Tracks

Making my way down was a lot easier than making my way up. I slipped through the window of one of the turrets and then edged my way down the spiral steps carefully. It was pitch black here, so the only light to guide my way was my cell phone. I was not about to risk falling down the stairs because I was in a rush. Who knew what magical quirks might be hidden in the walls?

I realized too late that Tracks had neglected to mention how many levels were hidden in this bigger-on-the-inside castle so I had no idea how many floors above Aaron’s room I was. How far down did I have to go; how far across? It really put a damper on the whole “be stealthy” creed I needed to follow.

I slipped into the hall noiselessly, peeking around the door to be sure the coast was clear. The hallway stretched in either direction; a staircase I didn’t recognize from the other day lay a good twenty feet from where I was. I knew I was in the same wing as before based on Tracks’ explanation when he’d dropped me off; Aaron’s room somewhere below me. But Tracks had also clarified that various staircases were interwoven throughout the castle to provide fast transport from one wing to another.

So did I want to explore more of the castle before hunting down Aaron’s room, or go immediately back to his place?

At length, I decided that exploring was the better option of the two. Who knew what new information I could find?

I went right, out of sight of the staircase, and down a long gallery lined in purple velvet that had long ago faded. The walls in this corridor were adorned with the same type of artwork and pottery as the floor Tracks and I had been to yesterday—tapestries of Faeries and warriors and ancient, peaceful creatures; vases depicting Faery tales and events in mythological and, undoubtedly, Faery history; paintings of men and woman, kings and queens, royal families…

I paused halfway down the hallway and looked both ways. Velvet carpet in the royal colors, royal family portraits… I glanced down the hall and saw a pair of large, ivory double doors with gold encrusted handles at the far end. I blew out a breath as it hit me.

This was the Royal Gallery. And, from the looks of the ancestry on the walls, undoubtedly part of the living quarters of the last queen.

Was this intentional on Tracks’ part? Sure, he didn’t want to risk coming inside the castle, but he could’ve helped me climb in through a window in Aaron’s room. Instead, he’d left me at the top of the castle to work my way down. Was it possibly with the hope that I’d find the queen’s quarters? And perhaps the primary library he’d mentioned the other day?

It would be so like Tracks to lead me right where I didn’t even realize I wanted to go.

There were only a few doors on this hall, I realized now that I’d torn my attention away from the paintings. Making sure Leila was nowhere in sight, I started opening each one, searching for a master library that might be the key to all of my questions.

There was a solar, a sitting room/parlor, a powder room, an art room and—

I grinned like an idiot. A library.

I shoved the door all the way open and stepped inside. It was huge. Like…massive huge. The library had three levels within itself and at least three dozen rows of books lining each side. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t seeing double. The number of books in this place… How many centuries would it have taken to collect them all?

I closed the doors quickly and moved deeper into the room, going slowly to take everything in. None of the bookcases were labeled, which was incredibly annoying, but then again, the royal family probably hadn’t needed labels. I went to the closest one and pulled down the first book I saw—and realized immediately that it wasn’t a book but a Bible. A record of all the births in the royal family between the dates 1500-1700.

I raised a brow. Funny place to keep a genealogy, I thought to myself. But who was I to argue?

I browsed through the first couple pages, not at all surprised that they were rimmed in pure gold, the words written in a fine silver ink. I skimmed over the names, most of them weird Gaelic ones that I’d have expected to find in a fantasy novel rather than real life. Every few pages there’d be a sketch of the family tree, tying everyone together, and it was after the third or fourth one that I noticed something odd.

I flipped back to the first “chapter,” for lack of a better term and looked over the list again. Name, birthdate, death date, spouse—it was all listed. But also listed was the power. The magical power of each of the family members. Every single name had a power listed beside it; even the children who’d died after only a few weeks had a power beside his or her name. Skipping ahead to the first family tree, I looked over it, plucking out certain names and then flipping back to check the listing.

