Spells (23 page)

Desperation coursed through her and she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, forcing herself not to cry. The last thing she could afford to do was fall to pieces. She ran to her car, sliding into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door shut. She stared at her dark, empty house. It had protected her for months; even before she knew about the sentries and the powerful wards. But she couldn’t stay. She had to leave the protection of the wards. She knew it was what the trolls wanted. But she didn’t have a choice; there was too much at risk. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to jam the key into the ignition and start the engine, peeling out backward, her tires spinning on the asphalt as she jerked the car into first gear and kept a wary eye on her rearview mirror.

Driving the half mile to David’s house felt like it took hours. Laurel pulled up in front and studied the familiar structure that was practically a second home to her.

She felt like a stranger now.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she got out of the car and sprinted up the front walk. She heard the front bell reverberate through the living room and tried to remember when she had last rung the doorbell at David’s. It seemed so formal, so unnecessary.

David’s mom answered the door. “Laurel,” she said cheerfully. But her smile died away when she saw Laurel’s face. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Can I see David?”

David’s mom looked confused. “Of course, come in.”

“I’ll stay out here, thanks,” Laurel murmured, her eyes aimed at the ground.

“Okay,” David’s mom said hesitantly. “I’ll go get him.”

It was a long wait before the door opened again. Laurel looked up—afraid it would only be David’s mom. But it was David, his face stony, eyes flashing. He paused, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Don’t do this, Laurel. I’m only here because my mom’s home and she doesn’t know what happened yet. But you need to—”

“Barnes has Chelsea.”

The anger drained instantly from David’s eyes. “What!”

Laurel handed over the note. “At the lighthouse. I know you’re mad at me but—” Her voice cut off, her breathing sharp and painful, but she forced her fear back. “This is bigger than us. Bigger than
this
. I need you, David. I can’t do this alone.”

“What about your sentries?” David asked, wary.

“They’re not there! I called for them. They’re gone.”

David hesitated, then nodded and ducked back into the house. She heard him yell something to his mom, then he was back on the porch, lugging his backpack as he pulled his jacket on. “Let’s go.”

“Will you drive?” Laurel asked. “I have…something I have to do.”

After grabbing her own backpack from her car, Laurel joined David in his car.

“We have to go get Tamani,” David said, his voice hard.

Laurel was already shaking her head.

“Laurel, I don’t care about you and him right now. He’s our best chance!”

“It’s not that; we don’t have time. If I’m not at the lighthouse by nine, he’s going to kill Chelsea. We have”—Laurel glanced at her car’s clock—“twenty-five minutes.”

“Then you go to the lighthouse and I’ll drive out to the land and bring him back.”

“There’s not time, David!”

“Then what!” he yelled, his frustrated voice filling the car.

“I can do this,” Laurel said, hoping she was telling the truth. “But first I have to stop by my mom’s store.”

Laurel banged on the front doors of Nature’s Cure until her mom came out of the back room, where she always did her closing paperwork. “Laurel, what in the wo—”

“Mom, I need dried sassafras root, organic hibiscus seeds, and ylang-ylang essential oil fixed in water instead of alcohol. I need them right now and I need you to not ask questions.”

“Laurel—”

“I don’t have a single minute to waste, Mom. I promise I will tell you everything—
everything
—when I get home, but right now I beg you to please just trust me.”

“But where are you—”

“Mom,” Laurel said, grabbing both her mother’s hands. “Please listen. Really listen. There’s more to being a faerie than just having a flower on my back. Faeries have enemies. Powerful enemies, and if I don’t get these ingredients from you and go take care of them right now, people are going to die. Help me. I
need
you to help me,” she pleaded.

Her mom stood confused for a moment before nodding slowly. “I take it this isn’t something for regular old human police?”

Tears welled up in Laurel’s eyes; she didn’t even know what to say. She didn’t have time to argue.

“Okay,” her mom said determinedly, walking down an aisle and peering at the small bottles that lined both sides. She quickly plucked the ingredients from the shelves and handed them to Laurel.

“Thanks,” Laurel said, and started to turn.

Her mom stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. Laurel turned as her mom gathered her into her arms, hugging her tight. “I love you,” she whispered. “Please be careful.”

Laurel nodded against her shoulder. “I love you too.” She paused, then added, “And if anything happens, do
not
sell the land, promise?”

