“This Marcus,” I said. “Was he a guardian?”
“A human. He was about your age then. He knew all about the hunters.”
“I suppose he would if he got in touch with them,” Dimitri speculated. “But he must be friendly to Moroi if he helped you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Clarence. “Very much so.”
Dimitri looked over at me. “Do you think—”
“Yes,” I said, guessing his question. “I’ll see if we can find this Marcus guy. It’d be nice to get a source of info that’s not one of these crazy warriors. I’m also going to report on all of this, actually.”
“Me too,” said Dimitri.
Although Clarence wasn’t the expert on the hunters that this mysterious Marcus was, the old Moroi still had a surprising amount of info to share—info none of us had wanted to hear before. He verified what we’d already deduced, about the hunters’ “devotion to the light.” The group’s focus was Strigoi (for now), and all of their hunts were carefully planned and organized. They had a ritualized set of behaviors, particularly in regard to their younger members—which was why the rogue group harassing Clarence had been stopped. From what Clarence had gathered, the group was quite tough on their new recruits, emphasizing discipline and excellence.
With the clock ticking down on Angeline’s reprieve, we needed to wrap things up shortly thereafter. I was also in charge of taking Adrian home, since we figured it’d be best to eliminate any chance of Dimitri being followed back to Clarence’s. Besides, I could tell Dimitri was anxious to begin putting certain things in motion. He wanted to finalize Sonya’s departure and also confer with the guardians—in case Jill needed to be removed. Her face reflected what I felt about that possible outcome. We’d both become attached to Amberwood.
While he was giving some last-minute instructions to Eddie, I pulled Sonya aside for a quiet word. “I… I’ve been thinking about something,” I told her.
She studied me carefully, probably reading my aura and other body language. “What is it?” she asked.
“If you want… if you really want it, you can have some of my blood.”
It was a huge, huge admission. Was it something I wanted to do? No. Absolutely not. I still had the same instinctive fears about giving my blood to Moroi, even for scientific purposes. And yet, yesterday’s events—and even the alley attack—had begun making me re-analyze my worldview. Vampires weren’t the only monsters out there. They were hardly monsters at all, especially next to these vampire hunters. How could I judge the enemy on race? I was being reminded more and more that humans were just as capable as vampires of evil—and that vampires were capable of good. It was actions that mattered, and Sonya and Dimitri’s were noble ones. They were fighting to destroy the ultimate evil of all, and as squeamish as I felt about giving my blood, I knew the right thing was to help them.
Sonya knew what a sacrifice this was for me. Her face stayed calm—no whoops of joy—and she nodded solemnly. “I have my collection kit here. I can take a sample before you leave, if you’re sure.”
So soon? Well, why not. It was best to get it over with—especially if Sonya would be leaving town soon anyway. We did it in the kitchen, which seemed slightly more sanitary than the living room. Sonya was no doctor, but whatever training she’d had, it was right in line with what I’d observed when getting physicals. Antiseptic, gloves, a new syringe. All the right procedures were followed, and after a quick poke of the needle, she had my blood sample.
“Thank you, Sydney,” she said, handing me a plastic bandage. “I know how difficult this must have been for you. Believe me, this could really help us.”
“I want to help,” I told her. “I really do.”
She smiled. “I know. And we need all the help we can get. After being one of them…” Her smile faded. “Well, I believe more than ever that their evil needs to be stopped. You might be the key.”
For one second, her words inspired me—that I might somehow play a greater role in the fight against evil and possibly even stop it. Immediately, that thought was replaced by my old panic. No. No. I wasn’t special. I didn’t want to be. I would make a good faith effort to help, but surely nothing would come of it.
I returned to fetch the others. Adrian and Jill were having some earnest conversation in the corner. Eddie and Angeline were also talking, and I overheard her say, “I’ll stay with Jill more at school, just to be safe. We can’t have her be part of some accident or mistaken identity.”
