First time I heard about the fairy courts I was like anybody else, expecting castles and turrets and dainty little pennants fluttering high from towers. There’d be fairy knights in spiffy armour, ladies in gowns, all that kind of thing. And maybe it’s like that, back in the old countries where they came from, but here, they mostly go around dressed like humans and set up their courts in shopping malls and theaters, hotels and apartment buildings, all of it a step sideways from Kakagi-aki—you know, the human world.

So, humans can’t see these courts, but to tell you the truth, there’s nothing much to see. Fairies live pretty much like humans. The only difference is they don’t look right. Oh, they seem human enough. It’s just that everything about them is too much. They’re too handsome, too beautiful, sometimes too ugly. Too tall, or too short. And if they don’t look human, then they kind of run the gamut from what they call the treekin—little creatures that look like they’re made of twigs and leaves and the like—to shapeshifters like us. But while they can turn into birds and horses and dogs and all, it’s not the same. They don’t have the animal blood in their veins. They’re not cousins.

Anyway, Tatiana McGree’s the big deal in the fairy world, so her court’s housed in the Harbour Ritz, that fancy place on the lakefront whose main claim to fame is that it once housed Mickey Flynn, the last of the old-time Irish mobsters. Those days are gone now, though they’re not so long gone—especially not how we see time. But these days the place is strictly for the upscale rich, or CEOs coming to town on business trips, with a few penthouse apartments on the top floors for the seriously connected, money-wise.

Jack, Joe, and I get the once-over from the hotel staff when we come in the door looking like three braves down from the rez, but the fairies know who we are and step in quick, moving us sideways to Tatiana’s court where, if there’s going to be a problem, it won’t spill over into the human world. There’s a lot of talk between Joe and the fairies then—these tall, slender blonde guys in nice tailored suits. They argue about protocol and crap like that, but Joe won’t budge and they finally shuffle us off to a waiting room and have somebody bring us tea when we won’t take them up on their offer to partake of something stronger. Oh, I can see that turning down some of that strong fairy home brew is hard on Whiskey Jack, but he’s ready to follow Joe’s lead. Me, I’m only along for the ride, and I’ve got no problems doing the same.