Tracks
Chapter Twelve

I stared at the screen long after I’d logged off. So that’s what this epic was: a land battle. The Hatfields and the McCoys but with wings and magic. And I was supposed to just take it all in, accept it. The war, the Faeries, Faeryland…Aaron. What else could I do when I finally had all the facts?

I couldn’t argue any more. I couldn’t tell myself I didn’t know what I was getting into or what my brother had been into. I couldn’t bury my denial in searching for answers. I knew as much as Tracks and Leila now. So what the hell was I supposed to do with the information?

“You all right there, love?”

I started, having forgotten Tracks was actually here, beside me. I looked over at him, the bridge of his nose black and blue, and found him leaning forward, watching me through his shades. Probably waiting for me to pass out or cry. I managed a weak smile.

“Maybe?” Then I shook my head. “No.”

“Which part?”

“Um…all of it.”

“Do you believe her?”

I chuckled. Leave it to Tracks to read my mind. “She’s my mother, Tracks. Why would she tell her little girl about a war?” I dragged my fingers through my hair, tugging on the purple. “God…Aaron could bend the elements. Aaron could control nature.” I closed my eyes and tried to picture it. My big, tough, skater champ of a brother playing with the elements like he’d played with his racecars.

“He was really skilled too,” Ma said, smiling with maternal pride. “I’d been teaching him since he was about three, when his power first started to manifest, and he was a natural. Could turn water into ice in less than a year.”

I was shocked. “Three?” I repeated. “He kept this from me for fifteen years?”

“Sweetheart, don’t blame him,” she begged. “Please don’t. I—we,” she reached for Dad’s hand then, “know how close ye and yer brother were. We know you had no secrets. But we needed him to keep this from you—we asked him to. And for that we’re sorry.”

“We didn’t want you involved, baby,” Dad chimed in, leaning closer to the screen. “War or no war, we knew what kind of person you were.”

“You never much liked my stories,” Ma had added sadly.

I opened my eyes then and looked at Tracks. “This is my fault,” I said softly.

He blanched. “Sorry, what? What’s your fault?”

I shrugged once. “Everything? If only I’d listened to Ma’s stories more often when I was a kid, if only I’d believed—hell, just pretended to believe! Then maybe Ma would’ve let Aaron tell me. Maybe I would’ve grown up in the Faery world and I wouldn’t be sitting here like a moron, trying to wrap my brain around it all. Maybe I could’ve even—”

“What?” Tracks interrupted gently. “You could’ve saved him?” He shook his head. “Whether you knew or didn’t know, you have no power of your own, Leslie. You couldn’t have joined in the war and you certainly couldn’t have saved your brother’s life.” He squeezed my hands to soften his words. “What could you have done?”

I turned away. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “But I feel completely useless right now and I don’t like it.” I pushed to my feet.

“Useless? Love, this isn’t your war,” he tried to argue.

“No? Aaron’s gone, and it was his. Why can’t I pick up where he left off?”

“And fight me?”

I froze then. Tracks gazed down at me and shrugged. “I’m a Wing, aren’t I? You heard your mum. Wings versus Elementals. Are you going to fight my kind along with your cousin?”

“Tracks,” I began. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“You’re my friend,” I said weakly.

He lifted a brow. “Love, that’s not how Callaghan will see it. A Wing is a Wing to her. It’s why she doesn’t like me even though I keep my hands clean now.”

“You didn’t used to?”

He shrugged.

“When?”

“Years ago, love. I stay out of the field now, as I’ve said before.”

I looked at him helplessly. “Tracks, what do you want me to do? Do you really expect me to just sit back now that I know what’s going on? Get on a plane and go home?”

“What about Fitz?” Tracks countered. “Do you think you can protect yourself from him?”

“All he’s got is wings,” I reminded him.

“And you’ve got even less. Love, if you really think you can take him on, then you don’t understand at all. If you really think you can start fighting, then you don’t.” He hesitated. “Leslie…you can’t be friends with me if you fight alongside your cousin.”

I sank back down in my chair, his words slicing through my resolve. “Wh-why not?”

“She won’t let you. Come on; you know that.”

“But…”

“There are sides in every war, Leslie. In this one, there’s no such thing as Switzerland.” He rose then. “I’m sorry, love. This isn’t a position I want you to be in any more than I want you in the same room as Fitz. But that’s the way of this battle and I know you know that.”

His smile was faint. “You know where to replace me. I’ll understand whichever you choose.”

He went to the window, checking that the coast was clear before leaping out onto the nearest tree.

“Tracks!” I called before he could fly off.

He looked back at me.

“I…please don’t go far.”

He nodded once. “Faery’s Honor.”

And then he was gone.

I wasn’t sure which was worse: having at least half a dozen bombs dropped on my head in one day or knowing that I might lose the only person I trusted because of those bombs. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the ceiling. And wished, just for a moment, that there were no such things as Faeries.

