Текст книги "The Fiery Heart"

Автор книги: Richelle Mead

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

To my surprise, Zoe backed down. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be fighting with each other. Today we’re sisters, not just Alchemists. We need to unite against our common enemy.”

“You mean Mom?” I asked incredulously. Zoe nodded in confirmation, and I had to bite my lip on a retort, lest I really did get a fight going.

The restaurant my dad had chosen was exactly what I would’ve expected from him. He had no patience for what he saw as frills and excesses, so any fancy restaurant that played on mystery or romance was out. Yet, despite his pragmatism, he also couldn’t handle a bare‑bones café that would be loud and have questionable cleaning and food standards. So, he’d managed to find a Japanese fine‑dining place adjacent to a hotel that prided itself on minimalism. The decor was stark, with lots of clean lines, but the food and reputation were outstanding.

“Hello, Dad,” I said. He was already at the table when we arrived and didn’t stand up to hug us. Not even Zoe expected that.

“Sydney, Zoe,” he said. Naming me first wasn’t a sign of preference, so much as respecting the birth order. If Carly had been here, he would have named her first. For double efficiency, that was also alphabetical order. A waiter came by to offer us water and tea just then, and my dad handed over the menu. “This is a dinner menu. Please bring us the lunch menu.”

“Lunchtime is over, sir,” the waiter said politely. “We’ve switched menus.”

My dad met him squarely in the eye. “Are you trying to tell me three thirty is dinnertime?”

“No . . .” The waiter glanced helplessly around at the empty restaurant, save for two businessmen drinking at the bar. “It’s not really anytime.”

“Well, in that case, I see no reason I should have to pay dinner prices. Bring me the lunch menu.”

“But lunch ended at two.”

“Then bring me a manager.”

The waiter left and returned quickly–with a lunch menu. I tried not to sink into my seat.

“Now then,” said my dad, supremely proud of himself. “Let’s get food out of the way and get down to business.”

My stomach lurched as I wondered what kind of business he had to take care of exactly. Even without that anxiety, I wasn’t really hungry but made a good faith effort and ordered sushi.

“That’s a small plate,” my dad noted.

The correct words flowed right off my tongue. “It’s also the cheapest. Even on the lunch menu, this place is overpriced. No point in going overboard when eating during business is a social convention anyway. Besides, we’re getting free food at our dorm tonight as part of our tuition.”

He nodded in approval. “Very true. You look like you’ve gained some weight too, so it’s smart to back off.”

I gave him a stiff smile, swallowing the urge to tell him I still fit firmly in a size four. I was just a much healthier‑looking four, rather than a slightly malnourished one. Meanwhile, Zoe–who’d been about to set the menu down–quickly opened it again when she heard him rebuke me. She’d probably planned on ordering tempura, one of her favorite dishes, and now feared my dad’s ire over fried food. I could stomach him making comments about my weight, but if he said anything to her, I was going to have to resist the urge to throw my tea at him. In the end, she ordered what I did, even though I knew she didn’t really like sushi.

Once the waiter left with our orders, my dad took out two manila envelopes and handed us each one. “No point in wasting time. As you can see, I’ve gathered information to help you in your testimony against your mother.”

I had to shut my jaw as I flipped through pages of my mother’s life. College transcripts, job history. There were a number of photographs, including one taken during what looked like a yoga class. I held it up. It showed several students, including my mom, walking out of the studio and carrying their mats.

“What is this?” I asked.

“See that man there?” My dad pointed at one of the guys talking to my mother. “That’s her instructor. She talked to him a lot during her sessions.”

“Well, wouldn’t she if he’s her instructor?”

There was an ugly sneer on my dad’s lips. “Unless there were other reasons.”

“What?”  The picture slipped from my hand. “No. No way. Mom would never have an affair.”

He shrugged. “She wants a divorce, doesn’t she?”

I could’ve named a dozen reasons she wanted one, but I instead opted for neutrality. “Do you have any other proof?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. The insinuation is enough. We just need to make her look unreliable. Dropping out of college helps, as does her sketchy employment history. She’s never held a full‑time job.”

“Because she was taking care of us,” I said. My dad had looked out for our education, but she was the one who handled our day‑to‑day lives, managing the house and hugging us through our injuries.

“Again–not important. There’s enough documentation here to demonstrate what a fickle parental figure she’d be. At the very least, it’ll ensure joint custody, though I’d be surprised if I didn’t get full.”

