Chapter Seven: All Together Now
Trixie talked. And talked. And talked. Lorenzo wondered how he had tolerated her presence near Timmy's for so long without ripping her bloody head off. Tearing it off might only temporarily stem the flow; he had an unsettling image of a bodiless Trixie chewing his ear off. Lorenzo patted a large knife sheathed at his hip. Work got off at six.
Once his break had finished, Lorenzo returned to glaring at the shoppers and scaring a few children. They screamed and clutched their mothers' legs. He looked for Timmy in the meanwhile; he doubted Timmy would show, but the slim hope prevented him from leaving bloody little corpses with the elves. He wasn't wearing gloves. Prints had an irritating way of existing.
Lorenzo brooded in the pathetic little plastic elf house. It was green and only a midget or a child would fit inside. Lorenzo felt claustrophobic, like the plastic would collapse on him. Or maybe the power of his anger would send it crashing. Wouldn't that be a welcome alteration in routine?
The watch hands churned and he willed it to click 'six' so he could leave. Before he worried about Timmy's imaginary cretin or his beloved creator, he had to destroy Trixie. Her existence bothered Lorenzo and, in his logic, anyone whose existence bothered him deserved to die. It was simple and it eliminated many bothersome presences.
"You didn't leave," Gary said when Lorenzo exited that horrendous structure. He wore a green suit with a red hat like a fellow elf. Lorenzo was too incensed to care if Gary had traded his human status for a wannabe elf. He glared at the little monster and considered gutting him. Timmy might notice, however. He enjoyed popping up in his head from time to time, but murdering Gary might be less of a minor note and more of a giant flashing neon sign.
"As pleasant as this meeting is, I have other people to do," Lorenzo said. "And unless you move shortly, one of those people will be you."
"I thought you only did that to Timmy," Gary retorted. Lorenzo looked around and the glamour faded, returning him to his normal height, eyes, and hair.
"You misunderstand me," Lorenzo said. "Not surprising, considering your woeful intellect."
"What are you doin'?" Gary snarled.
"Oh, yes, Gary," Lorenzo said loftily. "Since you kindly asked me, I'm going to interrupt my murderous plotting and reveal to you my deepest, innermost plans in the hopes that you will eventually stop me. By acting like this, I shall restore my place in the 'hoary villain museum' and thereby lose any credibility in sequels."
Gary stared blankly at him and Lorenzo snorted.
"Why am I not surprised you didn't comprehend that?" Lorenzo said. He walked away and Gary tugged on his long black leather jacket.
"Stay away from Cos and Wan," Gary warned.
"Or what?" Lorenzo retorted. "I shall have to deal with your wrath? Don't make me laugh, Gary. You may ruin my homicidal mood."
"You ain't gettin' away that easily," Gary warned, but let him leave. Lorenzo shrugged off his idle threats. If he wanted to listen to idle threats, he would have returned to the tree house and entertained Cosmo.
The mall shoppers talked gaily and their amusement and pleasure angered him to no end. What was worse was that he had lost track of Trixie. Unlike Timmy or Gary, he had no means to track her by mental telepathy or proximity. She might have left and, in that case, he might have to slaughter her father too to prevent word from getting out.
He pelted down the hall and scanned the crowds for an Asian teenager and her blond friend. Blood pounded in his head and he almost missed them. He barreled into a shopper, shoved them into the crowd, and stopped. Veronica leaned against the wall in an alley leading to the restrooms. Lorenzo snorted and grasped the knife, but did not remove it.
She too was a witness. He might have to kill her too. This was not how he would have preferred to do it and, for that alone, he paused.
Veronica might scream and, in a mall full of shoppers, murdering her and now would be a very bad idea. Sure, Mr. Tang might be a potential witness and therefore, might have to be killed too, but he would be captured and apprehended long before he killed the Christmas rush. Grimacing, Lorenzo bowed out before Veronica realized how close she had been to being stabbed by an insane anti fairy.
