Somehow, sometime, I was going to find Marcus Finch and get my answers.
I was surprised to see Jill sitting outside our dorm when I walked in. She was in the shade, of course, still able to enjoy the nice weather without the sun’s full force. We’d finally moved into a sort of autumn around here, not that eighty was what I usually associated with brisk fall weather. Jill’s face was pensive, but she brightened a little when she saw me.
“Hey, Sydney. I was hoping to catch you. Can’t find you anymore without your phone.”
I made a face. “Yeah, I need to replace that. It’s been a huge pain.”
She nodded in commiseration. “Did you drop Sonya off?”
“She’s on her way back to Court and Mikhail—and hopefully a much more peaceful life.”
“That’s good,” said Jill. She glanced away and bit her lower lip.
I knew her well enough by now to recognize the signs of when she was bracing to tell me something. I also knew better than to push the matter, so I waited patiently.
“I did it,” she said at last. “I told Micah it’s over… really over.”
Relief flooded me. One less thing to worry about. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know that must have been hard.”
She brushed curly hair away from her face as she considered. “Yes. And no. I like him. And I’d like to keep hanging out with him—as friends—if he wants to. I don’t know, though. He took it kind of hard… and our mutual friends? Well… they’re not very happy with me right now.” I tried not to groan. Jill had made such headway with her status here, and now it could be shattered. “But it’s for the best. Micah and I live in different worlds, and there’d be no real future with a human anyway. Besides, I’ve been thinking a lot about love… like, epic love…” She looked up at me for a moment, her gaze softening. “And that wasn’t what we had. Seems like if I’m with someone, that’s what I should feel.”
I thought epic love was kind of a stretch for someone her age but didn’t say so. “Are you going to be okay?”
She snapped back to reality. “Yeah, I think so.” A small smile played over her lips. “And once this has passed, maybe Eddie will want to go out sometime—away from campus, of course. Seeing as we’re ‘related.’”
Her words were almost a repeat of what I’d heard the other night at Clarence’s, and I stared in surprise as realization dawned on me. “You don’t know… I thought you would since Angeline’s your roommate…”
Jill frowned. “What are you talking about? What don’t I know?”
Oh God. Why, oh why, did I have to be the one to deliver this news? Why couldn’t I be locked away in my room or the library doing something enjoyable, like homework?
“Eddie’s, um, asked Angeline out. I don’t know when it’s going to happen, but he decided to give her a chance.” He hadn’t borrowed my car, so presumably there’d been no date yet.
Jill looked stricken. “W-what? Eddie and Angeline? But… he can’t stand her…”
“Something changed,” I said lamely. “I’m not sure what. It’s not like, er, epic love, but they’ve gotten closer these last few weeks. I’m sorry.” Jill seemed more devastated by this than breaking up with Micah.
She looked away and blinked back tears. “It’s okay. I mean, I never encouraged him. He probably still thinks I’m dating Micah. Why should he have waited around? He should have someone.”
“Jill—”
“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” She looked so sad and then, amazingly, her face grew even darker. “Oh, Sydney. You’re going to be so mad at me.”
I was still thinking of Micah and felt totally confused at the topic change. “Why?”
She reached into her backpack and pulled out a glossy magazine. It was some kind of southern California tourism one, with articles and ads highlighting the area. One of the pages was marked, and I turned to it. It was a full-page advertisement for Lia DiStefano, a collage of pictures of her various designs.
And one of the photos was of Jill.
It took me a moment to catch it. The picture was a profile shot, with Jill in sunglasses and a fedora—as well as that peacock-colored scarf Lia had given her. Jill’s curly hair streamed out behind her, and the angles of her face looked beautiful. If I hadn’t known Jill so well, I would never have identified her as this chic model—though it would certainly be obvious that she was a Moroi to anyone who knew what to look for.
“How?” I demanded. “How did this happen?”
