The Maebown

by Christopher Shields

  Zeus nodded. “I believe Isis would prefer returning to her territory, if given the chance, but that is a problem. She knows better than to challenge Ozara. And the biggest problem, we can’t easily get to her.”

  Sinopa nodded, her light brown eyes fixed on mine. “Isis is Earth-inclined, and capable of destroying any who venture through the Seoladán uninvited—we don’t need long to materialize, but we would be vulnerable. Undoubtedly, they took extra precautions after our last visit.”

  Sinopa turned her head back up the hill toward the cottage, and the long braid of ebony hair slipped over her shoulder and into her lap. “Maggie, your family is looking for you. Perhaps we can continue our discussion in an hour.”

  I didn’t want to leave because I was, once again, learning things about the Fae I had never known before, but my family needed me. “Okay, I’ll be back down shortly.”

  Gavin, Billy, and Sara walked with me back to the cottage. I cast an Air barrier around us at the first bluff line for privacy.

  “I have to admit,” Billy started, “that went much better than I assumed it would.”

  “Did I display enough confidence?” I asked, teasing him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “Sara was correct. I’m not in my right mind. Forgive me?”

  “Please, I’ve already forgotten,” I said.

  “You’re much better than I am. What I said was unfair to you, Maggie. Your mental and physical well-being is far more important to me than revenge, though I may have temporarily lost sight of that.”

  Billy’s words sent a warm sensation through my chest. “Honestly, I was terrified they’d see just how unsure of everything I was. I was worried it would be a mistake to let Dana and Wakinyan tag along.”

  “As has frequently been the case with your decisions, you handled yourself beautifully—completely remarkable under the circumstances,” Sara said. “I was wrong to doubt you.”

  “Really?” I asked, in a pathetic attempt to get reassurance.

  Gavin wrapped my tiny hand in his thick, warm fingers. “It was a stroke of genius—all of it. Allowing Dana to project with you—her attitude has completely changed.” He turned his head slightly to the left. “Even now, they are discussing your character and strength. You’ve bought us all a little time.”

  “So, Poseidon really despises Pele?”

  “I believe the human euphemism is oil and water,” Billy said. “Poseidon doesn’t really like anyone—except, apparently, you and your dog.”

  Golden light streamed out of the windows of the cottage, backlighting the pink antique roses growing near the library. I hadn’t noticed that it was getting dark. Low lying gray clouds settled over the mountaintops like a massive blanket gently sinking into the nooks and crannies of the Weald. For the first time, I’d noticed a chill in the air.

  “Fall’s coming.”

  Billy nodded. “It’s the middle of September. The leaves will not change for another four weeks.” He was always right about season changes, so I just smiled. A deeper chill set in as I wondered whether I’d get to see it.

  As we crossed the upper garden, I was struck by a sense of nostalgia. A memory of Aunt May hobbling through the bluebeards, the butterfly bushes, and the hydrangeas tugged at my heart. I sank into the vision hoping to lose myself, but my mind wasn’t finished conjuring beautiful, painful memories. Rachel, twirling her hair, trying desperately not to laugh before giggling a little too loud, and Doug’s warm blue eyes looking at me underneath a head of disheveled blond hair—they hit me in the chest and made my throat tighten. Tears dampened my lower lashes when I saw my father. I wanted to hold on to that image, but it faded, leaving nothing but fleeting daylight. I’d stopped walking and wiped at my eyes, fighting for composure.

  “Crap. Sorry.”

  None of my companions said a word.

  Mom and Mitch met us at the door. She studied my face and began turning red. A wide-eyed Mitch silently mouthed, “Oh,” and backed up a step. She was pissed.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She loosed a quick, noisy exhale and nodded. “Where have you been? This morning you tore up the stairs without saying a word,” she said.

  “I’ve been here.”

