by Sean Cullen
“Hey,” Brendan said. Then louder, “Hey!” He waved his hand in front of the boy’s face but he didn’t react.
“What’s the matter?” Brendan asked. “Are you okay?”
“This is a Faerie glamour,” BLT said, climbing out of Brendan’s pocket. “It’s a powerful one, too. Can’t you sense it?”
Brendan closed his eyes and concentrated. He did sense it, a tingle of energy or ambient power like a charge of static electricity hanging in the air.
“You’re right,” Brendan said softly. He opened his eyes. The boy was still staring dreamily into space. Brendan felt confident the boy wasn’t in any danger of hurting himself, but just to be sure, he took him by the arm and gently forced him to sit on the tile floor with his back to the wall. Satisfied, Brendan left the bathroom.
The hall was full of people in the same state of bemusement. Students and teachers shared the same vacant gaze, their eyes slightly unfocused as if they were straining to see a speck of dust on the tips of their noses. Brendan made his way up the hall, weaving through them as he sought out the source of the glamour. He could feel a current of energy in the air that led him on as though he were a piece of iron seeking a magnet. As he walked down the hall, he passed Chester Dallaire outside the library doors. The large boy stood, eyes half closed. Brendan glanced at Chester’s face as he walked by, wondering who had caused this mass dream state.
The current led him down the main hall and into the principal’s office. At the front desk, Miss Conacher, the secretary, sat looking blankly at her pen while a female student stood in dreamy silence holding a doctor’s note limply in her hand. Brendan walked past them and into the open door of Ms. Abernathy’s office.
The vice-principal sat behind her desk. Her mouth hung open. She was staring into space, her glasses slightly askew, but otherwise seemed unharmed. She wasn’t alone in the room. Standing at the window with his back to Brendan was a tall, slight Faerie in a finely tailored, shimmering blue suit. His chestnut hair hung loose over his shoulders.
“Ah,” the Faerie said musically, without taking his eyes off the vice-principal. “You are here. How lovely.”
“What’s going on?” Brendan demanded. “Who are you? What have you done to them?”
The Faerie turned lazily around to face Brendan.
Tall and lean, he radiated power, setting Brendan’s nerves jangling. It was like standing next to a massive electrical transformer. The Faerie’s face was beautiful, but there was a cruel twist to his smile as he gazed at Brendan with coldly amused brown eyes.
“You’re… ”
“Lord Pukh.” The Faerie smiled, bowing deeply. “At your service, Brendan Morn.” Without waiting for Brendan to respond, Pukh spread his arms and did a little spin. “What do you think? It’s an Armani. The fabric and workmanship are not quite up to my usual standard but the Humans have certainly made strides.”
“What have you done to them?” Brendan demanded again. He felt ridiculous and powerless next to Pukh, but he tried to keep the fear from his voice.
“Don’t worry.” Pukh waved dismissively. “They are quite safe. Their senses are fogged with glamours. For them, the moment is frozen. They will remember nothing. They’ll wake up quite refreshed, in fact. Your concern for them is touching, though. Like a child caring for his pets.”
“They aren’t pets,” Brendan said angrily. “They’re people.”
“Well, I’d disagree with you there, I’m afraid. They make a mess everywhere they go. They are ignorant of the true nature of the world, like animals. And I must say, they have a very unpleasant stink. I’m sure you’re used to it by now, having lived among them for so long.”
“They are cute,” a childish voice lisped. Brendan whirled to see the tiny female Faerie who had ridden at Pukh’s side the night before stroking the hair of the secretary, Miss Conacher. “So fragile.” The stroking hand sprouted long, razor-sharp claws and she drew their tips along the secretary’s vulnerable throat.
“Stay away from her.” Brendan took a step to intervene, but suddenly his wrist was clamped in a powerful grip. He turned to find that it was the tall, silver-haired Faerie he’d seen at the head of the Wild Hunt the night before.
This guy was fast. Brendan hadn’t even sensed his approach. He was just there, looming over Brendan with his silver head brushing the ceiling. Brendan looked up into the cold grey eyes and saw no spark of Human emotion. He’s a Warp Warrior, Brendan thought with some dread.
