The Prince of Two Tribes mp-2

by Sean Cullen

  “Can’t I just wait until the next Clan Gathering?” Brendan asked hopefully. “By then, I’m sure I’ll have everything under control. I’ll totally kick ass in the tests.”

  “Sadly, that’s not an option. The Council would not bend on their ruling. The Proving will take place at the coming Gathering. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

  “We hope,” Kim said softly.

  Brendan felt his stomach sink. “Thanks for that. You really know how to make me feel good.”

  Kim winced. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about… ”

  Suddenly, the tabletop jumped as something struck it from below. The cups rattled with another impact.

  “What the… ” Brendan began.

  A streak of light shot out from under the table. BLT corkscrewed into the air like a miniature stunt plane, smashing into a hanging plant and setting it swinging wildly.

  “BLT, stop that!” Brendan cried. “Have you been eating sugar?”

  “Found a couple of chocolate chips under the TAAAA-BLE!” BLT shrieked happily as she dive-bombed table after table.

  “That’s all I need,” Brendan groaned.

  ^ 23 One good thing about being a Faerie was that Brendan could alter his Human guise. It was better than Clearasil!

  ^ 24 Please, unless you are a Faerie, do not yell at trees. One: people will think you are odd. Two: they are very hard of hearing. You’ll end up with a sore throat. Three: if you do manage to get their attention, they’ll talk endlessly about itchy bark and acorn fungus. Bo-ring.

  ^ 25 In Book One, Brendan had a strange experience with a large black rock that graced the front lawn of Lord Lansdowne School. He swore he could hear the rock snoring, hence his name for it, the Snoring Rock. I hope you are reading these footnotes as there may be a quiz later.

  ^ 26 A state of being neglected or simply left awaiting some kind of decision. Not a dance involving a bamboo stick and a bongo drum (although limbo dancing can be agonizing).

  HOME LIFE

  By the time Brendan took the streetcar along College and arrived back home, it was already past three. He’d had to wait while BLT came down off her sugar high and passed out. She’d slept in his jacket pocket all the way home. He trudged up the steps and reached for the door handle.

  “So, this is where you live?”

  “Whhaa?” Brendan leapt like a scalded cat.

  Charles was sitting in a wicker chair on the front porch. Brendan’s father hadn’t gotten around to taking the chairs down to the basement for the winter. She was curled up, her legs tucked under her, watching him. Her big violet eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.

  “It’s a cute little house,” Charlie said. “I like it.”

  “What are you doing here?” Brendan demanded. “This is my family’s house. It’s off limits.”

  “I just wanted to talk to you again. See if you’d changed your mind about being such a stick in the mud.”

  “Well, I haven’t. So buzz off.”

  “You are a very rude boy.”

  For some reason, being called a boy was extremely irritating. He glared at her, summoning his will, and said, slowly and clearly, “Leave me alone.”

  She stiffened. Moving jerkily like a broken puppet or a faulty robot, she stood, tottered across the porch, and stumped down the steps.

  Brendan sighed with relief. He’d done it! He’d Compelled her!

  No sooner had he thought that than she laughed and did a little jig at the bottom of the steps. “Nice try! You’ve got some power, I’ll admit that.” She smiled and curtseyed prettily, holding out the edges of an invisible dress. “I’ll go, then. But I’m not giving up. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” With a little wave and a wink, she headed off up Montrose Avenue.

  Brendan grunted, annoyed and disappointed. He had to admit that he was a little glad his Compulsion hadn’t worked. He didn’t like having that kind of control over other people. After what he’d unwittingly done to Chester… He shuddered at the memory. He pushed the thought from his mind and entered the warmth of the house.

  “Brendan? Is that you?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen. She stuck her head around the door. “Where have you been? Dmitri and Harold waited for you for an hour.”

  Brendan’s stomach sank. “Oh no! I forgot.” He’d invited his friends over to work on their social studies presentation. It had completely slipped his mind. There’s another reason for your friends to hate you. Shaking his head, he kicked his shoes off and hung his jacket on a hook. He’d have to call them and apologize.

