Spells

“It’s pretty mired,” Klea said, her eyes lifting only briefly to acknowledge Laurel’s return, “but I think you and I can push it out, David.” She reached out and punched his arm lightly. “You look like a strong guy.”

David cleared his throat like he was going to say something, but nothing came out.

“Laurel, would you steer?” Klea asked as she pushed up the sleeves of her shirt.

After slipping into the driver’s seat, Laurel watched as David followed Klea to the hood of the car and they braced their hands against the bumper. She still wasn’t sure what to think. Five minutes ago she had thought her life was over — and, without Klea, she had no doubt it would have been. So really, what were they supposed to do? Leave the woman who had saved their lives stranded on the side of the road just because she knew Laurel’s name somehow? There was nothing to do but take her wherever it was she wanted to go. Once the car was out, anyway. But it was all too weird. Laurel wished she had more time to process the situation.

Laurel cranked the wheel as David and Klea pushed. After a few tries, the Civic slowly came loose and Laurel backed it up onto the road. After putting on the parking brake, she joined them as they stood studying the car, looking for damage. Or, more precisely, Klea studied the car while David stared at Klea.

“It could definitely use a good wash,” Klea said, “but it looks like you’re not going to have any souvenirs.”

“All the better,” Laurel said.

“So,” Klea said, stepping out of the glare of the headlights, “shall we go?”

David and Laurel exchanged looks, and Laurel gave him a nod. There was no way to silently indicate that there was an unconscious troll not fifty feet away.

They loaded into the car, David hurrying to open their doors for them as if it were just another night, and they were off. It took a short, silent argument with David, but Laurel remained at the wheel.

Klea directed her as they drove along. “It’s only about a mile or so,” she said. “We move our camp constantly. The only reason I’m letting you guys see it tonight is that it will be somewhere else tomorrow.”

“What kind of camp?” David asked.

“You’ll see,” Klea said. “Turn right here.”

“I don’t see a road,” Laurel said.

“You’re not meant to. Start turning, and you’ll see it.”

With a stoic nod Laurel began edging the Civic to the right. Just behind a large clump of bushes she spotted a hint of a road. She eased onto it and drove through a thin curtain of branches that scraped at the doors and windows. But as soon as she had passed through that, she found the Civic on two parallel tracks, obviously recently cut.

“Cool,” David said, leaning forward in his seat.

For about a minute they traveled silently up the dark, narrow road, Laurel becoming more and more certain that they were driving into a trap. If only she hadn’t forgotten her backpack! Then the road turned sharply to the right, revealing three camping trailers in a well-lit circle. In front of two of the campers sat two black trucks that would have been at home in a monster truck arena. Their deeply tinted windows reflected the glare from several bright floodlights, mounted on tall poles, that filled the camp with a stark, white light. Smaller lamps hung over each of the entrances to the trailers. Just outside of the light two brown horses were tethered to a stake and several swords and large guns were laid out on an aluminum picnic table. The sinking pit in Laurel’s stomach told her that she and David had just gotten in over their heads.

“Whoa,” David said.

“There’s no place like home,” Klea said wryly. “Welcome to camp.”

They all got out of the car and walked toward the camp — Klea purposefully and Laurel and David more tentatively. A handful of people buzzed around, completing various tasks with hardly a glance at Laurel and David. Like Klea, they wore mostly black.

“Laurel, David, this is my team,” Klea said, gesturing to the people meandering about. “We’re a small lot, but we work hard.”

David took a step toward a low, white tent that glowed from within, as though a dozen lanterns were burning inside. “What do you have in there?” he asked, craning his neck as a man slipped in, releasing a bright beam of light over the entire area for just a moment before the flap fell shut.

“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.

SIXTEEN

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.