Free The Prince of Two Tribes by Sean Cullen Page A

screw-up to his friends. He lay back and was asleep in minutes.
    Charlie stood in the shadows, watching as the light in the attic went out. It was chilly but she didn’t feel a thing.
    “He’s going to sleep,” she said softly, seemingly to herself. No one was with her in the lane. “He still does that. It’s very strange. He’s so tied to his Human habits. It’s sad but kind of sweet, too, his feelings for these people.”
    There was a rustle of wings. A hawk with snowy white plumage lighted to perch on the fence beside Charlie. The bird of prey blinked bright blue eyes and hooted softly.
    Charlie nodded. “That’s true. His attachment to his Human family is the way to get close to him.”
    The hawk flapped its broad wings and the air around it smudged and smeared. The shape of the bird stretched and its plumage darkened. The next instant, an old man stood leaning against the fence. He wore a rumpled tweed suit and a flat cap. “It’s his greatest weakness but perhaps his greatest strength, too. That’s the key to his passion. It’s what will set him apart.”
    “He’s very reluctant to let me in,” Charlie explained. “He distrusts strangers.”
    “Few could resist your charms, my dear Charles.”
    “He’s doing just fine,” she snorted, hanging her head.
    The old man raised Charlie’s chin and looked into her eyes. He smiled. “Show him how wonderful our world can be. You will succeed, I’m sure.”
    Reluctantly she nodded. “I have an idea that might work.” Her brow furrowed. “Have you found out any more about my family?”
    “No,” the old man said sadly. “I haven’t given up, but the trail is centuries old. It will take some time.
    “Now, I must be gone,” he said. “Don’t worry. You will wear him down.” As he raised his arms, his form melted down and collapsed. The bird sat in his place on the fence post. The hawk clicked its beak and rose with a powerful snap of its wings, throwing itself into the frigid night sky.
    “Yes.” She nodded and held out her bare arm. A weasellike shape stretched from her elbow to her wrist, etched into her skin with black ink. The tattoo shivered, writhed, and then detached itself from her skin, thickening and
    expanding until the creature it depicted had become a separate entity, dark as the shadows under the fence.The creature chittered softly and swarmed up her arm until it wreathed her shoulders like a living scarf. “Yes, Tweezers. It’s time to take the gloves off.”
    27  I think most brothers would agree that sisters are terrifying and to be avoided until at least the age of forty and then approached only with great caution.
    28  All Faeries have glamours or magical disguises to hide their true nature from Humans. While Greater Faeries take the Human form to move among us, as Brendan does, Lesser Faeries are forced to take on appropriate disguises for their size: mice, insects, birds, etc. BLT, being a contrary sort of individual, settled on an ugly, hairy fly, but she could have been a butterfly or a hummingbird. I think we agree that wouldn’t be in keeping with her personality.

PART 2
    The Shadow Dancer

Another Note from the Narrator
    Ha! Things are certainly heating up. Mysterious hawks in the dark of night! Sisters spying on brothers! Chocolate chip cookies! Oh, what a tangled web of intrigue and deception.
    The story is really starting to get rolling now. The pieces are in place, as it were. Who is the mysterious old man? Old men are always interesting. In stories, they fall into one of two categories: Wise Old Sage or Mad Old Weirdo. I prefer the old men characters that are a little bit of both. Old Mad Wise Weirdo has a nice ring to it.
    So, Brendan is having a crisis of sorts. He is alienating his friends and failing in his training, and an annoying girl is trying to weasel her way into his life. Little does she know he already has an annoying girl in his life.
    I have come under criticism from readers for Delia being