Tracks

The alarm on my cell phone woke me the next morning, a loud rock instrumental breaking through the sleep on my brain. I’d set it as a last resort the night before, thinking I’d wake up hours before noon and never actually need it. Somehow, though, I’d slept through ten and eleven before the song ripped through me promptly at eleven thirty.

I swore and leapt out of bed, throwing on the first shirt and pair of jeans I found, and made a beeline for the door. It wasn’t until I was out in the driveway with the door to the rental car open that I realized I’d thrown on one of my brother’s old shirts.

I paused, one leg into the car. It was his old Lil’ Wayne shirt, the one I’d bought him at a concert a couple years back. I’d taken it from his room a split second before leaving for the airport, hiding it so Ma and Dad wouldn’t try to take it away. I’d forgotten I’d brought it.

Now though, as I started the engine and backed—carefully—out of the driveway, I couldn’t help but think how fitting it was to be wearing it today. To the meeting with Tracks’ friend who might fill in the final blanks about my family that I was missing.

I took a deep breath as I headed for the dirt road that would take me to Galway. Wish me luck, bro.

It was weird driving on the wrong side of the road on the wrong side of a car in a country I barely knew. I kept swerving into the wrong lane, doing double take after double take to make sure I wasn’t screwing up. If the wheel had been on the other side of the car, it might’ve been easier; then at least I’d have a frame of reference. But having both road and wheel opposite made me long for Tracks’ form of transportation instead.

I parked across the street from The Green Giant and made my way over, glancing around in curiosity as I went. I hadn’t gotten a good look when I’d first gone through Galway; it had been too dark and I’d been too tired from the flight. Then when we’d brought Lincoln to the hospital, sightseeing had been the last thing on my mind. Now, it was kind of exciting to see what was beyond Calaway. It was nice to know that there was life beyond the cobblestones.

Galway was filled with people. That was the first thing I noticed. Just in this one area, I must’ve seen at least a hundred walking past. Coming in and out of pubs and shops; driving by on their way home or to work. Sitting on benches, outside cafes and bakeries. Compared to Calaway, it was insane the amount of people I saw. The whole village could’ve fit into this one portion of Galway easily.

“Leslie!”

I turned and found Tracks coming up behind me, obviously having just walked out of The Green Giant. I looked past him at the pub, a quaint wooden structure designed like a small two-story house with a big, green ogre sign swinging in the breeze. I couldn’t help but smirk. It was too whimsical for words.

“Hey.” I smiled as he stopped in front of me. “Sorry I’m late. I almost overslept.”

Tracks lifted a brow. “Everything all right?”

“More or less.”

“You like to talk about it? We’ve got some time before noon.”

I nodded to the pub. “Is he in there?”

Tracks nodded.

“Then we can talk about it later. Right now, I just want this mystery solved.” I started past him, heading for the door, when his hand closed around my arm and he turned me back to face him. His mouth was set with concern.

“Love,” he said softly. “What is it? What’s happened?”

I sighed inwardly. Apparently all my whining and complaining and crying had made him more concerned for me than I’d realized. No wonder he’d been so panicked last night on the phone. I glanced around, then took his hand and pulled him off to the side of the road, away from any listening ears.

“I’m fine,” I told him again. “Really. Leila and I had a…a little chat last night and it ended weirdly.”

“What do you mean?”

“She broke down, Tracks. She started crying.” I leaned back against the building behind me. “She said she didn’t want me involved because she was afraid I’d get killed like her dad,” I explained. “And I told her that I understood, but I couldn’t stop. So we agreed—she won’t help me, but I won’t stop searching. Then…she left.”

I sighed again. “I mean, I guess it’s good that we finally had all that out. I didn’t realize how much Uncle Thomas had been involved or that he’d died in this war. But it doesn’t change anything. I still need to know.”

Tracks tilted his head to the side and looked at me carefully. “And towards her? Does it change how you feel towards Leila?”

I almost laughed at how much like a shrink he sounded but then again, he was the one I went to for shrink-like advice. I shrugged again. “It might’ve,” I admitted. “If she hadn’t told me she’d left Lincoln in the house hoping to play off our friendship.”

His brows knit together. “Sorry?”

