Spells (18 page)

David pulled his face back and studied her, staring until Laurel giggled self-consciously. “What?”

David’s mouth, usually so quick to smile, stayed serious. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “And not just because of what you look like. Everything about you is beautiful. Sometimes I’m afraid this is the most awesome dream ever, and I’m going to wake up someday.” He chuckled. “And quite frankly, you being a faerie isn’t exactly helping.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the glade. “Well,” she said coyly, “I guess I’ll have to prove to you just how real I am.” She pressed herself close against his chest and lifted her head to kiss him again.

LAUREL SPRAWLED DOWN ON HER BED WITH A
smile. It had been such a great day—and a break she really needed. With a contented sigh she spread her arms out and something sharp hit her elbow. She glanced over at a familiar-looking square of ribbon-bedecked parchment. A nervous jolt shot through her and she hoped this wasn’t an early summons to come back to the Academy for the winter break in December. Much as she had enjoyed her summer in Avalon, she didn’t want to spend the rest of high school being summoned to the Academy every time she had a break from school. She had a life!

Hesitantly, she pulled the ends of the ribbon and opened the folded square. A thrill of excitement replaced her dread.

Then, scribbled in boyish script at the lower right hand corner of the invitation, was a note.

Nothing else.

She touched the signature at the bottom. It said so much and yet so little. There was no closing; not “Love, Tam” or “Your Tam.” Or even “Sincerely, Tam.” But he had signed it Tam, not Tamani. Maybe it was in case someone else opened the invitation. Or maybe he had noticed that she only called him Tam when they were having a particularly close moment.

And maybe it meant nothing at all.

Besides, that was the least of her concerns. How was she going to make this work? She couldn’t tell David. Not after the way he had reacted last time she’d gone to see Tamani. Suddenly she wondered how much today was inspired by the long Saturday she’d just spent at the land. Telling David she wanted to go spend another entire day in Avalon—escorted by Tamani—probably wouldn’t sit well with David right now.

But a festival in Avalon! It was a chance she couldn’t pass up. She’d want to go even if Tamani couldn’t be there.

She didn’t like lying to David, but in this case, maybe it was for the best. There were some things it was just better if your boyfriend didn’t know. Besides, David was fascinated with Avalon. It seemed almost selfish to tell him where she was going when he couldn’t come. The faeries would never let a human enter Avalon. Maybe it really
was
better all around if he just didn’t know.

The more Laurel thought about it, the more anxious she felt about the whole thing. She pushed the invitation under her pillow and, in an effort to distract herself, sat down at her desk, pulling out her sugar-glass components. When the first vial shattered—as if on cue—Laurel sighed. She started again.

November first was a Saturday; David would probably be working. That was helpful, at least a little. But her social life was fairly limited. If she wasn’t at home, in school, or at work, she was always with David. Well, and sometimes Chelsea.

Chelsea!
She could say she was doing something with Chelsea. Her brilliant idea fizzled almost as soon as it came into being. Chelsea didn’t even lie for herself; she certainly wouldn’t lie for Laurel.

Still, Laurel couldn’t bear the thought of missing the festival. She didn’t have any clue what it might be like, but she knew exactly what she would wear. It was the perfect opportunity to wear the dark blue gown she’d picked up near the end of her stay in Avalon. Though she had felt a little guilty taking it at the time, now it seemed like kismet.

Smiling in anticipation, Laurel put down her diamond tube and surveyed her work. She hadn’t given a conscious thought to the mindlessly repetitive task since the first vial shattered in her hand.

There, lined neatly at the top of her desk, sat four perfectly formed sugar vials.

That Friday, Laurel sat at the kitchen counter, toiling over her Spanish homework. There were only about six weeks until finals, and conjugating verbs in the past imperfect remained a complete mystery. Her petals hung limply behind her; two had already fallen out, and Laurel’s relief managed to crowd out her disappointment. It felt dangerous to be in bloom while trolls were stalking her. There hadn’t been any more scares in the last few weeks, but then, she and David had been extremely careful. They rarely hung out anywhere except at Laurel’s house, and even at school Laurel kept her full kit in the bottom of her backpack and carried it around at all times.

