Bloodlines (Bloodlines, #1)(13)

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I resented my father, sure, but he was still my father. A lot of the hard choices he made were because of the Alchemists, and I knew that no matter how stifled I felt sometimes, the Alchemists’ job was important. Humans had to be protected from the existence of vampires. Knowing vampires existed would create a panic. Worse, it could drive some weak-willed humans into becoming slaves to the Strigoi in exchange for immortality and the eventual corruption of their souls. It happened more often than we liked to admit.

“It’s fine, Mom,” I said soothingly. “I’m fine. I’m not in trouble anymore, and I’m in the U.S. even.” Actually, I wasn’t sure if the “trouble” part was really true, but I thought the latter would soothe her. Stanton had told me to keep our location in Palm Springs secret, but giving up that we were domestic wouldn’t hurt too much and might make my mom think I had an easier job ahead of me than I likely did. She and I talked a little bit more before hanging up, and she told me she’d heard from my sister Carly. All was well with her at college, which I was relieved to hear. I wanted desperately to find out about Zoe as well but resisted asking to talk to her. I was afraid that if she got on the phone, I’d find out she was still mad at me. Or, worse, that she wouldn’t speak to me at all.

I went to bed feeling melancholy, wishing I could have poured out all my fears and insecurities to my mom. Wasn’t that what normal mothers and daughters did? I knew she would’ve welcomed it. I was the one who had trouble letting myself go, too wrapped up in Alchemist secrets to be a normal teenager.

After a long sleep, and with the morning sunlight streaming through my window, I felt a little better. I had a job to do, and having purpose shifted me out of feeling sorry for myself. I remembered that I was doing this for Zoe, for Moroi and humans alike. It allowed me to center myself and push my insecurities aside—at least, for now.

I picked up Keith around noon and drove us outside of the city to meet Jill and the recluse Moroi who’d be helping us. Keith had a lot to say about the guy, whose name was Clarence Donahue. Clarence had lived in Palm Springs for three years, ever since the death of his niece in Los Angeles, which had apparently had quite a traumatic effect on the man. Keith had met him a couple of times on past jobs and kept making jokes about Clarence’s tenuous grip on sanity.

“He’s a few pints short of a blood bank, you know?” Keith said, chuckling to himself. I bet he’d been waiting days to use that line.

The jokes were in poor taste—and stupid to boot—but as we got closer and closer to Clarence’s home, Keith eventually became very quiet and nervous. Something occurred to me.

“How many Moroi have you met?” I asked as we pulled off the main road and turned into a long and winding driveway. The house was straight out of a Gothic movie, boxy and made of gray bricks that were completely at odds with most of the Palm Springs architecture we’d scene. The only reminder that we were in southern California was the ubiquitous palm trees surrounding the house. It was a weird juxtaposition.

“Enough,” said Keith evasively. “I can handle being around them.”

The confidence in his tone sounded forced. I realized that despite his brashness about this job, his comments on the Moroi and dhampir races, and his judgment of my actions, Keith was actually very, very uncomfortable with the idea of being around non-humans. It was understandable. Most Alchemists were. A large part of our job didn’t even involve interacting with the vampiric world—it was the human world that needed tending. Records had to be covered up, witnesses bribed. The majority of Alchemists had very little contact with our subjects, meaning most Alchemists’ knowledge came from the stories and teachings passed down through the families. Keith had said he’d met Clarence but made no mention of spending time with other Moroi or dhampirs—certainly not a group, like we were about to face.

I was no more excited to hang around vampires than he was, but I realized it didn’t scare me nearly as much as it once would have. Rose and her companions had given me a tough skin. I’d even been to the Moroi Royal Court, a place few Alchemists had ever visited. If I’d walked away from the heart of their civilization intact, I was certain I could handle whatever was inside this house. Admittedly, it would’ve been a little easier if Clarence’s house didn’t look so much like a creepy haunted manor from a horror movie.

We walked up to the door, presenting a united front in our stylish, formal Alchemist attire. Whatever his faults, Keith cleaned up well. He wore khaki pants with a white button-up shirt and navy silk tie. The shirt had short sleeves, though I doubted that was helping much in the heat. It was early September, and the temperature had been pushing ninety when I left my hotel. I was equally hot in a brown skirt, tights, and a cap-sleeved blouse scattered with tan flowers.

Belatedly, I realized we kind of matched.

Keith lifted his hand to knock at the door, but it opened before he could do anything. I flinched, a bit unnerved despite the assurances I’d just given myself.

The guy who opened the door looked just as surprised to see us. He held a cigarette pack in one hand and appeared as though he’d been heading outside to smoke. He paused and gave us a once-over.

“So. Are you guys here to convert me or sell me siding?”

The disarming comment was enough to help me shake off my anxiety. The speaker was a Moroi guy, a little older than me, with dark brown hair that had undoubtedly been painstakingly styled to look messy. Unlike Keith’s ridiculously over-gelled attempts, this guy had actually done it in a way that looked good. Like all Moroi, he was pale and had a tall, lean build. Emerald green eyes studied us from a face that could have been sculpted by one of the classical artists I so admired. Shocked, I dismissed the comparison as soon as it popped into my head. This was a vampire, after all. It was ridiculous to admire him the way I would some hot human guy.