by Sean Cullen
Brendan’s stomach unclenched. When he was confident that he wouldn’t lose the dinner he’d eaten earlier, he turned his head to see Kim’s madly grinning face. “What is wrong with you? Are you crazy?”
“Lighten up, Brendan. Isn’t this amazing?”
“It might be more amazing if I hadn’t wet my pants. I almost had a heart attack, you insaniac nutcase! Couldn’t you warn me?”
“Where would the fun be in that?” Kim tipped her right wing slightly, sending them curving out and banking even higher, moving out farther over the lake. “Look! They’re closing off the island.”
Brendan looked down and saw that the surface of the lake nearest the island, usually rolling with whitecaps, was still and smooth as glass. The flat area spread slowly out toward the city beyond. He suddenly understood. “They’re freezing the lake!”
“Yeah,” Kim confirmed. “It takes a lot of Faeries to weave some pretty intense weather Wards together, but it’s the best way to isolate the Ward’s Island.”
Brendan watched as the ice continued to radiate out from the island. He peered closer. He saw tiny figures out on the ice. “Who are they?”
“Fair Folk are starting to arrive. The Gathering starts when the sun goes down tonight . or tomorrow. You know what I mean.”
Kim tipped her wings forward and they rose higher. The island became more and more indistinct below. Brendan looked around and saw other Dawn Flyers dipping and diving, their wings silvered by the moonlight. The sky was remarkably clear, especially so high up and out of the reach of the city lights. The stars twinkled with cold brilliance.
Kim hung in the air, slowly turning in a circle, like a hawk lazily floating as it waited for prey to break cover below. Brendan became keenly aware of her arms wrapped around him. Her body was pressed against his back, and he could feel every tiny adjustment she made with her shoulders and legs to keep them aloft. For the second time in the past week, he was close to a very attractive girl. Even as he savoured the sensation, he felt a weird pang of guilt. Only a few days before he had held Charlie and comforted her, and now here was Kim with her arms wrapped around him. Why did he feel guilty? He didn’t know; he just did, that’s all.
“Are you sure this thing can hold two people?” he asked.
“The Artificers guarantee them. But don’t worry, if we start to lose altitude, I’ll drop you and save myself.”
“Thanks, Kim. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
They were silent for a long time. The wind whistled an eerie tune through the flier’s rigging. He took in the stars and the moon hanging almost full in the sky. He looked over his shoulder and saw the city shining below. Brendan suddenly laughed out loud.
“What?” Kim asked.
“Nothing,” Brendan said. “It’s just … this is awesome!”
Kim laughed. “Yeah.” After a moment she said, “I wanted you to see this. I wanted you to see … ”
“What?”
“I wanted you to see that there are great things about being one of us, Brendan. It isn’t all bad. It isn’t all Proving and tests and Quests and trouble. It’s beautiful, too.”
Brendan thought about that. He looked out over the lake and the city. He was seeing it in a way he never would have if he hadn’t met Kim and learned about his Faerie family. And it was beautiful.
He realized something else, too. He hadn’t been aware of how much he’d missed Kim. He felt bad.
“I’m sorry, Kim.”
“For what?”
“I haven’t been there for you at all.”
“You have a lot to worry about. Don’t sweat it.”
“I have a lot to worry about and so do you. But more than that … ” He swallowed. “I’ve … I’ve missed you these past few days.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” she said, but her grip around his chest tightened slightly. Brendan hadn’t thought she could hold him any closer than she already was.
“Holy stars,” Kim said sharply. “Look.”
Out over the lake, there was a loud rumble followed by a clap of thunder, reminding Brendan of a fighter plane at an air show breaking the sound barrier. An explosion of bright light erupted about a mile above the lake, igniting the sky in a flash. The glow started moving across the sky like a comet, cycling through every colour in the spectrum, a hot swirl of shifting light that grew in intensity as it approached. “What is that? A plane?”
“That’s no plane,” Kim called in his ear. “That’s the Wild Hunt! Pûkh has arrived.”
