her composure. She clutched the field hockey stick closer, her knuckles whitening on the wood. Her shoulders trembled. Sweat ran down her face and plastered her hair to her forehead. Obviously, the strain on her was tremendous. Brendan had no idea what she was doing or how she was doing it, but he doubted she would be able to do it for much longer.
He had to help her. But how? Who were these people? How could they do these amazing things? They seemed to know him. He’d believed Kim was just an ordinary teenage girl, a high school kid like him, and now she was making trees grow out of nowhere and fighting weird women who could float in the air and shoot lightning from their bodies. What could he hope to do? And why was nobody calling the police?
Beside him, Kim gasped and the hedge contracted.
You’ve gotta do something, Brendan. He looked around him. The parking lot was behind the school, hidden from the busy street. No one was in sight. Kim gasped again. He felt desperation grip him. There has to be something I can do!
In an answer to his mental cry, a switch flipped in his mind. His vision sharpened as if someone had placed a set of goggles over his eyes that allowed him to really focus clearly. He saw each blade of grass, each leaf. He saw the texture of the flame coursing from Orcadia and realized that she was channelling the stray electrical energy from the atmosphere around her, her body like a conduit for the free electrons that might normally form bolts of lightning during a storm. He cast his vision further. He saw how fiercely Orcadia was concentrating to maintain her assault.
That’s it, Brendan realized. Break her concentration. Then we might escape. But how?
In a large oak tree just across the parking lot, he saw a flock of sparrows, crouching in the boughs, taking shelter from the storm they sensed was coming. Their tiny minds appeared to Brendan like glowing motes. It was almost as if he could sense their thoughts.
Fear. Fear. Hide. Shelter, they tittered.
Their tiny minds were so simple. Brendan recalled the squirrels he’d encountered earlier in the day. They were motivated by their quest for food. Maybe I could make a suggestion to these birds, something along the same lines.
Beside him, Kim staggered, falling to one knee. He didn’t have much time. Orcadia’s joy was palpable as she felt the end was near. He had to concentrate. He focused on the birds and sent them a single thought. Food! Food! Food!
He sensed their interest. Food?
He also sensed their fear. Storm?
Food! He concentrated harder. He tried to send them reassurance. The heat was growing and it added urgency to his message. Food! Lots of food!
Yes! Their tiny minds were excited now! Where food?
There! There! He sent them a powerful image of Orcadia’s billowing, ash-blond hair. The birds exploded from the tree, rising from the branches en masse. With a single purpose, they made a beeline for Orcadia’s head.
For her part, Orcadia was concentrating too hard to notice the birds until they struck.
“Aaaargh!” she cried. The white fire faltered and went out. She tried to bat the birds away as they pecked at her scalp, but the thought of food drove the sparrows to greater efforts.
Delighted, Brendan turned to Kim. Calling the birds had made him light-headed with fatigue but he saw that Kim was in worse shape. Her face was pale and haggard. She leaned on the field hockey stick. The hedge withered, its many branches turning to fine grey dust as Brendan watched in stupefied wonder. The wind swirled the dust away, leaving only the tiny shoot of green sprouting in the pavement, unscathed.
“Holy! That was totally sick. How did you do that?” When Brendan turned to Kim with this question, she was staring at him in a similar state of amazement.
“How did you do that?” she demanded.
“Uh, I don’t know,” Brendan answered, suddenly self-conscious. “I just kinda talked them into it.” 54
“You talked to the birds?” Kim was incredulous. “But you’ve had no training, no initiation.”
“He is gifted, indeed.” Mr. Greenleaf’s voice interrupted Kim. He strode down the school steps, neat as a pin in a green suit and yellow vest. The hummingbird perched on his shoulder, its tiny eyes full of impossible intelligence. As Brendan watched, the bird shimmered and changed into a small woman with swiftly beating wings. Her clothing was woven of iridescent feathers of green and blue. She caught Brendan’s eye and winked.
Brendan just stared. “There’s a little person on your shoulder!”
Greenleaf laughed. “This is my companion, Tiziana. You may call her Titi.” The tiny creature waved. Brendan was struck dumb with amazement.
“Can we concentrate, here,” Kim demanded. “This is a disaster. We have to get out of here.”
“We always knew he’d be special.” Greenleaf smiled at Brendan. “But, indeed, there’s no time for discussion now. You have to get him to safety. She’s occupied for now but those birds won’t distract her for long.”
“Nice of you to show up after the fight.” Kim stabbed an accusatory finger at the teacher. “This is your fault. First you show up here and stick your nose in and then your sister breaks the Ward.”
“Deirdre overstepped her bounds. I just wanted to find him but she is overeager. It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.” Greenleaf shrugged.
“Easy for you to say,” Kim snapped.
“What are you talking about?” Brendan demanded, shaking off his stupor. “Wards and Laws and all that. Somehow, you people know more about me than I do.”
“I’ll kill you all,” Orcadia shrieked, cutting in on their conversation. She tore at her hair, trying to drive away the birds.
“You must go! Take him to the Swan. He’ll be safe there.” Greenleaf’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll attempt to distract her for a time. Hopefully, I can delay her long enough for you to get away.” Mr. Greenleaf raised his hands and closed his eyes. Instantly, the wind began to quicken into a stiff breeze. In seconds the breeze became a stiff wind then a gale, whirling around Greenleaf as he stood in the centre of a funnel of dust and leaves and stray bits of paper. “Go!” he shouted over the roar of the wind.
Kim didn’t wait another instant. “C’mon.” She grabbed Brendan by the shirt and pulled him to her scooter. She jammed her field hockey stick into a saddlebag and jumped on. She drove her foot down, gunning the motor. “Get on,” she demanded.
“Why should I do anything you say?” Brendan shouted. “I don’t know what’s going on. Who are you people?”
“Certainly, who we are is important,” Kim said urgently. “But what’s more important is who you are. You are a Faerie. You’re one of us.”
“Fairy?” Brendan was confused. “What do you mean, I’m a fairy?”
“A Faerie! One of the Fair Folk,” Kim said, exasperated.
“But…” Brendan began.
Orcadia chose that moment to ignite. Brendan felt the birds’ minds wink out as they were incinerated. They dropped to the ground, lifeless and smoking in a ring around Orcadia’s feet. Brendan felt a sharp stab of shame. They were just innocent birds. He’d lied to them and now their deaths were his fault.
“Now, you will all die!” Orcadia shouted.
Greenleaf suddenly threw his arms toward Orcadia. The funnel cloud carved across the pavement and enveloped her. She shrieked, but her voice was muffled by the wind. The cloud lit up from within with flashes of lightning as she struggled to escape. The funnel cloud lifted off the ground and rocketed skyward.
“No time to explain. If you don’t want to be a dead Faerie, you’d better move your ass right now,” Kim threatened.
Brendan had no choice. He jumped onto the scooter behind Kim and wrapped his arms around her waist as she sped away.
^48 A whelp is a newborn puppy. The insinuation of the insult is that it’s somehow bad to be a newborn puppy. I don’t know about you but I like newborn puppies. Except for when they pee on the carpet, but even then, they’re kind of cute.
^49 There are several different types of Faerie Arts, what we might call Magic. The Disciplines allow Faeries to manipulate the Energy of the Earth to affect matter, mind, and even time. Weaving is one of these disciplines. A Weaver is a Faerie who has the power to manipulate magical energy. They can do this in any number of ways,
