Chapter Twelve
It’s days later, and still I sit at the dining room table, laptop open, watching the live camera feed aimed at Mark’s house.
Three days of waiting, actually, and nothing. He hasn’t stirred, let alone left his hiding place. The house just sits there, still and tense, like a coiled snake. I called the museum and confirmed Mark had been calling in sick. Great.
I feel frustrated because all my usual tools have been neutralized.
I can’t teleport without a major confrontation.
I also can’t tell when he’s asleep or not since he continuously leaves one light on in an upstairs bedroom.
Had he actually turned it off, I could consider teleporting into his house to have a look around.
That he is a shifter, I have no doubt. What kind of shifter, I just don’t know.
That uncertainty is driving me to hesitate.
Also, someone as guarded as him might have particularly deadly weapons at his disposal.
I wouldn’t put it past him to have guns loaded with silver bullets.
No, the only sure way to guarantee my safety and for a successful raid is for him to leave.
My body doesn’t get tired. My eyes don’t blur.
And since I don’t sleep, I can hold a stakeout for weeks if I have to; which, depressingly, this is turning into.
I don’t just want to see him leave; I want to see how he leaves.
What he wears. What he carries. Whether he steps out as a man, or something decidedly not.
A motion-activated camera would be pointless here. Passing dog walkers would set it off every ten minutes, not to mention bikes, cars, or hungry raccoons. Motion sensors are great when they’re close-range and controlled. But across the street? They can’t tell a dinosaur shifter from a mailman.
On the third night, Tammy appears in the living room, walking on cat feet.
Not literal cat feet (though with her, anything’s possible), but the girl can sneak in with the best of them.
She’s staring down at her phone, distracted, inching forward one careful step at a time, brow furrowed in concentration.
“Mom,” she says cautiously, “I know you’re buried in your thing, but… do you mind if I take off for a few hours?”
I automatically look at the time. “It’s almost 9 p.m.”
“I know, but it’s important.”
“Well, you’re eighteen and you can take care of yourself. I can’t make you do anything. But you asked if I minded. My answer is... if it’s dangerous, I want to go with you. But if it’s a Tinder date, just be safe, and don’t kill the guy if he gets a little handsy.”
She doesn’t look up from her phone or crack a grin. “Great. Can I borrow the Momvan?”
“What about your car?”
“It needs gas.”
“What makes you think I have gas?”
“Isn’t your car electric?”
“It’s half electric. Still needs some gas.”
“Don’t I pay you enough?”
“Well, I took Ant to McDonald’s today for lunch. The bill was like $70. That took up all my gas money.”
“You’re a good sister.”
“I try. But he eats me out of house and home.”
I chuckle. “Welcome to my world, kid. And what makes you think the Momvan has gas?”
“Because you’re a mom. You always have gas. You, like, have to have gas. It’s part of your job description.”
I chuckle again. “Okay, fine, but on one condition. What’s this all about?”
She shifts the weight on her feet, hesitant to tell me. “I’ve been looking into a mystery of sorts. Didn’t want to bother you with it.”
I close the laptop halfway, giving her my full attention. I feel my eyes narrowing. “What kind of mystery?”
She hesitates some more. “You know those new stories of kids losing teeth and having all those nightmares?”
“I’ve been hearing those stories, yes. Not sure what to make of them, though.”
“They’re all over TikTok, Mom. Like, all over. Search ‘Missing Teeth’ or ‘Tooth Fairy MIA’.”
“Do I have to?”
“No, but it’s a whole thing. The story is pretty universal. Kids lose their baby teeth, put them under their pillows, but instead of receiving money, they have terrible nightmares and often wake up sick, and the teeth go missing by morning. Not even a quarter is left behind!”
“I used to buy candy bars for a quarter.”
“I know. That’s because you’re old.”
“Hey, I’m only...” I do some math. Like 50 years old.”
“And you look like you’re thirty.”
“Mary Lou hates that.” I grin. “Anyway, I’m not sure how news about the tooth fairy made mainstream media.”
“Because it’s happening everywhere, Mom. People are legit freaked out. It’s almost like the tooth fairy (who’s real, by the way) has gone missing, or got hijacked. But the stories are less about her and more about the nightmares.”
“And someone called Moon Investigations for help?”
“Not quite. I sort of took it upon myself to look into this. I’ve been developing a case file... The Tooth Fairy Files, I call it. And I want to talk to one of the families mentioned in the latest news article.”
“You’re taking the initiative,” I say.
“Exactly. Do you mind if I work on it?”
“I don’t mind, but just please call me if you need any help.”
She nods. “Of course. But—”
“But you can handle yourself. I know.”
“Well, I want to work this on my own. You have seen me turn into a panther and a bear, right?”
“I have.” Truth was, I couldn’t be more relieved that my daughter had been given such powerful magic all those years ago. Knowing she and Ant are always safe is a huge relief for me. Now, I only have to worry about Pax.
“Why do you want to get involved, Tammy?”
She leans forward, eyes brightening with excitement and just a hint of nerves. “I think someone’s hijacked the Tooth Fairy network—which is totally a real thing—and I think I’m just the one to fix it.”
A smile tugs at my lips. My daughter, the fairy-witch detective. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“No crazier than looking for evidence of a dinosaur shifter.”
“Touché. And that’s alleged dinosaur shifter. I haven’t seen one yet.”
“Well, the tooth fairy is a fae creature... like me! In fact, she might even by my aunt.”
“Come again.”
“She’s Queen Maple’s sister.”
“Your aunt is the Tooth Fairy.”
“We’re talking about my second family, ma. And step-aunt might be a better term. Just like Queen Maple isn’t my blood mom. But I sure think of her as my mom.”
I shake my head. “Can’t hear that enough.”
“Well, she did raise me in the fairy world, mom. She taught me, fed me, and protected me. Sounds like a mom to me.”
“And it all happened in one night.”
“For you. Not for me.”
“I think I still have PTSD about it,” I said. “Like, when I wake up in the morning, will you be my same daughter, or did like the Ogre Queen scurry you away for a third childhood?”
“Ogres don’t have that kind of magic. Only Queen Maple.”
“That’s a relief,” I say. “I find it ironic that my daughter, the goth girl, is now as close to being a fairy as humanly possible.”
“Which is why I think I can fix the disruption.”
“Fine. Take the Momvan,” I say, sighing. “But be careful.”
She beams, grabbing her jacket off the coat rack. “I will. Keys?”
“On the key ring hook.”
“Right, duh.”
As she heads out the door, I sit back in my chair, a warm flicker of pride spreading through my chest. While I’m here watching Mark’s boring house, Tammy’s out working her own case, charting her own path, chasing down her own kind of weird.
I like that for some reason. I like that a lot.
And something tells me she’s going to be just fine.
Tooth Fairy? Who makes this stuff up? Is that you again, Mr. Rain? If so, you have entirely too much time on your hands.
Will someone please find this guy a girlfriend?