What the hell had she seen in Keith?
“You should have Wolfe tattoo you too,” I said gently. “If you’re worried, that is. Just in case Inez was wrong about magic use undoing yours.”
A pained look crossed her face. “I thought about it, believe me. The problem is, I can’t easily do it with Zoe around. This process irritates the skin, and even though the most obvious effects are gone in a few days, it’s still not something I can hide while living with her. I’ve just got to take my chances and wait.”
“You going to tell Marcus about this?”
“If he ever calls,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s probably passed out at some cantina.”
“We can dream visit him, you know,” I said.
“Adrian.” Her voice was stern. “You know we can’t.”
“I know no such thing,” I declared. “I haven’t used spirit in a long time. Not really since–well. You know. That night. A little burst like this for the greater good? No problem.” I made the boast without thinking, mostly because it was a gut instinct to help her. It occurred to me too late that I might not actually be capable of it with the pills.
“It’s dangerous,” she said. But I could see indecision in her eyes. She wanted to talk to Marcus in theory but didn’t want to put me at risk.
“What’s dangerous is not doing what we can to protect others. And if that means talking to my favorite outlaw, we should do it. I should do it.” I had to try. Maybe it’d end in failure, but I was powerless against helping her.
She hesitated and then gave me the best answer I could expect: “We’ll discuss it later.”
Whatever his other flaws, Wolfe proved surprisingly competent. The tattoo process seemed to take forever, but he didn’t gouge any holes in Trey’s back. When they finally finished an hour later, Trey’s skin was pink and irritated, dotted with a little blood. Both Sydney and Wolfe assured us that was normal. He nodded in satisfaction and allowed Trey to sit up for cleaning and bandaging.
“I covered the whole thing,” said Wolfe. “How long until it fades?”
“It can take a while,” Sydney said smoothly. “Sometimes you need a few more applications, but I’ve got a good feeling about this. Thanks for your help.” Again, she spoke so easily that I could almost believe we were just doing a cosmetic removal and not protecting against mind‑controlling magic.
“Wish they’d had that kind of thing back when I was younger,” Wolfe said wistfully. “If I’d known what I knew now, I never would’ve gotten Tocllul tattooed on my thigh. But, hey, I was practically a kid myself and thought Tocllul and I would be together forever.”
“Toc–what?” I asked.
“Tocllul. This Aztec princess I met while I was backpacking around Mexico.”
Trey leaned forward. “Did you say Aztec?”
“Yup. The last of her people. Her family had fallen on hard times, though, and had to sell souvenirs to make ends meet. I competed in several death‑defying games of honor to prove my worthiness. I finally won the right to be her royal consort, but after a couple months, I got restless. I wasn’t ready to settle down. It broke her heart when I left, but what could I do? I was young, filled with wanderlust. I had to be free. Free as a bird.”
“‘And this bird you cannot change,’” I said solemnly. Sydney shot me a wry look. “So you’ve still got her name on you?”
“Nah.” He pushed up one leg of his Bermuda shorts, revealing a hairy thigh and Tactful written in slightly faded navy ink. “I got back to the States and found a guy to modify it. This was the best we could come up with the letters available.”
“It’s a very noble trait,” said Jackie. I studied her and couldn’t tell if she was lying either. It made the temptation to switch to aura vision that much stronger. She watched as Sydney helped patch Trey up. “Do you need anything else? Any of you? I admit, I feel rather useless.”
“You were the hostess,” said Sydney, stepping back as Trey put his shirt back on. “You’ve done plenty.”
“Well, I’m happy to do more if you guys want to stay for a while.”
Judging from the way Wolfe’s eyebrow rose over his eye patch, the only person he envisioned staying longer was himself.
“We need to get going,” I said, speaking for all of us. If Jackie gave Sydney permission to be out, I supposed we could theoretically use the time to sneak a bit to eat. Even Trey could come. I really didn’t care, so long as it gave me a few more precious moments with Sydney. A buzz on her cell phone told me that wasn’t an option. She checked the display and sighed.
“Yikes. This is the fourth one Zoe’s sent. I didn’t hear them over the needle.” She put the phone away. “I’m sure I’ll get an earful for being out this late.”
“Don’t go home,” I said impulsively. Trey was asking Wolfe a question, and I leaned close to Sydney’s ear. “Escape plan number thirty‑one: We’ll get in my car and won’t stop until we’re somewhere safe.”
The love that answered me in her eyes had an almost tangible quality, and I had to fight the urge to hold her. “We’d have to stop a dozen times. Your car gets terrible gas mileage.”
We walked out with Trey, who was handling all this surprisingly well for someone who got roped into an experiment he knew very little about. At first, I assumed it was just because he had that kind of faith in Sydney. Then I realized there was more to it.
“You’ve made my day letting me meet that guy,” Trey told her. “Maybe my year. He’s unreal. And he and Ms. T. . . . they’re really . . .?”
Sydney winced. “I think so.”
She walked out with Trey, giving me one last look, and I waited inside a couple of minutes, just so we wouldn’t be seen leaving together. Even in a strange neighborhood like this, we couldn’t take any chances. I knew I’d see her soon if I was able to pull off the dream, but that sense of melancholy clung to me over the frustrating state of our relationship. I didn’t want a dream. I wanted reality, and having it beyond my grasp bit at me deeply. Einstein had been right. The prescription might take the edge off, but there was no getting rid of your emotions. They were part of being alive.
Back at my place, I kept an eye on the clock, trying to gauge how long it would take Sydney to get to her room and go to sleep. She’d said we’d talk about the spirit dream later, but since we hadn’t, I was reading that as a go‑ahead. I was tired myself–a new experience–yet insanely anxious and curious about whether or not I’d be able to create the dream. I knew there’d be no shame in telling Sydney the truth. She’d understand and even be proud of what I’d done. But it was a reminder of my own initial fears about taking the mood stabilizer: that in freeing myself of spirit’s darkness, I’d also lose the ability to help those I cared about.
When enough time had passed, I relaxed into the meditative state necessary for dream walking. Reaching within myself, I pulled on the magic that slept inside me, the spirit tied into my life essence. I didn’t come up empty, not exactly, but it was like trying to grasp water in your palm. It kept slipping through my fingers. Panic began to move through me, and I staunchly refused to let it get the best of me. Just like with my professor and the aura, I kept trying and trying to grip the magic. There was even less of it than I’d had then, and a spirit dream required far more than viewing an aura. Nonetheless, I was finally able to spin enough into the foundation of a dream. My bedroom vanished, and I found myself standing in the Getty Villa’s courtyard. Only, it looked nothing like it. The world around me flickered and faded, like bad TV reception. And it took every ounce of my energy to maintain even that shoddy of an effort. Wasting no more time, I pulled Sydney into it.