Illusions (23 page)

“Everyone's still talking about your fight with David,” Yuki said, her tight laugh completely unconvincing. She hesitated for a moment. “Jun said that he heard you guys were fighting over Laurel or something.”

“Laurel?” Tamani said, hoping he sounded confused. “Laurel Sewell? Why would it be about her?”

“I heard she broke you guys up and said something about choosing.”

“Oh, wow,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “That's crazy. Laurel is cool; she helps me out in Government. Because I'm totally clueless, right? I think she and David both got the wrong idea. If you know what I mean,” he said in a callous, almost mocking tone.

“So, you're not into Laurel?”

“Not like that,” he said, hating the words coming out of his mouth. It felt like blasphemy. “She's really nice. But, I don't know. Not my type. Too . . . blond.”

“What
is
your type?” Yuki asked, her eyes shy now.

Tamani shrugged and smiled a little. “I'll know it when I see it,” he said, holding her gaze until she looked away, embarrassed but pleased.

“DAD'S HOUSE FOR THANKSGIVING THIS YEAR?”
Laurel asked David. They were sitting at a lunch table with Chelsea; their usual spot was a mudhole, thanks to last night's storm, and Chelsea complained that it was too cold. It was almost too cold even for Laurel, so today they were braving the noise and bustle of the cafeteria.

“I wish,” David replied. “If that were the case we would order a bunch of Chinese food and sit around and watch football for three days. Or, more accurately, he would watch football and I'd study for finals. No, my grand-parents called a family reunion in Eureka. They're sure this is the year they're going to die and they have to see everyone before they go.”

“Didn't they pull that one at Christmas last year?” Laurel asked.

“And the year before. They're not even that old. They're, like, five years older than your
parents
.”

It was nice, talking to David again. Laurel tried to get both Tamani and David to tell her what happened during their suspension, but Tamani insisted it was guy stuff and wouldn't discuss it and David was very adept at changing the subject. They seemed to have come to an understanding, a truce,
something
—Laurel couldn't guess what—but they no longer glowered at each other in the hallway, and even exchanged friendly greetings on occasion. They'd also stopped pushing her to choose between them, but Laurel doubted that could last.

“Still, a break's a break, right?” Laurel said.

“Psh. A zillion relatives in one house? I won't get any studying done.”

“I think you're missing the point of
having
a break,” Laurel insisted.

“Are you kidding? I'm way behind.”

“Oh, sure, Mr. Four-point-oh.”

“Four-point-four,” David and Chelsea corrected in unison before looking at each other and laughing. When Laurel raised an eyebrow at him, he said sheepishly, “Honors classes are worth five points, remember?”

Laurel rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You're such a perfectionist.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” David said. He had the decency to blush and look mortified at having slipped into their old banter.

But Laurel only smiled and reached up to squeeze his shoulder. “Yeah,” she said genially. “I do.”

Everyone was silent for a few seconds before Chelsea snorted. “Awkward much?” she asked with a grin.

Luckily, Tamani chose that moment to plunk himself down across the table from Chelsea, eyeing Ryan, who was standing in line for tacos. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Where's Yuki?” Laurel asked, looking around. “Didn't I see her this morning?”

“Yeah, she said Klea was picking her up early. Taking a few extra days off around the break.”

“Still nothing at the cabin?” Laurel asked. David and Chelsea glanced around for eavesdroppers, then brought their heads in close so they could hear what Tamani had to say.

“Not a sound, not a movement, absolutely nothing. I'm starting to think those trolls just ran through the circle and past the cabin.”

“Your guys haven't gone in yet?” Chelsea asked, disbelief shading her voice. “What are they waiting for?”

Leave it to Chelsea to ask the obvious question,
thought Laurel with a smile.

“Shar thinks it's more important to figure out what they're doing. If we bust in, they'll fight to the death, and we won't know any more than we already do.”

“They're inside a cabin,” David said. “Shouldn't Laurel's sleeping potions work?”

“They
should
,” Tamani agreed. “But that's part of the problem. Nothing we've thrown at these guys the last few months has worked. Nothing. And that makes us more than a little nervous about storming the place. Who knows what else is lurking in there?”

“Hey, guys,” Ryan greeted them, sitting down next to Chelsea with his lunch.

Chelsea gave him a perfunctory smile and patted his shoulder.

“So, you guys must have been talking about me, huh?” he said with a grin when everyone was silent.

“Actually, we were talking about faeries,” Chelsea said with exaggerated excitement. When Tamani's eyes grew wide and he glanced over at Ryan, Chelsea smirked. “I was just asking Tam about them. Since he's from Ireland—”

“Scotland, actually—”

“—he probably knows a ton about faeries and magic and stuff. Way more than we do, anyway.”

