The Indigo Spell

Jill’s face fell. Even Eddie looked disappointed. “I figured,” she said. “I just hoped . . . that is, I miss my mom so much.”

“We can probably get a message to her,” I said gently.

I knew that was no substitute for the real thing. I was able to make occasional phone calls to my own mom, and hearing her voice was a million times better than any email could be. I even got to talk to my older sister, Carly sometimes, which always cheered me up since she was so bright and funny. My younger sister, Zoe . . . well, she was a different story. She wouldn’t take my calls. She’d nearly been initiated into the Alchemists—to take on this mission, in fact—when I’d stolen it from her. I’d done it to protect her from committing to the Alchemists so young, but she’d seen it as an insult.

Looking at Jill’s sad face, I felt my heart clench. She had been through so much. Her new royal status. Targeted by assassins. Fitting in to a human school. Her disastrous and deadly romances. And now enduring Eddie and Angeline. She handled it all with remarkable strength, always resolutely going through with what she had to do even if she didn’t want to do it. Lissa was praised for being such an exemplary queen, but there was a regality and strength to Jill as well that many underestimated. Glancing up, I caught a spark in Eddie’s eyes as he too seemed to recognize and admire that about her.

After dinner, I took them back to Amberwood and was pleased to see that my car was in perfect shape. I drove a brown Subaru named Latte, and Eddie was the only other person I trusted behind the wheel. I dropped him off at the boys’ dorm and then took Angeline and Jill back to ours. As we were walking in the door, I caught sight of Mrs. Santos, a teacher I knew by reputation.

“You guys go ahead,” I told Jill and Angeline. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They left, and I walked across the lobby, waiting patiently for Mrs. Santos to finish a discussion with our dorm matron, Mrs. Weathers. When Mrs. Santos started to turn around and leave, I caught her attention.

“Mrs. Santos? I’m Sydney Melrose. I wondered if I could—”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I know who you are, dear. Ms. Terwilliger raves about you all the time at our department meetings.” Mrs. Santos was a kindly-looking woman with silver and black hair. Rumor had it she’d be retiring soon.

I flushed a little at the praise. “Thank you, ma’am.” She and Ms. Terwilliger were both history teachers, though Mrs. Santos’s focus was on American history, not world. “Do you have a minute? I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

We stepped off to the side of the lobby, out of the incoming and outgoing dorm traffic. “You know a lot about local history, right? Southern California?”

Mrs. Santos nodded. “I was born and raised here.”

“I’m interested in nontraditional architecture in the Los Angeles area,” I told her, the lie rolling easily off my lips. I’d thought about this in advance. “That is, non-Southwest styles. Do you know any neighborhoods like that? I’d heard there were some Victorian ones.”

She brightened. “Oh, yes. Absolutely. Fascinating subject. Victorian, Cape Cod, Colonial . . . there are all sorts. I don’t have all the information on me, but I could email you when I get home tonight. There are several I know off the top of my head, and I know a historian who could help you with others.”

“That’d be great, ma’am. Thank you so much.”

“Always happy to help a star pupil.” She winked as she started to walk away. “Maybe next semester you’ll do an independent study with me. Provided you can tear yourself away from Ms. Terwilliger.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said.

As soon as she was gone, I texted Ms. Terwilliger. Mrs. Santos is going to tell me about historical neighborhoods. The response came quickly: Excellent. Come over right now. I scowled as I typed back: I just got here. Haven’t even been in my room. To which she replied: Then you can get here that much faster.

Maybe that was true, but I still took the time to put my suitcase back in my room and change out of my travel clothes. Ms. Terwilliger lived pretty close to the school and looked as though she’d been pacing in circles when I arrived at her house.

“Finally,” she said.

I glanced at the time. “It’s only been fifteen minutes.”

She shook her head and again wore the same grim expression she’d had out in the desert. “Even that might be too much. Follow me.”

Ms. Terwilliger’s home was a little bungalow that could have doubled as a New Age store or possibly a cat shelter. The level of clutter set my teeth on edge. Spell books, incense, statues, crystals, and all sorts of other magical items sat in piles in all rooms of the house. Only her workshop, the room she led me to, was neat and orderly—even to levels I approved of. Everything was clean and organized, to the point of being labeled and alphabetized. A large worktable sat in the center of the room, completely cleared off, save for a stunning necklace I’d never seen before. The chain was made of intricate gold loops, and the pendant was a deep red cabochon stone in a lacy gold setting.

“Garnet?” I asked.

“Very good,” she said, lifting the necklace. The candlelight in the room seemed to make every part of it glitter.

“It’s lovely,” I said.

She held it out to me. “It’s for you.”

I stepped back uneasily. “For . . . me? I . . . I mean, thank you, but I can’t accept a gift like that.”

“It’s not a gift,” she said. “It’s a necessity. One that might save your life. Take it and put it on.”

I refused to touch it. “It’s magical, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said. “And don’t give me that look. It’s no different from any of the charms you’ve made for yourself.”

“Except that anything you’d make . . .” I swallowed as I stared into the depths of that bloodred jewel. “It’s going to be a lot more powerful than anything I can create.”

“That’s exactly the point. Now here.” She thrust it so close to me that it nearly swung out and hit me in the face.

Steeling myself, I reached out and took it from her. Nothing happened. No smoke or sparks. No searing pain. Seeing her expectant look, I fastened it around my neck, letting the garnet lie next to my cross.

She sighed, her relief nearly palpable. “Just as I’d hoped.”

“What?” I asked. Even if I sensed nothing special about it, the garnet felt heavy around my neck.

“It’s masking your magical ability,” she said. “No one who meets you should be able to tell that you’re a magic user.”

“I’m not a magic user,” I reminded her sharply. “I’m an Alchemist.”

A small flicker of a smile played over her lips. “Of course you are—one who uses magic. And to a particularly powerful person, that would be obvious. Magic leaves a mark on your blood that permeates your whole body.”

“What?” I couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d said I’d just contracted a deadly disease. “You never told me that before!”

