Illusions

  “Don’t worry,” Tamani said. “I’ve got it all figured out. No more troll ambushes. No more last-minute rescues by persons of questionable integrity. We’ll have two squads shadowing us all night, in addition to the ones behind your house, watching the cabin, making rounds through the city, watching traffic on the 101 and the 199, plus reserves standing by.”

  Laurel stared at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. “How many sentries are here now?”

  “About two hundred.”

  Two hundred!

  “I’m done playing games,” Tamani said darkly. “We had two squads in Crescent City when Barnes tried to grab you and David last year. We had three behind your house when he lured them off and snatched Chelsea. There were almost a hundred sentries in place two months ago and we still had trolls ambush us within a mile of your house. Any troll that tries to crash this party will be dead before it lays eyes on you.”

  “Or Yuki,” Laurel added.

  “Or Yuki,” Tamani agreed. “Or Chelsea, or anyone. It doesn’t matter who they’re after. The only thing I want trolls doing in Crescent City is dying.”

  “Does that mean Shar is going to raid the cabin?” Laurel didn’t like talking so directly about killing—even trolls—but she had to admit she wasn’t feeling very sympathetic lately. Absently, she picked up a petal—one of her own—from a decorative silver bowl on the counter. Her mother had preserved several with hairspray and left them out where the sun could hit them, lending a hint of their beautiful perfume to the kitchen air.

  “He keeps saying we should wait. I hate waiting,” Tamani said, “but I doubt he’ll wait much longer. It’s been almost a month and we haven’t learned anything.”

  “Maybe we can start a club,” Laurel said ruefully. “I haven’t learned anything useful about the powder, either.”

  “What about the phosphorescent?”

  “Honestly? I haven’t tried anything new since I mixed it with your sap. I think individual faeries of the same season might differ as much as faeries of different seasons. I’d probably have to test half of Avalon before I could draw useful conclusions.”

  Realizing she was digging her fingernails into the petal, Laurel forced herself to relax. She’d left four little half-moon gouges in the otherwise unblemished field of blue. Dropping it back into the bowl, Laurel rubbed her fingers together, wiping away the tiny droplet of moisture that hadn’t yet dried out of the preserved petal.

  She paused for a second, and then rubbed her fingers again.

  “No way,” she whispered, almost to herself, half forgetting that Tamani was even in the room.

  He started to talk, but she held up one finger and concentrated on the essence that lingered at the tips of her fingers. It had to be. She was amazed she hadn’t figured it out before.

  Talk about the answer being right under your nose.

  Snatching the petal back out of the bowl, Laurel bounded out of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time. She pulled her last dish of blue powder forward and forced herself to breathe evenly.

  “Is everything all right?” Tamani asked, appearing in her doorway.

  “I’m fine,” she said, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She licked her finger and collected a few grains of the blue powder. She rubbed them against the fingers on her other hand. The sensation was almost identical.

  “What—”

  “The main ingredient of the powder. The one I’ve been looking for. The flowering tree. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. I even knew it was possible,” she said. “I knew after you kissed me that day, that faeries could be used as ingredients, and I never even considered—”

  “Laurel!” Tamani said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “What is it?”

  Laurel held up the long, light-blue petal she’d taken from the bowl. “It’s this,” she said, hardly believing the words coming out of her own mouth. “It’s faerie blossom.”

  “But . . . Yuki hasn’t blossomed—at least, not since we started hanging out. If she had . . .” Tamani wiggled his fingers, where telltale pollen would have exposed Yuki’s secret. “Unless she’s a Spring or Summer, there’s no way that blossom is hers.”

  “I don’t know,” Laurel interjected. “There’s something about this powder. I think—” Laurel forced herself to relax, trying to trust her intuition, no matter how it horrified her. “I think the petals have to be fresh. Not dried or wilted. . . . Tamani, somebody cut these petals off,” she said, the macabre proclamation sending a shiver up her back. Cutting tiny pieces from her own blossom had stung; losing a fourth of it to a troll attack had hurt for days. She couldn’t imagine how badly it would hurt to cut off the entire blossom—but a warding large enough to hide a cabin in the forest would need that many petals.