And that was when I realized it. I stared at the tree for a long time, trying to wrap my mind around what I was reading. This couldn’t be right, I told myself over as I stared at the silver handwriting. There had to be a mistake. Ma had said…

But it didn’t matter what Ma had said because the proof was here. Right here in my hands. There was no way around it.

I started when I heard voices out in the hall. Shutting the book, I kept it close and hurried to the door, pressing my ear against the ivory, surprised that I could hear anything through the stone. But Leila’s voice was unmistakable. I swore under my breath.

“Mum, I think everything’s all right,” Leila was calling down the hall. “It doesn’t look like anything’s been moved.”

“Aye, and it shouldn’t be. Those Wings are smartening up, it seems, lass. Staying away.”

Brenna’s harsh tone caught me off guard.

“This place is ours, Leila. This realm. Perhaps they’re finally realizing that.”

I heard my cousin snort. “I doubt it. But at least they’ve not been back since the last time.”

“What, two months ago, was it?”

“Aye.”

“It’s like I said then. Smartening up. That’s a long time for them to keep their distance.”

“I wish I was as optimistic as you, Mum.” Leila sighed. “’But smarts have nothing to do with it. They’re planning something. They’ve got something up their sleeve; they wouldn’t dare risk losing Faeryland if they weren’t.”

“Leslie?” Brenna wondered and for a split second, I thought she was calling me.

“Fitz just wants her out of the way,” Leila said after a long pause. “There’s no grand scheme when it comes to her. If she’d stayed home, he wouldn’t have hunted her down.”

“Ye sure about that, lassie?”

“No,” Leila answered immediately. “Not at all. But Fitz’s only beef with her is her bloodline. He knows she knows nothing of the war, nothing of the feud. He just wants the last of the Lucases out of the way. He wouldn’t waste his time on a master plan to accomplish that.”

“Then what do ye suppose he is planning?”

“I wish I knew.”

Their voices faded then, and from the sounds of it, they were heading back down the stairs. I breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone and leaned back against the library doors.

That was close.

I sighed again and looked down at the Bible in my hands. The last of the Lucases out of the way. Well wasn’t that a depressing thought? Particularly since, if Fitz succeeded, I wouldn’t be recorded in an eternal book like this one. Just as Aaron wasn’t. We’d be forgotten by Faery kind, eventually forgotten by human kind as well, of no use to anyone ever again.

Unlike the men and women recorded in this tome who’s final act had just become helping a faithless mortal like me out.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Tracks’ number. But when he picked up, I didn’t tell him I was ready to go.

“We need to talk.”

He took me to the docks. I wasn’t sure why at first, until he explained he thought I could use some time away from the town. It was early afternoon by now, with the sun still high, and I was a little nervous about going out on the open sea with him. Both the Wings and Elements would have a perfect vision of us on the water if either happened by, but I also couldn’t deny that the thought of getting away was too good to pass up. Plus, I knew for certain that Tracks wouldn’t have risked it unless he was sure we’d be all right.

He rented one of the nicer tourist boats—a sleek, white speedboat with bronze seats—and steered it, not toward Galway or any other part of the coast, but right out into the middle of the Bay. Far from surfers, fishermen, and couples cruising under the setting sun. He led us far from every trace of humanity, killed the engine, and then waited.

For a few moments, I was silent. Galway Bay was beautiful. Bluish-green water that sparkled like jewels in the sunlight. Almost, but not quite, as impressive as the lake in Faeryland. In the distance, the emerald coast stretched on forever, the white beach smooth against the gray, rugged cliffs. If I’d had a bigger sketchpad with me, or a canvas and my paints, it would’ve made an amazing painting. Unfortunately, I had neither with me much less time to draw.

I turned to Tracks and handed the Bible over. He took it, looked at the cover and the dates, then back at me and shrugged. “This is what you went to find? A family history? An abridged family history?”

