Tracks

“So,” Tracks said as we walked along the beach an hour later. “What do you think?”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and kicked a seashell. “About?”

“Help? Or hurt?”

I smiled a little. “Well, I can promise it didn’t hurt. I just wish Faeries didn’t make everything so complicated. Shouldn’t there be some kind of guidebook that outlines how to figure out what a person’s power is?”

He shrugged. “Well, look at it like this, love: how often do you think Faeries don’t know their own magic?”

“Good point.” I sighed and looked out over the sea. “Caleb was nice, by the way. A lot friendlier than I’d expected.”

“What, because he’s a Wing?”

I grimaced sheepishly.

Tracks chuckled. “It’s all right, Leslie. No offense taken. Honestly, he was surprised an Elemental was willing to meet with him as well. But my uncle’s like me—he doesn’t like getting involved in the dirty work Fitz and his mates take pleasure in. That, and he’s a bit too old for it.”

“What does he do?” I wondered. “He looked pretty sharp today.” I tugged on Tracks’ rolled up sleeve.

“It’s how I was raised,” he said by way of explanation. “But my family is in the brewery business; we own a few establishments around the world. London’s our home base.”

“And let me guess, Uncle Caleb flew in just to see me?”

He nodded. “More or less.”

I bit my lip and then decided just to say what was on my mind. “I’m glad you chose your uncle, Tracks. It means something to me.”

I saw him open his mouth questioningly, then apparently thought better of it and closed it again. He knew what I was trying to convey.

“What now?” he wanted to know after a few moments of silence. “Back to Faeryland?”

I shook my head. “Faeryland can’t help me any more than it already has. Now, it’s up to me. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do but figuring it out is my responsibility.”

“It helps, I think, that you’re more open now,” Tracks commented, glancing over at me. “You’ve been to Faeryland, you believe your mum’s stories, you know your brother was involved… Maybe it won’t be so hard to figure out where you fit now that you believe you do.”

I cast him a look. “Where do I fit, Tracks?”

He paused and turned to face me. “What do you mean?”

“This war’s been going on for three hundred years and I’m just stepping into it now. I can’t stop it—not yet, not on my own—and I still haven’t decided which cause is right. All I know is that neither Fitz nor Leila are fighting in the name of the king or queen anymore; they’re fighting to fight. And if I’m gonna join up, then I’m going to with a purpose.”

“Well, it’s a simple question, Leslie,” he said calmly. “Do you believe in the king or the queen?”

I shook my head though. “It’s not simple. Not anymore. I want to fight with you, Tracks. No matter what happens, I know that I want you on my side. But I don’t think my brother was on your side when he was alive.”

Tracks let out a breath. “He wasn’t,” he agreed.

“Aaron’s dead.” The words still hurt to admit. “Whatever reason he was fighting for died with him. And maybe that’s because he was fighting on the wrong side.”

“You think Callaghan’s the wrong side?”

“I think Leila’s misguided in this fight. She wants to avenge her father and make him proud, and she wants to beat Fitz because she hates him. She never once mentioned fighting in the name of the queen or in the name of Faeryland. No one can win this battle with that kind of mindset. And I know you agree with me or else you wouldn’t have stayed out of the war in the first place.”

He nodded slowly. “But again, where does that leave you, love?”

I took a deep breath. “I think we both know where it leaves me, Tracks. Which means we’re in for one hell of a battle.”

I’d almost forgotten about the ball until Leila came into my room later that night, carrying the gown Mary had made me. She hung it on the back of my door then wavered in the doorway as though debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. I was in the middle of adjusting the wheels of my new skateboard, but I set it aside when she entered and waited for her to speak.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Lincoln’s worried,” she said at length. “He, eh…he said he’s phoned you a few times today and ye haven’t answered.”

She was right. Lincoln had called twice while I’d been at the beach with Tracks and then at least once every hour since I’d come home. I’d ignored them all, letting them go to voicemail because I knew it would be a lot harder to do what I needed to do if I’d picked up.

I shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“Ye were gone most of the day. Everything all right?”

Which was her way of asking what I’d been doing.

I nodded. “I was out with a friend of mine. He helped me get my mind off some things.”

“He?”

I nodded again but made no move to go on.

“And who is he?”

I paused. That was a good question. I’d been calling him Tracks for so long now, I’d forgotten I didn’t know his real name. We’d have to fix that soon.

“Just a friend,” I said by way of answer.

“Do I know him?”

“I don’t know,” I lied.

“What’s his name?”

“What’s with the third degree, Leila?” I demanded abruptly, tired of beating around the bush now that I realized there was a bush being beat around.

Leila stood a little straighter and looked me in the eye. “Chris was out earlier and said he saw you with someone. A man with sunglasses. He didn’t get close enough to see who it was but he has his suspicions.”

I smirked. “Does he? So what—Chris is your boyfriend and your lackey? Were you keeping tabs on me?”

“No.” But the moment she said it, I knew she was lying.

I shook my head in disbelief and rose to my feet. “Seriously, Leila? Tabs? What, you think because I’m your cousin that I’m your property? Isn’t it enough that you’re keeping the war from me; now you’re trying to tell me who to hang out with? You might be the commander, Leila, but you’re not mine.”

