The Indigo Spell

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” I told him. I wasn’t entirely lying. “Lots of books.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Sydney.” He began tearing a pumpernickel roll into pieces. “I’m a glorified librarian.”

Maybe so, but that wasn’t my concern. What was my concern was Wade telling me that the archives were on a secure level, one floor up from the surveillance room that held security footage. He’d drawn me a map of each floor, making sure I memorized the layout and the best ways to get in and out.

“I’d still love to see them,” I said. “I mean, the history they contain is amazing.” Again, not entirely a lie. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes drop to my plunging neckline again. This wasn’t that difficult! Really, I didn’t know why I hadn’t been using my “womanly charms” a long time ago. Actually, I never really knew I had any, until now. “Could you get me in for a tour? Of the archives specifically. You seem like the kind of guy who could get access to . . . a lot of places.”

Ian choked on his roll. After a bout of coughing, he glanced up at my face, then my cleavage (again), and then back to my face. “I’d, um, love to, but it’s not really open to the public—I mean, even the Alchemist public. Only those with special scholar access are allowed in. We could look at the general access parts of the building, though.”

“Oh. I see.” I looked down at my plate, pouting slightly, but didn’t say anything else. As the waiter arrived with our food, I hoped my silence was making him reconsider what he could be missing out on.

Eventually, Ian couldn’t take it anymore. He cleared his throat, maybe because there was still bread stuck in it. “Well, I might be able to . . . you see, the problem is just getting you down to the secure levels. Once you’re through that checkpoint, it’s not hard to get you into the archives—especially if I’m working.”

“But you can’t do anything about the main checkpoint?” I coaxed, as if all real men should be able to do that.

“No, I mean . . . maybe. I’ve got a friend who works there. I don’t know if he’s got a shift tomorrow, but he still might be able to help. He owes me some money, so I can use this as a trade. I hope.”

“Oh, Ian.” I flashed him a smile that I hoped rivaled one of Marcus’s. “That’s amazing.” I remembered what Adrian had said. “I’d be so, so grateful if you could pull it off.”

My reaction clearly delighted Ian, and I wondered if Adrian had been right about how “so, so grateful” was translated. “I’ll call him tonight after the service,” Ian said. He looked determined now. “Hopefully we can make it happen before your flight tomorrow.”

I rewarded him by hanging on his every word for the rest of dinner, as though I’d never heard anything quite so fascinating. All the while, my heart raced with the knowledge that I was now one step closer to fulfilling Marcus’s task, one step closer to potentially proving a connection to a bunch of gun-toting zealots and the organization I’d served my whole life.

The salad was tiny, so I agreed to see the dessert menu after dinner. Ian suggested we share, but that was a little too intimate for me, not to mention unhygienic. So, I ate an entire lemon tart by myself, confident in the knowledge that I was still a long ways from the five-pound mark. When Adrian had told me I’d look healthier if I gained a little weight, he’d added that it would improve my bra size. I couldn’t even imagine what that would do for this dress.

The Alchemist center in St. Louis was contained inside a giant, industrial building that went undercover as a manufacturing plant. Moroi facilities—the court and their schools—usually posed as universities. How ironic that “creatures of the night” would live among beautifully landscaped gardens while “servants of the light” like us skulked in ugly buildings with no windows.

Inside, however, everything was pristine, bright, and well-organized. A receptionist checked us in when we arrived at the main desk and buzzed us through, along with many others who arrived for the service. There were golden lilies everywhere. For many, this was a fun-filled family event, and lots of children trailed their Alchemist parents. It made me feel strange as I watched them, these kids who had been born into our profession. I wondered how they’d feel ten years from now. Would they be excited to step up to the plate? Or would they start questioning?

The center had three floors aboveground and five underneath. People off the street could hardly just come wandering in, but we still took precautions by keeping the more benign offices on the main floor. As we all walked down the corridor to the auditorium, we passed Payroll, Travel, and Maintenance. All the offices had clear windows looking into them from the hall, maintaining the Alchemist ideal that we had nothing to hide.

The secure offices belowground weren’t quite so open, however.

I’d been in this facility once before for a training seminar, and it had actually taken place in the auditorium we entered for the service. Despite the spiritual theme of tonight’s event, the room bore little resemblance to a church. Someone had gone to the effort of decorating the walls with red-bowed evergreen garlands and setting pots of poinsettias on the stage. The room had a state-of-the-art audio-visual system, including a giant screen that gave a larger-than-life look at whatever was happening onstage. The auditorium’s seating was so efficient that even those in the farthest corners had a pretty clear view, so I think the screen was just for emphasis.

Ian and I found two seats near the middle of the auditorium. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?” he asked hopefully.

No way was I going to unleash the dress in this den of taupe and high collars. Besides, if I kept the coat on, it would just give him something to keep looking forward to. Adrian would be proud of my ability to manipulate the opposite sex . . . and I couldn’t help but wonder just how well Adrian would be able to stand up to this dress. Clearly, I was getting overly confident with this new power.

“I’m cold,” I said, pulling the coat tighter. It was kind of ridiculous since the lights from the stage and high number of bodies had already made the room stifling, but I figured since it was so cold outside, I could get away with it.

For someone who always seems to be so cold, you sure can warm up pretty fast.

“Sydney? Is that you?”

I froze, not from the shock of hearing my name, but from the voice that had said it. I’d know that voice anywhere. Slowly, I turned away from Ian and looked up into my father’s face. He was standing in the aisle, wearing a heavy wool suit, with melted snowflakes in his graying dark blond hair.

“Hi, Dad,” I said. Then I saw who was standing beside him. “Zoe?”

It was all I could do not to jump up and hug her. I hadn’t seen or spoken to my younger sister since that night I’d been pulled out of bed and sent on my Palm Springs mission. That was the mission she believed I’d stolen from her, no matter my protests. It was the mission that had driven her away from me.

I eyed her now, trying to assess where we stood. She didn’t wear the blatant hatred she had at our last meeting, which was a good sign. Unfortunately, she didn’t look all that warm and friendly either. She was cautious, studying me carefully—almost warily. She did not, I noticed, have a golden lily on her cheek yet.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” said my father.

His parting words to me had been “Don’t embarrass me,” so I wasn’t really astonished by his low expectations. “It’s the holidays,” I said. Forcing a smile now was far more difficult than it had been with Ian. “It’s important to be here with the group. Do you know Ian Jansen?”

Ian, wide-eyed, jumped up and shook my father’s hand. Clearly, he hadn’t expected a parental meeting so soon. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

My father nodded gravely and looked back and forth between the two of us. Whatever surprise he’d had at seeing me here had just been trumped by me being here with a date. Glancing at Ian, I tried to guess how he’d appear to someone like my dad. Clean cut, respectful, an Alchemist. The fact that Ian tended to bore me was irrelevant. I doubted my father had ever thought much about me dating, but if so, he probably hadn’t thought I’d get a catch like this.

