The Golden Lily

full-page advertisement for Lia DiStefano, a collage of pictures of her various designs.

And one of the photos was of Jill.

It took me a moment to catch it. The picture was a profile shot, with Jill in sunglasses and a fedora-as well as that peacock-colored scarf Lia had given her. Jill’s curly hair streamed out behind her, and the angles of her face looked beautiful. If I hadn’t known Jill so well, I would never have identified her as this chic model-though it would certainly be obvious that she was a Moroi to anyone who knew what to look for.

“How?” I demanded. “How did this happen?”

Jill took a deep breath, ready to accept her blame. “When she dropped off the costumes and gave me the scarf, she asked if I’d let her take a picture to see how the colors photographed. She had some of the other accessories in the car, and I put those on too. She wanted to prove to me that with the right coverage, she could hide my identity. But I never thought… I mean, she didn’t say she’d use it. God, I feel so stupid.”

Maybe not stupid, but certainly naive. I nearly crumpled up the magazine. I was furious at Lia. Part of me wanted to sue for using a picture of a minor without permission, but we had much bigger problems. How wide was this magazine’s circulation? If Lia had only put Jill’s photo on display in California, maybe no one would recognize her. Still, a Moroi model could raise eyebrows. Who knows what kind of trouble this was going to cause for us now?

“Sydney, I’m sorry,” said Jill. “What can I do to fix this?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Except to stay away from Lia.” I felt ill. “I’ll take care of this.” I really didn’t know how, though. I could only pray no one noticed the picture.

“I’ll do whatever you need if you think of something. I-oh.” Her eyes lifted to something behind me. “Maybe we should talk later.”

I glanced back. Trey was walking toward us. Another problem to deal with.

“Probably a good idea,” I said. Jill’s heartache and publicity would have to go on the back burner. She left as Trey came to stand beside me.

“Melbourne,” he said, attempting one of his old smiles. It faltered a little.

“I didn’t know you were still around,” I said. “I thought you’d left with the others.” The Warriors had scattered to the wind. Trey had said before that they traveled for their “hunts,” and Master Angeletti had also mentioned gathering from various places of the country. Presumably, they had all returned to where they’d come from. I’d thought Trey would simply disappear as well.

“Nope,” he said. “This is where I go to school, where my dad wants me to stay. Besides, the other Warriors never had a permanent base here in Palm Springs. They’ll move on to wherever…”

He couldn’t finish, so I did. “Wherever you get a tip-off about monsters you can brutally execute?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said. “We thought she was one of the Strigoi. We still do.”

I scrutinized his face, this guy I’d thought was my friend. I was pretty sure he still was. “Not you. That’s why you threw the fight.”

“I didn’t,” he protested.

“You did. I saw you hesitate when you could have taken out Chris. You didn’t want to win. You didn’t want to kill Sonya because you weren’t sure she really was Strigoi.”

He didn’t deny it. “I still think they should all be destroyed.”

“So do I.” I reconsidered. “Well, unless there’s a way to save them all, but that’s unclear.” Despite how much I’d said while advocating for Sonya, I wasn’t quite comfortable letting him on the secrets and experiments. “If the Warriors travel around, what’ll happen the next time they’re in this area? Or even L.A.? Will you join them again? Will you travel to the next hunt?”

“No.” The answer was hard. Blunt, even.

Hope surged in me. “You’ve decided to split off from them?”

The emotions on Trey’s face were hard to read, but they didn’t look like happy ones. “No. They decided to cut us off-me and my dad. We’ve been outcast.”

I stared for a few moments, at a loss for words. I didn’t like the Warriors or Trey’s involvement, but this wasn’t quite what I’d been trying to achieve. “Because of me?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Indirectly, I guess. They don’t blame you personally or even the Alchemists. Hell, they still want to team up with the Alchemists. They figure you just behaved in your typically misguided way. But me? I’m the one who pushed to let you in, who swore everything would be fine. So, they blame me for the lapse of judgment and fallout that came from it. Others are taking the blame too-the council for agreeing, security for not stopping the raid-but that doesn’t make me feel better. Dad and I were the only ones exiled.”

“I… I’m sorry. I never thought anything like that would happen.”

“Wasn’t your place to,” he said pragmatically, though his tone was still miserable. “To a certain extent, they’re right. I was the one that got you in. It is my fault, and they’re punishing my dad for what I did. That’s the worst part of all.” Trey was trying to play it cool, but I could see the truth. He’d worked so hard to impress his father and ended up causing the ultimate humiliation. Trey’s next words confirmed as much. “The Warriors have been my dad’s whole life. To be kicked out like that… well, he’s taking it pretty badly. I have to find a way to get back in-for him. I don’t suppose you know where any easy-to-kill Strigoi are, do you?”

“No,” I said. “Especially since none of them are easy kills.” I hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “Trey, what’s this mean for us? I understand if we can’t be friends anymore… seeing as how I, uh, ruined your life’s work.”

A hint of his old smile returned. “Nothing’s ruined for good. I told you, I’ll get back in. And if it’s not by killing Strigoi, who knows? Maybe if I learn more about you guys, I can bridge the gap between our groups and get us to all work together. That would score me some points.”

“You’re welcome to try,” I said diplomatically. I really didn’t think that would happen, and he could tell.

“Well, I’ll figure something out then, some big move to get the Warriors’ attention and get my dad and me back in with them. I have to.” His face started to fall again, but then there was a brief return of the phantom smile-though it was tinged with sadness. “You know what else sucks? Now I can’t ask Angeline out. Hanging out with you is one thing, but even if I’m an outcast, I can’t risk being friendly with Moroi or dhampirs. I especially can’t date one. I mean, I’d figured she was one a while ago, but I could have played dumb. That attack in the arena kind of killed any chance of that. The Warriors really don’t like them either, you know. Dhampirs or Moroi. They’d love to see them brought down too-they just think it’s too hard and less of a priority right now.”

Something about those words made me shiver, particularly since I recalled the offhand Warrior comment about eventually taking out Moroi. The Alchemists certainly had no love for dhampirs and Moroi, but that was a far cry from wanting to bring them down.

“I gotta get going.” Trey reached into his pocket and handed over something that I was grateful to see. My phone. “Figured you were missing this.”

“Yes!” I took it eagerly and turned it on. I hadn’t known if I’d get it back and had been on the verge of buying a new one. This one was three months old and practically out-of-date anyway. “Thanks for saving it. Oh. Wow.” I read the display. “There are like a million messages from Brayden.” We hadn’t spoken since the night of Sonya’s disappearance.

The mischievous look I liked so well on Trey returned. “Better get on that then. True love waits for no one.”

“True love, huh?” I shook my head in exasperation. “So nice to have you back.”

That earned me an outright grin. “See you around.”

As soon as I was alone, I texted Brayden: Sorry for the radio silence. Lost my phone for three days. His response was almost immediate: I’m at work, due for a break soon. Come by? I thought about it. Seeing as I had no life-saving tasks right now, this was as good a time as any. I texted back that I’d leave Amberwood right away.

Brayden had my favorite latte ready for me when I got to Spencer’s. “Based on when you were leaving, I calculated when I would need to make it in order for it to be hot when you arrived.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking it. I felt a little guilt that I had a greater emotional reaction to seeing the coffee than him.

He told the other barista he was going on break and then led me over to a remote table. “This won’t take long,” Brayden said. “I know you probably have a lot of things to do this weekend.”

“Things are actually starting to lighten up,” I said.