Bloodlines b-1

by Richelle Mead

  Jill’s face wore the grave look it had had since Lee’s death—a look she would carry for a while, I suspected—but the ghost of a smile flickered over her lips. “I think Micah has the makings of a real fashion designer. Maybe I’ll walk in his show one day.”

  I shook my head, hiding my own smile. “No modeling of any kind, not for a while.” After the show, Lia and other designers had gotten in touch, all wanting to work with Jill again. We’d had to refuse in order to protect her identity here, but it had made Jill sad to have to do it.

  Jill nodded. “I know, I know.” She stood up with Micah. “I’ll see you back in our room later, Sydney. I’d like to talk some more.”

  I nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Eddie and I watched them hurry off. I sighed.

  “That’s going to be a problem,” I told him.

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “But she knows what she can and can’t do with him. She’s smart. She’ll be responsible.”

  “But he doesn’t know,” I said. “I feel like Micah’s fallen for her too much already.” I eyed Eddie carefully. “Among other people.”

  Eddie was still watching Micah and Jill, so it took him a moment to pick up on my meaning. He jerked his gaze back to me. “Huh?”

  “Eddie, I’m not going to claim to be any expert in romance, but even I can tell that you’re crazy about Jill.”

  He promptly looked away, though his flush betrayed him. “That’s not true.”

  “I’ve seen it all along, but it wasn’t until that night at Keith’s that I really understood what I was seeing. I saw how you looked at her. I know how you feel about her. So, what I want to know is: how come we have to keep worrying about Micah at all? Why aren’t you just asking her out and saving us all a lot of trouble?”

  “Because she’s my sister,” he said wryly.

  “Eddie! I’m serious.”

  He made a face, took a deep breath, and then turned back toward me. “Because she can do better than me. You want to talk about social rules? Well, where we come from, Moroi and dhampirs don’t have serious relationships.”

  “Yeah, but that’s like a class thing,” I said. “It’s not quite the same as humans and vampires.”

  “Maybe not, but with her, it might as well be. She’s not just any Moroi. She’s royal. A princess. And you’ve seen how she is! Smart and strong and beautiful. She’s destined for great things, and one of them isn’t being involved with a controversial guardian like me. Her bloodline’s regal. Hell, I don’t even know who my dad is. Dating her is not even possible. My job is to protect her. To keep her safe. That’s where all my attention needs to be.”

  “And so you think she deserves being with a human instead?” I asked incredulously. “Dancing the line of a taboo upheld by both our races?”

  “It’s not ideal,” he admitted. “But she can still have a fun social life and—”

  “What if it was another guy?” I interrupted. “What if some other human asked her out, and they simply went on a casual date? Would you be okay with that?”

  He didn’t answer, and I knew my hunch was correct.

  “This is about more than you not feeling worthy of Jill,” I said. “This is about Micah too, isn’t it? About how he reminds you of Mason.”

  Eddie blanched. “How do you know about that?”

  “Adrian told me.”

  “Damn him,” said Eddie. “Why can’t he be as oblivious as he pretends?”

  I smiled at that. “You don’t owe Micah anything. You certainly don’t owe him Jill. He’s not Mason, no matter how much they look alike.”

  “It’s more than looks,” said Eddie, growing pensive. “It’s the way they act too. Micah’s the same—outgoing, optimistic, excited. That’s how Mason was. There are too few people like that in the world: people who are genuinely good. Mason was taken away from the world too soon. I won’t let that happen to Micah.”

  “Micah’s not in danger,” I said gently.

  “But he deserves good things. And even if he’s human, he’s still one of the best matches I know of for Jill. They deserve each other. They both deserve good things.”

  “And so, you’re going to let yourself suffer as a result? Because you’re so in love with Jill and convinced that she deserves some prince that you aren’t? And because you feel it’s your duty to support all the Masons in the world?” I shook my head. “Eddie, that’s crazy. Even you have to see that.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Right? It’s the masochistic thing to do! You’re encouraging the girl you want to be with one of your best friends.”

