The Fiery Heart (18 page)

“There you are,” she said.

Ms. Terwilliger glanced up from her desk and gave me a knowing look. “Thank you for taking those papers to the office for me. I was just explaining to your cousin how helpful you've been to me.”

I smiled stiffly. “Happy to help, ma'am. Am I excused?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She returned to her paperwork without a second glance.

“What's the urgency?” I asked as Zoe and I left the classroom.

“We have to go meet Dad now,” she said.

“Now? It's not dinnertime. It's not even senior-citizen dinnertime.”

“Dad got into town early and didn't want to waste time.”

I tried not to scowl. “And once again, I'm the last to know.”

She shot me a wounded look. “You seem to have
other things
you think are more important. Figured you wouldn't care.”

“Don't start,” I warned. We reached the parking garage, and I did my usual scan of Quicksilver to make sure no idiot parker had scratched the paint.

To my surprise, Zoe backed down. “You're right. We shouldn't be fighting with each other. Today we're sisters, not just Alchemists. We need to unite against our common enemy.”

“You mean Mom?” I asked incredulously. Zoe nodded in confirmation, and I had to bite my lip on a retort, lest I really did get a fight going.

The restaurant my dad had chosen was exactly what I would've expected from him. He had no patience for what he saw as frills and excesses, so any fancy restaurant that played on mystery or romance was out. Yet, despite his pragmatism, he also couldn't handle a bare-bones café that would be loud and have questionable cleaning and food standards. So, he'd managed to find a Japanese fine-dining place adjacent to a hotel that prided itself on minimalism. The decor was stark, with lots of clean lines, but the food and reputation were outstanding.

“Hello, Dad,” I said. He was already at the table when we arrived and didn't stand up to hug us. Not even Zoe expected that.

“Sydney, Zoe,” he said. Naming me first wasn't a sign of preference, so much as respecting the birth order. If Carly had been here, he would have named her first. For double efficiency, that was also alphabetical order. A waiter came by to offer us water and tea just then, and my dad handed over the menu. “This is a dinner menu. Please bring us the lunch menu.”

“Lunchtime is over, sir,” the waiter said politely. “We've switched menus.”

My dad met him squarely in the eye. “Are you trying to tell me three thirty is dinnertime?”

“No . . .” The waiter glanced helplessly around at the empty restaurant, save for two businessmen drinking at the bar. “It's not really anytime.”

“Well, in that case, I see no reason I should have to pay dinner prices. Bring me the lunch menu.”

“But lunch ended at two.”

“Then bring me a manager.”

The waiter left and returned quickly—with a lunch menu. I tried not to sink into my seat.

“Now then,” said my dad, supremely proud of himself. “Let's get food out of the way and get down to business.”

My stomach lurched as I wondered what kind of business he had to take care of exactly. Even without that anxiety, I wasn't really hungry but made a good faith effort and ordered sushi.

“That's a small plate,” my dad noted.

The correct words flowed right off my tongue. “It's also the cheapest. Even on the lunch menu, this place is overpriced. No point in going overboard when eating during business is a social convention anyway. Besides, we're getting free food at our dorm tonight as part of our tuition.”

He nodded in approval. “Very true. You look like you've gained some weight too, so it's smart to back off.”

I gave him a stiff smile, swallowing the urge to tell him I still fit firmly in a size four. I was just a much healthier-looking four, rather than a slightly malnourished one. Meanwhile, Zoe—who'd been about to set the menu down—quickly opened it again when she heard him rebuke me. She'd probably planned on ordering tempura, one of her favorite dishes, and now feared my dad's ire over fried food. I could stomach him making comments about my weight, but if he said anything to her, I was going to have to resist the urge to throw my tea at him. In the end, she ordered what I did, even though I knew she didn't really like sushi.

Once the waiter left with our orders, my dad took out two manila envelopes and handed us each one. “No point in wasting time. As you can see, I've gathered information to help you in your testimony against your mother.”

I had to shut my jaw as I flipped through pages of my mother's life. College transcripts, job history. There were a number of photographs, including one taken during what looked like a yoga class. I held it up. It showed several students, including my mom, walking out of the studio and carrying their mats.

