Tamani was smiling helplessly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Laurel laughed. “Me either! And that’s kind of the problem. I think Katya’s right, that different kinds of faeries must process light differently. Like, I like sunlight, but I don’t really use it in my Mixing. And Spring faeries . . . I think you guys are adaptable. I mean, you stay up all night sometimes, right?”
“Frequently,” Tamani said, in a weary tone that suggested that he’d been staying up a lot of nights lately.
“And the sentries in Hokkaido can withstand enormous amounts of cold.”
Tamani hesitated. “Well, yes, but they have help from the Fall faeries with that. They make them a special tea from—”
“White Bryony, I remember,” Laurel said. “But still, the energy has to come from somewhere. And the Winter faeries use a ton of energy when they . . . what?” she demanded, when Tamani got a strange brightness in his eyes.
“Listen to you,” he said, pride creeping into his tone. “You’re amazing. You totally get this stuff. I knew you would slip right back into being a Fall faerie.”
Laurel hid a smile as she cleared her throat and busied herself meaninglessly with an already-powdered mixture at the bottom of her mortar.
“So what do we do?” Tamani asked.
“I don’t know. I still don’t think we should drink this stuff. I wondered if it might have an effect on our skin—”
Immediately, Tamani offered her his forearm.
“—but I’m not about to start trying stuff at random. Mixing is pretty hands-on,” Laurel said. “I mean touch-dependent,” she amended. “I mean—before I try anything, I want to get a feel for your cellular makeup, which means I need to touch . . . you.”
Could that possibly have come out any worse? Laurel thought dismally as she watched Tamani try—and fail—to suppress his amusement.
“Okay,” he said, again holding out his hand, which was sparkling with pollen and looking more than a little magical.
“Actually,” Laurel said slowly, “what I’d really like to do is have you—” Pause. “Take your shirt off and then go to the window and sit in the sunlight. That way your cells can start actively photosynthesizing after having been at rest and I can hopefully feel that activity.”
“That almost makes sense,” Tamani said with a smirk. He walked over to her window seat and sat, then waited for her to come sit behind him. She was careful not to actually let any part of them touch. Not just because it wasn’t a good idea and severely hampered her concentration, but she had learned that if she could keep the rest of her body away from any kind of plant material, her fingers seemed more receptive.
“You ready?” Tamani asked, his voice soft and vaguely suggestive.
Laurel glanced out the window. The sun had just popped out from behind a cloud. “Perfect,” she said quietly. “Go ahead.”
Tamani stretched his long arms over his head, pulling off his T-shirt.
Laurel struggled for focus. She moved her hands to Tamani’s back and splayed her fingers over his skin. Her fingertips pressed in just a little as she closed her eyes and tried to feel, not Tamani in particular, but his cellular dynamics.
She cocked her head to the side as the sun warmed the back of her hands. It took her only a moment to realize her mistake. She was now blocking Tamani’s skin from the sun’s rays. With a frustrated sigh, she lifted her hands, and placed them back down, this time lower and along one side of his ribs where the sun had just been shining. She felt him shift a little, but she was in concentration mode now, and even Tamani couldn’t affect her.
Much.
Laurel had learned from Yeardley how to feel the essential nature of any plant she touched. He assured her that, with study and practice, this feeling would eventually tell her everything she needed to know about a plant—particularly, what it could do if mixed with other plants. She should be able to do the same with Tamani. And if she could find some way to feel the differences between the two of them . . .
But every time she thought she’d felt something, it faded. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she kept blocking the sunlight, or because the differences she was looking for simply didn’t exist. And the harder she tried, the less she seemed to find. By the time she realized she was squeezing Tamani so hard her fingers were aching, she couldn’t feel any difference at all.
She let go of Tamani and tried not to notice the subtle divots her fingers had left in his back.
“Well?” Tamani asked, turning to her and leaning against the window without making any move to put his shirt back on.