  “Do you want a snack or something?” his mother asked.

  “Not really,” Brendan answered, entering the kitchen. His senses were flooded with the rich scent of fresh bread. His mother was baking, as she did every Saturday afternoon. He ruefully remembered using her baking as a bribe to get the guys to come over. What an idiot.

  Brendan loved her bread, so she made sure she baked plenty to last through the week. She also made muffins and cookies for Delia’s and Brendan’s lunches. She loved to bake: it was her way of unwinding after the week at the office. She was a promotions and events manager at an advertising firm. She was always rushed and under pressure. “Baking takes time. You’re forced to move slowly and carefully. I need that in my life,” she often explained as she churned batter or greased a pan.

  She held out a plate laden with chocolate chip cookies. “You sure?”

  Brendan couldn’t resist. “I guess I could have one.” He plucked a cookie off the plate. It was warm in his fingers, the chocolate melting onto his fingertips. He took a bite and grinned. “Me likey!”

  “Me happy!” his mother answered. They had gone through the ritual since he was a child. She put the plate down on the counter and opened the oven door a crack to check on her bread. Brendan leaned against the counter and savoured his cookie.

  “Everything all right?” his mother asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t often forget things.”

  “Well, I’ve been a little busy lately.”

  “Busy with what, exactly?” His mother closed the oven door and fixed him with an inquisitive look.

  “Uh… lots of stuff. School. Stuff. You know.” He couldn’t very well tell his mother he’d been undergoing a rigorous training program in the Faerie Arts.

  His mother raised an eyebrow. “Stuff. Does some of this stuff have to do with a girl?”

  Brendan froze with the cookie halfway to his mouth. How had his mother known about the girl following him around? Had she seen her on the porch?

  “What?” Brendan bleated.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday.” She laughed. “You’re a normal teenage boy. It has to happen sooner or later.”

  He relaxed. She didn’t know about Charlie. She thought he had a girlfriend! Oh, how wrong you are, Mum.

  Out loud, he said, “Mum! No. Come on.”

  “I was your age too, you know, many, many long years ago. I know how things are.”

  “Mu-um… ” Brendan began to protest his innocence, but then a thought occurred to him. If his mum thought he had a girlfriend she might not be suspicious, and that would give him a little breathing room. He didn’t have to deny anything, but he didn’t have to confirm it, either. The truth was, though a few months ago he’d thought he was in with his dream girl, Marina Kaprillian, nothing had happened. Kim had put her foot down and demanded that he leave Marina alone. Brendan had reluctantly complied. He really didn’t have the time for romance right now, anyway.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Brendan.” His mother ruffled his hair and laughed. “It’s a natural thing. You’re only human.”

  Not really, Brendan thought ruefully.

  “All I want is for you to be careful. Girls grow up faster than boys in a lot of ways. You have to be sure you don’t get in over your head.”

  You have no idea how far over my head I am already, Mum. Not for the first time, Brendan wished he could bring his mo
ther into his confidence. The Faeries had strict rules about giving information about the Faerie world to Humans. Finbar had paid dearly for sharing his secret with his wife. Brendan was tempted to tell his mother anyway. He needed advice. She wouldn’t believe him at first, but he’d convince her and then she’d probably freak out. But, in the end, she would try to help, he was sure. Even if she wasn’t his flesh and blood, she was his mother in every other way. And he felt as though he were betraying her somehow by keeping his troubles from her.

  “Whoa.” His mum laughed as he enveloped her in an impulsive hug. “What was that for?”

  “Do I need an excuse to love my mum?”

  “Barf!” Delia’s voice was filled with loathing. “Barf and barf!”

  Brendan released his mother from the embrace to find his sister standing in the kitchen doorway. “Hey, Delia. Not very nice to see you, I must say.”

  “Ditto, Nerd.” She sneered and picked a cookie off the plate. “Your nerd friends were here polluting the air all afternoon.”

  “Plate, Delia. Plate!” Mum scolded. In response, Delia rolled her eyes and stuffed the entire cookie into her mouth.

