by Erica Ridley
“Good enough for government work,” she muttered, vowing to follow the letter of the law perfectly… starting with her next assignment.
With a whispered “Pearly States!” she pulled the pouch strings closed and the little red bag vanished with a pop. No going back—the fossilized tooth had already arrived at its destination. Finally. She hoped it wasn’t a hassle to extract it from the stone. Maybe she should devise some sort of automatic tooth extractor for situations like this. Mechanical engineering was so much easier than collecting teeth. It just didn’t get her any respect.
Not that she deserved any until she completed her tooth fairy apprenticeship. If she completed her apprenticeship.
Other tooth fairies got softly sleeping eight-year-olds every day of the week, but what did she get on her first night out? A giant hunk of man, that’s what. Fully grown. Fully awake. And by the feel of his body pressed against hers, fully aroused.
Not that she’d been paying attention to that part of him. Much. Well, okay, she had, but come on. Even Nether-Netherland didn’t have guys that hot. Who would have guessed how attractive a hint of stubble, tanned muscles, and unkempt hair could be?
Then again, she hadn’t anticipated any part of the encounter. A tent instead of a bedroom was bizarre. An adult instead of a child was also bizarre. The tooth belonging to someone so old he had to be dug up from the ground was beyond bizarre. As for the sexy keeper of that tooth? Whatever impulse had led to their arms circling around each other and his mouth covering hers… She had to nip that in the bud. Forever.
Especially since the punishment for physical contact with a human was fierce.
She dropped her forehead to her desk. For the love of Venus, had she really kissed a human? What in the world had she been thinking? She groaned. Clearly she hadn’t been thinking. Wasn’t that always her problem? Diving face-first into anything that caught her interest. Neurophysics, obsolete languages, toothfairying. Only this time, she’d jumped headlong into a warm, solid wall named Trevor Masterson. And kissed him.
Accidentally, but whatever. She’d wanted it, and so had he. He’d even invited her to stay. To meet him in his tent. Maybe his motives were innocent, but given they hadn’t spent thirty seconds in each other’s company without being spooned together or in a near lip-lock…
She lifted her head and shivered at the memory of his hard body against hers. Oh, who was she fooling? Tent, etchings, magic wand collection—the subtext was clear no matter what dimension a girl lived in. Subconsciously or not, Trevor’s true invitation had been in the heat of his caramel skin, the half-lidded intensity of his dark eyes, the sensual promise of his touch.
And, oh, was he tempting. Mmm. If she hadn’t needed to get that tooth back pronto, she might have considered joining him in his tent for an hour or three. Well, and if sexual human relationships weren’t expressly forbidden to fairies under penalty of banishment. Daisy shoved away from her desk with a gasp. Cripes. Banishment. No human was worth that!
She leapt to her feet. Her chair banged against the filing cabinet, knocking a tiny lime green frog from his perch atop the Nether-Netherland Readers’ Choice Condensed Encyclopedia of Human Slang and Culture.
“Sorry, Bubbles,” she whispered, holding up a hand for her blinking where-frog. He hopped from the cabinet top to her outstretched palm and shot her a baleful look, as though he somehow knew she’d been out making a fool of herself. Again.
She grimaced. No harm done, right? Nobody had to know the mission hadn’t gone according to plan. The humans wouldn’t cause any trouble. Trevor didn’t even believe she was a fairy. Because her mentor had the day off, Vivian would have no clue the tooth collecting had taken an extra day. And Daisy’d managed to turn in the odd-shaped tooth without anyone being the wiser. Nothing to worry about. Right?
Bubbles gave a loud ribbit of disapproval.
“Shh,” Daisy whispered, covering him with her other hand. She was pretty sure Vivian never swung by the office on her free days, but there was no sense hanging around to find out. Daisy slipped the well-worn encyclopedia into her magically bottomless handbag and nodded to her where-frog. “Bubbles, take us home.”
They materialized in the midst of pumpkin-strewn grass, each dusky orange gourd mocking her with its very existence. Normally she didn’t mind the constant reminder that she and magic didn’t play well together. Okay, she minded, but since it wasn’t a new state of affairs, she didn’t usually get that just-ate-raw-eggs feeling she’d been getting since sending off that tooth. At least she’d managed to complete a mission without turning anything into a pumpkin.
