“I know the drill. You just look after yourself, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up and returned to the group. The fairies, the regal woman and her two underlings, were gone. The others were looking back at me with bemused expressions to match my own.
“Where’d they go?” I said.
“They just left,” Ben said. “None of us really saw them go, but there you are.”
And no matter how fast I ran after them, I wouldn’t find them. Which didn’t mean they also still weren’t lurking, spying. I grumbled, “I can’t keep looking over my shoulder like this.”
“This evening’s been much more exciting than Luis promised,” Esperanza said.
“What can I say? I know how to have a good time,” I said. “What are we going to do with a fairy favor?” My hands itched to touch that scarf, still lying in Cormac’s hand. Would it feel like cloth or something else? The hunter unceremoniously wadded it up and shoved it in his jacket pocket.
“Best not to use that word. It annoys them,” Cormac said. “As for what to do with it—we’ll find out when we need it. This gives us a chance to plan. Maybe mitigate the unintended consequences.”
He was right, this was the smart thing to do. I still wondered.
“You had a wish right on the tip of your tongue, didn’t you?” Ben said.
“Yeah, I did.” I reached for him, and he gathered me into his arms. “And is it me or did that woman look kind of like Stevie Nicks? Is Fleetwood Mac a fairy rock band?”
He pulled away just enough to be able to look down his nose at me. “It’s you, and I don’t think so.”
Chapter 12
MATT AND Ozzie set up time at a recording studio near the convention, making it easier for me to haul in delegates for interviews. I’d record as many interviews as I could through the afternoon and into the evening, assuming I could convince any vampires to show up, which I hadn’t been able to do yet. Ned and Emma said no, I didn’t know how to get in touch with Marid, Mercedes was out of the question, and the few others I saw hanging around seemed to be spying on me. I’d have asked them for interviews, but they always vanished before I could get close enough. I thought of using the fairy wish to ask for an interview, but I also had an idea of how that would go—not the way I wanted it to.
Matt was with me online. He and the local engineer had arranged a whole techy solution, allowing us to record the show, upload it, and deliver it to Matt, who could get it immediately and be able to edit the show for Friday night.
“Greetings, listeners, you’ve tuned in to The Midnight Hour. I’m your super-vigilant host, and this week’s episode has been prerecorded in London, England. Let me explain: I’m here attending the First International Conference on Paranatural Studies, which has brought together hundreds of scientists, academics, and pundits like me to discuss where we stand on the topic of the supernatural in society, and recognition of the same. I’ve been having a great time, learning lots, and I’m going to report to you on what I’ve been up to the last few days. I have a whole crowd of fascinating people for you to meet. I’ll be talking with a were-jaguar who is an environmental activist in Brazil. We’ll meet an attorney from Tanzania working to prosecute those accused of murdering albinos in the name of witchcraft. I’ve met a music critic who’s been tracking down rumors of fairy music in the modern rock scene, a werewolf with a seat in the House of Commons, and we’ll be visiting with an old friend of the show, Jules Simpson from TV’s Paradox PI and member of the Society for Psychical Research.
“As many of you have figured out by now, I really like talking. Sometimes I even like listening. I’ve been enjoying myself immensely because this week has been full of both. Some stats: the conference has around eighteen hundred attendees from twenty-three countries—not bad for the first time out. The six days of the conference include forty presentations on topics ranging from the supernatural’s impact on the legal system and the depiction of vampires in popular culture. You’ll forgive me for avoiding that one, I’m sure. I’ve always advocated shining lights into dark corners and dragging the unknown into the open, and we’ve spent the week doing just that.
“Right now I have a couple of previous guests with me: Sergeant Joseph Tyler, a veteran of the war in Afghanistan who also happens to be a werewolf, and Dr. Elizabeth Shumacher. I was delighted to discover that they’re both here at the conference to discuss what happens when the military utilizes soldiers with nonhuman abilities…”
With me egging them on, Tyler and Shumacher talked for an hour. Matt could edit it into a sharp half-hour segment we could all be proud of. Next up was Esperanza, who was happy to discuss her experiences tracking illegal logging in the Amazon basin, and how her lycanthropy—the result of an attack—has helped her rather than limited her. She was articulate and enthusiastic, I hardly had to prompt her at all. The best kind of guest. Nell Riddy, the conference director, needed a little more nursing along, but we still managed to produce a good conversation about how a childhood encounter with fairies put her on the path to studying cryptozoology, and from there to paranormal research.
I might actually pull off entertaining and informative with this episode. I was feeling awfully pleased with myself. Of course, I couldn’t entirely avoid the bizarre. It wouldn’t be an episode of The Midnight Hour without it.
“Martin Pearce runs a popular blog, Enchantment Underground, discussing music and the supernatural. Martin, thanks for joining me,” I said.
“Thanks for inviting me.” He was young and jittery, bouncing a foot and tapping a hand on his knee. A DJ—anybody in the music business—ought to know better than to make noise like that during a recording. The sound didn’t carry, fortunately. Dressed modern hipster, he wore a T-shirt for what must have been a band, though one I’d never heard of, a jacket, and fashionably distressed jeans. He had a regional British accent, northern and industrial if I had my broad strokes right. I’d tracked him down via his blog and invited him on the show.
“You have some interesting ideas about how modern music and tales of the supernatural intersect,” I said. “You want to give me the rundown?”
“Yes, right. Do you know anything about, well, the Folk?”
Oh, that he should ask me that now … “Fairies, right?”
He squirmed in his chair. “We don’t like to use that word, but yes, just so. But you’ve heard of them.”
I debated telling him about last night’s adventure, but merely smiled encouragingly. “Yes, a bit.”
“In the old stories, the Folk love music. Playing it, listening to it, dancing to it. People still play traditional jigs and tunes rumored to come from the Folk. Some stories say they’d use music to entrance people, lure them Underhill, or set them dancing until they collapse with exhaustion. What if that still happens, but on a much larger scale?”
“All we have to do is figure out which bands are torture to listen to,” I said.
“Yeah! Well, no, not like that exactly. Today, with as much music as we have, and as many ways to play and distribute it, they must be involved somehow. They’d hardly be able to stay away. Which brings me to the Beatles.”