Illusions (11 page)

“SHE'S IN THERE ALL THE TIME,” TAMANI SAID TO
Aaron halfway between Laurel's and Yuki's houses. “She does homework, reads, watches television. I don't see any evidence of plotting at all.” It had been more than a fortnight since they'd discovered Yuki was a faerie, and there was still nothing to indicate that she even comprehended what she was, much less had a master plan that involved Laurel's demise.

“All the guards say their most boring shifts are watching her,” Aaron replied. “And I don't mean that humorously. Nothing happens. Suspicious or otherwise.”

“We can't pull them away,” Tamani said, “but it does feel like an inefficient use of resources, doesn't it?”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “That's how I've felt most of the past year,” he said wryly.

Tamani swallowed the retort that sprang to his lips. He would have thought the same if he were an unaffected observer. But any effort was worth it when you were guarding someone you loved.

“I wonder—” He cut off sharply. Someone was crashing noisily through the forest, headed in their direction. Aaron and Tamani both darted behind trees, hands poised over their weapons, when two misshapen figures came lumbering through the darkness.
What was this?
For months they'd been combing the forest for trolls, only to have two stumble into
them
? With his free hand, he signaled Aaron.

Mine dies. Yours talks.

Aaron responded with a single nod.

As the first troll passed within arm's length, Tamani stepped out from behind the tree, unsheathing his knife in a sweeping arc that scored a long, shallow gash across the troll's back. The troll spun to face him, lashing out with one clawed, gnarled hand—a blind, reflexive counter-attack. Tamani sidestepped the blow easily, then, with a savage thrust, buried his knife to the hilt in the troll's eye socket. He gave the blade a sharp twist and the creature crumpled to the ground.

A short distance away, Aaron had scored several cuts on the other troll's arms and legs, slowing its movements. Crippling a troll wasn't easy—better to just kill them quickly—but Tamani needed information. Fortunately, two weapons could cripple a troll faster than one. Bracing one foot against the fallen troll's neck, Tamani wrenched his knife from its skull. Rivulets of blood, black in the starlight, pulsed from the wound. He looked up just in time to watch Aaron's back vanish into the darkness; apparently, the other troll had decided it was time to run. Tamani considered going after them, then decided against it. Aaron was more than capable.

Instead, he took the fallen troll under its arms and dragged it away from the path, in case any more came this way. Once he was far enough, he searched the body for any evidence of what it might be doing here. It was unarmed—not that trolls had any real need for weapons—and dressed in a muddy burlap poncho and black coveralls. No clues there, except perhaps that Barnes's trolls had often dressed similarly. The creature's pockets were empty, no hint of where he came from or who he was after.

Kicking at the corpse with his foot, Tamani crept back to the path, then followed the trail Aaron had left, finding him less than a minute later. His knife was sheathed and he looked unharmed, but there were no trolls to be seen, crippled or otherwise.

“I lost him,” Aaron said, shaking his head.

“You
lost
him?” Tamani asked incredulously. “He was two feet in front of you!”

“Thanks for that, Tam. Because I wasn't feeling like enough of a failure,” Aaron said caustically.

“Tell me what happened.”

“He just . . . vanished.” He kicked at a tuft of earth. “I've tracked down scores of trolls in my time, and nothing like this ever happened until I came here.”

“Did he go to ground?” Tamani asked, scanning the undergrowth for signs of burrowing.

Aaron shook his head. “I was watching for that. I was chasing him and he was in my sight. I went for a throwing knife—I was going to hamstring him—and I looked down for a second. Half a second, even. And he was gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“Gone! Gone like summer. Gone like mist. I'm telling you, Tamani, that troll disappeared. There wasn't even a trail!”

Tamani folded his arms over his chest, trying to comprehend this. Aaron was one of the best trackers he'd ever met. If he said there wasn't a trail, there wasn't a trail. But that didn't mean it made any sense.

“I thought I heard footsteps,” Aaron continued. “But even those disappeared soon enough.”