  “Cutting off a blossom would still leave some kind of . . . texture. I felt Yuki’s back very carefully when we were at the autumn dance and there was nothing but skin there. So even if she is the Fall faerie who made this, the blossom couldn’t have come from her.”

  Was that hope in his voice? Laurel tried not to think too hard about that. Hadn’t she, at one point, hoped for Yuki’s innocence herself? “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would she make a hideout for trolls? I thought they were after her!”

  Tamani was quiet for a moment. “What do we know about Klea? For sure, I mean.”

  “She likes guns,” Laurel said. “And she’s got those stupid sunglasses she never takes off.”

  “Why would anyone wear sunglasses all the time?” Tamani asked.

  “To hide your eyes . . . ,” Laurel said, realization dawning.

  “And you said there would be no way to hide a blossom under the fitted clothing she wears, but—”

  “But if she cut it off, she would have nothing to hide.” Klea. A faerie. Laurel’s mind was racing now. Faerie poison had been used to make her dad sick. Faerie blood had been used to lure Laurel’s sentries away last year. And now there were trolls showing up who were immune to faerie magic. There was evidence of faerie intervention thrust deeply into everything that had happened to her over the last two years. The thought made Laurel’s stomach churn. Everything had been so much simpler when she could tell friend from foe just by looking at them. But when your enemy’s face could practically be the one you looked at in the mirror every day . . . ?

  “If she’s working with the trolls, why did she kill Barnes?” Tamani asked, talking as much to himself as to her.

  “Barnes said he made a deal with a devil,” Laurel said, recalling the troll’s strange words. “That’s exactly how a troll would see working with a faerie. What if he tried to go back on his deal?”

  Tamani nodded. “And if for some reason Klea wanted you alive—which she must, because she’s had plenty of opportunity to kill you—”

  “She’d have to protect me by finishing him off,” Laurel said, half in shock. “And if she saved my life, maybe I would be more likely to . . . what? Help her with something? Barnes was trying to get to Avalon. What kind of faerie would want to get a bunch of trolls into Avalon?”

  “The kind with a grudge,” Tamani said darkly, pulling his iPhone out of his pocket. “I think we need to seriously consider the possibility that Yuki is nothing but a distraction, that there are no troll hunters, and that the trolls have been working for Klea all along.”

  “But . . . a distraction from what? What is she after?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tamani, putting his phone to his ear. “But I think it’s long past time for us to find out what she’s keeping in that cabin.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  LAUREL KNELT ON THE FLOOR, SCRUBBING OUT THE bottom of her locker with a wet paper towel—something every student had to do before leaving for winter break. Technically she was required to clean it with the can of heavy-duty cleaner, but that stuff wasn’t exactly faerie-friendly. Besides, the teachers didn’t watch very closely. If anything, they were more anxious for winter break than their students.


  “Hey, slowpoke, let’s go!” Chelsea said teasingly. “You have to come over and help me pick out a dress!”

  Laurel smiled her apology. “I’m almost done,” she said, gesturing at her locker.

  “You want some help?” Chelsea asked, reaching for a roll of paper towels that had been left in the hall for them by the janitorial staff.

  “Sure, you can clean my locker and I’ll pick your dress; how’s that for a trade?”

  “Hey, sounds fair to me,” Chelsea said. “Are you going to wear that one dress?”

  “I think so,” Laurel said. Chelsea was referring to the dress Laurel had brought back from Avalon and worn to the Samhain festival. Ever since Laurel had told her about it, Chelsea had been pestering her to wear it to a dance. “I don’t—”

  Laurel just managed to bite off a scream as her head exploded with literally blinding pain. An eerie, whistling wind filled her head with sound and pressure and darkness.

  And then it was gone.

  “Laurel? Laurel, are you all right?”