  “I’m gonna go up and call the guys,” Brendan announced. His mother turned back to check the oven. Delia stuck out her tongue, covered in half-chewed cookie. “Nice, Dee. Really nice.” He pushed past Delia into the hallway and grabbed his jacket from the hook. He started up the stairs with Delia at his heels.

  “Where’ve you been, Brendan?” Delia demanded. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing’s going on. I was just out.”

  “Your friends didn’t know where you were,” Delia insisted. “You’ve been disappearing a lot lately. What are you up to?”

  They reached the second floor. Brendan faced her. “What’s it to you, super-pest? I don’t have to tell you where I’m going. What are you, the CIA?”

  “Worse.” Delia smiled sweetly. “I’m your sister.^ 27 At least according to the law.” Delia was always pointing out that they weren’t really related. She seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in reminding Brendan that he was adopted. “You can’t put anything past me. I’m all over you like a bad smell.”

  “I agree with the bad smell part.”

  “Ha-ha!” Delia leaned into him, jabbing a finger in his ribs. “If you’re hiding something, I’m gonna find out. You can’t escape me, Brendan. I’ve got my eye on you.” She pointed at her eyes with two fingers and then stabbed the same fingers at Brendan. “Believe it!”

  Threat delivered, she spun on her heel and marched into her room. Brendan caught a glimpse of the clothing strewn lair that was Delia’s sacred inner sanctum before she slammed the door. Filled with apprehension, he stared at the closed door. Delia was tenacious. If anyone could expose his secret, he’d bet on her. He would just have to be very careful around her. Very careful indeed.

  I suppose I could have her killed, he said to himself. He shook his head. I pity any assassin sent after my sister. Laughing softly, he climbed the ladder-cum-staircase to his attic room.

  Brendan’s room had become the one place in his world where he could completely relax. He flopped down on the bed, tossing his jacket onto the floor. He was exhausted. Greenleaf had pushed him hard today. Brendan knew Greenleaf was concerned about his lack of progress. But every time Brendan tried to exercise his abilities, he found himself unable to focus on the task at hand. No matter how he tried, the results were mediocre at best. A headache threatened at the back of his skull.

  “Oi! Oi!” BLT’s muffled but indignant voice rose from the floor. “Get offa me! I’m suffocatin’!”

  Brendan swung his feet to the floor. His jacket was practically hopping around the floorboards as BLT battled to escape from the pocket. He grabbed the garment and opened the flap for her. Instantly, she rocketed out of her cloth prison and smacked into the bedside lamp. The fixture toppled. The old Brendan would never have caught the lamp before it shattered on the floor. Without thinking, the Warp Warrior speed flared in his nerves and he snatched it from mid-air and placed it back on the nightstand.

  “What’s the big idea?” BLT demanded, lighting on the lampshade and shaking her fist at Brendan. “You tryin’ ta kill me?”

  “Quiet!” Brendan hissed. “Someone will hear you. My sister is suspicious enough as it is.”

  BLT stuck out her tongue at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was tangled. She began to massage her temples. “My head is killing me.”

  “Serves you right,” Brendan said, lying back down. “I told you, no sugar.”

  “What a downer you are.” BLT flitted down and stood on Brendan’s chest with her arms crossed. “You oughta lighten up.”

  “How am I supposed to lighten up? I’ve got to learn how to use my powers.”

  “You know how to use your powers!” BLT marched up his chest and placed a tiny booted foot on Brendan’s chin. “When you ain’t thinkin’ too much, you just do it naturally.” She slapped his nose. “Stop thinkin’!”

  “Ow!” Despite her size, BLT packed a wallop. “Quit hitting me!”

  “Who are you talking to?” Delia’s voice sounded from the bottom of the stairs. “Who’s up there with you?”

  Brendan scrambled to his feet in a panic. “Nobody!” He heard Delia mounting the stairs.

  “There’s someone up there with you! I heard you talking to someone.”

