Tooth and Nail

by Jennifer Safrey

  “No,” she said. “He was honest. You were the one who raised the possibility of a fight.”

  I twisted my mouth with the realization that she was quite right.

  “We’re curious about you, you know?” she said. “We knew Frederica found you a while ago. She didn’t want to bring you here until we identified the threat. And,” she added, her voice chirpy again, “you’re, well, you’re like a miracle to us. You’re the first warrior to come out of our lineage, the collector lineage, so not only are you a fae star, you’re our star.”

  She grinned, and I tried to grin back, but I had a feeling my face conveyed nothing but bewilderment—bewilderment that these brilliantly ahead-of-any-human’s-time fae could consider me any kind of hero.

  “That’s enough,” Svein said. Apparently I didn’t hold the same appeal to him. “I’ll explain the rest to her. She’s mine now.”

  “I beg your pardon,” I told him.

  “That’s right. See, sweetheart, I’m your new mentor.”

  “My mentor,” I repeated, hoping I’d misheard.

  “That’s right.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I don’t think so. Where’s Frederica?”

  “In bed, I imagine,” Svein said. “She works nights.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t sleep.”

  Mr. Enigma. “I’ll stay up tonight,” I said, “and wait for Frederica.”

  “Frederica’s a recruiter and a guide,” he said. “Not a trainer. I’m not looking forward to this any more than you are, if it makes you feel any better.”

  “It does.”

  “Because not only do I have to train you,” he went on, “I have to oversee your transformation.” He turned to the small fae woman I’d quickly come to respect as an ally of mine. “Reese, we’ll need the Butterfly Room,” he said.

  “I prepared it this morning,” she said. “Gemma’s all set.”

  “Wait a minute,” I cut in. “What transformation?”

  “Yours,” Svein said, “so you can become one of us instead of what you are now.”

  “Svein,” Reese warned.

  “What’s your problem?” I demanded of Svein. “For a mentor, you have a hell of a snarky attitude.”

  “And for someone who knows zero about us and what you’ll have to be, you have one hell of a cocky attitude.”

  Agreed. But I wouldn’t apologize for it, because it was how I got by. Clearly, this was how Svein got by, but I didn’t see why he had to resort to it at the moment. I was on his turf, and I’d be playing by his rules.

  I turned to Reese. “You said you identified the threat. What is it? That’s why I’m here.”

  “It’s not a what, it’s a who,” Reese said. “We found…”

  “I found,” Svein interrupted her. And, to me, “You don’t get to hear one more thing until the transformation and some training. I’ll see whether you are what they say you are.”

  I wished I could retort that I was, but truth was, I didn’t really know myself yet.

  “Whenever you’re ready.” He stalked out one of several side doors. I glanced at Reese.

  “I’ve met plenty of people who have issues with me,” I said, “but I’d known them at least a half-hour or so.”

  Reese sighed with her slight shoulders. “You didn’t like him right away either,” she pointed out.

  I didn’t, but I didn’t want to tell her why. He’d made me feel vulnerable for those first few seconds, when he’d drawn me into him and made me forget everything else in my life. “What did he do to me?”

  Reese smiled. “It’s a fae glamour. You’ll get that. You’ll be immune to it yourself when you do.”

  I remembered Smiley’s, and the guys’ reaction to Frederica, and then the same thing at the coffee shop.

  “Svein’s in Archives,” Reese said. “He’s the chief archivist, and he knows a lot. His trainees are among the best.” She bit her lip. “He’s—well, he’s a little hard to figure out. But I know Frederica was right to assign him to work with you. I’m sure he’ll be a good mentor.”

  “I thought he was a collector.”

  “We’re all collectors. Most of our collectors are freelance but all of us at Headquarters work rotating shifts as collectors.”

  “Who pays you? I mean, who’s paying for all this?”

  “Fae landlords, fae philanthropists, fae scientists and specialists,” she said. “You’ve met lots of fae in your lifetime and you don’t even know it.”