“Do you have any ins on the legal side?” I asked, again with a forced smile.

He scowled. “No, though not for lack of trying.”

“So they’ll just have to base the case on facts,” I remarked, deadpan.

“Yes. We’ll be fine if you girls do your part.” He paused as the waiter delivered hot towels. “I know I don’t have to tell you how important this is. Zoe is a valuable asset in our cause, which is growing more and more critical each day. The reintroduction of vampire hunters has gotten a lot of attention. We can’t let their chaotic nature ruin what we’ve worked for.”

That was a relief, at least. Most Alchemists found the Warriors of Light to be a primitive group of trigger‑happy rebels, though Marcus had discovered recent evidence that some Alchemists were working with the Warriors. There was also evidence that the Warriors knew about Jill. I was glad my dad was on the side of reason and mainstream Alchemist thought here.

To my surprise, he looked directly at me. “A lot of what we know is a result of your efforts.” It was as close as he could get to a compliment.

“I just did what I had to do,” I told him.

“Between that, uncovering Keith’s crimes, and stomaching that wedding, you’ve caught the attention of many of our higher‑ups.”

Awkward silence fell. Condemnation was more our status quo than praise, and I certainly wasn’t sure how to handle it. Zoe cleared her throat. “I supervised a feeding by myself,” she said proudly. “I mean, not the actual blood drinking part. But Sydney couldn’t make it when the Moroi had to go to Clarence Donahue’s house for a feeding. So I took over.”

My dad jerked his gaze back to me. “Why couldn’t you make it?”

“I had to work on a school project,” I explained.

“I see.” But there was a small frown on his face.

“Sydney’s always working on school projects,” Zoe added. I think she was hurt that her “supervising” role hadn’t received more acknowledgment. “Always gone after school. Always running errands and hanging out with her history teacher.”

“We don’t hang out,” I countered.

“You have coffee together, don’t you?” asked Zoe triumphantly.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not–”

“What subject is this for?” my dad interrupted. “Chemistry?”

Zoe and I answered in unison. “History.”

His frown deepened. “That’s a nonessential subject. All of them are, actually. You’ve already received a superior education.”

“Yes, but keeping my cover is essential,” I pointed out. “Being an exemplary student has a lot of advantages. They give me a lot of freedom, and being able to leave campus after hours to run errands for Ms. Terwilliger means I’m able to get away and help the Moroi if needed without drawing attention. We can’t risk them doing something stupid and creating a scene.”

That seemed to mollify our dad, but Zoe was on the offensive now. “It’s more than that. You and her are friends. You talk about vacations to Greece and Rome.”

Where had this come from? I’d expected to face interrogation from my dad, not her. “So what if we talk sometimes? She’s human. No harm.”

“The harm is you can’t give your full attention to the mission.” There was a hard look on Zoe’s face I didn’t like. “And maybe she’s human, but you certainly have Moroi and dhampir friends.”

Our dad’s eyebrows shot up, but the food arrived just then, giving me time to build a response. He jumped before I could. “What does that mean–Moroi and dhampir friends?”

“Sydney hangs out with them,” Zoe declared. “Does favors for them.”

I fixed her with a hard glare that made her flinch. “It’s my job to oversee them. There’s a fine line of learning how to socialize with them in order to earn their trust and get them to do what I need–something you haven’t picked up on yet. Good God, I had to live  with one! I was ordered to, something you’d never be able to handle, seeing as you freaked out ‘supervising’ that dinner. So don’t judge my style, seeing as you aren’t the one who uncovered Keith, the Warriors, and everything else.”

“Now, now, girls. Don’t fight.” Yet I couldn’t help but notice my dad looked delighted by it. I think he thought competition made us stronger. “You both make excellent points. Zoe, Sydney has demonstrated time and again how loyal she is and how outstandingly she can perform her job. Sydney, Zoe’s right that you shouldn’t get too caught up in this teacher or the Moroi, even if it is part of your cover. There are certain lines that must never, ever be crossed. You saw that with Keith, when he succumbed to making deals with Moroi.”

Zoe and I were cowed for several moments. “Do you know how Keith is?” I asked.

My dad’s features smoothed out. “Yes, he’s been released.”

I was so surprised, I dropped the sushi I’d carefully lifted with my chopsticks. “He has?”

“Yes. He was successfully re‑educated and is now working in Charleston. In an office, of course. He’s certainly not ready for the field. But it’s a relief to all of us that the education took. It doesn’t always, unfortunately. Not even when they reinforce the tattoo.”

