I drum my fingers on top of the manila folder in time to the song on the radio. Not my radio. The agent in the next cubicle. If it were up to me, the bullpen would be silent. How can anyone think with all this noise?
I take a deep breath and run a hand across my face. Focus.
The dossier is thin and a bit dusty. It’s been sealed, but only recently; a crisp, white report sticks out of one faded edge. Whatever happened for it to hit my desk in Emergency Response after so long in the archive can’t be pretty.
I crack the sticker, and my eyebrows rise as my stomach sinks.
The old paperwork is predictable. Faerie female, approximately 820 years old, between six inches and seven feet tall, flying. Charges for multiple B&Es and transporting human remains without a permit.
It’s the new report that’s concerning. Investigation for unlicensed medical procedures and theft of biohazardous material. The telephoto images are disturbing. Not even a gremlin’s mouth looks like that.
I close the file, pinching the bridge of my nose and bracing myself before I pick up the phone.
“Agent Four, get me somebody from Avatar Relations or Abnormal Body Modification. I need to talk to them about the Tooth Fairy case.”
This story is part of No Novel November, a daily microfiction challenge. If you'd like to know more and/or join in, click here.
