Michael stood at the balustrade overlooking Bethesda Terrace and checked his watch one more time. His pulse quickened with anticipation. The first time he’d seen one of these markets, he’d had no idea what was happening. He’d tried to rationalize an entire festival materializing out of thin air in Central Park. Now that he knew the truth, he braced himself for the shock. One more check of his watch showed that he still had a couple more minutes. Others were starting to gather in the area. He was sure most of them were some kind of fairy folk, but now he knew there were more humans in on the secret. A stirring in the waters of the lake on the other side of the terrace startled him, then he realized that there were people in the water—using the term “people” loosely, of course. Beau, who’d been slumped against the railing, came to attention and stood, so Michael checked his watch again. It was almost time. He held his breath, and while he waited, the terrace suddenly transformed.
