Illusions

Chapter Twelve

SPURRED BY HER MOM’S ENCOURAGEMENT, LAUREL decided there was no reason she couldn’t have Tamani over. As a friend. So Friday night she called him on his iPhone for the first time and asked if he wanted to come over Saturday to help her with research. And by research, she meant research. Her mom wasn’t going to be home to actually meet Tamani — Saturdays were her busiest day at the store — but her dad was there. It was a start.

The doorbell rang and Laurel’s dad hollered that he would get it. There was no way she could beat him to the door. Delay tactics were her next best bet. She glanced over her shoulder again, staring at her blossom in the mirror. It was as beautiful — and whole — as ever. After a troll ripped out a handful of her petals last year, she’d been concerned it wouldn’t grow back the same. Fortunately, the new blossom didn’t look like it had been affected by the trauma at all. It was still a rich, dark blue at its center, fading to almost white at its tips. The petals fanned out in a four-pointed star that — even now that she knew what it was — looked like wings. Sometimes, when it wasn’t terrifying or incon-veniencing her, Laurel loved her blossom.

And introducing Tamani to her father while she was blooming definitely qualified as inconvenient.

Trying to stifle her nerves, Laurel adjusted her green halter-top and smoothed her capris before walking over to the door and opening it a crack. She listened for a few seconds until she heard Tamani’s soft brogue travel up the stairs. It would be worse than a disaster to head down with her blossom out, only to find that the doorbell had simply been a chatty neighbor.

Not for the first time that morning she considered calling David. He’d emailed her last night and apologized again but she hadn’t responded yet. Truth was, she didn’t know what to say. About an hour earlier she’d actually picked up the phone and started to dial. But the middle of an experiment with Tamani was not the time to work through their issues and she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate if David came over now and there was still tension. I’ll call him as soon as Tamani leaves, she promised herself.

She could hear Tamani and her dad talking as she slowly descended the stairs. It was weird to hear them together, and made her feel strangely jealous. For two years now Tamani had been her secret — her special person. Except for a few times with David, she hadn’t had to share him at all. Sometimes she wished she could go back to the way things used to be. When he had deep-green eyes and longish hair and didn’t wear shoes or jeans. When he was just hers.

She almost didn’t notice when the buzz of conversation stopped. All eyes were on her. “Hey,” she said with a lame wave.

“Hey is right!” her dad said, his voice loud with excitement. “Look at you! I didn’t know you were blossoming.”

Laurel shrugged. “It’s not a big deal,” she said as nonchalantly as she could manage with Tamani standing right there, staring at her blossom, his expression guarded.

Abruptly, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Oh, yeah.

“So,” Laurel said, forcing a smile as her dad continued to gawk at her petals and Tamani looked studiously away. “Dad, Tamani. Tamani, Dad.”

“Yeah, Tamani was just telling me a little about his life as a sentry. I think it’s fascinating.”

“You think everything about the fae is fascinating,” Laurel said, rolling her eyes.

“And why shouldn’t I?” He crossed his arms over her chest and looked at her proudly.

Laurel squirmed at the attention. “Well, we have work to do,” Laurel said, inclining her head toward the stairs.

“Homework?” Laurel’s dad asked, clearly disbelieving.

“Faerie stuff,” Laurel said, shaking her head. “Tamani has generously agreed to donate his body to my research.” The words were out of Laurel’s mouth before she realized how bad they sounded. “I mean he’s helping me,” she corrected herself, feeling like an idiot.

“Awesome! Can I watch?” her dad asked, sounding more like a little boy than a grown man.

“Sure, because my dad watching over my shoulder won’t be awkward at all,” Laurel said cheerfully.

“Fine,” he said, moving over to give her a hug. With his mouth close to her ear he whispered, “You look gorgeous. Keep your door open.”

“Dad!” Laurel hissed, but he only raised an eyebrow at her. She chanced a glance at Tamani, but he just looked bemused. “Fine,” she said, then pulled away and began walking toward the steps. “It’s this way,” she said to Tamani.

