“Is everything okay? You slammed the door.”
“Sorry, Mom. It was an accident. We didn’t mean to wake you.”
She waved their concern aside. “I was up. Some animals have been fighting behind the house, dogs or something. Every time I drift off to sleep, it starts over again. I came down and made myself a cup of tea and things are quiet again. Hopefully for good this time.”
David and Laurel exchanged glances. She doubted very much that there were any dogs fighting behind her house.
“Did you have fun?”
“What?” Laurel asked, confused.
“The party. Was it fun?”
Laurel had almost forgotten. “Yeah,” she said, with forced cheerfulness. “It was awesome. Ryan’s house is totally gorgeous. And huge,” she added, hoping she didn’t sound too off. “You can go back to bed,” she said quickly. “David and I are going to watch a movie now. Is that okay?”
“I guess,” she said with a yawn. “Keep it down though, all right?”
“Yeah, sure,” Laurel said, pulling David toward the rec room.
“Dog fight?” David asked skeptically after they heard her mom’s door click shut.
“I know,” Laurel said, her voice worried. “The trolls have been busy tonight.” She peeked out through the blinds, peering into the darkness. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see anything, but she tried anyway. Guilt surged through her. She didn’t even want to consider the number of both humans and faeries she had put in danger tonight.
David came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
He looked at his hands at her sides, then pulled them away and crossed them over his chest, his face confused.
“No, no,” she said soothingly, “it’s not you, it’s my blossom.” She groaned. “It hurts so much.” Now that the stress of the night was really over, the jabbing pain in her back was all she could think about. She fumbled with the knot on her sash, trying to get it undone, but her hands kept shaking. Tears built up in her eyes as she yanked on the sash, wanting nothing more than to get her injured petals free.
“Let me,” David said softly.
She gave up and stood still while David’s soft fingers worked out her hurried knots. He unwound the sash, pushed her shirt up in the back a little, and helped smooth her petals upward. Laurel clenched her teeth and sucked in a quick breath. It was almost as bad letting them loose as binding them down. Laurel pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes as she forced herself not to whimper. “Do you see any damage?” she asked.
David didn’t answer. She turned to look at him. His face wore an expression of pained horror.
“What?” Laurel asked, her voice a whisper.
“It looks like he got a fistful of petals. Tore them straight out. There’s just some ragged edges.”
Laurel’s eyes widened and she looked over her left shoulder, where the familiar light blue petals should have been floating. Over her right shoulder her blossom was intact, but on the left side, nothing remained. The enormous petals were just…gone. A strange but overwhelming sense of loss crashed over Laurel. Tears streaked her face almost before she knew she was sobbing. She turned and buried her face in David’s shirt and let all the despair, terror, and pain of the night finally rise to the surface.
He gently wrapped his arms around her back, carefully spaced so he didn’t touch her blossom. His chest was warm, chasing away the chill of fear and the cold weather alike, and his cheek brushed her forehead, gritty after a few days of not shaving. There was no place in the world she would rather have been at that moment.
“Come here,” he whispered, pulling her toward the couch. He lay on his side and she snuggled against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. Only when Laurel was breathing smoothly again did he speak. “Quite a night, eh?”
She groaned. “I’ll say.”
“So what do we do?”
Laurel grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave.”
“Of course not,” David said, pulling her closer.
“Everything will be fine when the sun comes up,” Laurel said, half trying to convince herself.
“Then I’ll stay all night,” David replied. “My mom will understand. I’ll just tell her we fell asleep watching a movie.”
Laurel yawned. “Wouldn’t be very far from the truth. I’m exhausted.”
“Besides, I’m not ashamed to admit I really don’t want to go back out there tonight.”
“Pansy,” Laurel said, giggling at her lame plant joke for a few seconds before a large yawn overcame her. David could never really understand how hard it was to be awake and active this late at night. She felt like a sieve, constantly being drained of energy without anything to fill her back up. At this point she was running on sheer willpower.
“Go to sleep,” David said soothingly, his hands warm on her shoulders. “I’ll be right here,” he promised.
Laurel snuggled into his chest and let herself relax. In spite of the pain and her lingering fear, sleep came quickly. But with it came dreams of trolls with knives, and humans with guns, and Jeremiah Barnes.
Laurel woke with the sun and tried not to disturb David, but he was a very light sleeper. He opened his eyes, looked at her, and closed them again. A few seconds later they popped open again.
