Illusions
Page 8
“Yuki?” Klea prompted. Yuki raised her chin and lifted her long eyelashes, settling her gaze on Laurel.
Laurel blinked in surprise. The girl had elegant almond-shaped eyes, but they were a shockingly pale green that seemed at odds with her dark hair and complexion. Very beautiful, though—a striking combination.
“Hi.” Feeling awkward, Laurel thrust her hand out. Yuki took it, limply; Laurel quickly let go. The whole encounter was weirding her out. “You’re our new foreign exchange student, right?” Laurel asked, her eyes flitting to Klea.
Klea cleared her throat. “Not exactly. Well, she is from Japan, but we may have falsified some paperwork to get her into your school system. Calling her foreign exchange was the easiest way.”
Laurel’s lips formed a silent O.
“Can we sit?” Klea asked.
Laurel nodded numbly.
“You may recall, I solicited the possibility of your assistance last fall,” Klea began, leaning back in the wicker chair. “I hoped we wouldn’t need it, but unfortunately, we do. Yuki is . . . a person of interest to my organization. Not an enemy,” she added quickly, cutting off Laurel’s question. She turned to Yuki and stroked her long hair, brushing it back from her face. “She needs protection. We rescued her from trolls when she was just a baby, and placed her with a host family in Japan, as far from any known hordes as we could manage.” Klea sighed. “Unfortunately, nothing is foolproof. Last fall, Yuki’s host family—um, foster parents—were killed by trolls trying to capture her. We barely got her out in time.”
Laurel looked over at Yuki, who was staring calmly back, as if Klea had not just spoken of her parents’ murder.
“They sent her to me. Again. She’s been traveling with us, but she really ought to be in school.” Klea removed her sunglasses, just long enough to rub wearily at her eyes. It wasn’t even sunny out—but of course, Klea wore the stupid things even at night, so Laurel wasn’t surprised. “Plus, we managed to clear out the trolls in this area last year. Anyway, I don’t want to put her back in danger, and I certainly don’t want any new trolls to discover her. So we’ve put her in school here.”
“I don’t understand. Why here? What do you need me for?” Laurel saw no reason to conceal her skepticism. She had seen Klea’s camp—when it came to trolls, she couldn’t think of anyone less in need of help than Klea.
“Hopefully, not much. But I’m in a real bind. I can’t risk having her with me on a hunt. If I send her too far away, she’s vulnerable to trolls I don’t know about. If I don’t send her far enough, anything that slips through our dragnet could come after her. You held your own against five trolls last year, and Jeremiah Barnes was an especially difficult case. Considering that, I suspect you could deal with any . . . rogue elements that might show up in town. And I just thought you’d be a good person to keep an eye on her. Please?” Klea added, almost as an afterthought.
There had to be more to this than Klea was saying, but Laurel couldn’t imagine what. Was Yuki here to spy on Laurel? Or was Laurel letting Tamani’s suspicions make her paranoid? Klea had saved Laurel’s life—twice! Still, her reluctance to trust Klea was an unscratchable itch. No matter how much sense the woman made, no matter how plausible her stories sounded, every word that came out of her mouth felt wrong.
Was Klea being deliberately mysterious now? Maybe it was because this was the first time Laurel had seen Klea in broad daylight, or because she was emboldened by the nearness of her faerie protectors, or even just because she was older and more confident now. But whatever the reason, Laurel decided she’d had enough. “Klea, why don’t you just tell me what you’re really doing here?”
This, strangely, made Yuki chuckle, if only a little. Klea’s face was momentarily expressionless, then she too smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Laurel—you still don’t trust me, after everything I’ve done for you. And why should you? You know nothing about me. Your caution is to your credit. But I need you to trust me now, at least enough to help me out, so I’ll give it to you straight.” She looked over at Yuki, who was staring down into her lap. Klea leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We think the trolls are after Yuki because she’s not exactly . . . human.”
Laurel’s eyes widened.
“We’ve classified her as a dryad,” Klea continued. “It seems to fit. But she’s the only specimen we’ve encountered. All we know for sure is that she’s not an animal; she has plant cells. She seems to take nourishment from the soil and sunlight as well as external sources. She doesn’t exhibit any paranormal abilities, like the strength or persuasion we see in trolls, but her metabolism is a little miraculous, so . . . anyway. I really do need you to keep an eye on her. It may be months before I can arrange a permanent safe house. My hope is that I’ve hidden her well enough for now, but if not, you’re my backup plan.”
It took less than a second for Laurel to understand. She turned back to Yuki, and Yuki finally looked up at Laurel. Her pale green eyes. They were mirrors of Laurel’s eyes. Aaron’s eyes. Katya’s eyes. And, lately, Tamani’s eyes.
