The Indigo Spell b-3

by Richelle Mead

  “It’s the most important meal of the day, right?” I selected oatmeal and an apple. “Besides, I have a favor to ask you.”

  Kristin nearly dropped the plate of scrambled eggs one of the servers handed to her. Her brown eyes widened. “You have a favor to ask me?”

  While I wasn’t responsible for my human friends in the same way I was the Moroi and dhampirs, I still had a tendency to look after them. I’d helped Kristin a number of times.

  “Yeah . . . my cousin Angeline needs a math tutor.”

  There was an expectant look on Kristin’s face, like she was waiting for me to finish my story. Then understanding hit. “Who, me? No. No way.”

  “Oh, come on. It’d be easy.” I followed her to a table, having to hurry to catch up. I think she thought that if she walked quickly enough, she might be able to escape my request. “She’s in remedial math. You could tutor her in your sleep.”

  Kristin sat down and gave me a long, level look. “Sydney, I saw your cousin punch a grown man and throw a speaker at someone. Do you really think I’m going to sign on for a job that makes her do work she doesn’t want to do? What if she gets frustrated at what I’m telling her? How do I know she won’t stab me with a compass?”

  “You don’t,” I admitted. “But I think it’s unlikely. Probably. She really wants to improve her grade. Otherwise, she could get kicked out.”

  “Sorry.” Kristin actually did look legitimately apologetic. “You know I’d do almost anything for you—but not this. You’re going to have to find someone who’s not afraid of her.”

  I thought about her words over and over as I headed off to history class. She was right. But the only people completely at ease around her were Eddie and Jill, and they were off the list as tutors. I wondered if maybe I should offer up money to someone when I went to calculus later.

  “Miss Melbourne.”

  Ms. Terwilliger was back in her classroom, no doubt to the relief of yesterday’s sub. She waved me up to her messy desk and handed me a single sheet of paper. “Here’s the list we discussed.”

  I scanned it. It contained the names of six girls as well as their addresses. These must be the ones she’d mentioned, girls with known magical aptitude but no coven or teacher to look out for them. All the addresses were in the Los Angeles metropolitan area.

  “I trust Mrs. Santos got you the other information you needed for your project?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Santos had emailed me the historical neighborhoods she knew about, and I’d narrowed them down to a couple likely candidates. “I’ll start working on the, uh, project this weekend.”

  Ms. Terwilliger arched an eyebrow. “Why are you putting it off? I’ve never known you to procrastinate on an assignment.”

  I was a little startled. “Well . . . normally I don’t, ma’am. But this is going to take some extra time—travel time—and I don’t have enough of it on school days.”

  “Ah,” she said, realization hitting her. “Well, then, you may use your independent study for it. That’ll give you extra time. And I’ll tell Mrs. Weathers you may be coming in after curfew. I’ll make sure that she’s accommodating. This project is of the utmost importance.”

  There was no protest I could make. “I’ll start today, then.”

  As I was walking back to my desk, a voice said, “Jeez, Melbourne. Just when I thought that independent study you had with her couldn’t get any easier . . . now you don’t even have to show up for class?”

  I paused to give Trey a smile. He was Ms. Terwilliger’s assistant during this class period, meaning he did a lot of filing and photocopying.

  “It’s a very important assignment,” I said.

  “I guess. What is it?”

  “It’d bore you.” I did a double take as I looked him over. I didn’t even have to grope for a change in conversation. “What happened to you?”

  His eyes were bloodshot, and the unkempt state of his black hair suggested he hadn’t had a shower this morning. There was a sallow, almost sickly hue to his normally tan skin. He gave me a weak smile and lowered his voice. “Craig Lo’s brother scored us some beer last night. It was from some microbrewery. I guess that’s good.”

  I groaned. “Trey, I thought you were better than that.”

  Trey managed as much of an indignant look as he could in his hungover state. “Hey, some of us like to have a little fun now and then. You should give it a shot sometime. I already tried to help you with Brayden, but you messed that up.”

