“Real enough,” said Adrian.
“You’re in a spirit dream,” I explained.
Marcus looked disbelieving for a moment, and then wonder filled his eyes. “Wow.” He glanced around. “Where are we?”
“Malibu,” I said, earning more surprise. “Where are you? Mexico?”
He dragged his gaze from the buildings around us. “Yeah, but we’re heading back soon. Amelia and Wade got their tattoos, and I got a tip about some rebels who need me in Arizona. We’re just waiting on a guy who’s going to help us get over the border. Always a lot harder getting back in.”
Marcus was on the Alchemists’ most-wanted list. Any Alchemist who slipped out of their grasp was bad enough, let alone one actively recruiting others. With their many connections, he had to be extra careful in his movements, especially at high-security places like a border. It seemed to occur to him then that this wasn’t a social call.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” He almost seemed to expect that I wasn’t okay. For all his quirkiness, he’d been legitimately worried about me staying behind.
“Surprisingly, yes. I’ve got something that might help you.” I allowed a dramatic pause that was straight out of his playbook. “I might be able to make the ink that you use to seal the tattoos.”
He went slack jawed. “That . . . that’s impossible.”
Adrian scoffed. “Is it? She broke into a high-security Alchemist stronghold and hunted you down. You think she can’t replicate what some random guy you dug up can do?”
Marcus had no counter for that and fixed his gaze back on me. “You’ve got indigo ink?”
“Not exactly. I can’t get the mineral I’m pretty sure your guy uses, but I think I know a couple others that’ll do the trick.”
“You ‘think,’” he repeated.
“The mineral’s not what matters. Well, it does a little. It’s the process of creating the ink that matters, and I know how to do that.” That wasn’t entirely true. I understood the principles but had yet to test them out. I hoped Marcus wouldn’t push me for details, because while he was on board with a lot of far-out stuff, I wasn’t sure where me being involved with magic would fall.
He mulled things over for several long moments and then gave a rueful smile. “If anyone could pull off something like that, it’d be you.”
“Think what it means,” I said, excited that I’d made progress. “If we could mass-produce the ink, you could reach more people. You also wouldn’t have to travel. You’d save a lot of time and be able to do more.”
Adrian, careful to keep his distance from me, laughed. “I don’t think Marcus minds the traveling. Beaches and margaritas, right?”
Marcus glared. “It’s not all about that. And you’re one to talk.”
Hostile tension suddenly filled the space between them. They’d actually gotten in a physical fight once, following a mis-understanding when Marcus had accidentally hit me. Adrian hadn’t taken that very well, and although he’d eventually accepted that it was a mistake, I knew the incident weighed heavily upon him.
“Focus, you guys,” I snapped. “There’s no time for this.”
Their eyes stayed locked for several more agonizing seconds, and then Marcus turned back to me, unclenching hands I hadn’t realized were in fists. “So when will you know if you can pull this off?”
Excellent question. I’d learned a lot in my brief research but still needed to figure out a few more things. That, and I’d need a long stretch of time away from Zoe to work on it. Although I could still keep claiming I had to go off on projects with Ms. Terwilliger, I knew Zoe was starting to think the outings were too frequent. Maybe she didn’t have arcane suspicions, but there was always the chance she might tell my dad I was more focused on my fake education than the task at hand.
“A week. Maybe two.” I spoke more confidently than I felt.
Marcus frowned and then gave a slow nod. “I think we’ll be back near then. I need to get more information from my contact. Can you check in next week and let me know how it’s going?”
I hesitated. “It’d be better if you could manage a phone call—”
“No problem,” said Adrian, ignoring my sharp look. “As long as you’re asleep around this time and not too busy with ocean villa parties.”
He knew as well as I did that Marcus was usually forced to stay in hovels. “Great,” I said. “We’ll be in touch.”
Adrian took that as a dismissal and sent Marcus away. “Always a delight.”
“You shouldn’t have done that . . . but, well, thank you. It helps a lot,” I admitted.