Jill took a deep breath, ready to accept her blame. “When she dropped off the costumes and gave me the scarf, she asked if I’d let her take a picture to see how the colors photographed. She had some of the other accessories in the car, and I put those on too. She wanted to prove to me that with the right coverage, she could hide my identity. But I never thought… I mean, she didn’t say she’d use it. God, I feel so stupid.”
Maybe not stupid, but certainly naïve. I nearly crumpled up the magazine. I was furious at Lia. Part of me wanted to sue for using a picture of a minor without permission, but we had much bigger problems. How wide was this magazine’s circulation? If Lia had only put Jill’s photo on display in California, maybe no one would recognize her. Still, a Moroi model could raise eyebrows. Who knows what kind of trouble this was going to cause for us now?
“Sydney, I’m sorry,” said Jill. “What can I do to fix this?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Except to stay away from Lia.” I felt ill. “I’ll take care of this.” I really didn’t know how, though. I could only pray no one noticed the picture.
“I’ll do whatever you need if you think of something. I—oh.” Her eyes lifted to something behind me. “Maybe we should talk later.”
I glanced back. Trey was walking toward us. Another problem to deal with.
“Probably a good idea,” I said. Jill’s heartache and publicity would have to go on the back burner. She left as Trey came to stand beside me.
“Melbourne,” he said, attempting one of his old smiles. It faltered a little.
“I didn’t know you were still around,” I said. “I thought you’d left with the others.” The Warriors had scattered to the wind. Trey had said before that they traveled for their “hunts,” and Master Angeletti had also mentioned gathering from various places of the country. Presumably, they had all returned to where they’d come from. I’d thought Trey would simply disappear as well.
“Nope,” he said. “This is where I go to school, where my dad wants me to stay. Besides, the other Warriors never had a permanent base here in Palm Springs. They’ll move on to wherever…”
He couldn’t finish, so I did. “Wherever you get a tip-off about monsters you can brutally execute?”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said. “We thought she was one of the Strigoi. We still do.”
I scrutinized his face, this guy I’d thought was my friend. I was pretty sure he still was. “Not you. That’s why you threw the fight.”
“I didn’t,” he protested.
“You did. I saw you hesitate when you could have taken out Chris. You didn’t want to win. You didn’t want to kill Sonya because you weren’t sure she really was Strigoi.”
He didn’t deny it. “I still think they should all be destroyed.”
“So do I.” I reconsidered. “Well, unless there’s a way to save them all, but that’s unclear.” Despite how much I’d said while advocating for Sonya, I wasn’t quite comfortable letting him on the secrets and experiments. “If the Warriors travel around, what’ll happen the next time they’re in this area? Or even L.A.? Will you join them again? Will you travel to the next hunt?”
“No.” The answer was hard. Blunt, even.
Hope surged in me. “You’ve decided to split off from them?”
The emotions on Trey’s face were hard to read, but they didn’t look like happy ones. “No. They decided to cut us off—me and my dad. We’ve been outcast.”
I stared for a few moments, at a loss for words. I didn’t lik
e the Warriors or Trey’s involvement, but this wasn’t quite what I’d been trying to achieve. “Because of me?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Indirectly, I guess. They don’t blame you personally or even the Alchemists. Hell, they still want to team up with the Alchemists. They figure you just behaved in your typically misguided way. But me? I’m the one who pushed to let you in, who swore everything would be fine. So, they blame me for the lapse of judgment and fallout that came from it. Others are taking the blame too—the council for agreeing, security for not stopping the raid—but that doesn’t make me feel better. Dad and I were the only ones exiled.”
“I… I’m sorry. I never thought anything like that would happen.”