Quickly, I told him about Leila’s and Lincoln’s plan; how they used our friendship to try to fool me into walking away.

“If she hadn’t done that, I might feel differently now. I might feel a bit guiltier for pushing so hard. But I can’t deal with being tricked, Tracks. Whether it failed or not, that’s just low. I don’t play games.”

“She was trying to look out for you,” he said quietly.

“And I’m tired of hearing about it,” I told him. “All I’ve ever asked from anyone here is for the truth. Protecting someone doesn’t have to involve lying. That’s the coward’s way of doing things.”

He smiled a little. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“You’ve got a couple get-out-of-jail-free cards.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “God, I wish she hadn’t said it,” I told him at last. “Lincoln was the only one from that group I could’ve considered a friend. I wish she hadn’t admitted what they’d done. I wish she’d just kept it to herself.”

Tracks shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

I gazed at him a moment, then heaved a sigh. “No, damn it. I don’t.”

“Are you certain you want to do this, love?” he asked after a beat, nodding back in the direction of the pub. “We can walk away now; you can listen to Leila or try to convince her to tell you about the magic. He’ll understand,” he added, in reference to his friend.

But I shook my head. “I might be more understanding toward her actions, sympathetic even, but she’s made her decision. And I’ve made mine.”

“No one can ever doubt your determination, love.” Tracks straightened and held out his hand. “Okay, then. Let’s go in.”

It felt good to have gotten my conversation with Leila off my chest. I’d spent an hour or so the night before running through it in my mind, but that never made me feel better. Talking to Tracks did. I hadn’t realized how much it’d been bothering me until now, when I felt like a load had been taken off my chest.

The Green Giant was quieter than I’d expected. It was noon, so I assumed the lunch crowd just hadn’t arrived yet. Despite that, I took an instant liking to the atmosphere—the dark wood made the room feel smaller than it was, shrouded in shadows, adding an intimacy to the environment. It felt like the kind of place where a guy could kick back and relax, while surrounded my friends met and kept only within the confines of the pub.

The bar was the central feature, an island of its own, so the bartender could move around and mingle with the customers at will. Accented in gold, it matched the booths that lined the walls and the tables that were strategically placed to create a dance floor at the base of the small stage on the far right. It was the perfect blend of dance club and restaurant. And somehow, it was still quaint.

Tracks waved to the bartender, giving off the vibe that he came here relatively often, then lead me to a table at the center of the room. The location caught me off guard. I’d expected us to be hiding away in the back corner where the cobwebs hid from the owner to protect our topic of conversation.

Tracks came to a stop in front of a round table where a man was already nursing a Guinness and released my hand. At once, the man rose to his feet.

He was older than Tracks, I noticed at once. At least a generation older in the face. Early to late forties, probably. With a wave of dark hair and nearly black eyes, I was a little bit nervous—he reminded me of the king in the tapestry from the castle. But then he smiled, the corners of those black eyes crinkling in delight, and I relaxed. A lot.

“Leslie, this is Caleb. Uncle Caleb, Leslie Lucas.”

“Uncle?” I repeated, my hand clasped in the man’s.

“Of sorts,” Caleb teased kindly. He gestured to one of the empty chairs. “Please, sit. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Leslie. How are you enjoying Ireland so far?”

He was English, just like Tracks. Just like all the Wings I’d met so far, actually. So if he was an uncle of sorts, he was apparently one who was willing to travel for his nephew.

I glanced up at Tracks, waiting for him to sit, but he was busy gesturing to the bartender to bring around drinks. I turned my attention back to Caleb when Tracks finally joined me.

“It’s okay,” I told Caleb honestly. “Not as awesome as America, but I’m still standing so...”

Caleb chuckled. “You are indeed. I’ve a liking for it, though. I feel it’s a lot more peaceful than your America at times.”

I lifted a brow. “You’ve been?”

“Often. For business, you see.”

I nodded. He sounded like a businessman, as much as he looked dressed the part. Like Tracks, he wore a suit, though Caleb completed the outfit with a jacket, cuff links, and a perfectly set tie. Tracks, like always, was the laid back version of a teenager at prom.

