“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.”

My eyes widened. This hadn’t been on his blog; he’d saved it for the show. Awesome. “The Beatles were fairies?”

“Please, don’t say that word. Maybe not like that. Not specifically them, maybe. But all those screaming insane crowds? The reactions they got? No one had ever seen anything like it. They must have had some kind of crazy magic. What if it was a case of elven magic intersecting with modern rock and roll?”

Or maybe they were just really talented songwriters and musicians … “Hmm. It would certainly give a whole new meaning to ‘I Am the Walrus.’”

“Yeah. Or no—wait a minute. I’m not talking about the lyrics so much as the effect.”

“The screaming hordes of teenage girls we’ve all seen in the concert footage.”

“The Beatles started an epidemic of that sort of thing,” Martin said with obvious awe. “Almost had to be supernatural, don’t you think?”

I rather thought it may have had something to do with the widespread availability of television ushering in an era of hyped-up pop culture and mass consumerism. But I was willing to humor him.

“You may very well be onto something. Let me ask you a question: should there be an effect with recorded music, or is it only live?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? It would seem to only have an effect on live audiences, but they’ve sold millions of records. In fact, I’m developing a study that would examine this exact question. If only I can find the funding for it. I’ve applied for several grants. No luck yet, I’m afraid.” He slouched a little.

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before someone steps forward to help out.” Coming on my show certainly wouldn’t hurt. I wondered if I’d opened a can of worms.

“That’s just it—this isn’t frivolous research. It’s an investment.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes! If I can figure out what the magical thing is, package it somehow, then sell it—can you imagine?”

“Didn’t they do that already with the Backstreet Boys? And the Spice Girls?”

He frowned. “Oh … oh, someone’s already done it is what you’re saying?”

Many times over, I thought. “Fairy magic really is the only explanation for some of that music, isn’t it?”

“I’m going to have to think about this.” He was staring at the microphone, wide-eyed, contemplating whole new vistas of potential, undoubtedly.

“And I think we’ll wrap it up there,” I said. “Thank you very much for coming to talk with me, Martin.”

“Oh—yes. Thank you!”