“It wasn’t important,” she said with a small shrug. “Until now. I need you hidden. Do not take that off. Ever.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Ma’am, I don’t understand.”

“All will be revealed in time—”

“No,” I said. At that moment, I could have been talking to Stanton or any of the countless others who’d used me and fed me pieces of information throughout my life. “It will be revealed now. If you’ve gotten me into something dangerous, then you either need to get me out of it or tell me how to.”

Ms. Terwilliger stared at me for several quiet moments. A gray tabby cat rubbed up against my legs, ruining the seriousness of the moment. “You’re right,” she said at last. “I do owe you an explanation. Have a seat.”

I sat down on one of the stools by the table, and she sat opposite me. She clasped her hands together in front of her and seemed to be having a hard time gathering her thoughts. I had to force myself to stay calm and patient. Otherwise, the panic that had been gnawing at me since the desert would completely consume me.

“You remember that woman you saw in the picture?” she asked at last.

“Your sister.”

Ms. Terwilliger nodded. “Veronica. She’s ten years older than me and looks half my age, as you could undoubtedly tell. Now, it isn’t difficult to create an illusion. If I wanted to appear young and beautiful, I could—emphasis on appear. But Veronica? She’s actually managed to make her body young and vibrant. It’s an advanced, insidious kind of magic. You can’t defy age like that without making some sacrifices.” She frowned, and my heart pounded. Creating youth made all my Alchemist sensibilities reel. It was nearly as bad as Strigoi immortality, maybe worse if she was talking about a human doing it. That kind of twisted magic had no place in this world. Her next words drove home the wrongness of it all. “Or, in her case, sacrificing others.”

Sacrifice. The very word seemed to poison the air. She stood up and walked over to a shelf, producing a newspaper clipping. Wordlessly, she handed it to me. It was a recent article, from three days ago, talking about a nineteen-year-old UCLA student who’d been found comatose in her dorm room. No one knew what had caused it, and the girl was hospitalized with no indication of when or if she’d wake up.

“What is this?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

I inspected the article more closely, especially the picture it contained. At first, I wondered why the paper would show a sleeping old woman. Then, reading the fine print, I learned that the coma victim also displayed some unexplained physical symptoms: gray-streaked hair and dry, cracked skin. Doctors were currently investigating rare diseases. I cringed, unable to believe what I saw. She was hideous, and I couldn’t look at her for very long.

And just like that, I suddenly understood. Veronica wasn’t sacrificing victims with knives and stone altars. She was conducting some kind of perverse magic on these girls that bent the rules of nature, putting them in this hideous state. My stomach twisted, and I gripped the table for support.

“This girl was one of Veronica’s victims,” confirmed Ms. Terwilliger. “That’s how she maintains her youth and beauty—by taking it from others. When I read this, I thought—almost hoped—some other magic user was doing it. Not that I’d wish this on anyone. Your scrying spell confirmed she was in the area, however, which means it’s my responsibility to deal with her.”

I dared a look down at the article again and felt that nausea well up again. The girl was nineteen. What would it be like to have the life sucked out of you at so young an age? Maybe the coma was a blessing. And how corrupt and twisted would you have to be to do that to someone?

I didn’t know how exactly Ms. Terwilliger would “deal with” her sister and wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. And yet, if Veronica really was doing things like this to innocents, then yes, someone like Ms. Terwilliger needed to stop her. A magical attack of this magnitude was one of the most terrible things I could imagine. It brought back all my ingrained fears about the wrongness of magic. How could I justify using it when it was capable of such horror? Old Alchemist lessons came back to me: Part of what makes the Moroi particularly dangerous is their ability to work magic. No one should be able to twist the world in that way It’s wrong and can easily run out of control.

I tuned back into the present. “How do I fit into this, ma’am? I already figured out where she is. Why am I in danger?”

“Sydney,” Mrs. Terwilliger said, looking at me strangely. “There are few young women out there with your abilities. Along with youth and beauty, she intends to suck someone’s magic away and use it to make herself that much more powerful. You, my dear, would be the ultimate coup for her.”

“She’s like Strigoi,” I murmured, unable to repress a shiver. Although those undead vampires could feast on anyone, they preferred Moroi because they had magic in their blood. Drinking Moroi blood made Strigoi more powerful, and a chilling thought suddenly hit me. “Practically a human vampire.”

“Something like that,” Ms. Terwilliger agreed. “This amulet should hide your power, even from someone as strong as her. She shouldn’t be able to find you.”

A calico cat jumped up on the table, and I ran a hand over her sleek fur, taking comfort in the small contact. “The fact that you keep saying ‘should’ makes me a little nervous. Why would she even come looking in Palm Springs? Does she know about me yet?”

“No. But she knows I’m here, and she may check on me once in a while—so I need to hide you in case she does. I’m in a bind, however, because I need to find her but can’t actively do the hunting. If she finds out I’m investigating, she’ll know that I know she’s here. I can’t alert her. If I have the element of surprise on my side, I’m more likely to stop her.” She frowned. “I’m honestly surprised she would come so close to me in California at all. Regardless, I need to keep a low profile until it’s time to strike.”

Ms. Terwilliger looked at me meaningfully, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I began to put together what she was saying. “You want me to hunt her.”

“It’s not hunting so much as gathering some data. You’re the only one I can trust to do this. She and I can sense each other if we’re close, no matter how much we try to hide our magic. I know this is going to sound shocking, but I actually think it’d be best if you hunted her—even if you’re the one she’s after. You’re one of the few I can trust completely and you’re resourceful enough to pull something like this off.”

“But I’d be putting myself out there. You just said I’d be a big catch for her.” The twists and turns here were mindboggling.

“Yes. Which is why I gave you the amulet. She won’t sense your magic, and if you’re cautious in your investigation, she should have no reason to notice you.”

I still wasn’t following the logic here. “But why me? You have a coven. If you can’t do it yourself, then there must be someone else—a stronger witch—who can do it.”