  In a split second, Brendan scooped up a squirming BLT and stuffed her into the drawer of his bedside table. “Be quiet,” he hissed at the little Faerie before slamming the drawer shut. He turned just as his sister’s head rose up above the floor.

  “Who’s up here?” She glared around the small room.

  “I’m up here, idiot. Who do you think?” Brendan tried to look innocent. He prayed that BLT had the sense to keep her mouth shut.

  Delia narrowed her eyes, studying his face. “You’re lying! I heard you talking to someone just now.”

  “I was doing some homework… for Drama Club. Rehearsing lines.”

  “Since when are you in Drama Club?”

  “Since when is it any of your business?”

  “Since you started acting all weird.”

  “I’m not acting weird. I’m acting. Now get out of my room.”

  “I know you’re up to something. And I know I heard you talking to someone.”

  “Get out! You aren’t allowed up here. Get lost!”

  “Make me!”

  Brendan was about to do just that. He made it two steps across the floor when the nightstand rattled loudly. Brendan froze. The table rattled again, practically leaping off the floor.

  Delia stared in shock. “What was THAT?”

  “What?” Brendan asked innocently.

  “The nightstand moved.”

  “I didn’t see anything.”

  With a bang, the drawer shot out of the stand and hit the opposite wall. In a shower of sparks, BLT came whizzing out of the drawer and buzzed around the room like a miniature comet.

  “Oh no!” Brendan groaned.

  Delia shrieked as BLT swooped toward her face. Throwing up her hands for protection, she lost her balance and fell backwards down the staircase. A loud thud told Brendan she had landed on the floor in the hallway below. He rushed to the opening and looked down to see his sister lying flat on her back on the carpet, her eyes wide with surprise and her mouth a round little o.

  “Are you all right?”

  Delia blinked up at him once. Twice. Then, she began to shriek and point at Brendan. “It’s on your SHOULDER! WHAT IS IT? A BUG!”

  Brendan turned his head to see BLT squatting on his shoulder, a half-eaten M amp;M in her sticky hands and a mad grin on her face. Her eyes were glossy as marbles.

  “Look what I found in the drawer!” She took another bite of the candy and zipped off to resume her circuitous transit of Brendan’s bedroom. Delia shrieked and leapt to her feet. “MUM! MUM!” She ran off down the stairs. “There’s some kind of KILLER BUG in Brendan
’s room!”

  Brendan felt a wave of relief. Delia couldn’t see BLT’s true appearance.^ 28 He’d have far less trouble explaining a big bug than explaining a Faerie. He shook his head and descended the staircase to help calm his now-hysterical sister.

  He smoothed things over with Delia, convincing her he’d driven the wasp out of the open window of his room. In a sense, he was telling the truth. He’d shooed BLT out his window and told her to stay away for the rest of the night. She could stand the cold. She just didn’t like it. On nights when she was banished from the house, she’d fly off to meet up with other Lesser Faeries in the park or go hunting for sweets. She always managed to take care of herself.

  He went downstairs to find that his father had arrived home from work at the cafe and it was time for dinner. He suddenly realized he was absolutely starving. Time flew by as he sat with his family and listened to his father regale them all with his impressions of the customers he’d served that day. Even Delia seemed to relax and forget her scare, laughing in spite of her protestations that her father was the least funny man in the world and that his stories were the dumbest in the world.

  When he was with his family, he could almost forget about the weirdness of the Faerie world and his place in it. He could forget about the Art, Gatherings of Clans, and Proving Challenges. Here, at the kitchen table, eating meatloaf with his mother and father and even his annoying sister, he belonged. He was home.

  Weary but content after a couple more cookies, Brendan trudged up to his room with no thought in his mind but sleep. He peeled off his clothes, donned his T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, and lay down on the bed. He was almost asleep when he remembered he still hadn’t called Harold and Dmitri to apologize. He reached for his Faerie phone. His fingers rested on the smooth grain of the wood for a moment before he pulled his hand away. He decided he was too tired to face explaining his screw-up to his friends. He lay back and was asleep in minutes.