She’d been working extra hard on her Avalon studies as well. This week’s success with the sugar-glass vials had renewed her confidence; unfortunately, it had been dwindling again as her attempts at potion brewing continued to fail. She hadn’t even managed to make another vial since Monday. And now she’d run out of ingredients for the monastuolo serum, which left her mixing fertilizers or insect repellents—not exactly the kind of thing that would come in handy against a troll. But she couldn’t stop practicing, not when so many people were depending on her to get things right.

With tonight being Halloween, Laurel’s stress level was ratcheted up a notch. She didn’t like the idea of a bunch of people running around in masks. What was to keep trolls from terrorizing the town? On top of that, her mom and dad had volunteered for a Halloween program where the kids went trick-or-treating at local businesses. Laurel would have felt much more comfortable with them being home, where she—and, more importantly, her faerie sentries—could keep an eye on them. But that would require telling them about the trolls, which was unlikely to go over well. Particularly seeing as how Laurel’s mom was already in perpetual shock over the existence of faeries. No, it was better that they were blissfully ignorant. Besides, the trolls weren’t after her parents; they were after her.

As if sensing her thoughts, Laurel’s mom came downstairs and grabbed the coffeepot, filling her travel mug with dark, hours-old coffee. “I gotta head back to the store,” she said, her eyes studiously avoiding Laurel’s blossom—or what was left of it. “I won’t be back till late. You’re having friends over tonight to help hand out candy, right?”

“In about half an hour,” Laurel said. That had been her brainchild. She couldn’t protect everyone, but at least she could keep Ryan and Chelsea safe. Not that Laurel really felt the trolls represented much of a danger to them, but something had Laurel feeling universally paranoid tonight.

“Have fun,” her mom replied, popping the lid onto her mug. She took a sip and made a face. “Ugh, this is terrible. Well, the candy’s in the top cupboard.” She gestured vaguely.

“Great! Thanks for picking that up.” Laurel smiled, probably trying a little too hard, but it was better than not trying at all.

“No problem. And there should be plenty, so you can eat some too.” She hesitated, and her eyes met Laurel’s. “I mean, not you specifically. Obviously you don’t eat it. But, you know, David and Chelsea and—I gotta go.” She breezed past Laurel, fleeing the awkwardness. It was always like that; things would be good for a while, then something would remind Laurel’s mom just how strange life had truly become. Laurel sighed. Moments like these always depressed her. The disappointment was just starting to wash over her when her mom cleared her throat from behind Laurel’s right shoulder.

“Um,” she said tentatively, “you seem to be falling apart.” She was looking down rather strangely at three more petals that had fallen out while Laurel was doing her homework. Her mom paused for a second and looked like she would turn and head out the door, but then she changed her mind and leaned down and picked up a petal. Laurel sat still and held her breath, trying to figure out if this was a good thing or not. Her mom held the long petal—bigger than any other she’d ever seen on a regular plant, Laurel was sure—and then lifted it toward the window, watching the sun shine through it. Another pause and then her mom looked over at her. “Can I…do you mind if I take this with me to the store?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost timid.

“Sure!” Laurel said, cringing as her voice filled the room—too bright, too cheery.

But her mom didn’t seem to notice. She nodded and tucked the petal carefully into her tote. She glanced down at her watch and sucked in a loud breath. “Now I really am late,” she said, whirling toward the door. She took two steps, then stopped and turned. As if breaking through an unseen barrier, she rushed back and hugged Laurel. Really hugged her.

It was too short—only a few brief seconds—but it was
real
. Without another word, her mom strode out, her heels clicking on the wood floor as she opened the door and shut it hard behind her.

Laurel sat on her stool, smiling. It was a small step, and by tomorrow it might not mean anything, but she was willing to take it for what it was worth. She could still feel her mom’s hand on her back, the warmth of her cheek, the faint lingering smell of her perfume. Familiar, like a long-lost friend coming home.