  “I didn’t mess anything up!” Brayden was a barista who worked with Trey, one who rivaled me when it came to a love of academia and random knowledge. Our brief relationship had been full of facts and low on passion. “He broke up with me.”

  “You wouldn’t guess it. Did you know he writes all this lovesick poetry about you on his breaks?”

  I was taken aback. “He . . . he does?” The reason Brayden had broken up with me was because my various duties to my vampire family had constantly interfered with the two of us, forcing me to neglect him and cancel a lot. “I feel kind of bad he took it that hard. I’m surprised he’d have such a, I don’t know, outburst of passion.”

  Trey snorted. “I don’t know that it’s that passionate. He’s more concerned about form and sits around with books detailing iambic pentameter and sonnet analysis.”

  “Okay, that sounds more like him.” The bell was about to ring, so I had started to return to my seat when I noticed something on Trey’s desk. “You’re not done with that?”

  It was a big homework assignment we had for our chemistry class, involving a number of complicated acid and base problems. It was due in our next period, and it seemed unlikely Trey would finish in time since all he had on the paper so far was his name.

  “Yeah . . . I was going to finish it last night, but . . .”

  “Right. The beer. Having fun.” I didn’t even bother to hide my disapproval. “That’s a huge part of our grade.”

  “I know, I know.” He looked down at the papers with a sigh. “I’ll finish as much as I can before then. Partial credit’s better than no credit.”

  I studied him for a moment and then made a decision that went against many of my basic principles. I reached into my messenger bag and handed him my completed homework.

  “Here,” I said.

  He took the pages with a frown. “Here what?”

  “It’s the assignment. Use my answers.”

  “I. . . .” His jaw dropped. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think you do. You’re giving me your homework.”

  “Yes.”

  “And telling me to pass it off as my homework.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I didn’t actually do the work.”

  “Do you want them or not?” I asked in frustration. I started to take the papers back, but he pulled them close.

  “Oh, I want them,” he said. “I just want to know what you want in return. Because this doesn’t really make up for getting me ostracized from my family and friends.” He kept his tone light, but I heard the edge of bitterness. There it was. No matter how friendly he and I were, our respective allegiances to the Warriors and the Alchemists would always be between us. Maybe it was a joke now . . . but someday it wouldn’t be.

  “I need a favor,” I explained. “A small one, really. Has nothing to do with any of that . . . stuff.”

  Trey looked understandably wary. “Which is?”

  The bell rang, so I spoke quickly. “Angeline needs a math tutor or else she’ll fail. And if she fails, she’ll get kicked out of school. It wouldn’t be hard for you at all. And it’d look good on your college applications.”

  “Your cousin’s a little unstable,” he said. But he didn’t say no, so I thought that was a good sign.

  “You used to think she was hot,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, that was before. . . .” He didn’t finish, but I knew. Before he found out she was a dhampir. The Warriors
had the same taboos the Alchemists did about relationships between the races.

  “Okay,” I said. “I understand. I’ll just take my homework and go.” I held out my hand, but he didn’t give the papers back.

  “Wait, I’ll do it. But if she injures me, I hope you’ll feel really bad. Basketball season just started, and the team will fall apart if I’m sidelined because of her.”

  I grinned. “I’ll be devastated.”

  Angeline was not so thrilled when I told her at lunch. She flushed with rage and looked like she was about ready to throw her tray across the cafeteria.

  “You expect me to work with that . . . that . . . vampire hunter?” she demanded. I wondered if she’d had another name in mind but had held back in some remarkable show of restraint. “Especially after what they tried to do to Sonya?”

  “Trey’s not like the rest of them,” I said defensively. “He refused to kill her and even went through the trouble of getting me in to help her—which ended up severely messing up his life, I might add.”

  Eddie looked amused, despite the grim subject. “You should also add that he wants very, very badly to get back to that old life.”

  I pointed at Eddie with my fork. “Don’t tell me you think Trey’s a bad choice too.”

