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.”
CHAPTER 23
“Safely” was apparently a relative term to a fairy for some time later I woke up
on the hard concrete from a molar-induced nap. The sky was dark as I gazed up, blinking. It took me a long minute to get my bearings. I was lying on the ground for the third time in twenty-four hours. A sign above me flashed JESUS SAVES in pink neon light. I recognized the sign and the irony quickly enough. I was on a street a few blocks from my office but a world away from saving anyone, least of all Izzy.
Slowly, I gained my feet, at a loss as to what my next move should be. I’d gone to the fairies in hopes of raising a toothy army to attack the Shadows headquarters and save their Tooth Fairy. But I was on my own.
Just the way I liked it.
I knew in my heart that going up against the Shadows was a suicide run, all but guaranteed to end with mass bloodshed.
But I’d made a promise, and Blue Reynolds kept his word.
Occasionally.
Before my suicidal attack on the Shadows headquarters, I decided to stop off at my apartment for an arsenal of weaponry, not to mention a few nips of liquid courage in the form of a bottle of twenty-year-old whiskey I’d been saving for a special occasion. Certain death felt special enough.
Climbing the stairs, I considered my plan of attack. To find Izzy I would have to gain entrance into a world where no solid form lived, at least not for long. The Shadows were known for their knife skills, and not the sort used in culinary pursuits. To even up the odds I’d go with my really big gun and full-on Blue Reynolds, human lightning bolt.
I unlocked my door and stood on my surge protector for a few seconds before pushing my way inside, careful not to disrupt my Peter Piper Pickle can alarm system. I flipped on the light next to my couch. The apartment looked much like it had early today: empty but with the window still open from Izzy’s flight.
Why the hell had she left the apartment? If she had done as I’d ordered, none of this would be happening now. She’d be safe. On the other hand, I’d probably be shadowy Swiss cheese.
Focusing on the matter at hand, I strapped my really big gun into the holster on my side. I added a bowie knife for good measure. As I was pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, a clatter of falling tin cans rose from behind me. I spun to face the intruder. “Clayton? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Shh . . .” He held a finger to his lips. “No one can know I’m here.”
How did he find out where I lived? I guess my secret hideout wasn’t so secret after all. As soon as this was over I’d fix that problem, but for now I had bigger Shadows to fry. I picked up a bottle of brown liquor from the table, downing half of it in a single gulp. “Why are you here?” I asked when the burning liquid hit my stomach.
He ducked his wrinkled head. “I can’t let you go after Izzy.”
“Why the hell not?” I took a menacing step toward him. “I thought you cared what happened to her. Why else would you hire me to find her?” I paused, the suspicion I’d been carrying in the back of my mind surging forward. “Unless you were behind the attempt on her life. You couldn’t find her on your own, so you hired me, and when I located her, you tried to gun her down.”
“What?” His face grew red. “How dare you? Peyton and I would die for her.... I mean, we would’ve died for her. . . .”
I frowned. “Would’ve?”
“I’m sorry, Blue. That’s why I’m here. I came to tell you. . . .” A tear welled in his beady eye. “Izzy . . . she’s . . . dead. . . .”
CHAPTER 24
An hour later I stood outside the headquarters of the Shadows, the fairies’ sworn enemies, watching through dry, dispassionate eyes.
Legend claimed the Shadows were once attached—literally—to the fairies, enslaved by the winged devils. Somehow they’d broken free from the ties that bound them, and now they spent every waking moment plotting their revenge, even if that meant taking the life of an innocent half human, half fairy.
My fists clenched. Izzy wasn’t dead. It was a lie. Some kind of ruse, I told myself for the tenth time since Clayton had dropped that bombshell and then run out of my apartment in tears. “Stop being a pussy and focus on the job,” I said to myself when unwanted emotion filled my throat.
Taking a deep breath, I stared up at the concrete fortress in front of me. It rose into the night sky, seemingly miles high. The palace looked dark, foreboding, and impenetrable. How the hell was I going to get inside? More importantly, how the hell would I smuggle Izzy out?
If she was still alive.
Determined but less than full-on kamikaze, I considered my options. Charge in, gun blazing, shooting anything in sight, or knock on the door and shoot the first Shadow I saw and every one of them after that until I found my pink-winged fairy? I grabbed the door handle, giving it a twist. Locked. Damn it. With a sigh, I opted for option number two.
I zipped up my jacket halfway, keeping one hand on my really big gun inside the leather, and then stabbed the doorbell with my free hand. It chimed with surprising gentleness, like a soft breeze before a storm.
