The Fiery Heart b-4

by Richelle Mead

  Trey shuddered. “No thanks.”

  Sydney suddenly frowned. “Your Warrior tattoo is just a tattoo, right? No powers?”

  “Nope. Tattoos don’t have to have amazing abilities for us. Decoration is enough.”

  “Okay,” she said. “That’ll give me a good cover story for Wolfe. Don’t worry—whatever I say, nothing will happen to your current tattoo.” Trey didn’t look reassured.

  I pondered that. “Doesn’t he need a special tattoo, though?” I asked. I didn’t elaborate in front of Trey, but the whole point of this experiment was to see if her ink could deactivate Alchemist ink.

  She nodded, catching my unspoken question. “Yes, but we’ll worry about that after this, once I get some of those materials. Then we’ll do a second tattoo.”

  Trey’s mouth dropped, but he didn’t get a chance to comment. Jackie and Wolfe returned just then, and he rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Okay, so what’s the late-night emergency? You two getting your names tattooed on each other? I can do a pretty nice Courier font.”

  Sydney had been about to speak but faltered a moment. Wolfe had no evidence of our relationship, but he’d always assumed there was one, even before there was. She quickly recovered herself and laughed off his comment, like it was a funny joke. Trey, understandably, seemed too transfixed by the idea of a one-eyed man tattooing him to have really noticed.

  “The opposite,” Sydney told Wolfe. “We actually want to remove my friend’s tattoo, and we’ve got some special ink that’ll eventually make the old one fade over time.”

  He grunted. “Really? Never heard of that. I thought laser removal was really the only way to get rid of one.”

  “It’s a new technique,” she explained easily, giving a small nod to Trey. “His parents are visiting soon, and they’ll kill him if they see it.”

  I blinked in surprise. She was so convincing, I nearly believed her story, and I knew the truth. Wolfe certainly bought it. It was something I tended to forget about: Alchemists were excellent liars. If Sydney ever wanted to lie to me, I’d probably be none the wiser.

  “Where is it?” Wolfe asked.

  Trey didn’t react right away. I think he almost believed Sydney too. Turning away from us, he pulled off his shirt and revealed a sun tattoo on the back of his shoulder.

  Wolfe leaned forward to study it. “So, what? Your parents see you shirtless a lot?”

  Sydney winced at the flaw in her logic. “It’s just better if it’s gone when they visit, sir.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Trey. “Sometimes we do family trips to the beach.” I had to give him points for playing along.

  Sydney explained how Wolfe only needed to deliver the ink into the existing tattoo. He looked disappointed that there’d be no chance to test his artistic skills, but I think he was happy enough about a late-night visit to Jackie to not be too put out about the time and effort.

  Although Wolfe’s equipment looked professional enough, the garage setup gave the whole operation a kind of sketchy feel. I didn’t know the fine details of tattooing, but Sydney examined everything with a critical eye, asking about sterilization and seeming pleased that Wolfe used new parts on some of the equipment each time. Jackie looked as helpless as I felt and stood near me and a wide-eyed Trey, whose tanned skin had paled at the approaching feat. Even Sydney looked a little uneasy, however, when Trey lay facedown on a bench so that Wolfe could get to his shoulder with the needle.

  “I’m sure he’s very skilled,” she said. It was hard to say which of us she was trying to convince.

  “Damn boy,” said Wolfe, poking one of Trey’s huge triceps. “What sport do you play?”

  “All of them.”

  “Oh yeah? You ever done speed-skating-javelin-throwing?”

  “Speed-skating what?” asked Trey.

  All of us could tell Wolfe was on the verge of a story, and Sydney cleared her throat. “Um, sir? We should really get moving.” She went over her instructions one last time, and then Wolfe set to his task.

  I’d never seen tattooing before. It sounded like a dentist’s drill, and although I was no stranger to blood, seeing that high-powered needle go to work made me squeamish. It had to hurt, but Trey took it stoically, never twitching a muscle. Sydney supervised everything with a sharp eye, and I had a feeling that if Wolfe did anything even remotely irresponsible, she’d throw herself in there to stop him. She was literally and figuratively watching Trey’s back.

