“He is a boy!” she yelled.
Fear raged through Miguel. His mother never yelled, not in anger. His magic boiled in his belly. His t-shirt suddenly glowed as if lit up by a spotlight, and the adults all turned towards him, mouths gaping. There was no stopping his power, not now. He quickly turned towards the ocean and belched loudly. A hot burst of air gusted out, but his magic continued to rumble deep inside. Heat raced up his chest, and now his t-shirt seemed as bright as the sun.
He opened his mouth, expecting a massive belch. Instead, flames roared out of his mouth, a stream of fire he was certain would have destroyed anything in its path, including the adults, had he not been facing the ocean. The breeze blew some of the heat back and he recoiled, finally able to shut off the flames. Reaching up he touched his face. It was cool. He stared at his t-shirt. The glow had faded. He was certain he would see scorch marks, but he saw no damage.
“That’s—not—possible!” his mother stammered.
He glanced at the adults. All of them appeared in shock, even Balor.
“What was that?” he whispered, but none of them would answer.
His mind whirred. Everything that had happened since the Day of the Dead spun, settling into place like pieces of some giant mechanical contraption. As each piece found its position, the realm of possibilities shrank. His magic. The scale. The winged shadow. His mother’s reactions. Balor and his alternate reality. The vision.
The contraption was almost complete, except for two pieces. His mother and Balor. He looked at them, afraid to ask the question of each he needed to know to finish the puzzle, to know who he was, to know the truth. But there was something else missing, something not here. No, not something. Someone.
He looked at Balor and Aibell. “Where’s Aileen? You both have magic. Why isn’t she here?”
The couple remained silent, glancing at each other, and he understood.
“She’s not your daughter, is she? I mean, she’s adopted, right? She’d have to be, because she doesn’t have magic. But why is she important?”
“Miguel,” began Aibell, “She is our daughter, in all but birth…”
He turned on Balor, pointing a finger accusingly. “You used her to get to me! You made certain we would meet at that party. Somehow, you knew we’d be…friends! No wonder she doesn’t like you!”
Instead of answering him, Balor turned to his mother.
“Your son is a very smart boy, Maeve. He’s far closer to the truth than even I expected, and his magic is even greater than I had hoped. You cannot deny it.”
“Be the one to tell him, Maeve,” Aibell pleaded.
His mother stared at him, her face stoic, but fear in her eyes.
“Mom,” he began as gently as he could while reaching his hands for hers. She gripped them painfully hard. “Balor says we have enemies who are going to hurt us if we do nothing. You and dad have always taught me to stand up to bullies, that it’s the right thing to do. I don’t know why we have magic, but we do. We need to use our power and help. Why are you so afraid, mom? I’m not.”
She pulled away, turning towards the cliff’s edge. For long moments, she stood there, her back to them, then finally turned, her eyes meeting his.
“His name is not Balor Foley any more than mine is Maeve Martinez. No, my last name is Martinez, but Maeve is who I’ve become. I’ve been her for so long that I’ve buried who I was when I lived here.”
His stomach clenched. “You’re not making any sense, mom.”
“The last time I was here, my brothers and I were diving for fish. Actually, I was catching puffins. That afternoon, our innocence ended. Our parents were doomed and we left to begin a new path, a violent path.” She nodded towards Balor. “He was at the heart of it. I still don’t understand how. When I finally reached the convent, I thought I’d forgiven him, but my heart burns at the sight of him. I don’t want you or Carlos or Isabel to lose that innocence, Miguel, but you will if you go with him.”
He glanced at his mentor, hoping Balor would explain his mother’s cryptic answer, but the one-eyed man stared at the ground, one armed wrapped around his wife’s shoulders. Aibell’s large eyes drooped, sadder than he’d ever seen them. Then his mother took his chin in her hand.
“Miguel Ciaran, no matter what, know that I love you with every bit of my being, and I am so proud to be your mother. I feel the same about your brother and sister, and my heart truly belongs to your father. But I have hidden an important truth from all of you. My name is Wu Zhao and I am not human. I am a dragon.”
Had he not seen Balor’s vision, he would have laughed at her joke. Instead, he felt as if the key to the mechanical contraption of this puzzle of who he was had been turned. All that remained was for the door to be opened. He nodded approvingly at his mom. Then shock hit his gut.
I am a dragon! Or, at least, a half dragon! His magic suddenly made sense, but the mere thought of what he was seemed impossible, yet it was the only answer that fit the puzzle. His crazy orange hair, his strange Chinese eyes, and all the weird things that had been happening to him for the past several months all fit. He was finally a round peg in a round hole. But there was still one piece left. He looked at Balor. His mentor no longer stared at the ground, but instead smiled at him.
“So who—or what—are you, Balor?”
“My name, at least until I became Aileen’s father, was Tigano, and I too am not human.”
Suddenly, a pair of what appeared to be dragonfly wings sprouted from his mentor’s back, and he took a startled step away. The wings were a thin, black membrane with solid frame, and their span must have been seven feet or more.
“I am a faery, as is my wife.”
As Miguel turned his attention to Aibell, wings burst from her back like a flower blossoming. Hers rose up above her head like the wings of butterflies, delicate and dark blue, with black veins creating an intricate pattern.
