Tooth decay with a side.., p.1
Tooth Decay With a Side of Fae, page 1
Tooth Decay With A Side of Fae
The Tooth Fairy Chronicles
Book One
Victoria Rocus
For Victor…my Mo Shiorghra…my one and only… my now and always
Also by Victoria Rocus
The Tooth Fairy Chronicles
Tooth Decay With A Side Of Fae
Toothaches And Wedding Cakes
Baby Tooth And Tangled Roots
Contents
GLOSSARY AND PRONUNCIATION OF ANCIENT OTHERWORLD GAELIC
TOOTH 1
TOOTH 2
TOOTH 3
TOOTH 4
TOOTH 5
TOOTH 6
TOOTH 7
TOOTH 8
TOOTH 9
TOOTH 10
TOOTH 11
TOOTH 12
TOOTH 13
TOOTH 14
TOOTH 15
TOOTH 16
TOOTH 17
TOOTH 18
TOOTH 19
TOOTH 20
TOOTH 21
TOOTH 22
TOOTH 23
TOOTH 24
TOOTH 25
TOOTH 26
TOOTH 27
TOOTH 28
TOOTH 29
TOOTH 30
TOOTH 31
TOOTH 32
TOOTH 33
TOOTH 34
TOOTH 35
TOOTH 36
TOOTH 37
TOOTH 38
TOOTH 39
TOOTH 40
TOOTH 41
TOOTH 42
TOOTH 43
TOOTH 44
TOOTH 45
TOOTH 46
Also by Victoria Rocus
More from Serenade Publishing
About the Author
Acknowledgments
GLOSSARY AND PRONUNCIATION OF ANCIENT OTHERWORLD GAELIC
Athair - (ǎ-hair) - “father” - when capitalized, used as a formal title
Bod - (bŭd) - “penis, dick” - slang word
Cac - (cock) - “shit” – slang word
Danu - (dă-new) - “Mother goddess” - ancient Celtic goddess of fertility
Duana - (dō-a-na) “dark and swarthy” - Duncan Fitzpatrick’s secret code name
Gancanagh - (ghan-kan-ah) - “love talker” - Celtic incubus
Iasc Dearg - (yesk dearg) - “Red Fish”- a sport fish found in the streams of the Otherworld
I Idir - (ē ēdar) “In Between”- the Fae kingdom in the Otherworld ruled byThe Morrigan, Queen Maeve, as its monarch.
Leannain Siorai - (Yee- ann Shir-ee) - “Eternal Lovers”
Mac- (mc)- “son of”- a title given to an eldest son and heir of a Ruling House
Mag Turied - (măd twired) - “Plains of the Pillar” - a mythical battle in which King Nuada lost his arm and had it replaced with a silver one
Mathair - (mǎ-hair) - “mother” - when capitalized, used as a formal title.
Mo Chailin - (mō ha-lean) - “My Girl”
Mo Mhuirnin - (a whar-hean) - “my darlin” or “my sweetheart” - the name of Declan’s horse in the Beltane Stiopal competition
Mo Shiorghra - (mō hear-gra) - “My Eternal Love” - a soulmate in magical Fae tradition
Nasctha - (nŏs-ka) - “bonded”- refers to “fated mates” in magical Fae tradition
Nuada - (new-a-da) - the name of an ancient Celtic king who possessed a silver arm; a major House from that bloodline within I Idir’s Ruling Council
Ridre Dubh - (rid-ada dōv) - “Black Knight” - the “Hand of Justice in I Idir” and The Morrigan’s right-hand counsel; a position currently held by the 27th Merlin, Theodore H. Beckett (Myrdynn)
Sidhe - (Shē) - the term used for the Fae race in Celtic mythology, as well as the forts and mounds they once lived in during ancient times.
Siobhan - (Shiv-awn) - a Celtic female name meaning “gracious gift”
Stiopal - (Stē-ōval) - “Steeple” - a equestrian race of skill held in I Idir during Beltane
Tir na Fathach - (tear na fa-ha) - “Land of the Giants” - mountainous property on the border between the Otherworld kingdoms of I Idir and Avalon, and currently under the care of House Nuada
Tuatha de Danann - (two-ha de dan-an) “The Shining Ones”- a race of ancient, magically gifted Fae with royal bloodlines. They currently compose I Idir’s ruling council under the Monarchy of The Morrigan, Queen Maeve
Ysbaddaden - (yes-badaden) - “Chief of the Giants”- a foreboding giant character from ancient Celtic mythology
TOOTH 1
MR. SNUGGLES
It was all the cat’s fault. Mr. Snuggles was the reason I found myself hiding under the plastic canopy bed in a Calico Critter’s Country Cottage while that tabby demon swatted at me with scratching post sharpened claws. Nowhere in my orders was there even a mention that the house at 1628 Hollyhock Lane was under the protection of a Felis Catus. Assignments with this type of hazard were always assigned to Extractors at Molar level or higher. I was still a mere Deciduous Cadet, a snatch and grab kind of Extractor. Taking on a sneaky, evil feline was not part of my job description. Worst of all, despite a thorough examination of every nook and cranny under the kid’s pillow, there was no sign of any baby tooth.