  I moved closer to her, careful not to touch but also not really leaving any space between us. “Okay. Presuming Wolfe doesn’t accidentally impale Trey, what’s the next step? I get your logic about giving him a tattoo with Alchemist ink later to see if this one will protect him, but how exactly are you going to get their ink? Doesn’t that require vampire blood and earth compulsion? Those aren’t things you have lying around your room.”

  A faint smile played at her lips. “No, nor are some of the other ingredients. And they’re not exactly things I can order off the internet either or use regular Alchemist channels for. I’ll have to think of some other way to get them.”

  “But you still wanted to do this first?” I nodded toward Trey.

  Whatever fleeting smile she might have had vanished on the wind. “Yes. I had to, after seeing Keith today. Maybe this is preemptive. Maybe I should’ve held off until I had Alchemist ink, but when I think about Keith . . . I have to do something now, Adrian. I can’t let them do that to other people. I’ve been talking about replicating this stuff in hypothetical terms for a while now, and I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting for Marcus or the ideal procedure. This puts us one step closer. Trey’ll be ready for when I get some Alchemist ink, and once we prove this works, Marcus will disperse it.”

  I resisted the urge to cup her face in my hands. What she was suggesting wasn’t a bad plan. Would it have been better if she and Marcus had managed to tattoo one of his disciples with an Alchemist compulsion tattoo and then see if this stuff worked like Marcus’s indigo ink? Sure, that would’ve been the ideal plan. And that was the thing. Sydney usually went with ideal. She was meticulous. She wasn’t the type to rush stuff or settle for the second-best option. But she’d rushed now. She’d let the optimal order for her experiment be altered in order to speed things up. It was something anyone might do. I would. The fact that Sydney had done it, however, told me something crucial. She’d acted on impulse and emotion, which was out of character for her. Sydney was scared.

  What the hell had she seen in Keith?

  “You should have Wolfe tattoo you too,” I said gently. “If you’re worried, that is. Just in case Inez was wrong about magic use undoing yours.”

  A pained look crossed her face. “I thought about it, believe me. The problem is, I can’t easily do it with Zoe around. This process irritates the skin, and even though the most obvious effects are gone in a few days, it’s still not something I can hide while living with her. I’ve just got to take my chances and wait.”

  “You going to tell Marcus about this?”

  “If he ever calls,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s probably passed out at some cantina.”

  “We can dream visit him, you know,” I said.

  “Adrian.” Her voice was stern. “You know we can’t.”

  “I know no such thing,” I declared. “I haven’t used spirit in a long time. Not really since—well. You know. That night. A little burst like this for the greater good? No problem.” I made the boast without thinking, mostly because it was a gut instinct to help her. It occurred to me too late that I might not actually be capable of it with the pills.

  “It’s dangerous,” she said. But I could see indecision in her eyes. She wanted to talk to Marcus in theory but didn’t want to put me at risk.

  “What’s dangerous is not doing what we can to protect others. And if that means talking to my favorite outlaw, we should do it. I should do it.” I had to try. Maybe it’d end in failure, but I was powerless against helping her.

 
; She hesitated and then gave me the best answer I could expect: “We’ll discuss it later.”

  Whatever his other flaws, Wolfe proved surprisingly competent. The tattoo process seemed to take forever, but he didn’t gouge any holes in Trey’s back. When they finally finished an hour later, Trey’s skin was pink and irritated, dotted with a little blood. Both Sydney and Wolfe assured us that was normal. He nodded in satisfaction and allowed Trey to sit up for cleaning and bandaging.

  “I covered the whole thing,” said Wolfe. “How long until it fades?”

  “It can take a while,” Sydney said smoothly. “Sometimes you need a few more applications, but I’ve got a good feeling about this. Thanks for your help.” Again, she spoke so easily that I could almost believe we were just doing a cosmetic removal and not protecting against mind-controlling magic.