  “For tutoring?” He shook his head. “Nah, he’s fine. I’m just saying you shouldn’t be so quick to assume everything’s happy and bright with him. It seems pretty likely his group’s working against us.”

  “He’s my friend,” I said, hoping my firm tone would put an end to the discussion. After a few more assurances, Eddie convinced Angeline to work with Trey, reminding her she needed to keep her grades up. Still, Eddie’s words haunted me. I believed absolutely that Trey was my friend but again wondered when that rift between us would rear its ugly head.

  When Eddie and Angeline left to go to their afternoon classes, I asked Jill to hang back at the table for a minute. “What’s Adrian doing right now?”

  “He’s in his painting class,” she said promptly.

  “The bond must be running strong today, huh?” I asked. Sometimes her view of his mind and experiences was clearer than others.

  She shrugged. “No, but it’s eleven on Tuesday.”

  “Right,” I said, feeling foolish. I knew everyone’s schedules; it was necessary for my job. “I should’ve realized that. Do you think he’d be able to meet up with me after school?”

  “To go on that witch hunt? Yeah, he’d probably leave right now.”

  Jill knew what Adrian knew, so she’d also been briefed about my search for Veronica. While I’d learned to accept Jill’s knowledge as part of confiding in Adrian, it was still a little shocking for me to hear these forbidden topics discussed openly. Seeing my stunned reaction, Jill smiled a little.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I keep Adrian’s secrets. And yours.” The bitterness in her voice also caught me off guard.

  “Are you mad at me?” I asked, puzzled. “You’re not . . . you’re not still upset about what happened between Adrian and me, are you? I thought you’d eased up on that.” Although Adrian’s proclamation of loving me against the odds had been unsettling, his more relaxed attitude had come through in her until now.

  “Adrian has,” she said. “He doesn’t see the danger of you running around with another guy.”

  I was lost. “Another guy? You don’t mean . . . Marcus? That’s crazy.”

  “Is it?” asked Jill. The bond was so strange at times. Jill was jealous on Adrian’s behalf. “He’s human, you’re human. You’ve both got this rebel Alchemist thing going on. And I saw him. He’s pretty cute. There’s no telling what could happen.”

  “Well, I know what could happen: nothing,” I said. Even through a psychic bond, Marcus could win over girls. “I just met him. I don’t even know if I can entirely trust him, and I certainly don’t have any feelings for him. Look, I get that you want to help Adrian, but you can’t be mad at me about what happened. You know why I turned him down—especially after Micah.” Micah was Eddie’s human roommate, and even though she knew human-vampire relationships couldn’t get serious, she’d still been surprised at just how complex and difficult the situation had been.

  “Yeah. . . .” She frowned, no doubt conflicted over Adrian’s feelings and what she knew was true. “But maybe with Adrian, I don’t know. Maybe things could be different. Or maybe there’s at least a way to make them less painful for him.”

  I looked away, unable to meet her eyes. I didn’t like to think of Adrian in pain, but what else could I do? What did either of them expect me to do? We all knew the rules.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, picking up my tray and standing. “I never asked for any of this. Adrian will get over me.”

  “Do you really want him to get over you?” she asked.

  “What? Why would you even ask something like that?”

  She didn’t answer and instead made a great show of stirring around her mashed potatoes. When I realized she wasn’t going to elaborate, I shook my head and walked off toward the exit. All the while, I could feel her watching me as that question echoed in my mind: Do you really want him to get over you?

  CHAPTER 9

  AS JILL HAD SAID, Adrian was more than happy to begin our hunt that afternoon. In fact, when I finally got ahold of him, he offered to pick me up when classes ended, in order to maximize our time. I didn’t mind this since it meant I’d get to ride in the Mustang. Admittedly, I would’ve preferred to drive it myself, but I’d take what I could get.

  “When are you going to name the car?” I asked him once we were on the road to Los Angeles.

  “It’s an inanimate object,” he said. “Names are for people and pets.”

  I patted the Mustang’s dashboard. “Don’t listen to him.” To Adrian, I said, “They name boats all the time.”