  Mom raised an eyebrow and her face turned a deep hue of crimson. “I called for you—we looked everywhere. Candace and Ronnie said you disappeared six hours ago—your window was open and you weren’t in your room. None of the Fae were around—”

  “I’m sorry, Mom—”

  “—and I didn’t know what happened to you.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry. The Fae are all down the hill. I didn’t leave the property. I promise.”

  She looked intently in my eyes, and then stared down Gavin. “They’re here?”

  “Yes, Mrs. O’Shea. We’re all down at the lake.”

  With wet eyes, she pulled me to her in a death grip—tight enough to say “I love you” and “I’m pissed” at the same time.

  Gavin walked past us. Billy and Sara followed him downstairs, leaving Mom and me alone in the living room.

  “I want the truth, Maggie. What’s going on? You were gone for weeks and we come here and I think, finally, we’re together again. It’s been ten days and I’ve barely seen you.”

  “I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  She squeezed my neck, making it hard to breathe. “Mom, please…”

  “Start talking.”

  “I can’t breathe.”

  She continued the headlock, like only a Cuban mother could, exerting even more pressure for several seconds. A passerby might think she was trying to hurt me. When I started laughing, she sighed and let go.

  “Why were you upset?” she asked.

  “I was thinking about Dad, Aunt May…all of them.”

  Emotion rimmed her almond-shaped brown eyes with moisture as she turned and glanced out the enormous windows in the living room and focused on a bittersweet memory. She owned a lot of them. We all did.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, a brief, forced smile making an appearance on her strained lips. “Yes. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  That, I couldn’t answer.

  She read my expression, and turned back to the window as she exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it if you’re not.”

  “Mom—”

  “No, don’t rationalize, don’t give me excuses, and don’t treat me like I’m stupid. All I want you to do is figure out a way to be okay—I know you can.”

  I nodded.

  “I need to get your brother and your grandparents out of this house for a little while.”

  Wakinyan wasn’t going to like the idea any more than I did. Away from the Weald, we were vulnerable. Mom’s eyes, determined and a bit manic, told me she was ready for a fight. I was a Maebown, but there was no way I could win this one. So I accepted that I was going to have to put everything on hold and spend some time away from the Fae. “Sure. What about Ronnie’s parents?”

  Mom rolled her eyes. She looked disgusted. “I don’t believe in talking bad about anyone, so I’ll just ignore your question.”

  “Okay. I guess they’re staying here.”

  “He most certainly is staying here—her, I could care less. Poor Ronnie. It’s amazing he turned out so well. That man…” Mom drew in a sharp breath and clenched her fists. She shook her head and forced a smile. “It’s a good thing for him that I can’t do what you can do.”

  “But you can, Mom. Some of it, at least.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve not told you this—maybe I should have.”

  “Tell me what, Maggie?”

  “You’re like me. You can do things.”

  “No, honey, I can’t. I can’t do any of the things you can.”

  “Not yet, but you will learn. Sara told me that you have the same gift that Aunt May had—the same gift that
I have.”

  Mom shook her head. “Maggie, why are you telling me this?”

  My blood ran a little cold. We needed to have the conversation, but I’d been avoiding it for weeks. I mean, really, how do you tell your mother, who just lost the love of her life, and who is about to have a baby and raise it alone, that you may die and she needs to step into a role that will make her a target? Doubts and second thoughts triggered a rush of adrenalin, and my throat began to seize up—each rapid heartbeat forcing more chemicals into my blood, accelerating my body’s response.

  She just stared at me. “Say it, or drop the subject.”

  “I…”

  The tiny vein in her temple filled with blood and turned blue against her skin, and the muscles in her neck contracted as her nostrils flared. “Just say it,” she snapped.

  I thought she might slap me. If we’d switched places, I would have slapped me.

  “If something does happen to me—if—then I want you to be Steward. Someone from our—“

  “No,” she said in a nearly inaudible, guttural growl.

  “Someone in our family has to take over,” I pressed.