I leaned my elbows on my knees and nodded to it. “Look inside,” I said.

Tracks pursed his lips, leaned back against the steering wheel, and obliged. He skimmed through just as I had, going all the way to the end and back before finally looking up at me again. I could tell he didn’t understand.

“Leslie, what—”

“That’s a record of all the people born into the royal family in a two hundred year period,” I told him matter-of-factly. “All their names, their birth and death dates. And their powers. Everyone’s power.”

Tracks continued to gaze at me blankly.

I rose and slid my hands into my pockets. “Ma and Leila said that only the firstborn child had an elemental power.”

At once, Tracks’ demeanor changed. He sat up a little straighter, uncrossed his ankles, and stared down at the book in his hands.

“Ma said that only one child in every family had the Faery magic. Thomas, because he was the eldest; Aaron, for the same reason. Leila said as much too.” I shook my head slowly. “But that doesn’t make sense in the first place. How could you have an entire Faery community—a whole realm within a realm—and only have one child in each family actually able to bend the elements?” I licked my lips. “I should’ve realized it before,” I murmured.

“Leslie—”

“Ma’s got a power too, doesn’t she?” I asked, my voice heavy with emotion. I was as terrified of being right as I was of being wrong. “She’s got one just like Uncle Thomas did. Do I, Tracks?” My voice cracked with a mixture of emotions. “Do I have one too? Am I just like my brother?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He gazed up at me, uncertain what to say.

“Why are you asking me this?” he said at last.

“Because,” I whispered and the moment I began, I knew I meant every word. “You’re the only person I can trust anymore.”

Tracks ran his hand over his hair, still holding the Bible in both hands. I sank to my knees in front of him, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Why?” he said at length.

I just shrugged. “I don’t know.”

And I didn’t. I’d gone through it a hundred times since I’d come to Ireland and I still couldn’t explain why I flocked to Tracks whenever I was upset. Why I turned to him for help and advice all the time. There was something about him I trusted, something that made me know I could count on him. Maybe it was his immediate honesty with me. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t let me down yet. All that mattered was that I did trust him. And I needed his honesty again now.

“You should have a power,” he confessed at last, looking down at me. “By the natural biology of the Faeries, yeah, you should. So should your mum and any other siblings you might’ve had. But I don’t think you do. So I thought your mum was honest that only the firstborn is gifted.”

I closed my eyes a moment, letting his words sink in, the last piece of the mystery that hadn’t made sense, solved. “What do you mean?”

“You should have an element in you, Leslie, but for some reason, you don’t know it. Magic can’t hide from its own, Leslie. It’s innate; it’s part of a Faery’s soul. It comes at the same age for every Faery—for all Faeries. It manifests within the first couple years of life and is then practiced and perfected over time. That’s just the way it is.” Tracks paused. “If you have a power, you should know about it. And you should be able to see Faeryland because of it. But you don’t and you can’t.” Tracks sighed. “And I don’t know why any more than you do.”

I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and let my head fall against his knee. I’d thought I was numb to being shocked by this point in my life. Even though I’d been expecting an affirmative on the power front, that didn’t make it any easier to digest. For all the logical sense it made, the sting from Ma’s last attempt to protect me hurt more.

Unless she hadn’t been lying. Unless I didn’t have a power and was instead the abnormally human Lucas. Why else wouldn’t I know about it? Why else would my magic never have shown itself? Either I was being kept in the dark by the fates and even the magic of the Faeries didn’t want anything to do with me, or I truly was the exception to the rule, and it was easier to tell me that no siblings had magic than just me.

Part of me knew that, at this point, maybe I should finally listen. Look the other way, go home. Forget everything I’d seen and learned because I wasn’t wanted by the Faeries any more than I had wanted to find them. But after all the effort I’d put into this, all the time I’d spent searching for truths and deciphering half-truths, I couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t in my nature. And, though the truth might eventually be the death of me, I needed it. All of it.

