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.”