  Laurel opened her eyes to discover she had fallen backward and was now sprawled on the floor. Chelsea was kneeling next to her, concern written all over her face. Laurel sat up and glanced furtively around her, embarrassed. She hoped nobody else had seen her fall over like a moron.

  Her eyes met Yuki’s. She was in the middle of cleaning out her locker across the hallway, and looked away immediately, covering a smile with one delicate hand.

  Momentarily, Laurel wondered if Yuki might be the cause of her headaches. She’d often been around when they struck . . . but then, she’d practically invaded every aspect of Laurel’s life, so she was always around. Besides, “causing headaches” was not a faerie power, and even if it was, there were easier ways to distract Laurel from whatever it was Yuki was supposed to be distracting her from. Not that it mattered. If Yuki was doing something, it would all be over in a few days. Shar had arrived and was even now strategizing with Tamani.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Laurel muttered, embarrassed.

  Chelsea put a protective arm around her and they walked out toward Laurel’s car.

  They drove in silence, which at first Laurel thought was weird, but she quickly realized it was restful. All week she had been jumping at every sound, waiting for something to happen. For Yuki to realize they’d found out about Klea—for trolls to come barreling through the school wall—she didn’t even know what. But something! The world had changed and no one else seemed to sense it. Yuki still clung to Tamani; Ryan still hung around cluelessly; Laurel and David and Chelsea tried to talk and laugh normally. Not to mention pass their final exams.

  At Chelsea’s house, Laurel did her best to put all of this aside. She had always liked Chelsea’s house. No matter what happened in her own life, at Chelsea’s house it was only her brothers who were the monsters, her room that was the mess, and the most difficult decision Laurel would be asked to make was the black dress or the red one.

  “The red, I think,” Laurel said, as Chelsea put it on for the third time.

  “Why are we going to the dance with her, anyway?” Chelsea asked, examining herself in the full-length mirror that doubled as her closet door. “If we know Yuki’s a distraction or whatever, then why does it matter if we keep her occupied? I so want to just ditch her. And what’s she distracting us from, again?”

  “The cabin,” Laurel said, though she wondered what could be in the cabin that was worth keeping from them. “For all we know, Yuki doesn’t even know the role she’s playing. Klea is some kind of puppet-master, I’m telling you. But just in case, until they actually raid the cabin, we’re supposed to act like nothing has changed.”

  “When are they going to raid?”

  Laurel shrugged. Shar had been characteristically vague about that. The way he kept putting it off was driving Tamani crazy.

  “Hmph. Well, Tamani’s boss. Or is it Shar?” She looked at the mirror as Laurel shrugged again, twisting her curls up on top of her head. “You don’t think it clashes with my hair?”

  “Actually, I think it brings out the auburn,” Laurel said, grateful to be done talking about Yuki. “I think you look gorgeous in it. Ryan is going to swoon,” she said with a grin.

  Chelsea’s face fell.

  “What?” Laurel said. “Is it the college thing? You won’t even know for sure on that for a couple months yet.”

  Chelsea shook her head.

  “Then what?” Laurel asked.

  Chelsea turned and sat silently on the bed beside Laurel.

  “Tell me,” Laurel said, her voice soft.

  Laurel saw tears gather at the corner of Chelsea’s eyes.

  “Chelsea, what?” she asked, a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ve been thinking for days how to tell you and make you understand. And not lose you in the process.”

  “Oh, Chelsea,” Laurel said, her hand immediately on Chelsea’s shoulder. “You could never lose me. You are my best friend in the whole world. There is nothing you could tell me that would change that.”

  “I’m breaking up with Ryan after the dance.”

  Laurel blanched. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but this wasn’t it. “Why? Did something happen?”

  Chelsea laughed. “Besides me constantly running off at inopportune times and keeping half my life a secret from him?”

  But Laurel didn’t laugh. “I mean, did he say something? Did you say something?”