  She turned her face. “Has to? And if I don’t want to take over? If instead of spending my days with Fae, I would prefer to spend time with my children? You’ve not asked me what I want to do.”

  I felt defensive, cornered. “You assume I wanted to do this.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Not at first. I wanted to go back to Boca Raton and graduate with my friends. I wanted to have a normal life. All I ever wanted to do was swim—it didn’t bother me to be poor. I was the only one who didn’t want to come here, remember?”

  Her shoulders dropped slightly when she exhaled. “Okay, that’s fair. I deserve that.”

  “I admit, after the Air trial, all of it seduced me. But it’s not the power that keeps me here. This is our home. I love the Weald. When the Pembreys moved in, it hurt me. I felt like I’d betrayed everything that mattered. But I don’t want to be a Maebown.”

  My words seemed to resonate with her. “We can make a home anywhere, sweetheart—anywhere we’re all together is home.”

  “I know that, but Dad and Aunt May will always be here. Rachel and Doug are here, too. And if something happens to me, this is where I’ll be—I feel it. I know it’s true. I’m doing this because I believe, for whatever reason, that this is my destiny—it’s what I’m meant to do.”

  Mom’s eyes misted over as her will to argue seemingly disappeared. “I don’t feel that way, Piñata. I’m meant to raise and protect my children, to provide the best and safest life possible.”

  “I know, Mom. That’s exactly why I’m asking you to take my place if something happens to me. You, Mitch, and the baby are targets, regardless of where you go—and I hope you know, it’s not possible to hide from the enemy forever. With power, you can protect them and yourself better than you can now. You’ll also be able to stay here, and our friends can help.”

  “Will they? That’s a big assumption. I’m under the impression that if something happened to you, they’d be gone so fast it would make my head spin.”

  I shook my head. “Not Billy, Sara, or Wakinyan, and certainly not Gavin. They will protect you, and this is their home, too. That’s why you have to stay.”

  Mom sank back into her chair and wrapped her arms around her stomach protectively.

  “I know it’s a lot…talk to me. Please?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t recognize the world anymore. Everything I thought I knew changed the night your father died. Everything is so much scarier. I used to fear what Republicans and Democrats were doing to our country, what GMOs and global warming were doing to the environment—even terrorists kept me up at night worrying about the future you and Mitch would have—they’re all bad enough, but this, this is too much. They’re monsters without remorse or empathy. Look at what they’ve done in two months. The tsunamis, the earthquakes, the viruses—the world is crumbling around us.” She shook her head and winced. “And here I am bringing a child into the world while talking about losing another.”

  “You haven’t lost me yet,” I said.

  “Haven’t I? I read the journals—I know the history—I can see it in your face. That’s what…” She took a deep breath through quivering lips and closed her eyes. “…That’s what scares me the most.” She struggled to get the last words out.

  Heavy breathing from behind the corner caught my attention. Mitch had hidden himself in the dining room, just inside my Air barrier. Crap. “Mitch, I hear you.”

  Mom wiped her eyes and sat straight. “Mitch, were you eavesdropping?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, stepping into the open. He tried not to cry, but failed miserably.

  “We were having a private conversation,” Mom said gently but firmly.

  I joined in. “You should have told us—”

  “Oh, please,” he said, giving me a dirty look. “You’re the world’s worst at eavesdropping.”

  Mom smiled and shifted her eyes to me. “Well, she is, but that doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry you overheard.”

  “I’m not. I’m not a baby—this affects me, too. I have a right.”

  Mom considered his protest and nodded. “Yes, yes, you do. I’m sorry. You might as well come have a seat. We didn’t mean—”

  “Mom,” he said with an anguished voice, cutting her off. “I read the journals too, you know.”

  “Oh, great,” I muttered.

  Mom turned red and gave me an apologetic look.

  “No, it’s okay. I didn’t like it when the Fae were keeping secrets, and if I were you,” I said to Mitch, “I’d be angry, too.”

