The Indigo Spell b-3, Page 3

  “So,” I said at last, staring at my hands. “How’s, uh, your car?”

  “I left it out on the street. Figured it’ll be fine there while I’m gone.”

  I jerked my head up, jaw dropping. “You did what? They’ll tow it if it’s left there overnight!”

  Adrian was laughing before I even finished. “So that’s what it takes to get a passionate reaction, huh?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Sage. I was just kidding. It’s tucked away safely in my building’s parking lot.”

  I felt my cheeks burn. I hated that I’d fallen into his joke and was even a little embarrassed that I’d just flipped out over a car. Admittedly, it wasn’t just any car. It was a beautiful, classic Mustang that Adrian had recently purchased. In fact, he’d bought it to impress me, pretending he couldn’t drive manual transmission in order to spend more time with me while I taught him. I thought the car was amazing, but it still astonished me that he would have gone to that much trouble for us to be together.

  We reached our cruising altitude, and the flight attendant returned to get Adrian another drink. “Anything for you, miss?” she asked.

  “Diet Coke,” I said automatically.

  Adrian tsked once she was gone. “You could’ve gotten that for free back in coach.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do I have to spend the next five hours being harassed? If so, I’ll go back in coach and let some lucky person ‘upgrade’ to my seat.”

  Adrian held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, no. Carry on. I’ll entertain myself.”

  Entertaining himself turned out to be doing a crossword puzzle in one of the in-flight magazines. I took out Ms. Terwilliger’s book and tried to read, but it was hard to focus with him beside me. I kept sneaking glances out of the corner of my eye, partly to see if he was looking at me and partly just to study his features. He was the same Adrian as ever, annoyingly good looking with his tousled brown hair and sculpted face. I vowed I wouldn’t speak to him, but when I noticed he hadn’t written anything in a while and was tapping his pen loudly on the tray, I couldn’t help myself.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Seven-letter word for ‘cotton gin pioneer.’”

  “Whitney,” I replied.

  He leaned over and wrote in the letters. “‘Dominates the Mohs’ scale.’ Also seven letters.”

  “Diamond.”

  Five words later, I realized what was happening. “Hey,” I told him. “I am not doing this.”

  He looked up at me with angelic eyes. “Doing what?”

  “You know what. You’re luring me in. You know I can’t resist—”

  “Me?” he suggested.

  I pointed at the magazine. “Random trivia.” I angled my body away from him and made a big show of opening my book. “I have work to do.”

  I felt Adrian look over my shoulder, and I tried to ignore how aware of his proximity I was. “Looks like Jackie’s still got you working hard in her class.” Adrian had met Ms. Terwilliger recently and had somehow charmed his way into a first-name basis.

  “This one’s more like an extracurricular activity,” I explained.

  “Really? I thought you were pretty against doing any more with this stuff than you had to.”

  I shut the book in frustration. “I am! But then she said—” I bit off the words, reminding myself that I shouldn’t engage with Adrian any more than I had to. It was just too easy to slip back into old, friendly behaviors with him. It felt right when, obviously, it was wrong.

  “Then what?” he prompted, voice gentle.

  I looked up at him and saw no smugness or mockery. I didn’t even see any of the burning hurt that had plagued me these last few weeks. He actually looked concerned, which momentarily distracted me from Ms. Terwilliger’s task. Seeing him this way contrasted drastically with what had followed in the wake of our kiss. I’d been so nervous at the thought of sitting with him on this flight, and yet, here he was, ready to support me. Why the change?

  I hesitated, unsure what to do. Since last night, I’d been turning her words and the vision over and over in my head, trying to figure out what they meant. Adrian was the only person who knew about my involvement with her and magic (aside from Jill), and until this moment, I hadn’t realized how badly I was dying to discuss this with someone. So, I cracked and told him the whole story of my desert adventure.

