Sean Cullen: The Prince of Two Tribes

“She said she had some errands to run. Probably shopping at the mall with her friends. She left a few minutes ago.” His mum stood up and put her coffee cup in the sink. “I’m going to take a shower and then we’re going to get a tree.” She waited for her husband to respond. “Edward?”

“Hmm?” His father tore his eyes from the television. “Oh, okay. Fine. I’m ready any time.”

Satisfied, Mum kissed Brendan on the forehead and went upstairs, leaving him alone with his father. Brendan chewed his toast, watching the game highlights in silent companionship with his dad.

Finally, the show ended and his dad turned off the TV. “What a miserable shootout. Our goalie couldn’t stop a beach ball with a piano tied to it,” he said glumly.

Brendan had a sudden thought. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“No,” his dad answered flatly. Brendan looked at him in confusion until his father laughed. “I’m kidding. What do you want to know?”

“Just some advice, kinda,” Brendan said.

“I’ll kinda try and help if I kinda can.”

“Right.” Brendan thought for a moment then struggled to form his question. “When you’re doing something difficult like, say, trying to learn a new song… ”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever just not been able to do it, no matter how hard you tried? I mean, for some reason, no matter what you do, you can’t play the song or whatever?”

“You mean, like having a mental block?”

“Something like that.” Brendan nodded. “In fact, exactly like that.”

His father frowned. “That’s happened before, sure. Sometimes, for whatever reason, your mind just can’t absorb something. I remember trying to learn ‘American Pie.’ Long song. Lotta words. Kind of annoying. I had to perform it at somebody’s wedding and I didn’t have it down the night before.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I’d been killing myself trying to get it perfect and I’d spent hours and hours poring over the words, but I just couldn’t play it through perfectly. So… I convinced them to let me play another song.”

Brendan had been anticipating some words of wisdom. His face fell.

“Again, I’m kidding,” he laughed. “Although I think ‘American Pie’ is a pretty lame song for a wedding. I mean, you want to immortalize your union by singing a song about a guitar player who died in a plane crash? Buddy Holly’s great and everything, but come on. Turns out they’d met to that song and so… ”

“Dad!”

“Sorry. Yeah, okay.” His dad smiled. “You know what I did? I did nothing. I stopped practising. Obviously, it was all there in my head and I was so worried I was going to fail that I was making myself fail. I put down the guitar and didn’t touch it until right before the ceremony.”

“Did it work?” Brendan asked. “Did you get it right?”

“Turns out I forgot a verse but they didn’t notice. Love tends to preoccupy people when they’re getting married. And the fact that they’re trying not to wet themselves with terror. My point is, you have to trust that you’ve done the work and let it go. Does that make sense?”

“Sure.” Brendan nodded, but inside he was disappointed. His father had no idea what the stakes were. Brendan couldn’t make any mistakes or they might be his last. There was no room for error. He didn’t want to worry his dad, though. “Thanks, Dad. I’m gonna get dressed and go out. See ya later.”

“Okay,” his dad answered, reaching for the paper. “What are you so worried about? What do you need to learn? Can I help?”

“Nothing,” Brendan replied, heading for the stairs. “Just something for school. Later, Dad.”

Brendan showered and dressed quickly, but by the time he came downstairs, the house was empty. His parents were gone. He’d called Harold and Dmitri but got their voicemail. He’d left apologetic messages for both and begged them to call him back. Pulling on his parka, he headed out the door.

He walked down the street to wait for the streetcar. BLT was content to nestle in his inner pocket out of the cold. Brendan felt his spirits rise a little bit. His breath gusted out in a white cloud. He liked the cold, and he especially liked the first big snowfall. He loved the way the entire city looked clean and fresh. He loved how all sound seemed muffled by the layer of white. He contentedly scuffed at the fluffy snow, sending puffs of flakes in front of him, savouring the squeak of the compressed snow beneath his boots. Snowflakes drifted in front of his face, and with his acute Faerie Sight he could see the intricate shape of each one. He could almost hear the tinkling as they collided with the ground.

“Beautiful,” Brendan breathed softly.

“You can keep it,” came BLT’s tiny, grumpy voice from his coat. “Cold. Wet. Blah!” She snuggled deeper.

Brendan was looking forward to spending the day doing normal (and by normal, he meant Human) things. He hadn’t been able to set aside any time for Christmas shopping. He wasn’t really sure if Faeries observed Christmas, but he decided he would get gifts for his new family, too. That meant double the gifts that he’d had to buy last year. Luckily, he had a little extra money saved.

He took the streetcar to Queen Street West and wandered in and out of the shops, searching for the right things for everyone on his list. His dad was easy: CDs. Mum was easy, too: she always wanted some new tool for the kitchen. Delia he could fob off with a gift card at a clothing store. The real difficulty was buying for his Faerie family. What did one buy as a gift for an immortal? A tie? Some tea? Nice-smelling soap?

He searched and searched but came up empty. The sun was already going down when he headed back to the subway. He was frustrated and tired from fighting the crowds, but most of all, he was a little worried. He couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody was following him. He found himself looking over his shoulder, stopping and turning around suddenly or even ducking into shops and watching the people passing by on the street. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t catch anyone tailing him. Perhaps the anxiety and pressure of the coming Challenges were making him paranoid.

He’d just decided to let go of his fears and head home on the subway when he came out onto the platform and found Charles waiting for him again.

She was leaning against a pillar, a latte in her hand, smiling.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said.

“So you were following me!”

She frowned in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Leave me alone,” Brendan said flatly, walking past her.

“But I like you,” she giggled, following him.

“Well, I don’t like you,” Brendan snarled.

“You have to get to know me,” the girl said, tossing her empty cup in a trash can. “I’m really quite fun.”

Brendan felt the rush of air that announced the arrival of the subway train. Light shone from the tunnel and the squeal of metal wheels on the tracks filled the air. He whirled, waving a finger in the girl’s face. “I’m not interested in getting to know you, and I don’t like being followed.”

Before Brendan could pull his finger away, the girl nipped his fingertip.

He yelped in pain and snatched his hand back. “You bit me.”

“It’s not polite to point!” She smiled, revealing strong white teeth.

The train arrived. Brendan stepped through the doors as they whooshed open. He turned and said angrily, “Leave me alone.”

She frowned prettily as the doors closed.

“That ain’t no way to talk to a girl.” A homeless man sitting on the train, bulging shopping bags piled around him, gave Brendan a reproachful look.

Brendan ignored him. No one else was on board so he had his pick of seats. He plunked down on a bench facing the platform, well away from the homeless man. The train started to roll. The girl jogged along until she was even with him, waving as she ran alongside. Brendan tried to ignore her. The train picked up speed. The girl kept pace, running with ease and grace. She puffed out her cheeks and pretended she was having trouble keeping up. Despite his annoyance, Brendan found her performance amusing. A small smile tugged rebelliously at the corner of his mouth.