by E. D. Baker
This book is dedicated to David Robinson,
a wonderful friend as well as the best stand-in for
Santa Claus I ever met, and to my dear friend
Dorian Robinson, our Mrs. Claus.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Acknowledgments
Also by E. D. Baker
Chapter 1
Cory crouched on the windowsill, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light in the room. She could hear the child’s slow, even breathing, so she was certain that he was asleep. Using the lessons she’d learned during her internship in the Tooth Fairy Guild, she made a map in her mind of everything in the bedroom. The bed was against the wall to her right, the nightstand was on the far side, the rocking chair was against the wall to her left, and the dresser was beside the window. A stuffed animal lay on the bed, and the boy was curled up on his side, facing away from the nightstand.
Good, thought Cory. If the parents had put his tooth on the nightstand, there was less chance that she’d wake him if he was facing away when she took the tooth. If it was on the pillow … well, that was a different story.
Cory flew to the nightstand, hoping his parents had set the tooth there, where it would be easy to grab. The butterfly-like wings she had when she was tiny created a flickering light when they beat fast enough to keep her airborne, lighting her way as she searched for the tooth. It was rumored that once in a while, the light woke a child, but that had never happened to Cory.
Darting over the surface of the nightstand, Cory searched for the tooth, but it wasn’t there, which meant it was either under the pillow or beside it. She saw it then, lying next to the pillow, inches from the child’s cheek. Holding her breath, she flew down and reached for the tooth. Suddenly, a flash of movement caught her eye and what she had thought was a stuffed animal sprang at her. Stifling an involuntary shriek, she darted out of the creature’s path as it landed where she had been an instant before. The creature bounded after her, jumping from the mattress to the child’s head to the pillow to the other side of the bed.
The little boy woke up screaming. Cory heard shouting in a room somewhere in the apartment. She flew to the curtain, hiding in its folds as feet thudded down the hallway and the door burst open. There was a click and the ceiling light went on. Cory peeked around the edge of the curtain, her wings still and her light no longer shining. A disheveled-looking man and woman had hurried into the room. While the woman pulled the covers off the still-screaming boy, the man stood by the bed, looking around the room as if expecting to find an intruder.
As the boy quieted, the story finally came out. Something horrible had landed on his head.
“I told you we shouldn’t let him keep the ferret in his room!” the woman told the man in an accusing voice. “It got out of its cage again. Close the door before it gets out of the room and we have to search the whole apartment.”
“If it hasn’t already,” grumbled the man as he shut the door.
Cory ducked her head behind the curtain when the man glanced at the window. She could hear him moving around the room, searching for the ferret.
“Look, it’s going to be light out soon. I have to get up in an hour,” the man said.
The little boy scrambled to his knees and pointed at the floor, shouting, “There he is!”
Cory felt the curtains move as the ferret launched himself at them. It must have seen me when I peeked out, she thought, trying not to budge. The curtains jerked, almost revealing Cory. There was a shout and a small squeak.
“Blast it. The thing bit me!” said the man.
The footsteps receded. The cage door creaked open, then slammed shut. A metallic rasping sound told her that the latch had been closed.
“There,” said the man. “He’s in his cage. Can we go back to bed now for the fifty-seven minutes we have left before it’s time to get up?”
“You go. I’ll be along in a minute,” the woman said as she tucked the covers around the little boy again.
Cory peeked out from behind the curtain. She waited as the mother calmed her son, murmuring in a quiet voice until his breathing became slow and even again. After the woman kissed his cheek, turned out the light, and left the room, Cory continued to wait. When she was sure it was safe, she flew back to where she had last seen the tooth. Just as she had feared, it was gone. Someone had knocked it off the bed, which meant that it had to be on the floor. The father had walked all around the room, so it had probably been ground into the carpet. Somehow the night had just gone from bad to worse.
Cory flew to where she thought the tooth might have landed and began to look around, but it was nowhere to be seen. She could hear the ferret in its cage, scrabbling to get out. Great, she thought, something else to worry about.
After searching the surface of the carpet for the tooth, Cory decided that it was time to go deeper. It’s got to be here somewhere, she thought as she shoved her arms into the pile carpet. Maybe it was over this way …
Cory, a tooth-fairy-in-training, had been collecting teeth by herself for over a month. Of all the bad nights she had lived through, this had to be the worst. She groaned as she thought about her evening, then froze and held her breath until she was sure that the child hadn’t heard her. When he didn’t stir, Cory continued burrowing through the carpet.
Her first stop that night had been at the home of a little girl who had a bad cold and couldn’t fall asleep. Cory had waited for the longest time until she knew it was safe to start searching for the tooth. At the next house she’d had to lure a cat off the bed so she could look under the pillow. Then there was the little boy who’d fallen asleep with his tooth clutched in his fist. And now this!