Eddie nodded and looked impressed that she’d suggested it. “Agreed.” Amazing, I thought.
I left soon with my carpool and swung by downtown to drop Adrian off. As I pulled up in front of his building, I saw something that made my jaw drop. Awe and disbelief rolled through me. In what was probably the most ungraceful parking job I’d ever done in my life, I brought Latte to an abrupt stop and was out of the car the second I pulled my keys from the ignition. The others followed moments later.
“What,” I breathed. “Is that?”
“Oh,” said Adrian casually. “That’s my new car.”
I took a few steps forward and then stopped, afraid to approach it in the same way someone hesitated before royalty. “It’s a 1967 Ford Mustang convertible,” I said, knowing my eyes were probably bugging out of my face. I began walking around it. “The year they did a major overhaul and increased the size to keep up with other high-powered competition. See? It’s the first model with the concave tail lights but the last to have the Ford block lettering up front until 1974.”
“What in the world is that color?” asked Eddie, not sounding impressed at all.
“Springtime Yellow,” Adrian and I said in unison.
“I would’ve guessed Lemon Chiffon,” said Eddie. “Maybe you can get it repainted.”
“No!” I exclaimed. I tossed my purse over onto the grass and carefully touched the car’s side. Brayden’s beautiful new Mustang suddenly seemed so ordinary. “It’s been touched up, obviously, but this is a classic color. Which engine code is this? C, right?”
“Um… not sure,” said Adrian. “I know it’s got a V-8 engine.”
“Of course it does,” I said. It was hard not to roll my eyes. “A 289. I want to know what the horsepower is.”
“It’s probably in the paperwork,” Adrian said lamely.
It was at that moment that I really processed Adrian’s earlier words. I looked up at him, knowing my face must be filled with disbelief. “This is really your car?”
“Yup,” he said. “I told you. The old man spotted me the money for one.”
“And you got this one?” I peered in through the window. “Nice. Black interior, manual transmission.”
“Yeah,” said Adrian, a note of unease in his voice. “That’s the problem.”
I glanced back. “What is? The black is great. And the leather’s condition is fantastic. So is the rest of the car.”
“No, not the interior. The transmission. I can’t drive a stick.”
I froze. “You can’t drive a stick?”
“Neither can I,” said Jill.
“You don’t have a license,” I reminded her. Although, my mother had taught me to drive before I had a license—both automatic and manual transmission. I knew I shouldn’t be surprised the stick was a lost art, as savage as such a lack seemed to me. That paled, of course, in comparison to the other obvious problem. “Why on earth would you buy a car like this if you can’t drive a stick? There are dozens of cars—new cars—that have automatic transmission. It’d be a million times easier.”
Adrian shrugged. “I like the color. It matches my living room.”
Eddie snorted.
“But you can’t drive it,” I pointed out.
“I figure it can’t be that hard.” Adrian sounded remarkably unconcerned about what I found blasphemous. “I’ll just practice taking it around the block a few times and figure it out.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What? Are you out of your mind? You�
�ll ruin it if you don’t know what you’re doing!”
“What else am I supposed to do?” he asked. “Are you going to teach me?”
I turned back to the beautiful Mustang. “Yes,” I said adamantly. “If that’s what it takes to save it from you.”
“I can show you too,” said Eddie.
Adrian ignored him and focused on me. “When we can start?”
I ran through my school schedule, knowing I’d have to make talking to the Alchemists about the Warriors of Light my top priority. Then, the obvious hit me. “Oh. When we see Wolfe this week. We’ll take this out there.”
“Is that really to help me?” asked Adrian. “Or do you just want to drive the car?”
“Both,” I said, not embarrassed to admit it.
Angeline’s clock at school was ticking, so the rest of us had to leave. I’d driven three blocks away when I realized I’d left my purse on the grass. With a groan, I looped around and returned to his building. My purse was there, but the Mustang was gone.
