I drew out a dark chocolate bar, held it up above my head, and waved it back and forth. The troll’s black nose twitched, and its green eyes brightened in appreciation and anticipation.
Monsters might have more teeth and talons than mortals or magicks, but it was easy enough to deal with the creatures—most of the time. You just had to know how to bribe them. Oftentimes, a drop of blood or a lock of hair was enough to get you safe passage through a monster’s territory. Some monsters, like the lochness that Felix had mentioned, required quarters and other shiny coins, but tree trolls required immediate gratification.
Dark chocolate, and lots of it.
“C’mon,” I crooned. “You know you want it. I’m just paying the toll for climbing your tree and invading your personal space—”
The troll scrambled down, snatched the chocolate bar, and returned to its previous branch, its lightning-quick movements almost too fast for me to follow.
Zip-zip-zip.
Its black claws made quick work of the wrapper, and the troll sank its needle-sharp teeth into the chocolate. More little cheep-cheeps sounded, but this time, they were squeaks of pleasure.
I waited until the troll had downed another bite before starting my spiel, such as it was. “Listen, little furry dude. I’m not here to make trouble. But you know how it is. You start acting out and throwing stuff at tourists, then the Sinclair Family is going to make you move on. You know that. So what’s got you so upset?”
The troll chomped down on another piece of chocolate, staring at me all the while, green eyes locking with mine. Once again, its anger and worry punched me in the heart, mixed in with a bit of warm happiness brought on by eating the chocolate. Nothing strange there. Chocolate made me happy, too.
But the longer I stared at the troll, the brighter and greener its eyes became, until they were practically glowing like stars in its furry face. It almost seemed as if the creature had the same soulsight that I did and was peering into me the same way I was into it. Judging whether or not I was trustworthy. So I focused on remaining calm and trying to look as nonthreatening as possible.
Maybe it was a trick of the sunlight streaming down through the leaves, but I swear that I felt something . . . shift inside me. As if I were somehow calming down the troll just by staring at it and thinking good thoughts. Despite the hot summer day, a chill swept over me, cold enough to raise goose bumps on my arms.
I shivered and blinked, breaking the strange spell. The troll was just a troll again, and everything was normal. No glowing eyes, no odd emotions in my chest, no more cold chills. Weird. Even for me.
The troll cheeped again, then reached up and pushed back a branch beside its head, revealing a large nest.
Twigs, leaves, and grasses had been braided together in a crook of the tree, along with several candy bar wrappers. Looked like this particular troll really loved its chocolate. I scooted up higher on my branch so that my head was level with the nest. A moment later, another tree troll—a female given her dark gray fur—popped her head up out of the nest, along with a much smaller, fuzzier head. A pair of small, innocent green eyes stared back at me. The male tree troll handed the rest of the candy bar to the female, and she and the baby vanished back down into the bottom of the nest, out of my line of sight.
So the monster was watching out for his family, which was the reason for all the fruit bombs. No doubt the creature saw everyone who approached the tree as a potential threat. Well, I couldn’t blame him for that. Not in this town. I might be a thief, but I knew what it was like to try to protect your Family—mob or otherwise.
And to fail miserably.
The old, familiar, soul-crushing grief twisted my chest, but I shoved the emotion down into the bottom of my heart where it belonged.
“All right,” I said. “You can stay here until your baby is big enough to travel. If you’re looking for someplace a little quieter, there are some nice, tall trees over by the lochness bridge. You should scout them out.”
The tree troll cheeped at me again. I hoped that meant he understood me.
I pointed at him. “But no more throwing fruit at the tourists, okay? You leave them alone, and they’ll leave you alone. Capisce?”
The troll cheeped at me a final time, which I was going to take for a yes.
I unhooked my legs from around the branch and started climbing down. The troll watched me all the while, jumping from one branch to the next, following me down the tree, but he didn’t throw any blood persimmons. More progress. Maybe I really was a monster whisperer after all. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
When I was about ten feet off the ground, I sat down on a branch, flipped over, and let go. I plummeted through the air, letting out a happy laugh at the rush of the wind through my hair, before landing in a low crouch. I made a gallant flourish with my hand to add to my dramatic descent, then got to my feet.
Felix grinned. “Show-off.”
I grinned back. “I do try.”
Devon craned his neck back, trying to see the troll. “So what did he do?”
“He’s got a family up there, so he’s not going anywhere,” I said. “I told him to stop throwing fruit at the tourists, and he seemed to agree. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Devon nodded. “Thanks, Lila. Good job.”
His face crinkled into a smile. I looked away from his green gaze before my soulsight kicked in, but the warm rush in my heart had nothing to do with my magic. It was just Devon being Devon, and how hopelessly into him I was, despite my need to keep my distance.
Devon sensed the change in my mood, and his grin dropped from his face. I felt like I’d reached up and snuffed out the sun with my bare fingers, and more than a little guilt curled up in my stomach. He really was a good guy, and I kept pushing him away, hurting him without even meaning to.