I lifted my head. “Is there anyone who might know, Tracks? Anyone you know who might be able to tell me if I have an element?”

Tracks covered my hand with his. “Leslie,” he began.

“I’ve come too far, Tracks. We’re so close. I need to go all the way.”

Tracks hesitated only a moment. “Yeah,” he said at length. “Yeah, I know someone.”

He sent me home first. Said he needed to talk to whoever it was alone to set up some sort of arrangement, and then he’d call me to let me know where to meet them. I wasn’t happy with the thought of going back to Egan Street. My cousin and aunt were probably home by now and I didn’t want to have to deal with them. But Tracks insisted that I should take some time and think about my decision; I think he was hoping that I’d let it go if we were apart long enough. But I don’t think he put too much stock in the idea.

He walked with me halfway back to Leila’s, then said goodbye and took off. I stood in the street and watched him fly away, knowing that the wait was going to be brutal. But there was nothing I could do. I’d done my part, talked to everyone who would listen, played Nancy Drew to fill in what blanks I could. Now, all I could do was hope that Tracks’ friend would be willing to help finish the job.

There was one thing I knew for sure though, and it was a comfort, even now. No matter what happened, no matter whose side I ended up on, Tracks would never be my enemy. After everything he’d done for me—all the help, all the comfort—no matter what happened in the end, I would never turn against Tracks.

I pushed open the front door, bracing myself for the onslaught of “where have you been” and “it’s not safe to be alone,” then stopped short when I saw someone else sitting on the couch.

“Lincoln?”

His head fell back and he looked upside down at me over the back of the sofa. He grinned. “Oi, its Leslie!” he cried, throwing up his hands in delight. He patted the cushion beside him. “Grab a seat, darling. Just put in The Order of the Phoenix."

I lifted a tentative brow and walked around the couch, leaving my sketchpad and Bible on the table by the door. I dropped down beside him. His leg was propped up on the coffee table, and the skin around his knee where the cast didn’t quite reach was black and blue. The cast definitely wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

He saw me staring at it and nodded. “Want to sign it? Lei and the others have already taken a pen to it.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe later,” I said. “Where is she anyway? Leila? She let you in?”

“She did.” Lincoln nodded. “Then Mary phoned in and said the costumes were ready. She and her mum went to pick them up.”

A little bell went off in my head. Gone to pick up the dresses? Wasn’t that their excuse when I woke up a few hours ago?

“So what, you’re just gonna chill here?” I asked, deciding Lincoln didn’t need to deal with my complaints today. He knew where I stood; he knew I wasn’t an idiot. As far as he was concerned, I’d figure it out for myself anyway—which I was doing. Right now, he just needed to focus on healing up.

He nodded again. “That’s the plan. Don’t mind a bit of company, do you?”

“Only if you don’t steal my popcorn.”

“Oh, can I have some?!”

I got to my feet and laughed. He sounded like a three year old begging his mommy and daddy for a candy bar. “Maybe,” I quipped, skirting around his leg and heading for the kitchen. “Only if you’re a very good boy.”

I had to hunt around for the popcorn since Brenna didn’t keep her pantry as organized as Ma’s, but there it was, hidden between the peanut butter and oatmeal. I threw it in the microwave and set about making hot chocolate, then leaned against the counter while I waited for the corn to pop and the water to boil. I was tempted to ask Lincoln my questions simply because I knew he was kind of in agreement with me. But that really wasn’t a good idea. He might be my friend but he was loyal to Leila; he’d tell her what we talked about and I didn’t want her to know how much I’d learned. Not until I was certain there was nothing left to come out of the woodwork.

I checked my cell, hoping I’d see a missed call from Tracks. The screen was blank aside from the Batman wallpaper.

I sighed. Guess I’m in for the afternoon.

