The Fiery Heart

While I still couldn’t gauge Neil’s interest in Jill, I knew beyond a doubt he regarded Eddie as a rival in life. Eddie wasn’t quite as bad, but he had a competitive streak as well. I guess there could only be one alpha dhampir at Amberwood.

“Lying isn’t exactly honorable either,” said Neil hotly.

“No, but humility is.” I sighed as dreamily for Eddie as Jill often did for Neil. “He’d rather face the humiliation of being out of the game than reap glory he doesn’t deserve.”

That might have been going too far, judging from the anger flaring in Neil’s eyes. “Neil,” Jill said quickly. “Will you go up to the counter and order me some baklava to go? Walnut. And pistachio.”

Jill was truly becoming my pupil. Pistachio wasn’t one of this place’s common types, so they didn’t usually keep it on display. Making Neil wait while they hunted some down would buy us time.

“You’re so mean,” she told me once Neil was gone. He didn’t take his eyes off us as he waited, but at least he was out of earshot.

“You can do better, Princess Jailbait.” I enunciated each word with my fork. “Besides, Big Ben over there’s married to his duty. You’ll never get him. Find some Moroi prince and give up on dhampirs altogether. They’re nothing but trouble.” Didn’t I know it. “Besides, you may have everyone else fooled, but I know you’re not into him.”

“Yeah? You have a psychic bond now?”

“Don’t need one.” I tapped my head. “I have aura vision. That, and I just know you. What are you playing at? Why are you trying to pretend you’re interested in him?”

She sighed. “Because I hope I will be interested in him.”

“Like, if you do a good enough act, you’ll convince yourself?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s nonsensical. And coming from me, that’s a serious accusation.”

She kicked me under the table. “If I can fall in love with Neil, then maybe I’ll stop . . .” Her voice faltered a moment. “Maybe I’ll stop thinking about Eddie.”

I deleted the snarky comments I’d been mentally accruing. “I don’t think it works that way. Actually, I know for a fact it doesn’t.”

“I have to do something, Adrian. I wish I’d realized how I felt about Eddie sooner . . . I was so stupid and missed my chance. Now Sydney says he’s all caught up in honor and duty and thinks no princess could lower herself to him.”

“That sounds like something he’d say,” I agreed. I’d never actually heard the tale directly from Eddie, but Sydney had had a heart-to-heart with him and gotten the scoop. He’d once had a crush on Jill that he staunchly denied. Neither of us knew if it had survived his Angeline days, but something told me if it had, his views on chivalry hadn’t changed.

“Maybe instead of trying to trick yourself into falling for another guy, you should just go confront Eddie and get it all out,” I suggested.

“Like you did with Sydney?” asked Jill archly. “That didn’t go so well.”

“Not at the time.” To describe Sydney’s reaction to my initial declaration of love as “not going well” was a kindness. “But look at me now, lounging in the lap of love.”

Jill’s earlier grin returned. “You should make Sydney dinner. For her birthday.”

It was one of those times when it was nice having someone who was already up to speed on my life. It saved me a lot of explaining what had been weighing on me. I also realized this abrupt topic change was Jill’s subtle way of saying she didn’t want to talk about her own love life anymore. “That’s not a real gift. She deserves more.”

“Diamonds and roses?” Jill shook her head. “You should know her better than that. She’s not a material person, and you don’t need to make some big expensive gesture. A homemade dinner’s romantic.”

“Also disastrous. You know better than anyone else that I can’t cook.”

“And that’s why she’ll love it even more. She’s into personal effort—and learning. Figure out how to make a simple dish, and it’ll go a long way. Imperfection is endearing.”

Jill had a point, but it was a tough one for me to swallow. Most of my courtship with girls—even the one-night stands—had involved those “big expensive gestures.” Flowers and more flowers. Seven-course meals with wine pairings. Cooking boxed spaghetti didn’t measure up.

“I’ll think about it,” I conceded.

That perked Jill up. “Maybe if the atmosphere’s romantic enough, you guys can—”

“No, Jailbait.” I held up a hand. “Don’t go there.”

“But you want to,” Jill insisted. “And she does too, or she wouldn’t have made that chart.”

“I don’t know about that. That chart’s the kind of thing she’d do in her free time for fun. Anyway. She and I don’t agree on everything, but you not being involved with our sex life is one point we’re in perfect harmony on, so there’s no point in discussing this.”

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, causing her wavy, light brown hair to fall forward and frame her face like a veil. It would’ve made a powerful pose for a painting.

“I feel terrible. It’s all my fault that your love life is ruined. If it wasn’t for the bond—”

“You’d be dead,” I said flatly. “And there’s no debate about that whatsoever. I say this with absolute seriousness: I’d rather be celibate for the rest of my life than not have you in this world.”

Jill swallowed, and I could tell she was fighting back tears.

“Careful,” I teased. “Start crying, and London Bridge’ll think I’ve been mean to you. He’ll rough me up outside.”

She sniffed but managed a smile. “No, he wouldn’t, but he’s finishing up over there. Maybe I could drink or something if you and Sydney—you know. It’d numb the bond on my end.”

“No,” I said firmly. Neil began walking toward us. “Absolutely not. One recovering alcoholic in this bond is bad enough. Don’t worry about it for now. We’ll figure it out.”

“How?” she asked.

“I have a plan.”

Jill knew me too well and gave me a knowing look. “Liar.”