“Where’s the car?” I asked, panicked. “No one could have stolen it that fast.”
“Oh,” said Jill from the backseat, sounding slightly nervous. “I saw through the bond. He, um, moved it.”
It was handy having the bond as a source of information, but her words made me panic more than if the car actually had been stolen. “He what?”
“Not far,” she said quickly. “Just behind the building. This street’s got weird overnight parking rules.”
I grimaced. “Well, I’m glad it won’t get towed, but he should’ve had me move it! Even if it’s not far, he could ruin the transmission.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Jill. There was a strange note to her voice.
I didn’t respond. Jill was no car expert. None of them were. “It’s like letting a toddler loose in a room full of china,” I muttered. “What was he thinking? About any of this?”
No one had an answer for that. I got us back to Amberwood in time for Angeline’s curfew and retreated to the sanity and calm of my room. As soon as I was satisfied my friends were safe and secure for the night, I e-mailed Donna Stanton—a high-up Alchemist whom I’d inexplicably developed a good relationship with—about the hunters and what we’d learned. I even took pictures of the pamphlet and e-mailed those as well. Once that was done, I sat back and tried to think if there was anything else at all I could provide her with that might help.
It was only when I’d exhausted all options (and refreshed my inbox a few times to see if she’d responded already) that I finally moved on to homework. As usual, I was pretty much caught up on every assignment—save one.
Ms. Terwilliger’s.
That stupid book was on my desk, staring back at me, daring me to open it. I still had a number of days before her spell was due, time during which I could continue to procrastinate. I was beginning to accept, however, that this assignment wasn’t going to go away. Considering how long some of the prep on these took, maybe it’d be best to bite the bullet and get it out of the way.
Resolved, I brought the book over to my bed and opened it to the table of contents, scanning some of the spells she’d gone over with me. My stomach twisted at most of them, every instinct telling me how wrong it was to even be attempting these. Magic is for vampires, not humans.
I still believed that to be true, but the analytical part of my mind couldn’t help but apply some of the defensive spells to various situations. Much like my decision to give blood, recent events had made me look at the world differently. Was magic wrong? Yes. But that blindness spell would have certainly been useful in the alley. Another spell, one that temporarily immobilized people, could’ve been used if I’d wanted to flee from the hunters at the café. Sure, it only lasted thirty seconds, but that was more than enough time for me to have escaped.
On and on, I went down the list. They were all so wrong and yet… so useful. If I hadn’t seen the fire charm I’d made ignite a Strigoi, I wouldn’t have believed any of these were possible. But by all accounts, they were.
So much power… the ability to protect myself…
Immediately, I rebuked myself for such a thought. I had no need for power. That kind of thinking was what led freaks like Liam to want to be Strigoi. Although… was it really the same? I didn’t want immortality. I didn’t want to hurt others. I just wanted to protect myself and those I cared about. Wolfe had a lot to teach me, but his preventative techniques wouldn’t help if determined vampire hunters cornered Sonya and me again. As time went on, it was becoming clear that the hunters were very determined.
I returned to the table of contents, finding several that would be useful and well within my capabilities to make. According to Ms. Terwilliger, someone like me had excellent potential for magic because of inborn talent (which I didn’t entirely believe) and the rigorous Alchemist training in measurement and attention to detail. It wasn’t difficult to figure out how long it would take me to produce any of these likely candidates.
The question was which spell did I make? Which did I have time to make?
The answer was eerily simple.
I had time to make all of them.
CHAPTER 17
ADRIAN’S CAR DROVE LIKE A DREAM.
When I got behind the wheel, I nearly forgot to check for any pursuit. In fact, I nearly forgot that I was supposed to be taking us to Wolfe’s and showing Adrian how to use a stick shift. Instead, I was caught up in the way the engine hummed around us and in the scent of the leather. Leaving his neighborhood, I had to restrain myself from flooring it in the crowded streets of downtown Palm Springs. This was a car screaming to be let loose on the open road. I had admired Brayden’s Mustang, but I worshipped this one.