Alone again, Adrian wrapped me in his arms. “Anything for you, Sage. Come over tomorrow, and I’ll consider it a debt well paid.”
Thrills ran through me, both at the suggestion and the way his hand slid up my hip and played with the edge of my shirt. Things felt real in these dreams. Very real.
“I can’t,” I admitted. “I’ve got to use that time to get some help from Ms. Terwilliger.”
The disappointment in his eyes was so fleeting, I could almost believe I’d imagined it. The smug smile he put on made it seem as though nothing in the world was wrong. That was how he operated and why so few knew of the inner turmoil that raged within him.
“Well, then, I suppose that’ll just give you more time to fantasize about me,” he declared. “Because of course that’s what you’ll secretly be doing instead of working.”
“Of course,” I laughed. After long kisses goodbye, I faded off to true sleep.
When I showed up for Ms. Terwilliger’s independent study the next day, she was waiting with her coat and keys. “Spencer’s first,” she said curtly. “It’s been one of those days.”
“We don’t have that much time,” I protested. That, and going to my favorite coffee shop was pretty torturous these days.
“We can talk along the way,” she said.
She was true to her word as we drove over, explaining some of the more pragmatic aspects both of charm making and manipulating the elements. “It’s a tricky art, working with them in their purest form,” she mused. “Simultaneously simple yet infinitely complex.” It sounded like my relationship with Adrian.
When we walked into Spencer’s, I half hoped to see my friend Trey Juarez working the counter. I remembered moments later that we were still technically in school hours and not everyone got to take off early like I did. Between Adrian and Zoe, I hadn’t had much time to talk to Trey. The new semester had rearranged our schedules, so we no longer shared any classes. I didn’t know if avoiding him was a good or bad thing. He had a lot of complex issues going on in his life, issues that overlapped with my own life—because Trey had been born into a group of vampire hunters.
Calling themselves the Warriors of Light, they claimed their focus was on destroying Strigoi, but much like the Alchemists, the Warriors didn’t have that high of an opinion of Moroi and dhampirs either. Trey was currently on the outs with the Warriors, after inadvertently helping me disband a crazy killing ritual of theirs. For a while, being ostracized had tormented him, especially because of his dad’s pressure. Then, something had changed.
Trey had fallen for Angeline.
Out of all the outlandish things she was involved in, that one had caught me by surprise more than anything. The drama had grown increasingly complex because she had technically been dating Eddie at the time, who had rebounded to her after deciding his love for Jill was futile, since he’d never be worthy of her. Eddie and Angeline’s relationship had ended abruptly when we’d discovered that her tutoring sessions with Trey had become make-out sessions.
Hooking up with a human wasn’t such an odd concept for Angeline, having grown up with the Keepers. Trey had taken it harder when he realized how many of the Warriors’ tenets he was violating; plus he’d felt guilty over Eddie. I was pretty sure Trey still harbored feelings for her. As for Angeline, it was hard to say. Like Jill, she seemed to have joined Neil’s fan club. Adrian claimed both girls were faking their feelings for him, and I couldn’t even begin to sort that out.
To say my friends were living a soap opera was an understatement. They almost made my dangerous relationship with Adrian look boring.
The only bright side was that everyone seemed to be in a holding pattern. Trey’s conflicted principles kept him away from Angeline. Eddie’s resolve kept him away from everyone, as did Neil’s. And so long as Neil held true to that stance, Jill and Angeline would have nothing to act on. Maybe it would have been nice for everyone to have some sort of happy ending, but I selfishly had to admit that my life was a lot easier when the drama dial was kept on low.
Trey might not have been behind the counter today, but another barista I knew well was. His name was Brayden, and he and I had briefly dated. Even at the time, it had seemed a little cool and unreal, and now, alive with the thrill of Adrian, I couldn’t even fathom how I’d thought what Brayden and I had was a relationship. There’d been no passion with Brayden, no moments that took my breath away, and certainly no touches that could set me ablaze. In retrospect, the highlight of dating him had been free coffee and a particularly compelling discussion on the fall of the Roman Empire.