  “That’s what my mother said.”

  She nodded. “They donate time, money, resources, manpower. Fae intelligence is greater than human, and they achieve more as an average group than any average group of humans. Gives us an edge, financially and socially. And we age a little more slowly, giving us more time. Go down to Budget sometime and they can give you more details if you’re interested, although I do know most of the backers remain anonymous even to us because of their high status in human society.”

  “I’ll get paid?” Yeah, I was ready to collect innocence and fight for fae survival because it was my destiny and I believed in the Olde Way, but let’s face it, a little something every Friday was always a plus.

  “Ask Frederica, but I think you’ll pull a collector’s paycheck for the time being,” Reese said. “We recruit a bunch of fae from unemployment lines, because they’re free to work nights. Some fae seek us out if they want a break from their full-time jobs. And they never stay to retirement age. The average collector does a few years and that’s it. So we have to keep recruiting.”

  “Got one!” This time it was a woman who put her hand up, and the supervisor approached her in a hurry.

  “What’s next?” I asked Reese. “For me, I mean.”

  Reese squeezed my arm with a smile. “Your transformation. Don’t be scared.”

  “Should I be?”

  “No, no,” Reese hurriedly assured me. “Svein will take care of you, and then you’ll get acquainted with your new collector job.”

  “I’m here for something else,” I said. “You said it when I came in. The ones like me who came before me? The threat?”

  “Ask Svein,” she said. “That’s his—well, it’s his investigation. You’ll work with him. But I’m here to help you with anything else.” She snatched a pen and Post-It off a nearby table, and scratched a phone number on it. “Me,” she said, “if you need anything. Oh, and I almost forgot.” She disappeared for a quick moment and returned with a metal ring that held about two pounds’ worth of keys. “For the D.C. area safe houses. If you’re planning to go out of town, let us know and we can supply you with key access wherever you’re going, if you like.”

  The shape of her grin told me it would be an honor for her to help me. The fae had found me, had brought me here and, I suspected, gotten hopes up about my abilities. I worried about letting Reese down, about letting down everyone in this room, and the tradition we all came from.

  However, I really didn’t give a rat’s ass if I let Svein Nilsen down. That rebelliousness pushed me forward.

  >=<

  I walked down the long hallway, turned my first left as Reese had instructed me and, sure enough, a small purple butterfly was carved into the wood of the first door I came to. The Butterfly Room.

  I entered a room that could have been called cozy, but only as a default characteristic of its cramped space. I myself wouldn’t have gone so far as to call it cozy because Svein was draped over the only chair in the room—an armchair that looked as though it had seen better-stuffed days.

  He didn’t bother with a verbal acknowledgement, and I tried to interpret his expression, but I got lost somewhere between seductive and hostile.

  “Now what?” I asked him.

  “Transformation,” he said.

  “Right, into something more or less acceptable to you.”

  “It has nothing to do with me. It has so little to do with me that I wasn’t even consulted before they brought you in.”

&nb
sp; “Ha,” I said. “I knew it. You had a beef with me the minute I walked in the door.”

  “I have a problem with everyone behaving as though you’re some kind of fae messiah when the truth is you have no idea what you are and what you’re supposed to be doing.”

  “I’m a tooth faerie,” I told him.

  He winced.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, not ‘faerie.’ I’m tooth fae, okay? I’m supposed to be collecting teeth, with a side assignment of butt-kicking.”

  “It’s the butt-kicking that’s the issue. You’re even more volatile than I thought you’d be, and I don’t want you kicking and screaming your way through my investigation.”

  “I’m a boxer, actually.”

  “Point is,” he said, unfolding himself from his chair and standing, “the situation is delicate. I don’t need some half-cocked half-human going in swinging.”

  “Identifying the threat, that was your job, wasn’t it?” I asked, trying to keep up my end of the conversation so I didn’t prove him right by clocking him on the side of the head. “You know who it is. You figured it out.”

