Destined

Laurel stopped, resting her hands on her knees and trying to catch her breath as Tamani explained the situation – with sputtering protests from Silve at the details Tamani and Shar had kept secret.

  “There’s no time for explanations,” Tamani said, cutting Silve off. “Shar needs backup and he needs it now.” The two sentries took only a few precious seconds to outline a plan for dividing forces, and Silve sprang into the tree shouting orders.

  Tamani put a protective hand at Laurel’s waist and guided her to the back door, his gaze returning to the trees the whole way.

  Laurel’s mom was in the kitchen, a light cotton robe tied loosely at her waist, concern in her eyes. “Laurel? Where have you been? And what . . . ?” She gestured wordlessly at Tamani’s wet, torn shirt.

  “Is Chelsea here?” Laurel asked, avoiding her mom’s question. For the moment.

  “I don’t know. I thought you were in bed.” Her eyes flitted to Tamani and his pained expression made her face go white. “Trolls again?” she whispered.

  “I’ll go check for Chelsea,” Laurel said, pushing Tamani on to a barstool as gently as she could manage.

  She hurried up the stairs and cracked open her bedroom door just wide enough to see Chelsea’s unmistakable curly hair spilling across the pillow. She pulled the door shut and heaved a sigh, relief washing over her, melting her down onto the carpet.

  She looked up at the sound of footsteps, but it was just her dad stumbling blearily down the hall. “Laurel, what’s the matter? Are you OK?”

  The avalanche of events that had buried her life in less than twenty-four hours forced her to blink back tears. “No,” she whispered. “No, I’m not.”

  Like water seeping through a dam, first as a trickle, then a torrent, Laurel found herself stumbling over her words as she explained everything to her parents, including the events of the past week that she’d been avoiding telling them. The words came more slowly as she wound down, explaining how Klea had attacked and that Shar was still in danger, and then at last she was done, feeling purged and empty – except for the smouldering memory of the one thing she could never let her parents find out.

  “I . . . I didn’t know how to tell you earlier,” she finished.

  “A Winter faerie?” her dad asked.

  Laurel nodded.

  “The kind who can pretty much do anything?”

  She rubbed her eyes. “You have no idea.”

  Laurel’s mom glanced up at Tamani, who had remained silent through Laurel’s explanation. “Is my daughter in danger?”

  “I don’t know,” Tamani admitted. “Despite being a Winter faerie, I don’t think Yuki is a threat to Laurel personally. Klea, however, is another story. She does things that aren’t even remotely legal in Avalon, and we still don’t know what her end goal is.”

  “It’s a shame we couldn’t have just hit Klea on the head and dragged her away when she was here at our house last month,” Laurel’s dad said, only half joking.

  “Do we need to take you somewhere, Laurel?” her mom asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Would you be safer if we took you and went away? We can be gone in an hour.” She was on her feet, staring down at Laurel with an expression of such fierce protectiveness that Laurel wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

  “I can’t leave,” Laurel said softly. “This is my responsibility. If Klea was going to hurt me, she’s had plenty of opportunities. I don’t think that’s what she wants from me.”

  “What does she want from you?”

  Laurel shrugged. “The land, probably. The gate to Avalon. Like Tamani said, we just don’t know.”

  “And we won’t know much of anything else until Shar comes back,” Tamani added.

  Laurel noticed his tightly clenched fists and laid a hand on his arm. “He’ll come back,” she said softly, hoping she sounded more certain than she felt.

  “You know,” Tamani said quietly, not looking at her, “maybe your mother’s right. We’ve done everything we can here. Jamison asked us to find the root of the troll problem. Klea brought trolls to rescue Yuki. I think that’s proof enough that the root is her, so, mission accomplished. The rest is really up to Aaron and Shar, but if they aren’t . . . successful . . .” Tamani paused, and Laurel could almost see him imagining the worst. “Maybe you should leave.”

