WALTERS: So … you claim that your last name is Charming.
ME: Well, with a capital C, yes. My name is John Charming.
WALTERS: And you’re the descendant of the original Prince Charming.
ME: There was no original Prince Charming. Have you ever heard of a Charming dynasty anywhere? Some of my ancestors became involved in some [CENSORED]-up events that got distorted over time and passed down as fairy tales. None of them were royalty.
WALTERS: They weren’t?
ME: No, they were not.
WALTERS: So, why call them Princes?
ME: If you were a storyteller in the Dark Ages, you didn’t tell stories about violent heroic commoners, Barbara. The nobles didn’t want the riffraff getting any ideas. Working-class peasants getting visited by elves or fairy godmothers? Sure. Joe Schmoe picking up an axe and carving up a powerful monster who lived in a castle full of treasure? That was a little too close to home.
WALTERS: So, your ancestors were really commoners.
ME: My ancestors were Gaulish soldiers who became crypt robbers after Rome conquered Gaul. Learning how to deal with undead monsters and magical curses was part of the job. Then eventually one of them figured out that monsters who live a long time tend to accumulate lots of legally seizable wealth, so my family stopped being criminals and became monster hunters full-time.
WALTERS: So, they weren’t exactly peasants, either.
ME: It took a few generations, but my family eventually became rich and later became titled and crossed over to England during the Norman invasion. But hunting monsters is how we got our name.
WALTERS: I don’t understand.
ME: Regular folk were named after their occupation back then. It’s why we still have last names like Miller and Smith and Hooker and Dungburner.
WALTERS: But how is grave-robbing charming?
ME: Okay, I know I’m imagining this interview, but this really isn’t how I imagined this interview.
WALTERS: Have you ever seen one of my interviews?
ME: Just clips. You always look very earnest in them. Like everything the person is saying is the most important thing you’ve ever heard, and you’re taking everything very seriously.
WALTERS: Is that a problem for you? You present yourself as something of a smartass. Do you want to be taken seriously?
ME: —
WALTERS: John?
ME: To go back to your original question, part of being a monster hunter was being a witchfinder. And part of being a witchfinder was selling charms and breaking enchantments and showing people how to set up wards. That’s how we got the name Charming.
WALTERS: But wouldn’t that make you John Charmer? There are Millers, not Millings. Carpenters, not Carpentering.
ME: Wow. You’re tougher than I thought.
WALTERS: As you pointed out, you’re imagining me right now. Are you tough on yourself?
ME: You’re not going to make me cry, Barbara. [CENSORED] off.
WALTERS: We’ll get back to that. You haven’t explained why your name wouldn’t be Charmer.
ME: If you’re really interested, a lot of people’s names ended with -ing before Alexander Pope started formalizing verb tenses. You still get the occasional Hunting and Manning and Dunning and Redding and so on.
WALTERS: It turns out I’m not really interested.
ME: Okay.
WALTERS: So. John Charming. You hunt monsters.
ME: Yes.
WALTERS: You must be very good at it. I’ve never seen one.
ME: You probably have. Remember Sleeping Beauty, where the fairies put a whole kingdom under a sleeping spell?
WALTERS: Yes.
ME: Well, the fae put most of the world under a spell. It keeps people from noticing any supernatural event that isn’t a direct threat to their existence.
WALTERS: So, the supernatural is invisible?
ME: Some beings maybe, but not as a general rule.
WALTERS: I don’t understand.
ME: What did the third person who passed your car this morning look like?
ME: Was he or she invisible?
WALTERS: According to you, they might have been.
ME: Hah. Maybe they were. But probably not. You just didn’t notice them. That’s how the Pax Arcana works. A zombie could be doing interpretive dance behind you right now, and you just wouldn’t register it as anything worth questioning or remembering.
WALTERS: Is there a zombie doing interpretive dance behind me right now?
ME: No.
WALTERS: So. This spell. You called it the Pax Arcana?
ME: That’s what we call the whole magical truce that the spell helps maintain.
WALTERS: A truce? That sounds like there was a war.
ME: There was. It was called the Dark Ages. Mankind and magickind almost wiped each other out.
WALTERS: Are you talking about inquisitions and witch trials?