Actually, Caleb was probably the last person I’d expected at our meeting today. I’d thought Tracks’ friend would either be a young guy, somewhere around our age—his best friend maybe—or a really old Gandalf figure who was so knowledgeable about Faeries, he was actually old with wisdom.

A man in his middle years who considered himself a relative was not at all what I’d anticipated. Especially since I’d never taken the time to wonder about Tracks’ family.

“Everything all right, Leslie?” Caleb wondered, as the bartender came over and set two Guinnesses down, one in front of Tracks and myself.

Tracks looked over curiously.

I shrugged and decided to be blunt, explaining about my best friend/Gandalf expectation.

Both of them laughed, Caleb’s fuller and louder than Tracks’. I couldn’t help smiling along with him. He was just so…jolly. I kinda loved it.

“Well, I hope you’re not too disappointed Gandalf isn’t here,” Caleb played along. “He’s a rugby mate of mine, though; I’m sure I could convince him to stop by later.”

I grinned and clapped my hands together. “Really? Could you?”

Caleb glanced at Tracks. “I like her.”

Tracks took a sip of his beer. “Then let’s make sure we give her a hand.”

Caleb nodded, sobering at once. “Yes, of course. Leslie, my nephew says you’ve questions you’d like answered?”

And the fun was over. I had to admit, I was a little bummed. But Caleb was right. Time to get down to business.

I scooted my chair closer and leaned my elbows on the table. “How much has Tracks mentioned to you?”

Caleb’s lips twitched. “Tracks?”

I rolled my eyes. Whoops. “This guy.” And I jerked my thumb at his nephew.

Caleb lifted a brow and Tracks just shrugged. “Not much. He’s kept you quite to himself, Leslie. When he came to me yesterday and asked me to meet you, he’d only tell me enough to convince me to agree. He’s…very tight-lipped when it comes to you.”

Surprised, I looked over at the guy in question. He shrugged again, picking up his beer. “I wasn’t sure how much you told me was public knowledge.”

I smiled a little. Trust. It felt like every time I saw him, he gained a little bit more of mine.

“You can tell him what you like, Tracks,” I said softly then turned back to Caleb. “But for now, I don’t feel like getting into it all. Basically, the short version is this: apparently, I came from a Faery family and no one in my life decided it was worth mentioning. My brother came here last year to learn about the Faery heritage and, even though we were best friends, never filled me in, because my folks asked him not to. My cousin won’t do anything more than confirm what I already know, the extent of which is that Faeries exist, my brother was one, and there’s a fucking war going on between the Wings and Elementals.”

Caleb’s brows rose, that small gesture breaking into my rant and stopping me short. He looked at his nephew at once. Obviously, he hadn’t expected I knew nearly as much as I did; whatever questions he’d thought I was going to ask, he probably assumed they were beginning stage questions. Like what are Faeries?

Tracks took another swig of his Guinness then set it down in front of him. “She knows more than they want her to, Uncle,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Her cousin and Fitz, I mean. Callaghan wants her out of this war and Fitz only wants her in long enough to get rid of her. I’ve already had to stop him once,” he admitted, causing his uncle’s forehead to crease with concern. “Leslie’s been in this practically since the day she arrived; she’s been on a hunt for the truth since the day after.” Tracks shrugged. “She’s come this far; she just needs to know the rest.”

Caleb was silent for a long time. He seemed to be weighing his options. A complete stranger was coming to him for advice on a war no one wanted her involved with. Of course he had to be careful.

“Why are you so interested, Leslie? It seems your cousin has the right idea.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care,” I said bluntly. “Right idea or not, I’m not gonna sit on the sidelines when I know my brother was in this. Tracks can give you the long version later, but Aaron was my best friend and meant more to me than anyone else in the world. If he was fighting, then I should be too. For him.”

His lips twitched again. “Headstrong, aren’t you?”

“More than likely just stubborn.”

“All right, then. What is your question, my dear?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Caleb just went up a dozen notches on my awesome chart.

“Ma told me that only the firstborn of every Faery family has elemental magic. The remaining siblings merely carry the blood. But that doesn’t make sense. Faeryland was an entire world, not a small corporation. It couldn’t have survived if only one child from each family was magical. Every kid had to have a power or else it would crumble.”

