The Fairyland Murders

by J. A. Kazimer

  “Penelopee . . .”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear about my past.” She bit her lip.

  My gaze fell on her, and for a brief moment I wished things were different. Don’t get me wrong; I liked her well enough, especially as a client, since she’d paid her bill.

  But the spark was there.

  We could never truly connect as long as the possibility of total electrocution hovered around us.

  Somewhere out there was a woman perfect for a blue-haired guy with electrical issues. I thought of Izzy and shook my head. I’d been such a fool. There was nothing real between us.

  Only lies and fairy dust.

  Penelopee took a step closer to me and smiled, a come-hither one that most men feared. While losing myself in what she offered was tempting, it would be a mistake, leaving both of us with regrets. I had enough of them already. “Penelopee, we should talk,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  Her eyebrow rose. “About?”

  “Us,” I said, with more of a question in my voice than I’d intended. Suck it up, Blue boy, I ordered. I’d had plenty of experience with ending relationships; mostly women ending them with me but the process still held true.

  I leaned back farther into the mattress. It molded to my body as if meant just for me. And maybe it was, if the tag on the side that read 100 PERCENT FLAME RESISTANT was any indication. My body relaxed even more.

  “Another drink?” Penelopee held up the amber liquor, swirling it around the bottle.

  I nodded, willing the alcohol to numb the aches and pains of the evening. “Thanks,” I said, holding out the crystal glass. A man could really get used to this, I thought as she poured my drink. Beautiful woman, the best booze this side of the New Fairsey Turnpike, and no one plotting my murder.

  At the moment.

  At least I hoped so.

  One could never tell with a couple thousand fairies on the loose in Fairyland.

  Penelopee took a sip from her drink and then set it down on the glass and gold—actual 24-carat stuff—coffee table. “I’m glad you’re bringing the topic up. I also wanted to talk about you and me, Blue. About what the future holds.”

  Uh-oh. This didn’t sound like the same conversation I planned on having. I held up my hand to ward off any awkward tears and recriminations. “Listen, Penelopee, you’re great. I really enjoy your company. . .”

  “Glad to hear it.” She smiled over her glass, flashing perfectly formed teeth, each as smooth and shiny as the next. Her daddy must’ve paid a fortune for chompers that perfect. “I feel the same.”

  “Right. But the thing is . . .” Oh, hell, what was the thing? My brain seemed to suddenly lose all track of the conversation, let alone function as my stomach roiled.

  She tilted her head. “Blue? Are you all right?”

  I swallowed back a tide of rising bile. “Excuse me.” I jumped to my feet, holding a hand over my mouth as I ran full tilt to the bathroom. I barely made it in time before I threw up a day’s worth of drinks, Happily Ever After Meals, and one blackened pea, dating from over a hundred years ago.

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I hadn’t tossed my cookies after a few drinks since I was a blue-haired schoolboy.

  Fucking magic pea.

  Apparently, fairies aside, it really would be the death of me. I laid my head on the cold tile of the bathroom floor and wished for death as my stomach continued to have its revenge on my body for eating a very rotten pea.

  “Blue?” Penelopee asked, knocking on the bathroom door. “Are you all right?”

  “Just peachy,” I groaned.

  “Can I do anything for you?”

  “Let me die in peace” came to mind, but I swallowed the retort. None of this was her fault. “I’ll be okay. Go to sleep,” I said as another round of vomit charged up my throat.

  Ten minutes later, my body completely devoid of any gastric fluid, I pulled the puke-coated pea from the toilet, washed it off, and set in on the bathroom sink. Then, weak as a kitten, I crawled from the bathroom across the floor to the bedroom, almost making it to the bed. But it wasn’t to be. Instead, I dropped face-first onto the soft, shag carpet, and fell into a deep, near-comatose sleep.

  I dreamed a pack of giant dentures were after me.

  I ran and ran, but they were always there.

  One step ahead.

  I only had one shot at saving myself.

  If only I could figure out the puzzle swirling inside my head. Images of Izzy, her pink wings shining like beacons, flew through my head, morphing into the hazy shape of Damien.