“Two reasons,” she said. “One is that you have excellent investigative skills—more so than others older than you. You’re intelligent and resourceful. The other reason . . . well, if another witch goes after her, she might very well kill Veronica.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” I didn’t like violence and killing by any means, but this might be a case where it was justified, if it could save other lives. “You said you were going to ‘take care of her.’”

“If I have no choice . . . if I must kill her, then I will.” She looked dejected, and I had a moment of empathy. I loved my two sisters. What would I do if I was ever in a deadly conflict with one of them? Of course, it was hard to imagine Zoe or Carly committing this kind of atrocity. “However, there are other ways of neutralizing and subduing a magic user. If there’s any way—any way at all—I can do that, I will. My coven sisters won’t feel that way, which is why I need your help.”

“I can’t.” I pushed the stool back and stood up, nearly stepping on a cat in the process. “There must be some other way you can do this. You know I’m already bogged down in supernatural affairs.” I actually couldn’t bring myself to admit the real reason I wanted to dodge this. It was about more than just risking my life. So far, all my magical interactions had been with Ms. Terwilliger. If I signed on for this, I would be plunging into the world of witches, something I’d sworn I would never do.

Ms. Terwilliger tapped the article, and her voice was quiet when she spoke. “Could you let this happen to other girls, knowing there’s a way you could stop it? I’ve never heard of any of her victims waking up. The way this spell works, Veronica needs to renew it every few years, and it requires five victims within one month. She did this once before, and it caught me off guard. This time, we have warning. Four more people could suffer this fate. Do you want that?”

There it was. She’d called me on the other part that had been nagging me because she knew me too well. I couldn’t let innocents suffer, not even if it meant risking myself or facing the fears that haunted me. If I could stop this, I had to. No one deserved the fate of that girl in the paper. “Of course not.”

“And let’s not forget that you could soon be one of her victims.”

I touched the garnet. “You said I’m hidden.”

“You are, for now. And I hope against all hope you’ll stay that way.” I’d never seen her so grim before, and it was hard to watch. I was used to her prattling, bumbling, no-nonsense nature. “But here’s something I’ve never told you about how magic users sense each other.”

Something I’d learned over the years: it was never a good thing when people said, “Here’s something I never told you. . . .” I braced myself.

“Untrained magic users have a particular feel that’s unique from the more experienced,” she explained. “There’s a oh, wild-ness about the magic that surrounds you. It’s easy for advanced witches to sense. My coven keeps track of novice magic users, but those are tightly guarded secrets. Veronica won’t have access to those names, but there are spells she can use that can pick up on some of that untamed magic if it’s near her. It’s how she probably found this poor girl.” Ms. Terwilliger nodded toward the article.

The idea of me having some “wild” magical aura was as shocking as her saying I had magic in my blood.

“When she absorbs a victim,” Ms. Terwilliger continued, “she gets a burst of that wildness. It fades quickly, but when she possesses it, it can briefly enhance her ability to scry for another untrained victim. The more victims she takes, the stronger that ability will grow. There’s a chance,” Ms. Terwilliger said gravely, “that it could be enough to break apart the garnet. I don’t know.” She spread out her hands.

“So you’re saying . . . with each victim she attacks, the chance that she’ll find me increases.”

“Yes.”

“All right. I’ll help you hunt for her.” I shoved all my fears and doubts aside. The stakes were too high. My life, the other girls . . . Veronica had to be stopped for all our sakes. Someone like her couldn’t be allowed to go on like this.

“There’s more,” added Ms. Terwilliger.

Really?

“More than hunting an evil witch who wants to drain me of my life and power?”

“If we can stop Veronica from finding less powerful victims, we can save their lives and limit her ability to find you.” She produced a small velvet bag and emptied it out onto the table. Several small agate circles fell out. “These are charms that have some ability to mask magic. Not as strong as the garnet—that would take too long. But they’re a quick fix that might save some of these other girls’ lives.”

I knew where this was going. “And you want me to deliver them.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m giving you some very difficult tasks here.”

This was getting worse and worse. “Difficult? That’s an understatement. And putting aside the fact that you want me to find a woman who could suck my life away there’s also the very small detail that the Alchemists would flip out if they knew I was involved with any of this.”

Ms. Terwilliger didn’t answer right away. She just watched me. A black cat jumped up beside her and joined in the staring. Its yellow-eyed gaze seemed to say Do the right thing.

“Where do I start?” I asked finally. “Finding that neighborhood is part of it, right?”

“Yes. And I’ll tell you where to find her potential victims, if you’ll do the legwork of warning them. My coven keeps track of them. They’ll be girls very much like you, ones with power who refuse to train and have no mentor to look after them. Once we have a clear fix on Veronica herself . . .” Ms. Terwilliger’s eyes hardened. “Well, then. That’s when I’ll step in.”

Once more, I wondered if I really wanted to know what that entailed.

A moment later, she added, “Oh, and I thought it would be a good idea to obscure your appearance as well.”

I brightened. I couldn’t explain it, but somehow, that made me feel immensely better. “There are a lot of spells for that, right?” I’d seen a number of them in my studies. Even if I had to use magic, it was better to at least look different.

“Yes. . . .” She drummed her fingers against the table. “But the amulet might not be able to hide you wearing an ‘active’ spell, which would then defeat the whole purpose. What I was actually hoping was that your ‘brother’ Adrian might be able to help.”

My legs felt weak, and I sat back down. “Why on earth should Adrian be involved in this?”

“Well, he seems like he’d do anything for you.” I eyed her, wondering if there was a double meaning in that. Her gaze was far away, her thoughts turned inward. She’d meant her words honestly. “Veronica wouldn’t be able to detect vampire magic. His power . . . that spirit element he was telling me about . . . it can confuse the mind, right? Affect what others can see?”

“Yes. . . .”

She focused on me again, nodding in satisfaction. “If he could accompany you, help muddle whoever meets you . . . well, that would offer an extra level of protection.”