Tamani paused for a second, then walked over to Laurel’s dad and stuck out his hand, which Laurel noted was temporarily free of pollen, probably courtesy of Tamani’s pocket-lining. “Great to meet you, Mr. Sewell,” he said.

“Absolutely, Tam.” Laurel cringed. It sounded twice as bizarre coming out of her dad’s mouth. “We’ll have to talk more one of these days.”

“Sure,” Tamani said, reaching his other hand up to clasp her dad’s shoulder. “But for now, wow, it’s Saturday — your store must be really busy.”

“Oh, it usually gets busy at about twelve,” he said, pointing to the clock that read just after eleven.

“Sure, but school started a few weeks ago and people always want books for school, right? I bet they’re really busy down there and could use your help. You should go to the store. Help out. We’ll be fine here.”

It took Laurel about three seconds to realize what was happening.

“You know, you’re right,” her dad said, his voice sounding a little far away. “I should go help them.”

“Well, it was good to see you for a little while at least. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“Yep, that would be great!” Laurel’s dad said, looking a little more like himself. “Well, you two get some good work done. I think I’m going to go down and help Maddie out at the store. It’s a Saturday; I bet it’s busy.” He grabbed his car keys and was out the door.

“Okay,” Laurel said, turning to Tamani, “not cool.”

“What?” Tamani asked, looking genuinely confused. “I got him out of the way.”

“Him? That him is my dad!”

“Enticement doesn’t hurt him,” Tamani protested. “Besides, I’ve been living on my own for years — I don’t do well with hovering parents.”

“My house, my rules,” Laurel said sternly. “Don’t do it again.”

“All right, fine,” Tamani said, raising his hands in front of him. He paused and looked up to where she was standing, a few steps above him. “He was right though, you do look gorgeous.”

Her anger evaporated and she found herself staring at the floor, trying to think of something to say.

“Come on,” Tamani said, sweeping past her, a picture of unaffected nonchalance. “Let’s get started.”

Over the past few years, Laurel’s room had gone from a fairly typical teenager’s room to a pink, fluffy chemistry lab. Her gauzy curtains and girlish bedspread were the same, and the prisms strung along her window still sparkled in the sun and cast rainbows across her room. But instead of bouncing off CDs, makeup, books, and clothes, the light caught vials, mortars, and reagents — bags of leaves, bottles of oils, and baskets of drying flowers.

At least her room always smelled good.

Laurel sat at her desk chair and gestured to a pink vanity stool for Tamani, trying not to think about how often David had sat in that same chair to watch her work.

“So,” Tamani said, talking more to her blossom than her face. “What have you got so far?”

“Uh,” Laurel said, trying to ignore the tightening in her chest, “not a whole lot, actually. I made the phosphorescent right, so that’s good. I tried to make some Cyoan powder too, but it’s just way beyond me.”

“Why Cyoan? That won’t tell you anything about a faerie.”

“But we want something similar. And sometimes, when a Mixing is going really well and I make a mistake, I get this feeling like, well, I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like when I’m playing my guitar, and I play a chord and it sounds right, but I know it’s wrong because it’s not, you know, what I was going for….”

Tamani was smiling helplessly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Laurel laughed. “Me either! And that’s kind of the problem. I think Katya’s right, that different kinds of faeries must process light differently. Like, I like sunlight, but I don’t really use it in my Mixing. And Spring faeries… I think you guys are adaptable. I mean, you stay up all night sometimes, right?”

“Frequently,” Tamani said, in a weary tone that suggested that he’d been staying up a lot of nights lately.

“And the sentries in Hokkaido can withstand enormous amounts of cold.”

Tamani hesitated. “Well, yes, but they have help from the Fall faeries with that. They make them a special tea from—”

“White Bryony, I remember,” Laurel said. “But still, the energy has to come from somewhere. And the Winter faeries use a ton of energy when they… what?” she demanded, when Tamani got a strange brightness in his eyes.

“Listen to you,” he said, pride creeping into his tone. “You’re amazing. You totally get this stuff. I knew you would slip right back into being a Fall faerie.”

