Illusions

by Aprilynne Pike

  He drove to his empty apartment and let himself in. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, instead sitting silently in the shadows as the sun set and the room grew dark. He tried not to think too hard about what Laurel would be doing that weekend. Even with the privacy he tried to afford her—and not just to be polite—he had witnessed more soft kisses and intimate embraces than he wanted to think about. He suspected that every weekend would be the same, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

  Forcing himself back to his feet, Tamani walked over to the window that looked out on the line of trees behind the apartment complex. Jamison had told him to trust himself, and he was going to. A few days ago he’d shadowed Yuki to the small house he could only assume she lived in. The squads who would watch her full time wouldn’t arrive for another day or two. It meant he’d get very little sleep tonight, but for now, he would watch her himself.

  Chapter Ten

  “TOO WEIRD,” DAVID SAID AS THEY SAT ON LAUREL’S bed talking about her trip to Avalon and ignoring the textbooks spread out around them.

  “I know, right? I sort of assumed being cast out for your beliefs was a human thing. Which I personally find totally ironic.”

  David laughed. “I was thinking along the lines of breaking the laws of physics by traveling thousands of miles yesterday in, like, two seconds.”

  “Different strokes,” Laurel said, waving his comment away with a smile. “So did you find out anything about the membrane Katya was talking about?”

  “I think so,” David said. Then, in a teasing tone, “Did you?”

  “Maybe? From what I read online, the thylakoid membrane is the place where the chloroplasts are. So all of the conversion from sunlight into energy happens there.”

  “We got the same answer, then,” David said, smiling. “So your friend Katya said that in Summer faeries, the thylakoid is more efficient. I guess that means it gets more energy out of less sunlight.”

  “Probably because their magic uses light,” Laurel said, thinking back on the “fireworks” she’d watched at the Samhain festival last year.

  “And Katya discovered this because she and her friends basically drank the equivalent of glow-sticks, right?” David asked, not bothering to contain his amusement.

  “Essentially,” Laurel said, rolling her eyes.

  “Wish I could do something like that.”

  Laurel raised an eyebrow at him.

  “No, seriously,” David said. “Can you imagine how cool that would be? Like at Halloween, you could give kids some kind of glow punch before they went trick-or-treating and they would be safer.”

  “Something tells me the safety of a bunch of kids was not the first thought you had,” Laurel said.

  “Well, maybe it would also be fun to jump out from behind a tree at night, glowing all funky green.”

  “That’s more like it.” Laurel looked down at the scant notes Katya had helped her make. “It seems like if I got a sample of cells and treated them with a phosphorescing substance, I could observe how long the cells kept their glow and could rule out Summer fairly easily.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be quite that simple,” David said, rolling over onto his stomach and bringing his head close to Laurel’s. “Katya’s friend probably kept glowing because she was still alive, so the thylakoid membrane processed all of the phosphorescent. If you had a sample, the cells wouldn’t still be living and growing. You’d have to find a way to keep the sample alive. Or test it right on Yuki’s skin.”

  “Something tells me she’s not going to agree to that,” Laurel said wryly.

  They both sat back, silent for a while.

  “You can keep flowers fresh with sugar water, right?”

  David shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

  “And when we got thrown in the Chetko River by Barnes’s trolls, Tamani patched me up and put me under this light that helped me heal. It was like . . . portable sunshine. What if I was able to somehow, without being noticed”—she shook her head, trying not to worry about that hurdle just yet—“get a small sample from Yuki? I could put it in a solution of sugar water and then expose it to that special light. Do you think that would be enough to keep it alive and processing?”

  “Maybe. I mean, if it was a regular plant, I would be skeptical, but faeries are the most highly evolved form of plant life, right?”

  Laurel nodded.

  “And that light is faerie magic stuff, so it might be enough. Can you make the light thing?”

  “No, it’s really, really advanced. But Tamani can probably get one for me.”

  “Can you make the glow stuff?”

  Laurel nodded. “I think so.”

  “And will you drink some one of these nights so you glow in the dark?”

  Laurel’s jaw dropped. “No!”

  “Please? It would be awesome.” He was raised up on his knees now, his hands clenched excitedly. “I would totally do it if I could.”

  “No.”

  “Come on!”

  “No!”

  David poked her ribs. “You’d be pretty. Like a sparkling angel.”

  “I’d probably just look radioactive. No thanks.”

  He grabbed her now, pinning her under him and tickling her sides till she gasped for air.

  “Stop!”

  He pulled his hands away and flopped down beside her. “You’re amazing, you know,” he said, pushing a lock of hair off her forehead.

  “So are you.”

  He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “Whatever. One of these days you’ll get tired of me and toss me aside.”

  He was smiling, but there was a tiny note of seriousness in his voice. “I’m never going to get bored of you, David,” Laurel said softly.

  “I sure hope not,” he replied, burying his face in her neck. “Because if you ever do, I’m afraid regular old human life would bore me right to death.”

