I lay there, tired, trying to figure out this enmity between the local fairies and those that had started to come over when the first Europeans landed on these shores. I didn’t actually want to be thinking about this, but I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I don’t know how long I would have lain there, unable to sleep, but something else came to me then, the memory of that elusive snatch of fiddle music I’d heard in the parking lot, just before Hazel showed up. It teased me with its familiarity. I felt I knew it, but in a different setting, maybe at a quicker pace. But instead of keeping me awake, the memory of the music lulled me into a feeling of great peace and sadness, and I drifted off.

Galfreya

It took a moment for Galfreya to realize she wasn’t alone in the central courtyard of the mall. She turned slowly to look down both of the long halls that ran east and west and south from where she stood before focusing her attention on the displays of stuffed animals that had been set up in the courtyard by the Newford Museum of Natural History. They were a sorry collection of creatures . . . wolves, bears, a bison, foxes, deer, falcons, hawks, owls, a family of raccoons . . . skin and horns, hooves and feathers commandeered to re-create a semblance of life that was betrayed by glass eyes and stances that were not quite natural. The birds fared best—at least their fur wasn’t worn in places from the touch of a thousand hands—but they were still nailed to their perches.

The poor dead creatures were just as they’d been since the display had been installed earlier in the week. There were no additions. One or more of the dead hadn’t suddenly become animated. She could still see no one in the halls, nor outside the front doors of the mall, nor in the shop windows closest to hand. But the presence she felt was close all the same.

“Okay,” she finally said. “You’re good. I’ll give you that. But even if I can’t see you, I still know you’re here.”

“What, a big shot seer like you can’t find one itty-bitty me?”

The disembodied voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It was a woman’s voice, smoky and low, and not one Galfreya recognized.

“I’m hardly a big shot,” she replied. “Would I be living in a shopping mall if I was?”

“Who knows? The ways of a seer are mysterious. And you do have your own fairy court.”

“They’re not my court. This just happens to be a handy place to hold our revels. Once the cleaning staff is gone, we have the place to ourselves. And why am I telling you all of this?” she added as an afterthought.