“Don’t touch me,” Brendan said evenly, grateful that his voice didn’t crack.
“Lugh! Maya!” Pukh’s voice intervened. “Don’t be rude. These are Brendan’s people, though why he should consort with People of Metal when he is a Prince of the Fair Folk is quite beyond my understanding.”
Brendan ignored the comments, though inside he seethed with anger at the insult to his friends and family. “Why are you here?”
The Faerie sauntered around the desk toward Brendan. “Why, to see you, of course. You are the talk of the Faerie world, young Brendan. Everyone wants to know about you. Even I, in the Hidden Kingdom of Tir na nOg, have heard of you. The Faerie who prefers the People of Metal to his own Folk.”
“You shouldn’t be here. My Human friends and family are off limits.”
Pukh’s eyes darkened. For an instant, Brendan saw something reptilian stir behind the beautiful mask of his face. Just as quickly, Pukh composed himself, and the darkness passed. “You really can’t expect to tell me what to do, Brendan. I am quite simply beyond your ability to command. But you needn’t be so angry.” The Ancient Faerie smiled and chucked him under the chin as if he were a little child. “I merely wished to see what you found so attractive in this Human world. Frankly, I understand how a sentimental attachment might develop, but look at these creatures.” He threw out an arm to encompass the school. “You aren’t like them. As I said, I don’t know how you can bear the smell.” Pukh laughed lightly.
Brendan clenched his fists in rage. Pukh was one of the most stunning people he’d ever seen. His presence inspired awe. When he’d first entered the room, Brendan had been tempted to fall to his knees like a supplicant. Yes, Pukh was beautiful, but his words sickened Brendan.
“I’ll say this again because you didn’t seem to hear me the first time: they aren’t pets. They are people. My people.”
Pukh laughed again. “Then why am I here? I have come to judge you at your Proving. I thought this meant you wanted to be a member of your true family and a part of the Faerie world. Am I wrong?”
Brendan didn’t know what to say. Pukh was right. The Ancient Faerie smirked, seeing he’d scored a hit. Pukh opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the arrival of Greenleaf and Kim.
They barged into the outer office ready for a confrontation. Lugh and Maya instinctively interposed themselves between the new arrivals and Pukh.
“Leave Brendan alone,” Kim snarled, her stick levelled.
“This is an outrage,” Greenleaf spat. Brendan had never seen his teacher show such strong emotion. He looked ready for physical violence, his grey eyes alight with fury. “Release these people immediately.”
“No need for hysterics,” Pukh tutted, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms. “They aren’t in any discomfort.”
“You know this is not permitted, interfering with Humans in any way. Even you in your isolated little princedom are aware of the Pact and the rules we must follow if we are to survive.”
“I was there when the Pact was struck, lest you forget, Greenleaf. We fought on different sides on that day, but I hope you’ll let those old grudges rest. Just as you and your sister have set aside your differences.”
Greenleaf didn’t answer. With a barely perceptible nod from Pukh, Lugh and Maya stepped aside, allowing Greenleaf and Kim to join Brendan.
Kim turned to Brendan. “Are you all right?” Her face was full of concern. Brendan was reminded of the kiss last night and blushed.
“I’m fi
ne. We were just talking.”
“Good.”
“Disperse this glamour immediately and get away from here,” Greenleaf demanded.
Pukh stood up to his full height and his head seemed to brush the ceiling. Underlying the exquisite face was dire threat. The temperature in the room dropped as if a window had been opened onto the frigid winter. “You have no power to tell me where to go or what to do,” he said, his voice heavy with menace. Brendan took an involuntary step back, disgusted by his own cowardice.
Pukh seemed to sense he’d tipped his hand a little too much. The darkness faded from his face and the atmosphere lightened. In the blink of an eye, the cheerful smile returned to his perfect mouth. “Let’s not fight, my friends. I beg your indulgence. I am not accustomed to the Human world and perhaps I overstepped my bounds. This Clan Gathering is a happy occasion. Let’s not spoil it with recriminations, hmmm?”
