Spells

Years.

With a long sigh Laurel turned the knob and let herself in.

Her parents were both sitting on the couch, waiting for her. Her mom jumped up as the door swung open, wiping tears from her face. “Laurel!” She rushed over and put her arms around her. “I’ve been so worried.”

It had been a long time since her mom had hugged her like that. Laurel hugged back, squeezing hard, overwhelmed by a sense of security that had nothing to do with trolls or faeries. A sense of belonging that had nothing to do with Avalon. A love that had nothing to do with David or Tamani.

Laurel pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder. This is my home, she thought fiercely. This is where I belong. Avalon was beautiful — perfect, really — magical and exotic and exciting. But it didn’t have this — this acceptance and love that she found among her human family and friends. Avalon had never seemed so superficial, such an illusion, as right at this moment. It was time she let this be her real home. Her only home.

She heard her father walk up and as she felt his arms encompass them both Laurel was certain she’d made the right decision. She couldn’t live in two worlds, and this world was where she belonged. She smiled up at her parents and sank down onto the couch. They sat on either side of her.

“So what happened?” her dad asked.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Laurel began hesitantly. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, not for a long time.”

And with a deep breath, Laurel began explaining about the trolls, starting all the way back at the hospital the previous fall. She explained why Jeremiah Barnes had never shown up to finish buying the land, and why he had tried to buy it in the first place. She told them about the sentries who had kept them safe. The true nature of the “dog fights” in the trees behind their house. She even told them about Klea; she left nothing out. When Laurel finished relaying the events of that night, her dad just shook his head. “And you did that all on your own?”

“Everyone helped, Dad. David, Chelsea”—she hesitated—“Klea. I couldn’t have done it alone.” Laurel paused and looked over at her mom.

She had risen from the couch and was pacing in front of the window.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Mom,” Laurel said. “I just thought that you dealing with the whole faerie thing was enough without throwing trolls into the mix as well. And I know it’s going to take some time to accept this, too, but from now on, I’ll tell you guys everything, I promise, if you’ll just…if you’ll just listen and still”—she sniffed, trying to hold back tears—“still love me.”

Laurel’s mom turned to her with a look Laurel couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m so sorry, Laurel.”

Whatever Laurel might have expected, it wasn’t that. “What? No, I’m the one who lied.”

“You may have kept secrets from us, but I think you could tell I wouldn’t have listened. And I’m sorry about that.” She leaned forward and hugged Laurel, and Laurel felt her spirits lift and fly in a way she had been certain she would never feel again. She hadn’t realized just how hard it was, hiding so much from her parents.

Her mom sat back down on the couch and put an arm around Laurel. “When you told us you were a faerie, it was weird and unbelievable, but more than that, it made me feel completely useless. You were this amazing thing and had spent your whole life having all these faerie…guards, or whatever, watching out for you. You didn’t need me.”

“No, Mom,” Laurel said, shaking her head. “I’ll always need you. You were the best mom. Always.”

“It made me so angry. I’m sure that was the wrong way to feel, but it’s how I felt. I took it out on you. I didn’t mean to,” she added. “But I did. And the whole time,” her mom continued, “you were afraid for your life and keeping this huge secret.” She turned to Laurel. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to try — I’ve been trying.”

“I noticed,” Laurel said with a smile.

“Well, I’m going to try harder.” She kissed Laurel’s forehead. “When you left my store tonight, I was afraid I might never see you again, and I didn’t even know why. And the only thing I could feel through the fear was the overwhelming regret that you didn’t know how much I loved you. How much I’ve always loved you.” She leaned her head against Laurel.

“I love you too, Mom,” Laurel said, her arms tight around her mom’s waist.

“And I love you both,” Laurel’s dad said with a grin, hugging them tightly together, smooshing Laurel in the middle. They all laughed, and Laurel felt the tension of the past year dissipating. It would take work — nothing fixed itself in one night — but it was a start. It was enough.

“So,” her mom said after a minute. “you didn’t tell us what actually happened in Avalon today.” She was hesitant, awkward, but her tone sounded genuine.

“It was amazing,” Laurel said haltingly. “The most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

Laurel’s mom patted her thigh and Laurel lay down with her head in her mom’s lap. She ran her fingers through Laurel’s long hair the way she had ever since Laurel was a little girl. And with both of her parents just listening, Laurel began to talk about Avalon.

TWENTY-SEVEN

STANDING AT THE EDGE OF THE TREE LINE HAD never felt so much like standing at the edge of a cliff. Laurel took several deep breaths and had a few false starts before she forced her feet to walk down the path that led into the forest behind her cabin.

“Tamani?” she called softly. “Tam?”

She kept walking, knowing that it didn’t really matter if she called or not; he must already know she was here. He always did.

“Tamani?” she called again.

“Tamani’s not here.”

Laurel bit off a yelp of surprise as she turned toward the deep voice behind her.

It was Shar.

He looked at her steadily, his eyes the same deep green as Tamani’s, his dark blond hair with green roots framing his oval face and just touching his shoulders.

“Where is he?” Laurel asked when she found her voice.

Shar shrugged. “You told him to go, so he went.”

“What do you mean, he went?”

“This gate is no longer Tamani’s post. He was mostly here to watch you, anyway, and now you’re gone. He has a new assignment.”

“Since yesterday!” Laurel cried.

“Things can move very quickly when we need them to.”

She nodded. Granted, the whole reason she’d come was to tell him they needed to not see each other anymore, but she wanted to explain, to make him understand. She didn’t want it to end like this. The last words she’d screamed at him echoed through her head, reverberating with a sickening clarity. I want you to go away. I mean it. Go! She hadn’t meant it, not exactly. She was angry and scared, and David was standing right there. She took a long, shuddering breath and rubbed her temples with her fingertips.

It was too late.

“What have you got there?” Shar said, interrupting her thoughts.

He was reaching for her hand, and it didn’t occur to her to yank it away. Her thoughts swirled, centering on Tamani and how badly her words must have hurt him.

Shar studied the blisters. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. “These blisters are from a monastuolo serum. Have you treated it?”

“Too many things going on,” Laurel mumbled, shaking her head.

“Come with me,” Shar said, pulling on her hand.

Laurel followed, too numb to resist.

Shar led her to a clearing, where he picked up a pack that looked very similar to Tamani’s. She hated being here without him. Everything she saw was a reminder of him. Shar pulled out a bottle of thick amber liquid and laid her hand on his lap, squeezing the bottle carefully to release one large drop of the cloudy solution.

“A little goes a long way,” Shar said, rubbing the tender blisters carefully. The cooling effect was instant, even with the irritation of Shar’s fingers on the sensitive skin. “When I’m finished, keep it uncovered and in the