Laurel hid a smile as she cleared her throat and busied herself meaninglessly with an already-powdered mixture at the bottom of her mortar.

“So what do we do?” Tamani asked.

“I don’t know. I still don’t think we should drink this stuff. I wondered if it might have an effect on our skin—”

Immediately, Tamani offered her his forearm.

“—but I’m not about to start trying stuff at random. Mixing is pretty hands-on,” Laurel said. “I mean touch-dependent,” she amended. “I mean — before I try anything, I want to get a feel for your cellular makeup, which means I need to touch… you.”

Could that possibly have come out any worse? Laurel thought dismally as she watched Tamani try — and fail — to suppress his amusement.

“Okay,” he said, again holding out his hand, which was sparkling with pollen and looking more than a little magical.

“Actually,” Laurel said slowly, “what I’d really like to do is have you—” Pause. “Take your shirt off and then go to the window and sit in the sunlight. That way your cells can start actively photosynthesizing after having been at rest and I can hopefully feel that activity.”

“That almost makes sense,” Tamani said with a smirk. He walked over to her window seat and sat, then waited for her to come sit behind him. She was careful not to actually let any part of them touch. Not just because it wasn’t a good idea and severely hampered her concentration, but she had learned that if she could keep the rest of her body away from any kind of plant material, her fingers seemed more receptive.

“You ready?” Tamani asked, his voice soft and vaguely suggestive.

Laurel glanced out the window. The sun had just popped out from behind a cloud. “Perfect,” she said quietly. “Go ahead.”

Tamani stretched his long arms over his head, pulling off his T-shirt.

Laurel struggled for focus. She moved her hands to Tamani’s back and splayed her fingers over his skin. Her fingertips pressed in just a little as she closed her eyes and tried to feel, not Tamani in particular, but his cellular dynamics.

She cocked her head to the side as the sun warmed the back of her hands. It took her only a moment to realize her mistake. She was now blocking Tamani’s skin from the sun’s rays. With a frustrated sigh, she lifted her hands, and placed them back down, this time lower and along one side of his ribs where the sun had just been shining. She felt him shift a little, but she was in concentration mode now, and even Tamani couldn’t affect her.

Much.

Laurel had learned from Yeardley how to feel the essential nature of any plant she touched. He assured her that, with study and practice, this feeling would eventually tell her everything she needed to know about a plant — particularly, what it could do if mixed with other plants. She should be able to do the same with Tamani. And if she could find some way to feel the differences between the two of them…

But every time she thought she’d felt something, it faded. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she kept blocking the sunlight, or because the differences she was looking for simply didn’t exist. And the harder she tried, the less she seemed to find. By the time she realized she was squeezing Tamani so hard her fingers were aching, she couldn’t feel any difference at all.

She let go of Tamani and tried not to notice the subtle divots her fingers had left in his back.

“Well?” Tamani asked, turning to her and leaning against the window without making any move to put his shirt back on.

Laurel sighed, frustration washing over her again. “There was… something, but it’s like it went away.”

“Do you want to do it again?” Tamani leaned forward, bringing his face close to hers. He spoke softly, genuinely. No trace of flirting or teasing.

“I don’t think it would help.” She was still trying to sort out the sensations she felt in her fingertips. Like a word on the tip of her tongue, or an interrupted sneeze, so close that staring at it would only chase it away. She closed her eyes and placed her fingers against her temples, massaging them slowly, sensing the life in her own cells. It was as familiar as ever.

“I wish… I wish that I could… feel you better,” she said, wishing she knew a better way to say it. “I just, I can’t quite get at what I’m trying to reach. It’s like your skin is in the way. At the Academy I would slice my sample open, but obviously that’s not an option right now,” she said with a laugh.

“What else do you do when you can’t figure out what a plant does? Besides cut it open, I mean,” Tamani asked.

“Smell it,” Laurel responded automatically. “I can taste the ones that aren’t poisonous.”

“Taste?”

