Chapter Three
SCHOOL WAS ALMOST UNBEARABLY AWKWARD FOR the next few days; Tamani’s presence in Government drove Laurel crazy and his presence in Speech drove David crazy. The fact that apparently there were still trolls hanging around Crescent City would probably have disturbed Chelsea more if she weren’t so happy to have a second faerie at Del Norte High. But though he was always around, Tamani mostly ignored Laurel and her friends. And while Laurel appreciated the occasional wink or secret smile, even those served to remind her of the dangers that could be lurking around every corner.
But with the return of homework and tests and research papers, Laurel found herself slipping into her usual school routine—trolls or no trolls, Tamani or no Tamani. She knew from experience how exhausting it could get, living in constant fear, and she refused to simply endure high school. She wanted to live her life, and though Laurel hated to admit it, her life didn’t have a lot of room for Tamani.
She wasn’t sure whether to feel sad about that, or guilty, or exasperated. Whether or not there was room in her life for Tamani, Laurel knew that there was precious little room in Tamani’s life for anyone or anything but Laurel. He lived to protect her, and he’d never failed her. Annoyed her, frustrated her, hurt her, maddened her—but never once failed her.
Sometimes she wondered what he did when she wasn’t around. But, especially in the afternoons, when she would lay snuggled up on the couch with David, she thought she was probably better off not knowing. She and David didn’t discuss it—she’d told him what was happening, of course, but they had long since come to the mutually tacit conclusion that where Tamani was concerned, silence was golden.
The itchy feeling that she was being watched was almost continual now. Laurel tried not to dwell on how often it was real, and how often imagined. But she often hoped it was real, particularly when a suspicious-looking vehicle drove by her house.
Or when her doorbell rang unexpectedly.
“Ignore it,” David said, looking up from his crisp, neatly tabbed notes as Laurel slid her messy ones off her lap. “It’s probably just a sales guy or something.”
“Can’t,” Laurel said. “Mom’s expecting a package from eBay. I’ll have to sign for it.”
“Hurry back,” David said with a grin.
Laurel was still smiling when she opened the door. But the instant she saw the familiar face her smile melted away and she tried to recover by pasting on a new one. “Klea! Hi! I—”
“Sorry to drop by unannounced,” Klea said with a smirk to rival the Mona Lisa’s. She was—as usual—dressed from head to toe in formfitting black, her mirrored sunglasses drawn down over her eyes. “I was hoping I could call in a favor.”
That seemed strangely direct, coming from Klea. Laurel’s mind went to Tamani’s words last week about the calm before the storm. She hoped she wasn’t watching that storm roll in. “What kind of favor?” she asked, grateful her voice sounded steady, strong. “Can we talk out here?” Klea asked, nodding toward the front veranda.
Laurel followed her hesitantly, though she knew no one got this close to her house without sentries tracking their every move. Klea extended one hand toward a girl who was standing silently next to the wicker chair farthest from them. “Laurel, I’d like you to meet Yuki.”
It was the girl Laurel had seen with Tamani on their first day of school—the Japanese exchange student. She was wearing a khaki canvas skirt and a light, airy top decorated with red flowers. She was a little taller than Laurel, but the way she stood made her seem very small—arms folded, shoulders slumped, chin tucked against her chest. Laurel was familiar with the posture; it was the same one she assumed when she wished she could disappear.
“Yuki?” Klea prompted. Yuki raised her chin and lifted her long eyelashes, settling her gaze on Laurel.
Laurel blinked in surprise. The girl had elegant almond-shaped eyes, but they were a shockingly pale green that seemed at odds with her dark hair and complexion. Very beautiful, though—a striking combination.
“Hi.” Feeling awkward, Laurel thrust her hand out. Yuki took it, limply; Laurel quickly let go. The whole encounter was weirding her out. “You’re our new foreign exchange student, right?” Laurel asked, her eyes flitting to Klea.
Klea cleared her throat. “Not exactly. Well, she is from Japan, but we may have falsified some paperwork to get her into your school system. Calling her foreign exchange was the easiest way.”
