Illusions (24 page)

EVERYTHING SEEMED FUNNY ON THE TEN-MINUTE
walk back to her house. Sadly, though, Laurel's good spirits were not helping her hair at all. “Why can't you be a regular guy who carries a comb in his pocket?” she asked, trying to finger-comb through the tangles.

“When have I ever given you even the slightest impression that I am a ‘regular guy'?”

“Point,” Laurel said, poking his stomach.

He grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides, and spun her around as she shrieked. He was different. Relaxed and casual in a way she hadn't seen him for weeks. Really, since the afternoon at the cabin in Orick. It was easy to focus on herself and forget that everything was at least as stressful to Tamani as it was for her. But today, in that long hour of letting themselves just
be
, they had both found a kind of rest they desperately needed. Laurel kept expecting the usual guilt to settle in, but it didn't.

“This is not helping my hair,” she said, gasping for breath.

“I think your hair is a lost cause,” Tamani said, letting her go.

“Sadly, I imagine you're right,” Laurel replied. “Maybe my parents won't notice.”

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Tamani said, smirking.

“Oh, crap.”

“What?” Tamani said, instantly sober and alert, stepping in front of her.

“It's fine,” Laurel said, pushing him aside and gesturing to the car parked in front of her house. “Chelsea's here.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Tamani asked, confused. “I mean, I think she's awesome, don't you?”

“No, she is. But she notices everything and won't hesitate to
comment
,” she said meaningfully.

“Come here,” Tamani said, pulling her backward toward him. “I can fix this.”

Laurel stood still as Tamani smoothed her hair—detangling some knots that she couldn't see—until it laid flat again.

“Wow,” Laurel said, her hands running down her smooth tresses. “Where did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged. “It's just hair. Come on.” They walked, no longer hand in hand, back to the house.

Chelsea was sitting at the bar with a plate of pumpkin pie in front of her, spooning the whipped cream off the top first.

“There you are!” she said, turning as Laurel came in. “I've been waiting for you guys for half an hour. What on earth have you been doing?”

Laurel smiled awkwardly. “Hey, Chelsea,” she said, studiously ignoring the question.

“Sorry I didn't call,” Chelsea said, gawking rather openly at Tamani. “I just had to get away; my brothers are a nightmare. Is he staying?”

Laurel looked up at Tamani.

“I can go,” Tamani said. “I don't want to interrupt.”

“No, no, stay!” Chelsea said, clapping her hands together. “A chance to dig into you all by myself. I wouldn't miss this opportunity for anything!”

“Not sure I like the sound of that,” Tamani said slowly. “And we're not exactly alone.”

“Oh, Laurel hardly counts.”

“Thanks,” Laurel said wryly.

“Not like that. I mean without the looming bundles of testosterone. You understand.”

Sadly, Laurel did. “You really can go if you want,” she murmured to Tamani.

“I've got nowhere to be,” Tamani said, grinning.

“Don't say I didn't warn you. Mom, we're going upstairs.”

“Keep the door open,” her mom called reflexively.

“Yeah, 'cause
that's
going to be a problem,” Laurel muttered.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mrs. S.” Chelsea laughed, bounding up the stairs in front of Laurel.

As Chelsea peppered Tamani with questions about faerie longevity, garden mythology, and folk stories from around the world, Laurel's mind wandered. Wandered down to the football fields at the high school, specifically. Why couldn't she resist? Why couldn't she just be by herself for a while? Was she in love? Sometimes she was sure the answer was yes, but almost as often, she was sure the answer was no. Not while she still felt the way she did about David. She was starting to really miss him, even though she saw him almost every day. But if it wasn't love with Tamani, what was it? Not for the first time, Laurel wondered if she could be in love with them both. And, if she could, whether it mattered; it wasn't as though either of them was willing to share. Not that that seemed like any kind of an answer, either.

Pushing her dreary thoughts away, Laurel watched as Chelsea continued to grill Tamani with many of the same questions her father had asked, shaking her head as Tamani scrambled for answers thorough enough to please Chelsea.

