Wings

TWENTY-ONE

TO HIS CREDIT, DAVID HANDLED THE MEETING FAIRLY well, especially considering he was shaken awake by a strange man who did little but glare at him while Laurel stammered out introductions. He accepted the idea of the men being trolls better than Laurel had, and Laurel wondered if he was fully awake — or perhaps in shock. Nonetheless, he was ready to play chauffeur.

Tamani got into the backseat and left the door open, his eyes inviting Laurel to sit beside him. She glanced at David — his clothes rumpled and dirty from their escapade in the river and a bruise starting to form on his cheek where she’d slapped him — and smiled in apology as she softly closed the back door and slipped into the passenger seat. Tamani didn’t accept loss so easily though, and as David made his way up onto the highway, Tamani leaned forward and snaked his arm around the headrest so his hand could rest on Laurel’s shoulder.

If David saw in the dim light, he didn’t comment.

Laurel looked at the clock. Almost four. She sighed. “My mom’s gonna freak. What about yours?” she asked David.

“Hopefully not. I told her I might stay overnight with you and she said it would be okay if I missed a day of school. But I’ll call her as soon as it’s late enough and tell her I’m with you.”

“If she had any idea…” Laurel let her words trail away.

“What’s the plan?” David asked, changing the subject.

Tamani answered. “You take me to this house, I take care of the trolls, you bring me back. Pretty simple.”

“Tell me more about these trolls,” David said. “They were the scariest things I’ve ever seen.”

“I hope it stays that way.”

David shivered. “Me too. When they took us to the river, this…this troll lifted me like I weighed nothing. I’m not that small of a guy.”

“Meh, taller than me, I’ll give you that.” Tamani turned toward Laurel and his condescending tone disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Trolls are — well, they’re almost a glitch in evolution. They’re animals, like you, David — primates, even. But they’re not quite human. Stronger than humans, as you discovered — able to heal faster, too. It’s like evolution tried to make a superhuman of sorts, but it got a little messed up.”

“Just because they’re ugly?” David asked.

“Being ugly is just a side effect. The problem is that they don’t match.”

“What do you mean, match?” Laurel asked.

“They lack symmetry. Symmetry’s what’s different about faeries too. Humans, they’re mostly symmetrical — as near as animals can be with their chaotic cells. Two eyes, two arms, two legs. All the same length and proportions — more or less. Impressive, really, considering.”

“Considering what?” David asked hotly.

“Considering your cells are so irregular. You can’t deny it; not if you’re as smart as Laurel keeps telling me.” The remark was made with simmering undertones, but it apparently placated David. “Laurel and me”—he stroked her neck as he said it—“we’re exactly symmetrical. If you could bend us in half, every part would match precisely. That’s why Laurel looks so much like one of your fashion models. Symmetry.”

“And the trolls aren’t?” Laurel asked, desperate to turn the subject away from her.

Tamani shook his head. “Not even close. You remember you told me Barnes’s eye drooped and his nose was off-center? There’s your physical asymmetry. Although it’s very subtle in him. It’s not normally that way. I’ve seen troll babies so badly misshapen that even their ugly mothers wouldn’t keep them. Legs growing out of their heads, necks set sideways into shoulders. It’s a terrible sight. Long, long ago the faeries would try to take them in. But when evolution has given up on you, death is unavoidable. And it’s more than just the physical. The stupider you are — the worse evolution screwed you up — the less symmetrical you are.”

“Why don’t the trolls die out?” David asked.

“Unfortunately, they have their successes as well as failures; trolls like Barnes who can blend into the human world. Some can even exercise a degree of control over humans. We have no idea how many, but they could be everywhere.”

“How can you tell them apart from humans?”

“That’s the problem — it’s not that easy. Nearly impossible, sometimes — though not as a sentry. Trolls simply don’t respond to our magic.”

“Not at all?” Laurel asked.

“Not Spring magic, at any rate. And a shame, too. Would make my job today a lot easier. There are a few signs that set trolls apart from humans, but many of them can be hidden.”

“What kind of signs?” Laurel asked.

“Originally, trolls lived underground because the sunlight was too hard on their skin. With modern inventions like sun-block and lotion, they’re much better off, but even so, their skin is rarely healthy.”

Laurel winced, remembering the way Bess’s skin had cracked and feathered around her collar.

“Along with the asymmetry, their eyes are often different colors, but contact lenses can hide that well enough too. The only way you would probably be sure is to either observe their strength or catch them eating a big hunk of bloody meat.”