Pukh casually stepped between Kim and Greenleaf and walked out of Ms. Abernathy’s office. “Come along.” He gestured and his mismatched companions fell in behind him. Maya brushed past Kim and sneered. Kim returned the sneer with interest. Kim and Greenleaf followed the trio warily with Brendan bringing up the rear.
Out in the main hall, Pukh paused and looked about him at the students standing looking blankly into space. He shook his head. “So this is where the People of Metal teach their children? A school they call it. How can they have such places and still remain so ignorant of the world all around them? They know enough to destroy the Earth but not to sustain her.” He sighed theatrically and strolled toward the doors at the end of the hall.
Brendan looked around at the people in the hall and felt something nagging at the edge of his perception. Something was different. He scanned the hallway but couldn’t figure it out.
Pukh reached the doors and turned. He smiled at them and sketched a bow. “Lovely to see where you spend your days, Brendan. Most enlightening, if not inspiring. I shall see you all later at the Gathering. I look forward to judging your Proving.” Opening the door, he let Lugh and Maya pass through. Then, he casually spoke a word Brendan didn’t understand and passed an open hand before his eyes as if waving away a fly.
Immediately, everyone began to move and talk, picking up conversations in mid-sentence. The entire school came to life without any awareness that they’d been standing in a daze for the past quarter hour. Brendan stood dumbfounded as the students went about their business, girls in giggling groups, boys trying as always to look as cool as possible and failing, all of them completely unaware that their lives had been interrupted.
“No sporting equipment in the halls.” Ms. Abernathy’s brittle voice jarred Brendan out of his thoughts. The viceprincipal stood in the doorway of her office, hands on hips. “I have warned you before. Don’t think because it’s the last day of school before the holidays I won’t keep you for detention tonight.”
Kim lowered her stick. “Yes, Ms. Abernathy. I’m sorry.”
Ms. Abernathy nodded curtly and retreated to her office.
“That guy, Pukh,” Brendan said, “he’s a piece of work.”
“He’s always been what we call a Rogue Spirit,” Greenleaf said mildly.
“He’s what I would call a psychopath,” Brendan remarked.
Kim stuffed her stick into her backpack with practised ease. “He has no respect for authority.”
“In Tir na nOg, he is the authority. He answers to no one,” Greenleaf explained, his eyes on the door where Pukh had disappeared.
Brendan suddenly didn’t want to be in school or anywhere near other people. “I’m going home.”
“They won’t be back, Brendan.” Kim looked concerned.
“I’m not worried about that,” Brendan said.
“You’ll miss the Christmas assembly,” Greenleaf pointed out.
“Well, much as I’d like to hear some Christmas carols sung by the Robertson Davies Academy Glee Club,” Brendan announced, “I think I may just go home early.”
“I’ll tell Ms. Abernathy you were feeling a little under the weather,” Mr. Greenleaf offered.
“You won’t be lying,” Brendan said with a pained expression. “See you tonight.”
Brendan headed for the door. Passing the library, he suddenly realized what had been bothering him.
What happened to Chester? He was standing right there when I went into the office, but he wasn’t there when I came out. That’s weird.
He shrugged and pushed his way through the doors and into the cold. Just one more thing that I can’t explain or do anything about.
He headed for home.
^ 51 On a side note, I wonder why UFOs always appear to people of doubtful credibility-drunk men, the insane, hillbillies, etc. If aliens really wanted to abduct humans and experiment on them, why wouldn’t they abduct articulate people who might elucidate them on the finer points of humanity? Why not abduct authors, scientists, or (yes, it must be said, though I disdain the limelight) narrators like myself? I would like nothing more than to be abducted by interstellar travellers and spend some idle hours shooting the breeze with them telepathically. Let this be your invitation, Starpeople! I will be waiting in an empty field just outside of Poughkeepsie, New York, after 7 P.M. each Wednesday.
^ 52 Though such advice seems obvious, thousands of children are stuck to cold metal pipes by their tongues each year. Please give generously to “Don’t Lick It, Kids!,” a non-profit organization that I have founded.