The hair stood up on the back of my neck. “Reinforce the tattoo? You mean re‑inking?”

“Somewhat.” He was very careful with his words. “Let’s just say, there are certain modifications to the ink that can help troubled souls like Keith.”

Until Marcus had told me about this, I’d never heard anyone give voice to it. “Ink with stronger compulsion for obedience and group loyalty?”

My dad’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?” he demanded.

“I’ve heard rumors.” I prayed he wouldn’t demand details but was fully prepared to lie. His gaze weighed me for several long moments before he finally decided not to press me for more.

“It’s an ugly step,” he said at last. “And it relies on getting help from them.  But it’s necessary. People like Keith are a danger not just to us, but to all of humanity. Maybe the Moroi aren’t as bad as the Strigoi, but they aren’t natural. They aren’t part of the order of this world, and we must keep their influence away from our fellow man. It’s our duty. Our divine duty. Anyone who can’t understand the balance we maintain with these monsters hurts the cause. Yes, it took a lot of intervention, but Keith has been reclaimed. We’ve saved his soul. You did, Sydney.” Inspiration lit my dad’s face. “You should talk to him sometime. You should see the good you’ve done.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, I–”

“After dinner,” my dad said decisively. “We’ll call him then.”

A rebellious part of me wanted to ask, “Aren’t we having lunch?” But I bit my tongue. I didn’t really feel like talking anymore. Thankfully, Zoe was still gung ho to get his attention and talked enough for both of us. And as the meal wound down, it drifted back to the court hearing. I nodded along mechanically.

“I’m glad I can count on you two,” he said as we stood up to leave. “Not that I doubted–but after Carly, well. It’s hard to say.”

“What about Carly?” I asked quickly. I noticed he hadn’t left a tip, and I discreetly tossed cash on the table as we walked away.

He scowled. “She’s going to speak on behalf of your mother. But don’t worry. It won’t be enough.”

Joy filled me, and I struggled to keep it off my face. Carly was standing up to our dad! Admittedly, she didn’t face the same pressures Zoe and I did, but I was so proud of my older sister. She was usually the timid one in the family. For her to make this stand for our mother meant she’d come a long way. I wondered if she’d ever have the courage to tell how Keith had raped her. This was a start.

Speaking of Keith . . . my father was determined to show me the “good” I’d done, no matter how much I assured him it wasn’t necessary. When we got to the parking lot, he made a couple of calls to get him through to Keith, and–worst of all–used the video feature. I silently begged for Keith to be doing something, anything, that would keep him away. No luck. After a minute or so, my dad finally got through, and Keith’s face appeared on the phone’s screen. Zoe and I crowded on each side of my dad.

“Mr. Sage,” said Keith. His voice was flat. “It’s so nice to hear from you.”

I gasped in spite of myself. Keith had once been arrogant and obnoxious. In re‑education, he’d been frantic and terrified. Now . . . there was nothing. He was blank. An automaton. One of his eyes was glass, but if I hadn’t known which one, I never would have been able to tell now.

“I have Sydney and Zoe here,” my dad explained. “Sydney’s been worried about you.”

“Hello, Sydney.” I think he smiled, but it was hard to tell. “I’ve been wanting to thank you. I was sick, and now I’m better. I let myself get deceived by those creatures of evil. If not for you, I’d have lost my soul.”

My tongue felt thick. “That . . . that’s great, Keith. How is everything else? Outside Alchemist work?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Um, I don’t know. Seen any good movies? Girlfriend?” I knew this was probably frivolous to my dad. “Are you happy?”

Keith barely even blinked. “My happiness doesn’t matter. Only the work does. That and continuing to do penance.”

“For . . . for what? For your moneymaking scheme with Clarence? I mean, it was bad . . . but it could’ve been worse.” I had no idea why I was trying to defend him to himself, but there was just something deeply unsettling about all this talk of souls and penance–especially when I knew the Alchemists’ real problem wasn’t the side effects of Keith’s scheme so much as the fact that he’d simply worked with a Moroi. “And you just said you were better.”

“Better, but not cured.” The tone of his voice sent chills through me. “Those who collaborate with those creatures for anything but the greater good have a long path to redemption, one I’m ready to walk. I have sinned against my own kind and let my soul become corrupted. I am ready to have the darkness purged.”

“You sound legitimately sorry,” I said weakly. “I mean, that’s good, right? That’s got to mean something.”

