The Inner Circle (Return of the Ancients Book 3) by Carmen Caine, Madison Adler Page A

at the next words of “Inner Circle” and glanced away.
    Rafael kept sidetracking me. It was hard to play the spy when my emotions were wrapped up at such a deep level. Grimly, I pinched myself and promised that I would be more focused the next time I saw him. “Ask about the tulpa” I wrote in tiny letters in the update column.
    That brought my attention back to the evil tulpa.
    I frowned.
    I was on my own here. But then, being a human, maybe I really was the best person for the job. I drummed my fingers on the page, wondering how to get it back from Rafael and destroy it.
    Thankful that Al had given me a phone with a data plan, I dove under the covers and began to search the web.
    I didn’t learn much.
    There weren’t any eHow articles describing how to destroy evil tulpas.
    I finally gave up and lay in bed, wondering if it would be possible to create a good one, as kind of an agent, to destroy the bad one. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Not really sure how to intentionally create a tulpa, I just settled for imagining something beautiful and before I knew it, I’d started to drift.
    I woke to Grace giving my shoulder a friendly shake.
    It was morning. A weak ray of sunlight streamed in through my bedroom window.
    “Ellison’s here to take you to work,” she said. “I’ll keep him entertained while you get ready. Hurry up!”
    I was ready in five minutes, shower and all. Ellison shot me a mile-wide grin when I dashed into the kitchen, and then we were flying to work in his Volkswagen. The thing I liked most about Ellison was the fact that I could totally be myself around him. I didn’t have to chit-chat if I didn’t feel like it. Neither of us said a word the entire trip.
    And when I walked into the coffee shop, I found Jareth already there, dressed in a maroon shirt, black leather pants, and chains. He was lounging in an overstuffed chair with his boot propped up on Samantha’s coffee table.
    Samantha herself was standing over him with a bright red scarf draped over a trench coat. She’d apparently just come in.
    “I’m not responsible for the fact that people around me feel a sense of inferiority.” Jareth was saying. “I can’t help it if I’m perfect, even though it does get a bit tiresome.”
    “I’m guessing you haven’t been diagnosed yet,” Samantha responded, reaching down to whack his boot off her table.
    Jareth gave her a wide grin and then spying me, lifted his hand in a cheerful wave.
    The coffee shop was a madhouse that morning, filled with teenage girls snapping pictures and sending Jareth doe-eyed looks. They had all frowned when I walked in.
    But Samantha was pleased to see me. With a crisp nod of greeting, she pointed at Jareth. “He’s all yours, Sydney. Make him behave.” And with that, she sailed into the backroom.
    Jareth shot me another cocky grin.
    I hesitated. He was clearly in a good mood. But I knew I had to show him the video. And now, before he disappeared again.
    Approaching him, I thrust my phone into his hands.
    “What’s this—” he began, but then his brows rose to his hairline and a horrified expression crossed his face as his eyes locked onto the tiny screen.
    He watched it several times. I could hear Melody’s voice squeaking in the earphones dangling from the phone.  He glanced up at me, looking sick.
    “It’s ok,” I said in a feeble attempt to cheer him up. “We’ll find out what she was doing and—”
    But he cut me off with a chopping motion and abruptly stood up. “It’s far from ok , Sydney.”
    “Wait,” I said, holding onto his arm. “We aren’t going to get anywhere like this. You have to quit walking off. We’ve got to get organized—”
    “I am ,” he said darkly. Shaking me off, he pushed his way through the throng of girls and left the coffee shop.
    “I’m really getting tired of this,” I muttered, picking up my phone where he’d tossed it. It buzzed in my hands.
    Glancing down, I saw the words,