Chelsea blinked against the light and rubbed her wrists as Laurel sliced at the ropes around her ankles.
“Can you walk?” Laurel asked gently.
“I think I’ll manage,” Chelsea said, staggering a little. She focused on David. “You don’t look too good, either.”
“You should see the other guys,” David said, smiling wanly. He pulled Chelsea to him, hugging her with more force than Laurel thought his ribs should be subjected to right now. But she didn’t blame him. “I’m just glad you’re alive,” he said to Chelsea.
Laurel wrapped her arms around both of her friends. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this, Chelsea. I never intended…I never meant to…”
“Never meant to what?” Chelsea asked, rubbing at the red marks on her neck. “Nearly get me killed? I certainly hope not. Please tell me that’s not going to be an everyday thing now.” She let out a breath. “What happened here?”
Laurel looked helplessly at David. “Well, um, you see…the thing is…”
“Here,” Chelsea said, sitting down in the same chair they’d just untied her from and crossing her legs. “Let me just sit here while you think of a good lie.” She waved her hand at the far side of the room. “Maybe you and David should go confer over in the corner so your stories match. ’Cause that would help. Or,” she said, raising one finger in the air, “you could just tell me that every fall an enormous bluish-purple flower grows out of your back, because apparently you’re some kind of faerie. And then you could explain how these — I think he said trolls? — have been hunting you because you’re hiding a special gate from them. Because personally, I find that the truth keeps life a lot simpler.”
Laurel and David just stood there, slack-jawed.
Chelsea looked back and forth between them in confusion. “Oh, please,” she finally said. “Did you honestly think I didn’t know?”
TWENTY-SIX
KLEA ROWED THEM ACROSS THE WATER IN A WIDE, flat-bottomed boat. “My guys are going to take care of everything here at the lighthouse,” she said. “You two take your friend back to her car, then get yourselves home.”
They lurched to a stop on the beach and a tiny grunt of pain escaped David’s lips. The three friends unloaded and each girl took one of David’s arms, trying to help him walk without letting Klea know just how hurt he was. Though Klea had saved their lives, they had agreed that she should know as little as possible about Laurel. That meant getting David away quickly so that Laurel could take care of him without anyone observing.
“Laurel,” Klea called.
“Keep walking,” Laurel whispered to David and Chelsea. “I’ll be right there.” Then she turned and walked back to Klea.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
“You got here right on time,” Laurel replied.
“Still, if I had been two minutes later.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m glad I had some of my guys watching you tonight. I wish—” She paused, shaking her head. “I wish you had called me. Anyway,” she continued before Laurel could respond, “how did you dispatch those other four trolls? I was amazed.”
Laurel hesitated.
“I looked at those trolls. There are no broken bones, no gunshots, no wounds whatsoever. Out like lights, and I don’t expect them to wake up for hours yet. Are you going to tell me what really happened?”
Laurel pressed her lips shut as she searched for a lie. But she came up blank. She was too tired to think of anything good. But she wasn’t going to tell Klea the truth, either, so she said nothing.
“Fine,” Klea said with a strange smile. “I get it, you have your secrets. You obviously don’t trust me yet,” she said, her voice soft. “But I hope one day you will. Really trust me. You’re clearly not helpless, but I could help you so much — more than you know. Regardless,” she said, turning her gaze back toward the lighthouse, “having actual specimens will be helpful. Very helpful.”
Laurel didn’t like the way Klea said specimens. But she remained silent.
Klea studied her for several long seconds. “I’ll be in touch,” she said firmly. “You’ve proven resourceful and I could really use your assistance in another, unrelated matter — but it can wait a bit.” Before Laurel could respond, Klea spun on her heel and leaped lightly back into the boat, gripping the pole with strong hands.
Laurel stayed just long enough to watch Klea push off the sandy beach before turning and running to catch up with David and Chelsea. They had reached David’s car by the time Laurel joined them. David groaned as he slipped into the passenger seat and Chelsea gripped Laurel’s arm. “We have to get him to the hospital. His ribs have got to be broken and that cut under his eye might need stitches.”
“We can’t go to the hospital,” Laurel said, digging in her backpack.
“Laurel!” Chelsea said, her face white. “David needs help!”
“Relax,” Laurel said, unwrapping a tiny bottle of blue liquid. “Being friends with a faerie has its perks.” She loved being able to say that in front of Chelsea. She unscrewed the top of the bottle and lifted out the dropper, then leaned over David, who was breathing loud, labored breaths. “Open,” she said softly.
David opened one eye and looked at the familiar bottle. “Oh, man,” he said. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all night.” He opened his mouth and Laurel squeezed two drops in.
“Now hold still,” she said, letting one drop fall onto her finger. She gently rubbed it against the gash on his face. “All better,” she whispered as she watched his skin knit back together.
She stood and turned to Chelsea. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Chelsea shook her head. “He was pretty nice to me, considering…” But her eyes were focused on David. “Wait a second.” She leaned over and studied the skin under his eye. “I could have sworn…”
Laurel laughed, and even David joined in quietly. “In a few minutes his ribs and hand will heal too.”