Her mother’s eyes filled with fear. “What do you mean?”

But Laurel couldn’t stop. She tried not to hear the desperation in her mom’s voice as she followed her to the door. “Laurel?”

Laurel was already out the door and slipping into David’s car. “Go,” she commanded, trying to block out her mother’s last yell.

“Laurel!”

Laurel looked back, her eyes fixed on her mother’s white face as her father burst out of the bookstore, both her parents staring at the car as it drove away.

“
DID YOU GET WHAT YOU NEEDED?” DAVID ASKED
as he headed toward the Battery Point Lighthouse.

“I got it,” Laurel said, already pulling out her mortar and pestle.

“What are you making?”

“You just drive, and we’ll see if I can avoid blowing up your car, okay?”

“Ooookay,” David said, sounding less than confident. They drove silently, the scraping of Laurel’s pestle playing a sinister duet with David’s tires humming against the asphalt. They drove to the south side of Crescent City and the clock on the dashboard marched inexorably forward.

8:43

8:44

8:45

They pulled into the deserted parking lot of the Battery Point Lighthouse and Laurel remembered coming here with Chelsea more than a year ago. She remembered Chelsea’s bright smile as she explained all about the landmark she was so attached to. As they pulled into the parking spot closest to the island, a lump grew in Laurel’s throat as she considered the possibility that she might not see Chelsea again.

At least, not alive.

Laurel shook the thought away and tried to grasp the slightly unfocused calm she had accidently achieved when she made her first perfect sugar vials last week. She threw some hibiscus seeds in the mix and crushed them with determination, forcing herself to focus on happy memories with Chelsea, fighting not to let her fears intrude.

She was startled by David’s hand on her arm. “Should we call the cops?” he asked.

Laurel shook her head. “If cops come, Chelsea will die. I guarantee it. The cops, too, probably.”

“You’re right.” David paused. “What about Klea?”

Laurel shook her head. “I just can’t make myself trust her. There’s something—something wrong about her.”

“But Chelsea…” His voice trailed off. “I just wish we had something else—someone else.” His fingers tightened painfully on her arm. “Please don’t let them kill her, Laurel.”

Laurel shook in a dusting of powdered saguaro cactus needles and held the mixture up against the dim glow of a streetlight. It reflected the low beams just the way it was supposed to. “I’m going to do my best,” she said quietly.

After pouring the mix into one sugar-glass vial, Laurel measured several drops of oil into a second vial, completing the monastuolo serum. It looked right; it
felt
right. She hoped it wasn’t her desperation speaking. If it worked, Jeremiah Barnes and his new lackeys would go to sleep, and once Chelsea was freed they could go get Tamani. He would know what to do. Laurel stuffed the vials into her jacket pockets and started to open her door. They’d already wasted too much time just sitting here in the parking lot while she finished the potion.

“Wait,” David said, his hand on her arm.

Laurel’s eyes darted to the dashboard clock that was rushing through minutes far too quickly, but she stayed. David dug into his backpack and when he withdrew his hand, he held the small Sig Sauer Klea had intended for Laurel. Laurel focused on the gun for a few seconds, then looked up at David.

“I know you hate it,” David said, his voice quiet and steady. “But it’s the only thing we know for sure can stop Barnes. And if it comes down to his life or Chelsea’s”—he laid the gun in Laurel’s shaking hand—“I know you’ll have the strength to make the right choice.”

Laurel’s hands were shaking so badly she could hardly wrap her fingers around the icy-cold grip, but she nodded and stuffed the gun into the waistband of her jeans, pulling her jacket down to conceal it.

They exited the car, both staring up at the lighthouse, where a spot of brightness shone out from the upper floor. Then she and David walked out to the path that led up to the lighthouse.

It was three feet under the ocean.

“Oh, no,” Laurel said under her breath. “I forgot about the tide.” She stared out at the lighthouse, about a hundred meters away across the churning water. She would make it—it wasn’t that far—but the salt would work into her pores. It would sap her strength instantly and linger for at least a week.

Without speaking, David scooped her up in his arms. He walked to the edge of the water and after the slightest hesitation, stepped in, his long, powerful legs striding easily though the frothy currents. He gasped as the bitterly cold water crawled up to his knees, his thighs, his hips, and after about a minute Laurel heard his teeth chatter for a second before he clamped his jaw shut. But he couldn’t stop shivers from coursing through his body. Laurel tried to support as much of her own weight as possible, with her arms twined around David’s neck, but even the wind was fighting them tonight, whipping against their jackets and through Laurel’s long hair, stirring the seawater into choppy waves.