  “I want her to be happy. It’s worth sacrificing myself.”

  “It makes no sense.”

  Eddie gave me a small smile and a gentle pat on the arm before turning toward an approaching shuttle bus. “Remember when you said you were no expert in romance? Well, you were right.”

  CHAPTER 27

  I THINK ADRIAN would have agreed to anything to get his own place. He didn’t waste any time in moving his few possessions over to Keith’s old apartment, much to Clarence’s dismay. I had to admit, I felt kind of bad for the old man. He’d grown fond of Adrian, and losing him right after Lee was especially tough. Clarence still opened his home and feeder to our group but refused to believe anything we told him about Lee and Strigoi. Even once he accepted Lee was dead, Clarence continued blaming vampire hunters.

  Shortly after his move, I went to check on Adrian. Word had come to us that the “research party” from the Moroi was due to arrive in town that day, and we’d decided to meet with them first before bringing in Jill and Eddie. Like before, Abe was apparently escorting the newcomers, who included Sonya and Jill’s new roommate. I had the impression there might be others with them but hadn’t heard the details yet.

  “Whoa,” I said when Adrian let me into his apartment.

  He’d only been there a couple days, but the transformation was startling. With the exception of the TV, none of the original furniture remained. It was all different, and even the apartment’s layout had changed. The decorating scheme was new as well, and the scent of fresh paint hung heavy in the air.

  “Yellow, huh?” I asked, staring at the living room walls.

  “It’s called ‘Goldenrod,’” he corrected. “And it’s supposed to be cheerful and calming.”

  I started to point out that those two traits didn’t seem like they’d go together but then decided against it. The color, slightly obnoxious though it was, completely transformed the living room. Between that and the blinds that had replaced Keith’s heavy drapes, the room was now filled with color and light that went a long way to obscure the memory of the battle. I shuddered, recalling it. Even if the apartment hadn’t been needed to buy Adrian’s help, I wasn’t sure I could’ve accepted it and stayed here. The memory of Lee’s death—and the two Strigoi women’s—was too strong.

  “How did you afford new furniture?” I asked. The Alchemists had given him the place, but there was no other stipend involved.

  “I sold the old stuff,” Adrian said, seeming very pleased by this. “That recliner . . .” He faltered, a troubled look briefly crossing his features. I wondered if he too could imagine Lee’s life bleeding away in that chair. “That recliner was worth a lot. It was appallingly overpriced, even by my standards. But I got enough for it to replace the rest. It’s used, but what choice did I have?”

  “It’s nice,” I said, running my hand along an overstuffed plaid sofa. It looked ghastly with the walls but appeared to be in good shape. Plus, much like the brightness of the yellow, the clashing furniture helped diminish the memories of what had happened. “You must have done some savvy shopping. I’m guessing you don’t buy a lot of used stuff.”

  “Try never,” he said. “You have no idea the things I’ve had to lower myself to.” His pleased smile dimmed as he regarded me carefully. “How are you holding up?”

  I shrugged. “Fine. Why wo
uldn’t I be? What happened to me isn’t nearly as bad as what Jill went through.”

  He crossed his arms. “I don’t know. Jill didn’t watch a guy die in front of her. And let’s not forget that same guy wanted to kill you only moments before in order to rise again from the dead.”

  Those were things that had definitely been on my mind a lot in the last week, things that were going to take a while to get over. Sometimes, I didn’t feel anything at all. Other times, the reality of what had happened descended on me so swiftly and heavily that I couldn’t breathe. Strigoi nightmares had replaced the ones of re-education centers.

  “I’m actually better with it than you might think,” I said slowly, gazing off at nothing particular. “Like, it’s terrible about Lee and what he did, but I feel I can get over it in time. Do you know what I keep thinking about the most, though?”

  “What?” asked Adrian gently.

  The words seemed to come forth without my control. I hadn’t expected to say them to anyone, certainly not to him.