“Wasn’t your place to,” he said pragmatically, though his tone was still miserable. “To a certain extent, they’re right. I was the one that got you in. It is my fault, and they’re punishing my dad for what I did. That’s the worst part of all.” Trey was trying to play it cool, but I could see the truth. He’d worked so hard to impress his father and ended up causing the ultimate humiliation. Trey’s next words confirmed as much. “The Warriors have been my dad’s whole life. To be kicked out like that… well, he’s taking it pretty badly. I have to find a way to get back in—for him. I don’t suppose you know where any easy-to-kill Strigoi are, do you?”
“No,” I said. “Especially since none of them are easy kills.” I hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “Trey, what’s this mean for us? I understand if we can’t be friends anymore… seeing as how I, uh, ruined your life’s work.”
A hint of his old smile returned. “Nothing’s ruined for good. I told you, I’ll get back in. And if it’s not by killing Strigoi, who knows? Maybe if I learn more about you guys, I can bridge the gap between our groups and get us to all work together. That would score me some points.”
“You’re welcome to try,” I said diplomatically. I really didn’t think that would happen, and he could tell.
“Well, I’ll figure something out then, some big move to get the Warriors’ attention and get my dad and me back in with them. I have to.” His face started to fall again, but then there was a brief return of the phantom smile—though it was tinged with sadness. “You know what else sucks? Now I can’t ask Angeline out. Hanging out with you is one thing, but even if I’m an outcast, I can’t risk being friendly with Moroi or dhampirs. I especially can’t date one. I mean, I’d figured she was one a while ago, but I could have played dumb. That attack in the arena kind of killed any chance of that. The Warriors really don’t like them either, you know. Dhampirs or Moroi. They’d love to see them brought down too—they just think it’s too hard and less of a priority right now.”
Something about those words made me shiver, particularly since I recalled the offhand Warrior comment about eventually taking out Moroi. The Alchemists certainly had no love for dhampirs and Moroi, but that was a far cry from wanting to bring them down.
“I gotta get going.” Trey reached into his pocket and handed over something that I was grateful to see. My phone. “Figured you were missing this.”
“Yes!” I took it eagerly and turned it on. I hadn’t known if I’d get it back and had been on the verge of buying a new one. This one was three months old and practically out-of-date anyway. “Thanks for saving it. Oh. Wow.” I read the display. “There are like a million messages from Brayden.” We hadn’t spoken since the night of Sonya’s disappearance.
The mischievous look I liked so well on Trey returned. “Better get on that then. True love waits for no one.”
“True love, huh?” I shook my head in exasperation. “So nice to have you back.”
That earned me an outright grin. “See you around.”
As soon as I was alone, I texted Brayden: Sorry for the radio silence. Lost my phone for three days. His response was almost immediate: I’m at work, due for a break soon. Come by? I thought about it. Seeing as I had no life-saving tasks right now, this was as good a time as any. I texted back that I’d leave Amberwood right away.
Brayden had my favorite latte ready for me when I got to Spencer’s. “Based on when you were leaving, I calculated when I would need to make it in order for it to be hot when you arrived.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking it. I felt a little guilt that I had a greater emotional reaction to seeing the coffee than him.
He told the other barista he was going on break and then led me over to a remote table. “This won’t take long,” Brayden said. “I know you probably have a lot of things to do this weekend.”
“Things are actually starting to lighten up,” I said.
He took a deep breath, showing that same resolve and anxiety he’d had when asking me for future dates. “Sydney,” he said, voice formal, “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
I stopped mid-sip. “Wait… what?”
“I know how devastating this probably is for you,” he added. “And I admit, it’s hard for me too. But in light of recent events, it’s become clear you just aren’t ready for a relationship yet.”
“Recent events?”
He nodded solemnly. “Your family. You’ve broken off a number of our social engagements to be with them. While that kind of familial devotion is admirable, I just can’t be in that kind of volatile relationship.”
“Volatile?” I just kept repeating his key words and finally forced myself to get a grip. “So… let me get this straight. You’re breaking up with me.”
He thought about it. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
I waited for some internal reaction. An outpouring of grief. The sense of my heart breaking. Any emotion, really. But mostly, all I felt was kind of a puzzled surprise.
