David sighed. “I just hate feeling so powerless. It’s one thing to take my own life in my hands”—he chuckled ironically—“I’m a crazy teenager; we do that kind of stuff all the time.” He sobered and was silent for a few moments. “But it’s something else completely to have you in danger, and Chelsea, and Ryan, and all the other kids at the party. Things got really real tonight, Laurel. I was scared.” He laughed. “No, I was terrified.”

Laurel looked down at her lap and twisted the tail of her shirt with her fingers. “I’m sorry I got you involved,” she mumbled.

“It’s not that. I love that you got me involved.” He took both of her hands and held them until she looked up at him. “I love being a part of your world. And despite almost dying last year, that was the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me.” He laughed. “With the possible exception of tonight.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each one. “I love what you are and I love you.”

Laurel smiled weakly.

“I just think we need help.”

“We have help,” Laurel insisted. “I’ve had faerie sentries watching my house for six months.”

“But where were they tonight?” David asked, the volume of his voice rising. “They weren’t there. Klea was there. Like it or not, she saved us and I think that earns her some trust.”

“So you want me to drive back and tell her everything? Tell her I’m a faerie and the real reason Barnes was after me?” Laurel asked hotly.

David took her hands and pressed them together between his. It was something he always did to help her calm down. She focused on their joined hands and took several long breaths. “Of course not,” David said softly. “There’s no reason for her to know anything more than she knows now. I just think you should trust her enough to accept some assistance. Not guards,” he said, before Laurel could protest, “but if she wants to keep an eye on us when we’re not at your house, is that such a bad thing?”

“I guess not,” Laurel mumbled.

“We put a lot of people in danger tonight, Laurel. Now, I know we’re going to be more careful in the future, but in case something like this happens again, don’t you want”—he lifted the gun, which was looking all too safe tucked into its holster—“another line of defense?”

“But is this really the best way? She just armed two minors, David. Do you have any idea how illegal that is?”

“But it’s for our own good! The law wouldn’t understand any of this. We have to take matters into our own hands.” He paused. “You weren’t worried about the law when Tamani killed those trolls last year.”

Laurel was silent for a long time. Then she straightened up and looked him in the face. “Have you ever shot someone, David?”

“Of course not.”

“Ever pointed a gun at someone?”

He shook his head.

“Watched someone get shot?”

He shook his head soberly now, and very slowly.

“I’ve done all three,” Laurel said, thumping her fingers hard against her chest. “After we escaped from Barnes, I had nightmares almost every night. I still have nightmares sometimes.”

“I do too, Laurel. It scared the hell out me.”

“Barnes scared the hell out of you, David. You know what scares me in my nightmares? Me. I scared the hell out of myself. Because I picked up that gun and I shot someone.”

“You had to.”

“Do you think that matters? I don’t care why I did it. The fact is that I did. And you never forget that feeling. That moment when the gun kicks back in your hand and you see blood appear on the person across from you. You never forget it, David. So excuse me if I don’t share your excitement at having another one forced on me.”

David was silent for a long time. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I didn’t think.” He paused, then let out a frustrated sigh. “But you don’t really understand, either. You have faerie sentries and potions. I don’t have anything. Can you at least see why I feel more comfortable having come kind of defense?”

“A gun makes you feel big and powerful, does it?” Laurel shot off.

“No! It doesn’t make me feel powerful or more like a man, or whatever other stupid things people say in the movies. But it makes me feel like I’m doing something. Like I’m helping in some way. Is that so hard to understand?”

Laurel started to speak, then closed her mouth. He was right. “I guess not,” she mumbled.

“Besides,” David said with a tentative grin, “you know what a technology whore I am. Microscopes, computers, guns—I love them all.”

It took a few seconds, but she smiled back wanly. “That certainly is true. I remember you turning all CSI Lawson on me when I bloomed last year.” They both laughed—and though Laurel didn’t feel completely comfortable, at least she felt a little better.

SEVENTEEN

THEY PULLED INTO LAUREL’S DRIVEWAY AND, after a moment’s hesitation, threw open their doors and ran for the house. As soon as they were inside, Laurel turned and pushed the door shut—a little too hard—and the slam echoed through the dark house.

“Laurel?”

David and Laurel both jumped, their eyes turning toward the railing where Laurel’s mom peered down at them with sleepy eyes.