I still didn’t know what all I’d be doing to hunt Ms. Terwilliger’s sister, but it sounded like, at the very least, there’d be a drive to Los Angeles in my future. Me, trapped in another small space with Adrian while he continued with that infuriating “loving from afar.” I was so caught up in the emotional turmoil that idea caused that it took me a moment to realize the larger issue I was letting myself get sucked into.

“Do you realize what you’re asking?” I said quietly. I touched the garnet again. “To be a part of this, you’re asking me to expose myself to both human magic and vampire magic. Everything I try to avoid.”

Ms. Terwilliger snorted, and for the first time tonight, I saw a return of her usual amused attitude. “Unless I’m mistaken, you’ve been exposing yourself to both kinds of magic for some time now. So, it can’t go against your beliefs that much.” She paused meaningfully. “If anything, it seems like it goes against the Alchemists’ beliefs.”

“The Alchemists’ beliefs are my beliefs,” I said quickly.

She arched an eyebrow. “Are they? I would hope your beliefs would be your beliefs.”

I’d never thought about it that way before, but I suddenly hoped desperately that her words were true.

\I FOLLOWED MS. TERWILLIGER’S instructions diligently. I never took the garnet off, not even when I slept or showered. When school started the next morning, I wore it under my shirt to avoid any questions. It didn’t exactly scream “magical amulet,” but it was certainly conspicuous. To my surprise, Ms. Terwilliger wasn’t in her first-period history class, making me wonder if she was doing some investigating of her own.
“Ms. T on some secret mission?”

I flinched and realized I’d been lost in my own thoughts. I turned and found Trey Juarez kneeling by my desk. Class hadn’t started yet, and a confused-looking substitute teacher was trying to make sense of the chaos of Ms. Terwilliger’s desk. Trey grinned at my surprise.

“Wh-what?” I asked. Had he somehow found out about Veronica? I tried to keep cool. “What makes you say that?”

“I was just joking,” he said. “This is the second year I’ve had her, and she’s never missed a day.” He gave me a puzzled look. “Unless you really do know something I don’t?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Trey scrutinized me a few moments. We were good friends here at Amberwood, with only one teeny-tiny problem hanging between us.

His family was tied to the Warriors of Light.

Last month, the Warriors had tried to kill Sonya in a barbaric execution ritual. Trey had been one of the contenders for the “honor” of killing her, though he’d thrown the match at the last minute. I’d tried to appeal to the Warriors to release Sonya, but they hadn’t listened. She and I were both saved when a raiding party of dhampirs showed up and defeated the Warriors. Stanton had helped orchestrate that raid—but hadn’t bothered to fill me in that I was being used as a distraction. It was part of what had fueled my distrust of her and the Alchemists.

Trey had been blamed for getting me involved with the ritual, and the Warriors had ostracized his father and him. Just as I had been pressured by the Alchemists, Trey had had Warrior doctrine drilled into him his whole life. His father was so ashamed of the fallout that he would barely speak to Trey now. I knew how much Trey wanted his father’s approval, so this silence was more painful to him than the Warriors’ treatment.

Our allegiances made things difficult. When I’d once tentatively hinted to Trey that we still had unresolved issues between us, he’d responded with a bitter laugh. “You have nothing to worry about anymore,” he’d told me. “I’m not hiding any secret plans from you—because I don’t know any. They won’t tell us anything. I’m not one of them, as far as they’re concerned. I’ve been cut off forever, and it’d take a miracle for them to ever take us back.” There’d been something in his dark eyes that told me if he ever could find that miracle, he’d jump on it. I’d tried asking about that, but he wouldn’t discuss it any further. “I want to be your friend, Melbourne,” he had said. “I like you. We’re never going to resolve our differences. Might as well ignore them since we have to be together every day.”

Amazingly, our friendship had managed to survive all that drama. The tension was always there, lurking between us, but we tried to ignore it. Although he knew about my involvement in the vampiric world, he had no idea I was taking behind-the-scenes magic lessons with our history teacher, of course.

If he thought I was lying about Ms. Terwilliger’s absence today, he didn’t push the matter. He nodded toward the sub. “This is going to be a blow-off day.”

I dragged my mind away from magical intrigue. After being homeschooled for most of my life, some parts of the “normal” school world were a mystery. “What’s that mean, exactly?”

“Usually teachers leave subs a lesson plan, telling them what to do. I saw the one Ms. Terwilliger left. It said, ‘Distract them.’” Trey shook his head in mock sympathy. “I hope you can handle the wasted academic time. I mean, she’ll probably say something like, ‘Work on homework.’ But no one will.”

He was right. I wasn’t sure if I could handle this. “Why wouldn’t they?”

This seemed to amuse him immensely. “Melbourne, sometimes you’re the only reason I come to class. I saw her sub plan for your independent study, by the way. It said you didn’t even have to stick around. You’re free to run wild.”

Eddie, sitting nearby, overheard and scoffed. “To the library?”

This made both of them laugh, but my mind was already spinning with possibilities. If I really didn’t have to stay for my last class, I’d be free to leave campus early. I could go into Los Angeles to look for Veronica and—no. Adrian wasn’t back. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of investigation without his spirit magic, but Ms. Terwilliger’s warnings echoed through my mind. The hunt would have to wait.

But I could still look for Marcus Finch.

Santa Barbara was two hours away. That meant I had enough time to drive up there, do some investigating of Marcus, and still comfortably make it back by the school’s curfew. I hadn’t intended to go look for him until this weekend but realized now that I shouldn’t waste this opportunity. Ms. Terwilliger’s task weighed heavily on me as well, but I couldn’t do anything about it until Adrian returned tonight.

Marcus Finch had been a mystery to me since the moment I’d discovered he was an ex-Alchemist. Realizing that I might actually get some answers today made my heart pound in overtime. It was one thing to suspect the Alchemists had been holding out on me. It was an entirely different matter to accept that I might be on the verge of having those suspicions confirmed. It was actually kind of terrifying.

