Codename Fairy Godmother: Reassigned

By Tanjlisa Marie

A timeless love story? Or an unpredictable battle of evil versus uh, the lesser-of-the-two evils? Agent Thunder, the fairy godmother. Ciaran, the terminator-leprechaun. He falls for her. She falls for him. She wants to snap his neck in four places and remove his head for a keepsake. He wants to steal her magical essence and toss her lifeless corpse over a rush-hour overpass. But she's his soul-mate. And he's her arch nemesis. Can their unsuitable love conquer their predatory instincts? Or will their prickly dilemma amass countless human and fairy godmother casualties?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tanjlisa Marie
• Release date: Oct 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475103069

Tanjlisa Marie

Tanjlisa Marie. Born in Chicago. Raised in Arkansas. Now living in t​he south suburbs of Chicago. Tanjlisa Marie graduated from the University of Phoenix with a Bachelor's of Science in Business Management. She is also a United States Air Force veteran.When Tanjlisa Marie isn't spending her time searching for fairies (which always turn out to be lightning bugs), she earns her living as a secretary for the federal government.Thinking of the future reading habits of her two young boys, Tanjlisa Marie first got the idea to write the saga, CODENAME FAIRY GODMOTHER, when she realized there were not a lot of young adult novels for both genders to enjoy. With the intent to entice more males to read, she sat and wrote REASSIGNED keeping in mind to include enough action for the young men, enough flirting for the young ladies, and a sophisticated page-turning plot to entertain adults.Her ultimate goal is to get the youth reading again and to embrace their smarts. There is no shame in getting high grades in school. Nerdy is the new cool. Start the nerd revolution!!

Book preview

Codename Fairy Godmother:

Reassigned

Tanjlisa Marie

Codename Fairy Godmother: Reassigned

Tanjlisa Marie

© 2012 by Tanjlisa Marie

Smashwords Edition

Dedication

My first book is dedicated to my beautiful mother, who will forever be my role model.

From the comfy womb to the cramped tomb, I will be your #1 fan.

Thank you for your unwavering love, support, and positive encouragement.

Love you.

Inspiration

Know, first, who you are, and then adorn yourself accordingly. Epictetus, The Art of Living.

Give me the facts and I will determine my own truths.

Tanjlisa Marie, personal motto.

Author Info

www.TanjlisaMarie.com

www.TanjlisaMarie.blogspot.com

www.facebook.com/TanjlisaMarie

www.twitter.com/TanjlisaMarie

www.Codenamefairygodmother.com

www.facebook.com/codenamefairygodmotherreassigned.com

Chapter 1:

Pay Your Debt

Friday, 11:10 PM

His standing her up had not once crossed her mind. During all her planning and all her scheming, that option had never presented itself.

For two weeks, he had taken this perfectly isolated route Monday through Friday without fail…so where was he?

The Huntress rested her tall, lithe body against her idling motorcycle stationed on the side of the vacant road. Steaming exhaust smoke escaped then dissipated into the crisp December air. Bare branches from the surrounding trees whooped and whipped, as if trying to bat away the cruel winds, without success.

Wrapped completely in black leather, the dark figure was unfazed by Chicago’s cruel temperatures. What did trouble the lone Huntress was that after all her meticulous planning, the target was late for his surprise appointment.

Tapping her tall, leather boot against jagged, unkempt cement, she glanced at the moon from underneath her tinted motorcycle helmet visor. He would have to endure extra punishment for wasting her valuable time. What? Did he think she reserved the whole night exclusively for him? Not at all. One more target remained on her list. Hopefully, she could knock that one out in time and still finish before Agent Tisha.

A low hum emerged in the distant background, breaking her concentration. The Homosap’s—Homos sapiens—SUV formed on the foggy horizon three hundred yards from where she waited. Was it his vehicle—something wasn’t right.

Tuning in more closely, she could feel the vibrations of the approaching SUV. Three wheels were emitting familiar pulsations, but one rolled out of sync. Its treads were newer, not as worn as the other three.

The Huntress jumped on her motorcycle, reassured it was indeed her target. He must have caught a flat and had to change his tire, and that’s what kept him. She disengaged the kickstand of her Hayabusa, revved its engine, and retrieved his file from memory: James Fred Croughton, married, four offspring, lived in Decatur, Illinois, usher for the local church, and Boy Scout troop leader.

She watched as his white-trimmed, tan SUV roared past without acknowledging her presence.

Funny, his stats didn’t resemble the majority of her other targets. Subject Croughton actually sounded like a decent Homosap. If such a thing actually existed.

His red taillights quickly faded into the night’s clouded canvas.