“I feel like I’ve just crashed someone’s date,” Adrian remarked, once we were getting on the highway. No one had tailed us out of downtown, making me feel much safer. “Like I’m intruding on you two. If you want to drop me off somewhere, I’ll understand.”
“Huh?”
I’d been paying careful attention to the way the car built up to higher speeds, both through sound and feel. The Mustang was in stunning shape. People often have the idea that classic cars are expensive. They are—if they’re in good condition. Most aren’t. When something’s sat around for years without care, it inevitably falls apart, which is why so many older cars are fixer-uppers. Not Adrian’s. This had been maintained and restored throughout the years and had probably never left the state of California—meaning it hadn’t faced harsh winters. That all added up to a high price tag, making it that much more ludicrous that Adrian had bought something he couldn’t drive.
I groaned. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what I was thinking.” Well, I kind of knew. I’d been wondering what my odds of a ticket would be if I broke the speed limit to see how fast we could go. “I should’ve been walking you through this as soon as I started the car. I promise I will when we leave Wolfe’s, all the steps. For now, I guess we can recap the basics. This is the clutch…”
Adrian didn’t seem annoyed by my neglect. If anything, he looked amused and simply listened to my explanations with a small, quiet smile on his face.
Wolfe looked just as disreputable as he had last time, complete with the eye patch and what I suspected were the same Bermuda shorts as before. I hoped he’d done laundry since then. Despite his appearance, he was ready to go when our class assembled and seemed competent in his subject matter. Although he reminded us again about the importance of avoiding conflicts and being aware of one’s surroundings, he quickly moved past those points and focused on actually practicing more physical ways of protecting oneself.
Considering how much Adrian had complained last time about the “boring” safety talk, I figured he’d be excited that we were pretty much jumping right into some action. Instead, that amused look from the car vanished, and he grew increasingly tense as Wolfe explained what he wanted us to do in our partnered practice sessions.
When the time actually came to prac
tice, Adrian looked blatantly unhappy.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. I suddenly remembered last time, when Adrian had freaked out over my “attack.” Maybe he hadn’t really expected he’d have to work here. “Come on, these are simple. You won’t get dirty.”
Even when teaching more combative actions, Wolfe was still an advocate of keeping things fast and simple. We weren’t trying to learn to beat someone up. These maneuvers were effective means of distracting an assailant so that we could escape. Most were done with the dummies, since we could hardly try to stick fingers in each other’s eyes. Adrian went through those motions diligently, if silently. It was working directly with me that he seemed to have a problem with.
Wolfe noticed it too as he made his rounds. “Come on, boy! She can’t try to escape if you don’t try to hold her. She’s not going to hurt you, and you won’t hurt her.”
The maneuver in question was actually one that would’ve been helpful the night I’d been grabbed in the alley. So, I was eager to practice it and frustrated that Adrian kept only half-heartedly helping. He was supposed to put an arm around my torso and attempt to cover my mouth. Unfortunately, his efforts were so weak and his hold so loose that I didn’t need any special techniques to escape. I could have simply walked right out of his arms.
With Wolfe there, Adrian made a slightly better showing as an assailant but immediately resorted to his former ways once we were alone. “Let’s switch,” I said at last, nearly wanting to pull my hair out. “You try to escape me. Make up for last time.”
I couldn’t believe that Adrian’s sluggish attitude had turned out to be the problem here. I’d expected the hang-up would be me not wanting to touch a vampire, but it didn’t bother me at all. I wasn’t thinking of him as a vampire. He was Adrian, and my partner in this class. I needed him to learn the move. It was all very pragmatic. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say that Adrian was afraid to touch me, which made no sense. Moroi didn’t have those hang-ups. Was something wrong with me? Why wouldn’t Adrian touch me?
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