Читать книгу Wild - Aprilynne Pike - Страница 8

Chapter Four

Laurel pushed the door closed, wanting nothing more than to turn back time; to have ignored the doorbell like David suggested. Not that an unanswered door would be likely to deter Klea, but. . .

“Well?”

Laurel spun round, startled by the sound of Tamani’s voice. He was standing next to David in the front room. Both had their arms crossed in front of them.

“When did you get here?” she asked, confused.

“About half a second before you answered the door,” David replied for him.

“What did she want?” Tamani asked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she picked that spot on purpose – like she knew I was there.”

Laurel shook her head. “It’s the porch, Tamani. It’s a common place to sit and chat.”

Tamani looked unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. “So what’s going on? Why was Yuki with her?”

“Who’s Yuki?” David asked.

“The girl from Japan,” Tamani said brusquely. “The exchange student.”

Laurel stared at him for a second, wondering if he already knew. But she remembered that they had all toured the school together. Obviously Robison would have made introductions. Besides, he would have told her if he knew – wouldn’t he?

“She’s a faerie,” Laurel said softly.

Stunned silence buzzed in her ears.

Tamani opened his mouth, then stopped and closed it. He laughed humourlessly. “Those eyes. I should have seen it.” His grimace became a determined scowl. “So Klea knows about faeries – we have to assume she knows about you.”

“I’m not sure she does know about faeries,” Laurel said slowly. “She called Yuki a dryad.” Laurel sat down on the couch – where David immediately joined her – and related the rest of the conversation as Tamani paced the room. “I don’t like her and I don’t trust her, but I don’t think Klea actually knows what Yuki is.”

Tamani stood still now, his knuckles pressed softly against his mouth.

“Klea did save our lives. Twice, even,” David said. “But bringing another faerie to Del Norte seems like a pretty big coincidence.”

“Right,” Laurel said, trying to sort out her feelings. Part of her was overjoyed. Another faerie, living as a human! And not just for show, like Tamani, but raised from a young age by adoptive parents. That part of Laurel wanted to embrace Yuki and pull her inside the house and grill her about her life, her coping techniques, her daily routine. What did she eat? Had she blossomed yet? But revealing anything to Yuki surely meant telling Klea as well, and that was not something Laurel wanted to do.

“What do we know about Yuki?” David asked, looking to Tamani, who again crossed his arms and shook his head.

“Basically nothing. But she’s involved with Klea, so we know she can’t be trusted,” Tamani said darkly.

“What if Klea’s telling the truth?” Whatever her doubts about Klea, Laurel found herself hoping that Yuki was, at worst, an innocent pawn. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps just a natural desire to defend her own kind. Besides, she seemed so timid and shy. “I mean, if she’s here to spy, why reveal herself at all?”

“There are a lot of different ways to spy,” Tamani said slowly. “Yuki could be a diversion, or she could be hiding in plain sight. Knowing Yuki is a faerie isn’t nearly as important as knowing what kind.”

“Aren’t most of you Spring faeries?” asked David.

“Sure,” Tamani agreed. “And a strong Ticer surrounded by humans is as good as an army.”

David blanched, but Laurel shook her head. “Klea said Yuki didn’t have any powers.”

“Klea could be lying. Or Yuki could be hiding her abilities from Klea.” He paused, grinning a little. “In fact, Yuki could be the one lying to Klea. Wouldn’t that be something.”

“So what’s the worst-case scenario?” David asked. “She entices me or Chelsea into spilling your secrets?”

“Or she’s a Sparkler and she’s in here right now, invisible, listening to this conversation,” Tamani said.

“Summer faeries can do that?” Laurel asked.

“Some of them,” Tamani said. “Not that she’s likely to figure that out without training. But until today, I would have told you that I knew the location of every faerie outside of Avalon, so I guess anything is possible. For all we know, Yuki could be a Winter,” he closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. The thought made Laurel’s stomach clench. “Or a Fall.” He hesitated again, then spoke in a rush, as though afraid someone would stop him before he’d had his say. “She could even be the Mixer who poisoned your father.”

Laurel felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. She managed to choke out a strangled, “What?”

“I— I—” Tamani stammered. “Look, the point is, she could be harmless, but she could be very, very dangerous. So we need to act quickly,” Tamani said, avoiding the question.

But Laurel wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “You mean two years ago – when he got sick? You said it was trolls.”

Tamani sighed. “It could have been the trolls. But in centuries of dealing with the trolls, we’ve never seen them use poison like that. They’re brutal and manipulative. . . but they’re not Mixers. So when your father got sick—”

“You think a Fall faerie did that?” Laurel asked blankly. Suddenly it made horrible sense.

“Yes. No. We thought maybe—”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Laurel felt her anger rising. What else had Tamani been holding back? He was supposed to teach her about the faerie realm, not keep her in the dark! “I’ve been to the Academy twice since then! Where basically all of the Fall faeries live! You should have said something!”

“I tried,” Tamani protested, “but Shar stopped me. And he was right to stop me. We investigated. Aside from you, no Mixers have been through the gates without constant supervision in decades. We don’t let fae cross out of Avalon lightly.”

“You let me,” Laurel insisted.

Tamani smiled softly, almost sadly. “You are very, very special.” He cleared his throat and continued. “No one wanted you to go into the Academy suspecting every Mixer you met of trying to kill your father. Especially since it probably wasn’t one of them.”

Laurel contemplated that. She knew several Fall faeries who were experts at animal poisons. Including Mara, who was still nursing an ancient grudge. “But now you think Yuki had something to do with it?” she asked, pushing that thought aside to focus on the threat at hand.

