She pointed at her two charges, who huddled where they were. Convinced they’d stay put, she turned back to me, tilted her head. An odd expression, when she’d been commanding before. My image of her kept changing, even though I hadn’t looked away. “You want a guarantee? Or a wish—that’s usually what mortals ask for. All right, then—what’s your wish?”

One thing popped into my mind, and it wasn’t an interview this time. If I could have anything, I knew. I didn’t even have to think about it. Whether or not she could even grant such a wish didn’t occur to me—it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? I just had to say it, and if she said no I wouldn’t have lost anything, I couldn’t be more disappointed than I already was. But if she said yes …

“Nobody answer that,” Cormac said. “It’s a trick.”

I hesitated, my mouth open to speak, and realized I could be more disappointed. I took a deep breath to settle myself, and the exhale was a little shaky.

The woman put her hands on her hips and glared at Cormac. “You’ve had dealings with us before, I see.”

“Not hard to read a few stories,” Cormac said. He glanced to me. “She’ll twist your words, you’d get what you asked for but not what you meant. Or she’d ask for more in return than you could give. Better to ask for a rain check.” He spoke with a confidence that I wasn’t feeling. “We accept your offer, to be redeemed at a later date.”

“You make us beholden to you,” the woman—the leader of them—said, disbelieving. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“We’ll see,” he said.

I hoped he and Amelia knew what they were doing. They seemed to know what they were doing. Did Cormac ever seem otherwise? Would we know if he didn’t?

“Well then. I owe you a wish.”

“We’ll need a token of that,” Cormac said.

“You’re a demanding mortal.” The woman pulled a scarf from some pocket or other with a flourish. Pale gold, wispy, and floral, it floated in her grip as if it might have been a ribbon of mist, until she dropped it in Cormac’s outstretched hand, when it became just a strip of cloth.

My phone started ringing. I’d had it in my hand the whole time, set to Tyler’s number. I couldn’t remember if I’d actually dialed him or not. I stepped away from the others and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kitty, did you just try to call me?” the soldier said.

“Yeah, I did. I’m sorry, I was distracted.”

“You think?” he said, chuckling.

How did I explain the last ten minutes? I didn’t. “I just wanted to check in. Have you had any weird encounters? Any more random recruiters or warnings? Vampires hanging around?”

“You mean more than you’d expect at a conference on the supernatural?” He was still chuckling, and I flushed, chagrined.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Not really. But I do feel like I’m walking around with my hackles up all the time.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Well, let me know if … I don’t know. You see something weird. There’s some bad politics around just now.”

“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.