  In the distance a voice sounding much like Penelopee’s screamed. I tried to reach for her, but I was too late. She was trapped in rolls and rolls of dental floss, her perfect smile gone, leaving rows of broken teeth and bloody gums.

  I tried to scream, but my own mouth was sealed shut. Lips sewn together with thick strings of dental floss. A roll of floss and a bloody needle held in tiny, stubby hands.

  CHAPTER 58

  I jerked awake, spitting out a mouthful of white shag-carpet fibers. I winced at the damage to the hotel room. A trail of vomit led from the bathroom to the bed, not to mention a group of small scorch marks.

  Usually after a nightmare I had to use at least two fire extinguishers. Maybe I was maturing?

  I rose to my feet, still a little shaky from the explosion of pea vomit, as well as Izzy’s lies.

  Speaking of the pea, I headed back to the bathroom to retrieve it. I wasn’t sure what I planned to do with the damn thing. Swallowing it again was out of the question. The first time was bad enough.

  Once in the bathroom, I licked my dry lips, dunking my face under the cold faucet spray as I sucked down gulps of water. When I had drunk my fill, I splashed water on my face, dried off with the hotel’s overly white towels, and then glanced down at the soap dish, where I’d left the pea.

  An empty soap dish.

  A shiver ran up my spine.

  “Penelopee,” I called, my voice filling with increasing anxiety. “Are you here?”

  No answer.

  But the faint scent of denture cream tickled my nostrils.

  The same scent Izzy claimed she’d smelled the night Jack the Tooth Ripper had attacked her. I stumbled from the bathroom toward the front hall of the suite, my heart filling with guilt and fear. Something on the ground by the door caught my eye.

  And I knew.

  For a brief moment I stared down at the torn piece of green wing on the floor, the puzzle pieces from my earlier dream snapping into place.

  Without another thought, I took off running as if my life was at stake. When, in truth, Izzy was the one in danger.

  Grave danger.

  CHAPTER 59

  Thirteen minutes and seven seconds later I ran up Fairy-Second Street toward my office, cursing every cigarette, every whiskey, and every dip of fairy dust I’d ever consumed. If Izzy was still alive, I vowed to become a better blue-haired man. No more boozing. No more sneaking smokes. I would go to church every Sunday, except during football season.

  A man could only suffer so much.

  By the time I climbed the three flights of stairs to my office my lungs were on fire, as were the soles of my feet. Once at the top of the stairs, I blew on my smoking boots, listening for any sounds coming from my office.

  The only thing that reached me was the sweet chemical smell of denture cream.

  Jack the Tooth Ripper was inside.

  It was time to end this, once and for all.

  Using the element of surprise, I kicked the door right above the old, rusty lock. It flew inward, crashing against the file cabinet inside.

  I pushed into my office. “Where is Izzy?”

  The fairy standing on my desk froze, his green wings as still as death.

  Taking two quick steps farther into the office, I repeated my question, this time in a shout. “Jonas, tell me where she is!”

  My roar had the opposite effect than intended. Rather than immediately
complying with my order, the little green-winged bastard lifted his finger, pointing it in my direction like a weapon. His eyes blazed with hate and something else. Something it took me a few seconds to recognize.

  Fear.

  I realized my mistake when the door behind me swung shut. I spun around to face the threat, but it was too late.

  A really big pair of golden pliers filled my vision.

  CHAPTER 60

  “Blue,” Penelopee said with a smile, the golden pliers in her hands gleaming evilly in the sunlight that filtered through my grimy office window. “So glad you could make it. This moment wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  I strained against the dental floss binding my hands and feet, unable to move the smallest fraction of an inch. Damn Princess Scouts. Not only did they teach the fine art of peddling their cookies but those bitches could tie a hell of a knot.

  Penelopee shook her head. “Don’t bother trying to melt it.” She held up a roll of floss. “The FDA ordered all floss to be flame resistant ten years ago. A pity for you.”

  “Thanks for your concern,” I grumbled.