She shook her head, quickly pushing the introspective thoughts far from her mind. Such toxic opinions had no place in a Huntress’s arsenal. It was not her job to judge, but to collect a debt.

She popped the Hayabusa into gear, spraying pebbles and rocks as she took off after her prey.

Her stomach bubbled with anticipation, as nothing could ever compare to these moments leading up to the big climax. All the strategic planning and agonized waiting were easily forgiven seconds before the expected meeting.

Certainly, the Huntress wasn’t supposed to enjoy this as much as she did. Did her superior even know of her unorthodox methods? Surely not, since a reprimand would most likely have followed. Until that time came, she would continue to indulge in the one pleasure this monotonous existence offered.

When her front tire rode inches from Subject Croughton’s bumper, she peered around the vehicle, and then behind it to make sure there were no witnesses. The closest car was 15.4 miles behind them. That gave the Huntress plenty of playtime.

Flipping forward off the motorcycle, she waved her wand, causing the Hayabusa to disappear into nothingness. During the same moment, the SUV’s sunroof slid backwards and she soared into the small opening, landing in the passenger seat with the ease of an alley cat.

It happened so fast, Subject Croughton continued singing along to a song blaring from the speakers, unaware he had just gained a copilot. The Huntress’s black getup provided a stark contrast to the vehicle’s tan leather seating. She made no efforts to minimize her movements as she sat upright and readjusted her black leather jacket.

What the— Subject Croughton flinched and pulled the wheel, jerking him in his seat as the vehicle veered out of its lane. He placed both hands on the steering wheel at the textbook ten o’clock, two o’clock position before his panicked eyes focused and settled on her. What in the world! How did you get in here?

Surprise was the initial reaction coveted by the Huntress, and he did not disappoint. Even through the Have a holly, jolly Christmas repetition sounding in the background, she could still hear his heartbeat quicken. The blood pulsating through his veins blared through the white noise like tribal drums.

Did you hear me? Subject Croughton’s voice cracked as he nervously eyed the Huntress’s black helmet. It was the normal hard, plastic headgear a biker would wear, except 3-D pictures of white skulls with hideous smiles were painted on both sides.

I said— Suddenly, the SUV swerved as Subject Croughton tried to pay equal attention to the road and his peculiar predicament —who…are you?

The Huntress’s body remained planted as everything else around her reacted appropriately to the planet’s laws of physics and gravity.

She wanted to laugh at the way her prey’s eyes bulged from their sockets. Or the way he wiggled in his seat as if sitting still would cause him to spontaneously combust.

Even though he wouldn’t be able to see her delight through her helmet, she still suppressed her smile.

Wh—where did you come from? He shot a look at the sunroof, then her, and finally back to the road.

She knew whatever explanations his tiny mind tried to generate would be far from the truth. Ignoring the distressed Homosap’s questions, she instead plopped her long legs on top of his dashboard, crossing her ankles.

With her vast experience, she knew Homosaps had a difficult time processing the abnormal. They had a never ending list of impossibilities, unbelievab-ilities, and can-never-happen-ilities. Every single Homosap seemed to lack imagination…it sickened her.

By now, Subject Croughton’s perspiration emitted that intoxicating perfume, adrenaline—his body reacting to the beautiful panic. She inhaled and silently licked her lips as his muscles tightened and his breaths quickened in pace. Even though the Homosaps themselves were a despicable race, she found their biology beyond fascinating. The Homosap’s body was preparing him for a life-threatening event—she did not want to disappoint.

With a flick of her wrist, the vehicle’s engine immediately died.

What’s going on?

Her wand confiscated steering control and she guided the SUV to the shoulder as it sputtered, then slowed to a complete stop.

How—why is this happening…and to me? I’ve done nothing! I’m nobody!

One more flick and the music muted, leaving the space eerily quiet.

Unaware of the wand in her right hand, next to the door, Subject Croughton searched for a logical explanation as he continued to rant. This isn’t real…I’m dreaming… He twisted around in his seat and checked the driver-side window, with the look of someone about to be ambushed. I have to be dreaming…only thing that makes any sense.

The delightful aroma of his anguish caused the Huntress’s eyes to flash and sparkle behind her visor. Something deep within her—something she’d never been able to comprehend—fed off the Homosap’s trepidation. The more Subject Croughton’s confusion and fear ruled him, the more satisfied the Huntress felt.

Even though she wanted to relish in this feast, there was a demanding timetable to tend to.

The Huntress removed her helmet, and like a dragon’s flaming breath, her unruly, fire-colored hair invaded the small space.

