The Fiery Heart (Bloodlines 4)

“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.”

Despite her claims, Cassie didn’t actually make me do that much. I think she was afraid I’d mess it up, though I really did try to pay attention in the hopes of improving myself. Peeling prawns was a mystery to me, and I’d never even heard of roux. Cooking was actually kind of fun when you were with someone who knew how to do it. Once the gumbo was covered and on its way, Cassie began mixing up ingredients for chocolate-peppermint cupcakes. She had just handed me a spoon to stir when I heard my phone ring. Usually, I kept it on vibrate, but today, Queen’s “Under Pressure” played in full effect. Rowena and Cassie made no effort to hide their laughter.

I yielded the spoon and ran off to the living room, where I saw an unfamiliar number on the phone.

“Adrian? It’s Marcus. I’m in back in the country.”

For a horrifying moment, I had visions of Marcus crashing my awesome birthday celebration with Sydney. I could practically see him slurping gumbo.

“We’re still in Arizona finishing some stuff,” he continued. “But I’m planning to be in Palm Springs on Sunday. I figured we should set things up—and that I shouldn’t contact Sydney directly.”

“Good idea.” The Love Phone was just for us, and her other phone could be too easily tracked by the Alchemists. Sydney always worried about getting in trouble with them, but Marcus actually risked a lot more. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Do you know how much ink she made?”

I’d been around for a lot of the process. “About enough to fill a standard-sized paint bucket.”

“Hmm. Maybe we could meet in the parking lot of a home-improvement store. We’d look like ordinary customers.”

“Pulling up beside each other and exchanging a paint bucket? Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all.”

“You got a better idea? You never know where the Alchemists are watching.”

“Pretty sure they won’t be watching a teacher of hers,” I said. “The ink’s at her house anyway. Meet up there, and you’ll at least have a chance to talk. I’m sure Sydney’ll want to give you some instructions.”

“That’s a good idea,” Marcus said reluctantly. “As long as you think this teacher’s safe.”

“Perfectly.”

I gave him the address, and we set up a time. When we disconnected, Cassie and Rowena were giggling as they leaned together and worked on the cupcakes, so I decided to let them be. I dug out the Love Phone and texted Sydney.

Robin Hood called. He’s going to meet you at JT’s, Sunday at 8 p.m. Will that work?

Her response came quickly. I’ll make it work. Thanks for setting it up.

He figured everything should go through me to be safe. Think you can still come over tonight?

I could practically hear her sigh. Yes, but it was hard-won, and there’ll be hell to pay tomorrow. Plus we had another fight about the divorce. Tell you later.

Did you just use the H-word? Nineteen, and you’re a whole different woman.

As I started to put the phone away, I noticed I’d missed two calls from Angeline a couple hours ago. I debated over whether I should call her back. After all, there was always the stealing-a-shuttle-bus possibility. But surely if something was wrong, Sydney would know before me. Angeline hadn’t left voice mail, so I decided to take it on faith that everything was fine and she just had some random question.

The cupcakes were in the oven when I returned to the kitchen, and Cassie was finishing stirring a bowl of frosting.

“Wait, you can make that stuff?” I asked. “I thought it just came in cans.”

She tapped the spoon on the bowl to shake off the excess. “You sure you vouch for this guy, Ro?”

Rowena grinned. “Not for cooking. But for art and romantic good intentions, he’s a sound investment.”

“Don’t forget life advice,” I said. “I’m pretty good at that too.”

“I assure you, I didn’t forget that,” Rowena said drily. Glancing around, she frowned. “This is a nice place, but I’d never guess you had a girlfriend. There are no pictures. Doesn’t she ever leave anything? A coat or a stuffed animal?”

Her words caused a pang in my heart because she was right. Normal people let relationships fill their homes. At the very least, I should have had a picture of Sydney and me together taped on my refrigerator. My apartment showed no signs that I had a girlfriend because as far as most of the world was concerned, I didn’t.