Those were faerie eyes.
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 . . .
Laurel blinked in surprise. The girl had elegant almond-shaped eyes, but they were a shockingly pale green that seemed at odds with her dark hair and complexion. Very beautiful, though—a striking combination.
“Hi.” Feeling awkward, Laurel thrust her hand out. Yuki took it, limply; Laurel quickly let go. The whole encounter was weirding her out. “You’re our new foreign exchange student, right?” Laurel asked, her eyes flitting to Klea.
Klea cleared her throat. “Not exactly. Well, she is from Japan, but we may have falsified some paperwork to get her into your school system. Calling her foreign exchange was the easiest way.”
Laurel’s lips formed a silent O.
“Can we sit?” Klea asked.
Laurel nodded numbly.
“You may recall, I solicited the possibility of your assistance last fall,” Klea began, leaning back in the wicker chair. “I hoped we wouldn’t need it, but unfortunately, we do. Yuki is . . . a person of interest to my organization. Not an enemy,” she added quickly, cutting off Laurel’s question. She turned to Yuki and stroked her long hair, brushing it back from her face. “She needs protection. We rescued her from trolls when she was just a baby, and placed her with a host family in Japan, as far from any known hordes as we could manage.” Klea sighed. “Unfortunately, nothing is foolproof. Last fall, Yuki’s host family—um, foster parents—were killed by trolls trying to capture her. We barely got her out in time.”
Laurel looked over at Yuki, who was staring calmly back, as if Klea had not just spoken of her parents’ murder.
“They sent her to me. Again. She’s been traveling with us, but she really ought to be in school.” Klea removed her sunglasses, just long enough to rub wearily at her eyes. It wasn’t even sunny out—but of course, Klea wore the stupid things even at night, so Laurel wasn’t surprised. “Plus, we managed to clear out the trolls in this area last year. Anyway, I don’t want to put her back in danger, and I certainly don’t want any new trolls to discover her. So we’ve put her in school here.”
“I don’t understand. Why here? What do you need me for?” Laurel saw no reason to conceal her skepticism. She had seen Klea’s camp—when it came to trolls, she couldn’t think of anyone less in need of help than Klea.
“Hopefully, not much. But I’m in a real bind. I can’t risk having her with me on a hunt. If I send her too far away, she’s vulnerable to trolls I don’t know about. If I don’t send her far enough, anything that slips through our dragnet could come after her. You held your own against five trolls last year, and Jeremiah Barnes was an especially difficult case. Considering that, I suspect you could deal with any . . . rogue elements that might show up in town. And I just thought you’d be a good person to keep an eye on her. Please?” Klea added, almost as an afterthought.
There had to be more to this than Klea was saying, but Laurel couldn’t imagine what. Was Yuki here to spy on Laurel? Or was Laurel letting Tamani’s suspicions make her paranoid? Klea had saved Laurel’s life—twice! Still, her reluctance to trust Klea was an unscratchable itch. No matter how much sense the woman made, no matter how plausible her stories sounded, every word that came out of her mouth felt wrong.
Was Klea being deliberately mysterious now? Maybe it was because this was the first time Laurel had seen Klea in broad daylight, or because she was emboldened by the nearness of her faerie protectors, or even just because she was older and more confident now. But whatever the reason, Laurel decided she’d had enough. “Klea, why don’t you just tell me what you’re really doing here?”
This, strangely, made Yuki chuckle, if only a little. Klea’s face was momentarily expressionless, then she too smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Laurel—you still don’t trust me, after everything I’ve done for you. And why should you? You know nothing about me. Your caution is to your credit. But I need you to trust me now, at least enough to help me out, so I’ll give it to you straight.” She looked over at Yuki, who was staring down into her lap. Klea leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We think the trolls are after Yuki because she’s not exactly . . . human.”
Laurel’s eyes widened.
“We’ve classified her as a dryad,” Klea continued. “It seems to fit. But she’s the only specimen we’ve encountered. All we know for sure is that she’s not an animal; she has plant cells. She seems to take nourishment from the soil and sunlight as well as external sources. She doesn’t exhibit any paranormal abilities, like the strength or persuasion we see in trolls, but her metabolism is a little miraculous, so . . . anyway. I really do need you to keep an eye on her. It may be months before I can arrange a permanent safe house. My hope is that I’ve hidden her well enough for now, but if not, you’re my backup plan.”
It took less than a second for Laurel to understand. She turned back to Yuki, and Yuki finally looked up at Laurel. Her pale green eyes. They were mirrors of Laurel’s eyes. Aaron’s eyes. Katya’s eyes. And, lately, Tamani’s eyes.
Those were faerie eyes.
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 . . .