Subject Croughton’s ramblings came to an end. His mouth gaped open as he stared into her bright, orange-red eyes. Impossible, was all he could muster.

Nothing from the Homosap’s life could have prepared him for this moment. The same color as her blazing mane, the Huntress’s freckles, dotted across a honey-brown face, and vivid eyebrows were unlike anything he’d ever seen. She knew his fear was now laced with those troublesome emotions, desire and lust.

Like a vulture ready to devour its long-awaited prey, a slow, predatory smile crept across her lips. Male Homosaps were so predictable. Subject Croughton was hypnotized by her physical appearance, while five different ways to make him scream played through her mind.

Why did males on this planet gaze at her in such a manner? What did they want…mercy? Leniency? It didn’t matter. The only thing she was dishing out was a healthy dose of shock and awe.

James Fred Croughton. The Huntress began her standard boring speech.

Her quarry gasped involuntarily at the sound of her low, throaty voice. His ears tingled with eagerness for her next words. She could have told him he was about to die a terrible death and he would have accepted it with no resistance.

You were granted a wish twenty-five years ago. Upon the granting of that request, it was agreed that in consequence, you would repay those services at the age of thirty-two.

Subject Croughton watched in silence as the Huntress removed her feet from his dashboard and replaced them with her helmet. He’d probably never seen anyone move so gracefully, so effortlessly—like she were floating through air.

The Huntress pointed a black, leather-gloved finger at his watch, which read midnight. You turned thirty-two today, and that service has yet to be rendered.

Subject Croughton’s mouth unfroze from his O-expression. Are you…no, you can’t be. He glanced at the sunroof again, then back to his uninvited passenger. You’re just a teenager—

She slowly raised her left hand, interrupting his whimpering. I come representing the female who visited you all those birthdays past, she continued in a business monotone. Why have you not committed the deed which you promised to fulfill?

Um… Now clearly realizing the object of his impure thoughts was underage, his mind began to climb out of its haze. Well…I thought I was dreaming that night. I never believed it was all real. It couldn’t have been real. He rubbed his fingers across his balding head. What. Is. Going. On?

The Huntress tapped her wand on the SUV’s passenger door and watched as a lone vehicle zoomed by without its driver meriting a second glance their way.

Did you not wish to win every science fair while in school? His denial began to bore the Huntress. In consequence, did you not receive a full scholarship to the college of your choice?

Yes…but—

Furthermore, did you not land a lucrative job offer because of your initial wish, which produced the quality life you now enjoy today? The Huntress raised her orange-red eyebrow, awaiting Subject Croughton’s response.

He stared into her unflinching eyes, unconsciously licking his chapped lips.

The Huntress easily recognized that hungry-dog look resonating in Subject Croughton’s expression. This didn’t happen with female Homosaps, but with the males, she couldn’t be around them too long before they started in with The Look.

Focus, Homosap, the Huntress mumbled, snapping her gloved fingers. Why have you not paid back the debt you owe?

Subject Croughton blinked furiously, then tore his gaze away from the wild-haired vixen. My father helped me. He’s why I won all those science fairs.

Great, he was one of those: a Homosap in denial about even receiving a wish.

It was an easy request to grant, which required minimal wand usage. The Huntress squinted at the feeble male. I could help persuade you. Would you like a demonstration of true magic?

Anxious to inflict some misery, she did not wait for his response. In a dramatic slow-motion move, her black wand made its debut. She straightened in the seat, raising it into full view.

You seem confused, she said in a sweet, mocking tone.

Sweat beads dribbled across Subject Croughton’s brow as he gawked at the white skull levitating atop the wand’s stem. It wore the same jeering grin as the paintings on her helmet.

"You think your daddy plotted the course for your easy life? You need enlightening? I’ll give you what’chu want." With a slight flick of her wrist, a faint gurgling sound commenced as the vehicle’s floor slowly filled with water. The H2O measured at thirty-one degrees, right below freezing level, to induce an extra-menacing response.

What’s happening? Subject Croughton exclaimed, no longer mesmerized by the stranger’s extraordinary beauty.

His face filled with terror as the glacial water rose above their knees, inducing a warm, comforting feeling inside the Huntress. He splashed around, fiddling with his seatbelt, trying to free himself. A tap of the Huntress’s wand tightened his safety harness, transforming it into a death trap.

HELP!! Subject Croughton’s muffled cry bounced around the enclosed space. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!!

But there was no one to hear his pleas.

The icy waters were now at their waists. Subject Croughton flapped loose papers and debris across the SUV, desperate to break away.

But there was no escape.

Do you believe me now, Homosap? the Huntress asked her trapped mammal, toying with him.

