Spells (14 page)

“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.

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—”

“I don’t need guards,” Laurel said, thinking of the sentries stationed near her house.

Klea startled. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t need guards,” Laurel repeated. “I don’t want them.”

“Now really, Laurel. It’s for your own protection. I’m sure your parents would agree. I could speak with them, if you like—”

“No!” Laurel bit her lip when two of the men working a few yards away paused and looked over at her. She’d have to tell the truth now. “They don’t know about him,” she admitted. “I never told them anything about Barnes at all. I got back before they realized I was gone.”

Klea grinned openly. “Really? Resourceful little thing, aren’t you?” Laurel managed not to throw Klea a dirty look but only barely. “But seriously, Laurel. There’s been a lot of troll activity around Crescent City lately. Way more than I’m comfortable with. Luckily,” she continued, a touch of amusement in her voice, “we’re dealing with the kind of being who is easily…stopped.” She rubbed at her temples briefly. “Not like some of the other creatures I’ve had the singular experience of hunting down.”

“Other creatures?” David asked.

Klea stopped rubbing her head and looked at David with a pointed expression. “Oh, David, the things I have seen. There’s more out there than anyone dares to believe possible.”

David’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“But I’m afraid we don’t have to time to discuss that tonight,” she said, shutting down his questions. She looked at Laurel. “I’d like you to reconsider,” she said seriously. “Because you managed to escape from your last encounter unscathed, I think you underestimate these creatures. But they are fast, cunning, and amazingly strong. We have a hard enough time keeping them in line and we’re trained professionals.”

“Why do you do it then?” Laurel asked.

“What do you mean, why? Because they’re
trolls
! I hunt them to protect people, like I protected you tonight.” She hesitated, then continued. “Some time ago, I lost everything…
everything
…to inhuman monsters like these. I have made it my life’s work to end the suffering they cause.” She stopped talking for a second, then focused back on Laurel. “A big dream, I know, but if no one tries, it will never happen. Please help us by
letting
us help you.”

“I don’t need bodyguards or whatever it is you’re offering,” Laurel insisted. She knew she sounded petulant, but there was nothing else she could say. Faerie sentries were one thing, but this? This stranger with her army camp and big guns—Laurel didn’t need them stumbling upon her real guardians. The sooner she and David could get out of there, the better.

Klea pursed her lips. “Okay,” she said softly, “if that’s the way you feel. But if you change your mind, you have my card.” She looked back and forth between David and Laurel. “It’s only fair to tell you that I’m still going to keep my eye on you two. I don’t want anything to happen. You seem like good kids.” She paused, her finger near her chin, thinking for a few seconds. “Before you go,” she said slowly, “I have something for you. And I hope you’ll understand my reasons for giving them to you, as well as my request that you keep them a secret. Especially from your parents.”

Laurel didn’t like the sound of that.

Klea gestured to one of the passing men, and he brought her a large box. She sifted through it for a few seconds before pulling out two handguns in black canvas holsters. “I don’t anticipate your needing these,” she said, holding one out to each of them. “But if you won’t consent to guards, then this is the best I can do. I prefer to be overly cautious rather than…well, dead.”

Laurel looked down at the gun Klea had extended toward her, grip-first. In her peripheral vision she saw David take his without hesitance and murmur, “Sweet!” but her eyes stayed locked on the gun. Very slowly, she reached out her hand and touched the cool metal. It didn’t look quite like the gun she’d pointed at Barnes last year, but when she wrapped her fingers around the grip, it
felt
the same. Visions of Barnes flashed through her head, all tinted the scarlet of blood—David’s blood on her arm, the blood that blossomed on Barnes’s shoulder when she shot him, and worse, the look on Tamani’s face when he’d been shot, twice, by a gun not unlike this one.

She jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned. “I don’t want it,” she said quietly.

“And that does you credit,” Klea said calmly. “But I still think—”

“I said I don’t want it,” Laurel repeated.

Klea pursed her lips. “Really, Laurel—”

“I’ll take it for now,” David said, his hand reaching out for the second gun. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Klea looked up at David, her expression unreadable behind those stupid mirrored glasses. “I suppose that will do.”

“But…” Laurel began.

“Come on,” David said, his voice soft and gentle. “It’s almost midnight; your parents will be worried.” He put an arm around Laurel and started to lead her toward the car. “Oh,” he said, stopping and turning back to Klea, “and thanks. Thanks for everything.”

“Yeah,” Laurel mumbled without turning back. “Thank you.” She hurried to the car and slipped in before David could open her door. Her back was aching now and all she wanted was to get away from Klea and her camp and get home. She started the car before David even had a chance to get in and the moment his seat belt clicked, she shifted into reverse and turned the car around. She drove back down the makeshift road as quickly as she dared, and watched Klea in her rearview mirror until the road curved and she blinked out of sight.

“Wow,” David said as they pulled back onto the highway.

“I know,” Laurel agreed.

“Wasn’t she awesome?”

“What?” That was
not
what Laurel had in mind.

But David was already distracted. He took out the gun Klea had given him and unsnapped the holster.

“David! Don’t take that out,” Laurel said, trying to look at David and the gun and the road all at once.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” He took the gun out and turned it around in his hands. “Sig Sauer,” he said.

“Sig what?”

“Sauer. It’s the brand name. It’s a really good gun. Expensive,” he added. “Although not nearly as cool as Klea’s gun. Did you see that thing? An automatic. I bet it was the Glock eighteen.”

“Hello! NRA David,” Laurel said peevishly. “Where did
you
come from? I didn’t know you were so into guns.”

“My dad’s got a bunch,” he said distractedly, still petting the firearm in his hand. “We used to go hunting a little, when I was younger, before they split. He still takes me shooting at the range, sometimes, when I’m visiting. I’m a pretty good shot, actually. Mom’s not a fan; she prefers the microscope. Just one more reason they weren’t meant to be together, I guess.” He pulled on the barrel and Laurel heard a click.

“Be careful!” she yelled.

“The safety’s on—no worries.” He clicked something else and the magazine came sliding out. “Extra-long magazine,” he said, rattling off facts in the same tone of voice her dad might use to check off inventory. “Ten shots instead of eight.” He ejected one bullet and held it up to the window. “Forty-five caliber.” He whistled softly. “These bullets could do some serious damage.”

The phrases ran through Laurel’s head like a grotesque broken record.
Forty-five caliber, extra-long magazine, ten shots, serious damage. Forty-five caliber, extra-long magazine, ten shots, serious damage.

“That’s it,” Laurel said through gritted teeth. Her foot slammed onto the brake, and she lurched to a stop on the side of the road.

David looked up at her with a combination of confusion and what almost looked like fear. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“What’s wrong?” His innocent, genuine tone told her he really had no idea why she was upset.

Laurel folded her arms over the steering wheel and laid her forehead against them. She took several deep breaths and forced herself to be calm. David said nothing, just waited as she took hold of her temper and gathered her thoughts.

Finally she broke the silence. “I don’t think you understand what all of this means for me.” When David didn’t respond, she continued. “They’re watching us now. Maybe they’ve always been watching us, I don’t know. And truth be told, I really think
you
are going to be safer. But how do we know she’s not hunting faeries as well?”

David snorted in disbelief. “Oh, come on, she wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t she?” she asked, turning to face David, her tone deadly serious.

“Of course not.” But his voice had lost a little of its confidence.

“Did she ever say why she wanted to catch the trolls? Or kill them, I think we can safely assume?”