“I give up!” Tamani said with a laugh, after about half an hour. “Your curiosity is insatiable and I find myself not equal to the task. Besides, the sun is setting and I have a cabin to visit, and before I leave, Laurel has promised to tell me about her research,” Tamani said, looking at Laurel, his eyes begging for a rescue.

“I do have things to show you,” Laurel said, making her way to her desk. Hoping Tamani wouldn't comment on the beaker of phosphorescent that she hadn't had the heart to touch in weeks, Laurel turned on her desk lamp and pulled forward several sparkling pots that appeared to be made of cut glass—but were actually solid diamond.

“I separated it into five samples. Hopefully it's enough.” She gestured at three of the dishes as Tamani and Chelsea peered over her shoulders. “You can see I've tried some different things with these. I mixed this one with purified water to make a paste that I've been touching and tasting—”

“Tasting? Are you sure that's a good idea?” Tamani asked. “It might be poisonous.”

“I checked for that first. Nothing poisonous in it.
That
, I can detect. Generally.” When she saw his look of alarm she rushed on. “Besides, I've been tasting it for three days and nothing has happened to me yet. I haven't even had a headache. Trust me—it's fine.”

Tamani nodded, but he didn't look entirely convinced.

“This one I've mixed with a carrier oil—that's a neutral oil that doesn't actually affect the mixture,” Laurel explained to Tamani and Chelsea's blank looks. “I used almond oil this time, to settle it into parts. I was able to discover two ingredients that way.”

“I didn't know you could do that,” Chelsea said, her breath close to Laurel's cheek.

“I am experimenting a bit,” Laurel admitted. “Breaking down a mixture into its individual ingredients is difficult. It requires me to figure out the potential of each component, then match the effects with the list of plants I know. Some are easy,” she said, feeling her confidence grow as she explained the processes she'd been going through. “Plants I work with regularly, for example, like fichus and stephanotis. But there are so many components in this stuff.”

“What are you doing with that one?” Chelsea asked, pointing to a dish cloudy with scorch marks.

“This one doesn't have any additives in it. I'm simply heating it over a flame and letting it cool and observing the kinds of residue it leaves. Sadly, it destroys the powder's effectiveness. But this is how I discovered the blueberry.”

“Blueberry?” Chelsea asked, then tilted her head to the side. “It
is
blue.”

“It's a mask. It's not doing anything in the mix. In fact, if there were much more, it would wreck the warding.”

“Then why put it in?” Tamani asked.

Laurel shrugged. “No idea. I've identified eleven components, and I know there are a couple more. But the main issue is that I still haven't identified the dominant ingredient. This powder is more than half some kind of flowering tree, and I can't figure out which one.”

“Like an apple tree?” Chelsea asked, but Laurel shook her head.

“More like a catalpa tree,” Laurel explained. “Flowers only—no fruit. But it's not quite that.” She pointed at a large stack of books beside her bed. “I've been going through those page by page trying to figure out what it is. The most maddening part is that I know I've worked with it before. I just can't remember.” She sighed and looked up at Tamani. “I'll keep trying,” she offered.

“I know you will,” Tamani said, laying one hand on her shoulder. “And you'll figure it out in the end.”

“I hope so,” Laurel said, turning away from him to look out the window. She shouldn't feel so disappointed with herself. She couldn't be expected to do what the master students at the Academy could. She hadn't even caught up with the acolytes yet, but she still kind of felt like she should have. She was the scion! She should have skills.

Guess I've been reading too much fantasy.

“Do you want me to bring you some more of the powder?” Tamani asked.

“Oh, no,” Laurel said quickly. “It's not worth the risk. Especially when I've got two samples I haven't even tried yet.”

“Let me know if you need it,” Tamani said softly. “I'll find a way.”

Laurel nodded, wishing they were alone. Not necessarily so she could do anything with him, but maybe just hug him good night without getting probing questions from Chelsea. But then, that might just lead to places she didn't want to go—had already gone once today.

“Well,” Tamani said, before the awkwardness could set in. “I'm off. Chelsea, lovely to see you today. Be safe.”

Chelsea nodded.

