Today’s Daily Post prompt – Truth Serum – You’ve come into possession of one vial of truth serum. Who would you give
it to (with the person’s consent, of course) — and what questions would you ask?
I’m also using this piece for last week’s 3 Word Wednesday. The words are highlighted in bold.
“That should be adequate.”
Clarabelle stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. The tiny figure duct-taped to a mangy toothbrush wriggled furiously, but there was no give to be had. Clarabelle twitched the improvised hood – a little finger cut from a child’s glove – and hauled it free. The fairy beneath was clearly trying to cast a spell, but Clarabelle had that covered too. She pointed at the penny-sized medallion around the fairy’s neck, shaking a reproving finger.
“Don’t bother, Cavity. Every time you try to use magic that medallion will drain and contain it; those wizards know a thing or three about dealing with fairies. Now, time to find out exactly where you are stashing all that money.”
“As if I would tell a galumphing ape like you!”
Cavity followed her words with an explosive curse, but the medallion swiftly blocked the magic, sucking a trickle of silver sparkles into itself.
“Told you not to do that” Clarabelle sympathised, with absolute insincerity, for the fairy had lost much of her luminous blue light in one fell swoop, “I really don’t need you to tell me, Cavity. I knew you’d never give up secrets to a mortal, but we have a few secrets of our own.”
She cackled nastily, drawing a small vial from her apron pocket. Her plump fingers struggled with the cork. She muttered imprecations against all wizards whilst she struggled, eventually dragging a securing pin from her hat and jabbing it into the cork to free it. She re-read the instructions carefully – for much as she loathed the fae and their magic, she had no wish to bring down their wrath by accidentally killing one of them – then let three shockingly red drops fall onto a scrap of cloth.
She advanced on Cavity, who was watching, eyes wide with fear and once more struggling against her bonds. Clarabelle shoved the cloth under the fairy’s nose, covering nostrils and mouth until the creature was forced to breathe in the fumes. The change was instant, Cavity going from frantic bucking against her bonds to such stillness Clarabelle felt impelled to check the fairy was still alive. Satisfied the lack of motion was a side effect of the truth serum, Clarabelle grinned; an altogether vile thing of rotten teeth and eager greed.
“You don’t have a choice, fairy; you have to answer my questions now.”
Cavity opened her eyes and gave a single nod. Clarabelle rubbed her grubby hands together in glee.
“Are you a tooth fairy?”
“I knew that, of course, I just needed to make sure the stuff was working. Where is the tooth bank?”
For a long moment Cavity said nothing, Clarabelle’s anger beginning to bubble, the urge to shake the stupid thing all but irresistible. Her voice heavy, strained, still fighting the magical vapours, Cavity finally spoke:
“Under Farwell Great Oak.”
Clarabelle actually hurled her great bulk into the air and punched the air in delight before remembering she needed to deal with the fairy. She ripped the duct tape off with no small pleasure, aware how it must be hurting. Cavity sunk to her knees, but showed no sign of recovering from the drug.
“Right, you little parasite, making money off stupid mortal kids, you stay right there. You’re not to move until dusk, understood?”
Clarabelle turned her back, heading out of the cottage, the fairy already forgotten. She had three hours to reach the Great Oak and break into the bank. She set off along the winding path which led to Farwell, her mind filled with plans for the fortune stored in the tooth bank. She’d come across the information by accident. Well, she hadn’t meant to be eavesdropping on Grandmother Ida’s conversation with Molar, the head tooth fairy; it had been a lucky accident. She’d listened to them discussing how the fairies sold the teeth to an old warlock over in Magevale and were paid gold for every sack of teeth. Clarabelle had phased out at that point, images of riches dancing behind her eyes as she wandered away, leaving the oblivious pair to discuss using the money to add a new schoolroom for a mixed class of mortal and fae children.
It had been too easy. Clarabelle had stolen a tooth from under her kid sister’s pillow and put it under her own. When Cavity had arrived to claim it she’d grabbed the unsuspecting creature before she knew what was happening. Now all that gold would be hers and she could finally leave Green Lake village and buy herself as many sweets and cakes as she could ever eat. She ambled on happily planning whilst back at the cottage Cavity sat very still and began to whistle. She couldn’t break her word, but Clarabelle had said nothing about Cavity not using her voice. In moments Tartar was at her side. When Cavity explained what had happened, Tartar shot off to raise the alarm. Cavity sat quietly, using magic to ease the pain and damage of her captivity and with a very secret smile on her face.
Clarabelle reached the Great Oak with an hour to spare. She was a little surprised to find no guards, no sign of any security about the door in the trunk; not even the smallest signal was given when she wrenched open the door and ran down the carved wooden steps within. At the bottom of the flight the space widened to a great circle which glowed golden in the light of torches stuck in the walls. The flickering light danced and bounced off of so much gold that Clarabelle felt dizzied by the possibilities it represented. She ran up the golden heap, flopping onto a golden throne which sat atop it all, as the fairies had known she would.
The instant Clarabelle set herself in the chair golden clasps shot out of the arms and legs trapping her completely, despite her desperate struggles. Head tooth fairy, Molar stepped out from behind the throne and shook her head sadly.
“You must atone for your actions against Cavity, mortal. You are to serve as housemaid to the wizard Zorvac for the next twenty years. Perhaps you will have a better attitude when your time is done.”
“No!” Clarabelle screamed, caught between terrified tears and breathless disbelief, for everyone in Green Lake knew about Zorvac and his experiments with the undead, but Molar was no longer there. Instead, the throne unfurled a beautiful set of golden wings, lifted smoothly into the air and sailed through a hatch in the upper reaches of the trunk, arrowing toward a distant tower deep within Magevale cemetery.