  “Wish they’d had that kind of thing back when I was younger,” Wolfe said wistfully. “If I’d known what I knew now, I never would’ve gotten Tocllul tattooed on my thigh. But, hey, I was practically a kid myself and thought Tocllul and I would be together forever.”

  “Toc—what?” I asked.

  “Tocllul. This Aztec princess I met while I was backpacking around Mexico.”

  Trey leaned forward. “Did you say Aztec?”

  “Yup. The last of her people. Her family had fallen on hard times, though, and had to sell souvenirs to make ends meet. I competed in several death-defying games of honor to prove my worthiness. I finally won the right to be her royal consort, but after a couple months, I got restless. I wasn’t ready to settle down. It broke her heart when I left, but what could I do? I was young, filled with wanderlust. I had to be free. Free as a bird.”

  “‘And this bird you cannot change,’” I said solemnly. Sydney shot me a wry look. “So you’ve still got her name on you?”

  “Nah.” He pushed up one leg of his Bermuda shorts, revealing a hairy thigh and Tactful written in slightly faded navy ink. “I got back to the States and found a guy to modify it. This was the best we could come up with the letters available.”

  “It’s a very noble trait,” said Jackie. I studied her and couldn’t tell if she was lying either. It made the temptation to switch to aura vision that much stronger. She watched as Sydney helped patch Trey up. “Do you need anything else? Any of you? I admit, I feel rather useless.”

  “You were the hostess,” said Sydney, stepping back as Trey put his shirt back on. “You’ve done plenty.”

  “Well, I’m happy to do more if you guys want to stay for a while.”

  Judging from the way Wolfe’s eyebrow rose over his eye patch, the only person he envisioned staying longer was himself.

  “We need to get going,” I said, speaking for all of us. If Jackie gave Sydney permission to be out, I supposed we could theoretically use the time to sneak a bit to eat. Even Trey could come. I really didn’t care, so long as it gave me a few more precious moments with Sydney. A buzz on her cell phone told me that wasn’t an option. She checked the display and sighed.

  “Yikes. This is the fourth one Zoe’s sent. I didn’t hear them over the needle.” She put the phone away. “I’m sure I’ll get an earful for being out this late.”

  “Don’t go home,” I said impulsively. Trey was asking Wolfe a question, and I leaned close to Sydney’s ear. “Escape plan number thirty-one: We’ll get in my car and won’t stop until we’re somewhere safe.”

  The love that answered me in her eyes had an almost tangible quality, and I had to fight the urge to hold her. “We’d have to stop a dozen times. Your car gets terrible gas mileage.”

  We walked out with Trey, who was handling all this surprisingly well for someone who got roped into an experiment he knew very little about. At first, I assumed it was just because he had that kind of faith in Sydney. Then I realized there was more to it.

  “You’ve made my day letting me meet that guy,” Trey told her. “Maybe my year. He’s unreal. And he and Ms. T. . . . they’re really . . .?”

  Sydney winced. “I think so.”

  She walked out with Trey, giving me one last look, and I waited inside a couple of minutes, just so we wouldn’t be seen leaving together. Even in a strange neighborhood like this, we couldn’t take any chances. I knew I’d see her soon if I was able to pull off the dream, but that sense of melancholy clung to me over the frustrating state of our relationship. I didn’t want a dream. I wanted reality, and having it beyond my grasp bit at me deeply. Einstein had been right. The prescription might take the edge off, but there was no getting rid of your emotions. They were part of being alive.

  Back at my place, I kept an eye on the clock, trying to gauge how long it would take Sydney to get to her room and go to sleep. She’d said we’d talk about the spirit dream later, but since we hadn’t, I was reading that as a go-ahead. I was tired myself—a new experience—yet insanely anxious and curious about whether or not I’d be able to create the dream. I knew there’d be no shame in telling Sydney the truth. She’d understand and even be proud of what I’d done. But it was a reminder of my own initial fears about taking the mood stabilizer: that in freeing myself of spirit’s darkness, I’d also lose the ability to help those I cared about.