  When I finished, I was surprised to see how dark his expression had become. “It’s one thing for her to try to get you to learn spells here and there. But it’s a totally different thing for her to drag you into something dangerous.”

  His ardent concern surprised me a little—but maybe it shouldn’t have. “From the way she talked, though, it wasn’t like it was her doing. She seemed pretty upset about . . . well, whatever all this means.”

  Adrian pointed at the book. “And that’ll help somehow?”

  “I guess.” I ran my fingers over the cover and embossed Latin words. “It has protection and attack spells—things that are a bit more hard core than what I’ve ever done. I don’t like it, and these aren’t even the really advanced ones. She told me to skip those.”

  “You don’t like magic, period,” he reminded me. “But if these can keep you safe, then maybe you shouldn’t ignore them.”

  I hated admitting when he was right. It only encouraged him. “Yeah, but I just wish I knew what I was trying to stay safe from—no. No. We can’t do this.”

  Without even realizing it, I’d slipped into the way things used to be, talking to Adrian in that easy, comfortable way we had. In fact, I’d even been confiding in him. He looked startled.

  “Do what? I stopped asking you for crossword help, didn’t I?”

  I took a deep breath, bracing myself. I’d known this moment was coming, no matter how much I wanted to put it off. I just hadn’t expected it to come while on a plane ride.

  “Adrian, we have to talk about what happened. Between you and me,” I declared.

  He took a moment to consider my words. “Well . . . last I knew, nothing was happening between you and me.”

  I dared a look at him. “Exactly. I’m sorry for what happened . . . what I said, but it was all true. We have to move past this and go on with our lives in a normal way. It’s for the good of our group in Palm Springs.”

  “Funny, I have moved past it,” he said. “You’re the one bringing it up.”

  I blushed again. “But it’s because of you! You’ve spent the last few weeks all moody and sulking, hardly ever talking to me. And when you do, there’s usually some nasty barb in it.” While recently having dinner at Clarence Donahue’s, I’d seen one of the most terrifying spiders ever come crawling into the living room. Mustering all my courage, I’d caught the creepy little beast and set him free. Adrian’s comment on my brave act had been, “Wow, I didn’t know you actually faced down things that scared you. I thought your normal response was to run kicking and screaming from them and pretend they don’t exist.”

  “You’re right about the attitude,” he said now, nodding along with my words. Once again, he looked remarkably serious. “And I’m sorry.”

  “You . . . are?” I could only stare. “So . . . you’re done with all of that . . . stuff? Done with, uh, feeling that way?” I couldn’t bring myself to elaborate. Done with being in love with me.

  “Oh, no,” he said cheerfully. “Not at all.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I’m done with the pouting,” he said. “Done with being moody—well, I mean, I’m always a little moody. That’s what Adrian Ivashkov’s all about. But I’m done with the excessive stuff. That didn’t get me anywhere with Rose. It won’t get me anywhere with you.”

  “Nothing will get you anywhere with me,” I exclaimed.

  “I don’t know about that.” He put on an introspective look that was both unexpected and intriguing. “You’re not as much of a lost cause as she was. I mean, with her, I had to overcome her deep, epic love with a Russian warlord. You and I
just have to overcome hundreds of years’ worth of deeply ingrained prejudice and taboo between our two races. Easy.”

  “Adrian!” I felt my temper beginning to flare. “This isn’t a joke.”

  “I know. It’s certainly not to me. And that’s why I’m not going to give you a hard time.” He paused dramatically. “I’ll just love you whether you want me to or not.”

  The attendant came by with hot towels, putting our conversation on hold and allowing his slightly disturbing words to hang in the air between us. I was dumbfounded and couldn’t muster a response until after she came back to collect the cloths.

  “Whether I want you to or not? What on earth does that mean?”

  Adrian grimaced. “Sorry. That came off creepier than I intended. I just mean, I don’t care if you say we can’t be together. I don’t care if you think I’m the most evil, unnatural creature walking the earth.”

