“I really will mention it to the Alchemists,” I said. “Maybe they’ll want to help.” I didn’t think I’d get in too much trouble for the first vial. The Alchemists endorsed the initial experiments after all, and I’d probably get points for standing up to vampire peer pressure for the other sample.

He shrugged. “If they do, great. If not, it’s not your responsibility.”

“Well, thanks for gallantly coming to my defense again,” I teased. “Maybe you’d be more into Wolfe’s training if you got to protect someone else instead of yourself?”

The earlier smile returned. “I just don’t like seeing people bullied, that’s all.”

“But you should come back to Wolfe with me,” I urged. “You need a chance to try to get at me.”

Like that, he was serious again. He looked away. “I don’t know, Sage. We’ll see. For now, we’ll just focus on the driving—when you can get away from your boyfriend, of course.”

I left shortly after that, still confused about his weird behavior. Was that some of spirit’s crazy effects on the mind? One minute, he was brave and defensive. The next, he was down and obstinate. Maybe there was a pattern or some type of reasoning behind it all, but it was beyond my analytical abilities.

Back at Amberwood, I immediately headed for the library to get a book for my English class. Ms. Terwilliger had lightened up on my usual work so that I could “devote more time” to crafting her spells. Since her independent study—which was supposed to be my easy elective—took up more time than my other classes, it was refreshing to focus on something else for a change. As I was leaving the British Lit section, I caught sight of Jill and Eddie studying together at a table. That wasn’t weird, exactly. What was weird was that Micah wasn’t with them.

“Hey, guys,” I said, slipping into a seat. “Hard at work?”

“Do you know how weird it is to be repeating my senior year?” asked Eddie. “I can’t even blow it off either. I have to get decent grades to stay here.”

I grinned. “Hey, all knowledge is worth having.”

He tapped the papers in front of him. “Yeah? You got any knowledge on the first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize in fiction?”

“Edith Wharton,” I said automatically. He scrawled something onto his paper, and I turned to Jill. “How are things with you? Where’s Micah?”

Jill had her chin propped in her hand and was gazing at me with the weirdest look. It was almost… dreamy. It took her a few moments to snap out of her daze and respond. The dreamy look became embarrassed and then dismayed. She glanced down at her book.

“Sorry. I was just thinking how good you look in taupe. What did you ask?”

“Micah?” I prompted.

“Oh. Right. He’s got… stuff to do.”

I was pretty sure that was the shortest explanation she’d ever given me. I tried to remember what I’d last heard on their status. “You guys patched things up, right?”