Tamani swallowed hard, trying to suppress the niggling fear in his stomach.

“Send out scouts,” Tamani said quietly. “Try to pick up the trail.”

“There is no trail to pick up,” Aaron insisted. Then he pulled back and stood a little straighter. “I will follow any order you give me, Tamani. And if you want a dozen scouts crawling over this forest, you shall have them. But they won't find anything new.”

“What else can we do?” Tamani asked, failing to keep the desperation from his voice. “I have to keep her safe, Aaron.”

Aaron hesitated. “Which one?”

Tamani paused; were they watching Yuki or protecting her? “Both,” he said at last. “These trolls could have been headed for either house. Have we seen anything else?”

“Stripped cow carcasses, paths broken through the trees. The same thing we've been seeing for months,” he said, staring toward the horizon. “They're out there, even if we can't see them.”

“Any chance it's been just these two?” Tamani asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Not unless they're eating for twelve. Or twenty. I think these ones just got sloppy.”

“It's more than that,” Tamani said, shaking his head. “They seemed almost . . . confused. I'm sure they were surprised to see us, but they weren't even armed. Mine barely put up a fight.”

“Mine didn't put up much of a fight either,” Aaron agreed.

“I have to go soon,” Tamani said quietly after a moment. “Laurel is going to Eureka for some kind of test. I'll be trailing her. You're in charge of the Wildflower. We haven't seen Klea in weeks—she should be coming round any day now. If she does, I need you to listen to everything they say and let me know. Even if it's something you don't think is relevant. I want to know every word they say.”

Aaron nodded stoically and Tamani turned, sprinting through the forest toward Laurel's. He slowed to a walk as he approached the tree line behind her house and saw the glow of lights in the kitchen. A wave of warmth washed over him as her face appeared in the window, looking out at the trees. Looking for him.

She didn't know he was there, but it was easy to pretend otherwise as he watched her. Her eyes were still a little sleepy and she was popping berries into her mouth, one at a time, chewing thoughtfully. He could almost imagine they were having a conversation. Something trivial and meaningless, instead of the weighty discussions they were forced to have these days. Something other than trolls and potions and lies.

When he had accepted—practically begged for—this new mission, he'd assumed he would be able to spend more time with Laurel, recapture the friendship and intimacy they'd known in their youth—something he had felt a little last year when he brought her to Avalon. But that all seemed like a joke now. His duties required him to watch her with David every day, and to spend his time trying to charm someone else. Yuki was nice enough, but she wasn't Laurel. Nobody was Laurel.

Tamani smiled as Laurel continued to stare out the window. He wanted to step out from behind his tree, just to see what she would do.

There might be time. One conversation over breakfast, about nothing more complicated than the beauty of the sunrise. He had almost worked up the courage to do it when he heard that familiar engine tick. He cursed under his breath as David's Civic rolled up the driveway. Then he was sprinting again, to the hedge down the street where his own car was parked. He didn't want to see their greeting, the kisses and embraces that David so casually received.

Someday
, Tamani told himself.
Someday it'll be me.

“So?” David asked as they exited the classroom, four hours of testing behind them.

“Don't ask me yet,” Laurel said, panic creeping into her voice as she shouldered her backpack and walked down the long hall toward the exit and some much-needed sunshine. They'd driven to a high school in Eureka to take the test—the same classroom with no windows. Laurel had felt every minute of her confinement and intended to make up for them as quickly as possible. As she crossed over the shadow of the threshold, a gentle autumn breeze caressed her face. She breathed deeply and stopped walking, spreading her arms to embrace the sunlight. Then she sank down onto the unfamiliar front steps and just savored being done.

After a minute or so, David sat down beside her. “I brought you something.”

He handed her a cold bottle of Sprite he must have just gotten from a vending machine. Even the condensation against her fingertips was revitalizing. “Thanks.”

He waited as she opened the bottle and took a long swallow. “You okay?” he finally asked.