Laurel sighed, frustration washing over her again. “There was . . . something, but it’s like it went away.”
“Do you want to do it again?” Tamani leaned forward, bringing his face close to hers. He spoke softly, genuinely. No trace of flirting or teasing.
“I don’t think it would help.” She was still trying to sort out the sensations she felt in her fingertips. Like a word on the tip of her tongue, or an interrupted sneeze, so close that staring at it would only chase it away. She closed her eyes and placed her fingers against her temples, massaging them slowly, sensing the life in her own cells. It was as familiar as ever.
“I wish . . . I wish that I could . . . feel you better,” she said, wishing she knew a better way to say it. “I just, I can’t quite get at what I’m trying to reach. It’s like your skin is in the way. At the Academy I would slice my sample open, but obviously that’s not an option right now,” she said with a laugh.
“What else do you do when you can’t figure out what a plant does? Besides cut it open, I mean,” Tamani asked.
“Smell it,” Laurel responded automatically. “I can taste the ones that aren’t poisonous.”
“Taste?”
She looked up at Tamani, at his half smile. “No,” she said, instantly knowing what he had in mind. “No, no, no, n—”
Her words were cut off as two pollen-dusted hands cupped Laurel’s cheeks and Tamani pressed his mouth against hers, parting her lips with his own.
Stars exploded in Laurel’s head, their rainbow ashes coalescing into a torrential pastiche, a rapid-fire flipbook of flower parades and crazy. Through her head, unbidden, fleeting, and difficult to grasp, poured thoughts that made her giddy and queasy at once. Mix with zantedeschia stamens for a potent antitoxin. Age revitalization in animals if fermented with amrita. Injectable Enticement block, rose petals, photo-resistor, salve daisies balm tincturepoisonnectardeath—Laurel jerked away from Tamani, too dazed to slap him.
“Laurel? Laurel, are you all right?”
Laurel slumped back into her chair and brought her fingers to her lips.
“Laurel, I—”
“I asked you not to.” Laurel could tell that her tone was flat. Distant. But her mind was reeling. She knew she should be furious, but Tamani’s presence barely registered at all, blocked out by the sensations that had assaulted her mind.
“You weren’t going to do it. I had to at least try. I didn’t mean anything by it—”
“Yes, you did,” Laurel said. Research was a convenient excuse, but Tamani had seen an opportunity and taken it. Fortunately for him, it had worked. Sort of. She looked up, numbly, at Tamani. Gradually it dawned on her that he had no idea what just happened.
“You want me to apologize? I will, if it’s that important to you. I’m—”
Laurel put one finger to his lips, silencing him. At the touch of him the overwhelming flow of information didn’t return, but the images were fresh in her memory. Is that how it always feels, for the other Falls? she wondered. Or was that a fluke?
Her expression must have been perplexing, because Tamani stepped backward, out of Laurel’s reach, and held his hands up, palms out, pleading. “Look, I just thought—”
“Shut up,” Laurel said. Her tone was still flat, but she wasn’t feeling quite so numb anymore. “We’ll deal with that later. When you kissed me, I got all these . . . ideas.
For potions I’ve never heard of.” She thought of the way the word poison had invaded her mind. “I think maybe they’re forbidden.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been doing it wrong, Tamani. I don’t need to touch you. I might need to test my potions on you, assuming I find the right plants, but touching you won’t tell me how to make potions for you.”
It took him a moment to process what she was saying. “What did it tell you, Laurel?”
“It told me how to make potions from you.”
“Holy Hecate, petals, branches, and breath,” Tamani swore, his face lined with concern. “You can do that?”
“With study and practice,” Laurel said quietly. How many times had Yeardley spoken those words to her? “I . . . I don’t think that was something I was supposed to know about,” she said softly. “I don’t know why.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Surely the other Falls know?”