  When enough time had passed, I relaxed into the meditative state necessary for dream walking. Reaching within myself, I pulled on the magic that slept inside me, the spirit tied into my life essence. I didn’t come up empty, not exactly, but it was like trying to grasp water in your palm. It kept slipping through my fingers. Panic began to move through me, and I staunchly refused to let it get the best of me. Just like with my professor and the aura, I kept trying and trying to grip the magic. There was even less of it than I’d had then, and a spirit dream required far more than viewing an aura. Nonetheless, I was finally able to spin enough into the foundation of a dream. My bedroom vanished, and I found myself standing in the Getty Villa’s courtyard. Only, it looked nothing like it. The world around me flickered and faded, like bad TV reception. And it took every ounce of my energy to maintain even that shoddy of an effort. Wasting no more time, I pulled Sydney into it.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, looking around in surprise.

  “I’m tired,” I said. “Downside of my new and improved sleeping habits.”

  I saw the slightest glimmer of doubt in her eyes, and I could guess her thoughts. “I haven’t been drinking, Sage. I swear it. I really am just worn out. Let’s get Robin Hood in here fast because I don’t know how long I can do this.”

  She looked concerned but nodded in agreement. Reaching out to another person proved even more difficult, and it again took a few false starts, earning more surprise from Sydney. Eventually, Marcus appeared, and although his form was slightly insubstantial, his smirk was as annoying as ever.

  “I wondered when you guys would come calling again.” He frowned at the flickering surroundings. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s not important,” I said preemptively. “And we’re short on time.”

  Sydney took the cue and quickly told Marcus the new developments. Seeing him gape almost made the effort I was exerting worthwhile. “You actually did it? And used it? Did it work?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Sydney admitted. “So far, everything’s gone as planned—and it doesn’t show up on the skin. It’s more or less invisible.” Marcus lit up at that. One drawback of the indigo ink was that it made Alchemist rebels pretty conspicuous. “I’ve got a few other . . . experiments to do on my friend. But I feel pretty good about it, and as long as I can make the time, producing more ink for you shouldn’t be a problem. When will you be back?”

  “We expect to cross back in El Paso this week,” he said. “We’ve got a new person to ‘rescue,’ and then I should be able to make my way to you. Maybe a week and a half? Two at most? You think you’d have something by then?”

  She nodded. “Should be able to have the Alchemist ink for sure.” I could tell by a catch in her voice that she was still trying to figure out how to make
the original compulsion ink. “We can set up a drop at Adrian’s. Do you remember where he lives?”

  “How could I forget?” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Such fond memories of throwing him around there.”

  “Hey,” I said warningly. “I threw you around.”

  Sydney shot us both chastising looks. “I’ll make sure it’s there. Do you have cell phones yet?”

  “No, but we will when we’re back in the States, and Sabrina still has your contact information, so I can get it from her. We’ll get in touch and finalize things.”

  “Are we good then?” I asked. I was actually sweating. “I need to get some sleep.”

  “We should be,” said Sydney, eyes worried as she looked me over. “Get in touch as soon as you can, Marcus.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  I took that as a dismissal and let him fade away. I could see from Sydney’s face that she wanted to talk to me, but something was buzzing in my head, and I lost my remaining control on the dream. It fell to pieces around us, and I was just barely able to tell her, “We’ll talk tomorrow.” She grew translucent and disappeared.

  When I came to in the real world, I discovered the buzzing I’d heard was from my cell phone, which I’d left on vibrate on my bedside table. I was surprised to see Lissa’s name on the display and answered with shaking hands, astonished at how exhausted I felt.

  “Kind of late for you, isn’t it, Your Majesty?”

  “You’re on a human schedule,” she reminded me, amusement in her voice.

  “Ah. Right. It all starts to run together after a while. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Nothing social, I’m afraid. You’re not going to like this, but I’ve got to play the queen card and summon you to Court. I know it’s a pain. I know, and I’m sorry. Really.”

  “What’s going on?” Dread built in my stomach.

  “Sonya wants your help on what to do with Olive and the blood. She says the magic is starting to fade out from it, and no one knows how to stop it.”