“You are no changeling!” his mother said to Aibell accusingly, and he frowned, unable to make sense of what she was talking about.
“I have made sacrifices every bit as great as yours, Maeve. I have lost a father to the cold of the Olympics. I have taken part in an abhorrent magic that gained a daughter who seems to despise me. And now I am mortal. I have done this to save my people, Maeve, to save them from a bitter, maniacal tyrant who has only grown more powerful since you last faced him the day you created our prison. But no, I am not a changeling.”
“How?” his mother asked skeptically. “How could you live this close to me and I not sense either of you?”
Aibell appeared abashed, but he could sense courage and pride in her as well. He did not understand all of what the adults were talking about, but he did understand where Aileen had learned her fierce independence.
“It was Raven who suggested it, but I was the one who pushed for it. There is an ancient faery magic, Maeve, very powerful but long forbidden. My husband tried it once before, and it nearly destroyed us. But my people are dying, those few who have repented of Finaarva’s wickedness, and I could see no other way.”
“What magic? What did you do?”
“If a faery switches a baby, whether for another faery baby or a human baby, it unlocks a very powerful but very dangerous magic. Oberon forbid it before we originally left Ireland, but Raven showed me how it could work, how I could hide from the spirits, the Skookum, and even you. He showed me how my husband could reach this alternate reality. He even showed us how the blood of a dragon could open a return path to Faery, one that could last just long enough for our people to escape.”
“You fool!” his mother hissed. “Raven is not called The Trickster without good reason!”
“I know,” Aibell said sadly. “Now you know how great our desperation is. Tigano tried to approach Bear and Whale, but Salmon would not allow him near, especially when Thunderbird had been gone for so long. Raven appeared to us in the night, saying he knew of a baby in Ireland, but sacrifices would have to be made. One of my husband’s
last surviving changelings was dying. Raven blinded the Skookum so the three of us could escape Mt. Olympus, gave us magic so we could fly to Eire. There we took Aileen from her crib and disguised the changeling to appear as her. Aileen’s birth parents never knew. He died only a day or two later, and they grieved, not understanding their baby’s sudden death, but they moved on, and we moved to New Mexico. Close enough to you to raise our daughter, but without drawing your attention.”
An awkward silence fell. While he still didn’t understand all of what Aibell had said, the final piece was in place and the door open. Balor, or whatever his name was, and his wife stood not looking at anyone, but allowing their wings to stay open, reminding him that none of the adults were human, that he was not fully human.
Not fully human. I am half dragon! The very thought thrilled him. Not with the pleasure of power he could wield over others, but the joy of understanding why he was different. There was a reason for his magic. His mom might not like it, but Balor recognized his purpose.
“Show me, Mom. I want to see what you really look like.”
“No.”
It was the same adamant denial when she refused to allow him to take the bus downtown on his own. Carlos would push her until she threatened to ground him, but he had always accepted her veto without question. This time, however, it was different. This time, there was something at stake.
“Why? What are you afraid of?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Balor and Aibell’s heads both look up suddenly, but he focused on his mother.
“Are you afraid I’ll change into a dragon too?”
Her lips tightened. This was the moment she’d ground him. He drew himself up as tall as he could. She always backed down whenever his dad did that.
It seemed to work. At least somewhat, anyways.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Miguel. I need you to protect your brother and sister. I need you to stay with your father.”
“Are you going to help us?” Balor asked. Miguel was certain his mentor sounded surprised.
“But mom!” he protested. “I can help! I want to do this!”
She turned on him, her lips tight once more.
“You are just a boy. My boy. This enemy is too cunning and too dangerous. I will not let you anywhere near him.”
“He can do it, Maeve,” Balor said, and a bit of pride swelled in Miguel at his mentor’s words. However, fury darkened his mother’s face.
“Would you let Aileen anywhere near those faeries? Would you even let Aibell? Can you rouse the spirits? Can you even get past the Skookum? This is my responsibility, given to me by Oberon and Ao Shun. Thunderbird will fly over Mt. Olympus again, and I’ll find a way to awaken the Dragon Pearl once more. Now return us to Tucson!”
Balor shook his head, however.
“You cannot do it alone, Maeve. You need my help. Maybe between the two of us, we just might succeed. My wife was right, though. Finaarva has grown stronger than ever, and the old magic that confines him is weak. Igniting the Dragon Pearl may break the prison. Just your blood being that close may do the same. So might rousing the spirits. Miguel’s magic is strong, likely stronger than any of ours. His power is the unexpected stratagem, the twist Finaarva doesn’t expect. He’s young and untested, but his potential is beyond even my expectations, and my expectations for him were high.”
“Your help?” his mother sneered. “What is it you really want, Tigano? Do you expect me to believe you seek redemption? Or do you think me fool enough to not know you will betray me?”
“Maeve!” Aibell said firmly, and they all turned to look at her. There was a brief silence until she blurted, “Do we have a choice?”
For a long time, his mother stared at the other two, her face inscrutable.
Finally, she answered. “Return us, Balor, or Tigano. We have been here long enough.”
