Sean Cullen - The Prince of Two Tribes

They reached the second floor. Brendan faced her. “What’s it to you, super-pest? I don’t have to tell you where I’m going. What are you, the CIA?”

“Worse.” Delia smiled sweetly. “I’m your sister.^ 27 At least according to the law.” Delia was always pointing out that they weren’t really related. She seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in reminding Brendan that he was adopted. “You can’t put anything past me. I’m all over you like a bad smell.”

“I agree with the bad smell part.”

“Ha-ha!” Delia leaned into him, jabbing a finger in his ribs. “If you’re hiding something, I’m gonna find out. You can’t escape me, Brendan. I’ve got my eye on you.” She pointed at her eyes with two fingers and then stabbed the same fingers at Brendan. “Believe it!”

Threat delivered, she spun on her heel and marched into her room. Brendan caught a glimpse of the clothing strewn lair that was Delia’s sacred inner sanctum before she slammed the door. Filled with apprehension, he stared at the closed door. Delia was tenacious. If anyone could expose his secret, he’d bet on her. He would just have to be very careful around her. Very careful indeed.

I suppose I could have her killed, he said to himself. He shook his head. I pity any assassin sent after my sister. Laughing softly, he climbed the ladder-cum-staircase to his attic room.

Brendan’s room had become the one place in his world where he could completely relax. He flopped down on the bed, tossing his jacket onto the floor. He was exhausted. Greenleaf had pushed him hard today. Brendan knew Greenleaf was concerned about his lack of progress. But every time Brendan tried to exercise his abilities, he found himself unable to focus on the task at hand. No matter how he tried, the results were mediocre at best. A headache threatened at the back of his skull.

“Oi! Oi!” BLT’s muffled but indignant voice rose from the floor. “Get offa me! I’m suffocatin’!”

Brendan swung his feet to the floor. His jacket was practically hopping around the floorboards as BLT battled to escape from the pocket. He grabbed the garment and opened the flap for her. Instantly, she rocketed out of her cloth prison and smacked into the bedside lamp. The fixture toppled. The old Brendan would never have caught the lamp before it shattered on the floor. Without thinking, the Warp Warrior speed flared in his nerves and he snatched it from mid-air and placed it back on the nightstand.

“What’s the big idea?” BLT demanded, lighting on the lampshade and shaking her fist at Brendan. “You tryin’ ta kill me?”

“Quiet!” Brendan hissed. “Someone will hear you. My sister is suspicious enough as it is.”

BLT stuck out her tongue at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was tangled. She began to massage her temples. “My head is killing me.”

“Serves you right,” Brendan said, lying back down. “I told you, no sugar.”

“What a downer you are.” BLT flitted down and stood on Brendan’s chest with her arms crossed. “You oughta lighten up.”

“How am I supposed to lighten up? I’ve got to learn how to use my powers.”

“You know how to use your powers!” BLT marched up his chest and placed a tiny booted foot on Brendan’s chin. “When you ain’t thinkin’ too much, you just do it naturally.” She slapped his nose. “Stop thinkin’!”

“Ow!” Despite her size, BLT packed a wallop. “Quit hitting me!”

“Who are you talking to?” Delia’s voice sounded from the bottom of the stairs. “Who’s up there with you?”

Brendan scrambled to his feet in a panic. “Nobody!” He heard Delia mounting the stairs.

“There’s someone up there with you! I heard you talking to someone.”

In a split second, Brendan scooped up a squirming BLT and stuffed her into the drawer of his bedside table. “Be quiet,” he hissed at the little Faerie before slamming the drawer shut. He turned just as his sister’s head rose up above the floor.

“Who’s up here?” She glared around the small room.

“I’m up here, idiot. Who do you think?” Brendan tried to look innocent. He prayed that BLT had the sense to keep her mouth shut.

Delia narrowed her eyes, studying his face. “You’re lying! I heard you talking to someone just now.”

“I was doing some homework… for Drama Club. Rehearsing lines.”

“Since when are you in Drama Club?”

“Since when is it any of your business?”

“Since you started acting all weird.”

“I’m not acting weird. I’m acting. Now get out of my room.”

“I know you’re up to something. And I know I heard you talking to someone.”

“Get out! You aren’t allowed up here. Get lost!”

“Make me!”

Brendan was about to do just that. He made it two steps across the floor when the nightstand rattled loudly. Brendan froze. The table rattled again, practically leaping off the floor.

Delia stared in shock. “What was THAT?”

“What?” Brendan asked innocently.

“The nightstand moved.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

With a bang, the drawer shot out of the stand and hit the opposite wall. In a shower of sparks, BLT came whizzing out of the drawer and buzzed around the room like a miniature comet.

“Oh no!” Brendan groaned.

Delia shrieked as BLT swooped toward her face. Throwing up her hands for protection, she lost her balance and fell backwards down the staircase. A loud thud told Brendan she had landed on the floor in the hallway below. He rushed to the opening and looked down to see his sister lying flat on her back on the carpet, her eyes wide with surprise and her mouth a round little o.

“Are you all right?”

Delia blinked up at him once. Twice. Then, she began to shriek and point at Brendan. “It’s on your SHOULDER! WHAT IS IT? A BUG!”

Brendan turned his head to see BLT squatting on his shoulder, a half-eaten M amp;M in her sticky hands and a mad grin on her face. Her eyes were glossy as marbles.

“Look what I found in the drawer!” She took another bite of the candy and zipped off to resume her circuitous transit of Brendan’s bedroom. Delia shrieked and leapt to her feet. “MUM! MUM!” She ran off down the stairs. “There’s some kind of KILLER BUG in Brendan’s room!”

Brendan felt a wave of relief. Delia couldn’t see BLT’s true appearance.^ 28 He’d have far less trouble explaining a big bug than explaining a Faerie. He shook his head and descended the staircase to help calm his now-hysterical sister.

He smoothed things over with Delia, convincing her he’d driven the wasp out of the open window of his room. In a sense, he was telling the truth. He’d shooed BLT out his window and told her to stay away for the rest of the night. She could stand the cold. She just didn’t like it. On nights when she was banished from the house, she’d fly off to meet up with other Lesser Faeries in the park or go hunting for sweets. She always managed to take care of herself.

He went downstairs to find that his father had arrived home from work at the cafe and it was time for dinner. He suddenly realized he was absolutely starving. Time flew by as he sat with his family and listened to his father regale them all with his impressions of the customers he’d served that day. Even Delia seemed to relax and forget her scare, laughing in spite of her protestations that her father was the least funny man in the world and that his stories were the dumbest in the world.

When he was with his family, he could almost forget about the weirdness of the Faerie world and his place in it. He could forget about the Art, Gatherings of Clans, and Proving Challenges. Here, at the kitchen table, eating meatloaf with his mother and father and even his annoying sister, he belonged. He was home.