The Fairyland Murders (14 page)

“B
lue, Blue, Blue.” Damien took a step forward, his outline shimmering and then hardening into a human form. He looked just as douchey as before; maybe more so with ten-thousand-dollar sunglasses covering his dark eyes. “You've been naughty.”

Had to give it up to her. Fucking Bo Peep had set me up, sold me out to Damien and his shadowy soldiers. I'd make sure to return the favor.

If I made it out of there alive.

Sadly, by the look in Damien's eyes when he removed his sunglasses, my odds of surviving the next ten minutes, let alone long enough to sheer Bo Peep, were slim at best.

I considered blowing a hole in the swirl of blackness in front of me with my really big gun. I was bound to take out at least one or two of the Shadows before they got me.

“I wouldn't try it,” Damien said. Before I could stop him, he knocked the gun away with his sleeved arm and smashed his fist into my face. I ducked in time, catching a few knuckles as they glanced off my temple. A burst of electricity sparked from my face to his hand, which gave me a small sense of satisfaction when he yelped. Very small, considering the stinging in my cheek and the fact that my really big gun now lay at my feet.

To avoid his second blow, this one thrown with accuracy and extra anger, I jumped back a step, smashing into the iron fence behind me, nearly toppling it and myself in the process.

No way would I win against this many Shadows, not without my really big gun or a pissed-off pink-winged fairy. Buying some time to come up with a better plan than going full-on bug zapper and launching my body at the impenetrable darkness circling me, I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay. You win. Let's talk this out.”

The side of Damien's face kicked up in a half smile. “I'm not stupid, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Worth a try.”

He chuckled. “Indeed.”

“Tell me this,” I said, watching his face closely. “How does Isabella fit in this game? Why did you kidnap her?”

A flash of anger swept over him. “This is far from a game, Mr. Reynolds. Lives are at stake.” The rage vanished, replaced with cold confidence. “Yours for one.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Take it however you like.”

“What happened to us becoming best buds?” I asked with a sneer. “I thought we had something special.”

His eyebrow rose. “You dare mock me?”

He had a point. Mocking an already annoyed Shadow with the power to rip me to shreds wasn't the brightest move. But damn it, the guy bugged me. What happened to all the good villains? The really ugly ones who gave damsels a reason to be distressed? Today's bad guys looked like they'd walked off the pages of
Fairy Homes & Gnomes
all fluff, no substance. How could I take a threat from someone so pretty seriously? It was like taking financial advice from Bankruptcy the Dwarf.

I smiled, trying to look at least a bit apologetic. “Why don't we start over? You tell me what it is you want and then we can both go on our way. No bloodshed. And everyone lives happily ever after.”

“You know what I seek,” he said. “
It's
what you want too.”

Considering my current desires, at least those I'd willingly admit, Izzy topped the list. Then came curing my electrical curse, finding Mervin's magic pea and Penelopee's sex tape, and, finally, I wouldn't turn down a forty-year-old bottle of scotch and a pack of smokes.

But I had a feeling Damien shared only one of my desires. He wanted Izzy, wanted her back for some nefarious purpose, to use her some way in his war against the fairies. A war I suspected the fairies weren't quite ready to fight.

No way would I tell them where she was. The Shadows would have to kill me first. My smile twisted into something much darker. Damien wisely took a step back, motioning his followers forward. “Have it your way,” he said. Four Shadows, taking shape from the darkness, moved toward me, each one larger than the last.

Electricity bubbled under my skin as adrenaline burned through my bloodstream.

This was it.

I rubbed my hands together, faster and faster.

The Shadow on my left pulled a wicked-looking dagger from his overcoat. He smiled, raising it above his head, ready to strike. Sunlight glinted off the blade, blinding me for a moment.

“Don't make this harder on yourself,” Damien said. “Where is—”

Zap.

Electricity exploded from my every pore, arcing over my head, frying everything in its path. The wall of Shadows surrounding me screamed, running for cover, but it was too late.

I'd gone electromagnetic.

O
ne moment I was standing in the park, electrocuting everything in sight, and the next I found myself stumbling up the stairs to my apartment, having no recollection of how I'd gotten there. The last thing I remembered was the violent jolt of electricity ripping through my body. And then the pain. Pain like I'd never experienced before. It stole my ability to scream.

