Free Fireshaper's Doom by Tom Deitz

yo’ pappa when he sees that bodacious earbob.”
    Alec’s fingers sought automatically for the small silver cross that depended on a chain from his left earlobe. It was the only sign of flamboyance in his usually restrained appearance—that, and the thin ghost of mustache that had lately begun to grime his upper lip.
    “You gonna answer me, McLean? You’re on the spot now.”
    “Well, I guess I’ll take it off before I get there. Comb my hair over it, if it’ll go that far. Wear Clearasil on it or something till it grows over. ’Sides, my dad probably won’t notice. All he ever notices are my English grades.”
    David reached over to tweak the dangling bauble. “Dr. M. may not notice, but I bet Mama McLean does. What’s she gonna say when she finds out her foolish son’s started sporting an earring? If I were her I’d— Damn! There’s another one!”
    “Wha…? Huh? Another what?”
    “Another friggin’ Straight Track, Alec. That’s four we’ve crossed since we left Valdosta. Four—and I shouldn’t even be able to see one !”
    David’s eyes began to water and he blinked them furiously. A soft white glow flickered briefly through his shirt from the silver ring that lay upon his chest. Almost before it was visible it was gone.
    Alec twisted around in his seat, squinting out the back window at nothing. “Not even with the Sight?”
    David shook his head. “Negative. I shouldn’t be able to see them at all unless the Sidhe are using them. And Nuada told me that the Sidhe don’t use the Tracks down in south Georgia much. They only use them anyway when they need to get somewhere in a hurry, and who’d want to rush to Macon? Mortals don’t, why should the Sidhe?” His brow furrowed. “This doesn’t fit at all.”
    Alec looked perplexed. “Nothing Nuada or Oisin told you any help?”
    David shrugged. “’Fraid not. Most of what we’ve talked about is cosmology—the difference between the Worlds, and all that. A bit about the different realms of Faerie. Some history, the line between myth and reality. Lady Gregory was awfully muddled, for instance. And Kirk was even worse. The Secret Common-Wealth’s as full of holes as one of my old T-shirts…I’ve got to get that back to the fortuneteller at the fair this year, too: Xerox myself a copy and return the original.”
    Alec made no reply, but he regarded David thoughtfully.
    David noticed that stare, though he pretended not to. He knew perfectly well that Alec could see right through his flimsy efforts at redirecting the conversation, but he knew, as well, that Alec would abide by the ancient conventions of their friendship and not press him—yet. If the topic came up again, though, Alec would spare him no quarter. He’d have no choice but to admit that the sudden visibility of the Tracks was bothering him more than he was letting on. Should have kept your big mouth shut to start with, Sullivan, he told himself.
    David expertly shunted the Mustang around a sharp uphill right.
    Once around it, the treetops dropped away to their left, suddenly revealing the gut-wrenching swoop of a steep-sided valley filled with lumps of trees that looked like the lichen and moss replicas made for model railroads. It took Alec’s breath, and made David’s stomach flip-flop. Heights gave him problems, sometimes.
    A long straight followed, them a left, a right, and another left.
    David slowed. Ahead was the worst turn on the mountain, a true ninety-degree right-hander, totally blind. Beyond it was one final straight and then the gap. He began to brake for the turn, pulling the wheel hard as he downshifted into second. The tires shrilled their protest.
    They rounded the curve, entered deep shadow.
    “Look out, Sullivan!” Alec yelled abruptly.
    “Damn!”
    There was something in the middle of the road ahead, something huge and alive and extravagantly antlered.
    And it wasn’t moving.
    The ring awoke, sent pain stabbing into David’s chest—there and gone too