“If you knew her, you’d know she never leaves stuff behind.” I didn’t acknowledge the lack of pictures. “She’s too organized. I’m the one you can’t trust to remember things.”

Cassie pointed at the stove’s timer. “Think you can be trusted to take them out and frost them? You’ve got to wait for them to cool. Most people don’t.”

“Sure thing. And just to prove it, I’ll write it down and—”

A knock sounded at my door, and for half a second, I worried Sydney had shown up early. Even if Rowena and Cassie were friends, finding two girls at your boyfriend’s apartment probably wasn’t an awesome birthday surprise. But when I looked out the door’s peephole, I was blown away to see Angeline.

She sashayed in when I opened the door and flipped her red hair over one shoulder. “We need to talk, and you wouldn’t answer your phone. Oh.” Her eyes focused on the kitchen. “You got a date?”

Rowena snorted. “In his dreams.”

I made introductions, passing Angeline off as my cousin, per our usual procedure in Palm Springs. Since there was no telling what might come out of her mouth, I decided it was best to get rid of Rowena and Cassie as soon as possible.

“You guys saved my life,” I told them. “For real. This is a lot better than frozen lasagna.”

Rowena winked at me. “Something tells me you and your charm could’ve sold it.”

“Well, now I can save that charm up for something else.”

Even Cassie smiled at that. “Don’t forget to add the crushed peppermint candy. And when you frost—”

“—make sure they’re completely cool,” I finished.

I walked them out, and she kept giving me last-minute instructions until the door actually shut between us. When I returned inside, I found Angeline poking around in the kitchen. “Do not touch anything,” I warned, seeing her reach for the gumbo lid.

She pulled back. “How’d they save your life? What’s all this for?”

“A friend.”

“Like a friend you sleep with?”

“Like a friend who’s none of your business.”

“These cupcakes look good.” She peered into the oven door. “You know, it’s Sydney’s birthday. If you were nice, you’d send me back with some.”

“I don’t even know why you’re here to begin with. Or how.”

“I took the bus.” Angeline abandoned her kitchen inspection and trudged out to the living room. “Something weird is going on.”

I nearly laughed, except her face looked so serious. “Which, uh, particular weird thing are you referring to?”

“Sydney, Neil, and Eddie. They’re up to something. They’re always talking and then stop whenever I come around.”

After what had happened at Court, I wasn’t surprised to hear that Sydney and Neil were talking a lot. I had no doubt she’d want to find out if everything was going okay with the tattoo—which, I reminded myself, I needed to help him embellish.

“A lot of stuff went down at Court,” I told Angeline. “Stuff that Sydney and Neil had a big part of. They’re probably just debriefing over it.”

“Then why’s Eddie involved?”

Good question. His role was a bit harder to understand, but maybe Sydney just wanted someone else to bounce ideas off of. I could understand why she’d prefer Eddie to Angeline. It was also possible that Angeline was exaggerating how clandestine the conversations were. Regardless, I trusted whatever Sydney was doing, and if she didn’t want Angeline involved, I’d support that.

“She probably doesn’t want to bother you since you’re so busy,” I said. “Aren’t you failing English?”

Angeline flushed. “It’s not my fault.”

“Even I know you can’t write an entry on Wikipedia and then use it as a source in your essay.” Sydney had been torn between horror and hysterics when she told me.

“I took ‘primary source’ to a whole new level!”

Honestly, it was a wonder we’d gotten by for so long without Angeline. Life must have been so boring before her.

“You better work on taking your grade to a whole new level.” I sounded nearly as responsible as Sydney. The oven timer went off, and I hurried to take the cupcakes out. “So get back on the bus, stop dreaming up conspiracy theories, and—God. You’re not supposed to leave campus alone!”

Her face showed that was the least of her problems. “I figured you’d give me a ride back and could cover if anyone said anything.”