  Laurel was already shaking her head. “With all the sentries in the woods, there’s nowhere safer than right here.” She turned to her mother. “I know you want to protect me. But I have a job to do and there are thousands of faeries in Avalon who are depending on me to keep their world safe. If Shar and Aaron can’t stop Klea – if there’s anything I can do, I have to be here to do it. I can’t run away from that. I just . . .”

  Laurel’s mom was smiling at her, eyes shining with unshed tears.

  Laurel shrugged helplessly. “I just want to help.”

  “We’re not going to talk you out of this, are we?” her dad asked.

  She shook her head, afraid her voice would quaver and inspire her dad to try just that.

  “Maybe you two should go without Laurel,” Tamani suggested. “I don’t think Klea has any interest in you, but at least then Laurel would know you were safe.”

  Laurel’s mom looked over at her. “If Laurel is staying, so are we.”

  Tamani nodded.

  Her dad stood and sighed. “I’m gonna go shower. Clear my head. Then we can make a plan.”

  “I have to call David,” Laurel said, reaching for the phone as her dad tromped up the stairs.

  “Why does David always have to be involved?” Tamani muttered, already starting to pace.

  “Because he thinks he has a shift coming up,” Laurel said pointedly, dialling David’s number as Tamani pulled out his cell.

  “He has an iPhone?” her mom whispered as the second ring sounded in Laurel’s ear.

  Laurel nodded. “I was saving that little tidbit for ammunition the next time we discussed me getting a phone.”

  Her mom was silent for several seconds as Laurel listened to David’s voice-mail message. “Do they get . . . service? In Avalon?” she asked.

  Laurel shrugged and left a brief message for David to call her when he woke up. She considered calling his home phone, but didn’t want to wake his mom. After all, it was barely seven in the morning. She would have to wait.

  Just like everyone else.

  Tamani’s hand lingered in his pocket and he walked back and forth across the kitchen floor until Laurel thought she might scream.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Tamani?” her mom finally said, with a tiny edge to her voice. Pacing was not a popular habit in the Sewell household. “Or perhaps you want to . . . clean up a bit?”

  “Clean . . . ?” Tamani said, looking a little dazed. He peered down at his tattered shirt and the scratches on his arms that were no longer oozing but remained shiny with sap. “That’s probably a good idea,” he said haltingly.

  “Maybe something to eat, too?” Laurel suggested. “Considering this turn of events, I suspect even green stuff is back on the menu,” she added, forcing a laugh. Tamani had been avoiding his favourite foods to keep from colouring his eyes and hair roots, but Laurel assumed it wouldn’t matter anymore. She supposed, in retrospect, that it had never really mattered – Yuki had always known what he was.

  Tamani nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Thanks. Broccoli, if you have it.”

  “I’ll go up and find you a T-shirt,” Laurel’s mom said, turning to follow in her husband’s footsteps.

  “Thank you,” Tamani whispered, though his eyes were on his phone again. Laurel could feel him willing it to ring.

  Numbly Laurel grabbed a knife to chop up the stalk of broccoli she’d fished from the refrigerator.

  Tamani turned his head slightly, listening to Laurel’s mom’s footsteps as she climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom. Then he seemed to melt on to the barstool, running his hands through his hair with a soft groan.

  Laur
el loaded several florets onto a plate and handed it to him, but he took the plate with one hand and her hand with the other, his gaze so intense it took her breath away. He slowly transferred the glass plate to the counter and pulled her close.

  Laurel curled herself against his chest, grasping at what was left of his shirt. His hands were in her hair, then around her waist, his fingers pressing almost painfully against her back.

  “I honestly thought that might be the end,” he whispered in her ear, his voice gravelly. When his lips fell on her neck, her cheeks, and dotted her eyelids, she didn’t pull away. Even when his mouth found hers, frantic and delving, she returned the kiss with the same fire and passion. It wasn’t until that moment – feeling the desperation fuelling his kiss – that she realised just how narrowly they’d cheated death. Not since he’d been shot by Barnes had Laurel seen Tamani lose a fight like that, and she clung to him, trembling with relief from a fear she hadn’t even known she was feeling.

