The Indigo Spell b-3

by Richelle Mead

  Our turn came, and the three of us got into the back of a limo. “Now we just have to get through the reception,” said Ian as the driver shut our door. “At least we’ve got our own car.”

  Suddenly, the door opened, and Abe slid in beside me. “Room for one more?” He beamed at Stanton and me. “So nice to see you lovely ladies again. And you must be Ian. A pleasure.” Abe extended his hand. At first, it looked as though Ian wouldn’t shake it, but a sharp look from Stanton dictated otherwise. Afterward, Ian kept looking at his hand as though he expected it to start smoking.

  The drive only took about five minutes, but I could tell from the other Alchemists’ faces that it felt like five hours for them.

  “I think it’s wonderful that you three were invited,” said Abe, perfectly at ease. “Considering how much we work together, we should have more of these pleasant interactions, don’t you think? Perhaps you’ll invite us to one of your weddings someday.” He winked at me. “I’m sure you have young men lining up for you.”

  Even Stanton couldn’t keep a straight face. The look of horror in her expression said there were few things more profane than a vampire coming to a human wedding. She looked visibly relieved when we reached the hotel, but we weren’t free of Abe yet. Some thoughtful person—probably Colleen—had put us at his table, probably thinking it would be nice to be seated with a Moroi we knew. Abe seemed to take great delight in the awkwardness his presence provided, but I had to admit, it was kind of refreshing to have someone who openly acknowledged the strained relations between us rather than pretending everything was okay.

  “There’s no blood in that,” Abe told us when dinner was served. The three of us were hesitating over cutting into our chicken marsala, even me. “The only blood is in the drinks, and you have to actually ask for those at the bar. No one’s going to sneak you something, and the feeders are being kept in another room.”

  Ian and Stanton still looked unconvinced. I decided I would be the brave one and began eating without any more hesitation. Maybe vampires were unnatural creatures, but they certainly had excellent taste in caterers. A moment later, the other Alchemists joined me, and even they had to admit the food was pretty good.

  When the plates were cleared, Ian bravely left for the bathroom, giving Stanton a brief opportunity to lean toward me for a hushed status report. “Everything was okay when you left?” Strained relationship or not, our mission to keep the Moroi stable hadn’t changed.

  “Fine,” I said. “It’s all quiet back there. No sign of trouble.” She didn’t need to know about my own interpersonal drama. Keeping my tone casual, I asked, “Any news about the Warriors? Or Marcus Finch?”

  Stanton shook her head. “None. But I’ll certainly let you know if we uncover anything.”

  I answered with a polite smile, seriously doubting her words. I hadn’t always liked my Alchemist missions, but I’d spent most of my life following orders without question because I believed my superiors knew what was best and were acting for the greater good. Recent events now made me wonder about that. In thwarting some crazed vampire hunters who called themselves the Warriors of Light, Stanton had withheld information from me, citing that we were on a need-to-know basis. She had brushed it off, praising me for being a good Alchemist who understood such policy, but the incident had made me seethe with anger. I didn’t want to be anyone’s pawn. I could accept that fighting for a greater cause meant tough decisions, but I refused to be used or endangered because of “important” lies. I’d given my life over to the Alchemists, always believing what they did and told me was right. I’d thought I was important, that they would always look out for me. Now I didn’t know.

  And yet . . . what could I do? I was sworn and sealed to the Alchemists. Whether I liked what they’d done to me or not, there was no way out, no way to question them. . . .

  At least, I’d thought that until I learned about Marcus Finch.

  I’d only found about him recently, after discovering he’d once crossed the Warriors of Light by helping a Moroi named Clarence. Although the Warriors usually only went after Strigoi, a rebel group had once decided to target Clarence. Marcus had stepped up and defended Clarence against the Warriors, convincing them to leave him alone. I’d almost believed Clarence was making up the story until I saw a picture of Marcus.