Stale fortress air swirled as the front door slowly opened. “Can I help you, sir?” a dour-faced, nonhazy butler asked, his starched black suit fitting the ambiance of the fortress well.
“Ah . . .” The Shadows had a butler. Big deal. Many villains had household help. I straightened to my full height, trying not to instantly be intimidated by his sneer. “Yes. My name’s Blue Rey—”
“Oh, sir,” he cut me off, a wide smile changing his expression in a flash, “please come inside this minute. I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Would you like a refreshment? Maybe a light snack? Or even a midnight repast?”
Before I could answer he grabbed my free arm with his starched, white-gloved hand and pulled me inside. I struggled under his grip, but not enough to break it. After all, I needed to get inside, and this seemed like the perfect chance.
The handsy butler dragged me farther into the fortress, past a long corridor and into a warm, inviting library. A fire burned in the large stone fireplace, warding off the chill of the cold fortress. Books of all genres, shapes, sizes, and colors lined the bookshelves, which seemed to go on forever. The whole room was ten times bigger than my apartment and, truth be told, smelled a hell of a lot better too.
“Please have a seat,” the butler said, gesturing to a plush leather chair by the fire. “I will fetch Mr. Damien immediately.” With that he bowed low and hurried off to retrieve his boss, the head of the Shadows. All in all this was the nicest greeting I’d received in years, especially from someone I planned to destroy. For a bunch of murderous Shadows, they sure knew how to get good help.
I sunk down into the soft leather of the chair, preparing for the next few minutes, minutes that would likely end in my painful and imminent death.
But I would save Izzy.
This time.
A swirl of blackness floated into the room. The form slowly took shape, producing a handsome man with light blond hair and muscles on top of his muscles. He was dressed in a douchey velvet smoking jacket over an expensive suit.
I disliked him on sight. “Damien, I assume,” I said, slowly and carefully rising to my feet. The gun under my jacket gave me a boost of confidence as I faced the head of the Shadows. If I were going out, I’d damn well take pretty boy with me.
Damien held out his hand.
I weighed the consequences of taking it, frying the shit out of him, and being done with it. But Izzy’s life hung in the balance. Until he told me where she was, I would have to play along like a good blue-haired boy. “Better not,” I said, nodding to the sparks bouncing from my fingertips.
He smiled, slowly dropping his hand. “Then it’s true?”
“What?”
He motioned to my hand. “You are a human electrode?”
I shrugged. “We can’t all be perfect, I suppose.”
He chuckled, deep and throaty, like a cat who’d just dined on the finest of canaries. “It’s good to finally meet the man behind the legend.”
I scratched my chin. “I think there’s some sort of mistake. My name’s—”
I frowned. “Yeah.”
His grin widened. “We’ve been expecting you. More than expecting, actually.”
“I see,” I said but really didn’t. Apparently, I was missing a big part of some shadowy picture. The thought sent a chill along my less bluish parts.
Damien apparently noticed my confusion. “We’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Reynolds. Mind if I call you Blue?”
“Why not?”
“And you must call me Damien. We’re going to get along famously.”
Ah. Now things were starting to make sense. “I’m straight,” I said for clarification’s sake.
One blond eyebrow arched. “That’s nice.”
“Just wanted to put that out there.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, Blue. I have no designs on your body but rather what it will do for the Shadows.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Not yet,” he said, reaching out to pat my shoulder but dropping his hand before he got burned. “But you will soon enough.” He glanced at the overcompensating Rolex on his wrist. “We have time.”
Did Izzy? Or was she somewhere nearby, dying slowly and painfully while Damien made nice? The thought left me cold. I reached for my really big gun.
But I was too late.
Damien had already vanished in a puff of hazy smoke.
CHAPTER 25
Damien’s goodwill only went so far apparently, for as soon as he disappeared from the library, the telltale pop of a lock striking home filled the cavernous room.
Damn. Unless I wanted to bust through what looked like triple-paned tempered windows or shoot my way through the locked door, I was stuck since I’d stupidly left my lock picks at my apartment.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I dropped in the leather chair to contemplate a means of escape. I decided on calling for the butler and then rushing him when he opened the door. It wasn’t a great plan, but it seemed like all I had at the moment.
Sadly, my window of opportunity never appeared. The butler arrived with a tray filled with wine, cheese, exotic meats, and the finest of whiskey.
The Fairyland Murders Page 10