“Huh,” I said.
That was apparently enough of a distraught reaction for Brayden. “Please don’t make this harder than it is. I admire you a lot. You’re absolutely the smartest girl I’ve ever met. But I just can’t be involved with someone as irresponsible as you.”
I stared. “Irresponsible.”
Brayden nodded again. “Yes.”
I’m not sure where it started, somewhere in my stomach or chest, maybe. But all of a sudden, I was consumed by uncontrollable laughter. I couldn’t stop. I had to set down my coffee, lest I spill it. Even then, I had to bury my face in my hands to wipe away tears.
“Sydney?” asked Brayden cautiously. “Is this some kind of hysterical-grief reaction?”
It took me almost another minute to calm myself enough to answer him. “Oh, Brayden. You’ve made my day. You’ve given me something I never thought I’d get. Thank you.” I reached for the coffee and stood up. He looked completely lost.
“Um, you’re welcome?”
I left the coffee shop, still laughing like a fool. For the last month or so, everyone in my life had gone on and on about how responsible I was, how diligent, how exemplary. I’d been called a lot of things. But never, ever, had I been called irresponsible.
And I kind of liked it.
CHAPTER 24
BECAUSE THIS DAY couldn’t get any weirder, I decided to stop by Adrian’s. There was something I was dying to know but hadn’t had a chance to ask.
He opened the door when I knocked, a paintbrush in hand. “Oh,” he said. “Unexpected.”
“Am I interrupting anything?”
“Just homework.” He stepped aside to let me in. “Don’t worry. It’s not the crisis for me that it would be for you.”
I entered the living room and was happy to see it filled with canvases and easels once again. “You’ve got your art studio back.”
“Yup.” He set the brush down and wiped his hands on a rag. “Now that this place is no longer research central, I can return it to its normal artistic state.”
He leaned against the back of the plaid sofa and watched me as I strolled from canvas to canvas. One of them gave me pause. “What’s this? It looks like a lily.”
“It is,” he said. “No offense, but this lily is kind of more badass tha
n yours. If the Alchemists want to buy the rights to this and start using it, I’m willing to negotiate.”
“Noted,” I said. I was still smiling from Brayden’s breakup, and this only added to my good mood. Although, admittedly, the painting kind of lost me a little—as the abstract nature of his art often did. The lily, despite being more stylized and “badass” than the prim one on my cheek, was still clearly identifiable. It was even done in gold paint. Splashes of free-form scarlet paint surrounded it, and around the red was an almost crystalline pattern in ice blue. It was striking, but if there was some deeper meaning, it was beyond me.
“You’re in an awfully good mood,” he observed. “Was there a sale at Khakis-R-Us?”
I gave up on my artistic interpretation and turned to him. “Nope. Brayden broke up with me.”
Adrian’s smirk faded. “Oh. Shit. I’m sorry. Are you… I mean, do you need a drink? Do you need to, uh, cry or anything?”
I laughed. “No. Weirdly, I’m fine. It really doesn’t bother me at all. But it should, right? Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”
Adrian’s green eyes weighed me. “I don’t think so. Not every breakup is a tragedy. Still… you might be due for some kind of comfort.”
He straightened and walked over to the kitchen. Puzzled, I watched as he pulled something from the freezer and rifled through his silverware drawer. He returned to the living room and presented me with a pint of pomegranate gelato and a spoon.
“What’s this for?” I asked, accepting the offering out of shock alone.
“For you, obviously. You wanted pomegranate, right?”
I thought back to the night at the Italian restaurant. “Well, yeah… but you didn’t need to do this…”
“Well, you wanted it,” he said reasonably. “That, and a deal’s a deal.”
“What deal?”
“Remember when you said you’d drink a regular can of pop if I didn’t smoke for a day? Well, I calculated the calories, and that’s the same as a serving of this. If you can believe there are four servings in that tiny thing.”
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