“I’ll keep them at Adrian’s,” I said automatically. She didn’t comment, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake. Ms. Terwilliger asked few questions about my personal life, romantic or Alchemist, but she was neither stupid nor oblivious. Maybe witches took vampires in stride, but I wondered if she suspected—and judged—the full extent of my relationship with Adrian.
Adrian leaned forward from the backseat. “That was a lot of work you did for some books. I assume you have some genius plan?”
I dragged my attention from my disheveled skirt and allowed myself to rekindle the excitement I’d felt earlier when Inez’s words had set off a lightbulb in my head. “I’m not sure if it’s genius or not,” I said. “But I think . . . well, I think I can replicate Marcus’s ink.”
CHAPTER 5
ADRIAN
SYDNEY SPENT A LOT OF TIME ON MY BED THESE DAYS. Unfortunately, it wasn’t with me.
I didn’t entirely follow how all that back-and-forthing with Inez had given Sydney the idea to make anti-Alchemist ink, but I’d never claimed I could keep up with her mind. Once she took up the quest, make-out hour had become research hour. She couldn’t work on it around Zoe, and although Jackie pretty much let Sydney do whatever she wanted, their time was limited too. And so, our romantic interludes were reallocated.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the old system, but I wanted her to pursue the ink. As much as I’d disliked Marcus Finch, I had supported his goals to thwart the Alchemists’ influence and attempts at mind control. Sydney had chosen not to go with him to finish the process because she wasn’t ready to embrace his drifter way of life; plus she believed she could accomplish more by staying connected to the Alchemists. Those were noble reasons, but I knew full well that another one—perhaps the greatest—was that she hadn’t wanted to leave me.
And who was I kidding? I didn’t want her to leave me either. At the same time, there’d always been a pang of guilt that I was responsible for leaving her vulnerable to being re-inked. I also knew every stolen moment we had together put her at a terrible risk to face the Alchemists’ wrath. Even though Inez had claimed that Sydney was already immune to future tattooing because of her magic use, both of us wanted that golden lily sealed, just in case the worst happened. But it wasn’t just about herself. She knew that if she could discover an easily reproducible ink capable of negating the Alchemist tattoos, she’d hold a lot of power in her hands.
These research afternoons weren’t so bad. I dragged my supplies into the bedroom and worked on that goddamned self-portrait while she sat cross-legged on my bed, surrounded by books and her laptop. She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice how often I got distracted and watched her. Maybe it was crazy, but there was something incredibly sexy to me about seeing that thoughtful expression juxtaposed with her casual posture as she shifted her legs and leaned forward to read some arcane text. Moroi shied from sunlight, but as I watched the way it illuminated her, I knew without a doubt that humans had been made for the sun.
“It’s boleite,” she said abruptly one day.
I turned from my canvas, which so far had one green line on it. “Like an Indian musical?”
“Boleite, not Bollywood.” She tapped her laptop screen. “It’s this deep blue mineral that has large deposits in Mexico. I’ve been reading all about the mechanics of charm making in Inez’s books, and there’s almost a scientific aspect to it. The composition of different minerals and plants in nature affect the kind of elemental spell components they can hold for charms. Boleite’s cubic crystals and isometric system would make it an excellent medium to suspend the four elements in a way that could be held in the skin and negate any added Moroi magic. Its specific gravity and perfect cleavage go a long way too.”
The only part of that I understood was “perfect cleavage,” but I had a feeling we weren’t thinking of the same thing. “So, uh, what’s the summary?”
She leaned back, eyes enraptured. “It’s not the mineral alone. Marcus thinks he goes to Mexico to get some material that fights the gold ink in and of itself. But it’s more than that. I’ll bet you anything his tattooist is a magic user who charms the boleite before mixing it into the ink. The rebel Alchemists are using human magic and don’t even realize it.”
That was a little more on my level. I set down my paintbrush and picked up a nearby glass of water. “So can you do the same thing? Charm that mineral and make ink out of it to seal your tattoo?”
“I’m not sure. I’d need help from Ms. Terwilliger to figure out that kind of spell. There’s no recorded one that I can use, and we’d have to create our own. I’ve never done anything like that.” She frowned. “Even bigger than that is getting enough boleite to work with. Pretty sure it’s not something lying around in Palm Springs. I could probably order some off the Web . . . or maybe find a more common substitute. Something else in the halide family might have similar properties.”
“And you’d be doubly protected.” That was the most important part here to me, not all the geological jargon.
“If I can do it, yeah. And if Inez’s right that I’m already protected.” Inspiration lit her features. “And I could save Marcus a lot of trouble. He loses time on his Mexico trips. If I could replicate the ink, he’d have a domestic supply and could help more people. Let’s just hope he surfaces someday so that I can actually share this with him.”
I shrugged. “Why wait? We’ll find him in a dream. Not that I really enjoy spending nights with him, but it’ll be passable if you’re there.”
Her features instantly hardened. “No. No unnecessary dreams.”
“It’s necessary. You just said what a huge breakthrough this could be, and no matter how much I hate his hair, Robin Hood Finch is your contact in the underground. You need to run this by him.”