“Are you kidding me?” Chelsea asked with wild, excited eyes.
It reminded Laurel of the way David had reacted when he first found out she was a faerie. She grinned and held up the blue bottle. “It’s useful — David gets beat up by trolls on a regular basis.”
David snorted.
“Why don’t you fix your hand?” Chelsea asked.
Laurel looked down at the burns on her fingers and wondered how she had ever thought she could hide anything from Chelsea. It was hard to tell she was hurt because, unlike humans, her skin didn’t turn red when it burned. The color hadn’t changed at all, actually. But tiny bubbles—blisters, she corrected herself — had formed on her palm and trailed down two of her fingers. She stared at her aching hand in wonder. She’d never had a blister before.
Well, not that she could remember.
“It’s only for humans,” she said softly. “I’d need something else.” She hesitated for a moment. “Hey, Chelsea,” she said slowly.
Chelsea and David both looked up at the serious tone in her voice.
Laurel took a deep breath. “I’m really glad you know I’m a faerie. It helps so much to not have to hide from the whole world. But anyone who knows is automatically in danger. So—”
“It’s okay, Laurel,” Chelsea said. “I’d rather know. You have to take the good with the bad.”
“It’s more than that,” Laurel said. “Stuff like this seems to happen a lot, unfortunately. If you…” She paused and laid a hand on David’s shoulder, glad he didn’t shrug it away. “If you do this with us — join us, I guess — I can’t promise your safety. I’m a dangerous person to be around, and this isn’t just about you. This may put Ryan in danger too. I mean, think about tonight. I didn’t tell you anything and you still got nabbed. So think — think really hard — before you decide that this is really what you want.”
Chelsea looked up at her warily. “Well, I think it’s a little late for that. I’m involved now whether I want to be or not, aren’t I?”
“Well…�
��
David and Chelsea both looked up at her questioningly.
“I could—” Laurel took a deep breath and forced herself to say it. “I could make you forget everything that happened tonight.”
“Laurel, no!” David said.
“I have to give her the choice,” Laurel insisted. “I won’t force her into this.”
“You could make me forget?” Chelsea said, her voice soft and small. “Just like that?”
Laurel nodded, her chest aching at the thought of actually doing it.
“But it’s my choice, right?”
“Your choice,” Laurel said firmly.
Several tense seconds passed before Chelsea broke into a wide smile. “Oh man, I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.”
A relieved breath rushed out of Laurel and she sprang forward to throw her arms around Chelsea. “Thanks,” Laurel said. Although whether she was thanking Chelsea for sharing her secret or for sparing her from having to use a memory elixir, Laurel wasn’t quite sure.
They all loaded into the car — Laurel insisting on driving even though David’s ribs were almost healed — and drove off toward Ryan’s house, where Chelsea had been headed when Barnes took her. Chelsea’s mom’s car had been carefully pushed off to the side of the road a few yards away from a stop sign. It looked so quiet and unassuming. No one would ever guess the circumstances under which it had ended up there. Laurel got out with Chelsea and walked her to the car.
“It’s kind of surreal,” Chelsea said. “I’m going to get in this car and drive back to my everyday life like nothing happened. And no one except me will know that it’s a whole new world.” She hesitated. “Even though I figured the whole faerie thing out — last year, actually,” she said with a giggle. “I do have a bunch of questions. If you don’t mind talking about it, I mean.”
“I don’t mind,” Laurel said, then smiled. “I love that you know, actually. I hate keeping secrets from you.” She sobered. “But not tonight. Go home,” Laurel said, placing one hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. “Hug your family; get some sleep. Then call me sometime tomorrow and we’ll talk. I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she said earnestly. “Anything. Everything. No more secrets. I promise.”
Chelsea broke into a big grin. “Okay. It’s a deal.” She leaned forward and hugged Laurel. “Thanks for saving me,” she said, her voice serious now. “I was so scared.”
Laurel closed her eyes, Chelsea’s curls soft against her cheek. “You weren’t the only one,” she said quietly.
After a long hug, Chelsea stepped back and turned toward her car. She stopped just before slipping into the car and looked at Laurel. “You do know I’m going to call you at, like, six in the morning, right?”
Laurel laughed. “I know.”
“Just checking. Oh,” she added, “and you’ll tell me where you really were this summer, right?”
She should have known Chelsea wouldn’t buy the wilderness retreat. She laughed and waved one more time as Chelsea closed the door and headed on her way, tires crunching loudly in the quiet night.
While Laurel and Chelsea were talking, David had shifted himself over to the driver’s seat. Laurel walked around to the passenger door and let herself in. They drove silently, streetlights periodically illuminating David’s brooding features.
She wished he would say something. Anything.
But he didn’t.
“What are you going to tell your mom?” Laurel asked, more to break the silence than anything.
David was quiet for a long time and Laurel started to think he wasn’t going to answer her. “I don’t know,” he finally said in a weary voice. “I’m tired of lying.” His eyes darted to her. “I’ll come up with something.”