“Oi, Leslie! It’s starting!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Here we go,” I said, coming in a few minutes later. “Popcorn and cocoa.”

Lincoln looked at the mug I handed him in confusion. “Cocoa? In summer?”

I shrugged. “It’s a thing. The ultimate movie meal.” I smiled. “Something Aaron and I always did.”

Lincoln hesitated a moment, looking up at me, as though surprised I’d let him in on a piece of Aaron’s and my life. Then he smiled and took a long slurp.

“Brilliant,” he quipped, wiping foam from his upper lip.

I laughed. “Glad you like it. I’ll be right back.”

“Where you going?”

“To put my stuff away. Don’t worry. I’ve seen this movie a zillion times.” I went to the table and grabbed the book and sketchpad, then hurried upstairs to shove both in the suitcase under my bed. Just in case Leila came looking, I didn’t want anything to be in plain sight. Then I skipped back downstairs and hopped over the couch.

“Ow,” Lincoln said as his leg jostled.

I froze.

“Just kidding.”

His leg was the only thing that kept me from smacking him.

Leila and Brenna came home about a third of the way into the movie and joined in for a little while. Having my cousin beside me threw off my good mood for a few scenes, but then Christopher called and she disappeared to go meet him somewhere. Not long after, Brenna left as well, claiming she felt like a pooper to mine and Lincoln’s “party.”

That was perfectly fine with me. For some reason, even though Lincoln was obeying Leila’s order, I was still more comfortable around him than anyone else in her little group. Maybe it was because I knew he wanted to tell me; wanting went a long way in my mind. Whenever I hung out with Lincoln, for a little while, I could almost forget that the world didn’t make sense. It was almost like hanging out with my brother again.

When my cell phone rang, I didn’t answer it. I didn’t even look at the caller ID. And then Lincoln recommended the sequel and I hopped right up and threw it in. I wasn’t ready to let this normalcy go yet.

“Oh, come on—he’s a total wimp!” Lincoln said as the sixth Harry Potter movie rolled into the credits.

“He’s had a hard life; give him a break!” I tossed back, getting up to pull the DVD out of the player.

“You’re just saying that because he’s pretty. If he wasn’t pretty, you’d believe me when I say he’s a total wanker. And a daft one at that!”

“Stop throwing in weird British words!” I chucked the DVD box at him. “So what if I think he’s pretty? He’s still had a hard life. His father’s a bastard; his mother’s a side card; and his aunt’s insane. How would you feel growing up in an environment like that?”

Lincoln threw the box back. “Draco Malfoy is in no way a good character.”

“I didn’t say he was good; I said he wasn’t evil. There’s a huge difference.”

He hooted. “There is not! There’s good and there’s evil—there is no in between.”

“Not everything’s black and white like that, dude. Think like that and you’re as jaded as an American.”

He smirked. “I agree that the world’s not black and white,” he conceded with a nod. “But when it comes to good and evil, there are no two ways about it. You can’t be evil fighting for good and you can’t be good fighting for evil. There’s just good and evil and that’s it. Nothing else.”

I fell silent then, wondering when we’d gone from debating Draco Malfoy’s status to debating the parameters of good and evil. I wanted to tell Lincoln he was wrong; that I knew that without a doubt. Technically speaking, Tracks was born on the side of the king and his wings made him Lincoln’s enemy. But he wasn’t fighting. He wasn’t engaging in battle with Lincoln and Leila and Fitz. Instead, he was spending his time helping me.

There’s only good and evil? No, I wanted to say. There’s a hell of a lot more to it than that.

“I think,” I said carefully, “you need to look a little deeper than that, Lincoln. Look below the surface. Yeah, Draco’s actions weren’t the best, but how he felt about them? He didn’t want to do half of what the Death Eaters told him to. He was scared for his life. He knew what was right and what was wrong; fear made him choose wrong.” I shrugged. “Is there really any fault in that?”