Though how much easier would my life really be if there weren’t? I wondered, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Faeries or no Faeries, I’d still have lost my brother. I’d still have lost my best friend. So instead of sitting in Ireland, overwhelmed by the supernatural, I’d be sitting at home, crying until my eyes bled. I supposed this was as fair a trade as I could get. If nothing else—literally nothing else—at least the Faeries were a distraction.

I opened my eyes again. A distraction where half the ones I’d met wanted me dead.

So what the hell was I going to do about it? I demanded silently, looking across the room at the old painting of the Faery on my wall. I sat up a little, gazing at it, remembering that it was through the production of this piece that I’d learned the steps for creating an image. And then I thought about the information I’d learned since I’d come to Ireland.

Tracks had given me the outline, an impression of Faeries the night I’d met him; Leila had transformed that impression into a sketch, having finally come clean in her car; and then Ma had come along and shaded in the blank spots Leila had left in the name of keeping me safe. The big picture wasn’t even close to being complete but I was at least halfway there. All I had to do was add the colors.

So what colors did I need?

I flipped onto my stomach and leaned over the side of my bed, yanking out my suitcase and tossing the top open. Inside lay the only items left to be unpacked—my sketchpad, shading pencils, brushes, and paints. I grabbed everything, then settled down on the window seat still smudged from Tracks’ shoes. And for the first time since Aaron had died, I started to draw.

Art hadn’t always just been a hobby of mine; it’d been a coping technique. When I was mad, I’d attack with splatter paint; when I was sad, I’d wallow in watercolor; when I was excited, I’d go crazy with neon. The therapist I’d gone to had recommended using art therapy to deal with Aaron’s death as well, but I hadn’t wanted to deal with it so I’d immediately turned her down.

But the Faeries… They needed some dealing. A lot of dealing. And the only technique I hadn’t yet tried was the method that had never failed me before.

It wasn’t as difficult a task as one might’ve expected. I didn’t have a set image in mind; I just drew what I knew. The castle and the woods; the railroad. I outlined Fitz and Leila, and what I remembered the last king and queen to look like. The lake, to represent Aaron’s power.

I sketched out Ripper’s because it was the sight of the most recent battle—and the only one I knew about. I drew the woman in black in the upper left corner, a shadow among the chaos, and Tracks in all his sarcastic glory beside her tower.

And Aaron. I hesitated as I started the outline for my big brother. It was hard to draw him; he came crystal clear in my mind but…it was difficult to realize I was drawing him as a memory. As a ghost. But he was part of this world. Whether I liked it or not, he was a part of the feud that the Faeries had been fighting for centuries, and he belonged here just as much as I didn’t.

When I’d finished, I laid the picture on my bed and stared at it for a long time. I knew more than I’d given myself credit for, I realized immediately. I knew of the Faeries and the war; I knew what the fine line between the Winged Ones/Straight Edges and the Elementals/Naturalists was. I knew about my brother and my family; the castle and Faeryland.

So what didn’t I know?

I didn’t know how to stop Fitz. And I didn’t know how to stop Leila.

As far as I was concerned, this war had gone on far too long. Neither side was making any headway; all they were doing was freaking out the locals and destroying decent people’s shops. The Wings were still standing tall and the Elementals were practically iron walls. Even Lincoln, crutches and all, was already back on the front lines. In three hundred years, this war hadn’t been swayed in either direction.

What good was the war then? So another three hundred years could pass where Wings and Elements would continue to fight and die? Until what? A king arose? A queen? Was I the only one who realized that wasn’t the way to win a battle?

But Tracks posed a point. Unfortunately, it was the same one Leila harped on: I could recognize all that, but what could I do? I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t engage in battle. Not only because I was human, but because I had no idea who I’d fight for. The queen’s army had the more noble cause but…centuries had passed. The people fighting in her name weren’t people I exactly wanted to fight beside. And honestly, I didn’t feel the people fighting in her name were exactly fighting for her same reasons anymore.

Leila wanted to destroy the Wings. That had been blatantly clear by the way she’d spoken about them. Was I the only one who realized not even the ancient queen had wanted that? Was I the only one who realized she’d chosen stripping their powers over killing them intentionally?

I shook my head as I stared at my drawing. The war Leila and Fitz were fighting now was one the queen’s descendants had built in blood and anger; the cause was long since lost. Now, it was a simple fight for power; kill or be killed and take the prize if you survive. That wasn’t a war that I wanted to take part in.

Who do I side with, then? The people who want nothing to do with me, or the ones who want me out of the way?

Whose side would understand when I explained how far off course this war had gotten?

Better question: which side did I trust more?

I sat and stared at the drawing until the sun went down.

I awoke the next morning no more decisive than when I’d fallen asleep. I dressed and went downstairs only to replace a note on the kitchen table from Brenna and Leila.

Gone to pick up our gowns. Be back in a bit.

Love, Leila.

I snorted. Love, Leila. Did she realize I didn’t give a damn if she loved me or not? I crumpled the note and threw it aside, then went to grab a bowl of cereal. My mind, for once, didn’t harp on Leila, but moved right back to the topic of last night—which side to take.

And it sucked.

