“Mr. Sage,” said Keith. His voice was flat. “It’s so nice to hear from you.”
I gasped in spite of myself. Keith had once been arrogant and obnoxious. In re‑education, he’d been frantic and terrified. Now . . . there was nothing. He was blank. An automaton. One of his eyes was glass, but if I hadn’t known which one, I never would have been able to tell now.
“I have Sydney and Zoe here,” my dad explained. “Sydney’s been worried about you.”
“Hello, Sydney.” I think he smiled, but it was hard to tell. “I’ve been wanting to thank you. I was sick, and now I’m better. I let myself get deceived by those creatures of evil. If not for you, I’d have lost my soul.”
My tongue felt thick. “That . . . that’s great, Keith. How is everything else? Outside Alchemist work?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Um, I don’t know. Seen any good movies? Girlfriend?” I knew this was probably frivolous to my dad. “Are you happy?”
Keith barely even blinked. “My happiness doesn’t matter. Only the work does. That and continuing to do penance.”
“For . . . for what? For your moneymaking scheme with Clarence? I mean, it was bad . . . but it could’ve been worse.” I had no idea why I was trying to defend him to himself, but there was just something deeply unsettling about all this talk of souls and penance–especially when I knew the Alchemists’ real problem wasn’t the side effects of Keith’s scheme so much as the fact that he’d simply worked with a Moroi. “And you just said you were better.”
“Better, but not cured.” The tone of his voice sent chills through me. “Those who collaborate with those creatures for anything but the greater good have a long path to redemption, one I’m ready to walk. I have sinned against my own kind and let my soul become corrupted. I am ready to have the darkness purged.”
“You sound legitimately sorry,” I said weakly. “I mean, that’s good, right? That’s got to mean something.”
“I am ready to have the darkness purged,” he repeated. It was hard to say if he knew he was even talking to me. He sounded like he was reciting something. Something he’d recited many, many times, in fact.
Those who collaborate with those creatures for anything but the greater good have a long path to redemption. The impact of those words wasn’t lost on me. I was doing a lot more than collaborating with Adrian. Was this what I risked? This . . . deadness? The last time I’d seen Keith, he’d been screaming for release from the Alchemists. It had been terrible, yet at the same time, there’d been something real to it. A fight. A fire within him. There was nothing now. Keith had been obnoxious and selfish, but he had also always been outgoing and full of personality–even if it was an annoying one. How did he go from cocky to . . . this? What had to be done to him to strip him of all that he was, to get him to agree to whatever he was told?
The tattoo, I realized. They must have re‑inked him with some pretty serious compulsion. And yet . . . some gut instinct told me there was more. The Alchemist ink could make you obey simple commands and make you susceptible to suggestions. This complete personality reversal? That required greater intervention. I was seeing what had to be a combination of a reinforced tattoo and whatever they did in re‑education.
I was also seeing what my fate might be if caught.
“Keith,” I managed at last. “How exactly are you purging that darkness?”
“It’s time to go,” my father suddenly interrupted. “We’re very happy to see you doing well, Keith, and will talk to you later.”
Keith told us goodbye, and we headed out toward our respective cars. Zoe dared a quick, controlled hug to our dad before getting in Quicksilver. I turned to the driver’s door, but he caught hold of my hand. I didn’t resist because I was still numbed by what I’d just witnessed.
“Sydney,” he said, eyes cold. “You truly have done outstanding work. I’m glad Zoe’s here to learn from you. She’s headstrong and untried but will eventually learn. And she’s right about one thing–don’t get distracted. Even if it’s just this teacher of yours. There may be a time you can be allowed some recreation. It’d certainly be nice for you to continue talking to that young and upstanding Ian Jansen. But now, even a seemingly innocent social interaction–with a human–is dangerous. You must stay focused on your task. And I know I don’t have to tell you about friendships with the Moroi and dhampirs.”
“Of course not, sir.” I wanted to gag.
He gave me what passed for a smile with him and then turned without another word. I drove Zoe back to Amberwood, and awkwardness left over from our earlier spat lingered. As much I’d disliked her selling me out to our dad, I still loved her . . . and couldn’t entirely blame her. He was an intimidating person, one who excelled at making you feel inadequate. I’d had plenty of experience with it.
“Hey,” I said, noticing we were passing the ice cream place she and I had gone to last week. “You up for some praline pecan?”
Zoe stared straight ahead without even looking at it. “There’s a lot of fat and sugar in that, Sydney.” Silence fell for a few moments. “Maybe I should stop having driving lessons with Eddie.”
“Is he a bad teacher? Has he done anything, um, sinister?”
“No . . .” The conflict in her voice was nearly palpable. “But he’s still one of them. You heard what Dad said . . . what Keith said. No collaboration.”
“It’s not collaboration. It’s business,” I said pragmatically. “What if there’s an emergency, and you have to drive? We need you prepared. It’s for the greater good.”
Her face relaxed. “I suppose you’re right.”
She was quiet again after that, giving my thoughts ample opportunity to spiral around as I contemplated possible consequences of today’s meal. Maybe my sterling record still kept me untouchable, but Zoe had tattled on some of my other activities. Were my dad’s suspicions raised? It was hard to say, but I would’ve preferred he had no reason to think twice about me.
And of course, I was still troubled by Keith. His face haunted me. What had they done to him? What had he endured in re‑education? And how big a role had re‑inking played? Those questions tumbled in my mind over and over, and when we reached the school, I made a decision. It was a difficult one, and one that wouldn’t necessarily solve all my problems. But I had to act. Seeing Keith had driven home the desperation of my situation.
I had to make the ink. And I had to inject myself with it.
There was no other way. I had to start making preparations to find out if the ink would protect against Alchemist mental manipulation. One of Marcus’s recruits would’ve been a better guinea pig, but there was no time to get one. Inez had said my magic use might muddle the results, but what else could I do? I had no clean test subject, and doing nothing was unacceptable. If there was a way to prevent others–and myself–from turning into Keith, I had to find it. This was my starting point, and I refused to waste another moment.
After the dorm’s dinner, when Zoe went off to a study group, I prepared to go to Ms. Terwilliger’s house after first calling her with a very surprising request. Maybe it was dangerous running out on Zoe after the earlier lecture, but I would claim it was a mandatory assignment if she questioned me later. As I was walking toward the student parking lot, I ran into Trey. He looked like he was on his way to work.
“Yo, Melbourne,” he said, coming to a stop beside me. “I have to ask you something. Angeline’s been hanging out with that dhampir. I just saw them walking off together. Is something going on with them?”
“Which dhampir?” I asked.
“The one with the fake British accent.”