Wild

“You’d have told me not to come, right?” Tamani pressed.

Laurel just raised one eyebrow.

“So I couldn’t tell you,” he said with a shrug.

Laurel reached down, plucked a small fern, and began tearing it to pieces. “Where have you been?” she asked. “Shar wouldn’t say.”

“Mostly in Scotland, like I said in class.”

“Why?”

It was his turn to look guilty. “Training.”

“Training for what?”

“To come here.”

“The whole time?” Laurel said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Tamani nodded.

Laurel tried to push away the hurt that instantly filled her chest. “You knew this whole time that you were coming back and you still left without saying goodbye?” She expected him to look ashamed, or at least apologetic, but he didn’t. He met her eyes without blinking.

“As opposed to waiting for you to come and tell me in person that you were choosing David instead of me and wouldn’t be coming round any more?”

She looked away, guilt crowding out her hurt feelings.

“How would that have done me any good? You’d have felt better – heroic even – and I’d have looked like a fool going off to the other side of the world to play scorned lover.” He paused, taking a bite of the nectarine and chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “Instead, you had to feel the weight of your choices and I got to keep some of my pride. Just a touch,” he added, “since, regardless, I still had to go off to the other side of the world and play scorned lover. I think my mother would say, ‘Same fruit, different bough.’”

Laurel wasn’t sure she grasped the idiom. Even after two summers in Avalon, faerie culture mostly eluded her. But she got the gist of it.

“What’s done is done,” Tamani said, polishing off the nectarine, “and I suggest we don’t dwell on it.” He concentrated for a second before throwing the pit hard at the trees.

A quiet grunt sounded. “Hecate’s eye, Tamani! Was that really necessary?”

Tamani grinned as a tall sentry with closely cropped hair materialised from between the trees, rubbing his arm. “You were spying,” Tamani said, his tone light.

“I tried to give you some space, but you did ask me to meet you here.”

Tamani spread his hands wide in defeat. “Touché. Who else is coming?”

“The others are watching the house; there’s no reason for them to join us.”

“Great,” Tamani said, sitting up straighter. “Laurel, have you met Aaron?”

“Several times,” Laurel said, smiling her greeting. “Several” was probably stretching it, but she was fairly certain they had met once or twice. Last winter she had tried to go out and talk with the sentries – make friends. But they always simply bowed at the waist, which she despised, and said nothing. Still, Aaron looked familiar.

More importantly, he didn’t correct her. He just nodded – so deeply it was almost a bow – then turned back to Tamani.

“I’m not here as a regular sentry,” Tamani began, looking at Laurel. “I’m here to be what I was always supposed to be: Fear-gleidhidh.”

It took Laurel a moment to remember the word. Last fall, Tamani had told her it meant “escort”, and it resembled a word the Winter faeries used for their bodyguards. But it was somehow more. . . personal.

“We had too many close calls last year,” Tamani continued. “It’s hard for us to watch you while you’re at school, or protect you well in crowded places. So I went to the Manor for some advanced training. I can’t blend in with humans as well as you do, but I can blend in well enough to stay close no matter what.”

“Is that really necessary?” Laurel interjected.

Both fae turned to look at her blankly.

“There hasn’t been any sign of trolls – or anything else – for months.”

A look passed between the two sentries and Laurel felt a stab of fear as she realised there was something they hadn’t told her. “That’s not. . . exactly true,” Aaron said.

“They’ve seen signs of trolls,” Tamani said, sitting back down on the fallen log. “Just no actual trolls.”

“Is that bad?” Laurel asked, still thinking that not seeing trolls – for any reason – was a good thing.

“Very,” Tamani said. “We’ve seen footprints, bloody animal corpses, even an occasional fire pit. But the sentries here are using everything they use at the gates – tracking serums, presence traps – and none of them are registering a troll presence at all. Our tried-and-true methods simply aren’t finding the trolls we know are here somewhere.”

“Couldn’t they be. . . old signs? Like, from last year?” Laurel asked.

Aaron started to say something, but Tamani spoke over him. “Trust me, they’re new.”

Laurel felt a little sick to her stomach. She probably didn’t want to know what Aaron had been about to say.

“But I would have come regardless,” Tamani continued. “Even before you told Shar about the lighthouse, Jamison wanted to send me to find out more about Barnes’s horde,” Tamani said. “His death gave us some peace, but a troll like him would have lieutenants, or commanders. I think it’s safe to assume this is merely the calm before the storm.”

Fear was gnawing at her insides now. It was a feeling Laurel had grown used to living without and she wasn’t happy with its sudden return.

“You also gave Klea four sleeping trolls, and it’s probably too much to hope that they simply woke up, killed her, and got on with their lives. It’s possible she interrogated them and found out about you, maybe about the gate.”

Laurel snapped to attention, feeling panicked. “Interrogated? The way she talked, I figured she would just. . . kill them. Dissect them. I didn’t even—”

“It’s OK,” Tamani said. “You did the best you knew how, under the circumstances. You’re not a sentry. Maybe Klea did kill them outright; trying to interrogate them would be suicidal for most humans. And we don’t know how much Barnes told his lackeys, either. Still, we have to prepare for the worst. If these troll hunters decide to become faerie hunters, then you could be in more danger than ever. Jamison wanted to address these new developments, so he changed the plan slightly.”