I scooted a little closer. “I found a Bible in the queen’s library.”

He lifted a brow again.

“It listed all the names of the people born in a two hundred year period,” I went on. “They all had powers.”

“And your question, Leslie?”

I took a deep breath. “I know she lied. Ma’s final attempt to keep me out of this war was telling me that only Aaron had the magic; only Uncle Thomas did. But I know she has it and I know I should have it too. So why don’t I?”

"And,” Tracks chimed in before his uncle could answer, “if she does, why can’t she find Faeryland on her own?”

Caleb stared at me. “You can’t?”

I shook my head. “Tracks has been my ride every time I’ve been there.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “That’s…unusual. Faeryland should be innate for you, Leslie. If you truly are of Faery blood.”

“She is.” Tracks nodded firmly. “I’m sure of it.”

“Tracks said the power tends to manifest at a young age,” I chimed in. “But I don’t have any memory of anything weird ever happening to me growing up. And apparently, Ma hid Aaron’s power from me since it first appeared when he was three.”

Caleb leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, Leslie, as a person, how rooted in faith are you?”

I blinked. “What?”

Tracks answered the question before Caleb could clarify. “Not very. Leslie’s not been a big fan of make-believe.” He shot me a wink.

I nodded. “Ma used to tell me and my brother Faery tales growing up. I stopped believing when I hit elementary school.”

“Perhaps that is your answer then,” Caleb said easily. “You chose not to believe, so you were never given the choice. People don’t remember much when they’re very, very little. You undoubtedly have no memories you can recall from when you were three or even four. Perhaps your power did appear as it was meant to, but you neglected it. You ignored it. It’s impossible for Faery magic to leave its host—to disappear forever. But it is possible for it to hide from its host, if the host wishes it gone.”

I pulled back, realizing his answer had gone where I hadn’t expected. “Wait, so you think I do have an element?”

Caleb looked at me sideways. “You’ve already made it clear that every Faery child must. Why would you think you were excluded?”

“I… My dad’s human. I just thought—”

But he was already shaking his head. “It doesn’t work like that, Leslie. Faery magic is natural; it comes as much from Faeryland as from the earth. That’s not something that can be nudged aside.”

I looked at Tracks, searching for reassurance. He covered my hand again.

“So…what?” I said to Caleb. “You think it’s always been in me? That I ignored the magic so long that now it’s ignoring me?”

Caleb nodded. “Magic is natural, Leslie, but like everything else, it needs to be cultivated. Practiced and perfected. The same when learning a skill. A child might learn to play violin at age eight, but if she doesn’t pick it up for eighty years, she’ll forget and have to start from scratch.”

I swallowed slowly. “So how do I find out what my power is then? Or why it’s not helping me find Faeryland?”

“Well, Faeryland might be the same concept, love.”

I turned to Tracks.

“Since you ignored the magic—and until recently, still have—you’ve got a mental block against it. And it’s blocking you from Faeryland as well. Remember what your mum said,” he reminded me gently. “Faeryland is the root of all Faery magic.”

I took a deep breath. “There’s no way around this, is there?” I asked softly, looking between uncle and nephew. “I do have some sort of power, whether I want it or not.”

“If you’ve truly got the blood, then yes, my dear, you do.”

I sat back in my seat, my hand sliding from Tracks’. It was one thing to believe I was a human in an inhuman situation; to think I was mortal and know, in the back of my brain, that when I left Ireland in a few months, I wouldn’t have to bring any of it with me. It was another to realize how completely stupid I’d been. Of course I had magic. Three hundred years and not a single exception. I was a fool to have hoped I was the exception.

I was definitely part of the Faery world, I realized grimly. Whatever choice I could’ve made when the war was over had just died a quiet death. The world I’d grown up in and the world I’d stepped into had just become the same thing. My stomach clenched.

I looked up when I felt Tracks’ hand cover mine again. “Leslie?”

For a split second, as the sunlight flickered briefly through the window beside us, through his sunglasses, I saw his eyes. I wasn’t sure why, but they made me smile, made me feel a little bit better.

I squeezed his hand tightly then turned my attention back to his uncle. “What’s my power?” I wanted to know.