“Would you like to join us, sir?” asked Ian. I had to give him credit; he’d overcome his initial shock and was now in proper suitor mode. “It would be an honor.”

At first, I thought Ian was just laying it on thick. Then I realized meeting my father might actually very well be an honor. Jared Sage wasn’t a rock star, but he did have a reputation among the Alchemists that, by their standards, was outstanding. My father seemed to like the flattery and agreed. He took a seat beside Ian.

“Sit by your sister,” he told Zoe, nodding in my direction.

Zoe obeyed and stared straight ahead. She was nervous too, I realized. Looking her over, I felt an ache from how much I’d missed her. We’d inherited the same brown eyes from our father, but she’d gotten Mom’s brown hair, which made me a little jealous. Zoe also looked a lot more put together than the last time I’d seen her. She wore a pretty dark brown cashmere dress and didn’t have a single hair out of place. Something about her appearance bothered me, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first. It soon hit me. She looked older. She looked like a young lady, like my peer. I supposed it was silly of me to feel sad, since she was fifteen, but I kind of wished she could stay a little kid forever.

“Zoe.” I kept my voice low, not that I needed to worry about the men overhearing. My dad was interrogating Ian. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for so long.”

She nodded. “I know. Mom tells me each time you call.” But there was no apology for dodging my calls.

“I’m sorry about the way we left things. I never meant to hurt you or one-up you. I thought I was doing you a favor, saving you from getting involved.”

Her mouth tightened, and something hard flashed in her eyes. “I don’t mind being involved. I want to be involved, you know. And it would’ve been great! Being in the field at fifteen. I could have a stellar career. Dad would be so proud.”

I chose my next words very carefully so that she wouldn’t take offense. “Yeah, but another year with Dad will really be, um, stellar. He’s got so much experience—and you want to get as much as you can, believe me. Even if you have to wait for an assignment at sixteen, you’ll still be ahead of the rest of us.”

Each word out of my mouth made me feel sick, but Zoe seemed to buy it. I wasn’t bothered by her wanting to be part of the cause—but it killed me that she was clearly doing it to impress our dad. “I suppose. And I am learning a lot. I wish I could at least get some field experience—even if it’s not my own post. It’s all theory with Dad. I’ve never even seen a Moroi.”

“I’m sure he’ll fix that.” I didn’t like encouraging this, but at least she was speaking to me.

The lights dimmed, ending our conversation. Organ music filled the room, and the scent of frankincense drifted around us. Incense and resin were common components in magic, and my mind was instantly starting to make associations from the spell books I’d painstakingly copied. Frankincense is used to heal burns. It can also be used when casting divining or purifying spells—

I immediately stopped that train of thought. Even if I was keeping it to myself, thinking about magic in the middle of an Alchemist church service was pretty sacrilegious. I shifted uncomfortably, wondering what all these people would think if they knew the truth about me: that I practiced magic and had kissed a vampire. . . .

Alchemist priests were called hierophants. They performed blessings and offered moral advice, when needed. In day-to-day affairs, they wore suits, but for this occasion, the lead hierophant wore robes that reminded me uncomfortably of the robes some of the Warriors had donned. It was yet another reminder of our shared history—and maybe our shared future. Marcus had been right. This was a mystery I had to solve, regardless of where I stood on breaking the tattoo.

I’d attended services like this off and on throughout my life and knew the Latin prayers by heart. I chanted along with the rest of the congregation and listened avidly as the hierophant reaffirmed our goals, his voice echoing through the sound system. Even though the Alchemists’ religion had loose connections to Christianity there was very little mention of God or Jesus or even Christmas. Most of his sermon was about how we had to help protect humanity from the temptation of following Strigoi who offered unholy immortality. That warning, at least, wasn’t exaggerated.

I’d heard stories and even seen for myself what happened when humans decided to serve Strigoi. Those Strigoi promised to turn their servants as a reward. Those humans helped Strigoi spread their evil and became monsters themselves, no turning needed. Keeping those dark vampires hidden was for the good of weak humans who couldn’t protect themselves. I paid especially close attention when the hierophant mentioned the Moroi offhandedly in his sermon, as a means to an end in defeating the Strigoi. He didn’t exactly inspire warm and fuzzy feelings about them, but at least he wasn’t calling for Moroi and dhampir destruction either.

I agreed with a good part of the message, but it no longer filled me with the fire it once had. And when the hierophant started droning on and on about duty, obedience, and what was “natural,” I really began feeling disconnected. I almost wished there was more talk of the divine, like you’d find at a normal church service. With everything going on in my life, I wouldn’t have minded a connection to a higher power. Sometimes, when I listened to the hierophant, I wondered if everything he was saying had just been made up by a bunch of people sitting around in the Middle Ages. No holy mandate required.

I felt like a traitor when the service ended. Maybe Adrian’s joke had been right: I didn’t even need Marcus to break my tattoo and connection to the group. Glancing at my companions—and even the other Alchemists in the room—it was clear I was alone. All of them looked captivated by the sermon, devoted to the cause.

I was again eerily reminded of the Warriors and their fanatical devotion. No, no, whatever else the Alchemists are guilty of, we have nothing to do with that kind of unhinged behavior. And yet . . . it was more complicated than that, I realized. The Alchemists didn’t shoot first and ask questions later or make our members battle each other. We were civilized and logical, but we did have a tendency to just do what we were told. That was the similarity, one that could be dangerous.

Zoe and my father walked out with Ian and me. “Isn’t it amazing?” she asked. “Hearing that . . . well, it just makes me so glad Dad decided to raise another Alchemist in the family. It’s good to boost our numbers.”

Had that truly been his motivation? Or was it because he didn’t trust me after I’d helped Rose?

It was infuriating that the only conversation I could have with Zoe centered around Alchemist rhetoric, but I’d take it over the silence of the last few months. In my heart, I longed to talk the way we used to. I wanted it back. Even though she’d warmed up a little, that old familiarity that had once existed between us was gone.

“I wish we had more time,” I told her once our groups were ready to part in the parking lot. “There’s so much I want to talk to you about.”

She smiled, and there was a genuineness in it that warmed me. Maybe the distance between us wasn’t irreparable. “Me too. I’m sorry about . . . well, the way things were. I hope we get some time together soon. I . . . I’ve missed you.”

That nearly broke me down, as did her hug. “We’ll be together soon, I promise.”

Ian—whom my father now seemed to regard as a future son-in-law—drove me back to my hotel and couldn’t stop gushing about how awesome it had been to meet Jared Sage. As for me, I could still feel where Zoe had hugged me.