As the day progressed, I became more and more resolved to make the drive. I had to face this sooner or later, and I might as well get it over with. For all I knew, Marcus had simply been sightseeing in Santa Barbara and could be gone already. I didn’t want to repeat the scrying spell if I could help it.

Sure enough, when I showed up for what would normally be my independent study at the end of the day, the sub (looking extremely worn out after a day of following in Ms. Terwilliger’s footsteps) told me I was free to go. I thanked her and hurried off to my dorm room, conscious of the clock that was now ticking. I didn’t know exactly what I’d be facing in Santa Barbara, but I planned to be prepared for anything.

I changed out of my Amberwood uniform, opting for jeans and a plain black blouse. Kneeling by my bed, I pulled out a large metal box from underneath it. At first glance, the box looked like a makeup kit. However, it had an intricate lock that required both a key and combination. Inside was my Alchemist chemistry set, a collection of chemicals that would probably get me kicked out of school if found since it looked like it was capable of manufacturing illegal drugs. And really, some of the compounds probably were pretty questionable.

I selected some basics. One was a formula that was usually used to dissolve Strigoi bodies. I didn’t expect to encounter any Strigoi in Santa Barbara, but the compound could also be used to disintegrate metal pretty handily. I chose a couple other mixtures—like one that could create a spy-worthy smoke screen—and carefully wrapped them all up before slipping them into my messenger bag. Then I locked the box again and slid it back under the bed.

After a little consideration, I took a deep breath and produced another hidden box. This was a new one in my collection. It contained various charms and potions I’d made under Ms. Terwilliger’s instruction. Staring at its contents, I felt my stomach twist. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I’d have such a kit. When we’d first met, I’d only created charms under duress. Now I had several that I’d willingly made, and if what she’d said about her sister was true, I’d need to start making more. With great reluctance, I picked a variety of these as well and packed them up with the Alchemist chemicals. After a moment’s consideration, I put a couple in my pocket for quick access.

The drive to Santa Barbara was easy this time of day December had cooled off some of southern California’s weather, but the sun was still out, making it seem warmer than it really was. And, as I drove up the coast, the desert gave way to more temperate conditions. Rain increased in the middle and northern parts of the state this time of year, making the landscape lush and green. I really did love Palm Springs and Amberwood, but there were times I wouldn’t have minded if Jill’s assignment had taken us up here.

Finding the Old Mission Santa Barbara wasn’t difficult. It was a well-known tourist attraction and pretty easy to spot once you were nearby. The sprawling church looked exactly as it had in my vision save that it was lit by mid-afternoon sunshine rather than twilight. I pulled off to the side of the road in a residential neighborhood and gazed up at the beautiful stucco and terra-cotta masterpiece. I wished I had the time to go on a tour, but, as they so often did, my personal desires had to take a backseat to a larger goal.

Now came the more difficult part—having to figure out where the studio I’d seen might be. The neighborhood I parked in provided a view that was similar to the one I’d observed in the spell. The angles weren’t exact, however, and this street only contained houses. I was almost certain the studio I’d seen had been in an apartment building. Keeping the mission in view, I drove a few more streets over and found what I’d hoped for: several blocks containing apartment complexes.

One looked too nice to have what I’d seen. The studio had seemed pretty bare bones and run down. The other two buildings on the street looked like more likely candidates. I drove to each one and walked around their grounds, trying to imagine what the angle might be when viewed from a higher window. I wished I’d had a chance to actually look down to the parking lot in the vision. It would have given me a better idea of the floor. After much thought, I finally deduced the studio had been on the third or fourth floor. Since one of the buildings only had two floors, that gave me a pretty positive hit on the correct place.

Stepping inside the building made me glad I’d packed hand sanitizer in my bag. The halls looked like they hadn’t been swept in over a year. The walls were dirty, their paint chipped. Bits of trash sat on the floor. Cobwebs hung in some of the corners, and I prayed spiders were the only creepy-crawly inhabitants. If I saw a roach, I was probably going to bolt. The building had no front desk I could make inquiries at, so I flagged down a middle-aged woman as she was leaving. She paused, regarding me warily.

“Hi,” I said, hoping I looked non-threatening. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine, but I don’t know which apartment he lives in. Maybe you know him? His name is Marcus. He has a blue tattoo on his face.” Seeing her blank look, I repeated the question in Spanish. Comprehension showed in her expression, but once she’d heard my entire question, her only response was a brief headshake. I didn’t even have time to show her Marcus’s picture.

I spent the next half hour doing the same thing whenever I saw residents going in or out. I stayed outside this time, preferring a brightly lit public area to the dingy interior. Some of the people I talked to were a little sketchy, and a couple of guys looked me over in a way I definitely didn’t like. I was about to give up when a younger boy approached me. He appeared to be about ten and had been playing in the parking lot.

“I know the guy you’re looking for,” he told me in English. “But his name’s not Marcus. It’s Dave.”

Considering how difficult Marcus had been to find, I wasn’t entirely surprised he’d been using another name. “You’re sure?” I asked the boy. I showed him the picture. “This is the guy?”

He nodded eagerly. “That’s the one. He’s real quiet. My mom says he’s probably doing bad things.”

Great. Just what I needed. “Do you know where he lives?”

The boy pointed upward. “At the top. 407.”

I thanked him and went back inside, heading up to the fourth floor on stairs that creaked the entire way. The apartment was near the end of the hall, next to one that was blasting obnoxious music. I knocked on 407 and didn’t get a response. Not sure if the occupant had heard me, I knocked more loudly and received the same result.

I eyed the doorknob, considering melting it with my Alchemist chemicals. Immediately, I dismissed the thought. Even in a disreputable building like this, a neighbor might be concerned to see me breaking into an apartment. I didn’t want to attract any attention. This situation was getting increasingly frustrating, and I couldn’t spend all day here.