Caleb paused when the bartender returned to replace Tracks’ Guinness, smiled at the man, then picked up again once he was gone. “What was your brother’s?” he wondered first.

“Ma said he could bend the elements.” Inside, I felt a shiver run through me at the thought. It was still mind-boggling to think about. “She said he could control water, ice, earth and air.”

Abruptly, he straightened in his chair and leaned forward. “He was a Singer, then?”

My brows knit together. “Yes…” I drew out the word. I wasn’t sure what Aaron’s singing ability had to do with anything. “How did you—”

"Oh…” Tracks stopped, the beer halfway to his lips. Behind his shades, I was sure he was going bug-eyed. He set his beer down, something he hadn’t done since we’d arrived. “Of course,” he murmured. “I completely—”

“Can one of you please explain what you’re not saying?” I chimed in, holding up my hands to get their attention.

“Not a singer as in a musician,” Tracks explained, his voice somewhat dazed. “Singer as in a Singer—a Faery Singer.”

“One who uses song to manipulate the four main elements,” Caleb finished, with a solemn nod.

I stared at them. “Song,” I repeated. “As in music? Any kind of music?”

Caleb nodded. “Either words or a flute, violin, fiddle, piano—”

“Guitar?”

He nodded once again.

I closed my eyes and let my head fall on my arms. “Oh, God…” I murmured.

So that had been why Aaron had been fascinated by music at a young age. That had been why he’d spent his entire childhood playing one song or another, writing lyrics, playing gigs. Why he’d never wanted to form a band with any of his friends; why he’d never asked me to grab an instrument and join in. He hadn’t been playing for himself; he’d been playing for his magic.

“Every Faery’s power is based off an innate love within him or her,” Caleb said quietly. “Your brother must’ve been predisposed to music. His magical ability branched off it.”

His words had my head shooting up. “Wait, so it was music before magic?”

“Indeed.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Okay…I could deal with that. If Aaron’s music had been for any reason other than himself…

“Love.”

I shook my head. “I just…I’m okay.” I licked my lips, suddenly parched. “His life was his music, Caleb. If you’d told me his magic had been his music, I think it would’ve broken my heart.”

Caleb gazed at me. “Would that be so awful, dear?”

“Maybe… Maybe not,” I admitted weakly. “But for me, Aaron was music. That’s how I want to remember him.

“And my power then?” I asked after a long beat of silence, respected by both uncle and nephew. “How do I figure out what it is?”

“What is it you love?” Tracks asked me.

I opened my mouth, then paused and closed it again. It took me a moment before I realized my stupidity. “My art, I guess,” I answered at length. “Painting. Aaron and I were a tag team when it came to creative stuff.”

Caleb shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Leslie. Whatever power you have is part of who you are. Part of your very core. Whatever it has branched from must be part of your soul too.”

“How do you figure something like that out, then?” I challenged. “Painting has always been a very big part of my life. I’ve been doing it since I was little—Aaron and I would sing and paint together. We were each other’s inspirations. I couldn’t even touch a brush after he died…not until the other day. There’s no other hobby I can think of that’s ever mattered to me as much as my art.”

“What about skateboarding?” Tracks wanted to know. “You seem to have an affection for it as well.”

“Yeah, but that’s more of a shoot-the-shit kinda pastime.”

“The only way to really uncover what ability you have,” Caleb said, “is to try to tap into it. It’s been over a decade since it last revealed itself to you. You’re how old?”

“Seventeen.”

“Fourteen years then, at least. It’s buried deep, Leslie. The only way to be certain what it is, is to pull it back out. Which may take some time.”

I groaned. “I don’t have time.”

“I’m not going to let Fitz get to you, Leslie,” Tracks said firmly. “Nor will your cousin, believe it or not. You’ve got time.”

I glared at him. “Well, I wish I didn’t,” I shot back. I groaned again and dug my fingers into my temples. “Can you…can you at least give me some hints? A list of the powers, maybe?” I asked Caleb desperately. “Maybe if I know what to look for, it’ll be easier.”

“Magic’s never easy, Leslie,” Caleb warned me with a smile. “But a list is simple enough.

