Bloodlines

‘needing’ one or not?”

“You really haven’t found out yet?” asked Julia.

“It’s my second day,” I pointed out with frustration. Remembering I was in a library, I spoke more softly. “The only people who have really talked about them are Trey and you guys—and you haven’t said much of anything.”

They had the grace to look embarrassed by that, at least. Kristin opened her mouth, paused, and then seemed to change what she was going to say. “You’re sure yours doesn’t do anything?”

“Positive,” I lied. “How is that even possible?”

Julia cast a glance around the library and twisted in her chair. She rolled her shirt up a little, exposing her lower back—and a faded tattoo of a swallow in flight. Satisfied that I’d seen it, she turned back around. “I got this last spring break—and it was the best spring break ever.”

“Because of the tattoo?” I asked skeptically.

“When I got it, it didn’t look like this. It was metallic . . . not like yours. Or Slade’s. More like . . .”

“Copper,” provided Kristin.

Julia thought about it and nodded. “Yeah, like reddish-goldish. The color only lasted a week, and while it did, it was amazing. Like, I have never felt that good. It was inhumanly good. The best high ever.”

“I swear, there’s some kind of drug in those celestials,” said Kristin. She was trying to sound disapproving, but I thought I detected a note of envy.

“If you had one, you’d understand,” Julia told her.

“Celestials . . . I heard that girl over there talk about them,” I said.

“Laurel?” asked Julia. “Yeah, that’s what they call the copper ones. Because they make you feel out of this world.” She looked almost embarrassed about her enthusiasm. “Stupid name, huh?”

“Is that what Slade’s does?” I asked, stunned at what was unfolding before me.

“No, he’s got a steel one,” said Kristin. “Those give you a big athletic boost. Like, you’re stronger, faster. Stuff like that. They last longer than the celestials—more like two weeks. Sometimes three, but the effect fades. They call them steel because they’re tough, I guess. And maybe because there’s steel in them.”

Not steel, I thought. A silver compound. The art of using metal to bind certain properties in skin was one the Alchemists had perfected a long time ago. Gold was the absolute best, which was why we used it. Other metals—when formulated in the proper ways—achieved similar effects, but neither silver nor copper would bind the way gold could. The copper tattoo was easy to understand. Any number of feel-good substances or drugs could be combined with that for a short-term effect. The silver one was more difficult for me to understand—or rather, the effects of the silver one. What they were describing sounded like some kind of athletic steroid. Would silver hold that? I’d have to check.

“How many people have these?” I asked them, awestruck. I couldn’t believe that such complicated tattoos were so popular here. It was also beginning to sink in just how wealthy the student body here really was. The materials alone would cost a fortune, let alone any of the alleged side effects.

“Everyone,” said Julia.

Kristin scowled. “Not everyone. I’ve almost got enough saved up, though.”

“I’d say half the school’s at least tried a celestial,” said Julia, flashing her friend a comforting look. “You can get them touched up again later—but it still costs money.”

“Half the school?” I repeated incredulously. I looked around, wondering how many shirts and pants concealed tattoos. “This is crazy. I can’t believe a tattoo can do any of that.” I hoped I was doing an okay job of hiding how much I really knew.

“Get a celestial,” said Julia with a grin. “Then you’ll believe.”

“Where do you get them?”

“It’s a place called Nevermore,” said Kristin. “They’re selective, though, and don’t give them out easily.” Not that selective, I thought, if half the school had them. “They got a lot more cautious after Trey tried to turn them in.” There was Trey’s name again. It now made sense that he’d been so disdainful of my tattoo when we met. But I wondered why he cared so much—enough to try to get them shut down. That wasn’t just a casual disagreement.

“I guess he thinks it’s unfair?” I offered diplomatically.

“I think he’s just jealous that he can’t afford one,” said Julia. “He’s got a tattoo, you know. It’s a sun on his back. But it’s just a regular black one—not gold like yours. I’ve never seen anything like yours.”

“So that’s why you thought mine made me smart,” I said.

“That could’ve been really useful during finals,” said Julia wistfully. “You’re sure that’s not why you know so much?”

I smiled, despite how appalled I was by what I’d just learned. “I wish. It might make getting through this book easier. Which,” I added, glancing at the clock. “I should get to.” It was on Greco-Roman priests and magicians, a kind of grimoire detailing the kinds of spells and rituals they’d worked with. It wasn’t terrible reading material, but it was long. I’d thought Ms. Terwilliger’s research was more focused on mainstream religions in that era, so the book seemed like a weird choice. Maybe she was hoping to include a section on alternative magical practices. Regardless, who was I to question? If she asked, I’d do it.

I outlasted both Kristin and Julia in the library, since I had to stay as long as Ms. Terwilliger stayed, which was until the library closed. She seemed pleased that I’d gotten so far with the notes and told me she’d like the whole book completed in three days.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said automatically, as if I didn’t have any other classes at this school. Why did I always agree without thinking?

I returned to East Campus, bleary-eyed from all the work I’d done and exhausted over the thought of the homework remaining. Jill was fast asleep, which I took as a small blessing. I wouldn’t have to face her accusing stare or figure out how to handle the awkward silence. I got ready for bed quickly and quietly and fell asleep almost as soon as I hit the pillow.

I woke at around three to the sound of crying. Shaking off my sleepy haze, I was able to make out Jill sitting up in her bed, her face buried in her hands. Great, shaking sobs racked her body.

“Jill?” I asked uncertainly. “What’s wrong?”

In the faint light coming in from outside, I saw Jill raise her head and look at me. Unable to answer, she shook her head and began crying once more, this time more loudly. I got up and came to sit on the edge of her bed. I couldn’t quite bring myself to hug or touch her for comfort. Nonetheless, I felt terrible. I knew this had to be my fault.

“Jill, I’m so sorry. I never should have gone to see Adrian. When Lee mentioned you, I should’ve just stopped it there and told him to talk to you if he was interested. I should’ve just talked to you in the first place . . .” The words came out in a jumble. When I looked at her, all I could think of was Zoe and her horrible accusations on the night I’d left.

Somehow, my help always backfired.

Jill sniffled and managed to get out a few words before breaking down again. “It’s not . . . it’s not that . . .”

I stared helplessly at her tears, frustrated at myself. Kristin and Julia thought I was superhumanly smart. Yet I guaranteed one of them would’ve been able to comfort Jill a hundred times better than I could. I reached out my hand and nearly patted her arm—but pulled back at the last moment. No, I couldn’t do that. That Alchemist voice in me, the voice that always warned me to keep my distance from vampires, wouldn’t let me touch one in a way that was so personal.

“Then what is it?” I asked at last.

She shook her head. “It’s not . . . I can’t tell . . . you wouldn’t understand.”

With Jill, I thought, any number of things could be wrong. The uncertainty of her royal status. The threats against her. Being sent away from all her family and friends, trapped among humans in the perpetual sun. I really didn’t know where to start. Last night, there had been a chilling, desperate terror in her eyes when she woke up. But this was different. This was sorrow. This was from the heart.

“What can I do to help?” I asked at last.