Spells

by Aprilynne Pike

  “I don’t blame you for being nervous,” the woman said. “Not after what you’ve just been through, but trust me: I’m one of the good guys.” She raised her gun and performed a series of actions that made a lot of clicks before she stowed it back in a holster at her hip.

  “Who are you?” Laurel asked bluntly.

  The woman smiled, her white teeth bright in the moonlight. “Klea,” she said. “Klea Wilson. And you are?”

  “That was…that was, wow!” David stuttered, ignoring her question. “You were amazing. I mean, you just came in and they…well, you know.”

  Klea stared at him for a long time, one eyebrow arched. “Thank you,” she said dryly.

  “How did you—” David started to ask, but Laurel cut him off with a quick yank on his arm.

  “What were those things?” Laurel asked, trying to sound innocent without being too fake. “They didn’t look…human.”

  David looked down at her, confused, but a quick glare wiped the question off his face. Despite everything, Laurel was determined to keep her wits about her, and the most important thing was not to reveal who she was to this stranger—even if she was, as she claimed, “one of the good guys.”

  Klea hesitated. “They were…a species of animal like you’ve never encountered before. Let’s just say that.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I still haven’t caught your names.”

  “David. David Lawson.”

  “David,” she repeated, then turned to Laurel.

  Laurel wondered if there was any point in trying to withhold that information. But it wasn’t like it would be hard to find out. Finally she murmured, “Laurel.”

  Klea’s eyes widened. “Laurel Sewell?”

  Laurel looked up sharply. How did this woman know who she was?

  “Well,” Klea said softly, almost to herself, “that explains a lot.”

  David rescued Laurel from her bafflement by changing the subject. “How did you know we were—?” David gestured wordlessly to the center of the clearing.

  “I’ve been tracking these…subjects for several hours,” Klea said. “It was only when they started chasing your car that I realized what they were doing. Sorry for cutting it so close, but I can’t run as fast as you can drive. Good thing they forced you off the road when they did; I’d have never gotten here in time.”

  “How do you—?” Laurel started.

  “Listen,” Klea said, “we can’t just hang around here talking. We don’t have any idea how far their reinforcements might be.” She walked over to the tree where her metal disc was stuck. She retrieved it, then looked up at David, meeting his eyes for the first time. “Would you two mind giving me a ride? I’ll take you somewhere safe and we can talk.” She turned her gaze to Laurel. “We really need to talk.”

  Laurel’s mind was screaming out against the idea—to not trust whoever Klea was. But she had just saved their lives. Besides, David was only too eager to agree.

  “Yeah. Sure. Of course!” he said. “My car…it’s just down—well, you know where it is. I can totally give you a ride—um, except, well, it’s kind of stuck, but…” His voice trailed off, and an awkward silence filled the clearing.

  Klea stowed the metal disc in a wide case that attached to her back. “I imagine the three of us can push your car free. Let’s go.” And she strode off in the direction of the car.

  David turned to Laurel, both hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes darting over her, looking for wounds.

  Laurel nodded. Okay probably wasn’t the best word, but she was alive. He gave a relieved sigh and wrapped his arms around her, his hand pressing painfully against her blossom. But Laurel didn’t care. She burrowed against his shoulder, wishing she could burst into relieved tears. But that would have to wait. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he whispered.

  “I’m alive,” she said skeptically. “I don’t know about safe yet. How are your knees?”

  David shook his head. “They’re going to be way sore tomorrow, but at least I’m walking.”

  “Good,” Laurel said, her breathing still a little fast. Then, remembering his moment of idiocy, she slapped her hand against his chest. “And what the hell was that giving-yourself-up thing?” she demanded.

  David grinned sheepishly. “It was all I could think of at the moment.”

  “Well, don’t you ever do anything like that again.”

  David didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he shrugged and turned toward the car. “We’d better go.”

  “Hey,” Laurel said, one hand reaching up to touch David’s cheek. “You go ahead, I’ll be there in a second,” she whispered. “I have to tie up my blossom. But,” she said sharply, “don’t tell her anything. I don’t trust her.”

  “She just saved us from the trolls,” David countered. “She was awesome!”

  “I don’t care! She’s a stranger and she knows something. You can’t tell her anything!” It was different for David—he wasn’t the one who had something to hide. “Now go, before she gets suspicious. Tell her I dropped my purse.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said firmly.

  “It’ll just take a second,” Laurel said. “I have to tie up my blossom. Now please go. She’s looking up at us.” Klea had reached the bottom of the hill and was peering up at them through the darkness. “She’s going to come back up here if she doesn’t see you soon.”

  With a long look and a squeeze of her hand, David reluctantly headed out of the trees and down the hill.

  Laurel untied the knot around her waist and bent her petals down. The spot on her back still stung like an open wound. She gritted her teeth and bound the petals tightly. As soon as she pulled her shirt down over the blossom, she hurried out of the trees, forcing herself not to run. She picked her way down the hill in the dim moonlight and almost shrieked when she tripped and found herself face-to-face with a troll. She threw herself backward and started to scramble to her feet when she realized the troll wasn’t moving. She crept back to it and saw that it was the troll who had gotten a face full of monastuolo serum. Apparently there were ways around the open-air limitation.