  “That wasn’t why I bought this particular brand, though.” Ignoring my comment, she lifted the roll to her nose, inhaling deeply. “To me, it’s the most minty of all. Like flossing in the middle of a field of candy canes.”

  I snorted. “I’m guessing you haven’t done much flossing, Penelopee. Not for many, many years.”

  The smile fell off her face and she smacked me across the face with the back of her surprisingly strong hand. My head snapped back and, much to my delight, she did too from the resulting shock.

  Her screech of pain lifted my spirits. Killing me, unlike the other fairies and Barry, would leave a lasting mark. I only hoped Detective Locks would put two and two together and eventually capture the princess before she killed a certain Tooth Fairy with pink wings.

  “Jonas,” she yelled to the green-winged fairy, “bring me my apron. We don’t want to get any blood on my pretty dress.”

  He did as she ordered, taking small tentative steps that spoke volumes. He wasn’t in cahoots with Penelopee; he was yet another victim, apparently under some sort of mind control.

  Nope, scratch that.

  Pea control.

  Penelopee was using the pea in order to force Jonas to do her bidding. That’s why she’d taken it this morning. I hoped like hell she’d washed her hands after, especially if she planned on sticking her fingers into my mouth to rip out all my teeth.

  I needed a plan before things got out of control. “You know, Penelopee, it doesn’t have to go this way. You can untie me, and I’ll forget all about your serial-killing ways.” I smiled my most innocent of smiles. “I thought we had something special. That night we spent together . . .”

  I knew I’d failed when she snorted. “Oh?” she asked, waving the pliers in my face. “How special was it, Blue? Do you remember declaring your undying love for me?”

  “Um . . .” I said. I’d said “I love you” in a pinch, most often when I wanted to continue any sort of amorous pinching, so my saying it to Penelopee sounded about right. Right up until the undying part. “You’re lying,” I said. Annoying a murderous princess wasn’t the smartest of moves. Then again, sleeping with said murderous princess in the first place hadn’t worked out all that well either.

  “Am I?” she asked, pushing the pliers tips under my throat, into the soft flesh. I gagged. She grinned, pressing harder. “Men are all the same. Be they fairies or fools like you, Blue. Flash a nice set of wings,” she spun around, jamming the cheap green plastic wings from Barry’s shop in my face, “and you will do anything.”

  “Given a choice,” I spit out a plastic-dipped feather, “I prefer the real thing over fake any day.”

  She turned back to face me, her smile much darker. A shiver, and not the electrical kind, ran up my spine. Penelopee wasn’t fucking around. She was seriously disturbed and I was seriously fucked.

  Stall, my mind whispered. As plans went it sucked, but I didn’t have anything better, so against my better judgment, I listened to my brain. I flipped through my mental handbook on stalling tactics, settling on the only one that might work on a serial-killing princess. “So, Penelopee,” I began, “where did you get those fabulous glass slippers?”

  CHAPTER 61

  I mumbled through the black electrical tape Jonas had stuck over my mouth, but Penelopee wasn’t paying me any attention. Rather she was arranging her murderous dental tools along my desk.

  She picked up each pick, pliers, and roll of floss, stroking it like a lover, and then set it down, making sure no two pieces touched. Jonas sat in my desk chair, his eyes blank. I wasn’t sure his empty gaze was pea related. Fairies weren’t what anyone would call really deep thinkers.

  I noticed a cell phone on the desk next to a tan-colored case, a case that looked an awful lot like the kind used for dentures. Sister Francis used to use the exact same type. The phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text, in a very familiar tone. I frowned under the electrical tape over my mouth.

  Murderous bitch had stolen my phone. In itself, taking my phone seemed like a small invasion, except the phone in question had been buried deep in my pocket, very near my manly parts. I didn’t want Penelopee anywhere near my genitals, especially with her golden pair of pliers.

  Penelopee glanced up from her tool alignment, checking the incoming message on my phone. She smiled, setting the phone back down and whistling under her breath. “Won’t be long now.” She turned to me, tapping her finger against my taped lips. “Now, if I take this off, do you promise to be very quiet? You wouldn’t want to ruin my surprise, right?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good.” She smiled, ripping the tape from my mouth, as well as the first four layers of skin. I yelped but quickly quieted when she shot me a warning glare.