Ian promised he’d get in touch with me in the morning about a tour of the archives. Then, weirdly, he closed his eyes and leaned forward. It took me a moment to realize that he expected a good-night kiss. Seriously? That was how he went about it? Had he ever even kissed anyone before? Even Brayden had displayed a little more passion. And, of course, neither guy measured up to Adrian.

When I did nothing, Ian finally opened his eyes. I gave him another hug—with the coat on—and told him how happy I was that he’d met my dad. That seemed to satisfy him.

Adrian made his nightly check-in with me once I was asleep later on. Naturally, he wanted to know about my dress. He also kept trying to find out how exactly I’d won Ian over and seemed amused at the few details I decided to give him. But mostly I couldn’t stop talking about Zoe. Adrian soon gave up on the other topics and simply listened to me gush.

“She spoke to me, Adrian!” I paced around the reception hall, clasping my hands in excitement. “And she wasn’t mad. By the end, she was happy to see me. Do you know what that’s like? I mean, I know you don’t have any brothers or sisters, but to have someone you haven’t seen in a while welcome you back?”

“I don’t know what it’s like,” he said quietly. “But I can imagine.”

I was too caught up in my own joy at the time, but later, I wondered if he was talking about his incarcerated mother.

“It’s nice to see you so happy,” he added. “Not that you’ve been miserable lately, but you’ve had a lot to worry about.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that and came to a halt. “Are you saying evil witches and espionage are stressful?”

“Nah.” He walked over to me. “All in a day’s work for us. But I’m going to make my way to bed now. You seem like you can get by without me tonight.”

He’d visited me every night since Veronica’s dream. Most of the trips were short now, but I still knew it was a lot of effort and spirit for him. “Thank you. I feel like I can’t say that to you enough.”

“You don’t have to say it at all, Sage. Good luck tomorrow.”

Right. Stealing top secret info from a highly secure facility.

“Thanks,” I said again. A little of my mood dimmed, but not all of it. “No matter what happens, though, patching things up with Zoe makes me feel like this mission is already a success.”

“That’s because you haven’t been caught.” He cupped my face in his hands and leaned close. “See that you aren’t. I don’t want to have to dream visit you in prison . . . or wherever it is bad Alchemists go.”

“Hey, at least I’d have you for company, right?”

He gave me a rueful headshake, and the dream vanished around me.

\IAN WOKE ME THE NEXT MORNING with a super-early phone call. At first, I thought maybe he hoped to sneak in before the other Alchemists woke up, but it turned out he just wanted to get breakfast beforehand. Seeing as he’d managed to get me access, I couldn’t very well refuse. He’d originally wanted to go to the facility in the late morning, but I talked him into going closer to noon. It meant lingering longer over breakfast, but it was worth the sacrifice. However, I was strictly back to khakis and a linen top. Espionage aside, cocktail dresses and breakfast buffets just didn’t mix. As a concession, however, I unbuttoned two buttons at the top of my shirt. Openly wearing that into the facility was practically R-rated, and Ian seemed thrilled by the “scandalous” act.
Sunday at the facility was much quieter than the previous night. Although Alchemists never really got a break from their duties, most of the center worked normal weekday business hours. I had no difficulties checking in through the main reception again, but as predicted, we had a small delay in getting to the secure area. The guy on duty wasn’t the friend who owed Ian a favor. We had to wait for him to come out from the back room, and even then, it took Ian a bit of cajoling to convince his colleague to let me in. I think it was obvious to both of them that Ian was just trying to impress me, and finally, the first guy relented to what seemed like a harmless errand. After all, I was a fellow Alchemist, and I was only going on a tour of a library. What could possibly go wrong?

They searched my purse and made me walk through a metal detector. I had two spells in mind that I could perform without physical components, so at least I didn’t have to explain any crystals or herbs. The trickiest part was a thumb drive I’d hidden in my bra. They might not have questioned me carrying one in my purse, but I hadn’t wanted to risk it being called out. That being said, if the thumb drive did show up on the scan, I was going to have a much more difficult time explaining why I was hiding it. I tensed as I stepped under the scanner, bracing myself to either run or attempt a Wolfe move. But, as hoped, it was too small to find, and we were waved through. That was one obstacle down, though it didn’t make me any less tense.

“Did you end up trading this for the money he owed you?” I asked once Ian and I were descending toward the archives.

“Yeah.” He made a face. “I tried to just swap it out for half of what he owed, but it was all or nothing for him.”

“So how much is this trip costing you?”

“Fifty dollars. It’s worth it, though,” he added quickly.

Dinner had cost about the same. This was turning into an expensive weekend for Ian, particularly since I was the only one truly reaping the rewards. I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty and had to remind myself again and again that this was for an important cause. I would’ve offered to pay him back for it all, but something told me that would counteract everything I’d been working to achieve with my “womanly charms.”

The archives were sealed with electronic locks that opened when Ian scanned his card key. As we stepped inside, I nearly forgot that coming in here was just a cover for the larger plan. Books and books and books surrounded me as well as scrolls and documents written on parchment. Old and delicate items were sealed under glass, with notes and signs against a far wall on how to access digital copies of them on computers. A couple of Alchemists, young like us, worked at tables and were transcribing old books into their laptops. One of them looked excited about her job; the other guy looked bored. He seemed to welcome the distraction of us entering.

I must have worn an appropriately awed expression because when I turned to Ian, he was watching me with pride. “Pretty cool, huh?” Apparently being a glorified librarian had just become a much more exciting job for him. “Follow me.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. We began by exploring the full extent of the archives room, which stretched back much farther than I initially realized. The Alchemists prized knowledge, and it was obvious from this collection, which dated back centuries. I lingered at the shelves, wanting to read every title. They came in different languages and covered a full range of topics useful to our trade: chemistry, history, mythology, the supernatural . . . it was dizzying.

“How do you organize it?” I asked. “How can you find anything?”

Ian pointed to small placards on the shelves that I hadn’t noticed. They bore alphanumeric codes that were part of no filing system I recognized. “These catalog it all. And here’s the directory.”

He led me to a touch screen panel embedded in the wall. I pressed it and was presented with a menu of options: AUTHOR, TIME PERIOD, SUBJECT, LANGUAGE. I touched SUBJECT and was led through a series of more and more specific topics until I finally realized I’d been searching for “Magic” in the supernatural section. It gave me a list of titles, each with its own code in the organizational system.

To my surprise, there were actually a number of books on magic, and I burned with curiosity. Did the Alchemists have records of witches? Or was it all speculation? Most likely these were moral books preaching the wrongness of humans even considering such feats.

“Can I browse some of the books?” I asked him. “I mean, I know I can’t sit and read all afternoon, but there’s so much history . . . I just kind of want to be a part of it. I’d be so, so grateful.”