Laurel’s lips formed a silent O.
“Can we sit?” Klea asked.
Laurel nodded numbly.
“You may recall, I solicited the possibility of your assistance last fall,” Klea began, leaning back in the wicker chair. “I hoped we wouldn’t need it, but unfortunately, we do. Yuki is . . . a person of interest to my organization. Not an enemy,” she added quickly, cutting off Laurel’s question. She turned to Yuki and stroked her long hair, brushing it back from her face. “She needs protection. We rescued her from trolls when she was just a baby, and placed her with a host family in Japan, as far from any known hordes as we could manage.” Klea sighed. “Unfortunately, nothing is foolproof. Last fall, Yuki’s host family—um, foster parents—were killed by trolls trying to capture her. We barely got her out in time.”
Laurel looked over at Yuki, who was staring calmly back, as if Klea had not just spoken of her parents’ murder.
“They sent her to me. Again. She’s been traveling with us, but she really ought to be in school.” Klea removed her sunglasses, just long enough to rub wearily at her eyes. It wasn’t even sunny out—but of course, Klea wore the stupid things even at night, so Laurel wasn’t surprised. “Plus, we managed to clear out the trolls in this area last year. Anyway, I don’t want to put her back in danger, and I certainly don’t want any new trolls to discover her. So we’ve put her in school here.”
“I don’t understand. Why here? What do you need me for?” Laurel saw no reason to conceal her skepticism. She had seen Klea’s camp—when it came to trolls, she couldn’t think of anyone less in need of help than Klea.
“Hopefully, not much. But I’m in a real bind. I can’t risk having her with me on a hunt. If I send her too far away, she’s vulnerable to trolls I don’t know about. If I don’t send her far enough, anything that slips through our dragnet could come after her. You held your own against five trolls last year, and Jeremiah Barnes was an especially difficult case. Considering that, I suspect you could deal with any . . . rogue elements that might show up in town. And I just thought you’d be a good person to keep an eye on her. Please?” Klea added, almost as an afterthought.
There had to be more to this than Klea was saying, but Laurel couldn’t imagine what. Was Yuki here to spy on Laurel? Or was Laurel letting Tamani’s suspicions make her paranoid? Klea had saved Laurel’s life—twice! Still, her reluctance to trust Klea was an unscratchable itch. No matter how much sense the woman made, no matter how plausible her stories sounded, every word that came out of her mouth felt wrong.
Was Klea being deliberately mysterious now? Maybe it was because this was the first time Laurel had seen Klea in broad daylight, or because she was emboldened by the nearness of her faerie protectors, or even just because she was older and more confident now. But whatever the reason, Laurel decided she’d had enough. “Klea, why don’t you just tell me what you’re really doing here?”
This, strangely, made Yuki chuckle, if only a little. Klea’s face was momentarily expressionless, then she too smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Laurel—you still don’t trust me, after everything I’ve done for you. And why should you? You know nothing about me. Your caution is to your credit. But I need you to trust me now, at least enough to help me out, so I’ll give it to you straight.” She looked over at Yuki, who was staring down into her lap. Klea leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We think the trolls are after Yuki because she’s not exactly . . . human.”
Laurel’s eyes widened.
“We’ve classified her as a dryad,”
Klea continued. “It seems to fit. But she’s the only specimen we’ve encountered. All we know for sure is that she’s not an animal; she has plant cells. She seems to take nourishment from the soil and sunlight as well as external sources. She doesn’t exhibit any paranormal abilities, like the strength or persuasion we see in trolls, but her metabolism is a little miraculous, so . . . anyway. I really do need you to keep an eye on her. It may be months before I can arrange a permanent safe house. My hope is that I’ve hidden her well enough for now, but if not, you’re my backup plan.”
It took less than a second for Laurel to understand. She turned back to Yuki, and Yuki finally looked up at Laurel. Her pale green eyes. They were mirrors of Laurel’s eyes. Aaron’s eyes. Katya’s eyes. And, lately, Tamani’s eyes.
Those were faerie eyes.