The night that Lorenzo had anticipated killing Trixie, she wasn't home. Lorenzo had no idea where Veronica lived, but it didn't matter. The annoying little bitch had given him the slip and he had no way to rectify it. Moreover, he had no one to take it out on because Juandissimo had actually paid attention to his godson and neither of them was home. Timmy was at home, secure with Cosmo and Wanda. Lorenzo couldn't make a preemptive strike.
The Other balled his fists and punched the wall. He stood in the kitchen, where Mr. and Mrs. Turner's ghosts had appeared. The black refrigerator beside him hummed and he wanted to punch it too. There was no point in staying here. He had no prey and nothing to occupy him. Therefore, it was time to go out.
But where? He could not pester Timmy without being caught. Unless he enticed Timmy out, apart from the others...
Lorenzo looked at his wrists and frowned. Thankfully, he was not at the point where anything that harmed Timmy also hurt Lorenzo, but the self mutilation worried him. His sire might bleed himself to death and then where would that leave Lorenzo? If he really cared, he supposed he ought to alert Cosmo and Wanda, but why should he confer with the enemy? What good had they ever done him? They hadn't even the grace to die.
He hadn't realized he had left the house until he stood on the cold street corner with the wind blowing in his face. The chill awakened him, energized him, and he drew warmth from Timmy. Wherever Timmy was, he was indoors and wouldn't miss the surplus. And if he did, he could always whine via telepathy. Lorenzo didn't care. He might actually cherish the little pissant.
Snow fell in wet, thick flakes. It was dark and he trudged along, heedless of the flurries or the unlit spots. If he heard people, he blocked them out.
It took him several moments to acknowledge that he was heading for Timmy's house. Lorenzo smirked, querying whether it would be best to lure Timmy out directly or change his destination. It was easier in the past, when Timmy was less suspicious and more willing to believe Lorenzo might actually help him. Ah, well, no one stayed innocent forever.
Lorenzo permitted himself to stroll to Timmy's house. Once he reached it, he looked up at the cheap, electric lights burning behind the curtains. There was no warning cry, no one jumped at him, and the house's occupants never noticed him. He stood on the doorstep and stared at the doorbell. The absurdity of it made him laugh. He could sneak inside and wreak havoc and they would have no idea.
Actually, that sounded like fun. Rather than use the front entrance and be excessive, he crept to the basement and stared. He swore he heard Vicky screaming and he paused again. How much of a scene did he want?
Well, she was only one female. He ought to be able to take her, with enough pressure.
He headed down the stairs and, before opening the door, he removed his jacket. He wished he had chloroform on him. Perhaps he should have better thought out his excursions today. He was turning into the hoary villain he had sarcastically told Gary about.
Vexed with himself, Lorenzo turned and left. He would return with better preparation. In the meanwhile, he would let the Turner household have its heyday. They were too unassuming for their own good.
The Turner household was not as blissful as The Other might have imagined. Wanda, armed with no real evidence but unsettling possibilities, appeared in Timmy's room while her godson played on his V Cube. Cosmo lingered in the background; she had a sinking sensation any serious conversation would be curtailed by Cosmo's hidebound convictions about Timmy's true motives. Still, this had to be done.
"Timmy, sweetie, maybe you could turn off the V Cube?" Wanda said gently. Timmy, in the middle of dribbling a virtual basketball down center court, ignored his godmother. Wanda sighed and drifted to the V Cube and next to Timmy.
"Please?"
"Why?" Cosmo snapped. "So we can tell him what a good little murderer he is?"
"No," Wanda said and sighed. He wasn't going to make this easy. He never did.
"I'm not in the mood," Timmy grumbled. "Why can't Vicky use her own bathroom?"
Wanda stared at Timmy for a moment. He was upset about a bathroom? That was rather mundane.
"Sport, if you want, we could fix that easily," Wanda said.
"Why should we?" Cosmo retorted and Wanda glared at him pointedly.