Cory clenched her teeth, something every tooth fairy knew you should never do. But this was so frustrating! She should have been on to the next house long before this. In fact, she was so far behind she didn’t think she’d catch up that night. Touching something sticky that felt like a piece of old gummy worm, she changed direction. It was amazing what was hidden in the depths of people’s carpets that looked so clean from above.
When an insect half as big as her fist scurried across her bare leg, Cory shuddered. Apparently, there were other things hidden in this rug besides candy and a tooth! She was about to crawl out of the carpet to take another look from above when her hand closed on something cold and hard. It felt like … Yes! She’d found it!
Delighted, Cory tucked her prize into her collecting bag. After crawling free of the carpet, she pulled a coin out of her gift bag and spread her wings. She had almost reached the nightstand beside the bed when a car honked just outside the window. The boy rubbed his eyes and sat up, facing the door. “Mommy!” he cried.
In a flash, Cory dropped the coin onto the pillow and darted to the window. Flitting behind the curtain, she pressed one hand against the cold glass and, in the softest voice she could manage, whispered the secret fairy words that would allow her to pass through: “Letame passame.”
The glass seemed to dissolve under her hand and she floated through as if there was nothing in front of her. A moment later, Cory stood on the window ledge, wondering if she ha
d time to go to the next house. She decided against it when the man at the newsstand on the corner opened the grate that covered his stand at night. The city was waking up, which meant that it was time for her to go home. Although it wasn’t light out yet, it would be soon, and she was supposed to be out of the human world long before then.
“I hate this job,” Cory muttered as she darted away from the window ledge and down the street.
The passage to her world was only a few blocks away, but the last few blocks always seemed the longest. She hid behind a lamppost when a police car drove past, not wanting the humans to see the flickering light of her wings. When it had gone by, she sped to the corner, pausing to see if there were any humans on the next street. The lights were on in the coffee shop, and she could already see people at the counter. She had to hurry before there were more people around.
“Mother promised that being a tooth fairy would be exciting and fun and rewarding. Maybe it is for her,” Cory grumbled, “but I can think of a hundred other things I’d rather do.”
Darting around a trash can, Cory turned into the alley between the Chinese restaurant and the flower shop. Long ago, this passage to the land of the fey stood in an open field between two majestic oaks. The oaks were still there because the passage’s magic made even the most ardent developer feel compelled to leave them alone, but they were hidden now, tucked away in a small courtyard that the neighboring buildings shared. The alley was an incidental route into the courtyard, with a stone wall at the end that blocked most people from seeing anything except the trees’ upper branches. But the fey knew about it and used it even more than the stray cats that lived in the neighborhood.
Cory was partway down the alley when the dogs saw her. The leader was a mongrel with two broken teeth and mangy bald patches in its fur, but its eyes were still good and it lunged at her when she was thinking more about how much she hated her job than about what was going on around her. Startled when the dog’s teeth grazed her foot, she shrieked and beat her wings in a frenzy, nearly flying into the side of a Dumpster. The pack of dogs came after her then, barking and snarling and snapping at her when they drew close enough.
Cory was momentarily deafened when the lead dog barked so close behind her that its smelly breath washed over her. Terrified, she glanced back and didn’t see the box until she was already in it. She turned around, her wings brushing the cardboard, flitting to the side when the lead dog thrust its head into the box. Saliva splattered her when the dog barked again. Cory set her hand on the cardboard, prepared to say the secret fairy words so she could pass through it if she had to, but just then she heard the sound of a scuffle and the dog jerked backward with a yelp.
Cory held her breath as the dogs tore out of the alley. When everything grew quiet, she peeked out of the box and saw a hulking figure dressed all in black.
This is worse than the dogs, Cory thought when she saw the man towering over her. He stood over seven feet tall with rough, craggy features and long, snarled black hair. One of his eyes was swollen shut and his bottom lip was cut and bleeding. Cory’s heart was racing, but as she looked at the man, a breeze blew past, carrying the man’s scent to her. He smelled like dirt and wet moss, just like some fey might smell, and it made her look past his scary face and see him.
“Blue, is that you?” she asked, emerging from the box.
“Hi, Cory,” he replied in a rough, gravelly voice.
Relieved, Cory fluttered closer. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Johnny Blue was her boyfriend’s best friend. Although she didn’t know him very well, she did know that she didn’t need to be afraid.
“Walker had an extra-heavy load tonight and he asked me to help. We should hurry. It’ll be light soon.”
“I know. You’re right. I just want to say thank you. For taking care of those dogs, I mean.”
The big man grinned at her, looking even more frightening than before. “You’re welcome.” His cracked lip started to bleed more heavily and he patted at his mouth with a big, beefy hand.
“Here,” she said, taking a handkerchief from her pocket. She dropped the tiny speck of fabric and he caught it. The moment it touched his hand, it grew into a piece of cloth the size a human could use.