  For the briefest of moments, his choice of words threw me back in time, to when he’d told me I was the most beautiful creature walking the earth. Those words haunted me now, just as they had then. We’d been sitting in a dark, candlelit room, and he’d looked at me in a way that no one ever had—

  Stop it, Sydney. Focus.

  “You can think whatever you want, do whatever you want,” Adrian continued, unaware of my traitorous thoughts. There was a remarkable calm about him. “I’m going to just go on loving you, even if it’s hopeless.”

  I don’t know why that shocked me as much as it did. I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I . . . what? No. You can’t!”

  He tilted his head to the side as he regarded me carefully. “Why? It doesn’t hurt you or anything. I told you I won’t bother you if you don’t want me to. And if you do, well, I’m all about that. So what’s it matter if I just love you from afar?”

  I didn’t entirely know. “Because . . . because you can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “You . . . you need to move on,” I managed. Yes, that was a sound reason. “You need to find someone else. You know I don’t—that I can’t. Well, you know. You’re wasting your time with me.”

  He remained firm. “It’s my time to waste.”

  “But it’s crazy! Why would you do that?”

  “Because I can’t help doing it,” he said with a shrug. “And hey, if I keep loving you, maybe you’ll eventually crack and love me too. Hell, I’m pretty sure you’re already half in love with me.”

  “I am not! And everything you just said is ridiculous. That’s terrible logic.”

  Adrian returned to his crossword puzzle. “Well, you can think what you want, so long as you remember—no matter how ordinary things seem between us—I’m still here, still in love with you, and care about you more than any other guy, evil or otherwise, ever will.”

  “I don’t think you’re evil.”

  “See? Things are already looking promising.” He tapped the magazine with his pen again. “‘Romantic Victorian poetess.’ Eight letters.”

  I didn’t answer. I had been rendered speechless. Adrian never mentioned that dangerous topic again for the rest of the flight. Most of the time, he kept to himself, and when he did speak, it was about perfectly safe topics, like our dinner and the upcoming wedding. Anyone sitting with us would never have known there was anything weird between us.

  But I knew.

  That knowledge ate me up. It was all-consuming. And as the flight progressed, and eventually landed, I could no longer look at Adrian the same way. Each time we made eye contact, I just kept thinking of his words: I’m still here, still in love with you, and care about you more than any other guy ever will. Part of me felt offended. How dare he? How dare he love me whether I wanted him to or not? I had told him not to! He had no right to.

  And the rest of me? The rest of me was scared.

  If I keep loving you, maybe you’ll eventually crack and love me too.

  It was ludicrous. You couldn’t make someone love you just by loving them. It didn’t matter how charming he was, how good looking, or how funny. An Alchemist and a Moroi could never be together. It was impossible.

  I’m pretty sure you’re already half in love with me.

  Very impossible.

  CHAPTER 3

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, Adrian made no other mention of the relationship—or lack thereof—between us. Every once in a while, though, I could swear I saw something in his eyes, something that brought back an echo of his proclamation about continuing to love me. Or maybe it was just his typical impertinence.

  A connecting flight and an hour-long car ride later, it was night by the time we finally reached the small resort town in the Pocono Mountains. Getting out of the car was a shock. December in Pennsylvania was very, very different from December in Palm Springs. Crisp, frigid air hit me, the kind that freezes your mouth and nose. A layer of fresh snow covered everything, glittering in the light of the same full moon that Ms. Terwilliger and I had worked magic by. The stars were out here in just as much force as the stark desert, though the cold air made them glitter in a sharper way.

  Adrian stayed in our hired car but leaned out as the driver handed me my small suitcase. “Need any help with that?” Adrian asked. His breath made a frosty cloud in the air.

  It was an uncharacteristic offer from him. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, though. I take it you aren’t staying here?” I nodded toward the bed-and-breakfast the car had stopped at.

