“She does have great legs,” I admitted. “I’d hate to see them marred.”

“Exactly. And you’d think that a teeny, tiny bit of spirit wouldn’t hurt anything. And then you’d think that the next time. And the next time–”

I held my hands up. “Okay, okay. I get it. Thank God Sydney’s too careful for this shaving fiasco to even be a possibility.” We both laughed at that, and then the severity of the situation settled back on me. “You win. I’ll try . . . but I just can’t shake the feeling I’m being selfish if I do this. I’ve been selfish my whole life. It’d be nice if I’d overcome that.”

Jill met me squarely in the eye. “Every time you use spirit . . . is it just to do good?”

I took a long time to answer. “You’re asking me something you already know the answer to,” I said. I used spirit for the rush because I felt blissful and godly. At times, I got the same high I would from drinking or smoking.

“Then there you go,” she said. “See what happens. If it doesn’t work, you stop. It’s a pill, not a lifelong commitment.”

“Why does that sound familiar?”

She grinned mischievously. “It’s what you told Sydney about birth control pills.”

Hard to believe I’d nearly forgotten about that. “Ah, yes. A conversation you’re best left out of. We need to preserve your innocence for as long as possible.”

Jill’s wry expression was another of those that looked too wise for her age. “That ended the moment we were bonded.”

Just then, Sydney and Zoe stepped out of the dorm’s front door. They didn’t see us, sitting on our far bench, and Jill called out to them. Zoe stiffened. Sydney smiled, though it was a polite Alchemist smile.

I leaned back and crossed my legs, hoping I looked as insolent as possible. “Well, well. The Sisters Sage. Where are you guys off to? Volunteer work at the library? Liquidation sale at the Container Store?”

Incredibly, Sydney managed to keep a straight face. Aside from reinforcing my love for her, it also made me want to take her to a poker game sometime. Between that and my aura reading, we’d make a killing. “Close. Zoe needs some graphing paper for her math class.”

“Ah,” I said. “Office supplies. That was going to be my next guess. I only held off because I figured you guys kept reams of that stuff under your beds.”

And still, Sydney managed that amazing control, though her lips did  twitch ever so slightly. She glanced at Jill. “Need anything?”

Jill shook her head, but I piped in, “I could use a new sketchbook and some pigment sticks and–”

Sydney sighed and put on a tormented expression. “Adrian, I wasn’t talking to you. Come on, Zoe. We’ll see you guys later.” They started to walk away, and then Sydney abruptly halted. “Oh! I have to talk to Jill about something real quick. Here.” She tossed Zoe her keys. “You can bring it out of the parking garage.”

Zoe’s eyes widened like Sydney had just said Christmas was coming early. It was actually kind of sweet, and I had to remember that Zoe was a perpetual scourge upon my love life. “Really? Oh! Thank you!” She snatched the keys without a second thought and trotted away.

Sydney watched her fondly. “Really?” she asked me. “A Container Store liquidation?”

“Come on,” I said. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be all over that.”

She grinned and turned back to us. The sunlight made her hair turn to molten gold, and it took my breath away. “Maybe,” she agreed. “Depends on how tasteful the colors were.”

“I’m guessing you don’t actually have to talk to me?” Jill asked, with a sly smile.

Sydney shrugged and tucked some of that marvelous hair behind her ear. “Not specifically. Mostly I just wanted some breathing space. It’s nice to talk to both of you.” But her eyes fell on me, and I could’ve cut the tension between us. I knew that she, like me, was having a mental struggle in staying apart. I would’ve given anything to hold her just then, to trace the edge of her cheek or feel the strands of her hair between my fingers. Clearing her throat, she looked away and seemed to be groping for a safe subject. Well, a semi‑safe one. Her voice dropped as her eyes turned back up with a gleam.

“I did it.” She cast a quick glance around before continuing. “The salt. I got all four elements into it.”

Jill caught her breath, just as consumed by the quest as Sydney and me. “You think you can use it to replicate Marcus’s ink?”

Sydney nodded eagerly. “The hard work’s done. It just needs to be ground up and suspended in any ink solution to use for tattooing. Then, I need a guinea pig. I guess the brave thing would be to try it on myself.”

“I have absolute faith in your abilities,” I told her, “but maybe you should wait and experiment with one of Marcus’s starry‑eyed recruits.”

“I suppose I could. I mean, I don’t think it’ll cause any harm. The biggest problem will be whether it works or not. And the only way we can find out is if the Alchemists try to re‑ink the guinea pig–which none of us want.” Her small, thoughtful frown was adorable. “Unless I could get a hold of Alchemist ink and do more experiments . . . but, ugh. That won’t be easy without sanctioning. And I don’t have an earth user around either.”

I scoffed. “I’m sure Abe would love to help.”

“Oh, yes,” said Sydney. “I’m sure he would. I’m sure he’d love to know all  about my side project.”

Zoe pulled up just then in that beast of a car. She didn’t drive over the curb or crash into the building, so I supposed that was promising. Nonetheless, I saw Sydney’s sharp eyes studying the exterior for even the tiniest ding. Satisfied, she took the driver’s seat from Zoe and waved goodbye to us. Her eyes held mine, and for a few moments, I was suspended in that amber gaze. I sighed as she drove off, and when I glanced down, I saw Jill watching me knowingly.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll make an appointment.” She hugged me.

I called a psychiatrist recommended by Carlton’s health center and kind of hoped it would take a while to get in. After all, specialists were always busy, right? This one apparently was–but had just had a cancellation for tomorrow. The receptionist told me I was incredibly lucky, so what I could do? I accepted and then skipped mixed media the next day, earning “slacker” name‑calling when I asked Rowena to let me know what I missed.

The doctor’s name was Ronald Mikoski, but I promptly forgot that because he looked exactly like Albert Einstein, complete with disheveled white hair and mustache. I’d thought there’d be a couch where I’d lie back and talk about my mother, but instead, he directed me to a plush armchair while he settled behind a desk. Instead of a notebook, he had a laptop.

“Well, Adrian,” Einstein began. “Tell me what brings you in here today.”

I started to say, “My girlfriend made me,” but that sounded petulant.

“My girlfriend thought it’d be a good idea,” I amended. “I want to get some antidepressants.”

The bushy eyebrows rose. “Do you? Well, we don’t just hand out prescriptions around here, but let’s get to the bottom of things first. Are you depressed?”

“Not at the moment.”

“But you get that way sometimes?”

“Sure. I mean, well, everyone does, right?”

He met my gaze levelly. “Yes, of course, but is yours worse than the average person’s?”

“Who can say?” I shrugged. “It’s all subjective, right?”

“Does your girlfriend think it’s worse than the average person’s?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why?”

That made me falter. I didn’t know if I was ready to talk about that. I hadn’t expected to. I knew enough about mental health from Lissa to understand that psychiatrists prescribed medicine and therapists talked you through your problems. I’d thought I could just come in here, say I needed pills, and get them.

“Because . . . I drink when I get down.”

Einstein’s fingers tapped away. “A lot?”

I was ready with another “subjective” quip but chose to answer bluntly. “Yes.”