Incredibly, Neil began the same sales pitch to Eddie about sacrificing for the greater good of the Moroi. Neil didn’t mention me and magic, but his offer to Eddie was the same, how there’d be need for someone to stop the Strigoi if things got out of hand. Actually, there was no “if,” I decided. “When” was a better word.
I think Eddie was even more shocked than I was. “No!”
“Eddie,” said Neil in a calm voice. “I know we have our differences, but the truth is, I respect you. I think you’re one of the greatest guardians I’ve ever met, and you’ve done more in your life so far than most seasoned guardians ever will. You and Sydney are the ideal team to have at my back. You have to understand how important this is. It’s true I’ve never fought a Strigoi, but I’ve seen them kill. When I was young.” His expression darkened. “I still dream about it, and if there’s even a tiny thing we can do to stop those monsters, we have to. Just think if we could prevent the conversion of more!”
Eddie wasn’t swayed, and there was a look on his face I’d never seen before. “I’m not denying the principles, but it’s too dangerous. And not just to you. I did something like this once . . .” A pain so intense that it tore at my heart crossed Eddie’s features. “Me and some friends. We thought we could take on Strigoi . . . and my best friend ended up dead. No matter how prepared you think you are, even against only one, the unexpected can happen. You and I may not be enough. Certainly Sydney isn’t—no offense. We’d need more to tip the odds in our favor.”
Neil suddenly looked at me expectantly. It took me a few seconds to realize what he wanted. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”
“I won’t,” he agreed. “But I thought you might want to. If you don’t, I’ll let it go. Do you think Eddie will betray you?”
Both of them were watching me intently, and I kind of wanted to smack Neil. He’d been true to his honor . . . in a loose sense. After hearing his speech twice, I was almost swayed by it. Maybe it was because I was high on the triumph of Trey’s tattoo working. How great would it be to accomplish another feat so many people were depending on? And if Eddie was involved, one Strigoi seemed feasible.
But it’d mean telling Eddie my secret, and too many already knew. The old saying came back to me: Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. The more this got out, the more trouble I was in.
And yet, as I looked into Eddie’s steady gaze, I was reminded of our friendship and all we’d been through. In a world of secrets and lies, there were few I could thoroughly trust anymore, but I knew then, without a doubt, that Eddie was one I could.
Taking a deep breath, hoping I wasn’t being a fool, I held out my hand. A nervous glance around confirmed we were alone, and I brought forth a spark of fire in my palm that soon grew into the size of a tennis ball.
Eddie leaned over and gasped, the orange flames reflecting off his face. “Maybe . . . maybe our odds have gotten better,” he said.
CHAPTER 19
ADRIAN
IT WAS SYDNEY’S BIRTHDAY, and my car wouldn’t start.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said, turning the key for what felt like the hundredth time. The engine churned and churned but wouldn’t turn over. I groaned and rested my forehead against the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”
“Problems?”
I looked up and saw Rowena standing outside the driver’s side door, which I’d left ajar. I threw my hands up. “As you can see.”
She tilted her head to study the car, causing some of her lavender braids to slip forward. “How old is this piece of junk?”
“Bite your tongue, woman. Sydney loves this car. Maybe more than she loves me. Besides, you’re an artist. Figured you’d appreciate a vintage piece. You know, the history, the craftsmanship . . .”
She shook her head. “I drive a Prius.”
I tried to start the Mustang again. No luck. “Damn it, not today of all days. It’s Sydney’s birthday. We had plans.”
“Call a tow, and I’ll give you a ride back home.” She patted my shoulder in sympathy. “I know a guy who works at a shop. He’ll give you a good deal.”
“Not that good,” I said, getting out my cell phone. “Unless it’s free. I’m pretty much broke for the next week and a half.”
“I assume because you got her some sort of extravagant gift?”
“Not exactly. It’s a long story.”
I’d actually come to terms with not being able to shower Sydney with gifts. I was no longer depressed over it or worried I’d have to sell Aunt Tatiana’s cuff links. The pills probably helped with that, but I knew there was more. Between Jill’s pep talk and what had happened in Pennsylvania, excessive material goods no longer held the appeal they had. Would I have loved to drape Sydney in diamonds? Sure, but I didn’t need to. There were far more important things between us. I was content to make her dinner and just savor time alone with her. That was what mattered now. Just us.
Of course, I’d planned on some of this aforementioned alone time taking place in my car, which now seemed to be out of commission. Maybe I no longer plunged to not-getting-out-of-bed levels of despair, but I could get as down as anyone about a failed plan. I said little as Rowena waited with me in the campus parking lot and mostly just let my dark mood simmer around me.
“You’re a poster boy for a brooding artist,” she teased me. “You take classes to learn to do that?”
“Nah, it’s a gift I was born with.”
She grinned and elbowed me. “Cheer up. I’ll take you wherever you need to go. We’ll salvage this day, kiddo.”
It was hard to stay too glum in the face of her sunny disposition. More than that, I could hardly have Sydney come over tonight just to find me pouting. She’d had to pull off a miracle to escape Zoe tonight and postpone a sisterly celebration. She probably could’ve saved herself a lot of stress by just postponing her festivities with me, but it meant something to me to celebrate on the actual day. I had pushed for this night, and now I had to make it work.
A tow truck hauled the Ivashkinator away, and Rowena and I were able to head back to town. I’d scraped the last of my money together to buy food for tonight’s dinner, and Rowena nearly had a heart attack when we arrived at a grocery store and she heard what I was buying.
“Frozen lasagna? An store-bought cake? I thought you loved this girl!”
“I do, but I’m no culinary student.”
“Cassie is.”
“Well, she’s not here.”
Rowena sighed and got out her phone. “Honestly, it’s a wonder you got by before me.”
An hour later, Cassie met Rowena and me at my apartment, carrying a bag of groceries. I watched as they unloaded all sorts of ingredients I’d never dream of using, like andouille and okra. There was also a bottle of white wine.
“Sydney doesn’t drink,” I told them.
“Whatever,” said Cassie, getting out a corkscrew. “This is for me while I cook.”
Rowena winced. After our outing to that bar, I was pretty sure Rowena thought I should be in a recovery group. Maybe she was right. I could tell she was about to chastise Cassie for drinking, and I waved it off.
“I’m fine.” To my surprise, I realized it was true. “Far be it from me to do anything that would interfere with a cook’s genius.”
Cassie glanced up from her glass. “Hey, you’re going to help. I’m not making this gumbo alone.”
“When I think romantic birthday dinners, I don’t think soup.”
“Soup?” She nearly choked on her wine. “You think this is mere soup? I needed something you can’t mess up while you’re waiting for her to get here. This is going to get better and better the more it simmers, and when she does arrive and taste it, she’ll be yours forever. You’re welcome.”