Laurel and David just stood there, slack-jawed.

Chelsea looked back and forth between them in confusion. “Oh, please,” she finally said. “Did you honestly think I didn’t know?”

TWENTY-SIX

KLEA ROWED THEM ACROSS THE WATER IN A WIDE, flat-bottomed boat. “My guys are going to take care of everything here at the lighthouse,” she said. “You two take your friend back to her car, then get yourselves home.”

They lurched to a stop on the beach and a tiny grunt of pain escaped David’s lips. The three friends unloaded and each girl took one of David’s arms, trying to help him walk without letting Klea know just how hurt he was. Though Klea had saved their lives, they had agreed that she should know as little as possible about Laurel. That meant getting David away quickly so that Laurel could take care of him without anyone observing.

“Laurel,” Klea called.

“Keep walking,” Laurel whispered to David and Chelsea. “I’ll be right there.” Then she turned and walked back to Klea.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“You got here right on time,” Laurel replied.

“Still, if I had been two minutes later.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m glad I had some of my guys watching you tonight. I wish—” She paused, shaking her head. “I wish you had called me. Anyway,” she continued before Laurel could respond, “how did you dispatch those other four trolls? I was amazed.”

Laurel hesitated.

“I looked at those trolls. There are no broken bones, no gunshots, no wounds whatsoever. Out like lights, and I don’t expect them to wake up for hours yet. Are you going to tell me what really happened?”

Laurel pressed her lips shut as she searched for a lie. But she came up blank. She was too tired to think of anything good. But she wasn’t going to tell Klea the truth, either, so she said nothing.

“Fine,” Klea said with a strange smile. “I get it, you have your secrets. You obviously don’t trust me yet,” she said, her voice soft. “But I hope one day you will. Really trust me. You’re clearly not helpless, but I could help you so much—more than you know. Regardless,” she said, turning her gaze back toward the lighthouse, “having actual specimens will be helpful. Very helpful.”

Laurel didn’t like the way Klea said specimens. But she remained silent.

Klea studied her for several long seconds. “I’ll be in touch,” she said firmly. “You’ve proven resourceful and I could really use your assistance in another, unrelated matter—but it can wait a bit.” Before Laurel could respond, Klea spun on her heel and leaped lightly back into the boat, gripping the pole with strong hands.

Laurel stayed just long enough to watch Klea push off the sandy beach before turning and running to catch up with David and Chelsea. They had reached David’s car by the time Laurel joined them. David groaned as he slipped into the passenger seat and Chelsea gripped Laurel’s arm. “We have to get him to the hospital. His ribs have got to be broken and that cut under his eye might need stitches.”

“We can’t go to the hospital,” Laurel said, digging in her backpack.

“Laurel!” Chelsea said, her face white. “David needs help!”

“Relax,” Laurel said, unwrapping a tiny bottle of blue liquid. “Being friends with a faerie has its perks.” She loved being able to say that in front of Chelsea. She unscrewed the top of the bottle and lifted out the dropper, then leaned over David, who was breathing loud, labored breaths. “Open,” she said softly.

David opened one eye and looked at the familiar bottle. “Oh, man,” he said. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all night.” He opened his mouth and Laurel squeezed two drops in.

“Now hold still,” she said, letting one drop fall onto her finger. She gently rubbed it against the gash on his face. “All better,” she whispered as she watched his skin knit back together.

She stood and turned to Chelsea. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Chelsea shook her head. “He was pretty nice to me, considering…” But her eyes were focused on David. “Wait a second.” She leaned over and studied the skin under his eye. “I could have sworn…”

Laurel laughed, and even David joined in quietly. “In a few minutes his ribs and hand will heal too.”

“Are you kidding me?” Chelsea asked with wild, excited eyes.

It reminded Laurel of the way David had reacted when he first found out she was a faerie. She grinned and held up the blue bottle. “It’s useful—David gets beat up by trolls on a regular basis.”

David snorted.

“Why don’t you fix your hand?” Chelsea asked.

Laurel looked down at the burns on her fingers and wondered how she had ever thought she could hide anything from Chelsea. It was hard to tell she was hurt because, unlike humans, her skin didn’t turn red when it burned. The color hadn’t changed at all, actually. But tiny bubbles—blisters, she corrected herself—had formed on her palm and trailed down two of her fingers. She stared at her aching hand in wonder. She’d never had a blister before.

Well, not that she could remember.

“It’s only for humans,” she said softly. “I’d need something else.” She hesitated for a moment. “Hey, Chelsea,” she said slowly.

Chelsea and David both looked up at the serious tone in her voice.