  Adrian pointed down the road, toward a large, lit-up hotel perched on a hill. “Up there. That’s where all the parties will be, if you’re interested. They’re probably just getting started.”

  I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Moroi normally ran on a nocturnal schedule, starting their days around sunset. Those living among humans—like Adrian—had to adapt to a daytime schedule. But here, in a small town that must be bursting with Moroi guests, he’d have the chance to return to what was for him a more natural schedule.

  “Noted,” I said. A moment of awkwardness followed, but the temperature gave me an excuse for escape. “Well. I’d better get in where it’s warm. Nice, uh, traveling with you.”

  He smiled. “You too, Sage. See you tomorrow.”

  The car door closed, and I suddenly felt lonely without him. They drove off toward the towering hotel. My bed-and-breakfast seemed tiny by comparison, but it was cute and in good shape. The Alchemists had booked me here precisely because they knew the Moroi guests would have other accommodations. Well, most of them.

  “Are you here for the wedding, dear?” asked the innkeeper as she checked me in. “We have some other guests staying with us as well.”

  I nodded as I signed my credit card slip. It was no surprise that there’d be overflow to this inn, but there’d be a lot less here than the other hotel. I’d make sure to lock my door. I trusted my friends in Palm Springs, but all other Moroi and dhampirs were questionable.

  Towns like this, and the inns within them, always seemed intended for couples on romantic getaways. My room was no exception. It had a California-king-size bed draped in a gauzy canopy, along with a heart-shaped Jacuzzi by the fireplace. It screamed love and romance, which brought Adrian back to my mind. I ignored it all as best I could and jotted out a quick text to Donna Stanton, a higher-ranking Alchemist who oversaw my assignment in Palm Springs.

  Arrived in Pocono Hollow. Checked into inn.

  Her response came quickly: Excellent. See you tomorrow. A second text followed a moment later: Lock your door.

  Stanton and one other Alchemist were invited to the wedding as well. But they were already on the East Coast and could simply travel here tomorrow. I envied them.

  Despite my uneasiness, I slept surprisingly well and dared to emerge for breakfast in the morning. I had no need to worry about Moroi, though. I was the only person eating in the sun-drenched dining room.

  “How strange,” remarked the innkeeper as she delivered my coffee and eggs. “I know many of the guests were out late, but I thought at least
a few might be here to eat.” Then, to emphasize the oddness of it all, she added, “After all, breakfast is complimentary.”

  The nocturnal Moroi, who were all still in bed, emboldened me to explore the town a little that day. Even though I’d prepared with boots and a heavy coat, the weather change was still a bit shocking. Palm Springs had made me soft. I soon called it an early day and spent the rest of the afternoon reading Ms. Terwilliger’s book by the fire. I flew through the first section and even went on to the advanced one she’d told me to skip. Maybe it was the fact that it was forbidden, but I couldn’t stop reading. The scope of what the book described was so gripping and consuming that I nearly jumped a foot in the air when I heard a knock at the door. I froze, wondering if some confused Moroi had mistaken my room for a friend’s. Or, worse, for a feeder’s.

  My phone suddenly chimed with a text message from Stanton: We’re at your door.

  Sure enough, when I opened it, I found Stanton standing there—with Ian Jansen, an Alchemist the same age as me. His presence was a surprise. I hadn’t seen Ian since he, Stanton, and I had been detained by Moroi for questioning in the escape of a dhampir fugitive. Back then, Ian had had an unwelcome crush on me. Judging from the dopey smile on his face when he saw me, things hadn’t changed. I gestured them inside, making sure to lock the door when I closed it. Like me, both Alchemists had golden lily tattoos on their left cheeks. It was the sign of our order, tattoos infused with vampire blood that gave us quick healing and were magically designed to stop us from discussing Alchemist affairs with those who didn’t know about them.

  Stanton arched an eyebrow at the heart-shaped tub and then settled into a chair by the fire. “No trouble getting here?”