"I never said I wanted to do any of those things!" I hissed. "I just wanted to find out more about them."
"And I bet you'd really love to know if there are factions in the Alchemists working with the Warriors."
He was right. I did want to know that.
He caught hold of my hand. "Sydney, I know this is a lot to take in. I don't blame you for doubting, and that's exactly why we need you. You're smart. You're observant. You question. And just like me, those questions are going to get you in trouble - if they haven't already. Get out now while you can - on your own terms."
"I just met you! I'm not breaking away from the group that raised me." I pulled my hand back. "I was willing to hear you guys out, but now you've gone too far."
I turned and headed toward the door, unwilling to listen anymore. Yet as I walked away, his words crawled over me. Even though I'd been forgiven for my involvement with Rose, my record still probably had a black mark. And even though I hadn't pushed hard about Marcus Finch, had even bringing him up raised Stanton's suspicions? How long until little things added up?
I pushed open the doors and stepped out into bright sunlight. It chased away the darkness of what I'd just heard. Marcus was right behind me and touched my shoulder.
"Sydney I'm sorry. I'm not trying to scare you." That cocky attitude was gone. He was deadly earnest. "I just sense something about you . . . something that resonates with me. I think we're on the same side, that we want the same things. We've both gotten close to the Moroi. We want to help them - without being lied to or used."
I eyed him warily. "Go on."
"Please, hear us out."
"I thought I just did."
"You heard me out," he corrected. "I want you to meet the others and hear their stories. They'll tell you more about what they went through. They'll tell you about this." He tapped his tattoo. "And when you hear more about that task . . . well, I think you'll want to do it."
"Right. The big, mind-blowing thing that's going to unveil an Alchemist-Warrior conspiracy." He remained serious, which bothered me more than if he'd suddenly revealed this to be one big joke. "So, what? You're going to get the others, and we'll all have an arcade day?"
He shook his head. "Too dangerous. I'll gather them in some other place and then tell you where to meet us, but it's got to be last minute again. Can't risk detection."
"I can't go on some epic road trip," I warned. "No one cares much about LA trips, but traipsing all over the state is going to get that unwanted attention you were talking about."
"I know, I know. It'll be close. I just have to make sure it's secure." He was back to his excited, cheery self. "Will you do it? Come join us?"
In spite of myself, I was curious. Even though I refused to believe in any connection between the Warriors and the Alchemists, I wanted to find out what leads this group thought they had. I also just wanted to see this mysterious group of his, period. What had Adrian called them? Marcus's Merry Men? And, of course, there was the tattoo. Marcus kept alluding to its secrets but still hadn't given me the details.
"I'll do it," I said at last. "On one condition."
"Name it."
"I want to bring someone with me," I said. "You can trust him, I swear. But after Sabrina pulled a gun on me, you have to understand why I'd be a little nervous about walking into your clique."
Marcus looked like he might almost consider it but then suddenly recoiled. "Not Adrian?"
"No, no. This guy's a dhampir. No one who'd be interested in turning you over to the Alchemists, especially if you really are working to protect Moroi. You say you've got a good feeling about me? Then trust me that you have nothing to worry about with him. He'd just be there to make me feel a little safer."
"You have nothing to worry about with us," Marcus said. "We won't hurt you."
"I want to believe you. But I don't quite have that same good feeling you have yet."
He didn't say anything right away and then burst into laughter. "Fair enough. Bring your friend." He shook my hand, as though we were sealing some great bargain. "I'll be in touch later with the details. You won't regret it, Sydney. I swear it."
Chapter Eleven
MARCUS DISAPPEARED TO WHEREVER it was he was hiding out, and I drove home. What he'd said to me still seemed outlandish. I kept telling myself none of it could be true. It made things a lot easier to handle.
Back at Amberwood, I found the usual buzz of evening student activity. It felt comforting after my shocking outing, far removed from fanatics and cryptic spells. My phone buzzed with a text message the minute I stepped into my dorm room. It was from Jill: Come see us when you're back. I sighed. No rest for the wicked, it would seem. I left my purse in my room and then trudged down to the second floor, unsure of what I'd find.
Jill opened her door, looking immensely relieved to see me. "Thank God. We have a situation."
"We always have a situation," I said. I stepped inside and saw Angeline sitting on the floor, back against the wall and a miserable expression on her face. "What happened?"
She looked up quickly. "It wasn't my fault."
The sinking feeling in my stomach increased. "It never is, is it? I repeat: what happened?"
When Angeline refused to say, Jill spoke up. "She gave Trey a concussion with an algebra book."
Before I could even start to parse that, Angeline leapt to her feet. "The doctor said it wasn't a concussion!"
"Wait." I glanced between them, half hoping they'd burst into laughter at the joke they must be playing on me. "You did something to Trey that actually required medical attention?"
"I barely touched him," she insisted.
I sat down on Jill's bed and resisted the urge to crawl under its covers. "No. You can't do this. Not again. What did the principal say? Oh, God. Where are we going to send you?" After Angeline's brawl with a motivational group, it had been made very clear that further fighting would get her expelled.
"Eddie took the blame," said Jill. A small smile crossed her face as she spoke. "There weren't really many witnesses, so Eddie said they were playing around in the library and tossing the book back and forth. He claimed he got careless and threw the book too hard . . . and that it accidentally hit Trey on the head."
Angeline nodded. "That's kind of what really happened with us."
"No, it wasn't," protested Jill. "I saw it. You got mad when Trey told you it shouldn't be that hard to understand that x always has a different value."
"He implied that I was stupid!"