Then there was nothing.

And now I was home. Safe. For the moment. I wasn't sure what time it was. Day had long ago turned to night by the dim glow of the 40-watt bulbs in the hallway. I took the stairs slowly, my body refusing my brain's simplest commands.

Halfway up, I slid down the wall, resting while my heart slammed wildly in my chest. I really needed to cut down on the smokes. And electrocutions, apparently.

After ten minutes I regained my balance, climbing the rest of the flight of stairs to my apartment. When I reached the top step I froze. My apartment door stood open. The hair on the back of my neck rose as electrical current cycled through me.

In a flash my exhaustion vanished, replaced with a hit of adrenaline so strong my hands shook. I crept forward, searching my pockets for my really big gun and not finding it. Damn. I must've left it at the park.

At the edge of the doorway I listened for any sign of trouble. Not a peep sounded from inside. Not good. When I'd left this morning Izzy was asleep on the couch and now I wondered if she was dead. Murdered on my watch because I'd failed to protect her. Again.

My heart swelled with fear, thumping loud enough for the wicked witch down the hallway to hear. I took a calming breath, which didn't help in the least. I had to face whatever was inside. I owed it to Izzy. I kicked the door all the way open, hoping to draw the fire of whoever waited inside.

Nothing happened.

I stepped into the room, keeping my back against the wall. Everywhere I looked lay destruction. The couch, minus my pink-winged fairy, bled yellow stuffing along the floor. Clothes, blankets, and glass bottles were scattered everywhere.

I glanced toward my bedroom. Izzy's suitcase sat on the floor where I'd left it after my search. But someone had ripped the contents apart. Lacy bits lay strewn around without care.

Amid all the devastation, what bothered me most wasn't the mindless violence and destruction but what wasn't there.

Isabella.

My heart pounded even harder as I walked through the mess, stopping just outside the bedroom.

Something warned me not to go in there.

Ignoring my gut, I stepped inside and stifled a shriek. There, partially obscured by my open closet door, hung a pair of wings.

I
t took me a long moment to realize the wings weren't pink. When that bit of knowledge sank in my breathing returned to normal. The fairy hanging in my rafters wasn't Izzy.

So who the hell was it?

I took a step forward, my gaze fastened on the dead fairy strung up like a puppet with a roll of dental floss; Izzy's floss, by the sweet scent of mint tickling my nostrils.

I used my elbow to turn the corpse, careful to avoid leaving prints or, worse, microwaving the dead fairy. Surprisingly, the purple-winged fairy was a Tooth Fairy.

Just not my Tooth Fairy.

Instead, Henrick Wingsglow swayed back and forth in the gentle breeze coming from the newly broken window. The Fairy Council would not be pleased.

I smiled at the thought.

My humor vanished quickly enough when I got a look at Henrick's bluish face. His mouth was open wide, showing off bloody gums and missing teeth. All thirty-two of those shiny white chompers gone, ripped away. On the floor sat a sprinkle of white powder. I knelt down for a closer look.

I ran my finger across the substance and touched it to my tongue. Fairy dust. I spit the dust out, wiped my hands on my jeans, and rose to my full height.

This was bad. Not only was Henrick dead in my apartment but Izzy was nowhere to be found. In her weakened condition, I doubted she could go far unless she had help, in the form of a killer with a sweet tooth for Tooth Fairies.

A gasp sounded behind me. I spun to face the threat, surprised to see Izzy, alive and in all her pink-winged glory. Though she looked even worse than she had earlier in the day. Her hair hung in her pale face, her eyes red-rimmed with dark circles underneath. I patted my pocket where the vial sat, safely stuffed in a candy wrapper.

“My God,” she said, her hand covering her mouth. “You didn't . . . ?”

I chuckled. “Of course not.”

“What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” I said. My eyes narrowed on her face. “When I left you were asleep on the couch . . .”

“You think I had something to do with this?” she asked, her face sparkling with life for the first time that day. “Are you insane?”

Probably. But I didn't bother to answer.

She let out a snort. “For your information I was over at Gizelle's, drinking weak tea and listening to her speak to the dead nonstop for the last four hours. Because of you! Besides, why would I kill Henrick?” She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her skin for warmth. “I couldn't care less if he was the Tooth Fairy. He and his toothy minions mean nothing to me.”