  “I narrowed it down and narrowed it down until I pinpointed the location. I know what needs to be done, and who needs to be taken out, and they brought you in to do it. You.”

  “You think you can do better? Then be my guest.” I waited a beat. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t. You can’t fight.”

  He only had to take one step closer for our faces to be less than an inch apart. I felt his breath on my cheek. His shoulder twitched, and I dodged the punch I saw coming.

  I didn’t really believe he’d intended to connect, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I bounced on my toes, fists up. I feinted left, and grinned.

  Then he fell back into the chair cushion, swept his leg into the backs of my knees, and sent me crashing to the carpet.

  Pain flared in my elbow where I broke my fall, and in my new vulnerability, I put my forearm up to block whatever he’d hit me with next.

  But he grasped my arm and hauled me to my feet. “Don’t ever,” he growled, “say I can’t fight. I’m a black belt in taekwondo, with a little muay thai and Krav Maga in the mix. I’m a proficient fighter, when I’m in a sparring match. Or when I’m teaching a bigmouthed half-breed a lesson.”

  I rolled my shoulders back and forth, circled my neck.

  “As soon as you perceived me as a real threat,” he said, “and I sensed it, I couldn’t make another offensive attack. I can go through the motions as long as the emotion stays neutral. When it becomes violence, I have no choice but to stop.”

  So he’d smoked out the fae’s enemy but couldn’t fight the battle. Might make me a little edgy too. I rubbed my elbow.

  “I signed on for this,” I said. “I understand your frustration, but I chose this because I do know who I am, and I do know what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m the front line for all of us against a threat. The only thing I’m missing is the how and the who. Frederica didn’t bring me in to finish your job. She brought me in to help you see it through. So you might want to let me in on it sometime soon.”

  He said nothing for a long time. Then he nodded, imperceptibly at first, but I saw it, even before his nods became heavier and true.

  “Let’s get you to the room,” he said. “No sense prolonging this.”

  He grabbed a clipboard from off a small, shaky desk and opened a door that I’d assumed was a closet. He ushered me into an antiseptic-like anteroom. The walls were painted eggshell, and a sign on the door instructed to make sure the first door was closed before opening the next. Svein obeyed, and ushered me into the Butterfly Room.

  The padded Butterfly Room.

  Floor to ceiling pads, in case someone was inclined to flip out at any moment. I turned to ask Svein what the hell was going on, but he’d slipped out and closed me in. I heard a lock turn.

  I banged on the door with a fist. “Svein! Open the door!” I opened my fist and whacked on the door with my two open palms. “What the hell am I doing in here? Open up!”

  “Gemma.” His voice echoed above me and all around me. I stopped banging.

  “Svein?”

  “That’s me. I can hear and see you. Speakers are in the four corners. See them?”

  I did, but it didn’t quell my fast-growing anxiety.

  “Camera’s in the upper corner to the left of the door. See it?”

  I did, but again, no reassurance whatsoever. “Why am I in a padded cell?”

  “Everyone reacts differently to a transformation.”

  “Who else transforms?” I asked. “Aren’t I the only half-fae around?”

  “There are partial transformations, for those who need to bind a certain ability for whatever reason.”

  I wanted to ask him whether I was going to look any different, but remembered that I lived with my mother all those years and she looked perfectly normal—perfectly human. “What’s going to happen here, exactly?”

  “Your physical fae traits have been dormant your whole life. We’re going to awaken them. You’ll still be you—God help me.”

  “Hey!”

  “Your fae side will physically manifest. But Gemma, you have to go with it. Your human side will fight this. You have to let up, and let go. Whatever you feel, you have to go with it. Do you understand?”

  “Not exactly.” I was starting to panic, though.

  “The process of transformation will bring out everything underneath, including any emotions you’ve been hiding, fears you have, feelings you don’t express every day.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the type to hold things inside.”

  “Yeah, I’d noticed.” I think he smiled, and I caught myself regretting I wasn’t able to see it. “But we’re all deeper than our surfaces. You have to ride the wave. It won’t take too long.”