Variables didn't seem like too hard a concept to me, but I could tell under Angeline's bravado that she really was flustered. I always had the impression that back among the Keepers, Angeline had been a queen among her peers. Here she was constantly trying to keep up academically and socially adrift in a world very different from the one she'd grown up in. That would make anyone insecure. And while I questioned if Trey had ever said she was stupid, I could understand how some of his snarky commentary could be perceived that way.
"Did Eddie get in any serious trouble?" I asked. I doubted he'd get expelled for something like this, but it would be just my luck that he'd get the punishment he'd saved Angeline from.
"Detention," said Jill.
"He accepted it very bravely," added Angeline.
"I'm sure he did," I said, wondering if either girl knew they were wearing mirror expressions of adoration. "Look, Angeline, I know the tutoring process must be frustrating, but you have to watch your temper, okay? Trey's just trying to help."
She looked skeptical. "He's got kind of an attitude sometimes."
"I know, but people aren't exactly lining up to fill his position. We need you here. Jill needs you here. Eddie needs you here." I saw some of her indignation fade at the mention of her friends and duty. "Please try to work with Trey."
She gave a weak nod, and I stood up to leave. Jill hurried after me into the hallway. "Hey, Sydney? How was your outing with Marcus?"
"It was fine," I said, certainly not about to dredge up Marcus's alarming revelations. "Informative. And I learned how to play Skee-Ball."
Jill almost looked offended. "You played Skee-Ball? I thought you were supposed to be learning about the Alchemists' secret history."
"We multitasked," I said, not liking her tone.
I left before she could comment further and texted Eddie when I reached my room. I heard what happened. Sorry. And thanks. His response was quick: At least it wasn't a concussion.
I braced myself for snark when I went to meet Adrian the next day. Jill had probably told him about my arcade trip, which would probably elicit a comment like, "Nice to know you're so dedicated to crack the Alchemists. Way to keep your eye on the ball."
When I pulled up in front of Adrian's apartment building, he was already waiting out front for me. As soon as I saw his grim face, my heart stopped. I jumped out of the car, just barely pausing to grab the keys as I went.
"What's wrong?" I exclaimed, jogging up to him.
He rested a hand on my shoulder, but I was too worried to care about the touch. "Sydney, I don't want you to freak out. There's no lasting damage."
I looked him over. "Are you okay? Were you hurt?"
For a moment, his somber expression turned puzzled. Then, he understood. "Oh, you think it's me? No, I'm fine. Come on."
He led me around the back of his building, to the private parking lot used by residents. I came to a halt, my jaw dropping as I took in the terrible, ghastly scene. A couple other residents were milling around, and a police officer stood nearby taking notes. Around us, seven parked cars had their tires slashed.
Including the Mustang.
"No!"
I ran over to its side, kneeling and examining the damage. I felt like I was in the middle of a war, kneeling by a fallen comrade on the battlefield. I was practically on the verge of shouting, "Don't you die on me!"
Adrian crouched beside me. "The tires can be replaced. I think my insurance will even cover it."
I was still horrified. "Who did this?"
He shrugged. "Some kids, I guess. They hit a few cars one block over yesterday."
"And you didn't think that was worth mentioning to me?"
"Well, I didn't know they were going to come here too. Besides, I knew you'd flip out and want to set up twenty-four-hour surveillance on this place."
"That's not a bad idea." I glanced up at his building. "You should talk to the landlord about it."
Adrian didn't seem nearly as concerned as he should have been. "I don't know that he'd go for it. I mean, this isn't really a dangerous neighborhood."
I pointed at the Mustang. "Then how come this happened?"
Even though we could take Latte to Los Angeles, we still had to wait around to finish up with the police and then get a tow truck. I made sure the tow truck driver knew that he better not get a scratch on the car, and then I watched mournfully as it was hauled away. Once that sunny splash of yellow disappeared around a corner, I turned to Adrian.
"Ready to go?"
"Do we have enough time?"
I looked at my cell phone and groaned. We'd burned up a lot of time handling the vandalism aftermath. And yet, I hated to wait until tomorrow, seeing as I'd already lost time yesterday while dealing with Marcus. I called Ms. Terwilliger and asked if she'd cover for me if I came in after curfew.
"Yes, yes, of course," she said, in a tone that suggested she couldn't understand why I'd even bothered calling her. "Just talk to more of those girls."
Ms. Terwilliger had given me six names. We'd already taken care of Wendy Stone. Three of the girls lived relatively close together, and they were our goal tonight. The last two were closer to the coast, and we hoped to reach them tomorrow. Adrian tried making conversation with me throughout the drive, but my mind was still on the Mustang.
"God, I'm an idiot," I said, once we'd almost reached our destination.
"That's never a term I'd use to describe you," he said promptly. "Articulate. Well dressed. Smart. Organized. Beautiful. I'd use those terms, but never 'idiot.'"
I nearly asked why "beautiful" had come after "organized" and then remembered the actual concern. "I'm obsessing about that car when girls' lives are on the line. It's stupid. My priorities are messed up."
My eyes were on the road, but I could tell he was smiling. "If your priorities were really messed up, you would've followed that tow truck. Yet here you are, off to help perfect strangers. That's a noble thing, Sage."
"Don't rule yourself out," I said. "You're pretty noble too, going on all these outings with me."
"Well, it's not the same as Skee-Ball, but it'll have to do. How was that anyway? Did you really learn anything?"
"I learned a lot - some pretty unbelievable stuff, actually. I'm still waiting to get some proof, though."
Luck was with us initially. The first two girls were home, though their reactions were similar to Wendy Stone's. This time, I'd had the foresight to bring the newspaper article, in the hopes it would make a stronger impression. That ghastly picture at least gave them pause, but I left not knowing if they'd really take me seriously or use the agate charms.