  Laurel’s fingers brushed the cut on Tamani’s cheek, pulling back at his soft gasp of pain against her lips. But he didn’t jerk away. If anything, he drew her closer. She wished there was more time; time to lose herself in his kisses, to forget that Shar was out there, somewhere, fighting for all their lives.

  He finally lifted his mouth, his forehead pressed against hers. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I . . . I just needed you for a moment.”

  Laurel twined her fingers through his. “I think I needed you, too.”

  Tamani met her eyes and stroked her face with his thumb. The desperation was gone now, and he was all softness and calm. His mouth brushed hers tentatively, as his hands had so often done. Laurel leaned forward, wanting more. Wanting to show him that she wanted more. She stopped listening for her mother’s footsteps, for a sign of Chelsea coming out of her room, for anything but the soft purr of Tamani’s breath on her cheek.

  Only when the jangle of the phone sounded close to her ear did the world snap back into focus. It rang again as she tried to catch her breath. “That’ll be David,” she whispered.

  Tamani stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, then let his hand drop and turned to his plate of broccoli as Laurel picked up the handset.

  “Laurel!” David said, his voice bleary. “You’re home. Did you oversleep? Do I need to get over there and cover for you?” She could hear him fumbling around, probably pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, ready to rush in and save the day.

  “No. No, it’s worse than that,” Laurel said quietly. All rustling on David’s end came to a halt as she explained what had happened.

  “I’m coming over.”

  “I think there are enough stressed people in this house,” Laurel argued.

  “Well, I can’t just sit around here and wait. I . . . I’ll feel better if I’m over there, just in case. Is that OK?”

  Laurel suppressed a sigh. She knew exactly how he felt and, if their positions were reversed, she would want the same thing. “OK,” she said. “But just let yourself in. Don’t knock or ring or whatever. Chelsea’s still sleeping and she really needs it.”

  “I won’t. And Laurel? Thanks.”

  Laurel hung up and turned to face Tamani. “He’s coming over.”

  Tamani nodded, swallowing a mouthful of veggies. “I figured as much.”

  “Who’s coming over?” Laurel’s mom asked from halfway down the stairs.

  “David.”

  Laurel’s mom sighed in half amusement as she tossed a clean grey T-shirt to Tamani. “I have to say, I don’t know what that boy tells his mother.”

  Tamani gritted his teeth as he gingerly pulled the new – and rather too big – shirt over the binding strips Laurel had spent the last ten minutes applying. David had arrived and Laurel was sitting with him on the couch, filling him in on the morning attack. Tamani blocked out her voice; he was already replaying the events in his mind, looking for some way he could have been more prepared, more effective.

  Especially against Klea.

  He hadn’t lost a round of hand-to-hand combat to anyone but Shar in years. To lose to a human-trained Mixer hurt almost as badly as the wounds she had left on him – and those stung plenty.

  Laurel’s parents had offered to stay home from work, but Tamani insisted it was better for everyone if they went to their stores and pretended it was a regular day. Before Laurel could even suggest it, Tamani had ordered half a dozen sentries to tail each parent, just in case. The grateful look in her eyes had been a welcome bonus.

  “So what now?”

  Tamani looked over and realised David was talking to him.

  “We’re waiting to hear from Shar,” Tamani grumbled. “Silve took a whole company of sentries back to the apartment to help with the trolls. They should sound the all-clear any time.”

  “And . . .” David hesitated. “If they don’t?”

  That was what Tamani had been fretting about for an hour. “I don’t know.” What he wanted to say was that he’d take Laurel somewhere no one could find her – not even David – and stay there until he knew she was safe. Last resort for any Fear-gleidhidh. But Laurel had already decided she wasn’t going to run and Tamani probably shouldn’t warn her that they might be running whether she liked it or not.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” said David.

  “Yeah, well, neither do I,” Tamani said, frustration heavy in his voice. “We’re not exactly safe here, either, it’s just safer than anywhere else at the moment.” But for how long? He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at David. “Would you like to leave?”

  David just gave him a dark look.

  Tamani’s phone began vibrating in his hand. He looked down at the screen to see a blue box heralding the arrival of a text message.