“I am ready to have the darkness purged,” he repeated. It was hard to say if he knew he was even talking to me. He sounded like he was reciting something. Something he’d recited many, many times, in fact.

Those who collaborate with those creatures for anything but the greater good have a long path to redemption.  The impact of those words wasn’t lost on me. I was doing a lot more than collaborating with Adrian. Was this what I risked? This . . . deadness? The last time I’d seen Keith, he’d been screaming for release from the Alchemists. It had been terrible, yet at the same time, there’d been something real  to it. A fight. A fire within him. There was nothing now. Keith had been obnoxious and selfish, but he had also always been outgoing and full of personality–even if it was an annoying one. How did he go from cocky to . . . this? What had to be done to him to strip him of all that he was, to get him to agree to whatever he was told?

The tattoo,  I realized. They must have re‑inked him with some pretty serious compulsion. And yet . . . some gut instinct told me there was more. The Alchemist ink could make you obey simple commands and make you susceptible to suggestions. This complete personality reversal? That required greater intervention. I was seeing what had to be a combination of a reinforced tattoo and whatever they did in re‑education.

I was also seeing what my fate might be if caught.

“Keith,” I managed at last. “How exactly are you purging that darkness?”

“It’s time to go,” my father suddenly interrupted. “We’re very happy to see you doing well, Keith, and will talk to you later.”

Keith told us goodbye, and we headed out toward our respective cars. Zoe dared a quick, controlled hug to our dad before getting in Quicksilver. I turned to the driver’s door, but he caught hold of my hand. I didn’t resist because I was still numbed by what I’d just witnessed.

“Sydney,” he said, eyes cold. “You truly have done outstanding work. I’m glad Zoe’s here to learn from you. She’s headstrong and untried but will eventually learn. And she’s right about one thing–don’t get distracted. Even if it’s just this teacher of yours. There may be a time you can be allowed some recreation. It’d certainly be nice for you to continue talking to that young and upstanding Ian Jansen. But now, even a seemingly innocent social interaction–with a human–is dangerous. You must stay focused on your task. And I know I don’t have to tell you about friendships with the Moroi and dhampirs.”

“Of course not, sir.” I wanted to gag.

He gave me what passed for a smile with him and then turned without another word. I drove Zoe back to Amberwood, and awkwardness left over from our earlier spat lingered. As much I’d disliked her selling me out to our dad, I still loved her . . . and couldn’t entirely blame her. He was an intimidating person, one who excelled at making you feel inadequate. I’d had plenty of experience with it.

“Hey,” I said, noticing we were passing the ice cream place she and I had gone to last week. “You up for some praline pecan?”

Zoe stared straight ahead without even looking at it. “There’s a lot of fat and sugar in that, Sydney.” Silence fell for a few moments. “Maybe I should stop having driving lessons with Eddie.”

“Is he a bad teacher? Has he done anything, um, sinister?”

“No . . .” The conflict in her voice was nearly palpable. “But he’s still one of them. You heard what Dad said . . . what Keith said. No collaboration.”

“It’s not collaboration. It’s business,” I said pragmatically. “What if there’s an emergency, and you have to drive? We need you prepared. It’s for the greater good.”

Her face relaxed. “I suppose you’re right.”

She was quiet again after that, giving my thoughts ample opportunity to spiral around as I contemplated possible consequences of today’s meal. Maybe my sterling record still kept me untouchable, but Zoe had tattled on some of my other activities. Were my dad’s suspicions raised? It was hard to say, but I would’ve preferred he had no reason to think twice about me.

And of course, I was still troubled by Keith. His face haunted me. What had they done to him? What had he endured in re‑education? And how big a role had re‑inking played? Those questions tumbled in my mind over and over, and when we reached the school, I made a decision. It was a difficult one, and one that wouldn’t necessarily solve all my problems. But I had to act. Seeing Keith had driven home the desperation of my situation.

I had to make the ink. And I had to inject myself with it.

There was no other way. I had to start making preparations to find out if the ink would protect against Alchemist mental manipulation. One of Marcus’s recruits would’ve been a better guinea pig, but there was no time to get one. Inez had said my magic use might muddle the results, but what else could I do? I had no clean test subject, and doing nothing was unacceptable. If there was a way to prevent others–and myself–from turning into Keith, I had to find it. This was my starting point, and I refused to waste another moment.