Are you doing this? Subject Croughton shrieked, daring to look back into her fierce but unnervingly composed eyes. How are you doing this? Stop, please!

The Huntress’s body remained motionless as sub-zero waters rose to chest-level.

This can’t be real. Subject Croughton shuddered, his hands still yanking at the intractable seatbelt. Can’t really— Water dribbled from his lips —be happening. The Homosap coughed and gagged. Yes! he said before his mouth became fully submerged.

A flick from the Huntress’s wand caused the water level to recede just a tad. What was that? she asked in a condescending tone.

Yes, Subject Croughton repeated, blinking disobedient tears from his eyes. He tilted his head backwards and spit out water that had found refuge in his mouth. I—I will make good on my promise, he gasped, trying desperately to catch his breath. I will find a seven-year-old and—and help him win science fairs. I’ll even offer to pay for his college if that’s what it takes to be even with you people. Subject Croughton’s sobs reverberated throughout the SUV. I will, I—this time I swear.

Amazing, she sighed. "Now you remember all the details from your arrangement."

Outside, past the windshield, shadows in the night sky seemed to smile and mock the Huntress. This added another successful mission to her tally, but it wasn’t necessarily fulfilling. The fun didn’t last as long as she wanted—it never did.

Reluctantly, she opened the vehicle door while flicking her wand. Water cascaded from the SUV and disappeared without making a sound, just as the engine restarted.

You have three months, she said, tucking her wild mane back inside her helmet.

As Subject Croughton’s adrenaline subsided, the Huntress’s mood dimmed. Sensing that the meeting was concluding, the agony that followed her whenever she wasn’t tormenting someone returned.

If I have to visit you again my fun will not end so quickly.

Shivering uncontrollably and still in a daze, Subject Croughton looked around his vehicle. Surely he was trying to figure out where all the water had gone and why his clothes were suddenly dry. All of his papers, CDs, and other useless belongings were back in their proper places as if nothing had transpired.

The mentally fragile Homosap stared at his reflection in the Huntress’s shining visor. Who are you? he whispered, still quivering with shock.

I’m Agent Thunder, your fairy godmother.

Chapter 2:

Racing Towards The Finish Line

Saturday, 3:17 AM

Agent Thunder’s Hayabusa sped down an old back highway towards the south side of Chicago. Her visit with the whimpering James Croughton replayed in her mind. What she had told him concerning her identity was partially true. She just wasn’t his fairy godmother. Not his exclusively, anyways.

Agent Thunder was a member of The Fairy Godmother Organization—The FGO—which was broken into two units. The first was the Wish Granters, who operated on the front end, proposing and closing the initial wish dealings. The second was an elite group, the Huntresses, with only three fairy godmothers: two Huntresses and one operator. Their mission was to locate the recipients of wishes who didn’t fulfill their contract obligations by age thirty-two.

Agent Thunder and Agent Tisha, the other Huntress, spent the majority of their time on Earth since there were only two of them and billions of Homosaps to track and harass. They received assignments on a yearly basis, which required them to visit their planet, Platherus, only seldom.

Any job can become repetitious over the centuries, so the two agents had started wagering on their missions almost a decade ago. Racing through their lists and trying to outdo the other seemed to break up the monotony of their existence.

Currently, Agent Thunder’s winning streak remained intact. Agent Tisha had beat her the first two years, but she had taken the past five.

A solitary name remained on Agent Thunder’s assignment list: Filberto Giovanni. A warning had been issued to him three months ago, and no confirmation had been received from the operator, Agent Delola, to close his file.

Despite the stabbing winds blowing past Agent Thunder as she raced to her next destination, a warm, fuzzy feeling bubbled inside her. Could it be her lucky day? Another chance to cause mayhem so soon? This was definitely a rare occasion.

Subject Giovanni’s case was a memorable one. He had been reluctant to believe that Agent Thunder was a fairy godmother during their first encounter.

The Homosap and his offspring stood hunched over a counter in the gourmet kitchen of Subject Giovanni’s restaurant. It was afterhours and Subject Giovanni was showing his son how to prepare a special lobster course—or something like that.

Normally, Agent Thunder’s accuracy for catching targets alone was impeccable—FGO rules stated the fewer witnesses, the better. She tried to persuade the young adult offspring to exit the premises, but he refused to leave his father’s side.

Agent Thunder’s tight schedule did not allow any room for arguing…if the Homosap wanted to be traumatized for life, who was she to deny him?