ME: Not just them. There are thousands of recorded references to supernatural beings and how to kill them. We just look at those written scraps as proof of how barbaric and irrational ancient people were instead of treating them as actual historical documents. Like we’re so much more intelligent than our ancestors because we have smartphones and espresso machines.
WALTERS: Are you still talking about fairy tales?
ME: I’m talking about diaries, letters, and court transcripts. Pliny the Elder. Paracelsus. The Book of Kells. And that’s only the cases that were written about in a time when most people were illiterate and there were no printing presses or phones or televisions. Figure there must have been thousands of events for every one that got written down. Then figure that for every document that survived the ravages of time, Saxon invasions, and church bonfires, there must have been hundreds of—
WALTERS: You’ve made your point. So we almost destroyed magical beings. How did they almost destroy us? Wouldn’t that have made the history books?
ME: Did you ever hear of the Black Death?
WALTERS: —
ME: That wasn’t just a plague. It was a magical curse. That’s what forced us to agree to the Pax Arcana. Two thirds of the Western world died.
WALTERS: Who is this “us” you keep referring to?
ME: The Knights Templar.
WALTERS: [Laughing] So, your family didn’t just become knights; they became Illuminati.
ME: We don’t use the I word. And there are other secret societies in other cultures who help keep mankind and magickind apart too.
WALTERS: If no one notices these monsters all around us, why bother?
ME: I said no one notices monsters who aren’t a direct threat to their existence. Some are direct threats.
WALTERS: So, some monsters are still … monstrous?
ME: Yes. And knights still take care of them.
WALTERS: You mean you kill them.
ME: If they’re not already dead, yes.
WALTERS: But only the monsters who draw attention to themselves.
ME: Yes. That’s the Pax Arcana in a nuthouse. I mean, nutshell.
WALTERS: I find all of this very disturbing.
ME: Well, my name could have just as easily been John Disturbing. I guess I lucked out.
WALTERS: John Disturbing might be more appropriate. You don’t seem very charming, if you don’t mind me saying so.
ME: No one likes to be stereotyped, Barbara.
WALTERS: But aren’t knights supposed to be chivalrous?
ME: First of all, I’m no longer a knight. Secondly, knightly honor is a load of horse[CENSORED]. Most knights considered raping commoners a right of birth. They rode around on trained warhorses and wrapped themselves in plate mail and mostly killed unarmored men on foot who were armed with axes and pitchforks. If a knight got captured in battle, he usually wasn’t killed, because he was worth a lot of money. He gave his word not to escape—his parole—and sat out the rest of the war, drinking wine and listening to minstrels and flirting with the ladies in his host’s castle until his family ransomed him. Do you know why the Magna Carta got signed?
WALTERS: [Laughing again] Because of magic?
ME: No. Because English peasants came up with a longbow that could punch an armored knight off his horse at ninety yards. As soon as [CENSORED] got real, knights got more reasonable.
WALTERS: You seem angry about knights. Why aren’t you one any longer?
ME: I became a werewolf.
WALTERS: A werewolf.
ME: Yes. A werewolf.
WALTERS: Can you change into a wolf right now?
ME: I said I was a werewolf. I didn’t say I was good at it.
WALTERS: Well, maybe I’ll see you on a full moon.
ME: Let’s hope not.
WALTERS: So. You hunted monsters. Then you became a monster.
ME: Yep. Nietzsche called that one.
WALTERS: And you were surrounded by monster hunters.
ME: Yes. It was socially awkward.
WALTERS: So you left.
ME: Actually, I ran for my life and spent several decades hiding.
WALTERS: Decades? You don’t look older than thirty.
ME: My body heals from most damage really quickly. Age is a kind of damage.
WALTERS: Wow. [Laughing] Sign me up.
ME: Hardly anybody younger than thirteen and older than forty survives being bitten by a werewolf, Barbara, and then only if they’re in really good shape. Most people’s hearts give out during their first change, before the fast healing kicks all the way in. Then they can’t have kids. A fetus can’t take that kind of punishment either.
WALTERS: Still …
ME: Then there’s the emotional side. Becoming a werewolf means having a lot of foreign instincts and really primal impulses hardwired into your brain. It’s like spot-welding a refrigerator to a dishwashing machine. Sometimes, you wind up trying to wash dishes in the freezer compartment. A lot of people can’t handle it.