“I don’t know. Nobody’s ever said anything. Why . . .” She was having trouble forming a coherent thought. Who in their right mind would think to use other fae as ingredients? “Why didn’t that happen before?” she finally demanded. “It’s not like I haven’t . . . kissed you before.”
Tamani’s grin was a little pained now. “Um, I may have bitten down on my tongue pretty hard just before I kissed you.”
Laurel’s thoughts jerked to a stop. “That’s disgusting!”
“Hey,” Tamani said with a shrug, “you said you cut things open and taste them, and I knew you weren’t going to try either of those things on your own.”
He was right. Clearly it had made a difference. Casually touching him—or even kissing—wasn’t enough. And yet . . .
“You should probably go,” Laurel said sternly. The numbness was fading. Tamani had kissed her! Without permission. Again! She knew she should be furious, but somehow anger couldn’t pierce the shock she felt at her new discovery.
“If it makes you feel better, it really hurt,” Tamani admitted, his jaw at a funny angle.
“I’m sorry. And at least this time you didn’t do it while David was watching,” Laurel added. “But you shouldn’t have done it at all.”
Tamani simply nodded before turning and silently exiting the room.
As he left, Laurel brought her hand once more to her lips and lost herself in thought. Not thoughts of Tamani, for once. Thoughts of potions, powders, and poisons she somehow knew she was never supposed to learn.
Chapter Thirteen
THERE WERE FLOWERS IN LAUREL’S LOCKER ON MONDAY. Not big flashy roses. Just hand-picked wild ones tied with a ribbon, which was how she knew they were from David. He wasn’t the kind to make a big deal out of gifts—drawing more attention to himself than to the sentiment.
Which was why she found the jealous, possessive David so perplexing.
“I’m sorry,” David said, stepping quietly up behind her.
Laurel looked down at the flowers, but said nothing.
“I was totally out of line. I freaked out.” He leaned his back against his locker and ran his hands through his hair. “I just don’t like him being here. I haven’t from the beginning. I’ve tried to hide it and deal with it, and I guess I snapped last week.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Laurel said, avoiding his eyes as she stacked books in her locker.
“I know,” David said. “That’s what I’m trying to say and apparently failing. It’s not your problem, it’s mine.” He turned to her now, his blue eyes earnest. “It’s just that I know what he wants, and I don’t want him to have it. Trust me,” he added, trying to laugh away the tension, “if you had a girlfriend as cool as mine you would turn into a freak at the thought of losing her too.”
“I had a boyfriend as cool as your girlfriend,” Laurel said, not turning around.
“I’ll do better,” David said, leaning against his locker now so he could see her face. “I promise.”
Laurel stared at her locker, not wanting to admit that half of her anger was at herself. She wanted David to trust her, to know that she wasn’t going to let Tamani steal her away. But David had every reason to be suspicious of Tamani—and how could she ask David to trust her when she wasn’t even sure she trusted herself?
“I should have called sooner,” David said, pulling Laurel from her thoughts.
“I should have replied to your email,” Laurel admitted. “I was going to. I kinda wimped out.”
“So . . . are we okay?” David asked hesitantly.
This was the moment—the moment to tell him everything. To admit that she was in the wrong as much as he was. She opened her mouth, and—
“Hi, Laurel.”
Laurel and David both turned to look at Tamani as he delivered his morning greeting. Laurel looked up at David again, and lost her nerve.
“Yeah, we’re okay,” she said quietly.
David released a sigh and wrapped his arms around her. “Thanks,” he said softly. “I really am sorry.”
“I know,” Laurel said, guilt smoldering in her stomach.
After a pause he added, “So, we didn’t get to do SAT stuff this weekend. How about this week?”
Laurel sighed, wishing with all her heart right then that she hadn’t agreed to retake them. “Can’t we study for something else? I don’t even know why you’re bothering with them. You scored more than seven hundred on every section last time.”
“Yeah, but that was ages ago. I really think I can do better this time.” He stopped. “Plus I want to be supportive of you.”
