“I don’t know about that. But it did give us the information we needed. Which isn’t good.”
Adrian grew serious. “Are you sure? Maybe Veronica left the area altogether. Maybe you and the other girls are out of danger.”
“That would be good, I guess . . . except, it just means some other poor girl somewhere else would suffer instead, and we wouldn’t have any way to stop it.” From my purse, I pulled out Ms. Terwilliger’s list of magic-using girls. “One of these addresses is in Pasadena. We can at least swing through on our way back and warn her.”
The girl we sought was named Wendy Stone. She was a student at Cal Tech, which seemed like an odd vocation for a wannabe witch. Of course, Ms. Terwilliger had said these were girls who weren’t actively studying the magical path. They simply possessed magical ability, and I supposed the fact that they had no mentors suggested that they might actually be resistant to their inborn abilities—kind of like me.
Wendy lived in an apartment near campus that was easy to find. It was a no-nonsense, primarily student residence, but it seemed like a luxury palace after Marcus’s building. As we passed busy students carrying backpacks and talking about classes, I felt a pang of longing that I hadn’t experienced in a while. Inheriting the Alchemist mantle meant I couldn’t go to college. College was a dream I’d held on to for a long time, though enrolling at Amberwood had helped ease some of my longing. Now, in this buzz of academia, a surge of jealousy sprang up in me. What would it be like to have this kind of life? To have your days solely devoted to the pursuit of knowledge, with no intrigue or life-threatening situations? Even Adrian, with his part-time art classes, was able to have some sort of collegiate experience.
“Don’t be so down,” he said when we reached Wendy’s floor. “You might get to college someday.”
I looked over at him in wonder. “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”
“Because I know you,” he said simply, no mockery in his eyes. “Your aura got sad, and I figured being on a college campus had something to do with it.”
I couldn’t meet his gaze and turned away. “I don’t like that.”
“What, that someone actually knows what’s important in your life?”
Yes, that was exactly it. But why did it bother me? Because it was Adrian, I realized. Why was it that a vampire understood me so well? Why not one of my friends? Why not one of my human friends?
“You can be Jet if you want,” I said brusquely, trying to get us back on track and cover up my troubled feelings. After all, this wasn’t Sydney’s Therapy Hour. “But we are not posing as a couple again.”
“Are you sure?” he said. His tone was lighter now, turning him back into the Adrian I knew. “Because I’ve got a lot more terms of endearment to use. Honey pie. Sugarplum. Bread pudding.”
“Why are they all high-calorie foods?” I asked. I didn’t want to encourage him, but the question slipped out before I could stop it. “And bread pudding isn’t really that romantic.”
We had reached Wendy’s door. “Do you want me to call you celery stick instead?” he asked. “It just doesn’t inspire the same warm and fuzzy feelings.”
“I want you to call me Sydney.” I knocked on the door. “Er, Taylor.”
A girl with freckles and frizzy red hair answered. Her eyes narrowed warily. “Yes?”
“We’re looking for Wendy Stone,” I said.
She scowled. “Are you from the registrar’s office? Because I told them the check’s on its way.”
“No.” I lowered my voice and made sure there were no witnesses. “My name’s Taylor. We’re here to talk to you about, um, magic.”
The transformation was sudden and startling. She went from suspicious and cautious to shocked and outraged. “No. No. I’ve told you guys a hundred times I don’t want to be involved! I can’t believe you’d actually show up at my door to try to convert me to your little coven freak show.”
She tried to shut the door, but Adrian managed to stick his foot in and block it. Very manly. “Wait,” he said. “That’s not what this is about. Your life might be in danger.”
Wendy turned incredulous. “So you guys are threatening me now?”
“No, nothing like that. Please,” I pleaded. “Just let us talk to you for five minutes inside. Then we’ll leave and never bother you again.”
Wendy hesitated and then finally gave a nod of resignation. “Fine. But I’m getting my pepper spray.”
Her apartment was neat and tidy, save for a pile of papers and engineering books scattered on the floor. We’d apparently interrupted her homework, which brought back my wistfulness. She made good on her promise to get the pepper spray and then stood before us with crossed arms.
“Talk,” she ordered.
I showed her the picture of Veronica. “Have you ever seen this woman?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” Or was it? Did that mean Veronica might have Wendy tagged as a future hit and was waiting to pounce? “She’s dangerous. I’m not exactly sure how to put it. . . .”
“She finds girls with magic and sucks away their souls,” supplied Adrian helpfully.
Wendy did a double take. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“That’s not exactly the case,” I said. “But it’s close enough. She seeks out girls with power and takes it for herself.”
“But I don’t use magic,” Wendy countered. “Like I told you, I don’t want anything to do with it. There’s a witch who lives in Anaheim who’s always telling me how much potential I have and how I should be her apprentice. I keep telling her no, and I’ve never even tried any spells. This soul-sucking lady has no reason to come after me.”
Ms. Terwilliger had warned me some of the girls might say this. In fact, she’d said most would have this argument.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “That won’t stop her.”
Wendy looked terrified now, and I didn’t blame her. My reaction had been similar. It was frustrating to know the very thing you were trying to get away from might come after you.
“Then what should I do?” she asked.
“Well, avoid her if you can. If she comes to see you . . . I mean, don’t let her in. Don’t be alone with her.” That was slightly lame advice, and we all knew it. “If you do see her, I’d tell that witch in Anaheim. In fact . . . I know you don’t want to, but if I were you, I’d get in touch with that witch now and try to get her help. Maybe even learn a few defensive spells. I understand you don’t want to—believe me, I really do—but it could save your life. Also . . . ” I held out the agate charm. “You should take this and wear it at all times.”
Wendy eyed the charm as though it were a poisonous snake. “Is this some trick to get me to learn magic after all? You come here with this whole act about how if I don’t learn, I could get my soul sucked away?”
Again, I had to give her points. I would think exactly the same thing. “We’re telling the truth,” I insisted. “There’s no proof I can offer—well, wait. Give me your email address, and I’ll send you this article about another girl it happened to.”
Wendy looked like she was on the verge of using the pepper spray. “I think I would’ve heard if some girl had her soul magically sucked away.”
“It wasn’t really obvious to those who don’t know about the magical world. Let me send it to you, and then you can make your own decisions. It’s the best I can offer.”
She reluctantly agreed and wrote down her email address. Adrian stepped forward to take it from her, but he must have moved too quickly because she suddenly thrust the can of pepper spray in his direction.