“What is this?” I asked.

“See that man there?” My dad pointed at one of the guys talking to my mother. “That's her instructor. She talked to him a lot during her sessions.”

“Well, wouldn't she if he's her instructor?”

There was an ugly sneer on my dad's lips. “Unless there were other reasons.”

“What?”
The picture slipped from my hand. “No. No way. Mom would never have an affair.”

He shrugged. “She wants a divorce, doesn't she?”

I could've named a dozen reasons she wanted one, but I instead opted for neutrality. “Do you have any other proof?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it doesn't matter. The insinuation is enough. We just need to make her look unreliable. Dropping out of college helps, as does her sketchy employment history. She's never held a full-time job.”

“Because she was taking care of us,” I said. My dad had looked out for our education, but she was the one who handled our day-to-day lives, managing the house and hugging us through our injuries.

“Again—not important. There's enough documentation here to demonstrate what a fickle parental figure she'd be. At the very least, it'll ensure joint custody, though I'd be surprised if I didn't get full.”

“Do you have any ins on the legal side?” I asked, again with a forced smile.

He scowled. “No, though not for lack of trying.”

“So they'll just have to base the case on facts,” I remarked, deadpan.

“Yes. We'll be fine if you girls do your part.” He paused as the waiter delivered hot towels. “I know I don't have to tell you how important this is. Zoe is a valuable asset in our cause, which is growing more and more critical each day. The reintroduction of vampire hunters has gotten a lot of attention. We can't let their chaotic nature ruin what we've worked for.”

That was a relief, at least. Most Alchemists found the Warriors of Light to be a primitive group of trigger-happy rebels, though Marcus had discovered recent evidence that some Alchemists were working with the Warriors. There was also evidence that the Warriors knew about Jill. I was glad my dad was on the side of reason and mainstream Alchemist thought here.

To my surprise, he looked directly at me. “A lot of what we know is a result of your efforts.” It was as close as he could get to a compliment.

“I just did what I had to do,” I told him.

“Between that, uncovering Keith's crimes, and stomaching that wedding, you've caught the attention of many of our higher-ups.”

Awkward silence fell. Condemnation was more our status quo than praise, and I certainly wasn't sure how to handle it. Zoe cleared her throat. “I supervised a feeding by myself,” she said proudly. “I mean, not the actual blood drinking part. But Sydney couldn't make it when the Moroi had to go to Clarence Donahue's house for a feeding. So I took over.”

My dad jerked his gaze back to me. “Why couldn't you make it?”

“I had to work on a school project,” I explained.

“I see.” But there was a small frown on his face.

“Sydney's always working on school projects,” Zoe added. I think she was hurt that her “supervising” role hadn't received more acknowledgment. “Always gone after school. Always running errands and hanging out with her history teacher.”

“We don't hang out,” I countered.

“You have coffee together, don't you?” asked Zoe triumphantly.

“Well, yeah, but that's not—”

“What subject is this for?” my dad interrupted. “Chemistry?”

Zoe and I answered in unison. “History.”

His frown deepened. “That's a nonessential subject. All of them are, actually. You've already received a superior education.”

“Yes, but keeping my cover is essential,” I pointed out. “Being an exemplary student has a lot of advantages. They give me a lot of freedom, and being able to leave campus after hours to run errands for Ms. Terwilliger means I'm able to get away and help the Moroi if needed without drawing attention. We can't risk them doing something stupid and creating a scene.”

That seemed to mollify our dad, but Zoe was on the offensive now. “It's more than that. You and her are friends. You talk about vacations to Greece and Rome.”

Where had this come from? I'd expected to face interrogation from my dad, not her. “So what if we talk sometimes? She's human. No harm.”

“The harm is you can't give your full attention to the mission.” There was a hard look on Zoe's face I didn't like. “And maybe she's human, but you certainly have Moroi and dhampir friends.”

Our dad's eyebrows shot up, but the food arrived just then, giving me time to build a response. He jumped before I could. “What does that mean—Moroi and dhampir friends?”

