“I think… I think Keith Darnell is corrupt,” I said at last. “He’s selfish and immoral. He has no concern for others and hurts people to further his own ends. He’s willing to lie, cheat, and steal to get what he wants.” I hesitated before continuing. “But… I don’t think he’s been blinded to what vampires are. I don’t think he’s too close to them or in danger of falling in with them in the future. That being said, I also don’t think he should be allowed to do Alchemist work for the foreseeable future. Whether that would mean locking him up or just putting him on probation is up to you. His past actions show he doesn’t take our missions seriously, but that’s because of selfishness. Not because of an unnatural attachment to them. He… well, to be blunt, is just a bad person.”
Silence met me, save for the frantic scrawling of pens as the clipboard Alchemists made their notes. I dared a glance at Tom, afraid of what I’d see after completely trashing his son. To my astonishment, Tom looked… relieved. And grateful. In fact, he seemed on the verge of tears. Catching my eye, he mouthed, Thank you. Amazing. I had just proclaimed Keith to be a horrible human being in every way possible. But none of that mattered to his father, so long as I didn’t accuse Keith of being in league with vampires. I could’ve called Keith a murderer, and Tom would have probably still been grateful if it meant Keith wasn’t chummy with the enemy.
It bothered me and again made me wonder who the real monsters were in all of this. The group I’d left back in Palm Springs was a hundred times more moral than Keith.
“Thank you, Miss Sage,” said Gray Bun, finishing up her notes. “You’ve been extremely helpful, and we’ll take this into consideration as we make our decision. You may go now. If you step into the hall, you’ll find Zeke waiting to take you out.”
It was an abrupt dismissal, but that was typical of Alchemists. Efficient. To the point. I gave a polite nod of farewell and one last glance at Keith before opening the door. As soon as it shut behind me, I found the hallway mercifully silent. I could no longer hear Keith.
Zeke, as it turned out, was the Alchemist who had originally led me in. “All set?” he asked.
“So it seems,” I said, still a bit stunned over what had just taken place. I knew now that my earlier debriefing on the Palm Springs situation had simply been a convenience for the Alchemists. I’d been in the area, so why not have an in-person meeting? It hadn’t been essential. This—seeing Keith—had been the real purpose of my cross-country trip.
As we walked back down the hallway, something caught my attention that I hadn’t noticed before. One of the doors had a fair amount of security on it—more so than the room I’d just been in. Along with the lights and keypad, there was also a card reader. At the top of the door was a deadbolt that locked from outside. Nothing fancy, but it was clearly meant to keep whatever was behind the door inside.
I stopped in spite of myself and studied the door for a few moments. Then, I kept walking, knowing better than to say anything. Good Alchemists didn’t ask questions.
Zeke, seeing my gaze, came to a halt. He glanced at me, then the door, and then back at me. “Do you want… do you want to see what’s in there?” His eyes darted quickly to the door we’d emerged from. He was low-ranking, I knew, and clearly feared getting in trouble with the others. At the same time, there was an eagerness that suggested he was excited about the secrets he kept, secrets he couldn’t share with others. I was a safe outlet.
“I guess it depends on what’s in there,” I said.
“It’s the reason for what we do,” he said mysteriously. “Take a look, and you’ll understand why our goals are so important.”
Deciding to risk it, he flashed a card over the reader and then punched in another long code. A light on the door turned green, and he slid open the deadbolt. I’d half-expected another dim room, but the light was so bright inside, it almost hurt my eyes. I put a hand up to my forehead to shield myself.
“It’s a type of light therapy,” Zeke explained apologetically. “You know how people in cloudy regions have sun lamps? Same kind of rays. The hope is that it’ll make people like him a little more human again—or at least discourage them from thinking they’re Strigoi.”
At first, I was too dazzled to figure out what he meant. Then, across the empty room, I saw a jail cell. Large metal bars covered the entrance, which was locked with another card reader and keypad. It seemed like overkill when I caught sight of the man inside. He was older than me, mid-twenties if I had to guess, and had a disheveled appearance that made Keith look neat and tidy. The man was gaunt and curled up in a corner, arms draped over his eyes against the light. He wore handcuffs and feet cuffs and clearly wasn’t going anywhere. At our entrance, he dared a peek at us and then uncovered more of his face.