  * * *

  Laurel looked for Tamani as soon as she got to school on Monday. She wondered what he had been doing all weekend—especially in light of their new discoveries. And she was anxious to find out if he could get her the light globe. It would take a few days to make the phosphorescent, but she was hoping to be able to try out her new theory on herself in the next couple of weeks.

  Just in time to use a piece of her blossom.

  She had discovered the tiny bump forming when she got out of the shower and felt a familiar tingling where her hair fell against her back. It was fairly early, but summer had been warmer than usual, and Mother Nature seemed anxious to make up for it in the fall. The air had chilled and the leaves were already starting to turn. Fog season had commenced and the early mornings were downright murky. And Laurel was as affected by the weather as every other plant in Crescent City.

  Still, Laurel had been expecting her blossom early, but the bump had never started growing in September. She’d stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Here we go again,” she whispered.

  Not that she had any reason to whisper. Her blossom was a secret she kept from the world, but not from her family. After last year, when her lies had almost cost her life—and Chelsea’s—Laurel had adopted honesty as her best policy. And considering how many people she already had to hide from, it was nice to just be herself in her own home. Her parents knew everything—about her and her faerie identity, that Tamani was in school now, even about Yuki.

  She hadn’t mentioned how she felt about Tamani, and she may have downplayed the significance of Yuki being a faerie, but her parents didn’t need a detailed analysis of everything that happened in Laurel’s life. They were smart people; they could draw their own conclusions.

  Laurel didn’t see Tamani anywhere among the teeming students, but David was waiting for her at their lockers.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” she said, pulling him to her in a warm embrace.

  He caught her cheek in his hand, his thumb pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes and raising her chin. Laurel
smiled, anticipating a kiss.

  “Hey, Laurel.”

  Laurel and David turned to see Tamani waving as he walked past, grinning—probably with satisfaction that he had successfully interrupted their public display of affection. Laurel watched as he walked away and realized that hers and David’s were not the only eyes marking his progress.

  Yuki, standing across the hall, was also watching, her eyes fixed on him with a strange, almost wistful expression.

  “Weird,” Laurel said under her breath.

  “You’re telling me,” David grumbled, his eyes on Tamani’s back.

  “Not him,” Laurel said, gripping David’s arm firmly. “Yuki.”

  David’s eyes flitted over to Yuki, who had turned back to her locker and was pulling books off the top shelf.

  “What about her?”

  “I don’t know. She looked at him funny.” Laurel paused. “I should go talk to her—I’m still supposed to befriend her. A nice, happy word for ‘spy on,’” she added in a whisper.

  David nodded and Laurel started to walk away. She paused to squeeze his hand, then hurried off toward Yuki. “Hey, Yuki!” Laurel said, cringing at the tinny brightness of her tone.

  The shy way Yuki ducked her head told Laurel that she’d heard it too. “Hi,” she responded politely.

  “We haven’t talked much,” Laurel said, trying to find something relevant to say. “I just wanted to make sure you’re adjusting okay.”

  “I’m fine,” Yuki said, sounding moody.

  “Well,” Laurel said, feeling like the biggest dork ever, “just let me know if you need anything, all right?”

  Something flashed in Yuki’s eyes and she stepped to the side of the hallway, away from the stream of students, and pulled Laurel with her. “Listen, just because Klea decided to come to you for help doesn’t mean I actually need it.”

  “I don’t mind,” Laurel said earnestly, placing one hand on Yuki’s shoulder. “I mean, I was so lost when I was a sophomore. I can only imagine you feel the same.”

  Yuki glared at her now, and Laurel felt her mouth go dry. Yuki shrugged her hand away. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. I don’t need your guidance and I certainly don’t need your pity.” Then she spun, her light blue skirt swirling out around her legs, and headed down the hallway.

  “Gee,” Laurel said to no one in particular, “that went well.”

  This chain of events played itself out, with hardly any variation, the next day, and again two days later. “I swear, she hates me,” Laurel whispered to Tamani later that week as Mrs. Harms droned on about the War of 1812. “I didn’t do anything!”

  “We need to work on your people skills,” Tamani said, grinning.

  “Is it really worth it? Do you think she’s going to just spill her guts to us?”

  “You ever heard that saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”

  “We don’t know that she’s an enemy.”

  “No,” Tamani agreed, “we absolutely don’t. But either way, we should keep her close.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I offered her my help and I told you how well that went.”

  “Come on,” Tamani said, his voice soft, but a touch chiding. “Wouldn’t you hate someone who came up and was all patronizing like that?”

  Laurel had to admit he was right. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  He hesitated and glanced at Mrs. Harms, then leaned a little closer. “Why don’t you let me try?”

  “Try . . . making friends with her?”

  “Sure. We have a lot in common. Well, more than she knows—but we’re both foreign and new to Crescent City. And,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “you have to admit I’m handsome and charismatic.”

  Laurel just stared.

  “Plus, I’m saying hi to you in the halls now.” That was certainly true. About three times a day and usually timed for maximum kiss interruption.

  “Indeed you are,” Laurel said blandly.

  “So I build a friendship with you, and with her, and a few weeks down the line the roads could converge, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “It could work,” she agreed, inwardly grateful for the excuse not to have more awkward conversations with Yuki. Her mom always told her you couldn’t force someone to like you, and the last several days were definitely proof of that.