Ignoring the state of her accidental garden, Daisy headed across the lawn, taking time to enjoy the springy crunch of dewy grass beneath her bare feet.
Sunlight filtered through the thatch of trees flanking the property. Her best friend, a winged horse named Maeve, coasted down from the barn connected to Daisy’s floating cottage and yawned, showing off an impressive set of teeth.
“How’d it go with Project Tooth?” Maeve asked in a sleep-thickened voice.
Daisy grimaced. So much for not dwelling on her mishap. “Not so good the first time,” she admitted. “I had to leave without the tooth.”
“You what?” Maeve stared at her in disbelief, velvety ears aquiver. “You can remember equations to integrate fractals, and yet on a tooth fairy assignment you forgot to pick up the tooth?”
“I didn’t forget.” Daisy crossed her arms defensively. She was a scientist, not stupid. Well, an ex-scientist. And it’s not like toothfairying was easy. “He wouldn’t hand it over.”
“He… Oh, honey, no.” Maeve twisted her neck in order to flick her thick violet tail across her face. The closest a winged horse could get to a facepalm. “They’re not supposed to interact with you! Didn’t you tell me that if the child woke up, all you’re allowed to do is lull him back to sleep? If the Elders find out about this, buh-bye tooth fairy. You’ll be lucky to return to your post at the Neurophysics Compound.” Maeve’s long, lavender head tilted to one side. “Let’s think positive. Maybe if the little boy mentions you, his parents will just chalk it up to youthful imagination.”
“About that.” Daisy bit her lip and debated how much her best friend needed to know. Well, better she hear it from her first. “Truth is, I didn’t see any parents. This particular boy had short black hair, long eyelashes, and a five o’clock shadow.” She forced the mouthwatering image of Trevor’s slow, bedimpled smile from her mind. The saying was, “Never trust a human.” She probably ought to amend that to not trusting herself around humans. Particularly ones that looked good enough to eat. “Seeing as I’d never heard of an eight-year-old with a five o’clock shadow, that was my first indication something was wrong.”
Maeve’s tail flicked toward the lawn. “You’re supposed to sneak in and grab the tooth, not stand around measuring whiskers and eyelashes.”
“I got distracted by the anomalies.” Daisy kicked at the wet grass, scattering tiny droplets across Maeve’s purple hooves. “I knew the tooth collection system was glitchy, but wow. How could something as simple as collecting a baby tooth turn into such a disaster?”
“Beats me.” Maeve’s ears quirked. “What did Vivian say?”
“I didn’t tell her,” Daisy admitted. Vivian Valdemeer wasn’t the sort of person you let down if you wanted to keep your job. And there wasn’t anything Daisy wanted more than to make fairy and earn her wings. “Besides, it’s all over now. I already turned in the tooth. Even if the Pearly States calls to say they received the package a day late, I can always pretend I got sidetracked and forgot to send it in. You know, play the nutty scientist.” Daisy widened her eyes and blinked vacantly. “I may get in trouble, but at least I won’t get anyone fired.”
“I guess,” Maeve said. “But I thought you said you came away empty-handed. How’d you get the tooth from Mr. Eyelashes?”
“I went back a couple hours ago.” Daisy adjusted her glasses with the back of her hand
. “And this time, Trevor handed it right over. Thank the seven gods of fortune.”
Maeve tossed her violet mane. “Trevor?”
“Er… the human.”
“And he was happy to cooperate the second time around?”
“Yep.” Daisy set Bubbles onto a nearby pumpkin. He hopped down into the grass.
Maeve frowned. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” The fluttering of doubt curdled in Daisy’s stomach. She’d been so desperate not to screw up her apprenticeship, she hadn’t stopped to wonder why. Who lied to the Tooth Fairy? “Maybe I changed his mind when I accidentally kissed him?”
But wait… he gave up the goods before that oh-so-brief kiss… Which she probably shouldn’t have mentioned.
“Zeus and Hera, Daisy, you kissed a human?” Maeve whistled through thick, square teeth. “What in Loki’s name were you thinking?”
“I’ve been over this with myself already this morning,” Daisy muttered irritably. She’d better not have mucked up her apprenticeship with her mouth’s wanderlust. A single stolen moment with a human she’d never lay eyes on again was definitely not worth losing everything she’d worked for. “I was obviously not thinking. Can we let it go?”
