Wings

“That’s the problem — it’s not that easy. Nearly impossible, sometimes — though not as a sentry. Trolls simply don’t respond to our magic.”

“Not at all?” Laurel asked.

“Not Spring magic, at any rate. And a shame, too. Would make my job today a lot easier. There are a few signs that set trolls apart from humans, but many of them can be hidden.”

“What kind of signs?” Laurel asked.

“Originally, trolls lived underground because the sunlight was too hard on their skin. With modern inventions like sun-block and lotion, they’re much better off, but even so, their skin is rarely healthy.”

Laurel winced, remembering the way Bess’s skin had cracked and feathered around her collar.

“Along with the asymmetry, their eyes are often different colors, but contact lenses can hide that well enough too. The only way you would probably be sure is to either observe their strength or catch them eating a big hunk of bloody meat.”

“Barnes was fascinated by the blood on my arm,” Laurel said.

“You don’t bleed,” Tamani said.

“Well, it wasn’t my blood; it was David’s.”

“On your arm?”

Laurel nodded. “He cut his arm coming through the window. Same time I cut my back.”

“A good amount of blood?” Tamani asked.

“Enough to cover Barnes’s palm when he grabbed me.”

Tamani chuckled. “That explains throwing you in the river. No troll in their right mind would try to drown a faerie. He didn’t know what you are.”

“Why would he know?”

Tamani sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s very easy for trolls to distinguish humans from faeries. A troll’s sense of smell is keenly tuned to blood, and faeries don’t have any. Unless you’re blossoming, a troll won’t be able to smell you at all. Coming upon what looks like a human who has no scent of blood would tip him off immediately.”

“But David bled on me. So he smelled enough blood that he didn’t suspect?”

“It’s the only logical explanation.”

“What about in the hospital?”

“Hospitals reek of blood to a troll. Even bleach doesn’t dim the smell. He wouldn’t have noticed ten faeries in a hospital.”

“And at your house,” David said, “I smelled like smoke from the bonfire.”

“He came to your house!” Tamani said, the hand on Laurel’s shoulder tightening a little. “You forgot to mention that.”

“A long time ago. I didn’t know what he was.”

Tamani’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “You’ve been very, very lucky. If he’d have realized what you were before, you’d probably be dead right now.”

Laurel’s head was starting to spin and she leaned back against the headrest — right against Tamani’s cheek. She didn’t rectify her mistake.

They neared Brookings and Tamani began grilling Laurel about the layout of the house. “It would be easier if I came with you,” she protested after describing the house in every way she could think of. Which wasn’t much — it had been too dark.

“Not a chance. I won’t risk you — you’re too important.”

“I’m not that important,” Laurel grumbled, sliding down in her seat a little.

“You’re set to inherit the land, Laurel. Don’t take that lightly.”

“I could help — be a backup.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Why?” Laurel snapped. “Because I’m not some specially trained sentry?”

“Because it’s too dangerous,” Tamani snapped back, raising his voice. He sat back in his seat. “Don’t make me lose you again,” he whispered.

She knelt on the seat and turned around to look at him. His face was just visible in the early morning glow. “What if I make sure to stay out of sight? If something happens to you, we’ll need to know.”

His face didn’t change.

“I won’t try to fight or anything,” she promised.

Tamani paused and mulled this over for a few seconds. “If I say no, are you going to follow me anyway?”

“Of course.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Listen to me.” He leaned forward, his nose almost touching hers as he spoke quietly but with an intensity that almost made Laurel wish she hadn’t brought it up in the first place. “If there’s trouble, you let me go. You drive straight back to Shar and tell him what happened. You promise?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t leave you.”

“I want your word, Laurel.”

“It won’t happen anyway. Like you told Shar, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. Your word.”

Laurel bit at her lower lip, wondering if there was some way to get out of this. But Tamani was not going to leave it alone. “Fine,” she said sullenly.

“Then you can come.”

“What about me?” David asked.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?” David demanded, gripping the steering wheel. “I’d be more of a help than Laurel — no offense,” he added with a smile.

“Well, I guess you can come,” Tamani said, smiling wickedly, “if you want to be bait.”

“Tamani!” Laurel protested.

“It’s true. Not only is he human, he’s got open wounds. Barnes would smell him a hundred feet away. Maybe more. He’s bait, or he doesn’t come.” Tamani leaned forward again and lightly punched David’s shoulder in what anyone else would have thought was a friendly gesture, but Laurel knew better. “No, mate. I suggest you man the getaway car.”

David couldn’t argue. Not unless he wanted to insist on being bait.

They pulled off the 101 onto Alder just as the sky was pinking up. As they reached Maple and began to retrace the route she and David had taken the night before, Laurel grew more and more nervous. She’d been so confident and arrogant last night. She’d known she was right and had been determined to find answers. Now she knew firsthand just what she was up against, and her confidence was rapidly dwindling.

“Tamani?” she asked, even though she knew this was the wrong time. “How is a plant supposed to beat a superstrong troll?”

For once Tamani did not grin. His face was stony and his eyes hooded. “Stealth,” he replied softly. “Stealth and speed. It’s the only advantage I have.”

Laurel didn’t like the sound of that.

TWENTY-TWO

DAVID’S CIVIC ROLLED SLOWLY INTO THE SEA CLIFF cul-de-sac. “It’s that one down at the end,” Laurel said, pointing.

“Let’s stop here, then,” Tamani said.

David pulled the car onto the curb and the three sat looking at the large house. In the early morning light, they could now tell it had once been gray. Laurel studied the splintery curved trim on the eaves and the embellished window frames and tried to envision the beautiful home it must have been a hundred years ago. How long had it belonged to the trolls? She shivered, wondering if they’d bought the house or simply slaughtered the family and taken possession. At the moment, the latter seemed much more likely.

Tamani was pulling a belt from his pack and checking its little pockets. He handed her a leathery strap that held a small knife. “Just in case,” he said.

The knife felt heavy in her hand, and for a few seconds she just stared at it.

“It goes around your waist,” Tamani prompted.