  Chelsea shook her head. “No, he’s been fine. We’ve been fine. I mean, he didn’t apply to Harvard, but so what? I might not even get in there. Just because he doesn’t want to go to Harvard doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about me,” she said, bitterness coloring her tone. “It just means he cares about staying in California more.” She paused, taking a slow breath. “But really, I can’t expect him to throw his dreams away for me. It’s because of you, actually.”

  “Me?” Laurel asked, shocked. “What did I do?”

  “You broke up with David,” Chelsea said softly.

  Laurel looked down in her lap. Now she knew what was coming.

  “I thought I was over him. I really did. And I was happy with Ryan. Very happy. But then you broke up with David and he got so sad and I realized that when the two of you first got together, I was okay letting him go because he was happy. Now that he’s not, I—” She paused, taking a moment to compose herself. “If he’s not happy, I can’t make myself be happy.”

  Laurel was silent. She couldn’t even muster up any jealousy. She just felt numb.

  “I’m not going to chase him,” Chelsea said, as if reading Laurel thoughts. “It’s not fair, and it’s disloyal, and I won’t do that to you. But,” she said, taking a deep breath, “if he decides to actually notice me after all these years and I miss it because I’m forcing myself to stay with Ryan, I . . .” She blinked back tears. “I would hate myself. So I’m just going to—to be there, if he needs me. And since you’re my best friend, I thought it was only fair to tell you.”

  Laurel nodded, but couldn’t meet Chelsea’s eyes. She was right; it was only fair. In fact, it would be easier. If things worked out between David and Chelsea, then everyone would have someone.

  So why did it make her weep inside?

  They sat in silence for several seconds before Laurel threw her arms around Chelsea, hugging her tightly. “Wear the red dress,” Laurel whispered in her ear. “You look best in that one.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  LAUREL STOOD IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, STUDYING her reflection. The irony of wearing the dress she’d worn to the Samhain festival with Tamani last year to a human dance with David this year was not lost on her. But it was her favorite dress, she hadn’t had a chance to wear it since then, and she didn’t really want to go out and buy something new. She’d pulled her hair up in a sparkling clip—also from Avalon—and then let it down again about six times. She didn’t have much longer to make up her mind.

  In ten, no, seven minutes, ever
yone would be downstairs, all dressed up and pretending to like one another before heading to the dance. In separate cars, this time. Tamani insisted. Just in case.

  The cold, rainy fall had given way to a less rainy but even colder winter and Laurel hoped she wouldn’t look too weird with just a light wrap. Without the sun to rejuvenate her, she couldn’t handle wearing a jacket. It was too confining, too tiring.

  She wondered what Tamani would wear. He’d never been to a human formal dance and she wondered if she should have stopped by his apartment to make sure he had something suitable. The black getup complete with cloak that he had worn when he escorted her to Avalon last year had been stunning, but not exactly appropriate for a high school dance.

  Deciding that the sparkling clip would probably take at least some attention off her face—and therefore away from the concerned expression she couldn’t seem to erase no matter how she tried to smooth it with a smile—Laurel stuck the clip back in her hair and forced herself away from the mirror and down the stairs.

  “You look gorgeous!” her mom said from the kitchen.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Laurel said, smiling over her stress. She put her arms around her mom’s neck. “I really needed to hear that right now.”

  “Is everything okay?” her mom asked, pulling back and looking at Laurel.

  “The whole David and Tamani thing—remember he’s Tam in front of Yuki—is just . . . stressful. On top of everything else, I mean.” She had warned her parents that Klea was probably a faerie and not to be trusted, but there wasn’t much they could do but play along like everyone else.

  Turning Laurel gently around, her mom lightly rubbed her back, just the way Laurel liked it. “How’s your head?” she asked, kneading her neck now.

  “Fine,” Laurel said. “It got pretty bad yesterday, but with finals out of the way I’m hoping for a nice, relaxing break.”

  Her mom nodded. “I admit, I’m a little surprised it’s David who’s coming to pick you up tonight.”