"It's potpourri," I said promptly.

"You keep potpourri in your purse?" he asked disbelievingly.

I shrugged. "We keep all sorts of things around. I took out all the acids and chemicals before I came here, though."

He dismissed the potpourri as harmless and tossed it into a pile with other cleared items, like my wallet, hand sanitizer, and a plain wooden bracelet. I noticed then that the pile also included a pair of earrings. They were round gold discs, covered in intricate swirls and tiny gems. They were beautiful - but I'd never seen them before.

I certainly wasn't going to call attention to anything, however, particularly when the woman snatched up my cell phone. "We should destroy this."

"I turned it off," said Trey.

"She might turn it back on. It can be tracked."

"She wouldn't," argued Trey. "Besides, that's a little paranoid, isn't it? No one has that kind of technology in real life."

"You'd be surprised," she said.

He held out his hand. "Give it to me. I'll keep it safe. She's here on good faith." The woman hesitated until Jeff nodded. Trey slipped the phone into his pocket, and I was grateful. There were a lot of saved numbers that would be a pain to replace. Once my purse was deemed safe, I was allowed to put it back together and take it with me.

"Okay," said Blond Hair. "Let's go to the arena."

Arena? I had a hard time picturing what that would entail in a place like this. My vision in the silver plate hadn't shown me much of the building, save that it was single-story and had a ratty, worn look to it. This room seemed to be keeping right along with that theme. If the antiquated brochures were further proof of the Warriors' sense of style, I expected this "arena" to be in someone's garage.

I was wrong.

Whatever the Warriors of Light had lacked in other areas of their operation, they'd sunk it into the arena - or, as I was told its official name was, The Arena of Divine Radiance of Holy Gold. The arena had been built upon a clearing surrounded by several buildings. I wouldn't go so far as to call it a courtyard. It was bigger, and the ground was more of that sandy packed dirt we'd driven in on. This setup was far from polished or high tech, yet as I took it all in, I couldn't help but think of Trey saying the Warriors had come to town this week.

Because for them to have put this together so quickly... well, it was kind of impressive.

And frightening. Two sets of rickety wooden bleachers had been erected on opposite sides of the space. One set held about fifty spectators, mostly men, of varying ages. Their eyes, suspicious and even hostile, were on me as I was led in. I could practically feel their gazes boring into my tattoo. Did they all know about the Alchemists and our history? They were all dressed in ordinary clothing, but here and there, I caught glimmers of gold. Many of them wore some kind of ornament - a pin, an earring, etc. - with either an ancient or modern sun symbol.

The other bleachers were nearly empty. Three men - older, closer to my dad's age - sat side by side. They were dressed in yellow robes covered in golden embroidery that glittered in the orange light of the setting sun. Golden helmets covered their heads and were engraved with the old sun symbol, the circle with the dot. They watched me as well, and I kept my head high, hoping I could hide the shaking of my hands. I couldn't present a convincing case for Sonya if I seemed intimidated.

Around the arena, draped on poles, were banners of all shapes and sizes. They were made of rich, heavy fabric that reminded me of medieval tapestries. Obviously, these weren't that old, but they nonetheless gave the place a luxurious and ceremonial feel. The banners'

designs varied considerably. Some really did look straight out of history, showing stylized knights fighting against vampires. Looking at those gave me chills. I really had stepped back in time, into the fold of a group with a history as old as the Alchemists'. Other banners were more abstract, portraying the ancient alchemical symbols. Still others looked modern, depicting the sun on Trey's back. I wondered if that newer sun interpretation was meant to appeal to today's youth.

All the while, I kept thinking, less than a week. They put all this together in less than a week. They travel around with all of this, ready to put it up at a moment's notice in order to conduct these competitions or executions. Maybe they are primitive, but that doesn't make them any less dangerous.

Although the large crowd of spectators had a rough-and-tumble look to them, like some sort of backwoods militia, it was a relief that they didn't appear to be armed. Only my escort was. A dozen guns were still too many for my tastes, but I'd take what I could get - and hope that they mostly kept the guns for show. We reached the bottom of the empty stands, and Trey came to stand beside me.

"This is the high council of the Warriors of Light," said Trey. He pointed to each of them in turn. "Master Jameson, Master Angeletti, and Master Ortega. This is Sydney Sage."

"You are very welcome here, little sister," said Master Angeletti in a grave voice. He had a long and messy beard. "The time for the healing of our two groups is long overdue. We will be much stronger once we put aside our differences and unite as one." I gave him the politest smile I could and decided not to point out the Alchemists were unlikely to welcome gun-toting zealots into our ranks. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sirs. Thank you for allowing me to come. I'd like to talk to you about - " Master Jameson held up a hand to stop me. His eyes looked too small for his face. "All in good time. First, we'd like to show you just how diligently we train our youth to fight in the great crusade. Just as you encourage excellence and discipline in the mind, so too do we encourage it in the body."

Through some unspoken cue, the door we'd just come through opened. A familiar face walked out to the center of the arena: Chris, Trey's cousin. He was wearing workout pants and no shirt, giving a clear view of the radiating sun tattooed on his back. He had a ferocious look on his face and came to stand in the clearing's center.

"I believe you've met Chris Juarez," said Master Jameson. "He's one of the finalists in this last round of combat. The other, of course, you also know. Quite the irony that cousins should be facing off, but also fitting since both failed in the initial attack on the fiend." I turned to Trey, my jaw dropping. "You? You're one of the... contenders to kill Sonya?" I could barely get the words out. I turned back to the council in alarm. "I was told I'd have a chance to plead Sonya's case."

"You will," said Master Ortega, in a tone that implied it would be a wasted effort. "But first, we must determine our champion. Contenders, take your places." I noticed now that Trey was also in sweatpants, looking as though he could be going off to football practice. He stripped off his shirt as well and, for lack of anything else to do with it, handed it to me. I took it and kept staring at him, still unable to believe what was happening.