Maeve whinnied nervously. “You better hope the Elders don’t find out.”
“I know, I know.” Daisy located a wand and a pail of pixie dust behind one of the pumpkins. “I’m going to practice magic to take my mind off of my troubles. Want to help?”
“Depends,” Maeve said suspiciously. “Is that a real wand or the pumpkin wand?”
“Neither. I call it Mechanical Wand 2.0.” Daisy carefully lowered the wand and swirled the pink star tip in the glittering dust. “And it shouldn’t do the pumpkin thing anymore. I upgraded the nano-transmutation firmware and adjusted the molecular infrastructure to correlate the transmogrification algorithm with internal switchback capacitors.”
“Uh… whatever that means.”
“It means, hopefully this time I can pull off something besides a boring old gourd.” She took a deep breath and willed herself to be optimistic. Today would get better. It would. Despite the unnamed anxiety clawing at her gut. “I’d like to try a new spell.”
“Hmm.” Maeve’s muzzle dipped into the pixie dust pail. “Where’d you get this stuff? It smells funny.”
“I made that, too.” Daisy straightened proudly. That pail represented months of lab time.
Maeve jerked her head from the bucket with a squeak of terror. “Like the previous pre-programmed wand?” She backed up a few feet, tail twitching double-time. “I’m not saying you’re not a good scientist. You rock at neurophysics. But magic isn’t science. Why don’t you buy real pixie dust and a legit wand at the bimonthly bazaar like everyone else?”
“I’ll buy a normal wand and normal dust when I can do magic like a normal person,” Daisy bit out, tempted to upend the pail on her best friend’s muzzle. “You know as well as I do that before I invented a custom-engineered wand, I couldn’t magic my way out of a barn.”
“And now you can fill one with pumpkins.” Maeve backed out of harm’s way. “Not sure science is pushing you in the right direction.”
“At least it’s a direction. I am so tired of staying stagnant. Of being nowhere. Pumpkins are stupid, but at least they’re something. And Wand 2.0 has a faster processor for more spells.” Daisy tapped excess powder from the hot pink wand, letting the surplus glitter rain back into the pail. “I have to progress somehow. How am I supposed to make fairy if I can’t do magic?”
Maeve cocked her head to one side. “Maybe you’re not fated to make fairy. Like I said, you’re the best scientist Nether-Netherland has ever seen. Why kill yourself trying to be magical? Just because it’s the one thing you’re not good at?”
“Nobody but you cares if I’m good at science. There isn’t a lowlier job in this dimension and you know it. Besides, half a decade of researching discrepancies in proto-apocalyptic patterns is more than enough lab work for one person. I could use some adventure.” Daisy hesitated, wishing it didn’t sting so much when the people she loved agreed how hopelessly unmagical she was. Just because something was true didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. “More than that, I want to be respected. Make a difference. And to do that, I have to be more than a mere scientist. I have to be magical.”
Maeve nudged the pail with one hoof. “I can’t deny any of that, but… I just wish there was an easier way. How will you ever get good at magic if you keep relying on science? Maybe artificial pixie dust isn’t a wise choice, no matter how magically challenged you might be. Your mom’s a fairy godmother. Can’t she score some primo dust for you on the sly?”
“Maybe, if Dad weren’t a guardian angel.” Daisy straightened her glasses, hoping to hide her frustration from her eyes. “He doesn’t believe in bending rules, and she doesn’t believe in upsetting him. Mama would never traffic contraband dust. Even for me.” Especially not for her. Mama wouldn’t want her risking her father’s wrath. “If I’m going to get anywhere in life, I’ll have to do it on my own.” She gestured with her wand. “Are you going to help me practice spells or not?”
“Okay.” Maeve leaned backward to stretch her forelegs. “Let’s do this.” She glanced around the yard. “You see that barnacle tree over there? Aim at one of the branches without geese. We’d better start basic, with single-word spells.” She slid a wary glance at Daisy’s wand. “I still don’t trust that thing. What’s the simplest spell you can think of? Ooh, let’s do a rainbow sequence on the leaves, one color at a time. Find a leaf. Visualize it turning the color of Santa’s sleigh, speak the word ‘red’ very loudly and clearly, and aim carefully.”
“All at once?” Daisy squinted at the barnacle tree, with its large brown trunk and oversize bud-shaped leaves filled with geese.