  And that was where things got really weird. Marcus seemed to have also crossed the Alchemists. In fact, Clarence and one of the Warriors had hinted that Marcus had at one time been an Alchemist—but was no longer. I hadn’t believed it until I saw his picture. He didn’t have a golden lily—but a large tribal-looking tattoo done in blue ink that was large enough to cover the golden one, if you were trying to hide it.

  Seeing that was life changing. I’d had no idea it was possible to tattoo over something so powerful. I certainly hadn’t thought anyone could leave the Alchemists or that anyone would even want to, not with the way our purpose was drilled into us practically from birth. How could someone consider abandoning our missions? How could someone go rogue and just walk away from the Alchemists? What had happened that would make him want to do that? Had he had experiences similar to mine?

  And would they let him go?

  When I’d asked about him, Stanton claimed the Alchemists had no knowledge of Marcus, but I knew that was a lie. She didn’t know I had his picture. His blue tattoo was big enough to cover a lily, and I’d seen metallic hints of one underneath, proving he had indeed once been one of us. And if he’d had the Alchemist mark, then they most certainly knew about him. They were covering him up, and that just intrigued me further. In fact, I was a little obsessed with him. Some instinct told me he was the key to my problems, that he could help me uncover the secrets and lies the Alchemists were telling me. Unfortunately, I had no clue how to find him.

  “It’s important no one here knows what you’re doing, so remember to be discreet,” Stanton added, like I needed to be reminded. A small crease appeared between her eyebrows. “I was particularly worried about that Ivashkov boy coming to this wedding. We can’t let anyone know you two have more than a passing acquaintance. Little things like that could compromise our mission.”

  “Oh, no,” I said quickly. “You don’t need to worry about Adrian. He understands how important our work is. He’d never do anything to compromise it.”

  Ian returned, and our discussion ended there. Dinner soon gave way to dancing. With the atmosphere more relaxed, a number of Moroi came over to introduce themselves to us. I felt nearly as popular as the bride and groom. Ian shook so many hands that he eventually became immune to it. And as uncomfortable as it was for my companions, I could tell this event was actually accomplishing its goal of smoothing relations between Alchemists and Moroi. Stanton and Ian were by no means ready to be best friends with any of them, but it was clear they were pleasantly surprised at how friendly and benign most of the guests seemed.

  “I’m glad we got this chance to be together,” Ian told me during a lull in our public relations. “It’s so hard with our jobs, you know? I’m in St. Louis now, in the facility archives. Where do they have you?”

  Secrecy was key in Jill’s protection. “I’m in the field, but I can’t say where. You know how it is.”

  “Right, right. But you know, if you ever wanted to visit . . . I’d show you around.”

  His desperation was almost cute. “Like for a vacation?”

  “Well, yeah. Er, no.” He knew as well as I did that Alchemists didn’t get vacations easily. “But, I mean, they’re doing all the holiday services, you know. If you decide to come to one, well, let me know.”

  Alchemist priests always conducted special services around Christmas in our main facilities. Some Alchemist families made a point of going to them every year. I hadn’t been to any in a while, not with the way my missions kept jumping around.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  There was a long pause, and his next words came haltingly. “I’d ask you to dance, you know. Except it w
ouldn’t be right in this kind of unholy setting.”

  I gave him a stiff smile. “Of course. That, and we’re here on business. We’ve got to focus on building good relationships with them.”

  Ian had started to respond when a familiar voice interrupted us. “Miss Sage?”

  We looked up and found Adrian standing above us, dashing in his shades of blue. His face was the picture of perfect politeness and restraint, meaning something disastrous was probably about to happen.

  “It’s so nice to see you again,” he said. He spoke as though it had been a while, and I nodded in agreement. As I’d assured Stanton, Adrian knew too much familiarity between us might create a trail back to Jill. “Did I just hear you two talking about building good relationships?”

  I was tongue-tied, so Ian answered. “That’s right. We’re here to make things friendlier between our people.” His voice, however, was most decidedly unfriendly.