  While we’d been talking, the lights had dimmed, and the air was starting to feel thick around me, like a blanket being wrapped around my head. I sat down on the floor, and the padded surface squished under me. “Will it hurt?” I asked, softly enough for Svein to possibly not hear me, because I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

  My mind was melting. I rolled over, tucking my legs under me and curling my fingers.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said more gently than I thought he could, “I’m right here.”

  “Promise?” I couldn’t make my lips form the word properly, and it came out in a mumble. A part of me was mortified that I even asked him that, but that part was fading away with the rest of me. I closed my eyes.

  “How could it hurt?” he said, his voice a lullaby. “You’re returning to yourself.

  “Gemma,” he said, “You’ll emerge with wings.”

  A burst of indigo surfaced in the middle of my mind, and spilled like dark, cool ink into every corner. It filled my ears, my eyes, my mouth, and dripped down the rest of me. My fingers moved in it, and my toes. I smiled, because it was a dream, a good one.

  My mother tucked me in. My head pressed against the cool cotton of my pillow and my mother’s hands laced through my hair. She bent to kiss my forehead and I caught a whiff of her perfume and my nose tickled and twitched. My father was silhouetted in the doorway behind her, and he said, “I love you.” I couldn’t hear him but I didn’t have to. I was safe.

  The inky fluid in and around me dissolved as a sunburst exploded in the center of my chest, sending powerful rays down my arms and legs. I walked across the stage to receive my college degree. I arrived for my first day at the polling office and walked straight through my cubicle wall to get to my desk. I won an amateur bout and threw my gloves up with pride. I punched a heavy bag and my fist blew through canvas and stuffing and came out the other side.

  I pulled my arm back to strike again, but a ribbon of pink wound its way around my heart and squeezed softly. I dropped back into Avery’s embrace. I breathed with him. I inhaled his breath and his love and my love radiated out of my face in sparkles that danced in the air between us
. I closed my eyes again but I still saw him smiling; I basked in the rosy warmth.

  But the warmth turned hotter and hotter and suddenly it was bright red and it wasn’t in me—it was outside of me, jabbing at me, burning me. Avery’s loving gaze grew hard. “No,” I said, and he turned and walked away. “Avery, don’t go!” I cried, and when he looked back at me, his face was my father’s. “No!” I screamed, in a voice that tore out of my gut. Ripples ran up and down my back, pain blossoming from my shoulder blades. “Dad!” I clawed at my own skin, tearing at my shirt to get hold of my own anguish. “Dad!”

  He didn’t see me, or he didn’t care. He left me and the red followed him out, giving way to black.

  I collapsed, weak and spent.

  Eventually, the green came in and carried me on soothing waves back into my body. I knew I was back, but I stayed there consciously in that moment, letting my heart beat my own way again.

  When I opened my eyes, I discovered my head was cradled in Svein’s lap. And when I tried to sit up, I discovered I was without my shirt.

  CHAPTER 8

  "I think I should be outraged,” I said, my tongue thick in my mouth, “but I don’t have the energy.” I pushed myself onto my knees and sat on my feet, wrapping an arm around my front.

  “I was sure you’d have at least a couple of tattoos,” Svein commented. “A fire-breathing dragon, or a tiger in mid-leap.”

  “Just give me my shirt.”

  He handed it to me and it didn’t look like my black long-sleeved cotton shirt as much as a tattered scrap left over from a pissed-off pit bull’s tirade. “Turn around.”

  He pushed himself to his feet and obeyed. “You ripped it off,” he said. “And you had a hard time coming back into reality, so I came in to pull you back. You needed an anchor of security.”

  “I’m not sure you would have been my first choice for that job,” I said, trying to figure out which hole was for my head.

  “I was your last connection with reality.”

  “I think my last connection with reality was sometime yesterday,” I told him. “And anyway, I have a headache like someone slammed me with a two-by-four. I hope you knew what you were doing in that room.”