Right in the middle where the water was the deepest—up to David’s waist—a large wave slapped at him and he staggered, almost dumping them both into the water. But with a small grunt of determination he found his footing again and slogged on.

It seemed like ages before David stumbled up the other side, onto the island with the small lighthouse. He put Laurel down gently before wrapping his arms around himself and breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” Laurel said, her words seeming so insufficient.

“Well, I hear that getting hypothermia once a year is good for the soul,” David said, his voice shaking as shivers wracked his whole body.

“I—”

“Let’s just go, Laurel,” David interrupted. “They’ve got to know we’re here.”

Soon they stood in front of the door. It was ajar. Someone was waiting.

“Do we knock?” David whispered. “I’m not exactly up to speed on my hostage situation etiquette.”

Laurel put a hand to her waist, checking to make sure the gun was still on one side, and the vials of potion on the other. “Just push it all the way open,” she said, wishing her voice wasn’t shaking so badly.

David complied.

It was dark.

“No one’s here,” David whispered.

Laurel’s eyes searched the room. She pointed to a tiny needle of light that decorated the opposite wall. “They’re here,” she said, thinking back on Jamison’s flytrap metaphor. “But we won’t see them until we’re in too far to get away.”

Even so, they crossed the lower room slowly, then carefully opened the door to the stairs. Dim light spilled in from somewhere above. Laurel put her foot on the bottom step.

“No,” David said, his hand on her shoulder. “Let me go first.”

Guilt flooded through her. Even after everything she’d done, he was still willing to put his life before hers. She shook her head. “He’s got to see me first. Just to be sure.”

They were less than five steps up when David gasped sharply. Laurel glanced back and saw that two trolls had come into the lighthouse behind them. These were not the dirty, unkempt trolls that had chased them from Ryan’s home, however. They were both wearing clean black jeans and long-sleeved black shirts, and they were pointing shiny chrome handguns at David’s back—not that they had any need for the guns. Laurel knew they could break her in two with ease.

One was bizarrely asymmetric—the left half of his body was withered and gnarled, but the right half would have looked at home on a world-class bodybuilder. The other troll’s face looked remarkably human, but the bones in his shoulder were twisted and uneven, pulling one shoulder back and one forward, twisting his legs as well, so he moved with a strange, shuffling gait.

David looked up at Laurel with wide eyes, but she shook her head, faced forward again, and continued climbing. They reached the top of the stairs and were greeted by two more trolls, also armed. These looked more like the goons who had thrown Laurel and David into the Chetco last year, with drooping cheekbones, offset noses, and mismatched eyes. One even had a shock of red hair combed back from his fearsome face. But of course it couldn’t be Barnes’s old lackeys; Tamani had disposed of them. Laurel paid them no heed and turned the corner at the top of the stairs.

“Chelsea!” She gasped as her friend came into view.

Chelsea was blindfolded and trussed to a chair with a gun at her head. “Finally,” she grumbled.

“I told you she’d come,” said a gravelly, all-too-familiar voice. “Laurel. Welcome.”

Laurel’s eyes left Chelsea and traveled to the man who held the gun against Chelsea’s temple. The face, the eyes that haunted her dreams—even more than a year later.

Jeremiah Barnes.

He looked the same—
exactly
the same. From his broad, football-player shoulders to his very slightly crooked nose, and those dark brown eyes that looked black from across the room. He was even wearing a rumpled white shirt and suit pants that completed the eerie sense of déjà vu and made her feel like she was trapped in one of her own worst nightmares.

“Little Miss Noble. You even brought your old human friend to die with you. I’m impressed.”

The trolls surrounding them chuckled. Trying not to draw attention to herself, Laurel flexed her hand, crushing the glass vials together in her pocket, letting the two elixirs mix. The glass jabbed into her hand and she forced herself to breathe normally as the serum reacted, burning her fingers as it became a hot steamy vapor that Laurel hoped Barnes wouldn’t notice. She just needed a few minutes…if it worked.
Please work,
she begged in her head. “No one’s here to die, Barnes. What do you want?”