David turned into the driveway, his headlights cutting across the house. He pressed the button on his visor and the garage door rose slowly to reveal two empty spots.
“Oh, good,” David said with a sigh. “She’s gone. With luck I won’t have to tell her anything at all.”
They climbed out of the car and stood there, avoiding each other’s gaze for a long, awkward moment.
“Well, I’d better change,” David said, pointing his thumb at the side door. “My mom trusts me a lot, but even she would wonder why I decided to take a swim in November.” He laughed tensely. “Fully clothed, no less.”
Laurel nodded and David turned away.
“David?”
He stopped, his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at her but didn’t answer.
“I’m going out to the land tomorrow.”
David looked down at the floor.
“I’m going to tell Tamani that I can’t come see him anymore. At all.”
He looked up at her. His jaw was tight, but there was something in his eyes that gave Laurel hope.
“I’ll need to go back to Avalon next summer to attend the Academy, because that’s important. Maybe more important, with Barnes dead. I don’t like what he said…about things being bigger than him. I don’t even know what the consequences of tonight might entail. I—” She forced herself to stop rambling and took a deep breath. “The point is, I’m going to stop trying to straddle both worlds. I live here. My life is here; my parents are here. You’re here. I can’t live in both places. And I choose this world.” She paused. “I choose you. One hundred percent this time.” Tears threatened, but she forced herself to continue. “Tamani, he doesn’t understand me like you do. He wants me to be something I’m not ready to be. Maybe I won’t ever be ready. But you want me to be what I want. You want me to choose for myself. I love that you care about what I want. And I love you.” She paused. “I–I hope that you’ll forgive me. But even if you don’t, I’m still going tomorrow. You told me I need to choose my own life, and I am. I choose you, David, even if you don’t choose me.”
He didn’t look away, but he didn’t say anything, either.
Laurel nodded despondently. She hadn’t really expected instantaneous results; she’d hurt him too badly. She turned to head out to her own car.
“Laurel?” By the time she looked back he’d grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. His lips found hers — so warm and gentle — as his arms snaked around her, holding her against him.
She kissed him back with abandon, all the fears of the evening rushing away and relief flooding through her body. Barnes was dead. And no matter what was going to happen tomorrow, tonight they were safe. Chelsea was safe. David was safe. And he was going to forgive her.
That was the best part.
He finally pulled away and ran one finger down the side of her face.
She laid her head against his chest and listened to his heart, beating steadily, as if only for her.
David lifted her chin and kissed her again. Laurel leaned back against the car, David following, his warm body pressed gently against hers.
Her parents could wait a few more minutes.
It was after eleven by the time Laurel dragged herself to her front door. She paused as she laid her hand on the doorknob. She could hardly believe that only that morning she had left to attend the festival with Tamani. It seemed like months.
Years.
With a long sigh Laurel turned the knob and let herself in.
Her parents were both sitting on the couch, waiting for her. Her mom jumped up as the door swung open, wiping tears from her face. “Laurel!” She rushed over and put her arms around her. “I’ve been so worried.”
It had been a long time since her mom had hugged her like that. Laurel hugged back, squeezing hard, overwhelmed by a sense of security that had nothing to do with trolls or faeries. A sense of belonging that had nothing to do with Avalon. A love that had nothing to do with David or Tamani.
Laurel pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder. This is my home, she thought fiercely. This is where I belong. Avalon was beautiful — perfect, really — magical and exotic and exciting. But it didn’t have this — this acceptance and love that she found among her human fam
ily and friends. Avalon had never seemed so superficial, such an illusion, as right at this moment. It was time she let this be her real home. Her only home.
She heard her father walk up and as she felt his arms encompass them both Laurel was certain she’d made the right decision. She couldn’t live in two worlds, and this world was where she belonged. She smiled up at her parents and sank down onto the couch. They sat on either side of her.
“So what happened?” her dad asked.
“It’s kind of a long story,” Laurel began hesitantly. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, not for a long time.”
And with a deep breath, Laurel began explaining about the trolls, starting all the way back at the hospital the previous fall. She explained why Jeremiah Barnes had never shown up to finish buying the land, and why he had tried to buy it in the first place. She told them about the sentries who had kept them safe. The true nature of the “dog fights” in the trees behind their house. She even told them about Klea; she left nothing out. When Laurel finished relaying the events of that night, her dad just shook his head. “And you did that all on your own?”
“Everyone helped, Dad. David, Chelsea”—she hesitated—“Klea. I couldn’t have done it alone.” Laurel paused and looked over at her mom.
She had risen from the couch and was pacing in front of the window.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Mom,” Laurel said. “I just thought that you dealing with the whole faerie thing was enough without throwing trolls into the mix as well. And I know it’s going to take some time to accept this, too, but from now on, I’ll tell you guys everything, I promise, if you’ll just…if you’ll just listen and still”—she sniffed, trying to hold back tears—“still love me.”
Laurel’s mom turned to her with a look Laurel couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m so sorry, Laurel.”
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