Lincoln seemed to realize then that the conversation had shifted to more than Harry Potter and he hesitated. “And what would you say if a man like him killed your brother?” he said softly. “How would you feel then?”

I was shocked by his callousness. “Well then,” I murmured. “I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t.” I picked up the empty cocoa mugs and the almost empty bowl of popcorn and walked into the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Lincoln sigh.

I dumped the mugs in the sink and threw away the remaining kernels, and when I turned back to leave the kitchen, I found Lincoln standing on his crutches in the doorway, looking like the most pitiful puppy dog in the world.

“Leslie, I’m really sorry. That was low.”

I shrugged. “It’s no big.”

“Yeah, it is. I didn’t mean it.”

I nodded. “I know.” And with Lincoln, I actually did.

“I just…I want you to know you need to be careful. Not…” He hesitated. “Not everyone is as they seem around here.”

I met his eyes. “I know,” I repeated pointedly, glancing at his cast.

“It’s been quiet lately,” he offered after a beat.

I thought back to Ripper’s—after we’d taken him to the hospital two days ago. “No, it hasn’t.”

“What—”

“Fitz paid me a visit.” What did it matter if he knew that? I’d already told Leila anyway. He probably already knew and didn’t want me to know he did. “When I went back to look around, he tried to fight me.”

Lincoln’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

I groaned inwardly. All right, guess Leila hadn’t shared that bit.

“Did he hurt you?”

I shrugged again, trying to act nonchalant so he wouldn’t question how I’d gotten away. It wasn’t as though I could mention Tracks to Lincoln. “No. He kept his distance. Just…basically made it very clear he wanted me out of the way.”

Lincoln closed his eyes for a second. “Leslie, I—”

“What?” He looked back at me. “What? You’re sorry? You wish I’d never been put in that position? You want me to steer clear of him?” I chuckled wryly. “It’s not that simple, Lincoln, and Leila doesn’t seem to get that. Maybe you will.

“I’m not running away from this,” I said very clearly, taking a step toward him. “I’m not running from Fitz or from the Straight Edges or from the magic.” His hazel eyes grew to the size of baseballs. “I’ve already told my cousin this and she doesn’t care. She won’t listen. So now, I’m telling you.”

“Leslie, I…I don’t understand this. Any of it.” Lincoln looked at me helplessly. “What’s the big deal if we want to protect you?”

“The big deal?” I paused. “Honestly, there isn’t one. It’s just me wanting my own way. Excuse the cliché, but its personal. Aaron was involved. So I’m going to be too. If you want to help me, great; if not…well, for some reason, I can’t hold that against you.” I smirked. “I don’t have a grudge against you, Lincoln. When I figure out why that is, I’ll let you know.”

“I—” He broke off.

I just nodded. Yeah. I didn’t really expect him to give me anything more to go on than Leila had.

I took a deep breath. “You still gonna stick around? We can backtrack. Watch the fourth movie?”

Lincoln seemed more than relieved by that suggestion. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Okay then. I’ll make more popcorn.”

He smiled. “Brilliant. Meet you out there then.” He turned and hobbled away, and the moment he was gone, I slumped back against the counter.

Well, that was…interesting. Certainly not the conversation I’d expected to have with Lincoln, of all people. If I was going to have it out about good and evil and why I was involved with the Faeries, I’d definitely have chosen to have it out with Leila.

But maybe this was good, I considered, glancing toward the living room as the popcorn popped. I didn’t understand why, but I had a soft spot for Lincoln. I could actually see him as someone I’d text every now and then after I returned to Connecticut. I could pretend things were normal when he was around—that there wasn’t a big battle between Wings and Elementals waging in the background of the day to day. I could pretend I was just a skater again.

I didn’t expect for a second that Lincoln would now suddenly be able to change Leila’s mind about the war and my involvement, but having him understand my side kept this battle from breaking whatever friendship we had apart.

So for once, I was grateful for the argument.