I really didn’t think that would work twice, but it did.

“Okay.” He pointed toward a small office in the back. “I need to catch up on a few things. Do you want to meet back here in an hour?”

I thanked him profusely and then returned to the touch screen. I yearned to investigate the magic books but had to remind myself why I was here. As long as I was in the archives, I might as well do some research that would help our cause. I flipped through the menus until I located the section on the Alchemists’ early history. I’d hoped to find a reference to vampire hunters in general or the Warriors specifically. No luck. The best I could do was follow the codes to shelves and shelves detailing our group’s formation. Most of the books were dense and written in an antiquated style. The really old ones weren’t even in English.

I skimmed a few and soon realized a task like this would take longer than an hour. The newer books had no mention of the Warriors, which didn’t surprise me, seeing as that information was now covered up. If I was going to locate any references to vampire hunters, it would be in the oldest books. They didn’t have much in the way of tables of contents or indices, and there was no way I could do a full read. Remembering my real mission here, I put the books away after about ten minutes and sought out Ian. That earlier tension returned, and I began to sweat.

“Hey, is there a restroom in here?”

I prayed there wasn’t. I’d seen one down the hall when we’d come to this level. Part of my plan depended on getting out of the archives.

“Down the hall, by the stairs,” he said. Some work issue had required his attention, and if my luck held, it would keep his eyes off the clock. “Knock on the door when you get back. I’ll tell the scribes to let you in.”

I’d had a knot of anxiety in my stomach all day that I’d been trying to ignore. Now there was no getting around it. It was time for the unthinkable.

Subtlety had no role in Alchemist security. The hallway contained cameras at each end. They faced each other, providing a long, continuous shot of the corridor. The restrooms were located at one end of the hall, almost directly under a camera. I went inside the ladies’ room and verified there were no other people—or cameras—within. At least the Alchemists allowed some privacy.

Casting the invisibility spell was easy. Getting out was a little more difficult. The cameras’ position made me think the restroom door was too flush with the wall for either camera to really get a good look at it. The door opened inward, so I was able to slip out and feel confident no camera had picked up a ghostly door opening. The door to the stairs was the real beast. It was in the range of one of the cameras. Ms. Terwilliger had told me the invisibility spell would protect me from video and film. So, I had no fear of being spotted. I simply had to take the risk of the camera recording the door opening by itself.

Although I knew security guards watched live feeds of the cameras, there were too many for them to scrutinize every second. If no sudden movement appeared on this one, I doubted any guard would notice. And if things stayed tame on this level, no one would have any reason to review the footage. But the operations level . . . well, if everything went according to plan, this sleepy Sunday was about to get a lot more exciting there.

I slipped in and out of the stairwell, opening the door with absolutely as little space as possible. The operations level was even more secure than the archives, with heavy, industrial-looking doors that required both key cards and codes. I had no illusions about cracking any of it. Entry into the security office, much like the rest of this task, relied on an odd mix of logic and luck. The one thing you could count on with Alchemists was reliability. I knew how schedules tended to work. Lunch breaks were taken on the hour at typical lunch times: eleven, twelve, and one. This was why I’d asked Ian to schedule our visit to this time, when I could be relatively certain workers would be moving in and out of the room. Noon was five minutes away, and I crossed my fingers someone would exit soon.

As it turned out, someone entered. A man came whistling down the hall. When he reached the door, the smell of fast-food hamburgers gave away his lunch choice. I held my breath as he scanned his card and punched in the numbers. The lock clicked, and he pushed the door open. I scurried in behind him and cleared the door without having to catch it or open it farther. Unfortunately, he came to a halt sooner than I expected, and I brushed against him. I immediately shrank away, and he scanned around, startled.

Please don’t think there’s an invisible person here. How terrible would that be to have made it this far, only to be detected now? Fortunately, magical subterfuge wasn’t the first thing Alchemists turned to as a reason for anything. After a few more puzzled moments, he shrugged and called a greeting to one of his coworkers.

Wade had described the room perfectly. Monitors covered one wall, flipping back and forth between different camera views. A couple of guards kept an eye on the footage, while others worked away at computers. Wade had also told me which workstation contained the files I needed. I approached it—careful to avoid any other contact mishaps. A woman was already seated at the station.

“I was thinking of Thai carryout,” she told one of her coworkers. “I’ve just got to finish this report.”

No! She was about to take her lunch break. For my plan to work, that couldn’t happen. If she left, she would lock her computer. I needed it accessible for this plan to work. She was running late on her lunch, which meant I had to act now.

This room wasn’t exempt from surveillance. Even the watchers had watchers. Fortunately, there was only one camera. I selected an empty computer with a screen facing the camera and stood behind it. Wires and cords snaked out of the computer’s panel, and the fans whirred steadily inside. I rested my hand on the panel and did one more quick assessment. The computer’s back was out of the camera’s view, but it would do no good if it was in the middle of someone else’s line of vision. Everyone seemed preoccupied, though. It was time to act.

I created a fireball—a small one. I kept it in the palm of my hand and rested it right next to the panel. Despite its size, I summoned as much heat as I could. Not quite blue, but getting there. It took effect quickly, and within seconds, the cords and panel began to melt. The scent of burnt plastic rolled over me, and smoke drifted upward. It was enough. I let the fireball fade, and then I sprinted away from the computer just in time. Everyone had now noticed the burning computer. An alarm went off. There were cries of surprise, and someone yelled for a fire extinguisher. They all rose from their chairs to hurry over and look—including the woman who’d been at the computer I needed.

There was no time to waste. I sat immediately in her chair and plugged in the thumb drive. With gloved hands, I grabbed hold of the mouse and began clicking through directories. Wade hadn’t been able to help much at this point. We’d just hoped finding the files would be intuitive. All the while, I was conscious of the time—and that someone might notice a mouse moving by itself. Even after they put out the fire, the Alchemists hovered around the smoking computer, trying to figure out what had happened. Overheating wasn’t uncommon, but a fire happening that quickly definitely was. And these were computers that contained highly sensitive information.

I felt like there were a million directories. I checked a few likely candidates, only to hit a dead end. Each time I hit a dead end, I would silently swear at the wasted time. The other Alchemists weren’t going to stay away forever! Finally, after more stressful searching, I found a directory of old surveillance footage. It contained folders linked to every camera in the building—including one marked MAIN CHECKPOINT. I clicked it open and found files named by date. Wade had told me that eventually these files were cleared and moved to archives, but the day I needed was still here. The cameras recorded one frame every second. Multiplied by twenty-four hours, that made for a huge file—but not nearly the size continuous filming would create. The file would fit on my thumb drive, and I began copying it over.

