Spells

“It’s not your fault, it’s — it’s just everything. The trolls, Halloween, Klea…” He ran his hands through his hair. “We’re both totally wound up.”

“I know,” Laurel said, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. Forcing herself to change the subject, she said, “I had a good moment with my mom just before you got here.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Laurel nodded. “I’ve been waiting for things to get better for almost a year. Maybe…maybe they’re starting to.”

“It will work out.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” David said, his lips trailing down her face and behind her ear. “You’re too beautiful for anyone to stay mad at too long.”

“I’m serious!” she said, her breath quickening as his lips caressed the side of her neck.

“Oh, I’m serious too,” he said, his hands sliding up the skin on her back. “Very, very serious.”

She laughed. “You’re never serious.”

“Serious about you,” he said, his hands coming to rest at her hips.

She melted against him and his arms went around her back for a few seconds before he pulled away.

“What?” she asked.

He pointed at the floor. Two petals were lying on the carpet. “We should probably pick those up before Chelsea and Ryan get here,” he said teasingly.

“No kidding. The whole thing will be gone by tomorrow. Thank goodness.”

“We could try to get them all rubbed off right now,” David said, cocking his head toward the couch.

“As nice as that sounds,” Laurel said, tapping her fingers gently against his chest, “Chelsea and Ryan will be here any minute.”

“They won’t be shocked — they make out at school, like, constantly,” he said with a grin.

Laurel just looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Fine.” He kissed her once more, then walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Can’t you keep anything stocked in here except Sprite? Some Mountain Dew, maybe?”

“Sure, ’cause that would be a great color for my eyes and hair,” Laurel said sarcastically. “Besides, the caffeine would make me sick.”

“I didn’t say you had to drink it,” David replied, opening a can of Sprite and handing it to her. “Just keep it around in case somebody else wants it.” He opened his own can and slid onto a stool at the bar. “Chelsea isn’t going to expect us to dress up to hand out candy or anything, is she?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“No, I checked to make sure,” Laurel replied. “No one’s dressing up except me.”

“You’re dressing up?” David asked skeptically.

“Yep. I’m pretending to be a human.”

David just rolled his eyes. “Walked right into that, didn’t I?” He looked down at her crumpled Spanish book. “Studying?” he asked. “It looks like your book is taking it pretty hard.”

“I was, till I got distracted trying to kill you with the butcher knife.”

“Oh, yes, that was fun. We must do it again sometime.”

Laurel groaned and leaned her head into her hands. “I could have killed you,” she said.

“No way,” David said with a grin. “I was totally prepared.” He reached behind him and pulled out the black gun.

Laurel jumped off her stool. “David! You brought your gun into my house?”

“Sure,” he said, completely nonchalant.

“Get it out of here, David!”

“Hey, hey, come on,” he said, quickly stowing the gun in a concealed holster at the small of his back. “It’s not like I’ve ever done it before. Your house is safe…well, as safe as anything is these days. But”—he glanced around the room as if he expected someone to be there, listening—“we’re having Chelsea and Ryan over tonight. And you freaking out about Halloween is making me freak out a little bit too. I wanted to be ready in case…just in case. Honestly, I thought it might make you feel a little more secure. Obviously I was wrong.”

He looked up and met Laurel’s eyes, her glare warring with his apologetic but determined gaze. She faltered first. “I’m sorry. I just hate those things.”

He hesitated. “If you really want me to, I’ll take it out to the car.”

What he said about being ready did make sense. But her hatred of the gun won out. “I would appreciate that,” she said quietly. The shrill chiming of the doorbell made Laurel jump. “They’re here,” she said, frustrated. “Just keep that thing out of sight for now,” she ordered. “I don’t want to see it again.”

She got as far as the kitchen doorway before David grabbed her arm. “Your blossom,” he whispered. “I’ll get the ones on the floor.”

“Crap. Be right there!” Laurel yelled toward the front door. She unwound the sash from her wrist and hurriedly replaced it around her waist. She just had to get the limp petals out of sight; she could steal away to the bathroom later and do a more graceful job.

David disposed of the petals she’d left on the floor while Laurel opened the front door to Chelsea and Ryan with a smile she hoped didn’t look too fake. “Hey, guys.”

They were wearing silly grins and neon headbands, complete with glowing eyes bobbing over their heads at the ends of long springs.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Impressive,” she said dryly.

“Not as impressive as that,” Chelsea said, pointing over Laurel’s shoulder.

“What?” Laurel said, whipping her head around, suddenly panicked that her petals were sticking up. As soon as she did, something snapped onto the sides of her head and she rolled her eyes upward to see her own set of googley eyes, swaying in and out of view. “Thanks,” she drawled sarcastically.

“Aw, come on,” Chelsea said. “They’re fun!”

Laurel turned to Ryan, eyebrow raised.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “This was all Chelsea’s idea.”

“Okay, I’ll wear them,” Laurel said with a conspiratorial grin. “As long as you brought a set for David, too.”

Chelsea held up a fourth headband.

“Perfect.” She pulled Chelsea in and peered out at the dusk as she shut the door behind Ryan.

TWENTY-ONE

THE MORNING AIR WAS COLD AND SHARP, THE sun merely a bright pink shadow working its way up the cloudy eastern horizon. Laurel shrugged into her jacket on the front porch and pulled her keys out of her pocket, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Where are you going?”

Laurel shrieked and dropped her keys. So much for stealth.

“Sorry,” her dad said, poking his head out the front door. His hair was sticking out every which way and he looked groggy — he never had been one for mornings. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” Laurel said, bending to pick up her keys. “I’m just going to Chelsea’s.” She could have told her dad where she was actually going, but it was easier this way. Less chance of David accidentally finding out.

“Oh, that’s right, you told us that last night. Why so early?”

“Chelsea’s got a date with Ryan tonight,” Laurel said, the lie rolling off her tongue. She wondered if this was getting too easy. “We’ll need all the time we can get.”

“Well, get going, then. Have fun,” her dad said with a yawn. “I’m going back to bed.”

Laurel hurried to her car and backed out as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. The sooner she was out of town, the better.

In the end, she’d decided not to tell David. She hated lying but didn’t know what else to do. He’d be too worried; maybe insist she skip it.

Or accompany her with that stupid gun of his.

She hated that she now knew he carried it around with him. Logically she couldn’t blame him — he didn’t