“The Wild What?” Brendan cried. He was having trouble hearing Kim. He became aware of a high keening not unlike the sound of a jet engine.
“The Wild Hunt. When Pûkh travels outside the realm of Tír na nÓg, he always brings his retinue,” Kim explained. “They travel as the Ancient Faerie Lords once did. Pûkh, or Lord Pûkh as he prefers to be called, tries to keep the Old Ways alive.”
The light drew closer, descending from the sky like a comet with a rainbow tail trailing behind. As the Hunt approached, Brendan saw it was composed of many Faeries, at least fifty of them. They were attended by countless Lesser Faeries who swarmed around them in a glittering crowd.
The Faeries were dressed in clothing that Brendan thought wouldn’t have looked out of place in a fantasy movie. Cloaks and capes of brilliant hues streamed out behind them. The men wore tunics of rich brocade and beautiful patterns that changed as the light caught them. Elaborate jewellery of gold, pearls, and glittering gems dripped from their throats and wrists. They rode their mounts with casual grace that was beyond any Human’s ability to imitate.
The animals were another shock. Some of the Faeries rode horses that glowed faintly in the moonlight. Others came on powerful stags bedecked in tack and harness, their massive racks of antlers beribboned and hung with delicate silver bells. The stags put Brendan in mind of Santa’s flying reindeer, but these creatures were not benevolent and lovable. Their nostrils flared and smoked. They tossed their heads and rolled their eyes as if the beings on their backs terrified them. Brendan felt sorry for them.
At the front of the cavalcade rode a trio of Faeries. One was a woman so small that Brendan thought she was a child until he looked at her face. Her eyes were wild with a mad intensity that filled him with dread. She grinned, displaying teeth that had been filed to points, and shrieked in a wild lament that made Brendan’s hair stand on end. On a massive horse, the biggest that Brendan had ever seen, sat a freakishly tall man with long silver hair and cold blue eyes. Slung loosely under his arm was a long lance, its tip flashing in the starlight. His face was long and grim.
Between these two bizarre figures and slightly ahead rode a dark Faerie with long chestnut hair caught up in a clasp of gold and diamonds at the back of his neck. He wore a light suit of silver armour that rippled like the surface of a moonlit pool. He threw his head back as he laughed out loud. His slightly slanted eyes and cruel mouth were smiling as if he was enjoying the spectacle he was making.
“Holy cow,” Brendan shouted. “Is that … ”
“Lord Pûkh has arrived,” Kim confirmed, a sneer in her voice. “In all his pompous glory.”
Brendan could sense the disapproval in her voice. He watched as the Wild Hunt swung wide over the city, descending swiftly toward the Ward’s Island below to disappear beneath the trees.
“It’s time to get you home,” Kim said in his ear.
Brendan was about to protest when he saw that the horizon to the east was growing pale. He would have to be back before his parents awoke. He nodded to Kim and she banked away toward the city, dropping toward the lights below.
Kim landed them in the park near Brendan’s home. They swooped down over the snow and slid to a stop amid a stand of trees, managing to avoid smashing into any tree trunks. Kim removed the wings and laid them on the ground. At her direction, they piled snow over the bundle. Satisfied that the wings wouldn’t be discovered, they walked together through the park and crossed the street int
o the alley that led to Brendan’s house.
“You’re quiet,” Kim said.
“Yeah, I guess. I suppose I don’t know what to say. The Proving and the Gathering are tomorrow. Seeing the kind of people who’ll be judging me doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”
They reached the back gate. Kim grabbed him by the arm and turned him to face her.
“Brendan, I know you must be worried. Maybe even a little scared …”
“Try pants-crapping terrified.”
“But I know you can do this.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Kim smiled her lopsided smile. “I know a good heart when I see one.”
Brendan didn’t reply. Charlie had said the same thing in his dad’s music studio. Did a good heart matter in this insane world he grappled with? He hoped Kim and Charlie knew what they were talking about.