Tamani's expression was a war between shock and awe. Laurel put a hand to her mouth and did her best not to laugh Sprite right out her nose.

“You know, Chelsea, just because someone's from Scotland—” Ryan began.

“Oh, hush,” chided Chelsea. “Tam was just going to tell us about how faerie enemies can suddenly become immune to magic that has worked on them for centuries.”

“Er . . . ,” Tamani said. “Actually, I have no idea.”

“Good answer!” said Ryan, holding up one hand for a high five. When Tamani stared blankly, Ryan dropped his hand back to the table. “Seriously, if you let her suck you into her faerie world you'll never escape. I swear, sometimes it's like she thinks faeries are real. You should see her room.”

That remark earned him an icy glare from Chelsea. “Guess who
won't
be seeing my room for a while?”

“So,” Laurel cut in, eager to change the subject. “What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Grandparents' house,” said David.

“Grandma's house,” said Chelsea, nodding. “At least she's local.”

“Dad's family is coming up,” said Ryan.

They all looked at Tamani, and Laurel realized she had put him on the spot.

Whoops
.

“It's not really something we celebrate,” Tamani said smoothly. “I'll probably just lie about.”

“You want to come to Thanksgiving at my place?” Laurel asked, catching Tamani before he got out the front doors. He'd been avoiding her the last couple of days and she wasn't really sure why.

He stiffened. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Laurel said, trying to make the invitation sound decidedly casual. “We're not having anybody else over. Yuki's gone. You're going to be hanging around in my backyard anyway, I assume,” she said, forcing a chuckle.

But Tamani still looked concerned. “I don't know. Your parents are going to be there, right?”

“Yeah, so? They know who you are.” She leaned forward, raising her eyebrows now. “And they know all about the kitchen floor.”

Tamani groaned. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“No sweat,” Laurel said with a smile.

He worried his bottom lip for a minute before saying, “It just feels weird. You know, your parents, these humans who raised you. It's just kind of awkward.”

“Awkward because they're my parents, or because they're human?” Tamani didn't answer right away and Laurel reached over to poke his arm. “Come on,” she said. “'Fess.”

“Both. Okay, because they are your human parents. It's just, you shouldn't have human parents. You shouldn't have parents at all.”

“Well, you better get used to it, because my parents aren't going anywhere.”

“No, but . . . you are,” Tamani said hesitantly. “I mean, eventually. Right?”

“I certainly don't intend to be one of those forty-year-olds who still live with Mom and Dad, no,” Laurel said, avoiding Tamani's real question.

“Sure, but . . . you
are
coming back to Avalon, aren't you?”

It was a little harder to avoid when he asked her straight out. She looked down at her hands for a few seconds. “Why are you asking me this now?”

Tamani shrugged. “I've wanted to ask for a while. It just seems like all this human stuff is getting more and more important to you. I hope you aren't forgetting where you . . . belong.”

“I don't know if that
is
where I belong,” she said honestly.

“What do you mean, you don't know?”

“I don't know,” Laurel said firmly. “I haven't decided.”

“What else would you do?”

“I think maybe I want to go to college.” It was strange to say it out loud. She had kind of expected that, without David pushing her to stay in the human world, she would gravitate toward Avalon. But breaking up with David hadn't made up her mind about college, which had forced her to reconsider the possibility that she might want to go, not just for David or her parents, but for herself.

“But why? They can't teach anything at college that would be useful to you.”

“No,” Laurel countered, “they can't teach me anything in college that you think would be useful to
you
. I'm not you, Tamani.”

“But really? More school? That's what you
want
to do?”

“Maybe.”

“Because I gotta tell you, sitting through all my classes is by far the worst part of my day. I don't know how you could want more of that. I hate it.”

“That's basically what I do in Avalon, too. No matter where I go, there's school.”

“But in Avalon you'd be learning stuff that's useful. Square root of a cosine? How is that ever going to be useful?”

Laurel laughed. “I'm sure it's useful for
someone
.” She paused. “But I won't be majoring in math or anything. Besides, I think anything you learn can help you.”

“Yeah, but . . .” He closed his mouth suddenly and Laurel was glad he wasn't going to drag her back into that circular argument. “I just don't understand. This human obsession with schooling, it doesn't interest me. I mean, humans interest me.
You
interest me. Even your”—he hesitated—“
family
interests me. Strange though they are,” he added with a smile.

“So,” she said, “Thanksgiving? Will you come?”

He smiled. “Will you be there?”

“Of course.”

“Then that's my answer too.”

“Good,” Laurel said, looking studiously away. “It'll give me a chance to show you what I've found out about the powder,” she added in a whisper.

“You found something out?” Tamani replied, touching the back of her hand.

“Not a lot,” Laurel said, trying not to feel the calm pressure of his fingertips. “But a few things. Hopefully I'll know more by Thursday. I work on it every night after homework.”