Chapter Four
LAUREL PUSHED THE DOOR CLOSED, WANTING NOTHING more than to turn back time; to have ignored the doorbell like David suggested. Not that an unanswered door would be likely to deter Klea, but . . .
“Well?”
Laurel spun around, startled by the sound of Tamani’s voice. He was standing next to David in the front room. Both had their arms crossed in front of them.
“When did you get here?” she asked, confused.
“About half a second before you answered the door,” David replied for him.
“What did she want?” Tamani asked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she picked that spot on purpose—like she knew I was there.”
Laurel shook her head. “It’s the porch, Tamani. It’s a common place to sit and chat.”
Tamani looked unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. “So what’s going on? Why was Yuki with her?”
“Who’s Yuki?” David asked.
“The girl from Japan,” Tamani said brusquely. “The exchange student.”
Laurel stared at him for a second, wondering if he already knew. But she remembered that they had all toured the school together. Obviously Robison would have made introductions. Besides, he would have told her if he knew—wouldn’t he?
“She’s a faerie,” Laurel said softly.
Stunned silence buzzed in her ears.
Tamani opened his mouth, then stopped and closed it. He laughed humorlessly. “Those eyes. I should have seen it.” His grimace became a determined scowl. “So Klea knows about faeries—we have to assume she knows about you.”
“I’m not sure she does know about faeries,” Laurel said slowly. “She called Yuki a dryad.” Laurel sat down on the couch—where David immediately joined her—and related the rest of the conversation as Tamani paced the room. “I don’t like her and I don’t trust her, but I don’t think Klea actually knows what Yuki is.”
Tamani stood still now, his knuckles pressed softly against his mouth.
“Klea did save our lives. Twice, even,” David said. “But bringing another faerie to Del Norte seems like a pretty big coincidence.”
“Right,” Laurel said, trying to sort out her feelings. Part of her was overjoyed. Another faerie, living as a human! And not just for show, like Tamani, but raised from a young age by adoptive parents. That part of Laurel wanted to embrace Yuki and pull her inside the house and grill her about her life, her coping techniques, her daily routine. What did she eat? Had she blossomed yet? But revealing anything to Yuki surely meant telling Klea as well, and that was not something Laurel wanted to do.
“What do we know about Yuki?” David asked, looking to Tamani, who again crossed his arms and shook his head.
“Basically nothing. But she’s involved with Klea, so we know she can’t be trusted,” Tamani said darkly.
“What if Klea’s telling the truth?” Whatever her doubts about Klea, Laurel found herself hoping that Yuki was, at worst, an innocent pawn. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps just a natural desire to defend her own kind. Besides, she seemed so timid and shy. “I mean, if she’s here to spy, why reveal herself at all?”
“There are a lot of different ways to spy,” Tamani said slowly. “Yuki could be a diversion, or she could be hiding in plain sight. Knowing Yuki is a faerie isn’t nearly as important as knowing what kind.”
“Aren’t most of you Spring faeries?” asked David.
“Sure,” Tamani agreed. “And a strong Ticer surrounded by humans is as good as an army.”
David blanched, but Laurel shook her head. “Klea said Yuki didn’t have any powers.”
“Klea could be lying. Or Yuki could be hiding her abilities from Klea.” He paused, grinning a little. “In fact, Yuki could be the one lying to Klea. Wouldn’t that be something.”
“So what’s the worst-case scenario?” David asked. “She Entices me or Chelsea into spilling your secrets?”
“Or she’s a Sparkler and she’s in here right now, invisible, listening to this conversation,” Tamani said.
“Summer faeries can do that?” Laurel asked.
“Some of them,” Tamani said. “Not that she’s likely to figure that out without training. But until today, I would have told you that I knew the location of every faerie outside of Avalon, so I guess anything is possible. For all we know, Yuki could be a Winter.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. The thought made Laurel’s stomach clench. “Or a Fall.” He hesitated again, then spoke in a rush, as though afraid someone would stop him before he’d had his say. “She could even be the Mixer who poisoned your father.”