“When it comes to this war, yes, I am. Stay away from him, Leslie. You promised me you’d be careful and hanging around him is the exact opposite.”

“Oh really? And who do you think he is? Who does your lackey suspect he is?”

Leila tucked her tongue in her cheek. “Luke Bradford.”

I blinked. Luke Bradford? Bradford—

Then it hit me. “The rich kid who lives in the manor on the sea? The one you think is a spoiled brat?”

Leila rolled her eyes. “Give it a rest, Leslie—I know he was who you were with. After I warned you to stay away from him—”

“You said nothing more than he was a spoiled brat!” I reminded her loudly.

“Because I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to find him!” she shot back. “He’s a Wing, Leslie! And leader of them before he got scared and decided to hide in his big mansion! Leslie, ye thought Fitz was bad—Luke was the worst of them. Ye can’t honestly be telling me otherwise!”

“You don’t know him!” I snapped, even as I realized I was admitting to hanging out with him. “He’s nothing like Fitz!”

“Well, of course he’s not. Not to yer face. Not if he wants ye as a mate. Blimey, Leslie—why can’t ye listen to me, just this once? Why can’t ye swallow yer pride and just listen?!”

“And why did you make this into a fight?!” I threw back. “If you’d been straight with me from the start, do you really think we’d be in this predicament? Do you really think I’d trust him over you?”

“Trust him? Leslie, he’s a one of them! A Straight Edge! A Wing! What, because he decided to blow the Faery secret, that makes him a good bloke?”

“It makes him an honest one! And you know what, Leila, I don’t have to defend myself to you. It’s not just a matter of him being honest, and you not. He gets it. The war, the history. He understands the fight. You don’t. I don’t have to be a Faery to know you don’t. You’re fighting for all the wrong reasons, and I won’t be a part of that. I can’t believe Aaron was for as long as he was here.”

Hurt flashed across Leila’s face, but she hid it quickly. “Aaron? Leslie, you’ve no idea what Aaron did while he was here. He never fought—I’ll tell ye that. He never engaged no matter how often Fitz tried to coax him. He spent his summer here bundled up in that bloody palace—we barely saw his face except when he’d come home to sleep. I’ve no more idea what he was doing cooped up there than you do, but I certainly know he wasn’t cozying up with the Wings.”

Her face twisted with anger then and I stared at her, stunned by her words. She’d never mentioned that before. Any of it. I’d… All this time, I’d thought Aaron had been fighting on the front lines with her—against Tracks’ people.

“I don’t know what yer brother was up to, Leslie, but he was a coward. He left the war to me and my friends, and he hid himself away when we needed him most. He—”

Whatever she had left to say never made it out of her mouth. My fist reacted before my brain could. She stumbled back, reeling with the blow in the same way Tracks had when I’d clocked him in the nose. The difference was, I felt pleasure this time, no guilt. Never in my life had I been filled with such white hot rage as I was now.

Her hand came up to her cheek, red now with the imprint of my fist, and she stared at me.

“My brother was not a coward,” I growled. “I don’t know who you think you are, but a leader certainly isn’t it. Whatever Aaron was doing was important to him and I’ll be damned if you think I’m gonna stand here and listen to you insult him. You want to fight, Leila? Then we’ll damn well fight. You just cleared up any guilt I might’ve had about it.” I lifted my chin and stepped back. “Thanks for that. Now get out.”

Leila’s eyes narrowed. “Leslie—”

"Get out.”

She clenched her jaw as she glared at me. “You’re making a mistake, Leslie. One I can promise ye’ll regret.”

“See you on the front lines, then,” I spat.

She whirled around and stormed out of my room, slamming the door behind her, the dress clattering to the floor.

And with that, whatever uncertainties I might’ve still had died. I waited just long enough for night to fall, then yanked my suitcase—recently repacked—out from under my bed. I wasn’t exactly happy when I had to heave it out the window—after all, it was decked out with dozens of stickers from concerts Aaron and I had been to—but it was my only option at the moment. If anyone heard it hit the ground, no one came to check. I grabbed my skateboard and my laptop case, then jumped out the window after my bag and lugged it to my car. I’d half expected one of them to put boots on the wheels, but it seemed they weren’t that clever.

I’d just tossed my bags in the backseat when I saw the foyer light turn on. I was pulling out of the driveway when the front door opened.

I’d have to remember to get rid of the license plates, I told myself as I sped away from the neighborhood. Or better yet, find a nice ditch to leave the car in. Until then…

It was just after nine thirty when I pulled up in front of the tall, looming manor sitting somberly on the cliffs by the Bay. I climbed out of the car, a little surprised the Bradfords hadn’t invested in gates against the unwanted Elementals, and walked up to the large, black front doors, ten times more foreboding than the one in Faeryland, and a million times more welcoming. I rang the bell once and slammed the knocker three times.

Green. That was the first thing I noticed when he answered the front door. His eyes were green.

Tracks—Luke, I supposed now—gazed at me in shock as I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked up at him in the moonlight.

“Change of plans,” I said simply. “Our battle starts now.”