had my father called saying I was being pulled because of Keith’s reports?
I knew who the rogue Alchemist was.
And I knew that I had been “the problem.” Keith had taken care of me, making moves to get me out of Palm Springs and bring in someone new and inexperienced who wouldn’t interfere with his illicit tattoo operation. It was why he’d wanted Zoe in the first place.
I was aghast. I didn’t have a great opinion of Keith Darnell, not by any means. But never,
My hand was on my cell phone, ready to call Stanton. That’s all it would take. One call with the kind of news I had, and Alchemists would swoop in on Palm Springs—and on Keith. But what if there was no hard evidence to connect Keith? It was possible another Alchemist might go in and play the same game I had, getting the tattooist to think that they were part of Keith’s team. Keith was the one I wanted to bust, however. I wanted to ensure that there was no way he could slip out of this.
I made my decision, and rather than the Alchemists, I called Adrian.
When I arrived back at Lia’s shop, I found the training session winding down. Lia was giving Jill some last- minute instructions while Eddie and Lee lingered nearby. Eddie took one look at my face and instantly knew something was wrong.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I said blandly. “Just a problem I’m going to fix soon. Lee, would you mind taking Jill and Eddie back to the school? I have a couple errands I need to run.”
Eddie frowned. “Are you okay? Do you need someone to protect you?”
“I’ll have someone.” I reconsidered, seeing as I was about to meet up with Adrian. “Well, kind of. Anyway, I’m not in trouble. Your job’s to keep an eye on Jill, remember? Thanks, Lee,” I added, seeing him nod. A thought suddenly struck me. “Wait . . . I thought this was one of the days you had a night class. Are we keeping you . . . or . . . well, what days
I hadn’t thought much about it, only noticing that some days Lee was around and other days he was in Los Angeles. But in looking back, there was no real pattern. I saw realization light Eddie’s face as well.
“That’s true,” he said, eyeing Lee suspiciously. “What kind of schedule are you on?”
Lee opened his mouth, and I sensed a ready story coming. Then he stopped and cast an anxious look at Jill, who was still talking to Lia. His face fell. “Please don’t tell her,” he whispered.
“Tell her what?” I asked, keeping my voice low as well.
“I’m not in college. I mean—I was. But not this semester. I wanted some time off but . . . didn’t want to disappoint my dad. So, I told him I was just going part-time, which is why I was around more.”
“What do you do in LA during all that time, then?” asked Eddie. That was an excellent question, I realized.
“I still have friends there, and I need to keep my cover.” Lee sighed. “It’s stupid, I know. Please—let me be the one to tell her. I wanted so badly to impress her and to prove myself to her. She’s wonderful. She just caught me at a bad time.”
Eddie and I exchanged glances. “I won’t tell,” I said. “But you really should let her know. I mean, I guess there’s no harm done . . . but you shouldn’t have that kind of lie between you.”
Lee looked miserable. “I know. Thank you.”
When he stepped aside, Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t like him lying. Not at all.”
“Lee trying to save face is the least weird thing going on here,” I said.
I found out then that Jill could walk from one side of the store to the other and back without falling over. It wasn’t pretty, but it was a start. She was still a long ways from looking anything like the runway models I saw on TV, but considering she hadn’t been able to stand in the shoes at first, I supposed she’d made considerable progress. She started to take off the heels, but Lia stopped her.
“No. I told you. You have to wear these shoes all the time. Practice, practice, practice. Wear them home. Wear them everywhere.” She turned to me. “And you—”
“I know. Make sure she doesn’t break her neck,” I said. “She’s not going to be able to wear those all the time, though. Our school has a dress code.”
“What if they were in a different color?” asked Lia.
“I don’t think it’s just the color,” Jill said apologetically. “I think it’s the stiletto part. But I promise to wear them outside of class and practice in our room.”
That was good enough for Lia, and after a few more words of advice, she sent us on our way. We promised to practice and come back in two days. I told Jill I’d meet up with her later, but I don’t know if she heard. She was so caught up in the idea of Lee driving her home that pretty much everything else went past her.
I drove over to Clarence’s and was met at the door by Adrian. “Wow,” I said, impressed at his initiative. “I didn’t expect you to be ready so quickly.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I need you to see something right now.”
I frowned. “Okay.” Adrian led me deeper into the house, beyond where I normally went, which made me nervous. “Are you sure this can’t wait? This thing we’ve got to do is kind of urgent . . .”
“So is this. How did Clarence seem the last time you saw him?”
“Weird.”
“But health-wise?”
I thought about it. “Well, I know he’s been tired. But usually he seemed okay.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not ‘okay’ now. It’s gone beyond just tired. He’s weak, dizzy, and confined to his bed.” We reached a closed wooden door, and Adrian stopped.
“Do you know what caused it?” I asked, alarmed. I’d been worried about the complications of a sick Moroi but hadn’t expected to deal with it so soon.
“I have a pretty good idea,” said Adrian, with surprising fierceness. “Your boy Keith.”
“Stop saying stuff like that. He’s not ‘my boy,’” I exclaimed. “He’s ruining my life!”
Adrian opened the door, revealing a large, ornate canopied bed. Walking into a Moroi bedroom wasn’t something I was comfortable with, but Adrian’s commanding look was too powerful. I followed him in and gasped when I saw Clarence lying on the bed.
“Not just yours,” said Adrian, pointing at the old man.
Clarence’s eyes fluttered at the sound of our voices and then closed again as he shifted into sleep. It wasn’t his eyes that held my attention, though. It was the pale, sickly pallor of his skin—that, and the bloody wound on Clarence’s neck. It was small, made with just one prick, like it had come from a surgical instrument. Adrian looked at me expectantly.
“Well, Sage? Do you have any idea why Keith would be draining Clarence’s blood?”
I swallowed, scarcely able to believe what I was seeing. Here was the last piece. I knew that Keith had been supplying the tattooists, and now I knew where Keith was getting his “supplies.”
“Yes,” I said at last, my voice small. “I have a very good idea.”
CHAPTER 22
CLARENCE DIDN’T WANT to talk to us about what had happened. In fact, he adamantly denied anything was wrong, claiming he’d scratched his neck while shaving.
“Mr. Donahue,” I said as gently as I could, “this was made by a surgical tool. And it didn’t happen until Keith visited.”
“No, no,” Clarence managed in a weak voice. “It has nothing to do with him.”
Dorothy stuck her head in just then, carrying a glass of juice. We’d called for her shortly after my arrival tonight. For blood loss, the remedies were the same for Moroi and human alike: sugar and fluids. She offered the