Laurel felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. She managed to choke out a strangled, “What?”
“I—I—” Tamani stammered. “Look, the point is, she could be harmless, but she could be very, very dangerous. So we need to act quickly,” Tamani said, avoiding the question.
But Laurel wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “You mean two years ago—when he got sick? You said it was trolls.”
Tamani sighed. “It could have been the trolls. But in centuries of dealing with the trolls, we’ve never seen them use poison like that. They’re brutal and manipulative . . . but they’re not Mixers. So when your father got sick—”
“You think a Fall faerie did that?” Laurel asked blankly. Suddenly it made horrible sense.
“Yes. No. We thought maybe—”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Laurel felt her anger rising. What else had Tamani been holding back? He was supposed to teach her about the faerie realm, not keep her in the dark! “I’ve been to the Academy twice since then! Where basically all the Fall faeries live! You should have said something!”
“I tried,” Tamani protested, “but Shar stopped me. And he was right to stop me. We investigated. Aside from you, no Mixers have been through the gates without constant supervision in decades. We don’t let fae cross out of Avalon lightly.”
“You let me,” Laurel insisted.
Tamani smiled softly, almost sadly. “You are very, very special.” He cleared his throat and continued. “No one wanted you to go into the Academy suspecting every Mixer you met of trying to kill your father. Especially since it probably wasn’t one of them.”
Laurel contemplated that. She knew several Fall faeries who were experts at animal poisons. Including Mara, who was still nursing an ancient grudge. “But now you think Yuki had something to do with it?” she asked, pushing that thought aside to focus on the threat at hand.
“Maybe. I mean, it doesn’t seem likely. She’s so young. And on top of that, Barnes showed resistance to our potions, so he could have been an unusually gifted troll in other ways too. All I know for sure is, Yuki shouldn’t be here. No wild faerie should be here.”
“Hang on,” David said, leaning forward, placing a hand on Laurel’s leg. “If Yuki poisoned your dad, then Yuki had to be working for Barnes—but if Yuki was working for Barnes, why is she with Klea now? Klea killed Barnes.”
“Maybe she was Barnes’s prisoner and Klea rescued her,” Laurel said.
“Then why not tell you that?” D
avid asked. “Why lie about Yuki being an orphan?”
“And we’re back to Klea lying again,” Tamani said wryly.
After a long silence, Laurel shook her head. “It doesn’t add up. We don’t know anything. All we have is what Klea told me.” She hesitated. “What I’d really like is to get Yuki’s side of the story.”
“Impossible,” Tamani said instantly.
Laurel glared, annoyed at his dismissal. “Why?”
Tamani saw the change in her expression and softened his tone. “I think it’s too dangerous,” he said softly.
“Can’t you Entice her?” David asked.
“It doesn’t really work on faeries,” Laurel said. But it had worked on her, before she knew what she was—maybe David had a point.
Tamani shook his head. “It’s worse than that. If it doesn’t work at all, it will be because she knows about Enticement, and then she’ll realize I’m fae. I can’t risk that until we find out more.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Laurel asked, exasperated. The impossibility of the situation was suffocating. “We don’t know who’s lying and who’s telling the truth. Maybe no one’s telling the truth!”
“I think we need to go see Jamison,” Tamani said after a pause.
Laurel found herself nodding. “I think that’s a good idea,” she said slowly.
Tamani pulled something out of his pocket, and began tapping at it.
“Oh my gosh, is that an iPhone?” Laurel asked, her voice unconsciously rising in pitch and volume.
Tamani looked up at her, his expression blank. “Yeah?”
“He has an iPhone,” Laurel said to David. “My faerie sentry who generally lives without running water has an iPhone. That’s. Just. Great. Everyone in the whole world has a cell phone except me. That’s awesome.” Her parents still insisted that cell phones were for adults and college students. So behind the times.
“It’s essential for communication purposes,” Tamani said defensively. “I have to admit, humans are far beyond the fae in terms of communication. With this we can deliver messages instantly. A few buttons and I can talk to Shar! It’s astounding.”