“And I will,” she said obstinately. “The next time I see him. He always comes back. You don’t need to waste spirit on this.”
“It’s not a waste. A dream is cake, Sage.”
“And it’s exactly what I was saying before. You can’t help yourself from doing this kind of stuff—and it’s why I love you. But it’s a risk.”
“Yeah? Some people—not me, of course—might argue that you taking on this whole ink-making mission is an incredible risk. You think insubordination pisses the Alchemists off? What if they found out it was being fueled by magic? And that’s not even considering what they’d do if they found out about me.” I waved the water glass at her for emphasis. “You’re risking a lot, my love. If the Alchemists found out about even one of these things . . .”
“Then what?” she asked warily. “You think I should stop?”
“No, of course not,” I said with more confidence than I felt. Part of me wished there was a way she’d never be in any danger, but that wasn’t reality. At least not our reality. “Because I know you can’t. It’s what you do. And spirit dreams? Those are what I do.” I nodded to her laptop and books. “I can’t do all that sleuthing and magical spell work, but let me do something little like this. Let me feel like I’m contributing something to us.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, Adrian. You contribute plenty. You . . . you have no idea what you do. You’re the greatest joy in my life. The greatest joy I’ve ever had.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said. “We’ll do a dream conference call.”
That love and rapture faltered. “Wait. How is it settled? How did we go from me declaring my love for you to me being okay with a dream?”
“It’s Adrian Ivashkov logic. Don’t try to understand it. Just roll with it.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
I nodded solemnly. “That’s just because you aren’t used to living the kind of spontaneous and unpredictable life I do. The unexpected is par for the course with me. Nothing surprises me anymore.”
A sly look appeared in her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. I bet I could totally tell you something you never saw coming.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
“If I surprise you, will you not do the dream?”
“Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
She hesitated a few seconds, and although there was still a mischievous glint in her eyes, I detected a little nervousness too. “Well . . . I’m on birth control.”
I was drinking the water again and choked on it. It took several moments of coughing before I could gasp out, “What?”
She shrugged, unbelievably casual, as though the suggestion of having sex wasn’t a big deal. And yeah, there was no question about it. I was surprised. Very surprised. I should’ve known better than to doubt her abilities. “It takes a while for it to start working, so I figured I should be prepared, just in case.”
“Just in case,” I repeated, still dumbfounded.
Whatever nervousness she’d had was turning to delight at my discomfort. “Come on, are you saying you don’t think about it?”
“Oh, believe me, I think about it all the time. I just never knew you did. I mean, I figured when it came to sex, the Alchemists had all these principles about purity and marriage and sin . . . and stuff.”
“Most do,” she agreed. “Me? My principles are about love and doing it because there’s meaning and commitment. A piece of paper doesn’t always signal that. If there’s any sin involved, it’s doing it in a . . . I don’t know. Cheap way. With people you don’t care about. When it’s meaningless.”
I couldn’t muster a comment on that because the majority of sex in my life had pretty much been the cheap kind. I couldn’t remember the names of half the girls I’d been with. Sydney was fully aware of this, but she made no condemnation and shifted to a topic that was more expected of her personality.
“And, of course, doing it responsibly is huge too. There are a million pills on the market, so I had to compile all the data.” Then, incredibly, she pulled out a chart from her messenger bag entitled Oral-Contraceptive Comparison. It was hand drawn, but you’d never guess it from the perfect lines and neat writing. There was lots of color coding, as well as columns filled with unintelligible terms like estradiol and androgenicity.
I stared, slack jawed, even though this was completely in line with the Sydney I knew and loved. “You’ve been working on this?”
“I actually made it a while ago. Didn’t take that long.” She regarded it with a sigh. “There are lots of side effects for all of them. I mean, plenty of people have no problems at all, but there are things that sometimes happen that you have to take into consideration. Tons of these are linked to weight gain.”
I studied her very carefully, realizing what a big concession that was. No matter her new healthy habits, I knew her figure was a constant source of worry, which was ridiculous considering how great she looked. “I’m surprised you’d take the chance. There are plenty of other safe sex options, you know. Ones that don’t involve pills.”
“I know.” She set the chart down. “But we don’t have to worry about disease, and this is one of the most effective methods—and it lets me control it. My doctor gave me the one with the lowest incidence of weight gain, so we’ll see.”
I stood up and sat beside her on the bed. “Promise me if you notice anything happening, you just stop taking it. I don’t want you trying to compensate with some crazy diet.”
She met my eyes. “You think I’d do that?”
“I’d rather not risk it and find out.”
“And risk not having sex?”
“I’m not having sex right now and am doing just fine,” I said nobly. “Although . . . uh, just out of academic curiosity, at what point are you thinking about . . .”
Sydney laughed and brushed a kiss against my lips. “I don’t know. Whenever I’m ready.” Abruptly, she sobered. “And there’s Jill . . .”
“Ah,” I said, because it was all I could say.