A chill ran through me. The man was human, but his expression was as cold and evil as any Strigoi I’d ever seen. His gray eyes were predatory. Emotionless, like the kinds of murderers who had no sense of empathy for other people.
“Have you brought me dinner?” he asked in a raspy voice that had to be faked. “A nice young girl, I see. Skinnier than I’d like, but I’m sure her blood is still succulent.”
“Liam,” said Zeke with a weary patience. “You know where your dinner is.” He pointed to an untouched tray of food in the cell that looked like it had gone cold long ago. Chicken nuggets, green beans, and a sugar cookie. “He almost never eats anything,” Zeke explained to me. “It’s why he’s so thin. Keeps insisting on blood.”
“What… what is he?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off of Liam. It was a silly question, of course. Liam was clearly human, and yet… there was something about him that wasn’t right.
“A corrupt soul who wants to be Strigoi,” said Zeke. “Some guardians found him serving those monsters and delivered him to us. We’ve tried to rehabilitate him but with no luck. He keeps going on and on about how great the Strigoi are and how he’ll get back to them one day and make us pay. In the meantime, he does his best to pretend he’s one of them.”
“Oh,” said Liam, with a sly smile, “I will be one of them. They will reward my loyalty and suffering. They will awaken me, and I will become powerful beyond your miniscule mortal dreams. I will live forever and come for you—all of you. I will feast on your blood and savor every drop. You Alchemists pull your strings and think you control everything. You delude yourselves. You control nothing. You are nothing.”
“See?” said Zeke, shaking his head. “Pathetic. And yet, this is what could happen if we didn’t do the job we did. Other humans could become like him—selling their souls for the hollow promise of immortality.” He made the Alchemist sign against evil, a small cross on his shoulder, and I found myself echoing it. “I don’t like being in here, but sometimes… sometimes it’s a good reminder of why we have to keep the Moroi and the others in the shadows. Of why we can’t let ourselves be taken in by them.”
I knew in the back of my mind that there was a huge difference in the way Moroi and Strigoi interacted with humans. Still, I couldn’t formulate any arguments while in front of Liam. He had me too dumbstruck—and afraid. It was easy to believe every word the Alchemists said. This was what we were fighting against. This was the nightmare we couldn’t allow to happen.
I didn’t know what to say, but Zeke didn’t seem to expect much.
“Come on. Let’s go.” To Liam, he added, “And you’d better eat that food because you aren’t getting any more until morning. I don’t care how cold and hard it is.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “What do I care about human food when soon I’ll be drinking the nectar of the gods? Your blood will be warm on my lips, yours and your pretty girl’s.” He began to laugh then, a sound far more disturbing than any of Keith’s screams.
That laughter continued as Zeke led me out of the room. The door shut behind us, and I found myself standing in the hall, numbed. Zeke regarded me with concern.
“I’m sorry… I probably shouldn’t have shown you that.”
&nbs
p; I shook my head slowly. “No… you were right. It’s good for us to see. To understand what we’re doing. I always knew… but I didn’t expect anything like that.”
I tried to shift my thoughts back to everyday things and wipe that horror from my mind. I looked down at my coffee. It was untouched and had grown lukewarm. I grimaced.
“Can I get more coffee before we go?” I needed something normal. Something human.
“Sure.”
Zeke led me back to the lounge. The pot I’d made was still hot. I dumped out my old coffee and poured some new. As I did, the door burst open, and a distraught Tom Darnell came in. He seemed surprised to see anyone here and pushed past us, sitting on the couch and burying his face in his hands. Zeke and I exchanged uncertain looks.
“Mr. Darnell,” I began. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer me right away. He kept his face covered, his body shaking with silent sobs. I was about to leave when he looked up at me, though I got the feeling he wasn’t actually seeing me. “They decided,” he said. “They decided about Keith.”
