The Scientific Method

“It’s true! It’s true!” Judy fought the urge to clap her hands while hopping up and down. That would be unprofessional. “Fairies are real!”

The little blue man trapped in the sticky tape folded his arms over his chest and scowled up at her. His translucent wings rustled angrily. “No duh. Are you going to let me go or not?”

“Hold still. I need pictures.”

“Oh, for … ” The fairy sighed and struck a series of poses while Judy snapped away. “Nobody’s going to believe this, you know.”

“They will when I take you to Harvard.” Judy fumbled her journal out of her backpack and furiously scribbled notes.

“What? Harvard? Hey. Hey, wait a minute. You can’t do that.”

“I have to. You’re right. Photoshop and CGI have made all pictures suspect. No one will believe me unless I show them an actual specimen.”

“I am not a specimen!”

“You most certainly are. How big are you?”

“I could handle you, sweetie. I know spells.”

“I meant, how tall?” To cover her flush, Judy rummaged through her pack for her tape measure. “I’ll need your wingspan, too.”

The fairy tilted his head and regarded her curiously. “You’re not the usual fairy hunter, are you?”

Judy drew herself up primly. “Certainly not. My name is Dr. Judith Prescott, and I am an accredited cryptozoologist.”

“A what?”

Judy sighed. She was used to that reaction. “I hunt for proof of presumed extinct and mythological creatures. I was told this area was brimming with them. And here you are!” Eww, that came out kind of squealy. She measured the fairy’s wings, then snapped another picture. “Do you have a name?”

“Like I’d tell you.”

“I can keep you in that tape for as long as I want.” The fairy mumbled something. “I’m sorry?”

“So am I. More than you could ever imagine.”

“I mean, I didn’t catch your name.”

“You’re going to force me to say it aloud? Fine. I should have expected torture from a biggun. It’s Twinkleglitter.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Mom wanted a girl, all right? Look, just call me Glit.”

“All right … Glit. Are you from around here?”

“No way I’m telling you anything. I’ll bet cryptowhatsis isn’t even a real profession.”

“It will be after I get you to Harvard.”

“No! Look, I’ll make you a deal. You let me go and I’ll show you stuff that’ll make me look like a Smurf. Werewolves. Werecoyotes. Werebats and cats. Were-you-name-its. Pick a species, we’ve got it. There’s a Loch Ness Monster in an underground ocean. Let’s see you take that to Harvard.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“It’s real. I swear. My cousin's been chasing after a couple of bears since last week. I guess by now you heard about the unicorn, right?”

“It turned out to be a horse with a fake horn strapped to its head.”

“A werehorse, you mean. He’s banging the ranch owner.”

Judy started to scoff, then caught herself. The rancher’s horse had looked at her oddly, and with far too much intelligence in its eyes. She would have sworn that hard bump it gave her with its back end was deliberate. She was less sure about the droppings she kept stepping in. But now that she thought about it …

“I’m just supposed to take your word for this? How do I know you won’t go fluttering off if I free you from the tape?”

“Look, toots, a fairy’s word is good as gold. You peel me out of this, I’ll show you stuff that’ll have your name all over CNN. They’ll be making reality shows about you. The Crytowhatsis Hunter.”

“I want better than CNN. I want National Geographic.”

“Done.” He extended his hand. After a moment’s deliberation, Judy cautiously offered her finger. The fairy shook it. With a bit of tugging and a lot of words she assumed were Gaelic swearing, Judy got the fairy free. He shook out his wings and spun around her head in a dizzling twirl that left glitter in its wake. There were flecks of glitter on the tape as well. She stuffed the tape into her bag when the fairy wasn’t looking.

“Okay,” Glit said. “We’ll start with the wolves. You like werewolves? You’d better. They’re everywhere. Talbot’s Peak is hip-deep in them. All we have to do is walk down the street.”

“How do I prove these are werewolves? Harvard will want proof.”

“Hey, we didn’t agree to that. Proof’s your problem. I just point ‘em out. Ready to be a celebrity? Let’s roll.”

He streaked toward her Land Rover. Judy hefted her backpack, visions of the cover of NatGeo and a Discovery Channel series dancing in her head, all bright and glittery like fairy dust.