Julia anxiously refolded a wet cloth and placed it on Kristin's forehead. "We don't know. She's been like this since this morning."
I stared incredulously. "Then she needs to see a doctor! We need to call someone now. I'll get Mrs. Weathers - "
"No!" Julia jumped up and caught hold of my arm. "You can't. The reason she's like this... well, we think it's because of the tattoo."
"Tattoo?"
One of the other girls caught hold of Kristin's wrist and turned it so that I could see the inside. There, tattooed in glittering coppery ink on her dusky skin, was a daisy. I remembered Kristin pining for a celestial tattoo, but last I knew, she couldn't afford it. "When did she get this?"
"Earlier today," said Julia. She looked abashed. "I lent her the money."
I stared at that sparkling flower, so pretty and seemingly harmless. I had no doubt it was what was causing this fit. Whatever was mixed with the ink to provide the high wasn't reacting correctly with her system.
"She needs a doctor," I said firmly.
"You can't. We'll have to tell them about the tattoos," said the girl who had been holding Kristin's hand. "No one believed Trey, but if they saw something like this... well, everything at Nevermore could be shut down."
Good! I thought. But to my astonishment, her words were met with nods from the other gathered girls. Were they crazy? How many of them had those ridiculous tattoos? And was protecting them really more important than Kristin's life?
Julia swallowed and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "We were hoping this might pass. Maybe she needs a little time to adjust."
Kristin moaned. One of her legs trembled like it was having a muscle spasm and then stilled. Her eyes and their large pupils stared off blankly, and her breathing was shallow.
"She's had all day!" I pointed out. "You guys, she could die."
"How do you know?" asked Julia in astonishment.
I didn't, not for sure. But every once in a while, Alchemist tattoos didn't take either. In ninety-nine percent of the cases, human bodies accepted the vampire blood used in an Alchemist tattoo, allowing its properties to infuse with our own, kind of like a low-grade dhampir. We gained good stamina and long life, though hardly got the amazing physical abilities dhampirs received. The blood was too diluted for that. Even so, there was always the occasional person who got sick from an Alchemist tattoo. The blood poisoned them. It was made worse because the gold and other chemicals worked to keep the blood infused in the skin, so it never had a chance to leave. Those left untreated died.
Vampire blood wouldn't cause a euphoric high, so I didn't believe there was any in this tattoo. But the treatment we used for Alchemist tattoos relied on breaking down the metallic components of the tattoo in order to release the blood, allowing the body then to clear it naturally. I had to assume the same principle would work here. Only, I didn't know the exact formula for the Alchemist compound and wasn't even sure it would break down copper like it did gold.
I bit my lip, thinking, and finally made a decision. "I'll be right back," I told them, racing to my room. All the while, an inner voice chastised me for foolishness. I had no business attempting what I was about to. I should go straight to Mrs. Weathers.
Instead, I opened my room door and found Jill with her laptop. "Hey, Sydney," she said, smiling. "I'm IM-ing with Lee and - " She did a double take.
"What's wrong?"
I turned on my own laptop and set it on the bed. While it booted up, I reached for a small metal suitcase I'd carefully packed but never expected to use. "Can you go get me some water? Quickly?"
Jill hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Be right back," she said, jumping off her bed.
While she was gone, I unlocked the case with a key I always kept on me. Inside it were small amounts of dozens of Alchemist compounds, the kinds of substances we mixed together and used as part of our jobs. Some ingredients - like the ones I used to dissolve Strigoi bodies - I had lots of. Others, I had only a sampling of. My laptop finished booting up, and I logged onto the Alchemist database. A few searches and I soon had the formula for antitattoo treatment pulled up.
Jill returned then, carrying a cup brimming with water. "Is this enough? If we were in any other climate, I could've pulled it straight from the air." "It's fine," I said, glad the climate had kept her from magic.
I scanned the formula, analyzing which ingredients did what. I mentally deleted the ones I was certain were specific to gold. A couple I didn't even have, but I was pretty sure they were simply for skin comfort and weren't requisite. I began pulling out ingredients from my kit, carefully measuring them - though still moving as quickly as possible - into another cup. I made substitutions where necessary and added an ingredient I was certain would break down copper, though the amount required was only a guess on my part. When I finished, I took the water from Jill and added the same amount that was in the original instructions. The final result was a liquid that reminded me of iodine.
I lifted it up and felt a little like a mad scientist. Jill had watched me without comment the entire time, sensing the urgency. Her face was filled with concern, but she was biting back all the questions I knew she had. She followed me when I left the room and headed back to Kristin's. More girls were there than before, and it was honestly a wonder Mrs. Weathers didn't just hear the racket. For a group so intent on protecting their precious tattoos, they weren't being particularly covert.
I returned to Kristin's bedside, finding her unchanged. "Expose her wrist again, and hold her arm as still as possible for me." I didn't direct the command to anyone but put enough force into it that I felt certain someone would obey. I was right. "If this doesn't work, we get a doctor." My voice left no room for argument.
Julia looked paler than Jill but gave a weak a nod of acceptance. I took the washcloth she'd been using and dipped it into my cup. I'd never actually seen this done and had to guess about how to apply it. I made a silent prayer and then pressed the washcloth against the tattoo on Kristin's wrist.
She let out a strangled cry, and her whole body bucked up. A couple nearby girls instinctively helped hold her down. Tendrils of smoke curled up from where I was holding the washcloth against her, and I smelled a sharp, acrid odor. Waiting what I hoped was an acceptable amount of time, I finally removed the washcloth.