  “I’m not angry, Sis. I’m scared. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His green irises were ringed by pink swollen sclera, and his long chestnut eyelashes were wet and clumped.

  His words hurt my heart. I hated seeing my mother upset, but it killed me to see my brother that way. Was there anything more diabolical than violently stripping away the innocence of children? Anyone who lives long enough to achieve adulthood eventually sees the ugliness in the world. I remember the slow, brutal revelation that overtook me, but like most people, it happened gradually as my childhood fantasies proved unobtainable. For Mitch, it happened all at once, and it seemed so unfair.

  “What are we going to do if you die?” He said it. Straightforward, no punches pulled. Honesty as only a child knew it.

  “You will go on.”

  His kind face wrinkled in anguish and he heaved. “Nooooo,” he moaned.

  “Mitch, you have a gift,” I said. An adult might have been insulted by the comment—it sounded fake, even though I meant every syllable. Mitch didn’t protest or roll his eyes—he hung on every word. “You’re the most likeable, genuine person I’ve ever met. You can do, must do, some important things.”

  Fully engrossed, but confused, his eyebrows pressed together. “Like what?”

  I hadn’t given it much thought before, but a stream of consciousness took over and it felt right. “The world is going to need people who know the truth, but who can keep the Fae’s secrets—who can convince people to change their ways. The world needs real leaders.”

  “I’m only eleven.”

  I laughed and so did Mom. “Yeah, and that’s perfect. You’ve got time to learn what you need to learn to make a difference—if I’m here, I’ll help you, and if I’m not, you’ve got the Fae to help you.”

  Finally, the eye rolling started.

  “No, you need to believe you can. Look at me.”

  “I can’t do what you can do.”

  “I’m not talking about the powers. Ignore them for a minute. I’m a national champion—”

  “You’d be an Olympic champion if you tried,” he interjected.

  “Yes, yes, I would. That didn’t happen overnight. It took years of hard work.”

  “I know, I remember.”

  “I know you can work just
as hard, if you set your mind to it.”

  He smiled and wiped his nose. “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I promise, Sis. I just want you to be proud of me.”

  My eyes watered as emotion surged through my chest. “I am proud of you,” I choked. “…but you have to decide for yourself what you’re going to do, and you don’t have to do it right now.”

  “Jeez, Sis. At least give me a hint.”

  Mom ran her fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it. “You could be a scientist and make discoveries that change the world, or you could be a writer and touch the hearts and souls of millions, or—”

  “Or I could be president,” he said with a serious expression.

  “That might be a problem,” I chuckled. “You’d have to join one political party or the other, and either way, you’re going to upset a grandparent.”

  It went over Mitch’s head, but he smiled when he noticed Mom’s laugh. The serious look returned to his face. “Mom, are you going to do it?”

  She stared at him, kindness radiating from her beautiful features, and then slowly turned her big brown eyes to me. “If I understand everything correctly, if I do this, it means one of my grandchildren—if I have grandchildren—will take my place.”

  “I guess, the…gift, if we want to call it that, appears only once a generation—or at least that’s what the Fae tell me.” As soon as I said it, I wondered whether there was a legitimate reason for that, or if the Fae simply told us that to keep more humans from learning to control the elements.

  Mom’s silence dragged on for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, she said, “That isn’t a decision I can make right now. I’ll think about it.”

  * * *

  The Fae were in full lock down when we drove up the hill the next morning. None of them liked the idea of me leaving, even for just a few hours. Wakinyan convinced them it would be okay when Poseidon agreed to keep an eye on us—hidden, of course. Each of us needed a change of scenery, and we decided on Fayetteville. I followed Aunt May’s big red Continental up the hill. Mom slowed for a moment to let the gate open, and eased the big car onto the blacktop. Grandma and Grandpa rode in the front with her, while Sara, Sean, and Candace rode in the back. Mitch and Ronnie crammed themselves into my pink T-bird, the former straddling the gear shifter.