After the dorm’s dinner, when Zoe went off to a study group, I prepared to go to Ms. Terwilliger’s house after first calling her with a very surprising request. Maybe it was dangerous running out on Zoe after the earlier lecture, but I would claim it was a mandatory assignment if she questioned me later. As I was walking toward the student parking lot, I ran into Trey. He looked like he was on his way to work.

“Yo, Melbourne,” he said, coming to a stop beside me. “I have to ask you something. Angeline’s been hanging out with that dhampir. I just saw them walking off together. Is something going on with them?”

“Which dhampir?” I asked.

“The one with the fake British accent.”

“I don’t think it’s fake.”

“Well, whatever.” Even I could read the jealousy in Trey’s features. “What’s up with them?”

“Pretty sure there’s nothing.”

“Then why are they always together?”

Because she’s trying to get over you,  I thought. “I think they’re practicing or something. You know. Dhampir stuff.” He didn’t look convinced. “Maybe instead of stalking her, you should go out with someone else.”

He sighed. “You don’t think I’ve tried? How can anyone compare? You might not believe this, but there is no one  like her at this school.”

“Oh, I believe it,” I said, thinking back to the time Angeline had forgotten her locker’s combination and tried to get into it with an axe. No one was really sure where she’d gotten it from.

“Is she going to the dance with anyone?”

“What dance?”

He pointed to a sign hanging in the dorm’s window that read VALENTINE’S DANCE. “Honestly, how do you miss this stuff?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t think she’ll go with Neil, do you?”

I thought about Neil’s indifference and focus on duty. “No. I’m pretty sure that won’t happen.”

He put his hands in his pockets and stared off morosely. I waited for some further comment, but when none came, I felt my eyes widen in surprise. “Is it really that big a deal? Her going to do the dance with someone?”

“She’s the big deal,” he said, turning back to face me. “I think . . . I think I may have made a mistake with her. I thought I wanted the Warriors to accept me. But do I? What I really want is to wipe out evil vampires and right wrongs. That kind of thing. I don’t need them to do that. I can think for myself and find a way to do that, maybe a way that involves Angeline.”

I found myself unexpectedly riveted, mostly because what he was suggesting echoed some of my own desires so closely. “So, what then? You’re going to get back together?”

“I don’t know. I need time to think about how I can make this all work. And I need her not to go out with Neil or any other guy in the meantime.” He shot me a wry look. “I know, I know. That sounds incredibly sexist, wanting her to put her life on hold so I  can figure out what I want. But this isn’t exactly a typical situation we’re in.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” I muttered. More silence fell between us, and two revelations hit me. One was that as crazy as Trey and Angeline seemed together, I wanted them to work. The second was that I suddenly had an opportunity before me. “I’ll help you. I’ll help Angeline stay single.”

“What?” He scrutinized me closely. “You can do that?”

“Sure,” I said. It was an easy thing to promise, seeing as she was still hung up on him and her alleged rebound was completely disinterested, but Trey didn’t know that. A smile broke out over his face–then faltered.

“What do you want in return?” he asked cautiously.

“What makes you think I want anything?”

“You’re an Alchemist.” Again, he couldn’t quite manage the smile. “Alchemists don’t give things away.”

“Friends do,” I said, wondering if I should feel hurt at the insinuation or ashamed that he was right in this case. “I’ll help you with Angeline. But I need a favor–a big one and one that you, as a friend, are going to have to trust me on.”

He considered for several moments. “Go on.”

Excitement fluttered in my chest, and I attempted to sound calm and trustworthy. “How would you like another tattoo? One that no one can see?”

He stared in astonishment. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m serious. There’s something I’m trying to do, kind of a side project, that could help a lot of people. Human people. If you could do this, it would be huge.”

More than huge. Trey would be the perfect test subject.

“When you and tattoos are involved, they aren’t just decorative,” he reminded me. It was true. When I’d first come to Amberwood, I’d discovered that Keith was running an illicit ring of magical, performance‑enhancing tattoos. It was what had landed him in trouble with the Alchemists. Trey had seen the dire side effects of Keith’s handiwork.

“No, but this one’s not going to control you. If it works, it’ll actually protect you from mind control.”

His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t even know I was in danger of that. And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then nothing will happen. You’ll just have had the chance to prove how tough you are by enduring another tattoo.” Well, I was pretty sure that nothing would happen. Ninety‑nine percent sure. No need to mention the one percent. “Although . . . you’ll eventually need another tattoo to prove it works.”