  She had only seconds to make her decision. Klea would want to see the unconscious troll—maybe kill it. But bright red lines streaked across the troll’s face where the serum had splashed and burned him; Klea would know Laurel or David had done something. And if Klea knew anything about Laurel at all, it would just make things worse. Laurel couldn’t alert Klea to the troll’s presence without also exposing her faerie potion. Trembling, Laurel stood, continued down the hill, and didn’t look back, wondering how long the serum would last. The sooner they were out of there, the better.

  David’s car sat right where they had abandoned it, front tire wedged into the mud, with its headlights shining into the dark night and the passenger doors wide open.

  “It’s pretty mired,” Klea said, her eyes lifting only briefly to acknowledge Laurel’s return, “but I think you and I can push it out, David.” She reached out and punched his arm lightly. “You look like a strong guy.”

  David cleared his throat like he was going to say something, but nothing came out.

  “Laurel, would you steer?” Klea asked as she pushed up the sleeves of her shirt.

  After slipping into the driver’s seat, Laurel watched as David followed Klea to the hood of the car and they braced their hands against the bumper. She still wasn’t sure what to think. Five minutes ago she had thought her life was over—and, without Klea, she had no doubt it would have been. So really, what were they supposed to do? Leave the woman who had saved their lives stranded on the side of the road just because she knew Laurel’s name somehow? There was nothing to do but take her wherever it was she wanted to go. Once the car was out, anyway. But it was all too weird. Laurel wished she had more time to process the situation.

  Laurel cranked the wheel as David and Klea pushed. After a few tries, the Civic slowly came loose and Laurel backed it up onto the r
oad. After putting on the parking brake, she joined them as they stood studying the car, looking for damage. Or, more precisely, Klea studied the car while David stared at Klea.

  “It could definitely use a good wash,” Klea said, “but it looks like you’re not going to have any souvenirs.”

  “All the better,” Laurel said.

  “So,” Klea said, stepping out of the glare of the headlights, “shall we go?”

  David and Laurel exchanged looks, and Laurel gave him a nod. There was no way to silently indicate that there was an unconscious troll not fifty feet away.

  They loaded into the car, David hurrying to open their doors for them as if it were just another night, and they were off. It took a short, silent argument with David, but Laurel remained at the wheel.

  Klea directed her as they drove along. “It’s only about a mile or so,” she said. “We move our camp constantly. The only reason I’m letting you guys see it tonight is that it will be somewhere else tomorrow.”

  “What kind of camp?” David asked.

  “You’ll see,” Klea said. “Turn right here.”

  “I don’t see a road,” Laurel said.

  “You’re not meant to. Start turning, and you’ll see it.”

  With a stoic nod Laurel began edging the Civic to the right. Just behind a large clump of bushes she spotted a hint of a road. She eased onto it and drove through a thin curtain of branches that scraped at the doors and windows. But as soon as she had passed through that, she found the Civic on two parallel tracks, obviously recently cut.

  “Cool,” David said, leaning forward in his seat.

  For about a minute they traveled silently up the dark, narrow road, Laurel becoming more and more certain that they were driving into a trap. If only she hadn’t forgotten her backpack! Then the road turned sharply to the right, revealing three camping trailers in a well-lit circle. In front of two of the campers sat two black trucks that would have been at home in a monster truck arena. Their deeply tinted windows reflected the glare from several bright floodlights, mounted on tall poles, that filled the camp with a stark, white light. Smaller lamps hung over each of the entrances to the trailers. Just outside of the light two brown horses were tethered to a stake and several swords and large guns were laid out on an aluminum picnic table. The sinking pit in Laurel’s stomach told her that she and David had just gotten in over their heads.

  “Whoa,” David said.

  “There’s no place like home,” Klea said wryly. “Welcome to camp.”

  They all got out of the car and walked toward the camp—Klea purposefully and Laurel and David more tentatively. A handful of people buzzed around, completing various tasks with hardly a glance at Laurel and David. Like Klea, they wore mostly black.

  “Laurel, David, this is my team,” Klea said, gesturing to the people meandering about. “We’re a small lot, but we work hard.”

  David took a step toward a low, white tent that glowed from within, as though a dozen lanterns were burning inside. “What do you have in there?” he asked, craning his neck as a man slipped in, releasing a bright beam of light over the entire area for just a moment before the flap fell shut.

  “As they say, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Klea said with just a touch more seriousness than Laurel was comfortable with. Klea paused beside one of the black trucks and reached into the bed to grab a khaki-colored shoulder bag. “Come on over here,” she said, gesturing to a picnic table set up near the center of camp.

  Laurel gripped David’s hand as they followed Klea to the table. Now that they were there, they might as well get what answers they could. There was no way they could make a break for it. Laurel wasn’t sure whether she was now in more or less danger than when the trolls were chasing them.