“Barnes was fascinated by the blood on my arm,” Laurel said.

“You don’t bleed,” Tamani said.

“Well, it wasn’t my blood; it was David’s.”

“On your arm?”

Laurel nodded. “He cut his arm coming through the window. Same time I cut my back.”

“A good amount of blood?” Tamani asked.

“Enough to cover Barnes’s palm when he grabbed me.”

Tamani chuckled. “That explains throwing you in the river. No troll in their right mind would try to drown a faerie. He didn’t know what you are.”

“Why would he know?”

Tamani sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s very easy for trolls to distinguish humans from faeries. A troll’s sense of smell is keenly tuned to blood, and faeries don’t have any. Unless you’re blossoming, a troll won’t be able to smell you at all. Coming upon what looks like a human who has no scent of blood would tip him off immediately.”

“But David bled on me. So he smelled enough blood that he didn’t suspect?”

“It’s the only logical explanation.”

“What about in the hospital?”

“Hospitals reek of blood to a troll. Even bleach doesn’t dim the smell. He wouldn’t have noticed ten faeries in a hospital.”

“And at your house,” David said, “I smelled like smoke from the bonfire.”

“He came to your house!” Tamani said, the hand on Laurel’s shoulder tightening a little. “You forgot to mention that.”

“A long time ago. I didn’t know what he was.”

Tamani’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “You’ve been very, very lucky. If he’d have realized what you were before, you’d probably be dead right now.”

Laurel’s head was starting to spin and she leaned back against the headrest — right against Tamani’s cheek. She didn’t rectify her mistake.

They neared Brookings and Tamani began grilling Laurel about the layout of the house. “It would be easier if I came with you,” she protested after describing the house in every way she could think of. Which wasn’t much — it had been too dark.

“Not a chance. I won’t risk you — you’re too important.”

“I’m not that important,” Laurel grumbled, sliding down in her seat a little.

“You’re set to inherit the land, Laurel. Don’t take that lightly.”

“I could help — be a backup.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Why?” Laurel snapped. “Because I’m not some specially trained sentry?”

“Because it’s too dangerous,” Tamani snapped back, raising his voice. He sat back in his seat. “Don’t make me lose you again,” he whispered.

She knelt on the seat and turned around to look at him. His face was just visible in the early morning glow. “What if I make sure to stay out of sight? If something happens to you, we’ll need to know.”

His face didn’t change.

“I won’t try to fight or anything,” she promised.

Tamani paused and mulled this over for a few seconds. “If I say no, are you going to follow me anyway?”

“Of course.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Listen to me.” He leaned forward, his nose almost touching hers as he spoke quietly but with an intensity that almost made Laurel wish she hadn’t brought it up in the first place. “If there’s trouble, you let me go. You drive straight back to Shar and tell him what happened. You promise?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t leave you.”

“I want your word, Laurel.”

“It won’t happen anyway. Like you told Shar, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. Your word.”

Laurel bit at her lower lip, wondering if there was some way to get out of this. But Tamani was not going to leave it alone. “Fine,” she said sullenly.

“Then you can come.”

“What about me?” David asked.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?” David demanded, gripping the steering wheel. “I’d be more of a help than Laurel — no offense,” he added with a smile.

“Well, I guess you can come,” Tamani said, smiling wickedly, “if you want to be bait.”

“Tamani!” Laurel protested.

“It’s true. Not only is he human, he’s got open wounds. Barnes would smell him a hundred feet away. Maybe more. He’s bait, or he doesn’t come.” Tamani leaned forward again and lightly punched David’s shoulder in what anyone else would have thought was a friendly gesture, but Laurel knew better. “No, mate. I suggest you man the getaway car.”

David couldn’t argue. Not unless he wanted to insist on being bait.

They pulled off the 101 onto Alder just as the sky was pinking up. As they reached Maple and began to retrace the route she and David had taken the night before, Laurel grew more and more nervous. She’d been so confident and arrogant last night. She’d known she was right and had been determined to find answers. Now she knew firsthand just what she was up against, and her confidence was rapidly dwindling.

“Tamani?” she asked, even though she knew this was the wrong time. “How is a plant supposed to beat a superstrong troll?”

For once Tamani did not grin. His face was stony and his eyes hooded. “Stealth,” he replied softly. “Stealth and speed. It’s the only advantage I have.”

Laurel didn’t like the sound of that.