  From . . . Shar?

  klea took yuki and ran. i followed.

  Then the phone buzzed again – a picture this time. He’d been expecting to hear from Shar – perhaps hoping was a better word – but even though he’d been clinging to his phone since they’d arrived at Laurel’s house, the person he’d assumed would call was Aaron. Maybe Silve. Shar had never managed to use the phone before; generally he refused to even try. Tamani slid a finger across the screen once, twice, three times before it recognised his touch and unlocked. He squinted at the minuscule picture for a second before tapping it to make it bigger.

  Not that it helped.

  He was looking at a log cabin with a white, tentlike structure sprawling out the back. There were two slightly grainy figures near the front door.

  “What is it?” Laurel asked.

  He beckoned her forwards. “It’s from Shar.”

  “Shar?” The disbelief in Laurel’s voice was as heavy as it was in Tamani’s mind. “He texted you?”

  Tamani nodded, studying the picture. “He said Klea got away with Yuki. He followed them here.” He slid his fingers over the screen, zooming in on the two figures, wanting to be sure before voicing his suspicions. “Those two guards,” he said slowly, “I don’t think they’re human.”

  “Trolls?” David asked, still sitting on the couch.

  “Fae,” Tamani said, not looking up from the screen. “They don’t seem to be trying to hide it either. This must be . . . I don’t know. Klea’s headquarters?”

  “Should you call him?” Laurel suggested, but Tamani was already shaking his head.

  “No way. If that’s where he is, I can’t risk giving him away.”

  “Can’t your phone, like, find his with GPS or something?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know that it matters. There’s no text with this picture and for now I have to assume that means I should do nothing.” He shoved his hands back into his pockets – one still clenched around his phone – and began pacing again.

  The phone buzzed almost immediately. Another picture.

  “What are they?” Laurel asked, squeezing in beside him to squint at the tall, green stalks.

  Tamani’s stomach twisted with a sick churning. It had taken
the Gardener’s son in him less than a second to recognise the distinct plant specimen. “They’re sprouts,” he said hoarsely.

  “Sprou – Oh!” Laurel said, sucking in a breath.

  “The plants faeries are born out of?” David asked, rising from the couch to look over Tamani’s shoulder.

  Tamani nodded numbly.

  “But there are dozens of them!” Laurel said. Then, after a pause, “Why are so many of them chopped down?”

  But Tamani could only shake his head as he glared at the picture, trying to understand Shar’s message. Everything about this was wrong. He was no Gardener, but the condition of the growing sprouts was appalling even to the untrained eye. The plants were too close together, and most of the stalks were too short in comparison to the size of the bulb. They were malnourished at best and probably permanently damaged.

  But it was the cut-off stalks that bothered him the most. The only reason to cut a stalk was to harvest it early. Tamani’s mom had done so once in her career, to save a dying baby fae, but Tamani couldn’t imagine Klea’s motives were so maternal. And he had no idea why she would do it to so many. She had to be using them. And not for companionship.

  His gruesome speculation was cut off by another picture, this one of a metal rack filled with green vials. There was no spark of recognition this time and Tamani tilted the screen toward Laurel. “Do you recognise this serum?”

  Laurel shook her head. “About half of all serums are green. It could be anything.”

  “Maybe it—” His question was cut off by the phone buzzing again. Not a text this time; a call. Tamani sucked in a breath and held the phone up to his ear. “Shar?” he said, wondering if he sounded as desperate as he felt.

  Laurel looked up at him, worry, concern, and hope twining together in her gaze.

  “Shar?” he said, more quietly now.

  “Tam, I need your help,” Shar whispered. “I need you to . . .” His voice trailed off, and shuffling noises were loud against Tamani’s ear as it sounded like Shar set the phone down.

  “Don’t move, or this whole shelf goes over.” Shar’s voice came through clearly, but with a slight echo. Speakerphone, Tamani realised. He felt a laugh bubble up in his throat and had to bite his lip firmly to tamp it down. Shar had figured out his phone enough to use it when it counted.