myself.”
“Well said!” Klea chirruped in a tone that made Tamani want to smash the phone. “But we both know you haven’t got one. You’re either stalling because you’re afraid to die – which is dreadfully unbecoming – or you think you’re going to miraculously get this information back to Avalon before I invade, which isn’t going to happen. So if you’d be so kind as to step out here where I can kill you—”
“What do you think you’re going to do?” Shar interrupted, and Tamani forced himself to focus on Shar’s words instead of the terrifying images running through his head of what was about to happen to his best friend. “Torture Laurel until she tells you where the gate is? She won’t. She’s stronger than you think.”
“What the hell do I need Laurel for? I know where the gate is. Yuki plucked that tidbit out of Laurel’s head almost a week ago.”
Startled, Laurel looked up, her eyes pools of shock, but comprehension dawned on her face as Tamani made his own connections. Those headaches . The terrible one after the troll attack – when her mind would have been vulnerable and possibly turned to Avalon. Yuki’s phone call from Klea, the glittering look in her eyes – that must have been Klea’s plan the whole time, her motivation for sending trolls after them that night. And in addition to the smaller ones, Laurel had mentioned another massive headache in front of her locker, the last day of school – had even voiced concerns that Yuki might be the cause. But Tamani had dismissed it because they were about to capture her anyway. No wonder Klea had been so furious when Yuki insisted on staying for the dance – she’d completed her mission. She really had stayed out of misguided affection for Tamani.
Tamani closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply, evenly. Now was not the time to lose control.
“Then I just have one last request.” Tamani’s eyes flew open. There was something in Shar’s voice he didn’t like. An edge.
“Tell Ari and Len I love them,” Shar said, coming through with increased clarity despite the quaver in his voice. “More than anything.”
Icy fear filled Tamani’s chest. “No.” The barely audible plea slipped through Tamani’s lips.
“That’s very sweet, but I’m not running a messaging service, Shar.”
“I know, it’s just . . . ironic.”
“Ironic? I don’t see how.”
An incredible clattering sounded in the background, like a hundred crystal goblets shattering against the floor, and Laurel clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Let’s ask Tamani,” Shar said, and Tamani’s head jerked up at the sound of his own name. “He’s the language expert. Tamani, isn’t this what humans call irony? Because I never expected my last minutes in life would be spent figuring out how to use this damned phone.”
“No!” Tamani yelled. “Shar!” He gripped the phone, helpless. The unmistakable blast of gunfire filled his ears and his stomach lurched as he slumped to his knees. Four shots. Five. Seven. Nine. Then silence as the phone went dead.
“Tam?” Laurel’s voice was barely a whisper, her hands reaching for him.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but kneel silently, his hand wrapped around his phone, his eyes begging the screen to light again, for Shar’s name to pop back up on the display, for his biting laugh to sound through the speakers as he tried to convince Tamani that the joke had actually been funny.
But he knew it wasn’t going to happen.
Despite his shaking hands, Tamani managed to slide the phone back into his pocket as he stood. “It’s time,” he said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” Laurel said. She looked as shaky as Tamani felt. “Go where?”
Yes, where? When they were hunting trolls, Shar had lectured him about sticking to his role as Laurel’s Fear-gleidhidh . Should he take Laurel and run away? His head spun as he tried
“Well said!” Klea chirruped in a tone that made Tamani want to smash the phone. “But we both know you haven’t got one. You’re either stalling because you’re afraid to die – which is dreadfully unbecoming – or you think you’re going to miraculously get this information back to Avalon before I invade, which isn’t going to happen. So if you’d be so kind as to step out here where I can kill you—”
“What do you think you’re going to do?” Shar interrupted, and Tamani forced himself to focus on Shar’s words instead of the terrifying images running through his head of what was about to happen to his best friend. “Torture Laurel until she tells you where the gate is? She won’t. She’s stronger than you think.”
“What the hell do I need Laurel for? I know where the gate is. Yuki plucked that tidbit out of Laurel’s head almost a week ago.”
Startled, Laurel looked up, her eyes pools of shock, but comprehension dawned on her face as Tamani made his own connections. Those headaches . The terrible one after the troll attack – when her mind would have been vulnerable and possibly turned to Avalon. Yuki’s phone call from Klea, the glittering look in her eyes – that must have been Klea’s plan the whole time, her motivation for sending trolls after them that night. And in addition to the smaller ones, Laurel had mentioned another massive headache in front of her locker, the last day of school – had even voiced concerns that Yuki might be the cause. But Tamani had dismissed it because they were about to capture her anyway. No wonder Klea had been so furious when Yuki insisted on staying for the dance – she’d completed her mission. She really had stayed out of misguided affection for Tamani.
Tamani closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply, evenly. Now was not the time to lose control.
“Then I just have one last request.” Tamani’s eyes flew open. There was something in Shar’s voice he didn’t like. An edge.
“Tell Ari and Len I love them,” Shar said, coming through with increased clarity despite the quaver in his voice. “More than anything.”
Icy fear filled Tamani’s chest. “No.” The barely audible plea slipped through Tamani’s lips.
“That’s very sweet, but I’m not running a messaging service, Shar.”
“I know, it’s just . . . ironic.”
“Ironic? I don’t see how.”
An incredible clattering sounded in the background, like a hundred crystal goblets shattering against the floor, and Laurel clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Let’s ask Tamani,” Shar said, and Tamani’s head jerked up at the sound of his own name. “He’s the language expert. Tamani, isn’t this what humans call irony? Because I never expected my last minutes in life would be spent figuring out how to use this damned phone.”
“No!” Tamani yelled. “Shar!” He gripped the phone, helpless. The unmistakable blast of gunfire filled his ears and his stomach lurched as he slumped to his knees. Four shots. Five. Seven. Nine. Then silence as the phone went dead.
“Tam?” Laurel’s voice was barely a whisper, her hands reaching for him.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but kneel silently, his hand wrapped around his phone, his eyes begging the screen to light again, for Shar’s name to pop back up on the display, for his biting laugh to sound through the speakers as he tried to convince Tamani that the joke had actually been funny.
But he knew it wasn’t going to happen.
Despite his shaking hands, Tamani managed to slide the phone back into his pocket as he stood. “It’s time,” he said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” Laurel said. She looked as shaky as Tamani felt. “Go where?”
Yes, where? When they were hunting trolls, Shar had lectured him about sticking to his role as Laurel’s Fear-gleidhidh . Should he take Laurel and run away? His head spun as he tried
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