The front door swung open suddenly, startling her out of her reverie, and Laurel crumpled a page in her book, barely managing to bite off a scream. She ducked behind the island in the kitchen and heard soft footsteps heading toward her. Had a troll managed to get past the warding around her house? Jamison had said it would block all except the strongest trolls, but it wasn’t foolproof.

Laurel thought of her sentries outside. Where were they? The footsteps stopped at the base of the stairs. He was between her and the back door. Laurel took a quick moment to reach up and grab a knife from the block on the counter.

The butcher knife. Awesome.

Maybe she could surprise him, get him with the butcher knife somehow, and get to the back door before he could catch her. It was a big risk, but she didn’t have any other choice. If she could just make it out the back door where the sentries could see her, she would be safe. She snuck around to the kitchen doorway and raised the knife in front of her chest. The footsteps were coming closer.

David’s familiar form stepped around the corner. “Whoa!” he cried, jumping back with his hands held out in front of him.

Laurel froze, the butcher knife still clutched in both hands as shock, fear, relief, and mortification crashed over her all at once. With a grunt of disgust she slammed the knife down on the counter. “What is
wrong
with me?”

David stepped forward and pulled her to him, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I’m early. I saw your mom backing out of the driveway and she told me to just go in. I should have thought, and knocked, or—”

“It’s not your fault, David. It’s mine.”

“It’s
not
your fault, it’s—it’s just everything. The trolls, Halloween, Klea…” He ran his hands through his hair. “We’re both totally wound up.”

“I know,” Laurel said, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. Forcing herself to change the subject, she said, “I had a good moment with my mom just before you got here.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Laurel nodded. “I’ve been waiting for things to get better for almost a year. Maybe…maybe they’re starting to.”

“It will work out.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” David said, his lips trailing down her face and behind her ear. “You’re too beautiful for anyone to stay mad at too long.”

“I’m serious!” she said, her breath quickening as his lips caressed the side of her neck.

“Oh, I’m serious too,” he said, his hands sliding up the skin on her back. “Very, very serious.”

She laughed. “You’re
never
serious.”

“Serious about you,” he said, his hands coming to rest at her hips.

She melted against him and his arms went around her back for a few seconds before he pulled away.

“What?” she asked.

He pointed at the floor. Two petals were lying on the carpet. “We should probably pick those up before Chelsea and Ryan get here,” he said teasingly.

“No kidding. The whole thing will be gone by tomorrow. Thank goodness.”

“We could try to get them all rubbed off right now,” David said, cocking his head toward the couch.

“As nice as that sounds,” Laurel said, tapping her fingers gently against his chest, “Chelsea and Ryan will be here any minute.”

“They won’t be shocked—they make out at school, like, constantly,” he said with a grin.

Laurel just looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Fine.” He kissed her once more, then walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Can’t you keep anything stocked in here except Sprite? Some Mountain Dew, maybe?”

“Sure, ’cause that would be a
great
color for my eyes and hair,” Laurel said sarcastically. “Besides, the caffeine would make me sick.”

“I didn’t say
you
had to drink it,” David replied, opening a can of Sprite and handing it to her. “Just keep it around in case somebody else wants it.” He opened his own can and slid onto a stool at the bar. “Chelsea isn’t going to expect us to dress up to hand out candy or anything, is she?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“No, I checked to make sure,” Laurel replied. “No one’s dressing up except me.”

“You’re dressing up?” David asked skeptically.

“Yep. I’m pretending to be a human.”

David just rolled his eyes. “Walked right into that, didn’t I?” He looked down at her crumpled Spanish book. “Studying?” he asked. “It looks like your book is taking it pretty hard.”

“I was, till I got distracted trying to kill you with the butcher knife.”

“Oh, yes, that was fun. We must do it again sometime.”

Laurel groaned and leaned her head into her hands. “I could have killed you,” she said.

“No way,” David said with a grin. “I was totally prepared.” He reached behind him and pulled out the black gun.

Laurel jumped off her stool. “David! You brought your gun into my house?”

“Sure,” he said, completely nonchalant.

“Get it out of here, David!”