“Already?” I asked, startled. Zeke and I had only spent about five minutes with Liam.
Tom nodded morosely. “They’re sending him back… back to Re-education.”
I couldn’t believe it. “But I… but I told them! I told them he’s not in league with vampires. He believes what… the rest of us believe. It was his choices that were bad.”
“I know. But they said we can’t take the risk. Even if Keith seems like he doesn’t care about them—even if believes he doesn’t—the fact remains he still set up a deal with one. They’re worried that willingness to go into that kind of partnership might subconsciously influence him. Best to take care of things now. They’re… they’re probably right. This is for the best.”
That image of Keith pounding on the glass and begging not to go back flashed through my mind. “I’m sorry, Mr. Darnell.”
Tom’s distraught gaze focused on me a little bit more. “Don’t apologize, Sydney. You’ve done so much… so much for Keith. Because of what you told them, they’re going to reduce his time in Re-education. That means so much to me. Thank you.”
My stomach twisted. Because of me, Keith had lost an eye. Because of me, Keith had gone to Re-education in the first place. Again, the sentiment came to me: he deserved to suffer in some way, but he didn’t deserve this.
“They were right about you,” Tom added. He was trying to smile but failing. “What a stellar example you are. So dedicated. Your father must be so proud. I don’t know how you live with those creatures every day and still keep your head about you. Other Alchemists could learn a lot from you. You understand what responsibility and duty are.”
Since I’d flown out of Palm Springs yesterday, I’d actually been thinking a lot about the group I’d left behind—when the Alchemists weren’t distracting me with prisoners, of course. Jill, Adrian, Eddie, and even Angeline… frustrating at times, but in the end, they were people I’d grown to know and care about. Despite all the running around they made me do, I’d missed that motley group almost the instant I left California. Something inside me seemed empty when they weren’t around.
Now, feeling that way confused me. Was I blurring the lines between friendship and duty? If Keith had gotten in trouble for one small association with a vampire, how much worse was I? And how close were any of us to becoming like Liam?
Zeke’s words rang inside my head: We can’t let ourselves be taken in by them.
And what Tom had just said: You understand what responsibility and duty are.
He was watching me expectantly, and I managed a smile as I pushed down all my fears. “Thank you, sir,” I said. “I do what I can.”
CHAPTER 2
I DIDN’T SLEEP THAT NIGHT. Part of it was simply the time change. My flight back to Palm Springs was scheduled for six in the morning—which was three in the morning in the time zone my body still thought it was in. Sleeping seemed pointless.
And, of course, there was the teeny-tiny fact that it was kind of hard to relax after everything I’d witnessed over at the Alchemist bunker. If I wasn’t envisioning Liam’s freaky eyes, then I was replaying the constant warnings I’d heard about those who got too close to vampires.
It didn’t help the situation that I had an inbox full of messages from the gang in Palm Springs. Normally, I checked my e-mail automatically on my phone when I was out and about. Now, in my hotel room, staring at the various messages, I found myself filled with doubt. Were these truly professional? Were they too friendly? Did they blur the lines of Alchemist protocol? After seeing what had happened to Keith, it was more obvious than ever that it didn’t take much to get in trouble with my organization.
One message was from Jill, with a subject line reading: Angeline… sigh. This wasn’t a surprise to me, and I didn’t bother reading it yet. Angeline Dawes, a dhampir recruited to be Jill’s roommate and provide an extra layer of security, had had a little trouble fitting into Amberwood. She was always in trouble for something, and I knew whatever it was this time, there was nothing I could do about it right now.
Another message was from Angeline herself. I also didn’t read it. The subject was: READ THIS! SO FUNNY! Angeline had only recently discovered e-mail. She had not, so it seemed, discovered how to turn off the caps-lock key. She also had no discrimination when it came to forwarding jokes, financial scams, or virus warnings. And speaking of that last one… we’d had to finally install child protection software on her laptop, in order to block her from certain websites and ads. That had come after she’d accidentally downloaded four viruses.