After her spiel, advising Subject Giovanni of his current debt and his obligation to repay, he told her she was a kid and that no little girl was going to tell him what to do. Agent Thunder allowed them a jolly giggling episode before pulling out her wand. Their insolent chuckles ceased as they locked eyes with the empty, hollow eye sockets and haunting smile of her wand’s white skull.

Agent Thunder pointed her wand at a bucket situated on a counter in front of the stunned Homosaps. It was filled with ice and dead lobsters. The silver bucket started to shake violently, and then the once lifeless ocean critters doubled in size and jumped off the stainless steel surface. Subject Giovanni and his son screeched and stumbled backwards, away from the inconceivable creatures.

With another flick of her wand, all seven lobsters held ten-inch-long butcher knives in their clampers.

"Oh sweet Mary!" Subject Giovanni screamed, motioning his hand toward his forehead, and then left to right across his chest in the shape of a cross.

His son’s eyes were wide with horror as he watched the armed lobster army charge after his father.

Three of the lobsters had thrashed and sliced at Subject Giovanni’s pants leg before he finally conceded.

Agent Thunder felt he had surrendered too soon—then again, all her subjects did.

Even after her magical demonstration, a look of skepticism had remained in Subject Giovanni’s eyes as he yelled for Agent Thunder to get out.

Subject Giovanni continued to validate his arrogance.

She throttled the Hayabusa to go even faster, anticipating a momentous occasion awaiting her. It was a rarity for a Homosap to require a second visit. Usually her scare tactics proved quite effective and the Homosaps repaid the debt within a couple of weeks.

Certainly, this visit would not leave Agent Thunder unfulfilled like the last one with Subject Croughton.

After a few more minutes of flying at 191.3 mph while effortlessly dodging between insomniac drivers, Agent Thunder jumped a double set of railroad tracks. She decelerated and pulled off East 147th Street onto Wallace, entering Harvey, Illinois.

Agent Thunder switched to second gear and raised upright upon her Hayabusa. Glancing to her right, she studied a ramshackle chain link fence for an entrance. Without warning, her body thrust into the air as her motorcycle dipped into one of the crater-sized pot holes occupying the road.

She cursed inside her helmet, regardless of the fact that the impact had no effect on her. Freakin’ Homosaps! Can’t they keep their roads fixed?

Dang, lady! a well-layered Homosap called from inside an alley. Agent Thunder glanced in his direction but could only make out his unfocused eyes since thick winter gear covered the rest of his body. You hung on ta dat bike like a stunt double or somethin’! You all right? You need me to rub that tight lil’ rump for ya? The dirty, sooty scarf he wore wrapped around his face muffled his dry cough-laugh.

Shut your trap! Agent Thunder yelled at the Homosap without slowing down.

"Shut—shut my trap? he replied, slurring his already broken speech. Who says that? He coughed and stumbled into a brick wall while trying to keep up with her moving vehicle. I was jus’—I was jus’ checkin’ to see if you was all right. Mz. Rude!"

Her hands squeezed involuntarily, bending the metal on her throttle.

Mz. Rude? He was the one who needed to be shown a proper lesson in manners. But she didn’t have time. "I’m always on a deadline," she mumbled to herself.

Agent Thunder huffed, pushing back the urge to send that Homosap on a one-way Antarctic swimming trip. Instead of grabbing for her wand, she loosened her grip on the throttle and went back to looking for an entrance in the fence.

If she didn’t find one soon, she would have to use her wand to improvise, which was, of course, against FGO policy. Technically, a Huntress was only supposed to use her wand while performing official duties, not for convenience.

Magic proved to be unnecessary as she spotted a rusted gate a few moments ahead.

Agent Thunder pulled her bike inches in front of it and saw that a chain and lock held the two ends together. Surely they were meant to keep unmotivated vandals and robbers out, but clearly she was neither.

While balancing the black rocket between her legs, she made note of a few stragglers roaming the streets. Most were dressed similarly to the heckler she had encountered earlier, but none of these were paying her any attention.

There weren’t enough Homosaps to draw a crowd, so Agent Thunder pulled out her wand and waved it, breaking the lock and chain.

Agent Thunder cruised through the entrance, where the road turned from cement to gravel. The Hayabusa’s wheels crunched along the path as Agent Thunder glanced around, taking in her new surroundings. Wrapped in complete darkness, the entire area offered no streetlights beyond the gates.

This was of little concern to a Huntress since her eyes adapted to every situation. But still—it made the mood feel too…eerie, as if someone was watching her.

Agent Thunder frowned at such silly, irrational thoughts. Who on this ridiculous blue-green planet could harm her?

No one, she answered herself.

Keeping straight, she passed several abandoned, unkempt buildings on both sides of the road. Windows were boarded up on most of them, while more than