Jill. Jill, who could see inside my world and the things I did—including the things I did with Sydney. I knew it bothered Sydney—and I couldn’t blame her. Having a reluctant witness to our most intimate activities wasn’t something I liked either, especially when that witness was sweet and innocent Jill. Not that she was probably that sweet and innocent after living in my head. Jill, more than anything, was what I suspected had slowed down my physical relationship with Sydney. There were some things she could grudgingly accept Jill knowing about. There were others she couldn’t.
And I had no argument or conciliatory words to offer. I didn’t know how to get around this, and no way would I pressure Sydney into something she was so uncomfortable with. The only thing I could hope for was that Jill and I could develop the self-control to block each other out. My ex, Rose, had been bound to Lissa, and they’d eventually developed that ability . . . though it had taken a couple years. Was I willing to wait that long for Sydney? Studying her as I held her hand, I knew the answer immediately. Yes. Yes, I would.
I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “Then we’ll just have to see what happens. If it works, great. If not, you stop taking it. It’s a pill, not a lifelong commitment. Besides, there are lots of ways to keep busy in the meantime.”
That brought her smile back, and my heart lightened. “I’m guessing whatever ‘ways’ you have in mind aren’t Jill-appropriate either.”
“Put your books away, and I’ll show you.”
Jill was still on my mind after Sydney left, largely because I had plans to have dinner with her that night. It was something I tried to do once in a while. Maybe Jill knew all about my life, but I wanted to keep in touch with hers. Besides, despite all our group dinners, it was nice just to have the two of us hang out. Well, almost two of us. Occasionally, Jill might leave the school with Sydney, but everyone preferred that a dhampir go along. I knew Jill found it oppressive sometimes, but this was one instance of stiff rules I could support. I’d been there when the assassins had attacked her. I’d seen the blood and her chest grow still. Those images woke me out of sleep all the time, and I’d be damned if there’d ever be a repeat of those events.
And so, Eddie tagged along for these dinners, which I didn’t mind that much. He was a good guy, one who’d seen his own fair share of trauma and heartache. It was a part of him, one he’d used to strengthen himself and carry on. He was real, and I appreciated that.
Except it wasn’t Eddie waiting at the curb with Jill.
“Damn it,” I muttered.
A wry look flashed across Jill’s face as she read my reaction. Although she was respectful of my thoughts and feelings, this was one matter that she stood firmly opposed to me in.
“Hi, Adrian,” she said cheerily, getting into the car. “Neil decided to come along with us tonight.”
“So I see.” He slid into the backseat, giving me a curt nod of greeting in the rearview mirror. “Does Castile have a hot date?”
“No, but we just thought it’d be fun for Neil to get out.” What she actually meant, of course, was that she thought it’d be fun for her to get out with Neil. I didn’t need a bond to know that.
“Plus, I’ve had one more year of experience than Eddie,” added Neil. “So really, I should be the one who always goes out in public with Her Highness.”
Jill normally chafed at her title, but whenever Neil used it, he seemed to act like some ye olde knight that set her heart aflutter.
“Castile’s faced a few tough situations,” I said. “How many Strigoi and assassins have you run up against?” I watched him in the rearview mirror, and although he had that tough-guy look on his face, I saw him shift uneasily.
“I was once part of a large regiment of guardians protecting a royal family when two Strigoi decided to attack,” he said.
“Two Strigoi against a whole group of guardians, huh? Wow. That’s pretty hard core.”
I saw Jill shoot me an angry look in my periphery. “Neil’s done and seen a lot of things. His training is excellent.”
In a great act of generosity, I decided to give up on tormenting her fake crush . . . for now. My attention soon turned to
fighting for a parking spot downtown amid all the other evening diners. One opened up just as I was driving in front of the Greek restaurant I’d picked for dinner. “Adrian Ivashkov wins again,” I declared.
There was only a short wait inside, and as the hostess led us to our table, we passed the dessert case. “Fresh baklava,” observed Jill, face perfectly innocent.
“Looks that way,” I said, just as sweetly. “Maybe we can get some to go.” Baklava was one of Sydney’s favorites. It may or may not have played a role in my decision to come here.
I passed wistfully on the ouzo and asked Jill about her swimming team. All Amberwood students needed to participate in a sport outside of classes, and swimming was the perfect choice for her since most meets were indoors and because her elemental specialty was water. Personally, I wasn’t a huge sports fan, though I did like Super Bowl parties, especially if I didn’t have to watch the game. I had gone to a few of Jill’s swim meets and found it was worth enduring the overexcited parents to see her excel.
Even now, there was happiness on her face as she described achieving a new personal best, and it was a pleasant distraction from the storms continually brewing in my mind. She’d had a lot of difficulties adjusting to Amberwood, and I was glad to see something going her way. The interlude was ruined when she turned to Neil with shining eyes.
“Neil’s on the wrestling team. He’s really amazing. The best one. He wins all his matches.”
I leaned back in the chair, feeling no more qualms about going after him if she insisted on bringing him up. “Well, of course he does. Any dhampir is going to dominate over a human. It’s nature.”
The Fiery Heart b-4 Page 7