“Sydney–”

“Trey, please.” I caught hold of his arm. “I can’t tell you everything, but trust me when I say this is really important. I hope you know me well enough to know I wouldn’t ask something like this casually.” His face confirmed that. “You said you wanted to right wrongs? Believe me, this’ll do it. And you’ll get help with Angeline.”

“So you won’t help me if I don’t do this for you?”

I hesitated, and some of my vigor faded. There was no way I could blackmail him. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ll still help keep her single, no matter what you decide.”

He weighed me with his dark eyes for several long moments. “I may regret this, but okay. We don’t always share the same philosophies, but when you say you’re going to help people, you mean it. When is this going down?”

“I guess after you get off work. Isn’t that where you’re going?” I disliked the delay but would take what I could get to have a solid test subject.

“Nah. Just picking up my paycheck.”

Luckier and luckier. “Can you go to Ms. Terwilliger’s after that? I’ll text you her address, and she’ll take care of curfew.”

“This is going down at Ms. T’s?”

“Yeah. You can meet her boyfriend. He has an eye patch.”

Trey mulled this over. “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place? I’m so there.”

I sent him her address and then headed off to my own car. Once I was on the road, I called Adrian.

“How’d it go with the old man?” he asked.

“Not great,” I said. “I’m heading over to Ms. Terwilliger’s place and need you to meet me there.”

“Okay,” he said unhesitatingly. “Do I get a heads‑up why?”

“I found a guinea pig.”

CHAPTER 13

ADRIAN

JACKIE’S FACE TOLD ME THAT THIS WAS NO JOKE.

“Come in,” she said, opening her front door and waving me forward. “I hope to God you understand what’s going on.”

“A little,” I said, not entirely sure if that was an exaggeration. Sydney had been clear enough on the phone that it was time to test out her ink, but it was hard for me to imagine her having jumped to this extreme. The last I’d known, she’d been content to wait for Marcus and let him find a guinea pig. If she was suddenly ready to do some home tattooing–and I could only assume it was on herself–something pretty serious must have happened.

Although Jackie had traded up to a modern house when her bungalow burned down, the inside of her new home looked pretty much identical to the old one. I stepped past a pile of books on crystal healing and bent down to pat a fluffy white cat rubbing against my ankle in greeting. A few moments later, Sydney emerged from a hallway, wringing her hands. When she saw me, she ran forward and threw herself into my arms. Jackie politely averted her eyes and pretended to be interested in straightening some candles. We’d never explicitly said anything about our relationship around her, but we did tend to relax in her presence, and I’d learned two important things about Jaclyn Terwilliger. One was that she wasn’t stupid. The other was that she didn’t judge.

“What happened?” I asked Sydney. “Your dad?” It was the only thing that could have brought about this change of heart.

She nodded. “Him. And Keith.”

“Keith? He was there?”

“No. Not exactly. Dad called him. Video call.” She pulled away and began pacing around. “It was awful. What they did to him. He wasn’t even human. He was a robot. No feelings. No free thought. They did it to him in re‑education–and not with just whatever training or counseling they do. They had to have also used the ink Marcus was talking about that had stronger compulsion, the kind that encourages loyalty. Dad says it doesn’t always work that strongly on everyone . . . but God. It worked on him. On Keith.”

She was rambling, and Sydney wasn’t the kind of person who rambled, which made all of this that much more disturbing. There was a haunted look in her eyes, and I wanted to draw her to me again. Reluctantly, I held back. Jackie might have a neutral attitude about our relationship, but I wasn’t going to flaunt things.

“What then?” I demanded. “Did they threaten to do the same thing to you?” Something told me that if they had, she wouldn’t be free to be standing here right now.

She shook her head. “No, my dad was actually going on and on about how awesome I am–well, in his way. He didn’t exactly use the word ‘awesome.’ It’s not in his vocabulary. Zoe was the one who kept calling me out! Making a big deal out of how well I get along with everyone and how I spend so much time with you.” She nodded toward Jackie, who arched an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware you’d shared our goings‑on with your, uh, associates.”

Sydney gave a harsh laugh. “What, the magic? No. Of course not. But it doesn’t even take that to set them off. I got scolded just for being a dedicated academic assistant because it might distract me from Alchemist priorities.”

Now I was incredulous. “They’d send you to re‑education for that?”

“No. But it’s all bread crumbs, as Marcus would say. It draws attention to me, and if they ever find out what I’ve done . . . they could try to re‑ink me too, and I can’t let them. I won’t  let them. I won’t become like Keith.”