A poleaxed FBI agent is slumped in a seat, one hand under his chin, staring at the child across the desk from him. His jaw is locked tight as he carefully and methodically puts his thoughts together

Whoever is feeding her this information must be really good.

The gaiety is gone from her face; the look in her eyes now treads closer to pity.

“I told you, we read dreams. The world is going to change soon. Not all at once, but the signs have already begun to show.”

“We? You’re not the only one who can do this?” Agent Fontaine murmurs. He's centered himself. Now he's somewhat close to his usual cold, steel  composure. 

The child shrugs.

“There’s a reason we came to you. Others would consider me and mine a threat to your country. If they find out what we can and can’t do it could mean the end of the world governance system. I believed that you would find it difficult to detain an eleven year old, especially one whose uncle is a Diplomat in your country…

She pauses

"...and we both know the reason why”.

He replies, enunciating each word carefully, “If. Somehow. What you’re saying is true. How come we don’t know your people exist, are you even human?”

She giggles, reminding him for a moment that she is a child.

“We're very good at what we do. The Six Societies have been keeping secrets since before the beginning of your Common Era. We've made a few mistakes, but now… we’re pretty amazing at staying hidden.”

She pauses for a moment, and then murmurs, as if thinking out loud, “The difficult part will be coming out of hiding I think.”

“You don’t believe me yet,” she sighs, “Soon you will have no choice. Signs will begin to show…”

Fontaine’s mind clicks steadily through the information he has. The picture is still incomplete.

“Six Societies that can read dreams. Does each society have different goals? what is your motive?”

She giggles again, almost disarming him “Every member of the Six Societies has their own goals and ambitions, we're not machines. Societies are based on the paths we choose and the things those paths let us do.”

“And what do the others do?”

“You will find out soon enough Mr. Fontaine,” she says, voice prim, reprimanding. “It’s enough for now that you know about one Society.”

Fontaine tries another angle, “You represent this Society of so-called dream readers?”

She laughs out loud. More like a woman than a child this time. 

“You are a sly man Mr. Fontaine. Trying to get as much out of me as you can/ I told you, this is a conversation, not an interrogation.”

She cocks her head slightly, taking a moment to muse, and continues “Since you’ve asked. Yes, you were too important for me to leave this to another.” 

She sits up and tilts her chin regally before she announces, “I am the Fae, leader of the First Society, Dream Mother of The Faerie and their chair on the Council of Six.”

“I don’t know if you can hear yourself. You sound crazy.” Fontaine stands up wearily, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his brow

Why am I speaking to her as if she’s an adult?

He smiles kindly, as if to cut the bite of his words, “First you tell me there’s a whole group of people out there, that we are somehow totally unaware of, and they can read minds. Besides that, there are other groups of people who can do… whatever it is they do, and these groups hob nob with each other on the regular. To top it off you are a leader of the dream watching gypsies and you rigged this whole scenario so you could meet me. How old are you again?”

“I’ll be eleven next month. Just so you know travelling here from my country is very hard. Like, very, very hard. Why do your people make such a fuss over imaginary lines?”

Agent Fontaine takes moment to think.

...An overactive imagination, or early onset schizophrenia. People can’t read dreams, the fact that she thinks she leads a group of people who do is beyond insane. She probably got the information about the bombing somewhere and her subconscious twists it into this cuckoo wonderland. I still haven’t found a grain of believable truth

Yaa Boateng is nonchalantly poking at the screen of a powder blue smartphone as he paces in a tight pattern, firm footsteps somewhat muffled by the dark grey carpeting of the office. She seems to quite deliberately ignore him as he tries to squeeze the conversation into a box confined by the bounds of what is normal.

She finally pipes up again, “Before we end this, your Denise will be at the grocery store at the corner of her block this evening at 7:30. ou know, the whole foods one she usually goes to. Surprise her with flowers, she likes white roses, and take off your ring before you do.” She hops off the swivel chair and stands as if to leave.

“We’ll talk again, you have my number. Good-bye. I'm very sorry for bending your day dream”

With a start, Fontaine notices that he’s somehow in his seat again. The office seems sharper, more real than it did a second ago... The child is nowhere in it.

Cursing under his breath he darts to the door and opens it, bumping into a junior agent on the other side.

“Blunt, have you seen the African kid we brought in earlier? She was probably wearing a pink back pack.”

“Uhmm... yeah. She left a few minutes ago, said you’d released her. Showed us a copy of the paper work. Don’t you remember?”

Fontaine curses again and mutters under his breath as he brushes past Blunt, “She made me sign it in advance before she gave any information. A ‘show of good faith’ my ass!”He gets to the glass doors of the main entrance just in time to see a limousine with diplomatic plates pull away.

***

Special Agent Bill Fontaine stands at the entrance to the whole foods store, a bouquet of white roses tucked under his arm as he wrestles a white gold wedding band off. 

It’s not as if I believe her, but… well let’s see.

He steps in and looks for around a minute. Some part of his mind rebels and he turns to leave.

“Bill?”

She’s standing at the checkout counter, in all the ruffled, ditzy glory that is Denise Cho.

“Denise. Hi. These are for you.” He smiles akwardly and shifts his weight.

With a barely audible gasp, she steps into him and holds on for a long moment.

“You took it off. You finally took off the ring,” she murmurs into his shoulder.

She sighs and pulls away slightly, fussing with the lapels of his jacket without meeting his eyes. “So we really are…” She leaves the question hanging.

“Yes” he replies. She looks into his eyes and he’s not at all surprised that hers are moist with tears.

It’s amazing how close her emotions are to the surface.

Denise finally takes the flowers, “White roses, my favorite, how did you know.” She smiles, eyes sparkling. In a split second the look changes to a puzzled frown.

“Wait, how did you know I would be here? I usually shop on Tuesdays, not Thursday.”

“A weird little African girl might have given me pointers” He thinks drily.

Denise sucks in a sharp breath of surprise. “You met the Fae!” she says suddenly, “That can't be right. But it is, isn't it?”.

Fontaine grips her arms tightly and holds her away from him

“I know I met a child who called herself that. How do you know? Are you reading my dreams as well?”

She smiles and touches his cheek lightly; disarming the klaxons blaring in his head. “Not here, let me get my bags”.

She brushes his left arm to comfort him and then leans in close to whisper into his ear, “I couldn’t walk in your dreams even if I wanted to. I’m not Faerie; I took a different Path, Psychic.”

##