The connection was fast, but it was still a big transfer. The screen told me it had ten seconds to go. Ten seconds. The computer’s owner could be back by then. I allowed myself another peek at the Alchemists. They were all still puzzling out the mystery. The thing about scientists like us was that a technological failure like this was fascinating. Also, it never occurred to any of them to look for a supernatural explanation. They tossed around theories with each other and started to take the melted computer apart. My file finished copying, and I sprang out of the chair, just as the woman began walking back toward it. I’d been fully prepared to risk another “ghost door” while they were distracted, but the fire alarm had summoned others in the hallway. People moved in and out with such frequency that I had no trouble holding the door open just long enough for me to sneak through.

I practically ran back to the archives level and had to calm myself when I reentered the restroom. I uncast the invisibility spell and waited for my breathing to slow. The thumb drive was back in my bra, the gloves back in my purse. Studying myself in the mirror, I decided that I looked innocent enough to return to the archives.

One of the scribes let me in. It was the engrossed girl, and she gave me a look that said opening the door was a waste of her time. Ian still appeared to be engulfed with work in the back, which was a relief. I’d been gone far longer than a bathroom trip would require and had worried he’d wonder where I was at. Things could’ve gone badly if he’d sent the girl to find me, both because I wasn’t in the restroom and because she’d be really annoyed at the interruption. Over in the history section, I sat on the floor with a book picked at random, which I only pretended to read. I was too anxious and keyed up to parse the words, no matter how many times I tried to reassure myself. There was no reason for the Alchemists to suspect me of causing the fire. There was no reason for them to think I’d stolen data. There was no reason for them to think I was connected to any of this.

Ian found me when the hour was up, and I feigned disappointment at having to leave. In reality, I couldn’t get out of this building fast enough. He drove me to the airport and chattered nonstop about the next time we’d get to see each other. I smiled and nodded appropriately but reminded him our work had to come first and that my post was particularly consuming. He was obviously disappointed but couldn’t deny the logic. The Alchemist greater good came first. Even better, he didn’t try one of those awful kisses again—though he did suggest we set up some times for video chatting. I told him to email me, secretly vowing I’d never open up any message from him.

I didn’t relax until the plane took off, when the potential for an Alchemist raid seemed pretty low. The most paranoid part of me worried there could be a party waiting for me at the Palm Springs airport, but for now I had a few hours of peace.

I’d just assumed I’d deliver the drive to Marcus and leave it at that. But now, with it in my possession, my curiosity got the better of me. I had to get to the bottom of this mystery. Was the Z. J. who’d visited the Alchemists really Master Jameson?

With fresh coffee in hand, I opened the file on my laptop and began to watch.

Even with one frame per second, the footage went on forever. Most of it was nothing but a quiet checkpoint, with the most exciting parts being when the guards changed position or took breaks. Plenty of Alchemists passed in and out, but relative to the overall time span, they were few and far between. Ian actually showed up once, off to start his shift.

I wasn’t even halfway through when the plane began its descent. Disheartened, I resigned myself to an evening of more of the same when I got back to the dorm. At least I’d be able to make some decent coffee to get me through. I was almost tempted just to push the file off on Marcus tomorrow and let him deal with reviewing it . . . but that nagging voice urging me to find out for myself won. It wasn’t just because of my curiosity either. I didn’t really think Marcus would fabricate anything, but if I could see for sure that—

There he was on the screen.

He wasn’t in those over-the-top robes, but there was no mistaking Master Jameson’s old-fashioned beard. He wore business casual clothing and seemed to be smiling at something a man beside him was saying. The man had a lily on his cheek but was no one I knew.

Master Jameson. With the Alchemists.

Marcus and his Merry Men’s conspiracy had panned out. A suspicious part of me wanted to believe this was a setup, that maybe they’d altered and planted this. But, no. I’d taken it myself, off an Alchemist server. It was possible Marcus had more insiders running errands for him, but this hadn’t been easy for me, even with magical assistance. Besides, why would Marcus go to so much trouble to make me believe this? If it was some twisted way to get me to join him, there were a million other ways he could have attempted it, with evidence much easier to fake.

Something in my gut told me this was real. I hadn’t forgotten the similarities in our rituals or how the Warriors had wanted our groups to merge. Maybe the Alchemists and the Warriors weren’t best friends yet, but someone had at least humored Master Jameson with a meeting. The question was, what had happened at that meeting? Had the Alchemist in the footage sent Jameson packing? Were the two of them together right now?

Regardless of the outcome, this was undeniable proof that the Alchemists and Warriors were still in contact. Stanton had told me we merely kept an eye on them and had no interest in hearing them out.

Once again, I had been lied to.

\SOME PART OF ME BEGGED FOR there to be a mistake. I watched the footage three more times, tossing crazy theories around in my head. Maybe Master Jameson had a twin who wasn’t a fanatic who hated vampires. No. The video didn’t lie. Only the Alchemists did.
I couldn’t ignore this. I couldn’t wait. I needed to resolve this immediately. If not sooner.

I sent Marcus a text as soon as my plane was on the ground: We meet tonight. No games. No runaround. TONIGHT.

There was no response from him by the time I got back to my dorm. What was he doing? Reading Catcher in the Rye again? If I’d known what dive he was holed up in, I would’ve marched over there right then. There was nothing I could do but wait, so I called Ms. Terwilliger both as a distraction and to buy some freedom.

“Nothing to report,” she told me when she answered. “We’re still just watching and waiting—although, your extra charm is almost complete.”

“That’s not why I’m calling,” I said. “I need you to get me a curfew extension tonight.” I felt bad using her for something totally unrelated, but I had to do this.

“Oh? Are you paying me an unexpected visit?”

“Er—no. This is for something else.”

She clearly thought that was funny. “Now you use my assistance for personal matters?”

“Don’t you think I’ve earned it?” I countered.

She laughed, something I hadn’t heard from her in a while. She agreed to my request and promised to call the dorm’s front desk right away. As soon as we hung up, my phone chimed with the expected message from Marcus. All the text contained was an address that was a half hour away. Assuming he was ready for me now, I grabbed my messenger bag and got on the road.

In light of my past meetings with Marcus, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d led me to a department store or karaoke bar. Instead, I arrived at a vintage music shop, the kind that sold vinyl records. A large CLOSED sign hung on the door, emphasized by dark windows and an empty parking lot. I got out of my car and double-checked the address, wondering if my GPS had led me astray. My earlier zeal gave way to nervousness. How careless was this? One of Wolfe’s first lessons was to avoid sketchy situations, yet here I was, exposing myself.

Then, from the shadows, I heard my name whispered. I turned toward the sound and saw Sabrina materialize out of the darkness, carrying a gun as usual. Maybe if I showed her the one in my glove compartment, we could have a bonding moment.

“Go around back,” she said. “Knock on the door.” Without another word, she returned to the shadows.