“Maybe. I mean, it doesn’t seem likely. She’s so young. And on top of that, Barnes showed resistance to our potions, so he could have been an unusually gifted troll in other ways too. All I know for sure is, Yuki shouldn’t be here. No wild faerie should be here.”

“Hang on,” David said, leaning forward, placing a hand on Laurel’s leg. “If Yuki poisoned your dad, then Yuki had to be working for Barnes – but if Yuki was working for Barnes, why is she with Klea now? Klea killed Barnes.”

“Maybe she was Barnes’s prisoner and Klea rescued her,” Laurel said.

“Then why not tell you that?” David asked. “Why lie about Yuki being an orphan?”

“And we’re back to Klea lying again,” Tamani said wryly.

After a long silence, Laurel shook her head. “It doesn’t add up. We don’t know anything. All we have is what Klea told me.” She hesitated. “What I’d really like is to get Yuki’s side of the story.”

“Impossible,” Tamani said instantly.

Laurel glared, annoyed at his dismissal. “Why?”

Tamani saw the change in her expression and softened his tone. “I think it’s too dangerous,” he said softly.

“Can’t you entice her?” David asked.

“It doesn’t really work on faeries,” Laurel said. But it had worked on her, before she knew what she was – maybe David had a point.

Tamani shook his head. “It’s worse than that. If it doesn’t work at all, it will be because she knows about enticement, and then she’ll know I’m fae. I can’t risk that until we know more.”

“How are we supposed to know more?” Laurel asked, exasperated. The impossibility of the situation was suffocating. “We don’t know who’s lying and who’s telling the truth. Maybe no one’s telling the truth!”

“I think we need to go see Jamison,” Tamani said after a pause.

Laurel found herself nodding. “I think that’s a good idea,” she said slowly.

Tamani pulled something out of his pocket, and began tapping at it.

“Oh my gosh, is that an iPhone?” Laurel asked, her voice unconsciously rising in pitch and volume.

Tamani looked up at her, his expression blank. “Yeah?”

“He has an iPhone,” Laurel said to David. “My faerie sentry who generally lives without running water has an iPhone. That’s. Just. Great. Everyone in the whole world has a cell phone except me. That’s awesome.” Her parents still insisted that cell phones were for adults and college students. So behind the times.

“It’s essential for communication purposes,” Tamani said defensively. “I have to admit, humans are far beyond the fae in terms of communication. With this we can deliver messages instantly. A few buttons and I can talk to Shar! It’s astounding.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “I’m aware of what they do.” She paused, a pained expression clouding her features. “Shar has one too?”

“Granted,” Tamani said slowly, not answering her question, “it doesn’t work quite as well for us as humans. Our bodies don’t conduct electrical currents the same, so sometimes I have to touch the screen more than once to get it to react. Still, I can hardly complain.”

David offered Laurel an apologetic smile. “You’re always welcome to use mine.”

Tamani growled and muttered an unfamiliar word under his breath. “No answer.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and stood with his hands on his hips, looking pensive.

Laurel stared at him, his tense shoulders, his dominating posture. He’d been back for about two weeks, and everything in Laurel’s life had been thrown into chaos.

Sexy, sexy chaos.

At least he had his shirt on this time. She cleared her throat and looked away, pulling her thoughts back where they belonged.

“We need to go to the land,” Tamani said, pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

“What? Wait!” Laurel said, rising to her feet and feeling David do the same at her side. “We can’t go to the land tonight.”

“Why not? Jamison needs to know about this. I’ll drive.”

That sounded so wrong coming out of Tamani’s mouth. “Because it’s almost six o’clock. My parents are going to be home soon and I still have homework.”

Tamani looked confused. “So?”

Laurel shook her head. “Tamani, I can’t go. I have things to do here. You go. You don’t need me. Besides,” she added, glancing out at the purpling sky, “it’ll be dark soon. This whole thing has really put me on edge and I would feel better if we were all home before sundown tonight. You’re the one who told me there are still trolls around,” she added.

“That’s why I have to stay close to you,” he insisted. “It’s my job.”

“Well, high school is my job,” Laurel said. “Not to mention keeping my family and friends safe. Anyway, you have your phone. Call Shar again later; have him arrange a time this weekend for Jamison to come out and talk with us. We have a half-day at school on Friday, so we can go then. Or Saturday, when we can be back in plenty of time before sundown.”

Tamani was gritting his teeth, and Laurel could tell that although he didn’t like what she was saying, he knew it made more sense than rushing off on an hour-long drive to the land just as the sun was starting to set. “Fine,” he said at last. “But we’re going on Friday, not Saturday.”

“After school,” Laurel said.

“Right after school.”

“Deal.”

Tamani nodded stoically. “David should probably head home then. It’ll be sunset soon.” And with that he turned and headed towards the back of the house. Laurel listened for a door, but heard nothing. After a few seconds she peeked into the kitchen, but he was nowhere to be seen.

David nestled his face against her neck, his breath hot on her collarbone. She wanted to hold him closer, tighter, but knew it would have to wait. Despite Tamani’s assurance that he could handle things, Laurel was back to wanting David safe inside his house at sundown.

“You really should get home,” she whispered. “I don’t want you outside after dark.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much,” David said.

Laurel pulled back and looked up at him. “Yes, I do,” she said softly. “What would I do without you?” It was a question that no longer seemed so hypothetical, and she didn’t want to know the answer.