I ran through my choices. Everyone said I was so smart. Surely there was some solution here that would work? Waiting around in the hall wasn’t an option. There was no telling how long it could take for Marcus or “Dave” to show up. And honestly, the less time spent in the dirty hall, the better. If only there was some way to get inside that didn’t involve actually destroying—

That’s when the solution came to me. I groaned. It wasn’t one I liked, but it would get the job done.

I went back outside and waved hello to the boy as he practiced jumping off the steps. “Was Dave home?” he asked.

“No.”

The boy nodded. “He usually isn’t.”

That, at least, would be helpful for this next crazy plan. I left the boy and walked around the side of the building, which was mercifully deserted. There, clinging to the outer wall, was the most rickety fire escape I’d ever seen. Considering how rigid California safety standards were, I was astonished that this hadn’t been reported. Of course, if it had, it didn’t seem likely this building’s owner would’ve been quick to act, judging from the rest of the conditions I’d seen.

Double checking that no one was around, I stood in the fire escape’s shadow, hoping it more or less concealed me. From the messenger bag, I produced one of my charms: a necklace made of agate and crow feathers. I slipped it over my head and recited a Greek incantation. I felt the warmth of magic run through me but saw no ostensible changes. Theoretically, I should be invisible for those who didn’t know to look for me. Whether that had actually happened, I couldn’t say. I supposed I’d find out if someone came by and demanded to know why I was climbing into an apartment via the fire escape.

Once I stepped onto it, I nearly terminated the plan. The entire fire escape squeaked and swayed. The scaffolding was so rusty, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it disintegrated beneath my feet. I stood frozen where I was, trying to work up the courage to go on. I reminded myself that this could be my one chance to find Marcus. The boy in the parking lot had confirmed he lived here. I couldn’t waste this opportunity.

I gulped and kept going, gingerly moving from floor to floor. When I reached the fourth, I stared down in amazement, unable to believe the fire escape was still intact. Now I had a new problem. I’d figured out where Marcus’s studio was, and it was one window over from the fire escape’s landing. The distance wasn’t that great, but on the narrow ledge between them would feel like miles. Equally daunting was the fact that I’d have to get through the window. It was shut, which made sense if he was in hiding. I had a couple magical amulets capable of melting glass, but I didn’t trust myself to be able to use them on the narrow ledge—which meant I had to see just how good my aim had become in PE.

Still conscious of the precarious fire escape, I took out a small pouch of powder from my messenger bag. Sizing up the distance, I threw the pouch hard toward the window, reciting a spell—and missed. The pouch hit the side of the building, throwing up a dusty cloud, and began eating away at the stucco. I winced as the wall dissolved. The spell eventually burned itself out but left a noticeable hole behind. It hadn’t gone all the way through, and I supposed given the state of the building, no one would probably even notice.

I had one pouch left and had to make it count. The pane was fairly big, and there was no way I could miss this time. I threw hard—and made contact. The powder smashed against the window. Immediately, a reaction spread out and began melting the glass. It dripped down like ice out in the sun. Now, watching anxiously, I wanted the reaction to go on for as long as possible. I needed a big enough hole to get through. Fortunately, when it stopped, I felt confident I could make it inside—if I could get over there.

I wasn’t afraid of heights, but as I crept along the ledge, I felt like I was on top of a skyscraper. My heart was in my throat, and I pondered the logistics of surviving a four-floor drop. My palms began to sweat, and I ordered them to stop. I wasn’t going to come all this way just to have my hands slip at the last minute.

As it turned out, it was my foot that slipped. The world spun, and I frantically flung my arms out, just barely grabbing the inside of the window. I pulled myself toward it, and with a surge of adrenaline-fueled effort managed to hook my other leg inside. I took a deep breath and tried to quiet my pounding heart. I was secure. I was going to make it. A moment later, I was able to pull myself up and swing my other leg around the ledge, tumbling into the room.

I landed on the floor, my legs weak and shaky as I worked to steady my frantic breathing. That was close. If my reflexes had been a little slower, I would’ve found out exactly what four floors could do to the human body. While I loved science, I wasn’t sure that was an experiment I needed to try. Maybe being around dhampirs so much had helped improve my physical skills.

Once I’d recovered, I was able to assess my surroundings. Here I was, in the exact same studio I’d seen in my vision. Glancing behind me, I sized up the mission, verifying I had the same vantage. Yup. Exactly the same. Inside, I recognized the mattress on the floor and the same meager belongings. Across the room, the door leading out had a number of very new, very state-of-the-art locks. Dissolving the outer doorknob wouldn’t have done any good.

“Now what?” I muttered. I’d made it inside. I didn’t have Marcus, but I theoretically had his apartment. I was unsure what I was looking for but might as well start somewhere.

First, I examined the mattress, not that I expected much. It couldn’t hide belongings like mine could. It could, however, hide rats and God only knew what else underneath it. I gingerly lifted a corner, knowing I must be grimacing, but there was nothing underneath—alive or otherwise. My next target was a small, disorderly pile of clothes. Going through someone’s dirty laundry (because I assumed it was dirty, if it was sitting on the floor) wasn’t much better than looking at the mattress. A whiff of fabric softener told me that these clothes were, in fact, recently washed. They were ordinary guy clothes, probably a young guy’s clothes, which fit with Marcus’s profile. Jeans. T-shirts. Boxers. As I sifted through the pile, I nearly started folding them and had to remind myself that I didn’t want to leave any sign of my passing. Of course, the melted window was kind of a dead giveaway.

A couple of personal items sat nearby, a toothbrush and deodorant with a scent inexplicably called as “Ocean Fiesta.” Aside from a rickety wooden chair and the ancient TV, there was only one other form of comfort and entertainment in the barren room: a battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye. “Great,” I muttered, wondering what it said about a person who owned no other personal possessions. “Marcus Finch is pretentious and self-entitled.”

The studio’s bathroom was claustrophobic and barely had enough space for a single shower stall, toilet, and dripping sink. Judging from the mildew on the floor, a good deal of water sprayed out when the shower was used. A large black spider scurried down the drain, and I hastily backed out.