Chapter 6

SYDNEY

I DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG I’D BEEN ASLEEP when the spirit dream drew me in. The Getty Villa’s columned courtyard materialized around me, and sunshine sparkled on the enormous fountain. Here in these dreams, the sun didn’t affect Adrian. I scanned around and found him leaning against a pillar, hands in his pockets as he watched me with that roguish smile of his. For a moment, I was dazzled by him and the way the sunlight lit up his cheekbones and hair. He was breathtaking. He could’ve been one of the villa’s classic works of art.

Then, I remembered he wasn’t supposed to be here.

I strolled over and caught hold of the front of his shirt, tugging him toward me. “Hey! What’s going on? I thought we agreed to no more dreams.”

“You agreed to that. I never actually took you up on that surprise bargain.”

“But I—” I stopped and replayed our earlier conversation, when I’d delivered the bombshell about the birth control pills. He actually hadn’t said he’d skip the dream if I surprised him. “You tricked me.”

“There was no trick involved. If anything, I’m the victim here, after you dropped that tantalizing pill info. How am I supposed to get anything done now?” He gave me a long kiss before going on. “Did Jailbait deliver the baklava?”

“Yes, but don’t think that’ll get you off the hook for this dream.”

He drew me into another kiss. “I already am.”

We finally managed to drag our lips away from each other, though Adrian kept his arm around my waist. The sunlight brought out the chestnut glints in his brown hair, and that fair skin that had once marked something frightening and otherworldly was now stunning in my eyes. His features hardened into resolve.

“Ready to summon Robin Hood?” he asked.

The mention of Marcus snapped me away from carnal thoughts and reminded me of the breakthrough I was teetering on the edge of—and the dangerous situation we were in. Adrian was a master at distracting me from those things.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” I warned.

“I’m already doing it,” he said cheerfully. “So let’s get it over with.”

He released me and focused off in the distance, green eyes full of concentration as he tried to reach out to Marcus in the dream world. There was a very strong probability it wouldn’t work. Marcus could be awake. Or maybe Adrian didn’t know Marcus well enough. Adrian was the best dream walker of the spirit users we knew, but some things were beyond even him.

And yet, after almost a minute of tense silence, I saw a glimmer of something across the courtyard. Slowly, it expanded into a man’s figure, and Marcus suddenly stood before us. He looked the same as ever, with his shoulder-length blond hair and the bright indigo tattoo latticed over his now-fading Alchemist lily. There was a confusion written all over him that I could understand. I’d thought I was in a normal dream the first time Adrian had summoned me, and then, gradually, I’d gotten the sense that there was something off about it.

“Nice to see you again, Marcus,” I told him.

He frowned and examined his hands, touching them together as though he expected them to have no substance. “Is this real?”

“Real enough,” said Adrian.

“You’re in a spirit dream,” I explained.

Marcus looked disbelieving for a moment, and then wonder filled his eyes. “Wow.” He glanced around. “Where are we?”

“Malibu,” I said, earning more surprise. “Where are you? Mexico?”

He dragged his gaze from the buildings around us. “Yeah, but we’re heading back soon. Amelia and Wade got their tattoos, and I got a tip about some rebels who need me in Arizona. We’re just waiting on a guy who’s going to help us get over the border. Always a lot harder getting back in.”

Marcus was on the Alchemists’ most-wanted list. Any Alchemist who slipped out of their grasp was bad enough, let alone one actively recruiting others. With their many connections, he had to be extra careful in his movements, especially at high-security places like a border. It seemed to occur to him then that this wasn’t a social call.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” He almost seemed to expect that I wasn’t okay. For all his quirkiness, he’d been legitimately worried about me staying behind.

“Surprisingly, yes. I’ve got something that might help you.” I allowed a dramatic pause that was straight out of his playbook. “I might be able to make the ink that you use to seal the tattoos.”

He went slack jawed. “That . . . that’s impossible.”

Adrian scoffed. “Is it? She broke into a high-security Alchemist stronghold and hunted you down. You think she can’t replicate what some random guy you dug up can do?”

Marcus had no counter for that and fixed his gaze back on me. “You’ve got indigo ink?”

“Not exactly. I can’t get the mineral I’m pretty sure your guy uses, but I think I know a couple others that’ll do the trick.”

“You ‘think,’” he repeated.

“The mineral’s not what matters. Well, it does a little. It’s the process of creating the ink that matters, and I know how to do that.” That wasn’t entirely true. I understood the principles but had yet to test them out. I hoped Marcus wouldn’t push me for details, because while he was on board with a lot of far-out stuff, I wasn’t sure where me being involved with magic would fall.

He mulled things over for several long moments and then gave a rueful smile. “If anyone could pull off something like that, it’d be you.”

“Think what it means,” I said, excited that I’d made progress. “If we could mass-produce the ink, you could reach more people. You also wouldn’t have to travel. You’d save a lot of time and be able to do more.”

Adrian, careful to keep his distance from me, laughed. “I don’t think Marcus minds the traveling. Beaches and margaritas, right?”

Marcus glared. “It’s not all about that. And you’re one to talk.”

Hostile tension suddenly filled the space between them. They’d actually gotten in a physical fight once, following a mis-understanding when Marcus had accidentally hit me. Adrian hadn’t taken that very well, and although he’d eventually accepted that it was a mistake, I knew the incident weighed heavily upon him.