Laurel pursed her lips. She didn’t particularly enjoy being reminded that her scores from last spring weren’t great. Thus actually preparing this time.
“Anyway,” David rushed on, “we always study together and I wanted to make sure we could still do that.”
“Absolutely,” Laurel said, laying a hand on his arm. “I’m not going to stop doing things with you just because you’re a jerk.” Laurel smiled to let him know she was kidding and, after a tiny hesitation, he laughed.
“So, after school?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.” He hesitated and then chanced a quick kiss. “I love you,” he said.
“I know,” Laurel replied, then wondered where that response had come from.
“I’ll walk you to class.”
As Laurel shouldered her backpack she caught sight of Tamani leaning against Yuki’s locker, smiling and chatting with her. As if sensing her watching him, Tamani looked over and met her eyes for the smallest of instants before turning right back to Yuki and smiling again.
Laurel didn’t realize she had stopped walking until she felt David’s fingers pulling her forward. She quickly caught up. “Well, well, well,” she said quietly.
“What?” David asked.
“Tamani’s really making . . . progress with Yuki.”
David turned a little and looked across the hall where Tamani and Yuki were still chatting, Yuki clearly hanging on Tamani’s every word. David shrugged. “Wasn’t that the plan?”
“Sort of,” Laurel said, wondering why Tamani’s friendliness bothered her so much. Was it because he had succeeded in befriending Yuki after Laurel had failed? “I guess I thought he was trying to convince her to be my friend.”
After kissing David distractedly, Laurel walked into her Government class, took her regular seat, and waited for Tamani to come and sit beside her. She could feel a headache coming on. Great. Just the thing to round out her morning.
Tamani came running in and slid into his seat just as the final bell rang. He was wearing a pair of black leather gloves with the fingers all cut off at the first knuckle.
“What are those?” Laurel said, wrinkling her nose. “Fingerless gloves went out of style before . . . mullets. You look like a dork.”
“Better a dork than a freak with glitter coming out of his hands,” Tamani hissed darkly. “As far as these kids know, they’re all the rage in Scotland.”
Laurel felt bad for not realizing; after
all, it was being around her blossom that brought pollen to his hands. “Oh. What are you doing with Yuki? I thought you were supposed to be getting us together, not hooking up with her,” she whispered as Mrs. Harms called attendance.
“I am not ‘hooking up’ with her,” Tamani hissed.
“Could have fooled me,” Laurel muttered.
Tamani shrugged. “I have a job to do here,” he whispered. “I do what it takes.”
“Including taking advantage of a clueless fae?”
“I’m not taking advantage of her,” Tamani whispered back, a little heat creeping into his tone. “I’m just being friendly. And if it turns out she’s completely innocent in all this, then she’ll have someone who can answer all the questions she has about herself.” After a long pause he added, “It worked pretty well with you.”
“Didn’t work that well,” Laurel said caustically. “I’m not exactly your girlfriend, am I?” She turned back to the front of her class before Tamani could answer and raised her hand. “I have a massive headache; can I run to my locker real quick?” Laurel asked the teacher. Laurel didn’t want to think about Tamani or David right now. It just made her feel worse about everything.
Stupid boys.
“Dendroid,” David said, looking up from his SAT prep book.
Laurel groaned. “Aren’t we done yet? I think we’ve reviewed, like, two hundred words already.” She wasn’t even exaggerating. It had been a good day though. Monday and Tuesday had both been a little awkward, but things had fallen back into their usual rhythm and now Laurel was actually getting something out of her studying again. They quizzed each other, rewarding correct answers with kisses, and for a break, finished up some homework for their individual classes in companionable silence. It felt like things were getting back to normal.
Laurel liked normal.
“Just this last one,” David insisted. “It’s fitting.”
“Dendroid,” Laurel said, scrunching up her face. “A machine that lives in the ground?” she said with a grin.
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