The back of the building looked like the kind of place that screamed mugging, and I wondered if Sabrina would come to my aid if needed. I knocked on the door, half expecting some kind of speakeasy situation where I’d be asked for a password like “rusted iguana.” Instead, Marcus opened the door, ready with one of those smiles he kept hoping would win me over. Strangely, tonight it put me at ease.

“Hey, gorgeous, come on in.”

I stepped past him and found we were in the store’s back room, which was filled with tables, shelves, and boxes of records and cassette tapes. Wade and Amelia stood against a wall in mirrored stances, their arms crossed over their chests.

Marcus shut the door behind me and locked it. “Glad to see you back in one piece. Judging from your text—and your face—you found something.”

All the rage I’d been holding in since my discovery came bursting out. I retrieved my laptop from my bag and had to resist the urge to slam it against a table. “Yes! I can’t believe it. You were right. Your insane, far-fetched theory was right. The Alchemists have been lying! Or, well, some of them. I don’t know. Half of them don’t know what the other half’s doing.”

I expected some smug remark from Marcus or at least an “I told you so.” But that handsome face was drawn and sad, reminding me of the picture I’d seen of him and Clarence. “Damn,” he said softly. “I was kind of hoping you’d come back with a bunch of boring video. Amelia, go swap with Sabrina. I want her to see this.”

Amelia looked disappointed to be sent away, but she didn’t hesitate to obey his order. By the time Sabrina came back in, I had the video cued up to the correct time. They gathered around me. “Ready?” I asked. They nodded, and I could see a mix of emotions in all of them. Here it was, the conspiracy theory they’d all been waiting to prove. At the same time, the implications were staggering, and the three of them were well aware of how dangerous what they were about to see could be.

I played the video. It was only a few seconds long, but they were powerful ones as that bearded figure appeared on the screen. I heard an intake of breath from Sabrina.

“It’s him. Master Jameson.” She looked between all our faces. “That’s really the Alchemist place? He’s really there?”

“Yes,” said Wade. “And that’s Dale Hawthorne with him, one of the directors.”

That triggered a memory. “I know that name. He’s one of Stanton’s peers, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“Is it possible she wouldn’t know about a visit like this?” I asked. “Even at her level?”

It was Marcus who answered. “Maybe. Although, walking him right in there—even to the secure level—is pretty ballsy. Even if she doesn’t know about the meeting, it’s a safe bet others do. If it were completely shady, Hawthorne would’ve met him off-site. Of course, the secure list means this wasn’t out in the open either.”

So, it was possible Stanton hadn’t lied to me—well, at least not about the Alchemists being in contact with the Warriors. She’d certainly lied about the Alchemists knowing about Marcus since he’d said he was a notorious figure to most higher-ups. Even if she was ignorant about Master Jameson, it didn’t change the fact that other Alchemists—important ones—were keeping some dangerous company. Maybe I didn’t always like their procedures, but I’d desperately wanted to believe they were doing good in the world. Maybe they were. Maybe they weren’t. I just didn’t know anymore.

When I dragged my eyes from the frozen frame of Master Jameson, I found Marcus watching me. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready for what?”

He walked over to another table and returned with a small case. When he opened it, I saw a small vial of silver liquid and a syringe.

“What is—oh.” Realization hit me. “That’s the blood that’ll break the tattoo.”

He nodded. “Pulling the elements out creates a reaction that turns it silver. It takes a few years, but eventually, the gold in your skin will fade to silver too.”

All of them were looking at me expectantly, and I took a step back. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“Why wait?” asked Marcus. He pointed at the laptop. “You’ve seen this. You know what they’re capable of. Can you keep lying to yourself? Don’t you want to go forward with your eyes open?”

“Well . . . yes, but I don’t know if I’m ready to have some strange substance injected into me.”

Marcus filled the syringe with the silver liquid. “I can demonstrate on my tattoo if it’ll make you feel better. It won’t hurt me, and you can see that there aren’t any dire side effects.”

“We don’t know for sure that they’ve done anything to me,” I protested. He had a logical argument, but I was still terrified of taking this step. I could feel my hands shaking. “This could be a waste. There may be no group loyalty compulsion in me.”

“But you also don’t know for sure,” he countered. “And there’s always a little loyalty put in the initial tattoo. I mean, not enough to make you some slave robot, but still. Wouldn’t you feel better knowing everything’s gone?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the needle. “Will I feel any different?”

“No. Although you could walk up to someone on the street and start telling them about vampires.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Then you’d just get thrown into a psych ward.”

Was I ready for this? Was I really going to take the next step into becoming part of Marcus’s Merry Men? I’d passed his test—which he’d been right about. Clearly, this group wasn’t useless. They had eyes on the Alchemists and the Warriors. They also seemingly had the Moroi’s best interests at heart.

The Moroi—or, more specifically, Jill. I hadn’t forgotten Sabrina’s offhand remark about the Warriors being interested in a missing girl. Who else could it be but Jill? And did this Hawthorne guy have access to her location? Had he passed it on to Master Jameson? And would this information put those around her at risk, like Adrian?

They were questions I didn’t have the answers to, but I had to uncover them.

“Okay,” I said. “Do it.”

Marcus didn’t waste any time. I think he was afraid I’d change my mind—which, perhaps, was not an unfounded fear. I sat down in one of the chairs and tipped my head to the side so that he’d have access to my cheek. Wade gently held my head with his hands. “Just to make sure you stay still,” he told me apologetically

Before Marcus started, I asked, “Where’d you learn to do this?”

His face had been solemn with the task ahead, but my question made him smile again. “I’m not technically tattooing you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. I was actually worried about a lot of things. “These are just some small injections, just like being re-inked.”

“What about the process itself? How’d you find out about it?” It was probably a question I should have asked before I sat down in this chair. But I hadn’t expected to be doing this so soon—or suddenly.

“A Moroi friend of mine theorized about it. I volunteered to be a guinea pig, and it worked.” He switched to business mode again and held up the needle. “Ready?”

I took a deep breath, feeling like I was standing on the edge of a precipice.

Time to jump.

“Go ahead.”

It hurt about as much as re-inking did, just a number of small pricks on my skin. Uncomfortable, but not really painful. In truth, it wasn’t a long process, but it felt like it took forever. All the while, I kept asking myself, What are you doing? What are you doing? At last, Marcus stepped back and regarded me with shining eyes. Sabrina and Wade smiled too.

“There you go,” Marcus said. “Welcome to the ranks, Sydney.”

I took my compact out of my purse to check the tattoo. My skin was pink from the needle’s piercing, but if this process continued to be like re-inking, that irritation would fade soon. Otherwise, the lily looked unchanged.

