They sat as Klea pulled a manila envelope out of her bag and slipped her mirrored sunglasses down from her head to cover her eyes. The camp was brightly lit, but Laurel found the gesture weirdly melodramatic. Klea riffled through the contents of the envelope, removing a glossy photograph that she slid over toward Laurel. “What do you know about this man?” she asked.

Laurel looked down at the snarling face of Jeremiah Barnes.

SIXTEEN

SUPPRESSING A SHUDDER, LAUREL STARED IN SHOCK at the face that had haunted her nightmares for almost a year. Her hand, wrapped around David’s, convulsed into a tight grip.

“I’ve spent several years looking for him…” Klea said. “Well, him and others like him. But the last time we caught up with him—a couple months back—he had a business card in his pocket with some names on it.” She looked up at Laurel. “One of them was yours.”

Laurel’s hands started to shake at the thought of Barnes carrying her name around with him. “And you just took down my name and sent him on his merry way?” Laurel kept her voice low, but there was a hefty dose of hiss in it.

“Not…exactly.” Klea’s eyes flitted back and forth before she leaned forward, sliding the picture back into its envelope. “He…was stronger than we expected. He escaped.”

Laurel nodded slowly, struggling to keep her trembling to a minimum. Despite what Jamison had said, Laurel held on to a tiny hope that Barnes really had died after getting shot last year. But this was proof—undeniable proof—that he was still around. And hunting her.

“You don’t seem surprised. So you do know him?”

Lie, lie, lie! her mind was shouting. But what good would that do? She’d tipped her hand the moment she recognized Barnes. It was too late to deny everything. “Sort of. I had a run-in with him last year.”

“Not many people walk away from run-ins with this guy.” Klea’s tone was flat, but the implied question was painfully obvious. Why are you still breathing?

Laurel’s thoughts immediately centered on Tamani, and she almost smiled. She forced herself to look down at a spot on the table. “I just got lucky,” she said. “He put his gun down at the wrong time.”

“I see.” Klea was nodding now, almost sagely. “Cold steel is about the only thing this man fears. What did he want with you?”

Laurel stared up into Klea’s reflective shades, wishing she could see the woman’s eyes. She had to come up with something—anything—to conceal the truth.

“You can tell her,” David said after a long pause.

Laurel shot him a glare.

“I mean, they sold it already; no one can take it from you.” What was he talking about? His hand squeezed her thigh meaningfully, but cover stories were David’s thing—Laurel was no good at lying. The best she could do was play along. She covered her face with her hands and leaned against David’s chest, pretending to be too distraught to talk.

“Her parents found this diamond when they were…renovating their house,” David explained.

Laurel hoped Klea didn’t catch the tiny pause.

“A huge one. This guy tried to kidnap her, for ransom or something.” David stroked her shoulder and patted her back. “It was a very traumatic experience,” he assured Klea.

David, you are brilliant.

Klea was nodding slowly. “Makes sense. Trolls have always been treasure hunters. By their very nature, and because they need money to blend into our world.”

“Trolls?” David asked, propping up their charade. “Like, live-under-bridges, turn-to-stone-in-sunlight trolls? Is that what those creatures were?”

“Did I say trolls?” Klea asked, her eyebrows arching comically over the rims of her sunglasses. “Oops. Well”—she sighed, shaking her head—“I guess once you’ve seen them, you may as well know what they really are.” She looked at Laurel, who was sitting back up again, wiping away pretend tears. “It’s a good thing your parents sold the diamond. At least Barnes probably won’t be hunting them. However,” she said, “you seem to have found a permanent spot on his radar. There’s no way those trolls were at your party tonight by chance.” She paused. “I don’t believe in coincidences that big.”

“What would he want with me now?” Laurel asked, exchanging a quick glance with David. “The diamond is gone.”

“Revenge,” Klea answered simply. She turned her face to Laurel, and Laurel could feel the intensity of Klea’s gaze even through the sunglasses. “It’s pretty much the only thing trolls love more than treasure.”

Laurel recalled Jamison saying almost the same thing on her last day in Avalon. It seemed rather absurd to find truth in this bed of lies.

Klea reached back into her bag, removed a small gray card, and held it out to Laurel, who took it tentatively. “I belong to an organization that…tracks…supernatural beings. Trolls, mostly, because they’re the only ones that work to infiltrate human society. Most of the others avoid it at all costs. This here is my team, but our organization is international.” She leaned forward. “I believe you are in great danger, Laurel. We’d like to offer our assistance.”

“In exchange for what?” Laurel asked, still suspicious.

A hint of a smile played at Klea’s lips. “Barnes escaped me once, Laurel. He’s not the only one with a score to settle.”