Defeated, I went to investigate a narrow closet door. After all my work, I’d found Marcus Finch but hadn’t actually found him. My search had revealed nothing. I had limited time to wait for him, and honestly, if I were him and returned home to a melted window, I would promptly walk out the door and never return. If he ran, I’d have no choice but to keep scrying and—

“Ahh!”

Something jumped out at me as I opened the closet door—and it wasn’t a rat or a roach.

It was a man.

The closet was tiny, so it was a miracle he had even fit inside. I had no time to process the spatial logistics, however, because his fist shot out and clipped me on the side of the face.

In my life, I’d been slammed up against brick walls and bitten by a Strigoi. I’d never been punched, however, and it wasn’t an experience I wanted to repeat. I stumbled backward, so surprised that I couldn’t even react right away. The guy lunged after me, grabbing my upper arms and shaking me as he leaned close.

“How did you guys find me?” he exclaimed. “How many more are coming?”

Pain radiated through the side of my face, but somehow, I managed to gather my senses. Last month, I’d taken a self-defense class with a slightly unstable Chihuahua breeder who looked like a pirate. Despite Malachi Wolfe’s unorthodox behavior, he’d actually taught us some legitimate skills, and they came back to me now. I kneed my attacker in the stomach. His blue eyes went wide with shock as he released me and fell to the ground. It didn’t keep him down for long, though. He scrambled back to his feet and came after me, but by then, I’d grabbed the chair and was using it to keep him at bay the way a lion tamer would.

“Back off,” I said. “I just want to—”

Ignoring my threats, the guy pushed forward and grabbed one of the chair’s legs, pulling it away from me. He had me backed into a corner, and despite some tricks Eddie had taught me, I wasn’t confident in my own ability to throw a punch. Nonetheless, I put up a good fight when my attacker tried to grab me again. We struggled and fell to the floor. I kicked and clawed like crazy, making things as difficult as possible. It was only when he managed to pin me with his entire body that my flailing got stifled. I had enough freedom to reach a hand into my pocket, however.

“Who sent you?” he demanded. “Where are the others?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I pulled out a small vial and flipped the cap off with one hand. Immediately, noxious yellow vapor with the consistency of dry ice spilled out of it. I thrust it toward the guy’s face. He recoiled in disgust, and tears sprang into his eyes. The substance itself was relatively harmless, but its fumes acted as a kind of pepper spray. He let go of me, and with strength I didn’t even know I had, I managed to roll him over and hold him down. I drove my elbow into his wrist, and he made a small grunt of pain. With my other arm, I waved the vial with as much menace as I would a machete. This wouldn’t fool him for long, but hopefully it’d buy me some time to reassess my situation. Now that he was still, I was finally able to get a good look at him and was relieved to see I’d at least achieved my goal. He had a young, handsome face with an indigo tattoo on his cheek. It was an abstract design that looked like a latticework of crescent moons. A faint silver gleam edged some of the blue lines.

“Nice to meet you, Marcus.”

Then, the most astonishing thing happened. Through his watering eyes, he’d been trying to get a good look at me too. Recognition appeared on his face as he blinked me into focus.

“Sydney Sage,” he gasped. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I didn’t have any time to be surprised because I suddenly heard the click of a gun, and a barrel touched the back of my head.

“Get off him,” a voice demanded. “And drop the smoke bomb.”

\I MIGHT HAVE BEEN DETERMINED to find Marcus, but I certainly wasn’t going to argue against a gun.
I raised my hands in the air and slowly stood up, keeping my back to the newcomer. Just as carefully, I stepped away from Marcus and set the vial on the floor. Fumes still wafted out of it, but the reaction would burn itself out soon. Then I dared a peek behind me. When I saw the girl who stood there, I could barely believe my eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked Marcus. He was unsteadily getting to his feet. “I left as soon as you called.”

“You!” I couldn’t quite manage anything more articulate.

The girl standing before me was close to my age, with long, tangled blond hair. She still had the gun on me, but a small smile appeared on her face.

“Nice to see you again.”

The feeling wasn’t mutual. I’d last seen this girl when I faced down the Warriors in their arena. She’d been toting a gun there as well and had had a perpetual snarl on her face. She’d pushed me around and threatened me, making no secret of how heretical she thought my defense of Sonya was. Although she seemed much calmer now than she had with those fanatics, I still couldn’t dismiss what she was—or what the implications were. I turned to Marcus in disbelief. He was cradling the wrist I’d nailed with my elbow.

“You . . . you’re one of them! One of the Warriors of Light!”

I don’t think I’d ever been so let down in my life. I’d had so many hopes pinned on Marcus. He’d become larger than life in my mind, some rebel savior who was going to tell me all the secrets of the world and free me from being another cog in the machine of the Alchemists. But it was all a lie. Clarence had mentioned Marcus had convinced the Warriors to leave him alone. I’d assumed it was because Marcus had some incredible leverage he could use against the Warriors, but apparently, the key to his influence was that he was one of them.

He looked up from his wrist. “What? Those nuts? Hell, no.”

I almost pointed at the girl but decided it would be best not to make any sudden moves. I settled for a nod in her direction and noticed all the locks on the door had been undone. I’d been so caught up in the struggle with Marcus that I hadn’t heard them. “Really? Then how come one of them just saved you?”

“I’m not really one of them.” She spoke almost casually, but the gun contradicted her tone. “I mean, I guess I kind of am. . . .”

“Sabrina’s a spy,” explained Marcus. He looked much more at ease too, now that I wasn’t assaulting him. “A lovely one. She’s been undercover with them for over a year. She’s also the one who told me about you.”

Once again, it was hard knowing how to respond to that. I also wasn’t sure if I bought this spy story. “What exactly did you tell him?”

He shot me a movie star smile. His teeth were so white that I wondered if he had veneers. It seemed out of character for a rogue who lived on the run, but nothing about this day was really turning out like I’d expected. “She told me about this Alchemist girl who defended a Moroi and then helped lead a dhampir raiding party.”