“I never doubted you for a second,” he said, smiling softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

THANKSGIVING HAD ALWAYS BEEN ONE OF LAUREL'S
favorite holidays. She wasn't entirely sure why—she couldn't eat turkey, mashed potatoes,
or
pumpkin pie, at least not the traditional varieties. But there was something about the festivities and the gathering of family that she had always enjoyed. Even when “family” only included the three of them.

This year, her mom was making two Cornish game hens instead of a turkey. “I don't see why I should bother, considering only half of the people here will even be eating it,” she'd joked. It seemed like a good idea to Laurel, though, and the rosemary rub was creating a mouthwatering smell in the kitchen. If you could get past the smell of cooking meat mingled in.

Laurel's mom was working on a big vegetable tray while Laurel put the final touches on her fruit tray. She looked over at her mom to ask if she should slice the strawberries, but her mom was staring out the back window. “Mom?” Laurel said, touching her arm.

Her mom startled and looked over at Laurel. “Should we invite them in?” she asked.

“Who?”

“The sentries.”

Man,
that
was a disaster waiting to happen. “No. Seriously, Mom. They're fine. When we're done I'll take the fruit and veggie trays out and see if they want some, but I don't think they'll come in.”

“You sure?” she asked, gazing out at the trees, maternal concern in her eyes.

“Totally.” Laurel could see it now, a whole bunch of grave, green-clad men standing in their kitchen, alert for danger, jumping at every sound. Very festive.

The doorbell rang and Laurel hopped up from her stool. “I'll get it.”

“I bet you will,” she barely heard her mom say under her breath.

“Mother!” she scolded just before rounding the corner.

She opened the door to Tamani, standing with the sunlight at his back, giving him an ethereal glow. She felt her knees start to wobble and wondered briefly if inviting him had really been the best idea.

He smiled and brought his face close to hers; Laurel took a sharp breath, but he just whispered, “I really don't know what I'm doing. I hope I wasn't supposed to bring something special or anything.”

“Oh, no,” Laurel said, smiling; it was nice to know that, beneath his cool exterior, he did worry about things sometimes. “I just wanted you to bring yourself.”
Stupid, stupid! Like he could leave himself home
. She hated that he still made her tongue-tied.

Her mom was bent over the oven, checking the hens, when Laurel led Tamani into the kitchen. Laurel suspected they didn't really need checking, but it was nice to walk in and not feel like her mom was waiting expectantly. It was a little odd how supportive her parents were where Tamani was involved—her mom in particular was really making an effort. Laurel couldn't help but wonder why.

“Hey, Mom,” Laurel said, “Tamani's here.”

Her mom looked up and smiled, closing the oven. She wiped her hands on her apron and extended one toward Tamani. “We're so glad you could join us.”

“My pleasure completely,” Tamani said, sounding like a perfect English gentleman. “And . . .” he added, hesitating, “I wanted to apologize for the last time we met. The circumstances were . . . less than ideal.”

But her mom waved his words away. “Oh, please.” She put an arm around Laurel and smiled down at her. “When you have a daughter who's a faerie, you learn to deal with these things.”

Tamani visibly relaxed. “Can I help?” he asked.

“No, no. Thanksgiving is football day. You can go sit with Mark in the rec room,” she said, pointing. “And dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“If you're sure,” Tamani said. “I'm a great fruit slicer.”

Laurel's mom laughed. “I'm sure you are. No, we've got this covered. You go.”

Laurel wanted to protest, but Tamani was already smiling and heading toward the rec room. She followed him and lingered in the doorway, peeking in at the two men. Not that there was much to see; they shook hands, muttered some greetings, and then Laurel's dad tried to explain football to Tamani. Still, Laurel's mom had to call twice before she pulled herself away to finish the fruit tray.

When the meal was ready, they gathered around the kitchen table. After everyone was served, Tamani looked up and complimented Laurel's mother on her preparation of the game hens. “It all looks fabulous, Mrs. Sewell. Meat obviously isn't my thing, but it smells fantastic. Rosemary, right?”

Laurel's mom beamed. “Thank you. I'm impressed you recognized the spice. And please, Sarah and Mark. None of this mister-and-missus nonsense.” She reached over and squeezed her husband's hand. “Makes us feel old.”

“You
are
old,” Laurel said, snickering.

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “That's quite enough out of you, missy.”

“So, Tamani, tell me about being a sentry.”

“Well—”

“Oh, Mark, don't pester him about work on a holiday.”

“I don't mind, really,” Tamani said. “I love my job. And it's basically my life at the moment, holiday or not.”