WALTERS: But you handled it.
ME: It’s like being an alcoholic. It never stops being a struggle. And werewolves live a long time.
WALTERS: Is that why you seem so angry when you talk about knights?
ME: —
WALTERS: John?
ME: I hid among normal humans for a long time. I got lonely. I fell in love. A knight found me and killed the woman I loved while he was trying to get to me. And it was my fault. That’s why I’m still angry when I talk about knights.
WALTERS: This woman …
WALTERS: No?
ME: I’ve said all I’m going to say about that.
WALTERS: So, that’s still a struggle too.
ME: Are we done here?
WALTERS: Why this interview? Aren’t you still being hunted?
ME: No. A while back, some werewolves organized into a really big pack and started giving the knights a hard time. The knights agreed to stop hunting me after I helped them broker a peace treaty with the wolves.
WALTERS: Really.
ME: Really. The new leader of the wolves is a friend of mine. He changed the name of the pack to the Round Table and agreed to help the knights with some of the worst supernatural incidents.
WALTERS: [Laughing] The Round Table? Like King Arthur’s Round Table?
ME: Yeah. But more like the Native American tradition of round tables. He’s Chippewa and has a weird sense of humor.
WALTERS: So, you have friends.
ME: Yes. And there’s someone in my life again.
WALTERS: Another werewolf?
ME: She’s a Valkyrie, actually.
WALTERS: A Valkyrie.
ME: Yep. Her name is Sig.
WALTERS: We’re talking Wagner here. Big horned helmet. Huge singing voice.
ME: We’re talking someone who can shot-put a prize pig and sees dead people. That’s actually how Sig and I met.
WALTERS: Shot-putting prize pigs?
ME: No. The ghost of the woman I loved sort of rented some space in Sig’s brain for a little while.
WALTERS: That must have been complicated.
ME: I also killed Sig’s former lover.
WALTERS: Was he a monster?
ME: Yes, but the human kind.
WALTERS: So, it was very complicated.
ME: Sig and I both had a lot of issues we hadn’t dealt with, and they sort of all came together in a perfect storm.
WALTERS: This really is starting to sound Wagnerian.
ME: I wouldn’t know. I don’t actually like opera. It’s the way people sing conversations. It freaks me out.
WALTERS: That’s what freaks you out?
ME: Everything’s relative.
WALTERS: Let’s get back to Sig.
ME: Okay.
WALTERS: You’re in love, however you got there. You have friends. Are you happy now?
ME: I am. That’s freaking me out a little too.
WALTERS: I’m sure it is. From what you’ve said, you were orphaned, then condemned by the people who raised you. You were alone for decades. Then the one person who accepted you for who you were was killed, and you blame yourself for it. Do you ever talk to her through this Sig?
ME: No. Alison and I said good-bye.
WALTERS: Her name was Alison? If you could say anything to Alison, right now, what would you say?
ME: —
WALTERS: [Leaning in like a compassionate vulture] John?
ME: [Tearing up] Dammit, Barbara.
WALTERS: What would you say?
ME: [Whispering] Thank you.
WALTERS: Thank you?
ME: Thank you for teaching me how to love.
WALTERS: [Leaning back with an air of self-satisfaction] So. What’s next for John Charming?
ME: [Wiping moisture from corners of eyes] Well, I’m going to try really hard not to make fun of you for asking me to refer to myself in the third person.
WALTERS: And after that?
ME: It turns out that the Knights Templar aren’t the only Western secret society that knows about the Pax Arcana. I recently found out about some organization called the School of Night.
WALTERS: The School of Night.
ME: It’s an occult group that goes all the way back to Shakespeare’s time.
WALTERS: Is this School of Night a friend or an enemy?
ME: Definitely an enemy. It took them a long time, but they actually managed to infiltrate the Knights Templar. They grafted a fake branch onto the Templars’ family tree. We had a whole family of traitors in our ranks going back three or four generations.
WALTERS: You mean they.
ME: What?
WALTERS: The knights. You said we.
ME: Oh. Yeah. It happens.
WALTERS: Isn’t this School of Night enforcing your Pax Arcana too?
ME: I’m not sure. Ultimately, I think they want to destroy it. They definitely want to destroy the Knights Templar.
WALTERS: What would happen if they did?
ME: I have no idea.