“See you around,” Cory said as Blue patted his mouth. She turned back to wave before darting over the top of the wall into the courtyard. Glancing down, she saw that one of her slippers was torn, probably from the dog’s tooth. Thank goodness the Boogie Man saved me, she thought.
Chapter 2
Cory emptied her sack of teeth into the tooth counter and closed her eyes. This had been one of the worst collecting nights of her very short career, and she didn’t need to see the results to know that she’d brought back a paltry number of teeth.
Ping! The number four appeared on the counter, confirming just how disappointing Cory’s evening had been. She watched as the scale dumped the teeth into the tooth washer and the transparent lid closed with a muffled thump. Water gushed through a narrow reed into the clay bowl, mixing with tooth-washing powder. When it reached a line in the bowl, the water shut off and the little container began to roll back and forth on its rounded side, swishing the teeth like a mouth full of mouthwash. The little teeth clicked as they tumbled inside the swirling liquid, but the sound was too quiet. It would be louder if there were more teeth, Cory thought. I’m not going to make much for that.
A painful knot formed in her stomach. More than anything, Cory wanted a job where she could really help people. When she’d realized that being a tooth fairy wasn’t that kind of job, she’d decided to stick with it long enough to save some money. She and her mother didn’t get along very well, and Cory looked forward to moving out. Someday she hoped to save enough to get her own place, even if she had to share it with a roommate. Then she could get the kind of job she wanted and make a difference in people’s lives. At the rate she was earning money now, however, that might never happen. She was going to be stuck in a job she hated, living and arguing with her mother for the rest of her life!
“Whatcha doin’?” asked a flickering light as it fluttered through the open window.
“Hi, Daisy,” she said, glancing at her friend. “I just got home. I always take care of the teeth first thing.” Flying to the middle of the room, Cory landed on the floor, where she had plenty of space. Light shimmered around her as her gossamer wings disappeared and she returned to her normal, human size.
“I can’t stay long; I’m on my way to work,” Daisy said, hovering near Cory’s left ear. “I just stopped by to tell you that tonight’s rehearsal has been canceled. Skippy has a flock meeting and Olot’s got a sore throat. He won a roaring contest last night.”
“Good for him. Bad for us,” said Cory with a rueful smile.
Daisy fluttered closer to Cory. “You don’t look too good. What’s wrong?”
“I had a bad night. That’s all,” Cory said.
“Tell me about it,” said her friend.
“You had a bad night, too?”
“No, not at all. I mean I think you should tell me about it. I’ve been taking a correspondence course in empathy and they say it helps to talk about your woes. Sort of carhartic. Go ahead. I can count it as homework.”
“I think you mean cathartic, and I didn’t know flower fairies took empathy classes.”
“It’s continuing education. I thought it would be interesting. Go on. I’m listening. We have to practice being good listeners.”
Cory shrugged. “There isn’t much to say. I had a lousy night doing a job I hate.”
“I’m lucky,” said Daisy. “I grew up knowing that I was going to be a flower fairy, just like my parents and grandparents. I love my job and can’t imagine doing anything else. Tending flowers and helping them grow have to be the most rewarding things a fairy could do. It’s a lot of fun, too.”
“My mother has been telling me that I had to be a tooth fairy for as long as I can remember, and I still hate it.”
�
�At least you work the same hours as Walker.”
“That’s probably the only good thing about this job,” said Cory. “The job itself is next to useless. I collect teeth! What good is that doing anyone? Sure, witches used them in potions years ago, and some fairies made jewelry out of them, but hardly anyone needs them anymore. The only thing I want to do is help people and I’m sure not doing that now! Can you think of a more useless job than being a tooth fairy? And as far as jobs go, I make less than you do and I work longer hours and I have to go to the human world to do it. At least you get to stay in the land of the fey and work normal hours and have a job that means something.”
“Being a tooth fairy is one of the few jobs that lets you visit the human world,” said Daisy. “I know a lot of fairies who would love to see it.”
“Then let them! The human world is dirty and smelly and dangerous. I have to constantly hide so I don’t frighten the children or let the adults know that we exist. The animals there have no experience with fairies so they don’t respect us and half of them want to eat us. I’d much rather stay in the land of the fey, where I don’t have to hide and I can actually talk to people.”
“I like humans,” said Daisy. “One of my favorite old boyfriends was a human. He wasn’t one of those newcomers that a crazy wizard brought over illegally either. His ancestors came when the old fairy queen first lured humans to our world. Humans multiply like mosquitoes in a witch’s swamp and now they’re one of the biggest minorities around. Most of them are nice enough, but I can’t imagine living in a world where there was only one species. Think about it—humans are all pretty much alike with the same number of limbs and heads and digestive systems. Here you have fairies and dwarves and elves and gnomes and ogres and satyrs.”
“I know!” Cory replied. “I like variety, but the work of a tooth fairy is pretty much the same from one day to the next. All we do is collect human teeth!”
“If you hate it so much, why don’t you quit? There are a lot of other things you could be doing.”