Laurel's dad peppered Tamani with questions, mostly about Tamani's position as a sentry, then moving on to growing up in Avalon, what sorts of foods they ate, and several questions about faerie economics that Tamani couldn't answer. By the time her mom finally pulled out the pie, Laurel was feeling more than a little awkward and Tamani had only managed to clear about half his plate—which had not been dished high to begin with. Laurel longed for an opportunity to smuggle him away before her dad asked too many more weird questions about Avalon's gross domestic product or political hierarchy.

“Let the boy eat,” Laurel's mom scolded, shutting her husband up with a huge piece of pumpkin pie, smothered in whipped cream. For Laurel and Tamani she had small sorbet dishes filled with a sweet frozen fruit concoction.

“We usually watch a movie after dessert,” Laurel's dad said to Tamani. “Care to join us?”

“I'm actually going to take Tamani on a walk,” Laurel said, snatching up her opportunity before Tamani could respond. “But we should be back in time to catch the end.”

“Personally,” her dad said, rubbing his belly, “I would have to go on a waddle.”

Laurel rolled her eyes and groaned.
Parents.
She grabbed Tamani's arm and practically dragged him toward the front door, wanting to escape before anyone else said anything.

“Anxious to have me all to yourself?” Tamani murmured with a grin as the door closed.

“I may have underestimated how awkward that was going to be.”

“Awkward?” Tamani said, looking sincere. “I didn't think it was awkward. Well, at first,” he admitted. “But meeting new people is always like that. Personally, I found the whole thing to be much
less
awkward than I expected. They're nice.”

They wandered aimlessly for a while before Laurel realized her feet were heading down the familiar route to school. Instead of turning a different way, Laurel headed for the football field and climbed the bleachers. When she reached the top, she faced away from the field and held on to the railing, letting the wind caress her face and tangle her hair. Tamani hesitated, then came to stand beside her.

“I'm sorry you have to go through all this,” he said, not looking at her. “You know, when I started as a sentry, I had pretty mild expectations. Some sentries go their entire lives never seeing a troll. You were always supposed to live a pretty normal life out at the cabin, come back to Avalon once you'd inherited the land, and . . . after that, my job would be pretty easy.”

“Jamison said the same thing,” Laurel said, looking over her shoulder at Tamani. “About me just living a normal human life until it was time to come back to Avalon. I guess nothing's ever as easy as we hope.” She wasn't just talking about the trolls, either. Had they really expected her to walk away from her human life without so much as a backward glance?

“No,” Tamani agreed, “but I keep right on hoping.” He shifted, snugging in close behind her. He placed his right hand on the railing beside her, and, after a moment's hesitation, placed his left hand over hers, his chest cradling her back.

She knew she should shrug his arms off, walk away, break contact, but she couldn't. She didn't want to. And for once, she didn't make herself. She stood, unmoving, feeling him so close, and just drank it in—his presence as invigorating as the breeze across her face.

It seemed so natural that she almost didn't notice his cheek press against her neck, his chin tilt until it was his lips meeting her skin. But she couldn't ignore the soft kisses that trailed up her neck and touched her ear; the fiery sensation that coursed through her, begging her to turn and face him, to give him the permission he was silently seeking. She could hardly breathe with the weight of the wanting. Then his hand was at her waist, turning her gently toward him. He kissed the very corner of her mouth and sighed before brushing his lips softly against hers.

Summoning every ounce of self-control she had, Laurel whispered, “I can't.”

“Why?” Tamani asked, his forehead pressed to hers.

“I just can't,” Laurel said, turning away.

But he took both of her hands and pulled her back, looking into her eyes. “Don't mistake me,” he said, so gently, so softly. “I will do anything you ask. I simply want to know why. Why do you feel so bound?”

“I promised myself. I—I have to make a decision. And being with you, kissing you, it makes my thinking fuzzy. I need a clear head.”

“I'm not asking you to make a decision,” Tamani said. “I just want to kiss you.” He slid his hand up her neck, cupping the side of her face. “Do you want to kiss me?”

She nodded, very slightly. “But—”

“Then you can,” he said. “And tomorrow I won't expect you to have made your decision. Sometimes,” he said, bringing a fingertip to her bottom lip, “a kiss is simply a kiss.”

“I don't want to string you along,” Laurel said, her voice weak.

“I know. And I'm glad. But right now I don't care if it means nothing. Even if you never kiss me again after today—let's have today.” His mouth was back at her ear, his whisper breathy and warm.

“I don't want to hurt you,” Laurel said.

“How could this possibly hurt?”

“You know how it is. You'll hate me tomorrow.”

“I could never hate you.”

“It doesn't mean forever.”

“I'm not asking for forever,” Tamani said. “Yet. I'm just asking for a moment.”

She had no more arguments. Well, there were little ones. Ones that didn't matter, couldn't matter when Tamani's hands were tight against her back, caressing her shoulders, his lips a breath away from hers.

Laurel leaned forward and closed the gap.