I also didn’t feel that changed on the inside. I didn’t want to storm the Alchemist facility and demand justice or anything like that. Taking him up on his dare to tell an outsider about vampires was probably my best bet to see if my tattoo had been altered, but I didn’t really feel like doing that either.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“That’s it,” Marcus said. “Once we get it sealed, you won’t have to worry about—”

“I’m not getting it sealed.”

All those smiles vanished.

Marcus looked confused, as though he might have misheard. “You have to. We’re going to Mexico next weekend. Once that’s done, the Alchemists won’t ever be able to get to you again.”

“I’m not getting it sealed,” I repeated. “And I’m not going to Mexico.” I gestured toward my laptop. “Look what I was able to pull off! If I stay where I’m at, I can keep finding out more. I can find out what else the Alchemists and Warriors are doing together.” I can find out if Jill is in danger. “Getting permanently marked and becoming an outcast kills all those opportunities for me. There’s no going back after that.”

I think Marcus almost always got his way, and this new development totally threw him off. Wade took up the argument. “There’s no going back now. You’re leaving a trail of bread crumbs. Look at what you’ve done. You already made inquiries about Marcus. Even if you haven’t gotten super-friendly with the Moroi, the Alchemists still know you spend a lot of time with them. And one day, someone may realize you were there when the data was stolen.”

“No one knows it was stolen,” I said promptly.

“You hope they don’t,” corrected Wade. “These little things are enough to raise red flags. Keep doing more, and you’ll make it worse. They’ll finally notice you, and that’s when it’ll be over.”

Marcus had recovered from his initial shock. “Exactly. Look, if you want to stay where you’re at until we go to Mexico, that’s fine. Make your peace with it or whatever. After that, you need to escape. We’ll keep working from the outside.”

“You can do whatever you want.” I began packing up my laptop. “I’m going to work from the inside.”

Marcus caught hold of my arm. “You’re setting yourself up for a fall, Sydney!” he said sternly. “You’re going to get caught.”

I pulled away from him. “I’ll be careful.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” said Sabrina, speaking up for the first time in a while.

“I’ll take that risk.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Unless you guys are going to forcibly stop me?” None of them answered. “Then I’m going. I’m not afraid of the Alchemists. Thank you for everything you’ve done. I really do appreciate it.”

“Thank you,” said Marcus at last. He shook his head at Wade, who looked like he wanted to protest. “For getting the data. I honestly didn’t think you’d be able to pull it off. I figured you’d return empty-handed, though I still would’ve broken the tattoo for you. A for effort, you know. Instead, you just proved what I’d thought before: you’re remarkable. We could really use you.”

“Well, you know how to get in touch with me.”

“And you know how to get in touch with us,” he said. “We’ll be here all week if you change your mind.”

I opened the door. “I won’t. I’m not running away.”

Amelia called goodbye to me when I got into my car, oblivious to the fact that I’d just defied her beloved leader. As I drove back to Amberwood, I was amazed at how free I felt—and it had nothing to do with the tattoo. It was the knowledge that I had defied everyone—the Alchemists, the Warriors, the Merry Men. I didn’t answer to anyone, no matter the cause. I was my own person, able to take my own actions. It wasn’t something I had a lot of experience with.

And I was about to do something drastic. I hadn’t told Marcus and the gang because I’d been afraid they really would stop me. When I got back to Amberwood, I went straight to my room and dialed Stanton. She answered on the first ring, which I took as a divine sign that I was doing the right thing.

“Miss Sage, this is unexpected. Did you enjoy the services?”

“Yes,” I said. “They were very enlightening. But that’s not why I’m calling. We have a situation. The Warriors of Light are looking for Jill.” I wasn’t going to waste any time.

“Why on earth would they do that?” She sounded legitimately surprised, but if there was one thing in all of this that I believed wholeheartedly, it was that the Alchemists were exceptional liars.

“Because they know if Jill’s whereabouts got out, it could throw the Moroi into chaos. Their focus is still on the Strigoi, but they wouldn’t mind seeing thing go bad for the Moroi.”

“I see.” I always wondered if she paused to gather her thoughts or if it was simply for effect. “And how exactly did you learn this?”

“That guy I know who used to be with the Warriors. We’re still friendly, and he’s been having doubts about them. He mentioned hearing them talk about finding a missing girl that could cause all sorts of trouble.” Maybe it was wrong to drag Trey into this lie, but I seriously doubted Stanton would interrogate him anytime soon.

“And you assume this is Miss Dragomir?”

“Come on,” I exclaimed. “Who else would it be? Do you know any other Moroi girls? Of course it’s her!”

“Calm down, Miss Sage.” Her voice was flat and untroubled. “There’s no need for theatrics.”

“There’s a need for action! If they might be on to her, then we need to get out of Palm Springs immediately.”

“That,” she said crisply, “is not an option. A lot of planning went into getting her to her current location.”

I didn’t believe that argument for a second. Half our job was doing damage control and adapting to rapidly changing situations. “Yeah? Well, did you also plan on those psycho vampire hunters finding her?”

Stanton ignored the jab. “Do you have any evidence at all that the Warriors actually have concrete data about her? Did your friend supply you with details?”

“No,” I admitted. “But we still need to do something.”

“There’s no ‘we’ here.” Her voice had gone from flat to icy. “You do not decide what we do.”

I nearly protested and then caught myself. Horror set in. What had I just done? My initial intent had been to either get Stanton to take legitimate action or else find out if she might accidentally reveal knowledge of a Warrior connection. I’d thought mentioning Trey would give me valid backup since I could hardly tell her the real reason I feared for Jill. Yet, somehow, I’d gone from a request to a demand. I’d practically yelled an order at her. That wasn’t typical Sydney behavior. That wasn’t typical Alchemist behavior. What had Wade said? You’re leaving a trail of bread crumbs.

Was this because I’d broken the tattoo?

This was no crumb. This was a full loaf. I was on the verge of insubordination, and my mind could suddenly imagine that list Marcus kept warning about, the one that kept track of every suspicious thing I did. Was Stanton already updating that list right now?

I had to fix this, but how? How on earth did I take this back? My mind was racing frantically, and it took several moments for me to calm down and start thinking logically. The mission. Focus on the mission. Stanton would understand that.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said at last. Be calm. Be deferential. “I’m just . . . I’m just so worried about this mission. I saw my dad at the services, you know.” That would be a fact she could check on. “You had to have seen how it was that night I left. How bad things are between us. I . . . I have to make him proud. If things fall apart here, he’ll never forgive me.”

She didn’t respond, so I prayed that meant she was listening intently . . . and believing me.