  “Lee telling me I was wasting my life and staying aloof from people. And then, during that last meeting with Keith, he told me that I was naive, that I didn’t understand the world. And it’s true to a certain extent. I mean, not what he said about you guys being evil . . . but well, I was naive. I should’ve been more careful with Jill. I believed the best of Lee when I should’ve been more wary. I’m not a fighter like Eddie, but I am an observer of the world . . . or so I like to think. But I failed. I’m no good with people.”

  “Sage, your first mistake in all of this is listening to anything Keith Darnell says. The guy’s an idiot, an asshole, and a dozen other words that aren’t suitable for a lady like yourself.”

  “See?” I said. “You just admitted it, that I’m some kind of untouchable, pure soul.”

  “I never said any such thing,” he countered. “My point is that you’re leagues above Keith, and what happened with Lee was dumb, ridiculous bad luck. And remember, none of us saw it coming either. You weren’t alone. It casts no reflection on you. Or . . .” His eyebrows rose. “Maybe it does. Didn’t you say that Lee considered killing Keith for Alchemist blood?”

  “Yeah . . . but Keith left too soon.”

  “Well, there you go. Even a psychopath recognized your worth enough to want to kill someone else first.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  Adrian shrugged. “My earlier point remains. You’re a solid person, Sage. You’re easy on the eyes, if a little skinny, and your ability to memorize useless information is going to totally hook in some guy. Put Keith and Lee out of your head because they have nothing to do with your future.”

  “Skinny?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t blushing. I also hoped if I sounded outraged enough, he wouldn’t notice how much the other comment had disarmed me. Easy on the eyes. Not exactly the same as being told I was hotness incarnate or drop-dead gorgeous. But after a lifetime of having my appearance judged as “acceptable,” it was a heady compliment—especially coming from him.

  “I just tell it like it is.”

  I almost laughed. “Yes. Yes, you do. Now tell me about a different subject, please. I’m tired of this one.”

  “Sure thing.” Adrian infuriated me sometimes, but I had to admit, I loved his short attention span. It made dodging uncomfortable topics so much easier. Or so I thought. “Do you smell that?”

  An image of the bodies flashed into my head, and for a moment, all I could think he meant was the smell of decay. Then I sniffed more deeply. “I smell the paint, and . . . wait . . . is that pine?”

  He looked impressed. “Damn straight. Pine-scented cleaner. As in, I cleaned.” He gestured to the kitchen dramatically. “With these hands, these hands that don’t do manual labor.”

  I stared off into the kitchen. “What did you use it on? The cupboards?”

  “The cupboards are fine. I cleaned the floor and the counter.” I must have looked more puzzled than amazed because he added, “I even got down on my knees.”

  “You used pine cleaner on the floor and counters?” I asked. The floor was ceramic tile; the counters were granite.

  Adrian frowned. “Yeah, so?”

  He seemed so proud to have actually scrubbed something for once in his life that I couldn’t bring myself to tell him pine cleaner was generally only used on wood. I gave him an encouraging smile. “Well, it looks great. I need you to come over and clean my new dorm room now. It’s covered in dust.”

  “No way, Sage. My own housecleaning’s bad enough.”

  “But is it worth it? If you’d stayed at Clarence’s, you had a live-in cook and cleaner.”

  “It’s definitely worth it. I’ve never really, truly had my own place. I kind of did at Court . . . but it might as well have been an over-glorified dorm room. This? This is great. Even with the housecleaning. Thank you.”

  The comic look of horror he’d worn while discussing housecleaning had been traded away for utter seriousness now as those green eyes weighed me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny and was reminded of the spirit dream, where I’d questioned if his eyes really were that green in real life.

  “For what?” I asked.

  “For this—I know you must have twisted some Alchemist arms.” I hadn’t told him that I’d actually passed on taking the place for myself. “And for everything else. For not giving up on me, even when I was being a major asshole. And, you know, for that saving my life thing.”

  I looked away. “I didn’t do anything. That was Eddie—and Jill. They’re the ones who saved you.”

