Wild

“But I would have come regardless,” Tamani continued. “Even before you told Shar about the lighthouse, Jamison wanted to send me to find out more about Barnes’s horde,” Tamani said. “His death gave us some peace, but a troll like him would have lieutenants, or commanders. I think it’s safe to assume this is merely the calm before the storm.”

Fear was gnawing at her insides now. It was a feeling Laurel had grown used to living without and she wasn’t happy with its sudden return.

“You also gave Klea four sleeping trolls, and it’s probably too much to hope that they simply woke up, killed her, and got on with their lives. It’s possible she interrogated them and found out about you, maybe about the gate.”

Laurel snapped to attention, feeling panicked. “Interrogated? The way she talked, I figured she would just. . . kill them. Dissect them. I didn’t even—”

“It’s OK,” Tamani said. “You did the best you knew how, under the circumstances. You’re not a sentry. Maybe Klea did kill them outright; trying to interrogate them would be suicidal for most humans. And we don’t know how much Barnes told his lackeys, either. Still, we have to prepare for the worst. If these troll hunters decide to become faerie hunters, then you could be in more danger than ever. Jamison wanted to address these new developments, so he changed the plan slightly.”

“Slightly,” Laurel echoed, feeling suddenly weary. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She felt Tamani’s arm slip round her.

“Listen,” Tamani said to Aaron, “I’m going to take her inside. I think we’re done here.”

A soft nudge brought Laurel to her feet and she headed towards her house without saying goodbye. She walked quickly, pulling away from Tamani’s hand, wanting both to put distance between them and exert her independence.

What was left of it, anyway.

She pushed through the back door, leaving it open for Tamani, and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the first piece of fruit she saw.

“Do you mind if I have another one?” Tamani asked. “The one you gave me really helped.”

Wordlessly Laurel handed him the fruit, realising she had no appetite for it.

“What’s wrong?” Tamani asked at last.

“I’m not really sure,” Laurel said, avoiding his eyes. “Everything is just so. . . crazy. I mean –” she looked up at him now – “I’m so glad you’re back. I really am.”

“Good,” Tamani said, his smile a little shaky. “I was starting to wonder there.”

“But then you tell me I’m in all this danger and suddenly I’m afraid for my life again. No offence, but it kind of overshadows the happiness.”

“Shar wanted to send someone else and just not tell you, but I thought you’d rather know. Even if it meant. . . well, all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

Laurel considered. Something inside her insisted it was better this way, but she wasn’t so sure. “How much danger am I really in?”

“We’re not sure.” Tamani hesitated. “There’s definitely something going on. I’ve been here only a few days, but the things I’ve seen. . . Are you familiar with tracking serums?”

“Sure. They change colour, right? To show how old a trail is? I can’t make them yet—”

“No need. We have batches specially made for tracking trolls and humans. I poured some in a fresh track and it didn’t react at all.”

“So, none of your magic works?” Laurel asked, her throat tightening.

“It appears that way,” Tamani admitted.

“You’re not making me feel any safer,” Laurel said, trying to inject some humour with a smile. But the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

“Please don’t be afraid,” Tamani insisted. “We don’t need magic – it just makes things easier. We’re doing everything we can to patrol the area. We’re not taking any chances.” He paused. “The problem is that we don’t actually know what we’re up against. We don’t know how many there are, what they’re up to, nothing.”

“So you’re here to tell me I have to be super-careful again,” Laurel said, knowing she should feel gratitude instead of resentment. “Stay at home, sundown is Cinderella time, and all that?”

“No,” Tamani said quietly, surprising her. “I’m not here to tell you anything like that. I don’t do patrols, I don’t go hunting, I just stick close to you. You live your life and continue with all of your normal activities. I’ll keep you safe,” he said, stepping forward to sweep a lock of hair back from her face. “Or die trying.”

Laurel stood frozen, knowing he meant every word. He misread her stillness as an invitation and leaned forward, his hand cupping her cheek.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath light on her face. A gentle sigh escaped Laurel’s lips before she could stop it and as Tamani drew nearer her eyes began to close on their own.

“Nothing’s changed,” she whispered, his face only a hair’s breadth from hers. “I made my choice.”

His hand stilled, but she sensed the slightest tremor at his fingertips. She watched him swallow once before smiling wanly and pulling back.

“Forgive me. I overstepped.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Same thing you do every day,” Tamani said, shrugging. “The less change to your routine, the better.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Laurel, forcing herself to look him in the eye.

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s me who has to deal with it, not you.”

Laurel looked at the floor.

“I mean it,” Tamani said, shifting subtly, putting more distance between them. “You don’t have to watch out for me or try to be my friend in school. I’ll just be around, and it will be fine.”

“Fine,” Laurel repeated, nodding.

“You know those apartments down on Harding?” Tamani asked, sounding casual again.

“The green ones?”

“Aye. I’m number seven,” he said, his smile playful. “Just in case you ever need me.”

He headed towards the front door and Laurel watched him for a few seconds before reality crept back in. “Tamani, stop!” she said, leaping off her stool and sprinting to the entryway. “Do not go out of my front door with no shirt on. I have very nosy neighbours.” She reached out to grab his arm. He turned and, almost instinctively, his hand rose to cover hers. He stared down at her fingers, so light against his olive skin, and his eyes traced the length of her hand, her arm, her shoulder, her neck. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again his expression was neutral. He smiled easily, gave her hand a squeeze, then released it and let it fall from his arm.

“Of course,” he said lightly. “I’ll go out the back.”

He turned towards the kitchen, then paused. He lifted his hand and touched the necklace he had given her – her baby faerie ring, which hung on its silver chain. He smiled softly. “I’m glad you still wear this.”

Chapter Three

School was almost unbearably awkward for the next few days; Tamani’s presence in Government drove Laurel crazy and his presence in Speech drove David crazy. The fact that apparently there were still trolls hanging around Crescent City would probably have disturbed Chelsea more if she weren’t so happy to have a second faerie at Del Norte High. But though he was always around, Tamani mostly ignored Laurel and her friends. And while Laurel appreciated the occasional wink or secret smile, even those served to remind her of the dangers that could be lurking round every corner.

But with the return of homework and tests and research papers, Laurel found herself slipping into her usual school routine – trolls or no trolls, Tamani or no Tamani. She knew from experience how exhausting it could get, living in constant fear, and she refused to simply endure high school. She wanted to live her life, and though Laurel hated to admit it, her life didn’t have a lot of room for Tamani.

She wasn’t sure whether to feel sad about that, or guilty, or exasperated. Whether or not there was room in her life for Tamani, Laurel knew that there was precious little room in Tamani’s life for anyone or anything but Laurel. He lived to protect her, and he’d never failed her. Annoyed her, frustrated her, hurt her, maddened her – but never once failed her.

Sometimes she wondered what he did when she wasn’t around. But, especially in the afternoons, when she would lay snuggled up on the couch with David, she thought she was probably better off not knowing. She and David didn’t discuss it – she’d told him what was happening, of course, but they had long since come to the mutually tacit conclusion that where Tamani was concerned, silence was golden.