Then Kim did something totally out of character. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Brendan was so surprised that he just stood there looking at her.
She laughed. “I’ve missed your silly face. Charlie’s a lucky girl.”
Before Brendan could say a word, she turned and dashed off down the alley. He stood staring at the place where she’d melted into the night. She thought that Charlie was … what? His girlfriend? Was Kim crazy? He raised a hand and touched his cheek where she’d kissed it. Twice in one week? I must be doing something right.
“That was weird,” he said to no one at all. He opened the gate and stepped into the yard.
STAKEOUT
“Maybe he isn’t coming back tonight,” Dmitri suggested. Harold had fallen asleep an hour ago, his head nestled on Dmitri’s shoulder. A healthy gob of drool had collected on Dmitri’s jacket.
“He’ll be back. He has to be back for breakfast,” Delia said.
They had turned Dmitri’s father’s tool shed into a makeshift surveillance HQ for Operation Eye-On-Brendan, as they’d taken to calling it. For the past three nights they had met at Dmitri’s house because both of his parents were working night shifts. Only his bedridden grandmother was at home, confined to a daybed in the family room. They had free rein without any fear of parental interference.
The shed was cold despite the little space heater Harold had rigged up. Dmitri and Harold huddled together under a sleeping bag, fighting to stay awake. Harold had lost the battle. Delia had declined the offer of shared body warmth, opting to shiver on her own while sitting on a sawhorse48 draped with an old blanket that smelled vaguely of barf.
Harold and Dmitri, both adept at computers, had set up a remote webcam that was trained on the backyard of the Clair house. They’d seen Brendan and Charlie emerge from the back window three nights before and then seen Brendan return alone. The following nights, Brendan had gone out by himself. Delia wondered why. Had they had a falling out of some kind? They watched the footage again and again, unable to believe the agility of the famously clumsy Brendan as he tumbled into the snow and dashed off. After that, each night was a long, cold vigil in the shed, staring at nothing but a snowy expanse of back lawn until Brendan returned and climbed through the window. They needed more if they were going to understand what was going on. Sure, sneaking out at night would get Brendan in trouble if his parents knew. But what was he doing? They had to find out. More importantly, Delia had to find out. Three boring nights passed in freezing discomfort, but Delia refused to call it off.
“Do you want something to eat?” Dmitri asked, rummaging in a paper bag decorated with ominous grease stains.
“No!” Delia snarled. “Keep that stuff away from me.” Dmitri had provided snacks. Weird snacks, according to Delia. Cabbage rolls and perogies49 heated in the microwave. “I don’t know which is worse: the smell or the taste.”
“I guess it’s a required taste,” Dmitri shrugged, stuffing a perogy in his mouth.
“AC-quired! Not RE-quired!”
“Ac-quired then,” Dmitri said. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I prefer spending time with your brother. You are not a very pleasant person.”
Delia sneered. “Well, if he’s such a great guy, why are you two spying on him?”
“I don’t think we’re doing this for the same reason as you,” Dmitri suggested.
“What does that mean?” Delia demanded.
“Brendan is my friend and I worry about him. He’s been acting strangely. I want to make sure he’s okay. So does Harold, even if he can’t manage to stay awake. But it seems to me that you hate Brendan a little bit.”
“Oh, really.” Delia rolled her eyes. “And why would I hate him, Sigmund Freud?”
“You tell me,” Dmitri said sweetly. “He’s your brother.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe not,” Dmitri conceded. He picked out another perogy and nibbled it in silence. For a moment, they didn’t speak. There was nothing but the soft snoring of Harold in the dim shed. Dmitri wondered if Delia might have dozed off. But then he saw the light of the laptop screen reflected in her open eyes.
“Nobody understands what it’s like,” Delia said softly in the darkness. “Everybody loves him. He can do no wrong. He’s sneaking around and doing who knows what, but my parents think he’s just the best thing ever. And he isn’t even their real child.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry at him,” Dmitri ventured. “It isn’t his fault he was adopted. It just happened. He would change it if he could.”