She looked up at Tamani, at his half smile. “No,” she said, instantly knowing what he had in mind. “No, no, no, n—”

Her words were cut off as two pollen-dusted hands cupped Laurel’s cheeks and Tamani pressed his mouth against hers, parting her lips with his own.

Stars exploded in Laurel’s head, their rainbow ashes coalescing into a torrential pastiche, a rapid-fire flipbook of flower parades and crazy. Through her head, unbidden, fleeting, and difficult to grasp, poured thoughts that made her giddy and queasy at once. Mix with zantedeschia stamens for a potent antitoxin. Age revitalization in animals if fermented with amrita. Injectable Enticement block, rose petals, photo-resistor, salve daisies balm tincturepoisonnectardeath—Laurel jerked away from Tamani, too dazed to slap him.

“Laurel? Laurel, are you all right?”

Laurel slumped back into her chair and brought her fingers to her lips.

“Laurel, I—”

“I asked you not to.” Laurel could tell that her tone was flat. Distant. But her mind was reeling. She knew she should be furious, but Tamani’s presence barely registered at all, blocked out by the sensations that had assaulted her mind.

“You weren’t going to do it. I had to at least try. I didn’t mean anything by it—”

“Yes, you did,” Laurel said. Research was a convenient excuse, but Tamani had seen an opportunity and taken it. Fortunately for him, it had worked. Sort of. She looked up, numbly, at Tamani. Gradually it dawned on her that he had no idea what just happened.

“You want me to apologize? I will, if it’s that important to you. I’m—”

Laurel put one finger to his lips, silencing him. At the touch of him the overwhelming flow of information didn’t return, but the images were fresh in her memory. Is that how it always feels, for the other Falls? she wondered. Or was that a fluke?

Her expression must have been perplexing, because Tamani stepped backward, out of Laurel’s reach, and held his hands up, palms out, pleading. “Look, I just thought—”

“Shut up,” Laurel said. Her tone was still flat, but she wasn’t feeling quite so numb anymore. “We’ll deal with that later. When you kissed me, I got all these… ideas. For potions I’ve never heard of.” She thought of the way the word poison had invaded her mind. “I think maybe they’re forbidden.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been doing it wrong, Tamani. I don’t need to touch you. I might need to test my potions on you, assuming I find the right plants, but touching you won’t tell me how to make potions for you.”

It took him a moment to process what she was saying. “What did it tell you, Laurel?”

“It told me how to make potions from you.”

“Holy Hecate, petals, branches, and breath,” Tamani swore, his face lined with concern. “You can do that?”

“With study and practice,” Laurel said quietly. How many times had Yeardley spoken those words to her? “I… I don’t think that was something I was supposed to know about,” she said softly. “I don’t know why.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Surely the other Falls know?”

“I don’t know. Nobody’s ever said anything. Why…” She was having trouble forming a coherent thought. Who in their right mind would think to use other fae as ingredients? “Why didn’t that happen before?” she finally demanded. “It’s not like I haven’t… kissed you before.”

Tamani’s grin was a little pained now. “Um, I may have bitten down on my tongue pretty hard just before I kissed you.”

Laurel’s thoughts jerked to a stop. “That’s disgusting!”

“Hey,” Tamani said with a shrug, “you said you cut things open and taste them, and I knew you weren’t going to try either of those things on your own.”

He was right. Clearly it had made a difference. Casually touching him — or even kissing — wasn’t enough. And yet…

“You should probably go,” Laurel said sternly. The numbness was fading. Tamani had kissed her! Without permission. Again! She knew she should be furious, but somehow anger couldn’t pierce the shock she felt at her new discovery.

“If it makes you feel better, it really hurt,” Tamani admitted, his jaw at a funny angle.

“I’m sorry. And at least this time you didn’t do it while David was watching,” Laurel added. “But you shouldn’t have done it at all.”

Tamani simply nodded before turning and silently exiting the room.

As he left, Laurel brought her hand once more to her lips and lost herself in thought. Not thoughts of Tamani, for once. Thoughts of potions, powders, and poisons she somehow knew she was never supposed to learn.