In the street Ess marched up to Oz's car and kicked the rear tyre repeatedly until the whole car shook.

"Um, Ess, dear?" said Oz, keeping his distance.

"Shut up!" She took a final kick, swinging all her weight behind it, before slamming her palms on the roof. Oz winced and made to move her hands, but quickly thought better of it.

"How can he be human?" she asked the car.

Behind her, Oz shrugged.

"We were dusted, and it had to be at his house. Didn't it? Unless it was just before, or maybe just after. Someone had me followed the other day. Maybe they did it."

"Can you remember when you started feeling woozy?"

Ess whirled on Oz, and his face showed his instant regret at having spoken. "What a bloody stupid question. That's like asking where you put something down you've lost. Of course I don't remember the exact second. I didn't even realise it at the time. But me and Shades got a massive dose."

"Maybe it's like lead."

Ess frowned. "What? Make sense. What's like lead?"

"Fairy dust. Maybe it's cumulative, like a heavy metal. You've taken a couple of hits. Maybe Davenport wasn't dusting you, you were just open to suggestion, based on the toxins already there."

Ess stared over Oz's shoulder. Oz had the rare good sense to remain silent as she thought.

"No," she said at last. "I mean, if it was just me, maybe, but Shades had it all washed off him. He didn't breathe it in like us in Regent's Park. And Dorothy and her chatty friend said I had to detox. That wouldn't do any good if it couldn't be purged. And it would mean I was open to any suggestion, which I'm not."

"I can think of a suggestion or two we could test -- no, no, wrong time for jokes, sorry." He backed away from Ess' glare. "Did Davenport use any form of words or phrases that struck you as odd?"

"Like what?"

"Anything that could have been a spell or incantation."

Ess thought, but the memory of the previous evening slipped and shimmered like an old childhood recollection. "Not that I can remember. Why?"

"Just exploring possibilities. What did you get from your reading of Davenport's aura?"

"He's human."

"Unusual for a politician, but besides that. Did you read anything significant?"

Ess shook her head. "I was too angry to do a full reading."

"It's just that he was either totally confused or a bloody good liar, even for a politician."

Ess thought back. There hadn't been any hint of a lie in his aura, not that she could tell. It wasn't conclusive, of course. It wasn't a full reading and some people lied all too easily, but she was usually pretty good at picking that up.

"He did it," she said, but the anger was slowly decaying into doubt.

"Oh, I'm not going to stand here and defend a politician. I'm an academic. If word got back to my students my street cred would go straight down the gutter. But it might be that he accidentally manipulated you whilst you were under the influence. I've been reading up on him. He seems to have fooled a lot of people. Either that or, you know..." Oz shrugged.

"Or what?"

"Or he is what it says on the tin. He's a politician who genuinely is a good egg. Which could explain why he's sat on the side-lines for so long. It's not cream that floats in politics."

Ess clenched and unclenched her fists, staring into the middle distance. Damn Oz and his reasonable arguments. It was Davenport, she knew it. But why? Was it just that her fury needed a target, and kicking Oz's car wasn't nearly as satisfying as burying her boot into guilty flesh? There was something wrong there, something she should be able to see, just on the edge of her perception. She turned her phone on, off so she couldn't be badgered by Shades. She patted the roof of the car.

"Sorry about kicking your car," she said.

"Well, better her than me, though I did wonder of the old girl would be able to stand up to --"

Ess' phone rang. She answered it without thinking.

"Ess," she said.

"Ms. Williams." It took her a moment to place the voice, then she recognised him.

"Mister Whitmarsh." Of course. Who else would it be, having just confronted his boss?

"I've just had a rather disturbing conversation with Mister Davenport." 'Mister Davenport'. Not 'Peter' anymore. She'd dropped in the social rankings, obviously.

"There's a coincidence," she said. "So have I."

"I have to ask, what's the angle?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, as far as I can gather, you're accusing him of being a pixie. Is this some sort of psychological interrogation technique they teach in whatever Internet school of pretend detectives you've got a certificate from? Has Santa Claus kidnapped that woman you were asking about? She must have been a naughty girl indeed."

Ess felt the heat rising up her face. "Did you have something to say, or did you just phone to make stupid comments?"

"Stupid? I'm not the one who's accusing the Easter Bunny in the library with the lead pipe."

"Goodbye."

"Wait!"

Ess hesitated, her thumb over the disconnect button. Finally she returned the phone to her ear.

"What?"

"Ms. Williams, you are in serious trouble, not least from yourself. I deal with people. That's my job, twenty-four seven. PR people, politicians, the great unwashed and, of course, journalists. Trust me when I tell you I could take a mass-murderer and make him the darling of the press, and vice versa. That's what I do, but in this case, I don't have to. You are doing it yourself. Listen to yourself. Fairies? Really? Where are you going to go with a story like that? Name one person that won't laugh in your face if you tell them. I could let it be known that you have no qualifications or experience in detective work. I could let drop rumours I've heard about your belief in demons and vampires and whatever else you've read about in comic books. I don't suppose your professor friend would fare well either if it got around he was facilitating you in this. As it is it's going to be difficult to persuade Mister Davenport to employ Simon. I could do all this, but I don't have to."

"You can do whatever you want. I'm going to find Daisy."

"And you are free to do whatever you want, but actions have consequences. I would think very carefully before screaming from the rooftops that you believe in fairies. People do, I'm sure, but they tend to be people who are under close medical supervision. Now, I advised my employer to have nothing more to do with you, but despite your little show this afternoon, he is still concerned. He is worried about you. He wants to know if there's anything he can do to help. Frankly, I think the only help you can benefit from is psychological, but he's a kinder man than I."

"Stuff you!" Ess hit the disconnect button before Whitmarsh could respond to her scathing wit.

"What did he say?" asked Oz.

"That I'm bonkers. That if I step out of line he'll get you and Shades sacked and me committed. More or less."

"The little shit. I'll snap the turd in two."

Ess bit her lower lip. "You can sort of see his point though. I mean, we know there are fairies, but how can we say that to normal people? And anyway, we're no nearer to finding her."

Oz stabbed his finger at her. "Don't you dare! Don't you even think about quitting."

"I thought you wanted me to quit."

"Yes, well, that was before he threatened me. The arrogant little fart. Me! Not that he could get me sacked. The faculty have tried for years, and they've not even got close. But that's not the point. He threatened me, and by Jupiter he's going to regret that."