couch. “I’m sorry, Blue. I’m just so worried about you. About what all of this means.” She spread her arms wide across the mounds of Post-it notes and knickknacks. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “About how you’re going to react to whatever it is you find. Please, stop this. Before it’s too late. The past is just that. It doesn’t matter. Not to me.”

“I wish it was that easy.” Not now. Not when those who bore me had other, much more murderous, ideas. I no longer cared as much about finding the truth behind my birth. My only thoughts were of finding the monsters responsible for it.

She gave me a small smile. “It is that easy. All you have to do is forget about what happened or didn’t happen thirty years ago and focus on what you want for a future.”

I slowly rose from my crouched position on the floor, considering her words. I did want a future, but I wasn’t sure it was in the cards. Not now. But in that moment, with Izzy’s eyes staring up at me, I wanted to reach out to her. To feel her skin against mine. Not in a lustful way—which, let’s face it, was my go-to reaction—but to feel, for once, the comforting touch of another, without sending her into convulsive shock, of course. I wanted to be free, for once, from my curse.

My body seemed to have a mind of its own as I lifted my ungloved hand toward her. Thankfully I regained control and pulled back in time. But it was too late. Izzy’s fingers clutched mine, the heat of her skin soothing the hurt away. My gaze flew to our collective hands. Skin to skin. Only natural, normal heat between us. That normal, natural heat quickly morphed into electricity, but not the kind I normally possessed. The electricity of longing and desire.

Izzy’s lips opened slightly and I took full advantage. I tugged her forward, her lush, soft, winged body falling against mine. Taking my other hand, I pressed my thumb against her chin, both asking and demanding. Her mouth complied with my demand. And I tasted her mouth for the second time in a year.

The kiss was soft at first, both of us hesitant. Then the fire of desire took control, and the kiss heated, my hands seemingly groping every part of her body, and yet, our mouths never lost contact. I lost myself in the intoxicating scent of fairy dust and fairy. My knee slid up her inner thigh, opening her body for mine. The electric thrill sent my senses reeling.

And then with a loud crackle, Izzy went flying across the room.

Luckily her wings softened her landing, though she sat there dazed for a few minutes. I ran to her, pulling to a stop before touching her again. “Are you all right?” I asked, fear turning my question into a growl.

She blinked up at me. “I saw stars.”

“What can I say? I have that effect on women.” Probably the wrong thing to say to the woman I’d nearly killed, but Izzy wasn’t any woman. She was one of a kind. The thought left me shaken. How was it that I could touch Izzy for a few minutes without harm, like I had a year ago in Penelopee’s elevator? What was it about her? Or was it something with me? Something to do with my curse?

Fuck the danger. I would fight till the bitter end to learn the truth. I would never give up.

Not when the cost was so great.

I glanced at Izzy, who was slowly gaining her feet, and then at the pile of Post-it notes littering the floor. I knelt down and went back to work, more determined than ever to find my parents and the cure for my electrical curse.

“Blue,” Izzy said once she regained her senses. I didn’t look up from the paper in my hand. “Blue,” she said again, louder. I continued to ignore her. What was there to say? Until I found a cure, I had nothing to offer, unlike Clark Boyer or other normal guys. Izzy deserved more than a few fumbling minutes once a year.

She deserved better than the likes of me.

“Fine,” she said after a few minutes of silence. “I’m going to give Right and Left the rest of the night off and then I’m going to bed. I assume you’re sleeping on the couch?” She paused, the husky spoken offer nearly my undoing. When I didn’t react, she slowly nodded, walking to my bedroom door–like curtain. “I guess that’s it, then.”

And it was, as she pushed the curtain aside with more force than necessary and disappeared inside. I watched her walk away through veiled eyes, the burning in my chest unabated. With renewed passion I returned to my quest.