It was the last e-mail in my inbox that gave me pause. It was from Adrian Ivashkov, the only person in our group who wasn’t posing as a student at Amberwood Preparatory School. Adrian was a twenty-one-year-old Moroi, so it would have been kind of a stretch passing him off in high school. Adrian was along because he and Jill had a psychic bond that had been inadvertently created when he’d used his magic to save her life. All Moroi wielded some type of elemental magic, and his was spirit—a mysterious element tied to the mind and healing. The bond allowed Jill to see Adrian’s thoughts and emotions, which was troubling to both of them. His staying near her helped them work out some of the bond’s kinks. Also, Adrian had nothing better to do.
His message’s subject was: SEND HELP IMMEDIATELY. Unlike Angeline, Adrian knew the rules of capitalization and was simply going for dramatic effect. I also knew that if I had any doubts about which of my messages related to my job, this was hands-down the most nonprofessional one in the set. Adrian wasn’t my responsibility. Yet, I clicked the message anyway.
Day 24. Situation is growing worse. My captors continue to find new and horrific ways to torture me. When not working, Agent Scarlet spends her days examining fabric swatches for bridesmaid dresses and going on about how in love she is. This usually causes Agent Boring Borscht to regale us with stories of Russian weddings that are even more boring than his usual ones. My attempts at escape have been thwarted thus far. Also, I am out of cigarettes. Any assistance or tobacco products you can send will be greatly appreciated.
—Prisoner 24601
I began smiling in spite of myself. Adrian sent me some kind of message like this nearly every day. This summer, we had learned that those who were forcibly turned Strigoi could be turned back with the use of spirit. It was still a tricky, complicated process… made more so by the fact that there were so few spirit users. Even more recent events had suggested that those restored from being Strigoi could never be turned again. That had electrified Alchemists and Moroi alike. If there was some magical way to prevent Strigoi conversion, freaks like Liam would no longer be a problem.
That was where Sonya Karp and Dimitri Belikov came in—or, as Adrian called them in his angst-filled letters, “Agent Scarlet” and “Agent Boring Borscht.” Sonya was a Moroi; Dimitri was a dhampir. Both had once been Strigoi and had been saved by spirit magic. The two of them had come to Palm Springs
last month to work with Adrian in a sort of think tank to figure out what might protect against Strigoi turning. It was an extremely important task, one that could have huge ramifications if successful. Sonya and Dimitri were some of the hardest working people I knew—which didn’t always mesh with Adrian’s style.
A lot of their work involved slow, painstaking experiments—many involving Eddie Castile, a dhampir who was also undercover at Amberwood. He was serving as the control subject since, unlike Dimitri, Eddie was a dhampir untouched by spirit or a Strigoi history. There wasn’t much I could do to help Adrian with his frustration over his research group—and he knew it. He just liked playing up the drama and venting to me. Mindful of what was essential and nonessential in the Alchemist world, I was on the verge of deleting the message, but…
One thing made me hesitate. Adrian had signed his e-mail with a reference to Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. It was a book about the French Revolution that was so thick, it could easily double as a weapon. I had read it in both French and English. Considering Adrian had once gotten bored while reading a particularly long menu, I had a hard time imagining he’d read the Hugo book in any language. So how did he know the reference? It doesn’t matter, Sydney, a stern Alchemist voice said inside my head. Delete it. It’s irrelevant. Adrian’s literary knowledge (or lack thereof) is no concern of yours.
But I couldn’t do it. I had to know. This was the kind of detail that would drive me crazy. I wrote back with a quick message: How do you know about 24601? I refuse to believe you read the book. You saw the musical, right?
I hit send and received a response back from him almost immediately: SparkNotes.
Typical. I laughed out loud and immediately felt guilty. I shouldn’t have responded. This was my personal e-mail account, but if the Alchemists ever felt the need to investigate me, they’d have no qualms about accessing it. This kind of thing was damning, and I deleted the e-mail exchange—not that it mattered. No data was ever truly lost.
The Golden Lily: A Bloodlines Novel Page 2