“There are nine Faery elements—none of which are the four classic ones you’d expect,” he began. “Those are cared for by the folk of the realm—the nymphs and satyrs and leprechauns and such that were born and bred from Nature herself. The powers you must concern yourself with are those that are used as protections of the realm.”

“Weapons,” I stated, understanding.

“Indeed. Long ago, the Faeries were a peaceful, nonviolent race and these elements were nothing more than their gifts. When the war broke out, however, and the keepers of the classic elements fled into hiding, these nine became Faeryland’s greatest protections.”

Caleb began ticking items off on his fingers. “Song, as you’ve just learned, can be used to bend those classic elements to the Faery’s will; Metal, which is the ability to forge any weapon or item from the scrap of another; Wood, the ability to create something out of nothing—to literally grow a weapon. There is Animal, the ability to speak to the creatures of land and sea and understand them without human barriers; Light, which allows the Faery to create light in any darkness; Storm, where the Faery may control and dictate weather patterns; Strength or Endurance, an invulnerability of the body and soul, allowing one to be unaffected by injury and unbothered by human constraints of stamina. There is Time, where a Faery may step outside its walls and move beside it, unknown and unseen by others; and finally, there is Shadow, the ability to duplicate or recreate any of the nine Faery elements.”

Caleb paused there and took a long sip of his beer. I didn’t blame him. That had been one hell of an explanation.

“So…” I said after a beat. “There are the regular elements—water, earth, air, and fire—and then these nine?”

“Yes.”

“I—” I broke off when I realized I had absolutely nothing to say. “That’s…crazy,” I managed at last.

Tracks chuckled. “Only for a mortal, love.”

I nodded. “Or someone like me. So every Faery has one of the above. All Faeries?”

“All of them,” Caleb concurred. “Based on an affection of said Faery.”

“I…what do you mean an affection?” I asked him. “I mean, with Aaron it was simple. Musician with the power of song. What’s…what would be an example for another—Wood or Metal or something?”

Caleb blew out a breath and sat back, considering. “Well… Your cousin is Callaghan, yes?” He glanced at his nephew. “Leila Callaghan, I take it?”

Tracks nodded in confirmation.

“Her ability is Light, is it not?” Again, he looked at his nephew.

“I think so. Honestly, I haven’t been around the war ground in a long while,” Tracks admitted.

I snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. She’s just so damn optimistic all the time! Despite all she’s done to me—or hasn’t done, depending on your perspective—she’s still half convinced I’ll come crawling back to her.”

Caleb and Tracks both looked at me.

“What?” I asked, confused.

They waited. Briefly, I reviewed what I said. “Oh,” I said meekly. “Light—happy. Got it.”

Caleb chuckled. “Perhaps another example, then. That seemed a bit too straightforward as well. Shadow, how about? Shadow is a duplication of—”

“Reality,” I interrupted.

Slowly, I straightened, an idea forming in my head the same way a painting would. I saw it coming to life: sketch, outline, and filler, layer upon layer forming as I talked myself through it aloud. “Shadow is a duplication, you said. A…an echo of what’s real, even. Like…like ghosts of things and people already here.”

I focused on Caleb and Tracks now. “When you’re standing outside, you see a shadow of yourself—an imitation. I…isn’t that what painting is, though? An imitation of reality? An echo?” I looked between them, both excited and unnerved by the idea forming. “Isn’t that what pictures are—all pictures? A shadow of the world? Tracks—” I broke off.

He was nodding however, his forehead creased as he considered the sense in it. “It’s logical, Leslie. And it fits perfectly with your personality. Like the sketch you drew to understand Faeryland.” He glanced over at his uncle again. “Uncle Caleb, do you think—”

“It’s possible,” Caleb agreed carefully. “It’s very possible. You know Leslie better than I. But you can’t just assume. You need proof. Leslie, you must find a way to bring your power to light again. You must find a way for it to manifest for you if you hope to have any real answers.”

"How?” I begged, the pressure to figure it out unbearable. I was so close, I knew. I could practically feel the last piece of the puzzle reaching out to me, begging me to see it, touch it. Take it.

But Caleb could only sigh as he leaned back in his chair again. “That, my dear, is something I can’t help you with.”