“Slightly,” Laurel echoed, feeling suddenly weary. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She felt Tamani’s arm slip round her.

“Listen,” Tamani said to Aaron, “I’m going to take her inside. I think we’re done here.”

A soft nudge brought Laurel to her feet and she headed towards her house without saying goodbye. She walked quickly, pulling away from Tamani’s hand, wanting both to put distance between them and exert her independence.

What was left of it, anyway.

She pushed through the back door, leaving it open for Tamani, and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the first piece of fruit she saw.

“Do you mind if I have another one?” Tamani asked. “The one you gave me really helped.”

Wordlessly Laurel handed him the fruit, realising she had no appetite for it.

“What’s wrong?” Tamani asked at last.

“I’m not really sure,” Laurel said, avoiding his eyes. “Everything is just so. . . crazy. I mean –” she looked up at him now – “I’m so glad you’re back. I really am.”

“Good,” Tamani said, his smile a little shaky. “I was starting to wonder there.”

“But then you tell me I’m in all this danger and suddenly I’m afraid for my life again. No offence, but it kind of overshadows the happiness.”

“Shar wanted to send someone else and just not tell you, but I thought you’d rather know. Even if it meant. . . well, all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

Laurel considered. Something inside her insisted it was better this way, but she wasn’t so sure. “How much danger am I really in?”

“We’re not sure.” Tamani hesitated. “There’s definitely something going on. I’ve been here only a few days, but the things I’ve seen. . . Are you familiar with tracking serums?”

“Sure. They change colour, right? To show how old a trail is? I can’t make them yet—”

“No need. We have batches specially made for tracking trolls and humans. I poured some in a fresh track and it didn’t react at all.”

“So, none of your magic works?” Laurel asked, her throat tightening.

“It appears that way,” Tamani admitted.

“You’re not making me feel any safer,” Laurel said, trying to inject some humour with a smile. But the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

“Please don’t be afraid,” Tamani insisted. “We don’t need magic – it just makes things easier. We’re doing everything we can to patrol the area. We’re not taking any chances.” He paused. “The problem is that we don’t actually know what we’re up against. We don’t know how many there are, what they’re up to, nothing.”

“So you’re here to tell me I have to be super-careful again,” Laurel said, knowing she should feel gratitude instead of resentment. “Stay at home, sundown is Cinderella time, and all that?”

“No,” Tamani said quietly, surprising her. “I’m not here to tell you anything like that. I don’t do patrols, I don’t go hunting, I just stick close to you. You live your life and continue with all of your normal activities. I’ll keep you safe,” he said, stepping forward to sweep a lock of hair back from her face. “Or die trying.”

Laurel stood frozen, knowing he meant every word. He misread her stillness as an invitation and leaned forward, his hand cupping her cheek.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath light on her face. A gentle sigh escaped Laurel’s lips before she could stop it and as Tamani drew nearer her eyes began to close on their own.

“Nothing’s changed,” she whispered, his face only a hair’s breadth from hers. “I made my choice.”

His hand stilled, but she sensed the slightest tremor at his fingertips. She watched him swallow once before smiling wanly and pulling back.

“Forgive me. I overstepped.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Same thing you do every day,” Tamani said, shrugging. “The less change to your routine, the better.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Laurel, forcing herself to look him in the eye.

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s me who has to deal with it, not you.”

Laurel looked at the floor.

“I mean it,” Tamani said, shifting subtly, putting more distance between them. “You don’t have to watch out for me or try to be my friend in school. I’ll just be around, and it will be fine.”

“Fine,” Laurel repeated, nodding.

“You know those apartments down on Harding?” Tamani asked, sounding casual again.

“The green ones?”

“Aye. I’m number seven,” he said, his smile playful. “Just in case you ever need me.”

He headed towards the front door and Laurel watched him for a few seconds before reality crept back in. “Tamani, stop!” she said, leaping off her stool and sprinting to the entryway. “Do not go out of my front door with no shirt on. I have very nosy neighbours.” She reached out to grab his arm. He turned and, almost instinctively, his hand rose to cover hers. He stared down at her fingers, so light against his olive skin, and his eyes traced the length of her hand, her arm, her shoulder, her neck. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again his expression was neutral. He smiled easily, gave her hand a squeeze, then released it and let it fall from his arm.

“Of course,” he said lightly. “I’ll go out the back.”

He turned towards the kitchen, then paused. He lifted his hand and touched the necklace he had given her – her baby faerie ring, which hung on its silver chain. He smiled softly. “I’m glad you still wear this.”

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 round 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 favour.”

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 favour?” she asked, grateful her voice sounded steady, strong.

“Can we talk out here?” Klea asked, nodding towards 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 towards 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 elegantly 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 a 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 back in the 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 organisation. 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 travelling 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 scepticism. 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 round, 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 humourlessly. “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.”