“Better now,” she said with a smile. “I just had to get out of that room.”

“So . . . ,” he said, broaching the subject carefully. “How did it go?”

She smiled. “I think I did okay. Better.”

“Yeah?”

“How 'bout you?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Hard to say.” He paused. “Boy, I'd like to beat Chelsea though.”

“You're so bad. Your GPA is, like, point-oh-two better than hers. Can't you let her win this one?”

David grinned. “We've been competing since junior high. It's all in good fun—I promise.”

“Good,” Laurel said, leaning in for a kiss, then letting her head rest against his shoulder.

“So,” David said, a little hesitantly, “how about this Sadie Hawkins dance?”

Laurel laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, couldn't they have waited one more week and held it in November? You know, around Sadie Hawkins Day?” She snorted. “They just don't want the anti-Pagan-zealot parents up in arms again, like last year. It's just a Halloween dance without costumes.”

“Still,” David said, “it could be fun. Not that I'm asking you,” he said, touching her nose, “because it's ladies' choice, but
if
you were to ask me, and
if
Chelsea were to ask Ryan, and
if
the two of you decided to go together, maybe we could all go together. That's all I'm saying,” he said with a grin and a shrug.

“That's an awful lot of ‘ifs' there, buddy,” Laurel drawled. “I certainly hope you undertake your venture under propitious circumstances.”

“You're awful,” David said, leaning forward to kiss her again.

“Yeah,” Laurel agreed, “but you love me.”

“Yes, I do,” David said, his voice low and throaty. “I love you with great profundity.”

“You're doin' it wrong,” Laurel said, giggling as David's lips tickled her neck.

“It's all I could come up with on the fly,” David said, laughing. “I admit to being bested by you.” He pulled back, so he could look her in the face. “Again.”

Laurel just grinned.

“Laurel, really,” David said, then paused. “I'm way proud of you.”

“David—”

“Please let me say it,” David interrupted. “It's got to be hard to get disappointing scores and then buckle down and study for a test you already took, especially when it might not matter what you get. I think that's really admirable.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said seriously. Then she grinned. “And you did use
that
word correctly.”

“Come here, you!” David said, grabbing her arm and pulling her across his lap, squeezing her as she squealed and laughed.

David dropped Laurel off at her house just as the sun was disappearing over the horizon, setting the sky afire. As she watched him drive away, she wondered what she would do if her scores really did improve.

“Laurel!”

Laurel jumped when the loud whisper sounded from around the side of her house. She looked over and saw Tamani poking his head out from behind the wall.

“Do you have a second?” he said, inclining his head.

After a moment of hesitation she laid her backpack down on the porch and followed him. “What do you need?” she asked, her voice low. “Is there trouble?”

“No, no, not really,” Tamani said. “Well, kind of. We . . . we found some trolls this morning.”

“You
what
?”

“We took care of it,” Tamani said, putting his hands out to calm her. “I just don't want you to think I'm hiding anything from you. Honestly, it's probably better that we've found them now.”

“Why?” Laurel asked, hesitant to believe that.

“Because it means we've actually seen one. We hadn't seen any in months.”

“But everything's okay?” Laurel said, almost sarcastically.

“It really is. We're still on high alert, but I don't want you to worry. Anyway, that's not what I came here to say,” Tamani said apologetically. “I just wanted to talk. It's been a while.”

That was true; Laurel had been avoiding him all week. Because he'd kissed her, and she didn't want to talk about it. Because David didn't like him. Because he was looking at Yuki the way he used to look at her.

When she didn't respond, Tamani shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the lawn. “So how did everything go today?”

“Fine, I think I did well.”

“Good.” He paused. “Have you done any more experiments? Maybe with the globe?”

Laurel sighed. “No. I think you're right that I should try the phosphorescent on my skin first. But I keep putting it off because then I won't have any more excuses before I have to clip a bit off my blossom like I originally planned. You probably think I'm a wimp. I mean, you bit your tongue open and I'm scared of clipping my petals.”