She had only seconds to make her decision. Klea would want to see the unconscious troll—maybe kill it. But bright red lines streaked across the troll’s face where the serum had splashed and burned him; Klea would know Laurel or David had done something. And if Klea knew anything about Laurel at all, it would just make things worse. Laurel couldn’t alert Klea to the troll’s presence without also exposing her faerie potion. Trembling, Laurel stood, continued down the hill, and didn’t look back, wondering how long the serum would last. The sooner they were out of there, the better.

David’s car sat right where they had abandoned it, front tire wedged into the mud, with its headlights shining into the dark night and the passenger doors wide open.

“It’s pretty mired,” Klea said, her eyes lifting only briefly to acknowledge Laurel’s return, “but I think you and I can push it out, David.” She reached out and punched his arm lightly. “You look like a strong guy.”

David cleared his throat like he was going to say something, but nothing came out.

“Laurel, would you steer?” Klea asked as she pushed up the sleeves of her shirt.

After slipping into the driver’s seat, Laurel watched as David followed Klea to the hood of the car and they braced their hands against the bumper. She still wasn’t sure what to think. Five minutes ago she had thought her life was over—and, without Klea, she had no doubt it would have been. So really, what were they supposed to do? Leave the woman who had saved their lives stranded on the side of the road just because she knew Laurel’s name somehow? There was nothing to do but take her wherever it was she wanted to go. Once the car was out, anyway. But it was all too weird. Laurel wished she had more time to process the situation.

Laurel cranked the wheel as David and Klea pushed. After a few tries, the Civic slowly came loose and Laurel backed it up onto the road. After putting on the parking brake, she joined them as they stood studying the car, looking for damage. Or, more precisely, Klea studied the car while David stared at Klea.

“It could definitely use a good wash,” Klea said, “but it looks like you’re not going to have any souvenirs.”

“All the better,” Laurel said.

“So,” Klea said, stepping out of the glare of the headlights, “shall we go?”

David and Laurel exchanged looks, and Laurel gave him a nod. There was no way to silently indicate that there was an unconscious troll not fifty feet away.

They loaded into the car, David hurrying to open their doors for them as if it were just another night, and they were off. It took a short, silent argument with David, but Laurel remained at the wheel.

Klea directed her as they drove along. “It’s only about a mile or so,” she said. “We move our camp constantly. The only reason I’m letting you guys see it tonight is that it will be somewhere else tomorrow.”

“What kind of camp?” David asked.

“You’ll see,” Klea said. “Turn right here.”

“I don’t see a road,” Laurel said.

“You’re not meant to. Start turning, and you’ll see it.”

With a stoic nod Laurel began edging the Civic to the right. Just behind a large clump of bushes she spotted a hint of a road. She eased onto it and drove through a thin curtain of branches that scraped at the doors and windows. But as soon as she had passed through that, she found the Civic on two parallel tracks, obviously recently cut.

“Cool,” David said, leaning forward in his seat.

For about a minute they traveled silently up the dark, narrow road, Laurel becoming more and more certain that they were driving into a trap. If only she hadn’t forgotten her backpack! Then the road turned sharply to the right, revealing three camping trailers in a well-lit circle. In front of two of the campers sat two black trucks that would have been at home in a monster truck arena. Their deeply tinted windows reflected the glare from several bright floodlights, mounted on tall poles, that filled the camp with a stark, white light. Smaller lamps hung over each of the entrances to the trailers. Just outside of the light two brown horses were tethered to a stake and several swords and large guns were laid out on an aluminum picnic table. The sinking pit in Laurel’s stomach told her that she and David had just gotten in over their heads.

“Whoa,” David said.

“There’s no place like home,” Klea said wryly. “Welcome to camp.”

They all got out of the car and walked toward the camp—Klea purposefully and Laurel and David more tentatively. A handful of people buzzed around, completing various tasks with hardly a glance at Laurel and David. Like Klea, they wore mostly black.

“Laurel, David, this is my team,” Klea said, gesturing to the people meandering about. “We’re a small lot, but we work hard.”

David took a step toward a low, white tent that glowed from within, as though a dozen lanterns were burning inside. “What do you have in there?” he asked, craning his neck as a man slipped in, releasing a bright beam of light over the entire area for just a moment before the flap fell shut.

“As they say, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Klea said with just a touch more seriousness than Laurel was comfortable with. Klea paused beside one of the black trucks and reached into the bed to grab a khaki-colored shoulder bag. “Come on over here,” she said, gesturing to a picnic table set up near the center of camp.

Laurel gripped David’s hand as they followed Klea to the table. Now that they were there, they might as well get what answers they could. There was no way they could make a break for it. Laurel wasn’t sure whether she was now in more or less danger than when the trolls were chasing them.