Lead? Hardly. No one—notably Stanton—had felt the need to enlighten me about that raid until I was in the middle of it. I didn’t want to tip my hand too early though. “The Alchemists sanctioned that raid,” I said.

“I saw the way you spoke,” said Sabrina. Her eyes flicked between Marcus and me, fierce for me and admiring for him. “It was inspiring. And we watched you for a while, you know. You spent an awful lot of time with the Moroi and dhampirs in Palm Springs.”

“It’s my job,” I said. She hadn’t really seemed inspired at the time. Mostly she’d looked disappointed at not having a chance to use the gun on me.

Marcus’s smile turned knowing. “From what I heard, you and those Moroi almost looked like friends. And then, here you are, looking for me. You’re definitely the dissident we’d hoped for.”

No, this was not turning out at all like I’d planned. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite of what I’d planned. I’d been so proud of my ability to track down Marcus, little knowing that he’d been watching me already. I didn’t like that. It made me feel vulnerable, even if they were saying some of things I’d hoped to hear. Needing to feel like I was in control, I tried to play it cool and tough.

“Maybe there are other Alchemists about to show up,” I said.

“They would’ve been here already” he said, calling my bluff. “They wouldn’t have sent you alone . . . though I did panic when I first saw you. I didn’t realize who you were and thought there were others right behind you.” He paused, and that cocky attitude turned sheepish. “Sorry about, um, punching you. If it makes you feel better, you did something pretty serious to my wrist.”

Sabrina’s face filled with concern. “Oh, Marcus. Do you need to see a doctor?”

He tested the movement of his wrist and then shook his head. “You know we can’t. Never know who might be watching at a hospital. Those places are too easy to monitor.”

“You really are hiding from the Alchemists,” I said in amazement.

His nodded, almost looking proud. “You doubted? I figured you’d know that.”

“I suspected, but I didn’t hear it from them. They deny you exist.”

He seemed to find that funny. In fact, he seemed to find everything funny, which I found slightly irritating. “Yup. That’s what I’ve heard from the others.”

“What others?”

“Others like you.” Those blue eyes held me for a moment, like they could see all my secrets. “Other Alchemists wanting to break free of the fold.”

I knew my own eyes were wide. “There . . . there are others?”

Marcus settled on the floor, leaning against the wall and still cradling his wrist. “Let’s get comfortable. Sabrina, put the gun away. I don’t think Sydney’s going to give us any trouble.”

Sabrina didn’t look so sure of that, but after several moments, she complied. She joined him on the floor, positioning herself protectively next to him. “I’d rather stand,” I told them. No way would I willingly sit on that filth. After rolling around with Marcus, I wanted to go bathe myself in hand sanitizer.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. You want some answers? You give me some first. Why’d you come looking for me off the Alchemist clock?”

I didn’t like being interrogated, but what was the point of being here if I wasn’t going to engage in a dialogue?

“Clarence told me about you,” I said at last. “He showed me your picture, and I saw how you’d tattooed over the lily. I didn’t even know that was possible.” The tattoo never faded.

“Clarence Donahue?” Marcus looked genuinely pleased. “He’s a good guy. I suppose you’d be friends with him if you’re in Palm Springs, huh?”

I started to say we weren’t friends but then reconsidered. What else were we?

“Getting this isn’t easy,” added Marcus, tapping the blue tattoo. “You’ll have to do a lot of work if you want to do it.”

I stepped backward. “Whoa, I never said that’s what I wanted. And why in the world would I do it anyway?”

“Because it’ll free you,” he said simply. “It prevents you from discussing vampire affairs, right? You don’t think that’s all it does, do you? Think. What stops it from exerting other control?”

I pretty much had to just give up on any expectations for this conversation because every topic was crazier than the last. “I’ve never heard of anything like that. I’ve never felt anything like that. Aside from it protecting vampire information, I’m in control.”

He nodded. “Probably. The initial tattoo usually only has the talking compulsion in it. They only start adding other components with re-inks if they’ve got a reason to worry about you. People can sometimes fight through those and if they do . . . well, then it’s off to re-education.”

His words sent a chill through me, and I rested a hand on my cheek as I flashbacked to the meeting I’d had when I was given the Palm Springs assignment. “I was re-inked recently . . . but it was routine.” Routine. Normal. Nothing like what he was suggesting.

“Maybe.” He tilted his head and gave me another piercing look. “You do anything bad before that, love?”

Like helping a dhampir fugitive? “Depends on your definition of bad.”

Both of them laughed. Marcus’s laugh was loud and rollicking and actually pretty infectious—but the situation was far too dire for me to join in.

“They may have reinforced your group loyalty then,” he said, still chuckling. “But it either wasn’t very strong or else you fought through it—otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He glanced over at Sabrina. “What do you think?”

Sabrina studied me with a critical eye. I still had a hard time believing her role in all of this. “I think she’d be a good addition. And since she’s still in, she could help us with that . . . other matter.”

“I think so too,” he said.

I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t like being discussed as though I weren’t there. “A good addition to what?”

“Our group.” To Sabrina, he said, “We really need a name for it, you know.” She snorted, and he returned his attention to me. “We’re a mix. Some are former Warriors or double agents like Sabrina. Some are ex-Alchemists.”

“And what do you do?” I gestured around us. “This doesn’t exactly look like a high-tech base of operation for some covert team.”

“Look at you. Pretty and funny,” he said, looking delighted. “We do what you do—or what you want to do. We like the Moroi. We want to help them—on our own terms. The Alchemists theoretically want to help them too, but we all know that’s based on a core of fear and dislike—not to mention a strict control of its members. So, we work in secret, seeing as the Alchemists aren’t fans of those who break from the fold. They really aren’t fans of me, which is why I end up in places like this.”

“We keep an eye on the Warriors too,” said Sabrina. She scowled. “I hate being around those nuts, having to play along with them. They claim they only want to destroy the Strigoi—but, well, the things I’ve heard them say against the Moroi too . . .”