I motioned to the empty roll of dental floss on the floor. Her dental floss. Henrick had been convinced she wanted to kill him, like she supposedly had the seven fairies and Barry before him, and now he was dead. I'd be stupid to ignore his warning.

On the other hand, Izzy hadn't shot at herself the first night we met, or attacked herself inside her apartment. Someone definitely wanted her dead. I was missing a big piece of the puzzle, a piece that just might get us both killed.

Our conversation seemed to sap what little energy Izzy had left. She slid down the wall, pulling her knees to her chin. Again the desire to protect her nearly overwhelmed me. They say a sucker is born every minute.

Apparently that baby was born Blue.

I took the vial from my pocket and unwrapped it slowly. Izzy glanced up, her mouth tight. Holding the vial to the light, I twirled it, watching as it sparkled and gleamed.

Her gaze locked on the vial, her hands trembling with sickness and need. “How did you . . . ?”

“Know that you're dentin sick?” I tossed her the crushed bits of top-of-the-line molars, which she caught in midair. “You're not my first fairy.”

In order to live, a fairy needs to consume dentin; otherwise, they decay and eventually die. I'd seen it happen a few times to outcast fairies. It wasn't pretty. This explained the importance of the Tooth Fairy, the one fairy responsible for collecting enough teeth to keep all of Fairyland alive.

Normally.

Since Izzy refused to be the Tooth Fairy, she was fairy non grata in Fairyland. That meant she had to go to outside sources for her dentin fix, a dark and dangerous place where for the right price anything was for sale. Apparently, her source had dried up after she went into hiding and she found herself dentin sick.

With Henrick dead, and no clear heir apparent except for the fairy in front of me, I wondered how long it would be until the rest of Fairyland suffered a similar fate. Was that the killer's plan all along? Destroy the Tooth Fairy, thereby destroying the entire fairy population?

Considering the stockpile of teeth at Fairy Central, I'd bet the fairies suspected the same thing: that whoever was killing the fairies wanted to destroy them all. Damien came to mind. After all, no one else besides a Shadow had a reason to destroy the entire fairy population.

Izzy jammed her pinky into the powdered tooth, scooping up a bit and sucking it from her fingertip. A swell of heat that had nothing to do with my electrostatic body swirled over my nerve endings, drawing me from my musings.

With supreme will I cooled my libido. The dead fairy hanging a few feet away helped. A little.

For a few minutes we sat in silence, the only sound the wind from my busted window through Henrick's drooping wings. A flush rose on Izzy's cheeks as the dentin worked its magic and she went from looking half dead to her former striking self. Her face flushed, blood returning to her pale cheeks. When she was fully restored she closed her eyes for a long moment and then opened them. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“What now?” She waved at the corpse. “Should we call the cops? Detective Locks and her partner?”

I snorted. “Do you think they'll believe it's a coincidence we found Jack the Tooth Ripper's last two victims?”

Besides, covering up Henrick's murder was in our best interest. As long as everyone, except for the sicko ganking fairies, believed Henrick was alive and still the reigning Tooth Fairy, the pressure to collect teeth was off Izzy. Let the Council wonder what happened to their golden boy.

A smile flickered over her lips. “No, they probably won't see it as a coincidence. But what other choice do we have? We can't let him rot in your bedroom.”

I gazed about the room, finally pausing on Izzy's empty suitcase amid piles of broken furniture and torn clothes. I held up my hands, measuring the width and depth of the suitcase. My own smile formed.

“No,” she said. “Absolutely not.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We are not hiding his body in my suitcase.”

An hour later Henrick was securely fastened inside Izzy's suitcase, mostly, with the exception of the edge of his right wing, which stuck through an inch-long row of busted metal teeth. Izzy glanced from the suitcase to me, her face grim.

“It's for the best,” I promised.

She looked unconvinced.

Twenty minutes later I tossed the case, along with its fairy contents, into the black water of the New Never City Harbor. It floated on the current for a few feet until a wave smacked into it, toppling it. The case turned on its side, bubbled twice, and started sinking into the depths of the blackened water. The edge of Henrick's wing fluttered, as if saying one last good-bye, before disappearing forever into the icy water.