  “I don’t really understand that either, but maybe I would if my old man ever fronted me the money for a private yacht.” He shot me a quick, amused look before returning his attention to the road. “How can someone as cold and logical as you be so obsessed with something as frivolous as this?”

  I wasn’t sure which part bothered me the most—being called cold or obsessed. “I’m just giving the proper respect to a beautiful machine.”

  “You named your car after coffee. That’s a sign of respect?”

  “The highest respect,” I said.

  He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Okay, then. You name it. Whatever you want, I’ll go along with.”

  “Really?” I asked, a bit startled. True, I’d been badgering him about naming the car, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the one to wield that sort of power. “It’s a big decision.”

  “Life or death,” he said, deadpan. “Better choose carefully.”

  “Yeah, but you’re the so-called creative one!”

  “Then this’ll be good practice for you.”

  I fell silent for a good part of the drive, struck by the gravity of the dilemma that lay before me. What should the name reflect? The car’s sunny yellow color? Sleek lines? Powerful engine? The task was overwhelming.

  Adrian pulled me out of my thoughts when we began nearing the outer Los Angeles suburbs. “We’re not actually going into the city, are we?”

  “Huh?” I’d been waging a mental debate between Summer Wind and Gold Dust. “Oh, no. We’re heading north. Take the next exit.”

  Mrs. Santos had provided me with two neighborhoods known for their Victorian-style houses. I’d researched them extensively online, even going so far as to look at satellite pictures. I’d finally chosen one that most resembled my vision and crossed my fingers I’d have the same luck as I’d had in finding Marcus’s apartment. Surely the universe owed me a few favors.

  Unfortunately, things didn’t look too promising when we finally reached the street I’d been given. It was a peaceful residential area, filled with those same distinctive houses, but nothing that quite matched the one I’d see
n in my vision. We drove up and down the street as I scanned each side, hoping maybe I’d missed something.

  “Ugh,” I said, slouching back into my seat. No luck. The universe had apparently cut me off. “We’ll have to check the other location, but seriously, it didn’t look like a match.”

  “Well, it can’t hurt to—” Adrian suddenly made an abrupt turn onto a side street we’d nearly driven past. I jerked upright as he clipped the curb.

  “What are you doing? Think about your tires!”

  “Look.” He made another turn, putting us on a parallel street. Most of it was contemporary California housing . . . but one block had more Victorian houses. I gasped.

  “There it is!”

  Adrian came to a stop on the side of the street opposite from the house of my vision. Everything was there, from the wrapping porch to the hydrangea bush. And now, in the full light of day, I could make out the sign in the front yard: OLD WORLD BED-AND-BREAKFAST. Smaller print identified it as a historic site.

  “Well, there we go.” Adrian was clearly very pleased with his find, despite the risk to the car’s tires. “Maybe Jackie’s sister is staying here.”

  “Odd choice to run nefarious magical activities out of,” I remarked.

  “I don’t know. Seeing as there aren’t any ancient castles in the neighborhood, then why not a bed-and-breakfast?”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Let’s go make some inquiries. You sure you can muddle the minds of those who see me?”

  “Easy,” he said. “Easier still if you were wearing your wig.”

  “Oh, shoot. I forgot.” I ducked down and retrieved a shoulder-length brown wig that Ms. Terwilliger had supplied me with. Even with Adrian’s magic, we wanted to take extra precautions. While it would be good if people were visited by an unmemorable blonde, it’d be better still if they were visited by an unmemorable brunette. I tugged the wig on, hoping no one had seen my transformation. I lifted my head. “Does it look okay?”

  Adrian’s face showed approval. “It’s cute. You look even brainier, which I didn’t think was possible.”

  We left the car, and I wondered if I wanted to look brainier. A lot of people already thought I was boring. Blond hair might be the only exciting thing I had going for me. Then I thought for a minute about my recent experience scaling a fire escape, breaking and entering, and getting into a fistfight with a fugitive. Not to mention that I was now hunting a powerful evil witch alongside a vampire who could control people’s minds.