“And Laurel, I will see you . . . eventually.” He looked at her meaningfully for a long moment, then ducked out the bedroom door.

Chelsea waited only half a second before turning to Laurel with sparkling eyes. “That was so awesome!” she said, just shy of a squeal. “He's not David,” she added, “but he definitely has his own charm.”

* * *

Tamani swerved to the side of the road when he saw lights wink on at Yuki's house. He had caught her just as she was arriving home. With luck, Klea might still be with her. Tamani killed the engine and silenced his phone, moving noiselessly on foot—but not so sneakily that a neighbor seeing him might call the cops. As he approached, he could hear her through the open window—it sounded like she was on the phone.

“I'm trying,” Yuki said, the frustration evident in her voice. Tamani sucked in a breath and stilled, straining his ears. “I've
been
trying. But she can tell; I had to stop for a while.”

Tamani held his breath, trying to catch every word. She was obviously upset and probably talking much louder than she realized.

“I know the old man can do it. That's all I ever
hear
from you. But I can't, and he's not exactly here to teach me, is he?”

Tamani tensed. Who was “she”? Who was “the old man”?

There was a long silence and Yuki sighed. “I know. I know, I'm sorry,” she said, her voice small again. She said “yeah” several times and Tamani could tell the conversation was winding down. He took a couple of heavy steps and knocked on the door before she could catch him eavesdropping.

Yuki paused, then said, “I gotta go; Tam's here.”

Tamani craned his neck at the window. Had she seen him? But then, who else would be knocking on her door this evening? Still, it was more than a bit uncanny. By the time she answered the door, he had a friendly smile plastered on his face.

“Hey,” Yuki said, smiling winsomely. “I didn't know you were coming, did I?” She reflexively looked at her phone for some sign of a voice mail.

“No, I was just out driving and saw lights. I didn't think you'd be back yet.”

“Klea got called away on business. Again. She dropped me off early and I got mad and took a walk . . . anyway,” she said, thoroughly flustered now. “You want to come in?” Yuki asked, holding the door open.

“Why don't we sit on the porch?” Tamani asked. “The weather's great.” She was mad at something and already sloppy. Tamani had every intention of using that to his advantage. But there was something almost sultry in her eyes tonight and Tamani didn't want her using that to
her
advantage.

“If you want,” Yuki said after a hesitation that confirmed Tamani's suspicions. They sat on the steps of her porch, facing out at the street.

“What did you do for Thanksgiving?” Yuki asked.

Lie or truth?
“Nothing,” Tamani said with a grin. “It's not exactly something we celebrate in Scotland.”

“We have a sort of Thanksgiving in Japan,” Yuki said. “But
kinro kansha no hi
isn't celebrated in quite the same way. The break from school is nice, though.”

“You can say that again,” Tamani said, grinning now; glad they were on a subject he could be honest about. “Was that Klea on the phone when I walked up?”

“Yeah,” Yuki said, the bitterness back in her voice. “I'd rather not talk about it, though.”

“No worries,” Tamani said soothingly. Was she getting suspicious of him? Or was she just genuinely upset at Klea?

“Tam?”

“Yeah?”

She took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself for something truly painful. “Am I your girlfriend?” she blurted in a rush.

Tamani had to grit his teeth hard to keep the smile on his face. He tilted his head back and forth, as though considering. “I don't know,” he finally said. “I don't really like to put labels on things. I think they get complicated when you do that. I prefer to just see what happens.”

Yuki nodded. “Okay,” she said, clearly nervous. “I just, I wasn't sure and I thought . . . I needed to check.”

“You're welcome to check,” Tamani said, smiling broadly and leaning back, propping his arms up behind him, resting one on the cement step behind Yuki's back. He felt like he'd crossed an invisible line.

He steered the conversation toward neutral ground—easy enough, all he had to do was ask if she'd seen any good movies lately—and they chatted for about an hour. Tamani still marveled at how natural it was to be with Yuki most of the time. She was easygoing and even laughed at his dumb jokes. Under different circumstances they might have been friends, and it made him a little sad to know it was never to be—even if she was innocent, if she ever found out how much he'd lied and pretended, she would never speak to him again.