Claudia
June is the month where all of the invitations come rolling in, because summer is the time of get-togethers and everyone knows that the Jacks are the life of the party. That left Maguire and I with the joy of having to choose which to accept and which to politely decline. I called dibs on doing the rude rejections. It felt great, especially since I knew some of the parties took it as a compliment.
The one invitation I accepted automatically was to the Junebug Jubilee, because I’d always wanted to go and it came in a rather official looking envelope.
“What’s a junebug?” Maguire asked. “And why are they so happy?”
“It’s a kind of insect, though I’m not sure if the insect itself has anything to do with the celebration or it’s someone’s nickname. That is one of the many things the fae will never give a straight answer on, though it is very fun to ask.”
“Fair enough. I take it you’ve been before?”
“The Jubilee is celebrated all over, but I’ve never been to this particular party before. We got an invite courtesy of the friend I made while you were doing the gathering.”
“Oh good, so she did come through on that. I look forward to seeing her again, as well as whatever this celebration is.”
“What do you know of the fae?” I asked.
“I know stories, but I don’t know if I’ve met any. From what I hear, they tend to keep to themselves.”
“That would be an understatement.” I tacked the invitation to the wall, and grabbed the pen to mark the dates on the calendar. “They rarely come into our world and the few times they do, they can’t travel far beyond their gates. Something to do with a deal made in ancient times to keep the worlds from growing too close. I think it built upon something that was already in place, to reinforce what both parties wanted to have in place.”
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“From what I read, the two worlds have a sort of symbiotic relationship, though the exact nature of it is the subject of an astounding number of debates,” he replied. “I highly doubt there will ever be anything resembling an answer, but the conversations and theories surrounding the topic are fascinating.”
“They really are. My bet is they're all a little true but anyone who actually knows will never tell.”
I'd had plenty of time to think about the possibility of the rest of the society's disappearance being fae related, and while it didn't feel likely, they might know something. And if not them, then one of the other celebrants of the Jubilee.
The longer the world went with only two jacks, the messier things were getting, and the longer it would take to put things to rights. The Jacks had plenty of friends to help fill in the gaps, but that bandaid wouldn't hold forever. We either needed to go on a serious recruiting streak, or find a way to get the others back. Probably both. This invitation might just help us hit both birds with one stone.
So, we got to work, calling in some favors and arranging for a few meetings before and after the Jubilee. We also had to figure out travel and make sure all of the traditions were properly honored, which was its own to-do list.
The day after we sent our acceptance, I started seeing signs of something being in our house that shouldn’t be. At first, I thought the fairies had regained their interest in tormenting us for not letting humans get caught up in their Fool’s Hunt, after growing bored. On closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t fairies we were dealing with, but pixies. And those pixies were leaving us a message.
It took Maguire and I an hour in the library to piece together what it was they were trying to say, at least at face value.
“These are coordinates for a place not that far from where the Jubilee will be taking place,” he commented. I looked at the spot he’d marked on the map.
“That they are. It seems we have received a second invitation to perhaps a more private meeting.”
“Should we both go, or should we plan to divide and conquer?”
“We should be prepared for any number of things, but I don’t think we can really plan until we get there. Things are rarely straightforward when it comes to the fae and the pixies.”
“So we do what we do best. We wing it.”
“Exactly.”
Something behind us giggled at the pun, and I did my best to ignore it. It would go away eventually. Hopefully. Once it was done indulging in its preferred brand of mischief.
The little punk filled our socks with itching powder. Easy enough to wash out, but very potent.