Chapter 26
The Boy
Getting out of bed and dragging himself into the bathroom on Monday morning was as difficult as anything he’d ever done. At least, it seemed that way as he rubbed sleep from his eyes, his figure still blurry in the mirror. No gentle early morning whisper from his mom telling him to shut off the alarm on his cell, and certainly no shouts from her reminding him he only had 20 minutes until the bus came.
His orange hair fought his brush more than usual today. It didn’t just stand up, it stuck out backwards and sideways. He groaned. Would Aileen still like him after Saturday?
His mom had been as pale as a ghost when Balor had returned them to reality and she’d insisted they go home immediately, although his dad had calmed her down enough to stay for an hour or so. Balor had been perfectly amiable with his dad while Àibell had kept close to his mom, whispering often to her as if they were old school buddies. He was certain they’d spoken of this other life he’d suddenly been thrust into, but he had not overheard a word.
Aileen had grabbed his hand possessively as they’d walked through the throngs and tables of food along her street, following their parents at a distance. He’d tried inquiring about her parents, struggling to ask if she knew they were faeries or that she was not their birth child. How could he ask that of a human? She’d kept looking at him strangely, as if his questions were bizarre. Which they were, he had to admit. He was half dragon. He wasn’t fully human. Or was he?
Within five minutes of returning, he’d realized no time had passed for his dad or Aileen while he’d experienced the pirate vision or the alternate reality. They were fully human; how could they understand? Since then, he’d pestered his mom at every opportunity, hoping to grasp better who he really was.
“What’s it like to be a dragon?” he’d asked while helping his mom cook Saturday’s dinner. Dad and Carlos had taken Isabel to the park.
“Chop the carrots, dear,” had been her only response.
Grandpa Gad and Grandma Sabina had stopped by after Sunday Mass. Grandpa plopped Isabel on his lap to watch a cartoon about princesses and unicorns while Grandma plunked herself in a deck chair watching his dad and Carlos splashing each other in the pool. He’d followed his mom upstairs, ostensibly to change into his swim trunks.
As soon as they’d reached the landing, he’d asked, “So, mom, where you really a pirate? Did you ever meet Jack Sparrow?” It was supposed to be a joke, but her only response was a glare.
“Go play in the pool, dear,” she finally said.
He wanted to know her entire life history, especially when she’d been a dragon. He needed to make sense of the truth of what he was. He wanted the answers Balor couldn’t give him.
Sunday night, as his dad had been doing laundry and Carlos was finally finishing his weekend homework, he’d cornered his mom again, this time as she put Isabel to bed.
Closing his sister’s door so no one could overhear, he’d grilled her.
“Mom, why did you become human? Do you ever change back into a dragon, like at night? Why haven’t you been back to check on the faery prison? Do you think I can turn into a dragon?”
She’d stiffened with the first question, her back to him as she pulled Isabel’s jumper off. With his last question, she’d picked his sister up, holding her tightly as she’d turned around. Her face had been stern, yet as tender as he’d ever seen it.
“Our family is more important to me than anything else in this world, Miguel. My past is a faded dream. Today—you and your sister—is what matters to me. The cliff where I grew up…the cliff you saw…was a place I loved until the moment my parents were lost. After that, I knew only hate and revenge. There is no more horrible place to be, Miguel. I did not become myself again until the nuns in Ireland reminded me what love is. I have felt whole since then. Now hate and revenge want me back. I know what I must do, but I fear what I’ll become if I do it.”
“Mom…” he tried to say. He’d heard this speech about family many times growing up, but this time it’d been personal for her. He’d tried to say he was sorry and hug her, but she’
d waved him off as she slipped Isabel into her jammies.
With her back to him, she’d said, “I will do whatever it takes to protect you and our family. Now go ask impertinent questions of your dad.”
He’d reluctantly turned away, dragging himself to the TV where his dad was folding clothes. When his mom had joined them, she was more cheerful than ever, although he’d been certain her perkiness was forced.
She hadn’t come to his room to kiss him goodnight, but as he lay on his side with the light off, he’d heard the door open and had been certain she’d stared at his back before finally leaving without a word.
Now he leaned against the bathroom counter, staring into the mirror at his bright hair, his strange Chinese eyes peering back at him.
What are you going to do, Miguel Ciaran Martinez? his reflection seemed to ask. Fear tickled his gut. His shirt glowed faintly and his esophagus grew warm. Opening his mouth wide, he tried to peek down his throat. It wasn’t dark. He imagined how Burton Peña would squeal if he saw the unearthly gleam. The thought made him smile and he wiggled his fingers. Purple-tinged lightning flickered on his fingertips.
I am going to fight. I am going to show mom what I can do.
He wiggled his fingers a bit more, the lightning jumping from one hand to the other. The more he played with his magic, the more certain he was he could control it. Suddenly, his orange hair didn’t matter, nor his green Chinese eyes.
I must convince mom I can do this!
He rushed to the kitchen, not bothering with his socks. Only, his mom wasn’t scrambling eggs on the stove or setting a plate of bacon on the table. His dad stood there instead, mouth agape, one hand at his side dangling a piece of paper. He started, recognizing his mom’s stationary.
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