"Clarence told me about you," I said at last. "He showed me your picture, and I saw how you'd tattooed over the lily. I didn't even know that was possible." The tattoo never faded.
"Clarence Donahue?" Marcus looked genuinely pleased. "He's a good guy. I suppose you'd be friends with him if you're in Palm Springs, huh?"
I started to say we weren't friends but then reconsidered. What else were we?
"Getting this isn't easy," added Marcus, tapping the blue tattoo. "You'll have to do a lot of work if you want to do it."
I stepped backward. "Whoa, I never said that's what I wanted. And why in the world would I do it anyway?"
"Because it'll free you," he said simply. "It prevents you from discussing vampire affairs, right? You don't think that's all it does, do you? Think. What stops it from exerting other control?"
I pretty much had to just give up on any expectations for this conversation because every topic was crazier than the last. "I've never heard of anything like that. I've never felt anything like that. Aside from it protecting vampire information, I'm in control."
He nodded. "Probably. The initial tattoo usually only has the talking compulsion in it. They only start adding other components with re-inks if they've got a reason to worry about you. People can sometimes fight through those and if they do . . . well, then it's off to re-education."
His words sent a chill through me, and I rested a hand on my cheek as I flashbacked to the meeting I'd had when I was given the Palm Springs assignment. "I was re-inked recently . . . but it was routine." Routine. Normal. Nothing like what he was suggesting.
"Maybe." He tilted his head and gave me another piercing look. "You do anything bad before that, love?"
Like helping a dhampir fugitive? "Depends on your definition of bad."
Both of them laughed. Marcus's laugh was loud and rollicking and actually pretty infectious - but the situation was far too dire for me to join in.
"They may have reinforced your group loyalty then," he said, still chuckling. "But it either wasn't very strong or else you fought through it - otherwise you wouldn't be here." He glanced over at Sabrina. "What do you think?"
Sabrina studied me with a critical eye. I still had a hard time believing her role in all of this. "I think she'd be a good addition. And since she's still in, she could help us with that . . . other matter."
"I think so too," he said.
I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't like being discussed as though I weren't there. "A good addition to what?"
"Our group." To Sabrina, he said, "We really need a name for it, you know." She snorted, and he returned his attention to me. "We're a mix. Some are former Warriors or double agents like Sabrina. Some are ex-Alchemists."
"And what do you do?" I gestured around us. "This doesn't exactly look like a high-tech base of operation for some covert team."
"Look at you. Pretty and funny," he said, looking delighted. "We do what you do - or what you want to do. We like the Moroi. We want to help them - on our own terms. The Alchemists theoretically want to help them too, but we all know that's based on a core of fear and dislike - not to mention a strict control of its members. So, we work in secret, seeing as the Alchemists aren't fans of those who break from the fold. They really aren't fans of me, which is why I end up in places like this."
"We keep an eye on the Warriors too," said Sabrina. She scowled. "I hate being around those nuts, having to play along with them. They claim they only want to destroy the Strigoi - but, well, the things I've heard them say against the Moroi too . . ."
I thought back to one of my more disturbing memories of the Warrior arena. I'd heard one of them make a mysterious comment about how someday, they'd deal with the Moroi too.
"But what do you guys actually do?" Talking about rebellions and covert operations was one thing, but actually effecting change was another. I'd visited my sister Carly at her college and seen a number of student groups who wanted to change the world. Most of them sat around drinking coffee, talking a lot and doing little.
Marcus and Sabrina exchanged glances. "I can't quite get into our operations," he said. "Not until I know you're on board with breaking your tattoo."
Breaking your tattoo. There was something sinister - not to mention permanent - about those words, and I suddenly wondered what I was doing here. Who were these people, really? Why was I even humoring them? Then another, almost terrifying thought hit me: Am I doubting them because of the tattoo's control? Is it making me skeptical around anyone who questions the Alchemists? Is Marcus telling the truth?
"I don't really understand that either," I told them. "What it means to 'break' the tattoo. Do you just mean putting ink over it?"
Marcus stood up. "All in good time. Right now, we've got to get out of here. Even if you were discreet, I assume you used Alchemist resources to find me?"
I hesitated. Even if these guys were legitimate and had good intentions toward the Moroi, I certainly wasn't going to reveal my involvement with magic. "Something like that."
"I'm sure you're good, but we can't take the chance. This place has been compromised." He cast a wistful glance around the studio. Honestly, I thought he should be grateful I'd given him a reason to leave.
Sabrina rose as well, her face hardening. "I'll make sure the secondary location is ready."
"You're an angel, as always," he told her.
"Hey, how did you know I was coming?" I asked. "You had time to hide and call her." What I really wanted to know was how he'd seen me through the invisibility spell. I'd felt the magic fill me. I was certain I'd cast the spell correctly, but he'd discovered me. The spell wouldn't work if someone knew to look for you, so maybe he'd happened to glance out the window when I was scaling the fire escape? Worst timing ever.
"Tony warned me." Marcus flashed me another of those dazzling grins. I think he was trying to make me smile back. "Good kid."
Tony? Then I knew. The boy in the parking lot. He'd pretended to help me and then sold me out. He must have spoken to Marcus while I climbed the fire escape. Maybe Marcus only answered to some secret knock. At least I had the comfort of knowing I'd cast the spell correctly. It simply hadn't worked because Marcus had advance warning that some girl was coming after him.
He began packing up his meager belongings into a backpack. "The Catcher in the Rye is a great book, by the way." He winked. "Maybe someday we'll have a literary discussion."