“There’s actually some interesting info on some of these fairy watch pages,” he said. “This one keeps a running log of so-called ‘magical occurrences’ with notes as to whether they believe the incidents were caused by witchcraft, fae creatures, or angels, though there are a lot of entries that are labeled as ‘magic unknown’.”
“So now you think the Crestwood brothers are fairies?” Esmer said. “Are you guys insane?”
“Most mythologies include some kind of magic,” Isaac explained matter-of-factly, as if he were lecturing in front of a college class. “But it’s well-established that in these modern times, most people will ‘explain away’ or dismiss things they don’t understand. Despite the growing evidence that things like magic or spirits or aliens exist, people reject things that don’t fit their current worldview. So even if proof of magic is right in front of their eyes, they convince themselves it’s something else. And that’s not even taking into account the possibility that the magic itself might be designed to make people forget anything unusual, or even look right past it.”
“But they have parties,” Esmer pointed out. “People can obviously see these guys. And Goldie can remember all the weird shit that happened last night.”
“I’m not saying I know exactly howthiscurse works,” Isaac said. “This stuff is more complicated than any of us can imagine. It’s literally beyond our world—we can’t expect it to comply with our rules of physics. And as for the parties, one of my buddies actually found a little bit more about that.”
“And?” I said eagerly.
“They’re obviously very hush-hush and very exclusive,” he said. “Best guess is that most of the invitees are either wealthy or important in some way, but I couldn’t give you a single name. It’s like a secret club or something. Rich people love their secret clubs. Belonging to one makes them feel special and elite, and betraying the secrecy of it takes all that away.”
“It still seems like a risky move to have big elaborate parties if they want people to forget they exist,” Esmer said.
“Obviously it hasn’t hurt them so far,” Isaac said. “And we don’t know that they want people to forget about them—they just don’t want people to catch on to their secret. It might even be to their advantage to garner some influence among the elite. If they’re stuck in this world, they might as well make the best of their situation. All they have to do is be rich and super mysterious and others will think they’re important and fall over themselves trying to impress them. Go readThe Count of Monte Cristo.”
He was making some good points.
“Okay, but where do I go from here?” I asked.
“I want to do some more research,” Isaac said. “This site I found has archived a bunch of historical reports of people claiming to be cursed. I’ll have to check the sources, but at first glance this looks promising. There are at least half a dozen reports from the last century of people claiming they were sent from another world, and—”
A loud knock sounded on my bedroom door.
“Your coffee is ready,” Octavian rumbled.
“I’m almost done. I’ll be out in a minute,” I called back. To my computer, I added, “I should probably go. I’m going to see if I can get more answers out of them. But I wanted to update you guys on the situation. And…” Get advice? I wasn’t sure what advice I was looking for at the moment, though. “Isaac, keep digging. Let me know if you find anything useful. I promise I’ll contact you guys again before I do anything crazy.”
I could hear both of them protesting as I shut my computer, but I’d already made up my mind—I couldn’t walk away from this, not until I had more answers.
It only took me a few minutes to shower and throw on some fresh clothes, but it made a world of difference in how I felt. Once I was squeaky clean and wearing my well-worn jeans, my favorite T-shirt, and some comfy flats, I felt like myself again. Instead of drying my hair, I threw it up in a messy bun, but I did allow myself a few minutes to put on some mascara and tinted lip balm so I felt moderately put-together.
Then I slid my laptop beneath my bed for safekeeping and went out into the living room, prepared to finally get the full truth.
Octavian was waiting only a few steps outside my door, leaning against the wall with a full coffee cup. My tiny apartment made him look extra large, and the pug-in-a-cowboy-hat on the side of the mug looked especially ridiculous—in the cutest way—in his huge hand.
“Here,” he said. He was very careful not to touch my skin as he passed the mug to me, and even though a part of me hungered for the contact, I was grateful for his consideration. I didn’t want a repeat of last night, and there was no telling how much—or how little—it would take to “overload” me a second time.
“I had a little trouble with your machine. I’ve never seen one like that before,” he added, almost apologetic.
It was a pretty standard cheap coffeemaker, but maybe these guys were the sort of billionaires who didn’t even make their own coffee.
They probably don’t even have coffeemakers in their homeland, I thought to myself, then judged my mind for going there so quickly. Yes, I was leaning towards believing everything they’d told me, but I wasn’t ready to start treating it like fact just yet.
Curling my hand around the hot mug, I looked past Octavian and found Alastor sitting in the corner, lounging in the ugly brown recliner I'd rescued from a yard sale years ago. He somehow made it look like some sort of throne.
Now even more of my furniture is going to smell like him.I tried to convince myself that I was annoyed by that, but that cedar-and-citrus scent still lingered in my nostrils, frustratingly intoxicating.
Radven was there, too, leaning against the wall by the sofa. His arms were crossed casually across his chest, but I didn’t miss the fact that he’d positioned himself in a spot where he could watch both the front door and my bedroom door at the same time.
All three men were looking at me expectantly. And apparently chatting with my friends again, even briefly, had given me an unexpected dose of confidence, because for the first time since stumbling through the door to that mansion last night, I realized something.
Iheld the power here.
These brothers wanted something from me. And by their own admission, I was theonlyone who could help them. I may have been confused and completely out of my depth, but at least I hadthaton my side.
Chin held high, I walked across the room and sank down on the couch, right in the middle of all three of them.