“I want to do a good job here. I want to fulfill our goals and keep Jill hidden. But there have already been so many complications no one predicted—first Keith and then the Warriors. I just never feel like she’s fully safe now, even with Eddie and Angeline. It eats at me. And—” I was no actress who could muster tears, but I did my best to make my voice crack. “And I never feel safe. I told you, when I asked to go to the services, how overwhelming it is with the Moroi. They’re everywhere—and the dhampirs too. I eat with them. I’m in class with them. Being with other Alchemists this last weekend was a lifesaver. I mean, I’m not trying to dodge my duties, ma’am. I understand we have to make sacrifices. And I’ve gotten better around them, but sometimes the stress is just unbearable—and then when I heard this thing about the Warriors, I cracked. All I could think about was that I might fail. I’m sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t have flipped out on you. I was out of control, and it was unacceptable.”

I cut off my rant and tensed as I waited for her response. Hopefully I’d given her enough to dismiss any thoughts of me being a dissident. Of course, I might have just come off as a totally weak and unstable Alchemist who needed to be pulled from this mission. If that happened . . . well, maybe I’d have to take Marcus up on Mexico.

Her characteristic pause was especially painful this time. “I see,” she said. “Well, I’ll take this all into consideration. This mission is of the utmost importance, believe me. My earlier questioning of your information was not some weakening of our resolve. Your concerns have been heard, and I will decide the best course of action.”

It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but hopefully she would be true to her word. I really, really wanted to believe she was on the up-and-up. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Is there anything else, Miss Sage?”

“No, ma’am. And . . . and I’m sorry ma’am.”

“Your apology is noted.”

Click.

I’d paced while I’d talked and now stood staring at the phone. A gut instinct told me I really had driven Stanton to take some sort of action. The mystery was whether that action would prove beneficial or catastrophic for me.

Falling asleep was difficult after that, and it had nothing to do with Veronica for a change. I was too keyed up, too anxious about what had happened with Marcus and Stanton. I tried to seize that feeling of freedom again, using it to strengthen me. It was only a spark this time, flickering with my new uncertainties, but it was better than nothing.

I fell asleep sometime around three. I had a vague sense of a couple hours passing before I was swept into one of Adrian’s dreams, back in the reception hall. “Finally,” he said. “I almost gave up checking in. I thought you were going to pull an all-nighter.” He’d stopped wearing his suit in these dreams, probably because I always showed up in jeans. Tonight he wore jeans also, along with a plain black T-shirt.

“Me too.” I wrung my hands and began pacing here as well. The nervous energy from my waking self had carried over into the dream. “A lot of stuff’s kind of happened tonight.”

The dream felt real, solid. Adrian was sober. “Didn’t you just get back? How much could’ve happened?”

When I told him, he shook his head in amazement. “Man, Sage. It’s all or nothing with you. Never a dull moment.”

I came to a halt in front of him and leaned against a table. “I know, I know. Do you think I just made a huge mistake? God, maybe Marcus was right, and there was some compulsion forcing me to be loyal in the tattoo. I’m free for one hour and completely go over the edge with my superior.”

“It sounds like you covered your tracks,” he said, though a small frown appeared on his face. “But I would be disappointed if they sent you somewhere less stressful. That seems like it might be the worst-case scenario from everything you said.”

I started laughing, but it was the hysterical kind. “What in the world’s happened to me? I was doing crazy stuff way before Marcus broke the tattoo tonight. Meeting with rebels, chasing evil sorceresses, even buying that dress! Yelling at Stanton is just one more thing on a long list of insanity. It’s just like I said at Pies and Stuff: I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Adrian smiled and clasped my hands, taking a few steps toward me. “Well, first off, I’m the expert in insanity, and this is nothing. And as for who you are, you’re the same beautiful, brave, and ridiculously smart caffeinated fighter you’ve been since the day I met you.” Finally, he put “beautiful” at the top of his list of adjectives. Not that I should have cared.

“Sweet talker,” I scoffed. “You didn’t know anything about me the first time we met.”

“I knew you were beautiful,” he said. “I just hoped for the rest.”

He always got this glint in his eyes when he complimented my looks, like he was seeing so much more than just my actual appearance. It was disorienting and heady . . . but I didn’t mind. And that wasn’t the only thing I suddenly found overwhelming. How had he gotten so close to me without me even realizing it? It was like he had secret stealth abilities. His hands were warm on mine, our fingers locked together. I still had remnants of that earlier joy within me, and being connected to him amplified those feelings. The green of his eyes was as lovely as usual, and I wondered if mine had the same effect on him. There was a little amber mixed with the brown that he had once said looked like gold.

He’s the only one who never tells me to do anything, I realized. Oh, sure, he asked me to do lots of things, often with cajoling and fast talking. But he made no demands on me, not like the Alchemists or Marcus. Even Jill and Angeline tended to preface their requests with, “You have to . . .”

“Speaking of that dress,” he added, “I still haven’t seen it.”

I laughed softly. “You couldn’t handle it.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Is that a challenge, Sage? I can handle a lot.”

“Not if our history is any indication. Each time I wear some moderately attractive dress, you lose it.”

“That’s not exactly true,” he said. “I lose it no matter what you’re wearing. And that red dress was not ‘moderately attractive.’ It was like a piece of heaven here on earth. A red, silky piece of heaven.”

I should’ve rolled my eyes. I should’ve told him I wasn’t here for his personal entertainment. But there was something in the way he was looking at me and something in the way I felt tonight that made me want to see his reaction. Breaking the tattoo hadn’t affected anything between us, but it—and the deeds I’d done this weekend—had left me feeling bold. For the first time, I wanted to take a risk with him, despite my usual set of logical arguments. Besides, there was nothing dangerous in letting him look.

I manipulated the dream the way he’d taught me. A few moments later, the lacy minidress replaced my jeans and blouse. I even summoned the heels, which bumped my height up. I was still nowhere near as tall as him, but the small boost brought our faces closer together.

His eyes widened. Still holding my hands, he took a step back so that he could take in the whole look. There was almost something tangible to the way his gaze swept my body. I could practically feel every place it touched. By the time his eyes reached mine again, my breathing was heavy, and I was acutely aware that there really wasn’t that much clothing between the two of us. Maybe there was something dangerous in letting him look after all.

“A piece of heaven?” I managed to ask.

He slowly shook his head. “No. The other place. The one I’m going to burn in for thinking what I’m thinking.”

He’d moved toward me again. His hands released mine and moved to my waist, and I noticed I wasn’t the only one breathing heavily. He pulled me to him, bringing our bodies together. The world was all heat and electricity, thick with tension that was only one spark away from exploding around us. I was balancing on another precipice, which wasn’t easy to do in heels.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and this time I was the one who drew him closer. “Damn,” he murmured.

“What?” I asked, never taking my eyes off his.

He ran his hands over my hips. “I’m not supposed to kiss you.”

“It’s okay.”

“What is?”

“It’s okay if I kiss you.”