Mr. Snuggles had managed to push the tiny bed away from the wall and was now batting it back and forth across the vinyl floor, obviously trying to knock it over and retrieve the meaty fairy nugget hanging on underneath it for dear life. I was at the point of having no other choice but to push the panic button on my locket. It would mean yet another write-up, but in the whole scheme of things, it was still better than ending up as a Fairy Fancy Feast.
Seconds later, a laser pointer light appeared in the far corner of the child’s bedroom. Mr. Snuggles was on it in an instant, leaving me free to crawl out from under the bed. Erik Ashton, Molar Extractor Extraordinaire, joined me in the Calico Critter Cottage. Just peachy. It would have to be Erik on call this evening.
“Again, Parker?” Erik moved the laser around the room, keeping Mr. Snuggles far away from the two of us. “Isn’t this like the third time this month?”
Just about every female in the Corps, and several males as well, lusted after Erik, and he had slept with most of them. In his Mundane life, he was a social media influencer, a pretty internet face with all the right words and the ability to start trends on a whim. Yet, there was no denying his skill within the Corps. Ashton was willing to go anywhere, handle any situation, no matter how hazardous, to retrieve that precious baby tooth. He was a legend, and in my opinion, the meanest sonofabitch I’d ever met.
He looked at me, the usual disgust noticeable in his sneer. “I’m getting tired of rescuing your fat ass, Parker. You know I gotta write you up again. I hope you at least retrieved the tooth before you started playing dollhouse?”
“Yeah, about that…I checked everywhere under that pillow, Erik. There’s no tooth.”
He tisked and waved the laser pointer around in circles, making Mr. Snuggles run around until he began to trip and stumble, obviously dizzy. I was starting to feel sorry for the damn cat. I knew firsthand how it felt to be under Erik’s thumb.
“God damn it, Parker. Can’t you do anything right? Now I’ll have to look for myself.” The cat had collapsed in an exhausted heap, allowing Erik easy access to the child’s pillow. He slithered under it without the slightest notice from the sleeping occupant but was back in less than a minute, scowling.
“Let me see your orders, Parker.” He pulled out a tiny flashlight from the pocket of his leather pants. I let myself gloat for a mere instant. It wasn’t my fault. Someone at dispatch had screwed up this time.
I watched as he pointed the flashlight at the paper then held it up with the flashlight behind it. “What’s the address here?” he snarled.
“1628 Hollyhock Lane. Just like it says, Erik.” I tried to sound innocent but wasn’t working too hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“Well, it appears you’re both a slob and a moron, Parker! That’s a 3, not an 8. You’re supposed to be at 1623. There’s some kind of stain on this paper, right over the address. Looks like coffee. Do you always use your Corps Orders as a coaster?” He shoved the paper and the flashlight at me, but I didn’t take them from him. I didn’t need to look for myself. I knew he probably was right. I remembered putting my mug down on a stack of papers.
“Sorry, Erik. I’ll head over to 1623 and handle the extraction.”
“Do it pronto, Cadet. Daylight is in less than an hour. This better be the last time I have to save your sorry ass, otherwise you’ll be polishing bicuspids from now until you’re ninety.” He turned to leave but then added, “And Parker…see about requesting a bigger uniform. You look like a sausage in that one.”
On that pleasant note he was gone. I gathered up my tools and prepared to leave before Mr. Snuggles got a second wind. Erik was right about me needing to move my ass. I had less than forty minutes to get to 1623 and retrieve the tooth. My ability to move magically in the Mundane World as a member of the Tooth Fairy Corps disappears with the rising of the sun. I’d have a hard time explaining why Rosalinda Parker, D.D.S. was found standing in a strange kid’s bedroom wearing too tight black leather pants and a pink satin shirt with a giant tooth on the back. No excuse would ever cover that. Not in Salem, Massachusetts, where residents already are touchy about anything odd or supernatural.
I’d never asked for this job. It’s supposed to go to the eldest child of a c
I didn’t need this Tooth Fairy shit. I was plenty happy in my Mundane job. Happy to be just Dr. Rosie to my pint-sized patients. My practice had grown so much in the past three years that I had to hire two new hygienists and even needed to knock out a side wall to enlarge my waiting room. If my practice left me with little time for the social niceties other women my age enjoyed, it was worth the price. I loved working in pediatric dentistry. What I didn’t like was the expectation that I should feel privileged to help the common good of the Fae Otherworld as one of thousands of low level Sidhe destined to carry out the work of the tooth fairy.
I blinked over to the house at 1623, retrieved the tooth without any issues, and slipped it into my satin bag. Once I got back home, I planned to deposit it with the others in my home safe. I knew that I really needed to take a few days off and make time for a deposit drop in I Idir, my Otherworld hometown. My safe at home held double the number of teeth that regulations suggest we store in the Mundane World.