Barnes laughed. “What do I want? Revenge, Laurel.” He smiled dangerously. “How about this? I shoot you in the shoulder, so you know how it feels, then we go down to that old cabin and you show me where the gate is. Then, if you’re not dead by that point,
maybe
I’ll put you out of your misery.”

“And what about my friends?” Laurel asked. She met Barnes’s eyes, glare for glare. “
If
I agree,” she said steadily, “what happens to my friends?”

The potion burned on her fingers and Laurel longed to pull her hand out of her pocket and rub the liquid away. But it was too risky. She gritted her teeth and continued staring at the hulking troll.

Barnes licked his lips and grinned. “I’ll let them go.”

It was blatantly obvious that he was lying, but Laurel played along. “Let them go now,” she said, stalling for time, “and we’ll go to the land.”

“Right. I don’t think so. You faeries are tricky bastards, especially when you’re fighting a losing battle. Your friends go when—and only when—you’ve shown me the gate.”

“No deal.”

Barnes turned the gun on Laurel now.

She didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to bargain,” he said. “We’re going to do it my way. I’ll tie you up, toss you in my Hummer, and we’ll go down to Orick. It’s that, or you all die here tonight. Oh, and we can take care of that shoulder thing now,” he said, lowering the gun so it pointed at her shoulder. Laurel closed her eyes and flexed her entire body, waiting for the impact.

“No,” David said, yanking her backward and stepping in front of her. “I won’t let you.”

Barnes laughed his harsh, almost wheezing laugh, making Laurel’s skin crawl. After so long she still remembered that laugh with absolute clarity. “Won’t let me? Like you can do anything about it, little boy,” Barnes taunted. He gestured to the other trolls. “Get him out of here.”

One troll grabbed Laurel by the shoulders to keep her still, then the redheaded troll closed his hand around David’s arm, but David was ready. He spun, breaking the troll’s grip, and swung his fist. It hit with a resounding
crack!
and the troll staggered back two steps.

Laurel watched in horror as David cradled his hand, then wound up to try again. She couldn’t move—couldn’t yell for him to wait, to be patient—without giving herself away. He’d saved her from Barnes’s gun and now he would suffer instead of her.

“David?” Chelsea’s voice sounded so small, so helpless, Laurel felt a lump grow in her throat.

The next troll was faster, kicking out one leg and catching David in the chest. Laurel grimaced and tried to pull away as she heard at least one rib crack under the impact of that foot, but the troll holding her maintained his iron grip. She glanced at Barnes; he was watching with an amused smile on his face, his gun still trained on her. She hated his smug smirk. Just looking at him made her a lot less upset about the gun she had tucked away.

“David!” Chelsea yelled again as a strangled groan escaped David’s mouth.

“Chelsea, it’s okay,” Laurel called, but she could hear the terror in her own voice. “Please just hold still.” To Laurel’s relief, she stilled instead of trying to wiggle away from the thick, calloused fingers clenched at her neck.

The half-bodybuilder troll threw a punch at the helpless, hunched David, but it was strangely slow and off center, so it glanced off David’s cheekbone—though still hard enough to split his skin. The troll spun awkwardly, stumbling and landing on the floor.

“Get up, you stupid oaf!” Barnes yelled as the other trolls grabbed David’s arms, but the fallen troll didn’t move. The one with the twisted shoulders pulled out a loop of rope and moved to secure him. David yanked his arm out of the troll’s grasp and shoved him away; the troll fell to the floor as unconscious as the other.

“What the—” Barnes stammered, clearly confused. The redheaded troll forced David’s arms back behind him and secured him, struggling, to the stair rail. David yanked at his arms, trying to free them, but he couldn’t get loose. He looked desperately at Laurel, blood trailing down his face now, but she was studying the troll beside him. Slowly, so painfully slowly, the troll fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground. Then finally, the troll holding Laurel in place collapsed. A few seconds later David stood, tied securely to the railing, with four trolls at his feet.

Barnes swiftly switched his attention back to Laurel.

She had her gun out and pointed right at his head. “It’s over, Barnes,” she said, forcing back the hysteria that was threatening to erupt. “Put down your gun.”

“Well, you’re not the girl I met last year, are you?” Barnes studied her coolly. “You couldn’t shoot me even to save your little vegetable friend back then. Now you’ve dropped all four of my guys.” He grinned. “You’re still waiting for me to fall, aren’t you?”