“Sorry, Mom. It was an accident. We didn’t mean to wake you.”
She waved their concern aside. “I was up. Some animals have been fighting behind the house, dogs or something. Every time I drift off to sleep, it starts over again. I came down and made myself a cup of tea and things are quiet again. Hopefully for good this time.”
David and Laurel exchanged glances. She doubted very much that there were any dogs fighting behind her house.
“Did you have fun?”
“What?” Laurel asked, confused.
“The party. Was it fun?”
Laurel had almost forgotten. “Yeah,” she said, with forced cheerfulness. “It was awesome. Ryan’s house is totally gorgeous. And huge,” she added, hoping she didn’t sound too off. “You can go back to bed,” she said quickly. “David and I are going to watch a movie now. Is that okay?”
“I guess,” she said with a yawn. “Keep it down though, all right?”
“Yeah, sure,” Laurel said, pulling David toward the rec room.
“Dog fight?” David asked skeptically after they heard her mom’s door click shut.
“I know,” Laurel said, her voice worried. “The trolls have been busy tonight.” She peeked out through the blinds, peering into the darkness. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see anything, but she tried anyway. Guilt surged through her. She didn’t even want to consider the number of both humans and faeries she had put in danger tonight.
David came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
He looked at his hands at her sides, then pulled them away and crossed them over his chest, his face confused.
“No, no,” she said soothingly, “it’s not you, it’s my blossom.” She groaned. “It hurts so much.” Now that the stress of the night was really over, the jabbing pain in her back was all she could think about. She fumbled with the knot on her sash, trying to get it undone, but her hands kept shaking. Tears built up in her eyes as she yanked on the sash, wanting nothing more than to get her injured petals free.
“Let me,” David said softly.
She gave up and stood still while David’s soft fingers worked out her hurried knots. He unwound the sash, pushed her shirt up in the back a little, and helped smooth her petals upward. Laurel clenched her teeth and sucked in a quick breath. It was almost as bad letting them loose as binding them down. Laurel pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes as she forced herself not to whimper. “Do you see any damage?” she asked.
David didn’t answer. She turned to look at him. His face wore an expression of pained horror.
“What?” Laurel asked, her voice a whisper.
“It looks like he got a fistful of petals. Tore them straight out. There’s just some ragged edges.”
Laurel’s eyes widened and she looked over her left shoulder, where the familiar light blue petals should have been floating. Over her right shoulder her blossom was intact, but on the left side, nothing remained. The enormous petals were just…gone. A strange but overwhelming sense of loss crashed over Laurel. Tears streaked her face almost before she knew she was sobbing. She turned and buried her face in David’s shirt and let all the despair, terror, and pain of the night finally rise to the surface.
He gently wrapped his arms around her back, carefully spaced so he didn’t touch her blossom. His chest was warm, chasing away the chill of fear and the cold weather alike, and his cheek brushed her forehead, gritty after a few days of not shaving. There was no place in the world she would rather have been at that moment.
“Come here,” he whispered, pulling her toward the couch. He lay on his side and she snuggled against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. Only when Laurel was breathing smoothly again did he speak. “Quite a night, eh?”
She groaned. “I’ll say.”
“So what do we do?”
Laurel grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave.”
“Of course not,” David said, pulling her closer.
“Everything will be fine when the sun comes up,” Laurel said, half trying to convince herself.
“Then I’ll stay all night,” David replied. “My mom will understand. I’ll just tell her we fell asleep watching a movie.”
Laurel yawned. “Wouldn’t be very far from the truth. I’m exhausted.”
“Besides, I’m not ashamed to admit I really don’t want to go back out there tonight.”
“Pansy,” Laurel said, giggling at her lame plant joke for a few seconds before a large yawn overcame her. David could never really understand how hard it was to be awake and active this late at night. She felt like a sieve, constantly being drained of energy without anything to fill her back up. At this point she was running on sheer willpower.
“Go to sleep,” David said soothingly, his hands warm on her shoulders. “I’ll be right here,” he promised.
Laurel snuggled into his chest and let herself relax. In spite of the pain and her lingering fear, sleep came quickly. But with it came dreams of trolls with knives, and humans with guns, and Jeremiah Barnes.
Laurel woke with the sun and tried not to disturb David, but he was a very light sleeper. He opened his eyes, looked at her, and closed them again. A few seconds later they popped open again.
