“Sydney,” he said, eyes cold. “You truly have done outstanding work. I’m glad Zoe’s here to learn from you. She’s headstrong and untried but will eventually learn. And she’s right about one thing–don’t get distracted. Even if it’s just this teacher of yours. There may be a time you can be allowed some recreation. It’d certainly be nice for you to continue talking to that young and upstanding Ian Jansen. But now, even a seemingly innocent social interaction–with a human–is dangerous. You must stay focused on your task. And I know I don’t have to tell you about friendships with the Moroi and dhampirs.”

“Of course not, sir.” I wanted to gag.

He gave me what passed for a smile with him and then turned without another word. I drove Zoe back to Amberwood, and awkwardness left over from our earlier spat lingered. As much I’d disliked her selling me out to our dad, I still loved her . . . and couldn’t entirely blame her. He was an intimidating person, one who excelled at making you feel inadequate. I’d had plenty of experience with it.

“Hey,” I said, noticing we were passing the ice cream place she and I had gone to last week. “You up for some praline pecan?”

Zoe stared straight ahead without even looking at it. “There’s a lot of fat and sugar in that, Sydney.” Silence fell for a few moments. “Maybe I should stop having driving lessons with Eddie.”

“Is he a bad teacher? Has he done anything, um, sinister?”

“No . . .” The conflict in her voice was nearly palpable. “But he’s still one of them. You heard what Dad said . . . what Keith said. No collaboration.”

“It’s not collaboration. It’s business,” I said pragmatically. “What if there’s an emergency, and you have to drive? We need you prepared. It’s for the greater good.”

Her face relaxed. “I suppose you’re right.”

She was quiet again after that, giving my thoughts ample opportunity to spiral around as I contemplated possible consequences of today’s meal. Maybe my sterling record still kept me untouchable, but Zoe had tattled on some of my other activities. Were my dad’s suspicions raised? It was hard to say, but I would’ve preferred he had no reason to think twice about me.

And of course, I was still troubled by Keith. His face haunted me. What had they done to him? What had he endured in re‑education? And how big a role had re‑inking played? Those questions tumbled in my mind over and over, and when we reached the school, I made a decision. It was a difficult one, and one that wouldn’t necessarily solve all my problems. But I had to act. Seeing Keith had driven home the desperation of my situation.

I had to make the ink. And I had to inject myself with it.

There was no other way. I had to start making preparations to find out if the ink would protect against Alchemist mental manipulation. One of Marcus’s recruits would’ve been a better guinea pig, but there was no time to get one. Inez had said my magic use might muddle the results, but what else could I do? I had no clean test subject, and doing nothing was unacceptable. If there was a way to prevent others–and myself–from turning into Keith, I had to find it. This was my starting point, and I refused to waste another moment.

After the dorm’s dinner, when Zoe went off to a study group, I prepared to go to Ms. Terwilliger’s house after first calling her with a very surprising request. Maybe it was dangerous running out on Zoe after the earlier lecture, but I would claim it was a mandatory assignment if she questioned me later. As I was walking toward the student parking lot, I ran into Trey. He looked like he was on his way to work.

“Yo, Melbourne,” he said, coming to a stop beside me. “I have to ask you something. Angeline’s been hanging out with that dhampir. I just saw them walking off together. Is something going on with them?”

“Which dhampir?” I asked.

“The one with the fake British accent.”

“I don’t think it’s fake.”

“Well, whatever.” Even I could read the jealousy in Trey’s features. “What’s up with them?”

“Pretty sure there’s nothing.”

“Then why are they always together?”

Because she’s trying to get over you,  I thought. “I think they’re practicing or something. You know. Dhampir stuff.” He didn’t look convinced. “Maybe instead of stalking her, you should go out with someone else.”

He sighed. “You don’t think I’ve tried? How can anyone compare? You might not believe this, but there is no one  like her at this school.”

“Oh, I believe it,” I said, thinking back to the time Angeline had forgotten her locker’s combination and tried to get into it with an axe. No one was really sure where she’d gotten it from.

“Is she going to the dance with anyone?”

“What dance?”

He pointed to a sign hanging in the dorm’s window that read VALENTINE’S DANCE. “Honestly, how do you miss this stuff?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t think she’ll go with Neil, do you?”

I thought about Neil’s indifference and focus on duty. “No. I’m pretty sure that won’t happen.”

He put his hands in his pockets and stared off morosely. I waited for some further comment, but when none came, I felt my eyes widen in surprise. “Is it really that big a deal? Her going to do the dance with someone?”

“She’s the big deal,” he said, turning back to face me. “I think . . . I think I may have made a mistake with her. I thought I wanted the Warriors to accept me. But do I? What I really want is to wipe out evil vampires and right wrongs. That kind of thing. I don’t need them to do that. I can think for myself and find a way to do that, maybe a way that involves Angeline.”

I found myself unexpectedly riveted, mostly because what he was suggesting echoed some of my own desires so closely. “So, what then? You’re going to get back together?”

“I don’t know. I need time to think about how I can make this all work. And I need her not to go out with Neil or any other guy in the meantime.” He shot me a wry look. “I know, I know. That sounds incredibly sexist, wanting her to put her life on hold so I  can figure out what I want. But this isn’t exactly a typical situation we’re in.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” I muttered. More silence fell between us, and two revelations hit me. One was that as crazy as Trey and Angeline seemed together, I wanted them to work. The second was that I suddenly had an opportunity before me. “I’ll help you. I’ll help Angeline stay single.”

“What?” He scrutinized me closely. “You can do that?”

“Sure,” I said. It was an easy thing to promise, seeing as she was still hung up on him and her alleged rebound was completely disinterested, but Trey didn’t know that. A smile broke out over his face–then faltered.

“What do you want in return?” he asked cautiously.

“What makes you think I want anything?”

“You’re an Alchemist.” Again, he couldn’t quite manage the smile. “Alchemists don’t give things away.”

“Friends do,” I said, wondering if I should feel hurt at the insinuation or ashamed that he was right in this case. “I’ll help you with Angeline. But I need a favor–a big one and one that you, as a friend, are going to have to trust me on.”

He considered for several moments. “Go on.”

Excitement fluttered in my chest, and I attempted to sound calm and trustworthy. “How would you like another tattoo? One that no one can see?”

He stared in astonishment. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m serious. There’s something I’m trying to do, kind of a side project, that could help a lot of people. Human people. If you could do this, it would be huge.”

More than huge. Trey would be the perfect test subject.

“When you and tattoos are involved, they aren’t just decorative,” he reminded me. It was true. When I’d first come to Amberwood, I’d discovered that Keith was running an illicit ring of magical, performance‑enhancing tattoos. It was what had landed him in trouble with the Alchemists. Trey had seen the dire side effects of Keith’s handiwork.