“What do you know about it? You don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
“I did have a brother,” Dmitri said softly. “He died.”
Delia fell silent.
“I don’t remember him very well. He was older than me. He had a cancer of the blood.”
“Leukemia.”
“Is that the English word? As I was saying, I was very young and I barely remember him. I remember playing soccer in the street with him once. His name was Albin.”
“Well,” Delia said in the awkward silence. “That’s too bad.”
“Uh-huh. I wish I had a brother still. I think you’re lucky to have Brendan. Even if he’s not your real brother,” Dmitri said pointedly and lapsed into silence.
Delia didn’t respond. She sat in the darkness, glaring at the screen and trying to ignore what Dmitri had said. Maybe she was being insane. Brendan was an annoying freak, but he was her brother. Maybe she should be worried about him instead of suspicious. Still, she couldn’t forget how she’d lost that day. She knew he had something to do with it. And Charlie was a part of it, too. When she saw the two of them climbing down from the window on the webcam, her suspicions were confirmed. Even if her parents were fooled, Delia wasn’t.
She gritted her teeth with new resolve. She wouldn’t let Dmitri’s sentimental opinion distract her from her path. She’d get to the bottom of this. If she and Dmitri had different reasons for doing this, so be it.
She glared into the greenish glow of the laptop as if willing Brendan to appear. She just had to keep her focus despite the fatigue that was beginning to set in. She couldn’t count on the two boys. Harold was already out for the count. That left her and the little kid, Dmitri. She would have to make sure she didn’t succumb to the heaviness that was pulling at her eyelids. She had to stay sharp … Had to …
Delia’s head snapped up. She was still sitting on the sawhorse, but now she was wrapped in a scratchy woollen blanket.
Harold and Dmitri were eating steaming bowls of oatmeal in chipped white bowls. They smiled at her.
“Why did you let me sleep?”
“You were tired,” Dmitri explained. “We’ve been watching, don’t worry.”
Delia shrugged off the blanket fiercely. “What time is it?”
“Six-thirty,” Harold said. “It’s gonna be dawn in an hour or so. He’s gotta be back soon.”
“Thanks, Sherlock,” Delia snarled.
“Geez.” Harold whistled. “You really are a total … ”
“He’s bac
k!” Dmitri sat bolt upright. He pointed at the screen.
Delia shouldered her way between the two boys. There on the screen was Brendan, closing the backyard gate. The picture was too grainy to see his face, but it was undoubtedly him. His coat was open despite the cold. He walked across the yard.
“He’s alone,” Harold pointed out. “Again.”
“Yeah,” Dmitri agreed. “Where has he been all night?”
“What’s that?” Delia asked.
A small mote of light darted into the picture. It moved like a bumblebee or a hummingbird but it was larger. Again, the picture wasn’t clear enough for details. Brendan stopped and appeared to be speaking to the speck of light. Suddenly, it raced at the camera and, for an instant, filled the lens. Then the screen dissolved into electronic snow.
“What the heck was that?” Delia demanded. Her heart leapt. This could be the break they were looking for.
“Hold on!” Harold tapped the keyboard and the video began to scroll backwards. He stopped when the screen was full of the glaring white thing only inches from the camera. He made a few more taps and the image dimmed and became more defined. Though it was still fuzzy and burned out, the thing on the screen was clearly a tiny human figure. It was obviously female. She wore a tightly laced old-fashioned vest and red trousers. Her little face was frozen in a snarl and her fists were clenched in fury. A smear of colour at her back indicated wings that were moving too fast for the camera to capture.
“What is that?” Delia gasped.
“Hold on!” Harold cried. He dug into his backpack and produced a leather portfolio crammed with papers. He flipped through a few sheets of scribbles and finally said, “Aha!” He laid the picture on the keys of the laptop and pointed to a drawing. “That’s her! I drew her! I knew these pictures were of real people and things. I knew it!”