Peter half skipped, half walked at a pace too fast for walking but too slow for running, trying to wring at least a little cover from the umbrella Creteus held high. Creteus strode on, his face set in a scowl, answering the few fae who greeted him with a curt nod.

"Are you sure you want me along?" asked Peter. Creteus gave no indication of having heard him.

"Only I don't know what use I'll be." He wished Creteus would slow down. It was bad enough trying to keep up with humans, never mind this lanky giant.

"Wait. Wait." Peter stopped, put his hands on his knees and gasped for breath, but Creteus appeared not to notice. Peter shook his head and ran forward.

"She's a fine lass, sure enough, but she'll be surrounded by her own sort. Fairies is what I mean." Peter glanced up at Creteus' face but it gave nothing away. "Fairies who don't know me. Oh, they'll recognise me for what I am, right enough, and that's the problem. Hands across the sea and all that, but do you really want me there when they're full of vinegar and piss?"

Creteus stopped so suddenly Peter ran on a couple of steps, then trotted back under the umbrella. Mother Mary and all the saints, even the rain in this god-forsaken city felt foreign and dirty.

"I like her, sure I do, she's all right for a fairy, but maybe now's not the time to thrust me forward."

"We. Are. Fae!" The force of Creteus' voice was almost palpable. "If now's not the time, when we are under attack, then when?"

"Yeah, yeah I get that." Peter grabbed at Creteus' jacket as the man turned to continue his march. "No, wait, this is important. Listen to me. Listen!"

Creteus turned and stared down at the leprechaun.

"She's had her wings cut off, okay? That's bad," said Peter.

"Which is why â?""

"No, no, you don't understand. It's her wings. Her wings! God, how do I explain this? Their wings, they're not just for flitting from buttercup to buttercup. They're not just wings, see? They're part of her, part of who she is, part of her soul. Okay, imagine some bastard cut off your jewels, and I'm not talking a surgical procedure here, like they just ripped them off. They're tough their wings. A knife wouldn't do it. A saw, maybe, or bolt cutters. But that's not the whole of it. Sure, she'll be in agony, more than fae or human medicine can deal with, but that's not the worst of it. Imagine if they'd castrated you, with all shit that would do to your head. But imagine every time you laugh, or cried, or were angry or had any emotion, imagine every time you felt something it was like having your balls ripped off again."

Peter shook his head. God knew he had no love for the fair folk, but even he wouldn't wish that on one of them.

"Their wings, it's where they keep emotions, their feelings, their everything. It's like when humans talk about their heart, you know? Only this is real. If she sees me and she gets angry, that anger has nowhere to go. You watch her friends. Their wings will be vibrating with emotion, and when they see an aberration like me... But Dawn, she won't be able to deal with it, not without her wings to put it in."

Creteus stared at Peter for a moment, then squatted down on his heels, bring his face almost level with Peter's.

"Did you cut her wings off?" asked Creteus.

"What? Jesus, no. Why'd you say a thing like that?"

"Did I? The elves? Who?"

"Some human bastards."

Creteus nodded. "Some human bastards indeed. You are not Dawn's enemy, nor I, nor any of the fae. If Dawn cannot put her anger anywhere, then we shall do it for her. Not just her friends, not just you and I, but all the fae. This obscenity cannot be left unanswered. And if a leprechaun can stand beside a fairy and count him a brother in arms, then who can stand against us?"

Creteus stood again and looked down at Peter. "We must all have courage, Peter, in all its forms." With that he turned and resumed his stride. Peter shook his head and trotted after him.

They turned into Walden Road. A hundred metres ahead the road was blocked by a crowd of fae. Creteus slowed his pace to a speed Peter merely had to jog to. As they neared the crowd the fae parted, revealing a knot of fairies surrounding Bob and the hippy woman. What were they doing here? Peter wondered. Oh, he knew what they thought they were doing, but couldn't they read the crowd?

"Creteus!" called Bob. Creteus paused at the steps to the front door of a 60s tenement, turned to Bob and raised an eyebrow.

"They won't let us in," said Bob. "We're here to help." Creteus turned towards the door and started up the steps. "At least tell her we're here."

Peter nodded at the two humans and scurried after Creteus.