“Hi, Sydney,” he said. We’d encountered each other here before, and things were pretty civil, especially since Trey told me Brayden had a new girlfriend. “Almost as smart as you,” Trey had said. “But not nearly as cute.”
I smiled back. “How’s it going?”
“Good, good. Just got out of class and found out my essay on the psychosocial implications of Pavlov’s associative experiments won me a scholarship.” He picked up a cup. “Skinny vanilla latte?”
I looked at the cup mournfully. “Mint tea.”
“There, there,” said Ms. Terwilliger, after she’d cruelly ordered her triple cappuccino. “You couldn’t have had any caffeine anyway.” It was true, seeing as I’d likely be experimenting with magic later. “Stay strong.”
“That’s right,” a voice behind me said. “Nothing builds character like a test of self-control.”
I spun around, thoroughly unprepared for who had joined us in line. “Wolfe?” I gasped. “You . . . you leave your house?”
Malachi Wolfe, instructor and proprietor of the Wolfe School of Defense, gave me a withering look from his one eye. “Of course I do. How else do you think I get supplies?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I figured you ordered them in.”
“I do for some stuff,” he agreed. “But I’ve got to come here in person to get whole-bean French roast. The dogs love it.”
While I supposed it was reasonable that he’d get out of the compound he called a home, showing up at a hip coffee shop just wasn’t what I’d imagined. Adrian and I had taken a self-defense course with Wolfe a couple months ago, and despite how bizarre it had all been, we’d picked up some useful tips. Wolfe himself was quite a sight to behold, with his long grizzled hair and eye patch.
“Ahem,” said Ms. Terwilliger. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Sydney?”
“Huh?” I was still floored by the fact that Wolfe was in jeans rather than his usual Bermuda shorts. “Oh. This is Malachi Wolfe. He’s the man Adrian and I took a self-defense class with. Wolfe, this is my history teacher, Ms.—er, Jaclyn Terwilliger.”
“It’s a pleasure,” she said.
Ms. Terwilliger extended her hand to shake his, and instead, he bowed grandly and kissed the top of hers. “No, no, believe me. The pleasure is all mine.”
To my complete and utter horror, she didn’t withdraw her hand when he continued to hold it. “You’re a teacher too, eh?” she asked. “I thought I sensed a kindred spirit when I first saw you.”
He nodded solemnly. “There’s no loftier goal than educating and shaping young minds for greatness.”
I thought that was a stretch, considering at least fifty percent of his teaching methods involved regaling us with stories of how he’d escaped from pirates in New Zealand or fought off a pack of hook-fanged ravens. (When I’d pointed out no such bird existed, he insisted the government was covering them up). Adrian and I were currently trying to put together a time line of Wolfe’s alleged adventures because we were pretty sure there was no way they could’ve happened the way he claimed.
“What brings you ladies out today?” asked Wolfe. He glanced around. “And where’s your boy?”
“Who? Oh, you mean Adrian?” I asked casually. “He’s probably still in class. He’s an art student at Carlton.”
Wolfe’s eyebrows rose. “Art? I always thought he was a little flighty, but I had no idea he was that far gone.”
“Hey, he’s very talented! He just got a lot of acclaim for a mixed-media project he worked on.”
“What was it?” Wolfe didn’t sound convinced.
“A piece using the monolith from 2001 as a symbol of mankind’s evolution to a world of advertising and social media.”
Wolfe’s contemptuous snort told me what he thought of that. “Goddamned idealistic college kids.”
“It’s brilliant,” I insisted.
“Sydney,” said Ms. Terwilliger. “It is a little over the top.”
I couldn’t even formulate a response to her traitorous words. Wolfe, however, wasted no opportunity. “You want to see art? You should go see this exhibit down by the San Diego shipyard. They re-created a Civil War battle scene completely out of Bowie knives.”