  Adrian nodded with all seriousness, like he hadn’t noticed Ian’s hostility. “I think it’s a great idea. And I thought of something that would be an excellent gesture of our future together.” Adrian’s expression was innocent, but there was a mischievous sparkle in his eye that I knew all too well. He held out his hand to me. “Would you like to dance?”

  CHAPTER 4

  I FROZE. I didn’t trust myself to respond.

  What was Adrian thinking? Putting aside all the drama between us, it was absolutely unforgivable to ask this here, in front of other Moroi and Alchemists. Maybe in Palm Springs, where things were a little more casual with my friends, it might not be that crazy a request. But here? He risked exposing that we knew each other, which in turn risked Jill. Almost as bad, it could be a tip-off of his feelings for me. Even if I insisted that I had no matching feelings, the fact that things had progressed this far could get me in serious trouble with the Alchemists.

  As all these thoughts raced through my mind, a more concerning one suddenly popped up. A good Alchemist shouldn’t be worried about any of those things. A good Alchemist would have simply been horrified at the immediate problem: dancing with a Moroi. Touching a vampire. Realizing this, I quickly mustered an outraged expression, hoping I looked convincing.

  Fortunately, everyone else was too shocked to pay much attention to me. Good relations only went so far. Stanton and Ian wore legitimate looks of disgust. The Moroi nearby, while not appalled, were astonished at the breach of etiquette. And yet . . . I also saw a couple exchange looks that said they weren’t entirely surprised Adrian Ivashkov would suggest something so outrageous. This was an attitude I’d seen a lot with him. People often shrugged off his behavior with, “Well, that’s Adrian.”

  Ian found his voice first. “She . . . no! She absolutely can’t!”

  “Why not?” Adrian glanced between all our faces, his expression still sunny and unassuming. “We are all friends, right?”

  Abe, who was rarely shocked by anything, managed to shake off some of his surprise. “I’m sure it’s not that big a deal.” His tone was uncertain. He knew that Adrian wasn’t a total stranger to me but undoubtedly assumed I had the usual Alchemist hang-ups. As tonight had demonstrated, most Alchemists still struggled with handshakes.

  Stanton seemed to be waging a mental war. I knew she thought it was an outlandish request . . . yet she was still conscious of the need to keep things pleasant. She swallowed. “Perhaps . . . perhaps it would be a nice gesture.” She shot me a sympathetic look that seemed to say, Sometimes you have to take one for the team.

  Ian jerked his head toward her. “Are you crazy?”

  “Mr. Jansen,” she snapped, conveying a stern warning in just his name.

  All eyes turned toward me as everyone realized that ultimately, it was my decision. At this point, I didn’t know if I should be shocked or scared—and the thought of dancing with Adrian made me feel both. I met Stanton’s eyes again and slowly gave a nod. “Sure. Okay. Good relations, right?”

  Ian’s face turned bright red, but another sharp look from Stanton kept him silent. As Adrian led me to the dance floor, I heard a few whispered comments from curious Moroi mentioning “that poor Alchemist girl” and “there’s no predicting what he does sometimes.”

  Adrian put his arm around my waist, perfectly proper and distant. I tried not to think about the last time I’d been in his arms. Even with appropriate spacing between us, our hands were still clasped, our stances still intimate. I was hyperaware of every single place his fingers rested on my body. His touch was light and delicate but seemed to carry an extraordinary heat and intensity.

  “What were you thinking?” I demanded once we were moving to the music. I was trying to ignore his hands. “Do you know how much trouble you may have gotten me in?”

  Adrian grinned. “Nah. They all feel bad for you. You’ll achieve martyrdom after dancing with a mean, wicked vampire. Job security with the Alchemists.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to pressure me about . . . you know . . . that stuff. . . .”