  They sat as Klea pulled a manila envelope out of her bag and slipped her mirrored sunglasses down from her head to cover her eyes. The camp was brightly lit, but Laurel found the gesture weirdly melodramatic. Klea riffled through the contents of the envelope, removing a glossy photograph that she slid over toward Laurel. “What do you know about this man?” she asked.

  Laurel looked down at the snarling face of Jeremiah Barnes.

  SIXTEEN

  SUPPRESSING A SHUDDER, LAUREL STARED IN SHOCK at the face that had haunted her nightmares for almost a year. Her hand, wrapped around David’s, convulsed into a tight grip.

  “I’ve spent several years looking for him…” Klea said. “Well, him and others like him. But the last time we caught up with him—a couple months back—he had a business card in his pocket with some names on it.” She looked up at Laurel. “One of them was yours.”

  Laurel’s hands started to shake at the thought of Barnes carrying her name around with him. “And you just took down my name and sent him on his merry way?” Laurel kept her voice low, but there was a hefty dose of hiss in it.

  “Not…exactly.” Klea’s eyes flitted back and forth before she leaned forward, sliding the picture back into its envelope. “He…was stronger than we expected. He escaped.”

  Laurel nodded slowly, struggling to keep her trembling to a minimum. Despite what Jamison had said, Laurel held on to a tiny hope that Barnes really had died after getting shot last year. But this was proof—undeniable proof—that he was still around. And hunting her.

  “You don’t seem surprised. So you do know him?”

  Lie, lie, lie! her mind was shouting. But what good would that do? She’d tipped her hand the moment she recognized Barnes. It was too late to deny everything. “Sort of. I had a run-in with him last year.”

  “Not many people walk away from run-ins with this guy.” Klea’s tone was flat, but the implied question was painfully obvious. Why are you still breathing?

  Laurel’s thoughts immediately centered on Tamani, and she almost smiled. She forced herself to look down at a spot on the table. “I just got lucky,” she said. “He put his gun down at the wrong time.”

  “I see.” Klea was nodding now, almost sagely. “Cold steel is about the only thing this man fears. What did he want with you?”

  Laurel stared up into Klea’s reflective shades, wishing she could see the woman’s eyes. She had to come up with something—anything—to conceal the truth.

  “You can tell her,” David said after a long pause.

  Laurel shot him a glare.

  “I mean, they sold it already; no one can take it from you.” What was he talking about? His hand squeezed her thigh meaningfully, but cover stories were David’s thing—Laurel was no good at lying. The best she could do was play along. She covered her face with her hands and leaned against David’s chest, pretending to be too distraught to talk.

  “Her parents found this diamond when they were…renovating their house,” David explained.

  Laurel hoped Klea didn’t catch the tiny pause.

  “A huge one. This guy tried to kidnap her, for ransom or something.” David stroked her shoulder and patted her back. “It was a very traumatic experience,” he assured Klea.

  David, you are brilliant.

  Klea was nodding slowly. “Makes sense. Trolls have always been treasure hunters. By their very nature, and because they need money to blend into our world.”

  “Trolls?” David asked, propping up their charade. “Like, live-under-bridges, turn-to-stone-in-sunlight trolls? Is that what those creatures were?”

  “Did I say trolls?” Klea asked, her eyebrows arching comically over the rims of her sunglasses. “Oops. Well”—she sighed, shaking her head—“I guess once you’ve seen them, you may as well know what they really are.” She looked at Laurel, who was sitting back up again, wiping away pretend tears. “It’s a good thing your parents sold the diamond. At least Barnes probably won’t be hunting them. However,” she said, “you seem to have found a permanent spot on his radar. There’s no way those trolls were at your party tonight by chance.” She paused. “I don’t believe in coincidences that big.”

  “What would he want with me now?”
Laurel asked, exchanging a quick glance with David. “The diamond is gone.”

  “Revenge,” Klea answered simply. She turned her face to Laurel, and Laurel could feel the intensity of Klea’s gaze even through the sunglasses. “It’s pretty much the only thing trolls love more than treasure.”

  Laurel recalled Jamison saying almost the same thing on her last day in Avalon. It seemed rather absurd to find truth in this bed of lies.

  Klea reached back into her bag, removed a small gray card, and held it out to Laurel, who took it tentatively. “I belong to an organization that…tracks…supernatural beings. Trolls, mostly, because they’re the only ones that work to infiltrate human society. Most of the others avoid it at all costs. This here is my team, but our organization is international.” She leaned forward. “I believe you are in great danger, Laurel. We’d like to offer our assistance.”

  “In exchange for what?” Laurel asked, still suspicious.

  A hint of a smile played at Klea’s lips. “Barnes escaped me once, Laurel. He’s not the only one with a score to settle.”

  “You want us to help you catch him?”

  “Certainly not,” Klea said, shaking her head. “Untrained children like you? You’d only get yourselves killed. And, no offense, but you’re kind of…small.”

  Laurel opened her mouth to retort, but David squeezed her leg sharply and she bit her tongue.

  Klea was pulling another piece of paper out of her bag; this time, a map of Crescent City. “I’d like to place some guards around your house—yours, too, David—just in case—”