More than anything I just wanted to talk to Tracks. I’d gotten used to talking to him, venting to him, working things out in my head with him. I’d gotten used to having him around as my backup—whether I knew he was there or not, and I’d gotten used to his reassurance that I wasn’t going absolutely crazy.

But I couldn’t talk to him this time. I couldn’t ask his advice or opinion. This time, I was on my own.

I sighed and set my bowl aside. I was getting absolutely nowhere again.

I went back upstairs, grabbed my sketchbook and skateboard, and then hurried out of the house and took off. The only place I could think to go was the railroad, so that was where I headed.

I needed to get back into the castle, I decided as I hightailed it away from Egan Street. I needed to get back inside and do a little searching on my own. I might not be able to talk to Tracks, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t refuse to help me. Especially since he needed me to decide soon so he’d know where we stood.

When I made it to the tracks, he was nowhere in sight, so I kicked up my board and headed into the woods anyway. He’d appear, I knew as I took my first few steps into the woods. He always did when I needed him to.

“Not today, love.”

I whirled around at the sound of his voice, not startled until I found him directly behind me. I stepped back automatically for some room.

“Have you learned nothing from sneaking up on me the last time?” I asked with a laugh.

Tracks didn’t smile though. Instead, he shook his head. “You can’t go back there today,” he said calmly. “Not right now.”

I didn’t like his tone. “Why not?”

“Your cousin’s back there. She and her mum. Came an hour or so ago.”

I lifted a brow. “Leila’s there? And Brenna?”

“They are.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Did they say anything?”

Tracks shook his head. “And risk letting a Wing overhear them?” He smirked at the irony. “Like your mum said, Faeryland’s open game at the moment. Both sides have been coming and going as they please for years, trying to replace a way to gain a foothold in Faeryland. I’ll bet that’s what the Callaghans are doing now, but they wouldn’t say it aloud. They wouldn’t discuss their plan where anyone could overhear.”

I groaned and leaned against a tree. “Damn it, Tracks. I need to get in there!”

“To do what? Are you painting again?” He nodded to the sketchpad in my hand.

I looked down at it, as though I’d forgotten it was there. “No.” I held it out to him, the pad still open to my sketch. “The picture’s nearly done. There’s, uh, just a few gaps left.”

Tracks took the sketchpad and looked it over in silence. He chuckled when he saw himself. “And what’s this all about then?”

I shrugged. “Sorting my thoughts out.”

“I’m confusing you now too?” he teased lightly.

“Not so much you as your wings,” I clarified.

He looked up at me. I could tell by the set of his mouth he wasn’t too happy about our situation either. “I’m not going to attack you, Leslie,” he said after a long pause. “Even if you decide to war against my kind. I’m not going to—”

“I know.” And, despite the fact that I’d only known him a few days, I did believe that. I did believe him. “But I haven’t made any decisions yet. Which is why I need to get into Faeryland.” I bit my lip. “I’ll keep a low profile,” I promised.

Tracks hesitated, gazing at me as he debated. I could tell he wasn’t a fan of my plan. Not only was I putting him at risk of being caught by Leila, but I was also putting myself at risk of her replaceing me. She wouldn’t be too chipper about that if it happened. But I couldn’t wait. I was a Lucas, just as stubborn as my brother. I wanted to get in now, so I needed to. End of story.

At length, Tracks sighed. “All right,” he agreed with a nod. He handed back the sketchpad. “All right, I’ll take you. But I can’t stay with you, Leslie.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

Tracks held out his hand. “Mobile.”

“What?”

“Mobile. Give it.”

It took me a moment to remember what the hell a mobile was in British speak, but I finally yanked out my cell and tossed it to him. He smirked. “Of course your mobile matches your hair.”

I smiled. “Actually, my hair matches my phone. It’s the shade I showed the hairdresser when I went to get it dyed last time.”

“Last time?”

“I’ve already been blue and green,” I said with a shrug.

I was pretty sure by the way he moved his head that he’d rolled his eyes. He tapped the screen on, dialed something, then shut it and tossed it back.

“Text me when you’re ready to leave,” he said by way of explanation. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

I laughed. “Did you forget, Tracks? You’re not supposed to be human.” I held out my hand. “Let’s go.”

Tracks hesitated another half second before sliding his hand into mine and pulling me deeper into the forest. The moment I saw the air ripple around us, saw the castle in the distance above us, I relaxed.

“I’ll take you to the battlements again,” he said softly. “Then just work your way down. It’s a lot easier than moving upward.”

I nodded.

“And if they leave, if you hear your cousin and aunt leave, phone me. I’ll come back sooner.”

I nodded again.

He slid his arm around my waist, preparing to fly me up to the castle, then paused and looked down at me. ”Be careful,” he said seriously.

I paused. I didn’t like the way he’d said that. It was one thing for me to dislike my cousin, but he’d given her the benefit of the doubt since day one. What did he think would happen if she caught me here?

Then I realized what he was worried about. If she caught me here with him.

I swallowed hard and nodded again. “I promise.”