  The look of innocence returned. “Have I said a word about that? I just asked you to dance as a political gesture, that’s all.” He paused for impact. “Seems like you’re the one who can’t get ‘that stuff’ off your mind.”

  “Stop turning my words against me! That’s not—no—that’s not right at all.”

  “You should see that Stanton woman watching us,” he remarked with amusement, glancing behind me.

  “Everyone’s watching us,” I grumbled. It wasn’t like the entire room had come to a standstill, but there were certainly a number of curious onlookers, gawking at the unlikely sight of a Moroi and a human—an Alchemist, at that—dancing.

  He nodded and swept me into a turn. He was a good dancer, which wasn’t entirely a surprise. Adrian might be brash and impertinent, but he knew how to move. Maybe dance lessons had been part of growing up in an elite tier of Moroi society. Or maybe he was just naturally skilled at using his body. That kiss had certainly show a fair amount of talent. . . .

  Ugh. Adrian was right. I was the one who couldn’t get over “that stuff.”

  Unaware of my thoughts, he glanced over at Stanton again. “She’s got the look of a general who just sent her army on a suicide mission.”

  “Nice to know she cares,” I said. For a moment, I forgot my dance floor woes as I thought angrily back to Stanton’s “need to know” attitude.

  “I can pull you closer, if you want,” he said. “Just to see how much she cares. I’m always willing to help like that, you know.”

  “You’re a real team player,” I said. “If putting me in danger is for the greater good, then Stanton probably wouldn’t do anything about you moving in on me.”

  Adrian’s self-satisfied smirk faded. “Did she ever come clean about that guy you were trying to find? Martin?”

  “Marcus,” I corrected. I frowned. Her denial still bothered me. “She keeps claiming she doesn’t know him, and I can’t push too hard if I don’t want her to get suspicious.”

  “I thought of a way you might find him,” said Adrian. I would’ve thought he was joking if his face wasn’t so serious.

  “You did?” I asked. The Alchemists had vast information at our disposal, with hands in all sorts of agencies and organizations. I’d been scouring them these last few weeks and found it unlikely that Adrian would have access to something I didn’t.

  “Yup. You’ve got his picture, right? Couldn’t you just do the same spell you did the other night? Locate him that way?”

  I was so surprised, I nearly tripped. Adrian tightened his grip to keep me from falling. I shivered as that small gesture brought us closer. The tension between us kicked up a notch, and I realized that along with our bodies being nearer, so were our lips.

  I had a little difficulty speaking, both because of how it felt to be so close to him and because I was still stunned by what he’d said. “That’s . . . wow . . . that’s not a bad idea. . . .”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m kind of amazed myself.
”

  Really, the circumstances were no different from finding Ms. Terwilliger’s sister. I needed to locate someone I’d never met. I had a picture, which was what the spell required. What was different was that I’d be initiating the spell myself. It was a difficult piece of magic, and I knew Ms. Terwilliger’s coaching had helped me. There was also the moral dilemma of working that type of spell on my own. My conscience had an easier time handling magic when I felt coerced.

  “I couldn’t try until next month,” I said, thinking back to the spell book. “I mean, I have the picture with me, but the spell’s got to be done during a full moon. This is the last night for the current one, and I’d never be able to get the components in time.”

  “What do you need?”

  I told him, and he nodded along, promising he could get them.

  I scoffed. “Where are you going to get anise and hyssop at this time of night? In this town?”

  “This town’s full of quirky boutique shops. There’s some herbal place that sells soaps and perfume made of anything you can imagine. I guarantee they’ve got what you need.”

  “And I guarantee they’re closed.” He swept me into another flourish-filled spin, and I kept up with him perfectly.

  The song was wrapping up. The time had flown by faster than I’d thought. I’d forgotten about the onlookers. I’d even forgotten I was with a vampire. I was simply dancing with Adrian, which felt easy and natural, so long as I didn’t think about our audience.

  His roguish look returned. “Don’t worry about that. I can find the owner and talk her into making an exception.”