  Licking the blood welling from my top lip, I considered my next move. Since my hands were bound my options for escape were limited. Jonas wouldn’t be of any help either. Not as long as he was under whatever spell the pea had cast.

  At least Jonas had an excuse for his behavior. How could I have been so stupid? I’d walked right through the door, knowing Penelopee was waiting inside. I’d figured I’d get the drop on her and save Izzy.

  Except Izzy wasn’t inside.

  Jonas was.

  And Penelopee had been hiding behind the fucking door.

  “Why?” I asked, though I was fairly sure I knew the answer.

  It all came down to teeth, or lack thereof.

  Penelopee flashed me another of her perfectly creepy smiles. “Did you know that you can’t eat kiwi fruit if you wear dentures?”

  “I didn’t.” Nor did I really fucking care.

  “Or almonds.” Her face fell. “I love almonds.”

  Figured. Nuts usually had a thing for nuts.

  “I haven’t eaten any in twenty years.” She grabbed my chin in her hand, receiving a pretty good shock, but she never flinched. “Do you know why, Blue?”

  I slowly shook my head, making a tsking sound through my teeth. “Poor princess, you never did get that pony, did you?”

  CHAPTER 62

  I’d assumed the first murder, Arnold Davis’s murder, was personal for the killer. More personal than I first imagined by the look of Penelopee’s too perfect albeit fake teeth. The very same fake teeth she’d worn since Izzy’s father had exacted his revenge for threatening the fairies with a lawsuit by removing every single one of her real teeth over twenty years ago.

  It had to be hard being the only eight-year-old with a full set of dentures.

  I almost felt sorry for the murderous princess.

  Almost.

  Until she answered my polite question about the pony by shoving a pair of pliers down my throat. She latched onto my back molar, ripping the tooth free along with what felt like a million nerve endings. I hate to admit it, but I screamed and continued to scream for what felt like a full hour. The pain radi
ated from the top of my head to the soles of my feet and back again.

  My body jerked with electricity, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t conjure the slightest bolt. Penelopee grinned, again flashing her dentures. “Plastic grips on the pliers. I’ve learned a lot since meeting you, dear Blue.”

  Fucking great.

  She held up my bloody molar to the light, frowned slightly, and then dropped it into a silver bowl.

  I swallowed back a wave of blood and bile, but it didn’t stay down long. Not when she moved the pliers to the tooth next to the gaping hole where my molar once sat. “Whhhaaa . . . thhhhhheee . . . ooooo?” I asked over the large metal tool.

  She pulled it free, tilting her head. “Sorry, lover, I didn’t quite catch that.”

  I spit a glob of blood and saliva at her feet. “I asked, why all the other fairies? Killing them, I mean.” I paused, searching her face. “I get killing Arnold. He’d ruined your ability to devour a steak.” And what batshit crazy princess didn’t love a good charbroiled steak? “But why the others?”

  Her head swung back and forth, as if I’d missed the point completely. “This isn’t about Arnold. I mean, it was once.” Her expression took on a faraway glow, as if reliving Arnold’s bloody murder. She shook her head, returning from wherever her crazy had gone. “I plotted my revenge against Arnold for years, but in the end his death was a beginning for my true mission. A calling, if you will.” She smiled again, and for the first time I saw the tiny cracks in her veneers. Cracks I should’ve noticed days ago.

  “You want teeth.” I gave a bitter laugh. “Real ones.”

  “Not real, Blue. Perfect.” She tapped the pliers on my forehead, not hard enough to hurt but more of an atta boy. I didn’t like it one bit better. “I’m filthy rich,” she said. “I can buy anything or,” her eyes met mine, “anyone I want.”

  Hard to argue that when I still had twenty-seven bucks of her money in my wallet. I should’ve charged her double. Not that she’d actually hired me for a real case. Nope, I was a dupe, a means to track the fairies.