“Sydney hangs out with them,” Zoe declared. “Does favors for them.”

I fixed her with a hard glare that made her flinch. “It's my job to oversee them. There's a fine line of learning how to socialize with them in order to earn their trust and get them to do what I need—something you haven't picked up on yet. Good God, I had to
live
with one! I was ordered to, something you'd never be able to handle, seeing as you freaked out ‘supervising' that dinner. So don't judge my style, seeing as you aren't the one who uncovered Keith, the Warriors, and everything else.”

“Now, now, girls. Don't fight.” Yet I couldn't help but notice my dad looked delighted by it. I think he thought competition made us stronger. “You both make excellent points. Zoe, Sydney has demonstrated time and again how loyal she is and how outstandingly she can perform her job. Sydney, Zoe's right that you shouldn't get too caught up in this teacher or the Moroi, even if it is part of your cover. There are certain lines that must never, ever be crossed. You saw that with Keith, when he succumbed to making deals with Moroi.”

Zoe and I were cowed for several moments. “Do you know how Keith is?” I asked.

My dad's features smoothed out. “Yes, he's been released.”

I was so surprised, I dropped the sushi I'd carefully lifted with my chopsticks. “He has?”

“Yes. He was successfully re-educated and is now working in Charleston. In an office, of course. He's certainly not ready for the field. But it's a relief to all of us that the education took. It doesn't always, unfortunately. Not even when they reinforce the tattoo.”

The hair stood up on the back of my neck. “Reinforce the tattoo? You mean re-inking?”

“Somewhat.” He was very careful with his words. “Let's just say, there are certain modifications to the ink that can help troubled souls like Keith.”

Until Marcus had told me about this, I'd never heard anyone give voice to it. “Ink with stronger compulsion for obedience and group loyalty?”

My dad's eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?” he demanded.

“I've heard rumors.” I prayed he wouldn't demand details but was fully prepared to lie. His gaze weighed me for several long moments before he finally decided not to press me for more.

“It's an ugly step,” he said at last. “And it relies on getting help from
them.
But it's necessary. People like Keith are a danger not just to us, but to all of humanity. Maybe the Moroi aren't as bad as the Strigoi, but they aren't natural. They aren't part of the order of this world, and we must keep their influence away from our fellow man. It's our duty. Our divine duty. Anyone who can't understand the balance we maintain with these monsters hurts the cause. Yes, it took a lot of intervention, but Keith has been reclaimed. We've saved his soul. You did, Sydney.” Inspiration lit my dad's face. “You should talk to him sometime. You should see the good you've done.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, I—”

“After dinner,” my dad said decisively. “We'll call him then.”

A rebellious part of me wanted to ask, “Aren't we having lunch?” But I bit my tongue. I didn't really feel like talking anymore. Thankfully, Zoe was still gung ho to get his attention and talked enough for both of us. And as the meal wound down, it drifted back to the court hearing. I nodded along mechanically.

“I'm glad I can count on you two,” he said as we stood up to leave. “Not that I doubted—but after Carly, well. It's hard to say.”

“What about Carly?” I asked quickly. I noticed he hadn't left a tip, and I discreetly tossed cash on the table as we walked away.

He scowled. “She's going to speak on behalf of your mother. But don't worry. It won't be enough.”

Joy filled me, and I struggled to keep it off my face. Carly was standing up to our dad! Admittedly, she didn't face the same pressures Zoe and I did, but I was so proud of my older sister. She was usually the timid one in the family. For her to make this stand for our mother meant she'd come a long way. I wondered if she'd ever have the courage to tell how Keith had raped her. This was a start.

Speaking of Keith . . . my father was determined to show me the “good” I'd done, no matter how much I assured him it wasn't necessary. When we got to the parking lot, he made a couple of calls to get him through to Keith, and—worst of all—used the video feature. I silently begged for Keith to be doing something, anything, that would keep him away. No luck. After a minute or so, my dad finally got through, and Keith's face appeared on the phone's screen. Zoe and I crowded on each side of my dad.