“Of course all at once. That’s how spells work.” Maeve took a few steps to the side as though worried about becoming collateral damage. “Go ahead.”
Daisy sucked in a lungful of cool air and pointed the wand at the tree. Red, red, red. Santa’s sleigh. Fire trucks. Gnome hats. Trevor’s plastic cooler.
“Red!” Daisy shouted. A thick line of glittering light shot out from the tip of the wand and knocked a goose off its branch. The goose landed on the ground as a pumpkin.
A bright red pumpkin.
Daisy swore under her breath.
“Did you just—”
“Yes, yes, I did. I can see just as clearly as you can.” Daisy’s shoulders slumped. “I’m never going to get the algorithms right.”
“I don’t know,” Maeve said slowly. “Maybe you will. It’s red, isn’t it? That’s progress. Pick a different color and try again.” She shot Daisy a warning glance. “This time aim for a leaf, not a bird. I don’t want to have to turn a rainbow-colored pumpkin patch back into a flock of geese.”
“I did aim!”
“Aim harder.”
“Fine.” Daisy dipped her wand back into the pixie dust and faced the tree again. Maybe green would be easier than red. Green, green, green. Troll skin. Dewy grass. Trevor’s sleeping bag. “Green!”
A ray of sparkling light zapped another goose off the tree. This time, the odd-shaped pumpkin was a rugged, army green. Just like Trevor’s sleeping bag.
“Daisy…”
“Trust me,” she said with a sigh. “I know.”
The remaining geese cast icy glares in her direction and took to the sky in a cacophony of flapping wings and indignant squawking.
Two familiar winged people dove in from the opposite direction and lighted on the ground in front of the colorful pumpkins. They strolled forward, hand in hand.
“Hi, Dad. Hi, Mama.” Daisy dropped the wand and surreptitiously nudged the pixie dust pail behind a properly-colored pumpkin. No sense calling attention to her magical follies. “Out on a Sunday flight?”
“Oh, come here, sweetie.” As usual, Daisy’s mother looked gorgeous with her silvery upswept hair, delicate translucent w
ings, and flowing sky-blue gown. “I’ve missed you.” She opened her arms and smiled.
Daisy dutifully walked over for cheek kisses.
Her father crossed his arms over his powerful chest, forcing his strong white wings to unfurl even further. He was more into guarding than hugging. “We wanted to know how your first assignment went. We expected you to drop by this morning and brief us.”
“Yes, well…” Daisy tried for a casual expression. “I got sidetracked.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Mama held Daisy by the shoulders. “I knew it would be tough to acclimate at first. I hope you aren’t too far out of your comfort zone.” Her eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t have an incident, did you?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Daisy gave her head a quick shake. “Everything went according to plan.”
Maeve coughed. Daisy shot her a dirty look.
“How about you, young lady?” Dad boomed. “How’s air traffic control these days?”
“Never better.” Maeve tossed her purple mane from her eyes. “Got a second? I want to ask you a question about skyway traffic and flying monkey violations.”
“Absolutely.”
Maeve trotted off with Dad, leaving Daisy alone with her mother.
“Tell me the truth, now, sweetie.” Mama patted Daisy’s arm. “You aren’t regretting giving up your career at the Neurophysics Compound, are you? Your research team and private laboratory and all those… uh… vials?”
“Not in the slightest.” Well, not overly much. They hadn’t hired anyone to replace her and she still had laboratory access and research privileges. They were trying to lure her back, but she couldn’t give up her fairy apprenticeship without trying her hardest to succeed. “As soon as I earn my wings, you’ll have reason to be proud.”
Mama’s forehead scrunched. “Neurophysics is… sort of… something to be proud of. Ish.”
“Is it?” Daisy’s fingers clenched at the obvious prevarication. Science was her life’s work and meant nothing to her family.
She supposed a human mother would react much the same if her child’s lifelong passion was for cleaning toilet bowls or mopping up vomit. There were no such menial jobs in Nether-Netherland, because everyone could perform magic on call. Science was not only the sole form of manual labor, but unlike cleaning toilet bowls or mopping up vomit, science was widely considered a useless endeavor. Why spend months or years researching and engineering and constructing something any child could conjure with a flick of the wrist? Daisy’s own mother could perform successful spells with her very first words.