Normal people have the wrong idea about the whole tooth fairy legend. Parents in the Mundane World regard it as a cute little folk tale created to encourage good dental hygiene, but it’s a hell of a lot more complex than that. Since the beginning of time, teeth have been a greatly desired commodity in the Fae Otherworld, a necessary ingredient for a whole list of dark arts and magical spells. Lately, something more sinister has become a huge problematic issue.
The root of the tooth contains a decent amount of DNA, some of it magical in mixed blood children. Certain agencies in the Mundane World are experimenting with this DNA in an effort to extract components that would make it possible for non-preternaturals to cross over into the Otherworld dimension without the immediate physical side effects they usually suffer. The crisis this would cause by the Mundanes in the Fae Otherworld makes me shudder. The Morrigan and her special Corps of assets have been doing what they can to keep this from happening, but for how long they can prevent it is the real question.
Gathering up the tooth bag, I close my eyes and wish myself home. I open one eye and then the other. Yup. I’m in the right place. Normal sized and safe and sound at home, the smell of those overripe bananas I keep forgetting to throw away an olfactory reminder I made it back safely. I use Fae magic so infrequently that I’m still nervous it won’t work like it is supposed to. I peel off the sweaty uniform and throw it into a corner. Erik was right. I need the next size up, but requesting leather pants in size 2x turns my stomach. Two cows would have to sacrifice themselves for trousers that size.
That thought should have sent me straight for the Low Fat-High Protein Kale Smoothie I promised myself I’d have for breakfast. It didn’t. My screw-up and Erik’s nasty comments called for something yummy to fill the dark empty spot that’s now wormed its way inside of me. I break two eggs in a bowl, add some vanilla and a half cup of heavy cream and whip it all together. Ten minutes later, I sit down, alone, to brioche French toast with fresh strawberries, a Cafe Au Lait, heavy on the milk, and a side chaser of insecure discontent.
TOOTH 2
BLOWING OUT A MATCH
Thursday is my “late day.” I normally don’t start seeing patients until 1:00 PM, which makes for a late evening but keeps me off the Extraction Schedule for that particular day. The Tooth Fairy Corps normally frowns upon life in the Mundane World taking precedence over Extraction duties, but my professional life in dentistry, especially in pediatrics, gives me easy access to lost teeth that otherwise might wind up in the wrong hands, so I’m allowed a bit more leeway than your average Cadet. It also leaves my mornings free for the hobby that is the true passion in my life.
I have been fascinated by tiny things for as long as I can remember. My mother always was convinced it was due to my Fae DNA, my soul’s longing to live in the Otherworld where my size wouldn’t matter. What she really meant was that I secretly wished I wasn’t the chubby little Fatso the world saw me as. Although my sister hadn’t inherited any of my Mom’s Tooth Fairy DNA, she was blessed by the Universe with her lithe, willowy build. Mom was able to wear junior brand clothes in size 4 well into her fifties, even after two babies and a long-celebrated career as Salem’s most sought-after pastry chef. My sister, Claire, obviously was cut from the same cloth, minus the Fae shit. She just gave birth to fully human twins, my nephews, Daniel and Jamison, a little over five weeks ago and she already is able to wear all of her super chic and tiny pre-pregnancy attire. It’s more than a little annoying. The least she could do is to have a little bit of muffin top hanging over the waistband of her skinniest jeans.
Except for my handful of nuisance preternatural genes, I apparently take after my dad in the DNA Wheel of Fortune. Dad, along with every person in his family, is as round as he is tall, the progeny of hearty peasant stock from eastern Europe with appetites better suited for heavy labor, not the sedate desk jobs most currently have. I’m pretty sure I was born fat, two weeks past my due date and a whopping nine pounds. Every photo from my childhood shows me chubby-cheeked and standing on thick ankles. Not much has changed over the years, except that now I regularly get to wear a white lab coat that gives me an all-over “Stay-Puff Marshmallow” look.
So maybe Ma was right after all. I’m obsessed with these dollhouse miniatures because they are little and cute, something I definitely am not. In my mind though, I reason that it’s more about creating a story, a back-history, for every room I make. All my houses have imaginary characters living in them, and I plan, build and decorate according to the stories I’ve invented in my head. It lets me be creative on a level that my real life, with its schedules, rules and routines, doesn’t allow. My dollhouse world is a perfect world that I can control with a touch of paint or a carefully placed chair, and it belongs to me and me alone.
Thursday mornings are devoted entirely to my hobby. Today, my plans include staining shingles for my newest addition, a bungalow cottage I’ve imagined is located somewhere on Cape Cod’s shoreline, and then prepping the walls in the foyer of my three-story Victorian for a coat of buttermilk colored paint I hope to put on later this evening. Being able to shrink down on command from sunset to sunrise is my secret weapon to achieve near perfection with my houses. Using full-sized, human hands makes it nearly impossible to get into those tight spaces around corners and windows but when you yourself are in 1/12 scale, it’s a piece of cake to get a more professional look. Most evenings when I’m on Extraction duty I come home either too late or too exhausted to stay small and work inside my dollhouses. But on those occasional nights when I can squeeze in an hour or two of puttering around, I like to have stuff ready so I can take full advantage of that opportunity.