"Never mind," Timmy growled and pounded buttons. He stared at the screen as if hoping it might suck him in and he'd never have to return.
"Sport, I'd really appreciate if you shut that off," Wanda said. "We'd like to talk to you."
" 'We'?" Cosmo scoffed.
"Yes," Wanda said, fixing him a lethal look. " 'We'."
Timmy ignored her and his shoulders hunched. He cursed when his player missed the basket and, tired of being ignored, Wanda waved her wand and the TV shut off. Timmy objected loudly, jumping to his feet and glaring at his godparents. Cosmo glared back. Wanda kept her expression blank.
"Is there something you need to tell us?" Wanda said and, to forestall Cosmo's stupidity, she magicked a lock on his lips.
"What are you talking about?" Timmy said and eyed the TV like he'd like to put it between himself and them.
"Tootie, Cosmo," Wanda glared at her husband, "and I are worried."
"Worried?" Timmy said quickly, too quickly. "There's nothing to worry about."
"Tootie thinks you may be hurting yourself," Wanda continued and Timmy blanched. He suddenly decided the game controller in his lap was the most interesting thing in the world. He turned it over and read the copyright information on the back. Wanda levitated it out of his hands and rested it on top of the DVD player.
"It's not what she thinks," Timmy said after a pause.
"Then what is it?" Wanda said.
((He's been hurting baby squirrels!)) Cosmo said and Wanda wished she could muzzle Cosmo's telepathy too. She settled for ignoring him and rolled her eyes.
"Whatever Cosmo said, I'm not doing that either," Timmy affirmed.
"That's beside the point," Wanda said. She settled on the floor beside her godson and then, after a second, drifted into his lap. Cosmo balked, shooting to her and trying to shove her off. Wanda again ignored him and looked into Timmy's light blue eyes.
"Is Tootie right?" she pressed. "Are you hurting yourself?"
"What?" Timmy said. "That's ridiculous."
His voice was soft, however, and entirely unconvincing.
"Sport," Wanda murmured. "Even if we're afraid of you, we're still your godparents."
Timmy glared. He jumped up, grabbed the controller, and switched back on the V Cube and TV. She fell onto the floor, righted herself, and floated nearby.
"We care about you," she continued.
"You care more about your own asses than you do about me," Timmy muttered.
"Watch your language, young man," she said.
"Why should I?" Timmy said. "You barge into my room and you ask me stupid questions-"
"I asked if you were hurting yourself," Wanda said sharply. "That's not a stupid question."
Timmy said nothing. He clicked start on his game and Wanda raised her wand again to shut the TV and V cube off.
"I wish you'd leave me alone," Timmy said darkly. Wanda opened her mouth to object when Cosmo held up his wand and granted Timmy his wish. The two poofed out of the room and into the tree house. Wanda removed the lock, since there was no point, but when Cosmo spoke, she tuned him out. She was too incensed to focus.
She had said the wrong thing. She knew that now. Fat load of good that would do her, too. She would have to try again later and hope her weariness and Cosmo's anger didn't overwhelm her.
Would she have to catch Timmy in the act?
She looked out the window and Timmy paused his game to slam down the shades. Wanda sighed.
Tootie felt Timmy's ire like a roiling black cloud in her brain. She sighed, disregarding it, and opened her book. She missed Cal. She hadn't had time to grieve for him before. Now, she was alone and Timmy was angry, but she was miserable. Miserable was a state of being for her, it seemed. She had received a godparent because she was miserable and yet, knowing Timmy Turner had eliminated that slim chance of happiness.
She ought to be angrier and she would be if she didn't love him so much.
Cal would understand. He never spoke much, but he always listened. Where was he now? What happened to faeries when they died? Maybe they went to Faerie Heaven, but Fairy World was above Earth. Was their heaven higher still?
Tootie clutched the book to her chest. She didn't know. Tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn't want to think about it, either.
She buried herself in her book and let Timmy's rage thunder in the back of her head.