Spells

“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?”

“Because they’re trying to kill us.”

“She never said that. She only said it was because they are trolls.”

“Isn’t that enough of a reason?”

“No. You can’t hunt things just because of what they are, or what others like them have done to you. I can’t assume there are no good trolls out there any more than I can assume there are no bad faeries. The fact that she’s hunting the right thing doesn’t mean it’s for the right reason.”

“Laurel,” David said calmly, one hand on her shoulder, “you’re arguing semantics here. I really think you’re blowing this all out of proportion.”

“That’s because you’re human. That gun you’re so impressed by? I can’t be as impressed because I’m afraid it will be pointing at me someday if she finds out what I am.”

David stopped, shock written across his face. “I wouldn’t let it happen.”

Laurel laughed sharply. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, do you really think you could stop her? Her and all those — I don’t know — ninjas she’s got working for her?” Laurel twined her fingers through David’s. “I have great faith in you, David, but I doubt you’re very good at stopping bullets.”

David sighed. “I just hate feeling so powerless. It’s one thing to take my own life in my hands”—he chuckled ironically—“I’m a crazy teenager; we do that kind of stuff all the time.” He sobered and was silent for a few moments. “But it’s something else completely to have you in danger, and Chelsea, and Ryan, and all the other kids at the party. Things got really real tonight, Laurel. I was scared.” He laughed. “No, I was terrified.”

Laurel looked down at her lap and twisted the tail of her shirt with her fingers. “I’m sorry I got you involved,” she mumbled.

“It’s not that. I love that you got me involved.” He took both of her hands and held them until she looked up at him. “I love being a part of your world. And despite almost dying last year, that was the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me.” He laughed. “With the possible exception of tonight.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each one. “I love what you are and I love you.”

Laurel smiled weakly.

“I just think we need help.”

“We have help,” Laurel insisted. “I’ve had faerie sentries watching my house for six months.”

“But where were they tonight?” David asked, the volume of his voice rising. “They weren’t there. Klea was there. Like it or not, she saved us and I think that earns her some trust.”

“So you want me to drive back and tell her everything? Tell her I’m a faerie and the real reason Barnes was after me?” Laurel asked hotly.

David took her hands and pressed them together between his. It was something he always did to help her calm down. She focused on their joined hands and took several long breaths. “Of course not,” David said softly. “There’s no reason for her to know anything more than she knows now. I just think you should trust her enough to accept some assistance. Not guards,” he said, before Laurel could protest, “but if she wants to keep an eye on us when we’re not at your house, is that such a bad thing?”

“I guess not,” Laurel mumbled.

“We put a lot of people in danger tonight, Laurel. Now, I know we’re going to be more careful in the future, but in case something like this happens again, don’t you want”—he lifted the gun, which was looking all too safe tucked into its holster—“another line of defense?”

“But is this really the best way? She just armed two minors, David. Do you have any idea how illegal that is?”

“But it’s for our own good! The law wouldn’t understand any of this. We have to take matters into our own hands.” He paused. “You weren’t worried about the law when Tamani killed those trolls last year.”

Laurel was silent for a long time. Then she straightened up and looked him in the face. “Have you ever shot someone, David?”

“Of course not.”

“Ever pointed a gun at someone?”

He shook his head.

“Watched someone get shot?”

He shook his head soberly now, and very slowly.

“I’ve done all three,” Laurel said, thumping her fingers hard against her chest. “After we escaped from Barnes, I had nightmares almost every night. I still have nightmares sometimes.”

“I do too, Laurel. It scared the hell out me.”

“Barnes scared the hell out of you, David. You know what scares me in my nightmares? Me. I scared the hell out of myself. Because I picked up that gun and I shot someone.”

“You had to.”

“Do you think that matters? I don’t care why I did it. The fact is that I did. And you never forget that feeling. That moment when the gun kicks back in your hand and you see blood appear on the person across from you. You never forget it, David. So excuse me if I don’t share your excitement at having another one forced on me.”