like she hadn’t washed it in weeks. That normally gleaming, bouncy hair now hung in lank, ugly coils. The color was also off a little. The bright, flaming red now had a sickly yellow hue.
“It smells weird too,” she exclaimed.
“Wash it again,” suggested another friend.
Laurel did that, but it wasn’t going to help. Even when she figured out that her shampoo was causing the problem, the stuff I’d made wasn’t going to come out of her hair easily. Water would continue fueling the reaction, and it was going to take many, many scrubbings before she fixed the problem.
Jill gave me astonished look. “Sydney?” she whispered, a million questions in my name.
“Patience,” I assured her. “This is just the first act.”
That evening, I drove Jill down to Lia DiStefano’s boutique. Eddie went with us, of course. Lia was only a few years older than me and nearly a foot shorter. Despite her tiny size, there was something big and forceful about her personality as she confronted us. The shop was filled with elegant gowns and dresses, though she herself was dressed ultra-casual, in ripped jeans and an oversized peasant blouse. She flipped on the closed sign on her door and then confronted us with hands on her hips.
“So, Jillian Melrose,” she began. “We have less than two weeks to turn you into a model.” Her eyes fell on me. “And you’re going to help.”
“Me?” I exclaimed. “I’m just the ride.”
“Not if you want your sister to shine in my show.” She stared back up at Jill, the difference in their heights almost comical. “You have to eat, drink, and breathe modeling if you’re going to pull this off. And you have to do it all—in these.”
With a flourish, Lia grabbed a nearby shoe box and produced a pair of glittery purple shoes with heels that had to be at least five inches high. Jill and I stared.
“Isn’t she tall enough already?” I asked at last.
Lia snorted and thrust the shoes at Jill. “These aren’t for the show. But once you master these, you’ll be ready for anything.”
Jill took them gingerly, holding them up to study them. The heels reminded me of the silver stakes Eddie and Rose used to kill Strigoi. If Jill really wanted to be prepared for any situation, she could just keep these around. Self-conscious of our scrutiny, she finally kicked off her brown flats and fastened the many elaborate straps of the purple shoes. Once they were on, she slowly straightened up—and nearly fell over. I hastily jumped to catch her.
Lia nodded in approval. “See? This is what I was talking about. Sisterly teamwork. It’s up to you to make sure she doesn’t fall and break her neck before my show.”
Jill shot me a look of panic that I suspect was reflected on my own face. I started to suggest that Eddie be Jill’s spotter, but he had discreetly moved off to the side of the shop to watch and seemed to have escaped Lia’s notice. Apparently, his protective services had limits.
While Jill simply attempted not to topple over, I helped Lia clear space in the store’s center. Lia then spent the next hour or so demonstrating how to properly walk for fashion, with emphasis on posture and stride in order to display clothing to its best effect. Most of those fine details were lost on Jill, though, who struggled to simply walk across the room without falling. Grace and beauty weren’t concerns as much as staying upright.
Nonetheless, when I glanced over at Eddie, he was watching Jill with a rapt look on his face, as though every step she were taking was pure magic. Catching my eye, he immediately resumed his wary, protective guardian face.
I did my best to offer Jill words of encouragement—and yes, stop her from falling and breaking her neck. Halfway through the session, we heard a knock at the glass door. Lia started to scowl and then recognized the face on the other side of the door. She brightened and went to unlock it.
“Mr. Donahue,” she said, letting Lee in. “Come to see how your starlet’s doing?”
Lee smiled, his gray eyes instantly seeking out Jill. Jill met his gaze, grinning just as widely. Lee hadn’t been around at the last feeding, and although they talked constantly on the phone and IM, I knew she had been pining to see him. A glance at Eddie’s face showed me he wasn’t nearly as delighted by Lee’s presence.
“I already know how she’s doing,” said Lee. “She’s perfect.”
Lia snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Hey,” I said, inspiration striking me. “Lee, do you want to be in charge of keeping Jill from breaking her neck? I need to run an errand.” Unsurprisingly, Lee was more than willing, and I knew I didn’t need to fear for her safety with Eddie on watch.
I left them, hurrying two streets over to Nevermore. Ever since I’d heard Slade and his friends confirm the tattooists were in business again, I’d wanted to pay an in-person trip. Not a covert one, though. My stolen goods had already yielded their evidence. Except for the clear liquid, I had identified all the other substances in the vials. All the metallics were exact matches for Alchemist compounds, meaning these people either had an Alchemist connection or were stealing. Either way, my case got stronger and stronger. I just hoped it’d be enough to redeem me and keep Zoe out of here, particularly since the clock was ticking on her arrival. We were almost a week away from when my father had said she’d be replacing me.
My plan was to see how willing Nevermore was to give me a tattoo. I wanted to know what warnings (if any) they gave out and how easy it was in the first place. Adrian’s conversation hadn’t yielded much info, but probably his on-fire-biker-skelet-on-with-a-parrot tattoo request hadn’t done much to help his credibility. I was armed with cash today, which I hoped would get me somewhere.
As it was, I never needed to flash any. As soon as I walked in, the guy behind the counter—the same one Adrian had spoken to—looked relieved.
“Thank God,” he said. “Please tell me you have more. These kids are driving me crazy. When we got into this . . . I had no idea it was gonna get this big. The money’s good, but Christ. It’s crazy to keep up with.”
I kept my confusion off of my face, wondering what in the world he was talking about. He was acting as though I was in on his scheme here, which made no sense. But then his eyes flashed to my cheek, and suddenly, I understood.
My lily tattoo.
It was uncovered, since school was over. And I knew then, with absolute certainty, that whomever he was working with to get his supplies was also an Alchemist. He’d assumed my tattoo made me an ally.
“I don’t have anything with me,” I said.
His face fell. “But the demand—”
“You lost the other batch,” I said haughtily. “You let it get stolen right out from underneath you. Do you know how much trouble we go to in order to get that?”
“I already explained that to your friend!” he exclaimed. “He said he understood. He said he’d taken care of the problem and that we didn’t have to worry anymore.”
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t speak for all of us, and we’re not sure we want to continue. You were compromised.”
“We’re careful,” he argued. “That theft wasn’t our fault! Now, come on. You have to help us. Didn’t he tell you? There’s a huge demand for tomorrow because those private school kids have a game. If we can deliver, we’ll make double the money.”
I gave him my best icy smile. “We’ll discuss it among ourselves and get back to you.”
With that, I turned around and began to leave. “Wait,” he called. I spared him a haughty glance. “Can you make that person stop calling?”
“What person?” I asked, wondering if he meant some persistent Amberwood student.
“The one with the weird voice who keeps asking if any tall, pale people are showing up around here. Ones that look like vampires. I figured it was someone you knew.”
Tall, pale people? I didn’t like the sound of that but kept my face blank. “Sorry. Don’t know what you’re talking about. Must have been a prank.”
I left, making a mental note to investigate that further. If someone was inquiring about people who looked like vampires, that was a problem. It wasn’t, however, the immediate problem. My mind raced as I processed what else the tattooist had told me. There was an Alchemist supplying Nevermore. In some ways, that shouldn’t be a surprise. How else were they going to get ahold of vampire blood and all the metals necessary for their tattoos? And apparently, this rogue Alchemist had “taken care of the problem” that led to the theft of their supplies. When