^ 53 I have to say, I sympathize with Brendan on this point. The washroom is not a place for chatting. One should be allowed to evacuate one’s bladder in peace without any casual conversation or distractions.
NEMESIS
Harold and Dmitri had decided to take the day off. They were both exhausted by their vigil over the past few nights. In the end, Harold had just crashed on a futon in Dmitri’s room. He’d already called his parents and told them that he’d be spending the night. Delia had gone home but made them promise they would meet at noon to confront the person Harold believed was the nemesis.
Dmitri had managed to calm his babka after she burst in on them in the shed. She kept babbling about Princes and Enemies and Little People until Dmitri finally convinced her to lie down on her daybed in the living room. He made her some tea and toast, but by the time he carried them into the living room, she was asleep as if nothing had happened. Dmitri left the tray on the coffee table and went up to bed himself.
Noon found the three conspirators in the BQM Eatery on Ossington Street. Harold had suggested it because he knew that the nemesis lived nearby. They could stake out the streetcar stop. Also, he was quite fond of their burgers. They sat on stools, faces to the window with an eye on the transit shelter across the road.
“How do we know this guy’s going to come?” Delia said. She picked at a salad with a plastic fork. “How do we even know he is the nemesis or whatever? How do we know that the old lady isn’t completely nuts?”
“That isn’t very nice,” Dmitri said sulkily.
“She has a point, though,” Harold admitted. “I just think this is the guy. I can’t think of anybody else who fits the bill.”
“So when will we see him?” Delia asked. “Are you sure he’ll come here?”
“I take my piano lessons nearby,” Harold said through a mouthful of low-fat turkey burger. “I ride the same streetcar as he does lots of times. He always got out here. His mum works in the Pizzeria Libretto across the road.”
“Why do you know all that?” Delia wondered.
Harold shrugged. “I dunno. I’m an artist. Or at least I want to be an artist and one of the things artists are supposed to do is observe people. You know.”
“So he comes here to meet his mum,” Delia said. “What if she isn’t working today?”
“She is,” Dmitri interjected. “I called and asked for her an hour ago. I hung up when they went to call her to the phone.”
“Wow.” Delia nodded, impressed. “You guys are good. And a
little bit creepy.”
Before Harold could respond, Dmitri sat up higher on his stool and exclaimed, “There he is!”
Their eyes swung to the other side of the street, where a streetcar had just stopped. The door opened and passengers stepped down onto the road. An old woman was struggling with a shopping cart in the narrow folding doorway when a large, broad-shouldered boy lifted the cart and carried it to the curb for her. The old lady smiled and said something to the boy, who merely nodded and turned toward the BQM window.
Chester Dallaire had changed a great deal since the bizarre episode that had made news headlines. He was leaner and his skin was clearer. His hair was neatly trimmed. The cruel smirk he’d habitually worn when he picked on Harold and Dmitri during their first weeks at RDA was gone. His expression was guarded and his eyes wary.
“That’s the nemesis?” Delia asked. “I was expecting someone… I don’t know, scarier?”
“He was indeed more frightening before the incident,” Dmitri explained.
“Incident?” Delia asked.
“He had some kinda breakdown and ran away. Wouldn’t stop running,” Harold told her. “They say it was like he was possessed or something. It was on the news.”
“That’s the guy?” Delia cried in disbelief. “I remember that story. He doesn’t look crazy.”
“He had therapy and he’s only just come back to school,” Harold said.
“He used to pick at Brendan and us,” Dmitri continued. “But now he’s a different person.”
“Pick on us,” Delia mumbled. “Okay, let’s go.”
“What?” Harold cried. “Go where? What are you gonna do? Just walk right up to him and ask him if he’s the nemesis of Brendan? You’ll sound totally crazy.”
Delia shrugged on her coat. “You guys stay here and try not to wet your pants, okay? Just leave it to me.”
While they were talking, Chester had entered the pizzeria. Delia took her time, crossing at the light and entering the restaurant through the steam-glazed glass door.
