Three other Alchemists were there as well, all men. They were introduced to me as Barnes, Michaelson, and Horowitz. Barnes and Michaelson were my father and Stanton’s age. Horowitz was younger, mid-twenties, and was setting up a tattooist’s tools. All of them were dressed like me, wearing business casual clothing in nondescript colors. Our goal was always to look nice but not attract notice. The Alchemists had been playing Men in Black for centuries, long before humans dreamed of life on other worlds. When the light hit their faces the right way, each Alchemist displayed a lily tattoo identical to mine.
Again, my unease grew. Was this some kind of interrogation? An assessment to see if my decision to help a renegade half-vampire girl meant my loyalties had changed? I crossed my arms over my chest and schooled my face to neutrality, hoping I looked cool and confident. If I still had a chance to plead my case, I intended to present a solid one.
Before anyone could utter another word, Zoe entered. She shut the door behind her and peered around in terror, her eyes wide. Our father’s study was huge—he’d built an addition on to our house for it—and it easily held all the occupants. But as I watched my sister take in the scene, I knew she felt stifled and trapped. I met her eyes and tried to send a silent message of sympathy. It must have worked because she scurried to my side, looking only fractionally less afraid.
“Zoe,” said my father. He let her name hang in the air in this way he had, making it clear to both of us that he was disappointed. I could immediately guess why. She wore jeans and an old sweatshirt and had her brown hair in two cute but sloppy braids. By any other person’s standards, she would have been “presentable”—but not by his. I felt her cower against me, and I tried to make myself taller and more protective. After making sure his condemnation was felt, our father introduced Zoe to the others. Stanton gave her the same polite nod she’d given me and then turned toward my father.
“I don’t understand, Jared,” said Stanton. “Which one of them are you going to use?”
“Well, that’s the problem,” my father said. “Zoe was requested . . . but I’m not sure she’s ready. In fact, I know she isn’t. She’s only had the most basic of training. But in light of Sydney’s recent . . . experiences . . .”
My mind immediately began to pull the pieces together. First, and most importantly, it seemed I wasn’t going to be sent to a re-education center. Not yet, at least. This was about something else. My earlier suspicion was correct. There was some mission or task afoot, and someone wanted to sub in Zoe because she, unlike certain other members of her family, had no history of betraying the Alchemists. My father was right that she’d only received basic instruction. Our jobs were hereditary, and I had been chosen years ago as the next Alchemist in the Sage family. My older sister, Carly, had been passed over and was now away at college and too old. He’d taught Zoe as backup instead, in the event something happened to me, like a car accident or vampire mauling.
I stepped forward, not knowing what I was going to say until I spoke. The only thing I knew for sure was that I could not let Zoe get sucked into the Alchemists’ schemes. I feared for her safety more than I did going to a re-education center—and I was pretty afraid of that. “I spoke to a committee about my actions after they happened,” I said. “I was under the impression that they understood why I did the things I did. I’m fully qualified to serve in whatever way you need—much more so than my sister. I have real-world experience. I know this job inside and out.”
“A little too much real-world experience, if memory serves,” said Stanton dryly.
“I for one would like to hear these ‘reasons’ again,” said Barnes, using his fingers to make air quotes. “I’m not thrilled about tossing a half-trained girl out there, but I also find it hard to believe someone who aided a vampire criminal is ‘fully qualified to serve.‘” More pretentious air quotes.
I smiled back pleasantly, masking my anger. If I showed my true emotions, it wouldn’t help my case. “I understand, sir. But Rose Hathaway was eventually proven innocent of the crime she’d been accused of. So, I wasn’t technically aiding a criminal. My actions eventually helped find the real murderer.”
“Be that as it may, we—and you—didn’t know she was ‘innocent’ at the time,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “But I believed she was.”
Barnes snorted. “And there’s the problem. You should’ve believed what the Alchemists told you, not run off with your own far-fetched theories. At the very least, you should’ve taken what evidence you’d gathered to your superiors.”