  “Plus, I’m not connected with Klea—as far as she knows, anyway. I might have more luck working stuff out of her.”

  Laurel couldn’t imagine Tamani not getting exactly the information he wanted out of pretty much anyone. She leaned back and shrugged. “She’s all yours.”

  Tamani pulled his car alongside Yuki, who was on the sidewalk headed toward the little house where she seemed to stay every moment she wasn’t in school. When she didn’t look up at him, he called out, “You want a ride?”

  She turned, eyes wide, books clutched to her chest. Recognition dawned instantly, but she quickly refocused on the ground in front of her and shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

  “Aww, come on,” Tamani said with a playful grin. “I don’t bite . . . hard.”

  She looked up at him now, concentration in her eyes. “No thanks.”

  “Okay,” he said after a minute. “Suit yourself.” He sped up, pulling ahead of her, and then veered off onto the shoulder. He was sliding from his seat as Yuki reached the car, staring at him in confusion.

  “What are you doing?”

  Tamani swung the door shut. “You didn’t want a ride, so I figured it was a nice day for a walk.”

  She stopped. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Well, you don’t have to walk with me, but if you don’t I’ll look awfully strange talking to no one.” And then he turned and started walking at a leisurely pace. He counted very slowly to ten in his head, and just as he reached nine, he heard the crunch of gravel as she hurried to catch up. Perfect.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she reached him. “I don’t mean to be antisocial, it’s just, I don’t really know anyone yet. And I don’t take rides from strangers.”

  “I’m not a stranger,” Tamani said, making sure to meet her hesitant gaze. “I was probably the very first person you met at school.” He chuckled. “Other than Robison, I mean.”

  “You didn’t act like you even saw me,” Yuki said guardedly.

  Tamani shrugged. “I admit I was pretty focused on just understanding people. They talk funny here. Like they all have cotton balls in their mouths.”

  She laughed openly now and Tamani took the opportunity to study her. She really was quite pretty, when she wasn’t staring at the ground and he could see her lovely green eyes. She had a nice smile too—something else he hadn’t seen much of.

  “I’m Tam, by the way,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Yuki.” She looked at his hand for a moment before taking it tentatively. He held it a little longer than necessary, trying to coax another smile out of her.

  “Don’t you have . . . a host student to walk with you?” Tamani asked as they turned and headed down the sidewalk. “Isn’t that the ‘exchange’ part?”

  “Um . . .” She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not really. I’m kind of a special case.”

  “So who do you live with?”

  “I live alone most of the time. Not alone alone,” she hurriedly corrected. “I mean my host, her name’s Klea, she checks on me every day and comes by all the time. She just travels for her job a lot. Don’t tell the school, though,” she added, looking almost shocked at herself for telling him at all. “They think Klea’s around a lot more.”

  “I won’t,” Tamani said, deliberately casual. He had watched her house and knew Klea hadn’t set foot in the place in more than a week. “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen,” she replied immediately.

  Not a moment’s hesitation. If she was lying, she was very good at it.

  “Is it lonely?”

  She paused now, worry
ing her bottom lip with her teeth. “Sometimes. But mostly I like it. I mean, no one tells me when to go to bed or what to watch on TV. Most kids would kill for that.”

  “I know I would,” Tamani said. “My uncle’s always been pretty strict with me.” To say the least, he added to himself. “But the older I get, the more freedom he gives me.”

  Yuki turned up the path to a small house without thought. “Is this it?” Tamani asked.

  Not that Tamani actually had to ask. He knew the cottage on sight. It was covered in ivy and had one small bedroom in the back, with a common area behind the front door. He knew her bedspread was purple and that she had pictures of pop stars ripped from magazines hanging on her walls. He also knew she didn’t enjoy being alone as much as she claimed and spent a lot of time lying faceup on her bed just staring at the ceiling.

  What she didn’t know was that as long as she was in Crescent City, she would never be home alone again.

  “Um, yeah,” she said quickly, startled, as if she hadn’t realized how far they’d walked.

  “I’ll leave you here, then,” Tamani said, not wanting to overstay his welcome on their first encounter. He gestured back the way they had come with his thumb. “I kinda left my car a little way up the road.”

  She smiled again, showing one shallow dimple in her left cheek that caught Tamani off guard. Not that they were exceptionally rare among the fae, but with their inherent symmetry, having one on only one side was quite uncommon. Still Tamani couldn’t help smiling back. She did seem like a sweet kid. He hoped it wasn’t an act.

  “So,” he said, already walking slowly backward, “if I say hi to you tomorrow, you going to say hi back?”

  His step faltered just a little when she didn’t answer.

  “Why are you doing this, Tam?” she asked after a long pause.

  “Doing what?” Tamani asked, stopping now.

  “This,” she said, gesturing between the two of them.

  He did his best to look both playful and sheepish. “I lied,” he said carefully. “I did notice you that first day.” He shrugged and looked down at his feet. “I noticed you right away. It just took me a while to get up the guts to approach you, I guess.”