CHAPTER 12
My security system woke me at seven in the morning. “Damn it,” I muttered, reaching for my really big gun, which lay tucked under my pillow. The cold metal offered some comfort after too little sleep and a wealth of surreal dreams, all featuring a certain redheaded fairy with bulletproof wings.
I pushed open the shower curtain that hung across my bedroom doorway, aiming the gun in the general direction of the front door. Nobody was there. However, Peter Piper Pickle cans were scattered across the floor, some oozing year-old pickle juice into the burn holes in my carpet.
“Sorry about that,” Izzy said, poking her head out of my kitchen. “I went out to grab a coffee and knocked the cans over when I came back in.”
I raised an eyebrow, not sure if I believed her. “Coffee?” I glanced at the coffee table with a surprising amount of hope. Hope turned to annoyance when the only thing I saw on the table was a fish tank with a green-gilled goldfish inside. “Listen,” I began, “you don’t leave this place without me. Got it?”
“Fine.” She disappeared into the kitchen, and a few seconds later my sink gurgled. Buttoning my jeans, I followed her into the kitchen. She stood at the sink, pouring the last dregs of an extra-large coffee with the name BLUE emblazoned on the side down the drain. When she finished pouring she snatched another, smaller cup of coffee from the countertop and took a sip.
My stomach growled with caffeinated desire.
“Yum.” She licked her plump lips. “Decaf. You might wanna try it sometime. Then you won’t be so cranky in the morning.”
Closing my eyes, I counted to ten before addressing this fairy pain in the ass. “I’m not cranky,” I wailed like a four-year-old. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“And I appreciate it.” She fluttered her long auburn lashes at me. “Really. I do.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And now that you’re up . . .” Her face warmed, whether from excitement or the coffee I didn’t know. “I’ll get changed and we can stop off at the rectory to get my things and then pay the twins a visit.”
“You can’t come with me.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“It’s too dangerous.”
Her other flame-colored brow rose, matching the first.
We stood like that in silence for a few minutes. Neither speaking nor moving an inch. I would never give in. I was Blue Reynolds, damn it. She would do what I said, when I said, and like it.
Two minutes later, when a cramp started in my left calf, I snatched the coffee from her hand and drank it in one gulp. “Fine. You’ll do exactly as I say.”
“Of course.”
Yeah, right. “And you’ll keep quiet.”
“Anything else?” Her eyes grew a darker shade of sapphire. “Shall I walk ten paces behind you? Spit shine your boots? Maybe toss rose petals at your big, dumb feet? Whatever your wish, I am here only to serve.”
I glanced down at my bare feet. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
About an hour later, after we picked up Izzy’s suitcase from the church, I knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment. “Clayton? Peyton?” I called out. No answer. Izzy stood behind me. Her warm, innately minty breath tickled the back of my neck. It was both erotic and distracting; neither helped our plight.
I knocked again, this time with more force.
Still no answer.
Those two winged pests were inside; I could feel it. Feel their devilish glee. I kicked the door for good measure. “Damn fairies,” I said.
“Hey—”
I grinned. “No offense.”
“A lot taken.” She closed her eyes and then slowly opened them, as if trying to hold her temper. “So what now? Do we sit here and wait for them to come home? Or leave a note?”
I chuckled. “A note? What’s it going to say? ‘Please call at your earliest convenience as Blue plans to break your tiny kneecaps’?”
She laughed. “Probably not the best approach. So what’s your idea?”
“It’s a good one.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Is it now?”
I glanced up and down the empty hallway before lifting my foot high enough to kick the flimsy lock on the twins’ door. My boot struck wood with a loud bang. The door crashed inward, exploding from its hinges and landing on the floor.
Ever the gentleman, after I quickly scanned the room for danger, I bent at the waist, motioning her inside. “After you.”
She smiled, stepping inside the apartment. I followed behind, my forehead scraping along the five-foot-high ceiling, removing a few layers of skin.
I surveyed the tiny apartment. The single room was trashed. Furniture lay broken and scattered across the living area. Bits of glass and tiny ceramic fairy figurines crunched underfoot.
“Clayton?” I searched the room, seeing nothing but violence and destruction. Either the twins hated housecleaning or the bad guys had worked overtime this morning. One never knew with them. “Peyton?”
Isabella inhaled sharply. “Oh my God.”
I spun to face whatever had drawn her attention and swallowed my own girlish cry. A piece of green wing, the same shade as the twins’ wings, poked out from the refrigerator door. I pulled my really big gun and slowly maneuvered my way toward the fridge.
“Don’t open it,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Go stand by the front door,” I ordered, and without checking to see if she complied, I jerked the refrigerator door open. A piece of what looked to be a strap-on pair of glittery wings, the same kind I’d seen at Barry’s shop, fluttered to the floor, along with a cascade of bruised vegetables and a nearly empty bottle of ketchup that oozed a river of red.
“Is that blood?” she whispered from across the room, her gaze locked on the red puddle growing at my feet.
“No. Ketchup,” I said, lifting the fake wing up to show her. “What do you make of this?”
Slowly she came forward, her eyes narrowing on the green bit of glittery wing. “I don’t understand. Why would the twins have fake wings?”
I scratched my chin, my gaze focused on her face, then dropping to the broken wing. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“What?”
I spun the torn wing around, tearing a tag from the back. A tag that read BARRY’S COSTUME SHOP. The same shop where Izzy had purchased her nun’s habit. Too much of a coincidence for my peace of mind. “It’s time to come clean. What’s going on here, Isabella?”
Her lips pinched into a frown, which oddly did nothing to detract from her beauty. “You think I’m somehow involved in this . . . whatever this is? Are you crazy? I’ve been hiding from the twins and the rest of the Fairy Council for weeks. Why would I do that if I was in on whatever this is?” She gestured about the battered apartment.
Not sure if I could trust her let alone believe a word coming from her glossy lips, I shoved the fake bit of wing into my pocket. Then I began a systematic search, sifting through every cupboard, drawer, and cookie jar, looking for some clue as to the twins’ whereabouts or what those two winged devils were up to. Something didn’t smell right and, surprisingly, it wasn’t the twins’ cabbagey aroma.
I did find a suspicious splatter of blood in the bathroom shower but no other sign of foul play. Maybe one of the boys cut himself while shaving. Izzy stood behind me, staring at the bloody tile. “Do you think they’re . . .”
“Dead?” I gave a small laugh without much humor. “Probably.”
“But why?”
“I’m not sure, but I have a theory.”
“I’m all atwitter.”
I grinned at her sarcastic tone. “You’ve met the two of them, right?”