The Fairyland Murders (11 page)

“S
afely” 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 J
ESUS
S
AVES
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. . . .”

A
n 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—”

“Blue Reynolds.”

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.

D
amien'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.

He also arrived with two fully armed Shadows.

Again I thought of shooting my way out, but that would do little to help me find Izzy. The element of surprise, on which I had been counting, was gone. The Shadows had to be on high alert with me locked in their library. Now I'd be lucky to make it twenty feet before a group of the hazy assholes stopped me. I'd have to come up with another plan.

One that didn't include certain death.

“Can I get you anything else?” the butler asked, rousing me from my murderous thoughts.

“No, I'm good.” I picked up a piece of cheese and popped it into my mouth. It tasted like heaven after a long day without food. The butler nodded, exiting the room with his twin bodyguards.

My morning coffee had long since faded, leaving me shaking with exhaustion and hunger. Having a light snack and relaxing a bit until I thought of a plan of escape wouldn't hurt. After all, the room was warm, the food sweet and plentiful, and best of all no one was knocking me in the head.

Yet.

I finished eating and poured a hearty dose of medicinal whiskey into a fancy crystal glass worth more than everything I owned. My eyelids grew heavy as I drank it down. A few minutes later I was sound asleep.

 

“Blue . . .” Izzy's voice drifted through my head, sounding as sweet and bossy as I remembered. She appeared in front of me, her wings fully restored, her smile alive and filled with humor. I groaned, wanting this dream never to end.

But it would end.

And Izzy would once again disappear.

“Blue,” her voice grew louder. This time she followed up with a smack to my cheek. I sprang awake, blinking as the dream vanished before my eyes, leaving a very real version of a not-so-happy soon-to-be Tooth Fairy. In fact, she looked mad as hell. Her eyes blazed and her face had turned a becoming shade of pink.

“Izzy? Is that you?” I blinked a few more times, half expecting her to disappear. When she didn't a massive sense of relief filled me. Izzy was alive, and from the looks of her, unharmed. “I've been looking all over for you.”

She snorted. “Really hard, I see.”

A blush rose in my cheeks. Not a pretty sight on anyone over the age often, but embarrassing on a thirty-year-old, blue-haired man. “I have been looking for you. The twins told me you were dead, but I didn't believe them.” My voice grew louder at the thought of her demise.

“Shhh.” Her index finger flew to my lips, which then smoldered from an electrical shock wave. “We don't want them to hear us.” She pulled her hand away, blowing on the burned digit as she glared at me.

“What the hell is going on?” I pushed from the chair, nearly upending it and myself in the process. Damien's whiskey was stronger than I'd thought. Or, more likely, the asshole had drugged me. I shook my head, focusing on the matter at hand. Namely, saving Izzy, or rather letting Izzy save my ass yet again. Playing the distressed damsel instead of an off-off-off-white knight was getting real old really fast. “What happened last night? Why were the Shadows holding you hostage?” I asked. “And what's with that Damien guy?”

She winced. “I'll explain everything. But not right now.”

No sooner had the words left her lips than the library doors flew open and two hazy black figures burst into the room looking formidable with their shadowy clothes and shiny weapons.

“Get her,” the taller of the two yelled.

Without thinking, I lifted my jacket, pulling out my really big gun. My fingers gripped the cold metal, preparing for whatever was about to happen. I pointed the weapon at the closer of the two Shadows. The figure on my right stopped, raising his hand in the air. “You don't want to do that, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Yeah, I kind of do.” I motioned with the gun. “Move aside.”

“Take it easy. No one's going to hurt you, Mr. Reynolds,” he said in a pleasing tone as he backed up a step.

The other Shadow wasn't nearly so cooperative. He ran toward Izzy. I fired, the bullet catching him somewhere in the middle of his hazy mass. He hit the floor without a sound, which was far creepier than one would think.

Before I could react the second, still-breathing Shadow darted for the doors, yelling for help. I fired twice, missing both times.

“Shit.” I ran to Izzy, who stood paralyzed in the center of the room, the dead Shadow at her feet. “Come on, Isabella. We need to get out of here.” I pulled on a pair of gloves and grabbed her arm.

At my touch she appeared to come out of her daze. She blinked a few times and then glanced up at me. “You shot him.”

“We can do a full play-by-play after we get the hell out of here. But for now you have to flee as fast as your wings will carry you. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

“Good.” I pulled her behind me, and together we dashed from the library, running toward the front door. The air behind us filled with blackness, swirling like a rising hurricane. I could feel shadowy hot breath on my heels.

We weren't going to make it.

“Whatever you do,” I said to the fairy at my side, “don't stop running.”

In answer, she dug her fingers into my bare forearm. Blue sparks bounced off her skin, but her grip didn't slacken. “Forget it. You aren't making any grand sacrifices, not now. Fight or flee, doesn't matter either way, we do it together.”

“Stubborn fairy. Have it your way.” I pushed her ahead of me, firing blindly into the darkness on our heels.

Lucky for us, the butler opened the door at the exact moment we arrived at it, and we ran out of the fortress without breaking stride. We ran and ran, occasionally glancing behind us, for what seemed like an eternity given my two-pack-a-day habit and the advanced size of my liver.

Fifteen impossibly long blocks from the fortress I pulled to a stop, sucking in lungsful of air. I needed to quit smoking. Izzy looked unfazed by our flight. Her wings fluttered in the wind as the sun turned her hair even more fiery in color. In that moment she was the most beautiful woman alive.

“Blue,” she said suddenly, “they're coming.”

“What?” I looked behind us, seeing nothing but blue skies and morning commuters. “Where?”

“Hurry,” she said, grabbing my arm again.

I took one last gasp of breath and started to run. Izzy kept pace next to me. Another block blurred into a second and still we ran. When it felt like my heart was going to explode, I slowed to a trot. “I can't keep this up.”

“What should we do?”

“Hide in one of these buildings.” I paused, motioning to the rows of expensive glass and chrome high-rises that rose into the sky all around us. “It will take the Shadows days to find us.”

Izzy shook her head. “It won't work, Blue. These buildings have tight security. No doorman in his right mind will let us past the lobby.”

She was right. We hardly looked like the type to live in such a glitzy neighborhood, even without the sweat stains soaking my underarms or the pink wings attached to Izzy. I bit my lip, considering.

Then it hit me.

I knew how and better yet
who
could save our bacon.

I grabbed Izzy's hand and rushed up the street to a high-rise building layered in gold. As soon as we reached the lobby I removed my gloves, ready to electrocute the doorman if he proved uncooperative. Which he did. But I refrained from juicing him for the moment.

The burly security guard manning the desk stood when we entered the building. He took one look at us and reached for the panic button.

“Hold on. We're guests of one of your residents,” I said, holding my hands out in what I hoped was a nonthreatening manner. The nonthreatening part probably failed when electricity arched between my palms.

He tilted his overly large, apelike head, his gaze watchful and filled with suspicion. “Yeah right. Who's this supposed tenant?”

With a quick, satisfying grin, I rubbed my hands together, generating even more sparks, and said, “Princess Penelopee Andersen.”