  “Not sure I would’ve been alive for their rescue if you hadn’t set that bitch on fire. How did you do that?”

  “It was nothing,” I protested. “Just a, uh, chemical reaction from the Alchemist bag of tricks.”

  Those eyes studied me again, weighing the truth of my words. I’m not sure he believed me, but he let it go. “Well, from the look on her face, your aim was right on. And then you got backhanded for it. Anyone who takes a hit for Adrian Ivashkov deserves some credit.”

  I turned my back to him, still shy with the praise—and nervous about the fire reference—and walked over to the window. “Yeah, well, you can rest easy that it was a selfish act. You have no idea what a pain it is to file paperwork for a dead Moroi.”

  He laughed, and it was one of the few times I’d heard him laugh with genuine humor and warmth—and not because of something twisted or sarcastic. “Okay, Sage. If you say so. You know, you’re a lot spunkier than when I first met you.”

  “Really? All the adjectives in the world at your disposable, and you pick ‘spunky’?” Banter I could handle. So long as I focused on that, I didn’t have to think about the meaning behind the words or how my heartbeat had increased just a little. “Just so you know, you’re a little more stable than when I met you.”

  He came over to stand by me. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but I think getting away from Court was a good thing. This weather sucks, but Palm Springs might be good for me—it and all the wonders it contains. You guys. Art classes. Pine cleaner.”

  I couldn’t help a grin and looked up at him. I’d been half-joking, but it was true: he had changed remarkably since we’d met. There was still a hurting man inside, one who bore the scars of what Rose and Dimitri had done to him, but I could see the signs of healing. He was steadier and stronger, and if he could just continue to hold the course, with no more crises for a while, a remarkable transformation might truly happen.

  It took several seconds of silence for me to realize that I’d been staring at him while my mind spun out its thoughts. And, actually, he was staring at me, with a look of wonder.

  “My God, Sage. Your eyes. How have I never noticed them?”

  That uncomfortable feeling was spreading over me again. “What about them?”

  “The color,” he breathed. “When you stand in the light. They’re amazing . . . like molten gold. I could paint those
. . .” He reached toward me but then pulled back. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

  Something in the way he was looking at me froze me up and made my stomach do flip-flops, though I couldn’t quite articulate why. I only knew that he looked as though he was seeing me for the very first time . . . and it scared me. I’d been able to brush off his easy, joking compliments, but this intensity was something different altogether, something I didn’t know how to react to. When he looked at me like this, I believed that he thought my eyes were beautiful—that I was beautiful. It was more than I was ready for. Flustered, I took a step backward, out of the sunlight, needing to get away from the energy of his gaze. I’d heard spirit could send him off on weird tangents but had no clue if that’s what this was. I was saved from my feeble attempts to muster a witty comment when a knock at the door made both of us jump.

  Adrian blinked, and some of that rapture faded. His lips twisted into one of his sly smiles, and it was as though nothing weird had happened. “Showtime, huh?”

  I nodded, reeling with a confusing mix of relief, nervousness, and . . . excitement. Except, I wasn’t entirely sure if those feelings were from Adrian or our impending visitors. All I knew was that suddenly, I was able to breathe more easily than I had a few moments ago.

  He walked across the living room and opened the door with a flourish. Abe swept in, resplendent in a gray and yellow suit that coordinated bafflingly well with Adrian’s paint job. A wide grin broke out over the older Moroi’s face.

  “Adrian, Sydney . . . so lovely to see you again. I believe one of you already knows this young lady?” He moved past us, revealing a lean dhampir girl with auburn hair and big blue eyes filled with suspicion.

  “Hello, Angeline,” I said.

  When they’d told me Angeline Dawes was going to be Jill’s new roommate, I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. Angeline was one of the Keepers, that separatist group of Moroi, dhampirs, and humans who lived in the wilds of West Virginia. They wanted nothing to do with the “civilization” of any of our races and had a number of bizarre customs, not the least of which was their abominable tolerance for interracial romance.