The Fiery Heart b-4

by Richelle Mead

  “Sorry,” I said, feeling only slightly so. “You came here to learn. I’m just trying to help.”

  She gave me a small smile. “I know. I’m here for professional reasons. It’s just hard to forget sometimes that you’re my sister. You’re pretty good at it, though . . . treating me like I’m just another Alchemist. I’ll have to try harder to be as good.”

  I flinched. She meant it as a compliment, that I could put aside what was between us and wholeheartedly focus on Alchemist mandates. I didn’t feel so proud of that, though. In fact, it made me distinctly uncomfortable, and I nodded toward her book. “What are you reading?”

  That got her out of business mode, though it also brought a scowl. “I don’t know. Some Shakespeare play for my English class. We have to pick one by tomorrow, and I thought this one would be good since it’s so short.” She held it up. Richard III. “But I’m not really getting it.”

  “Yikes,” I said.

  “Bad play?” she guessed.

  “Great play, but maybe not the best match for you. See if you can hunt down a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Might be easier on you.” Thinking of my friends’ romantic woes, I couldn’t help a small, sad smile. “And you’re practically living in the middle of it.” I laughed when she didn’t get the reference. “I forget that wasn’t part of Dad’s standard curriculum. I did most of my literature research on my own.”

  She nodded, and suddenly her eyes went wide. “Oh! I nearly forgot to tell you. He’s coming here. Dad.”

  I sat bolt upright in the chair. “When?”

  “Next week.” I tried to relax, knowing my shock was a bit beyond ordinary surprise. I certainly couldn’t let her know I was afraid. “He wants to talk to us about Mom and the hearing. They’ve set a date for next month.”

  That was news to me, but then I shouldn’t have been surprised at being out of the loop. After all, Zoe had proved a much more eager daughter than I had. It was only natural he’d tell her first.

  “He’s going to help prepare us,” she continued. “So that we can be ready to fight for him.”

  “Ah,” I said.

  Zoe flounced back on the bed and stared morosely at the ceiling. “I wish it were over already. No, I wish I was eighteen like you and could just be free.”

  While I could think of many adjectives to describe myself, “free” wasn’t usually one that came to mind.

  “Oh, Sydney,” Zoe lamented. “Why is she doing this?”

  “Because she loves you,” I said quietly.

  “That’s not love.”

  I was glad Zoe didn’t elaborate because I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to keep my cool in the face of whatever shallow definitions of love she would’ve undoubtedly come up with.

  “Mom’s not going to be able to match all of Dad’s educational and cultural talk,” I observed. “All she’ll have is anecdotal stuff to go on. Like that time you broke your foot.”

  “It was my whole leg,” Zoe said quietly. I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t have to, judging from the faraway look in her eyes. When Zoe was little, she’d wanted to take gymnastics, so our mom had made it happen. An accident at a meet had broken Zoe’s leg, and she’d had to spend the night in the hospital, which was devastating since it was the same night as her team’s victory party. Mom had made arrangements to bring the team and the party to the hospital room, much to the staff’s astonishment. Zoe, craving social contact back then, had loved it. Our dad had thought the incident was proof of how worthless the class was.

  When I drove the gang to Clarence’s later that evening, I heard a text come in on the Love Phone in my purse. Strict principles against texting and driving kept me away from it, but it wasn’t easy. That, and I tried not to get the phone out when others were around. As soon as we were walking up Clarence’s driveway, however, I pulled it out and read Adrian’s message: Escape plan #5: Open an alpaca ranch in Texas, one that requires all blond-haired, brown-eyed, brainy girls to wear sexy cowgirl outfits. I reread the words and smiled before deleting it, just like I did all of his messages. Jill caught my eye as she passed and smiled back at me. Sometimes her inner knowledge was creepy. Sometimes, it was like a comforting diary, having someone who knew about my romance. I really didn’t like a life of secrets, even if I’d been raised to live one.

  None of us were great company tonight. I was down over Adrian, Jill over her Neil/Eddie dilemma, Angeline over Trey, and Zoe over our parents. Only Eddie and Clarence seemed to be having a good time—well, and Dorothy, once she was swimming on the high of having given Jill her blood. Clarence was in one of his more coherent moments and was regaling us with some of his tales of traveling, back when he was younger and hadn’t withdrawn from the Moroi world. One of his stories mentioned visiting a small exclusively dhampir training academy in Italy that had an excellent reputation. Eddie hung on every detail that Clarence could muster up.

  “Deadly on the inside, beautiful on the outside. The entire roof of the building was a viewing deck, and students often spent their evenings—after training, of course—sitting out with espresso and watching the views of Lake Garda.” He frowned. “Can’t recall its Italian name.”

  “Lago di Garda,” I said automatically.

  “Ah, yes. That was it. And it wasn’t too far from Verona, either. You could get a little Shakespearean insight.” He chuckled.

  Zoe looked up from the remnants of her pizza and made a rare show of engaging Clarence. “Don’t mention him.”

  “Why ever not? He’s a great writer. And I thought you were such a literature fan too.”

  Zoe nodded toward me. “That’s her. I have to write about one of his plays and don’t have a book. I can’t believe she’s making us e-mail her our choice tomorrow. On a Saturday! I’ll have to hunt down an online version on my laptop when we get home.”

  “I see.” Clarence smiled magnanimously. “Well, why don’t you just borrow one of mine?”

  For a minute, I thought Clarence meant she could borrow a laptop, which would be mind-blowing since, last I checked, the microwave was the most high-tech item in the house. Then, thinking of how every room contained shelves of books, I understood. “You’ve got some of his plays?” I asked.

  “All of them. They’re in the extra storage in the garage. You’re welcome to go browse.”

  “Do you have . . .” Zoe glanced at me questioningly. “What was it, A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

  “Of course,” said Clarence. “A great piece on love.”

  I scoffed. “I don’t know about that. It’s mostly a series of zany hijinks set against a magical backdrop.”

  “Didn’t you say we were practically living it?” Zoe asked.

  “Love, in my experience,” began Clarence, “generally is a series of zany hijinks.”

  “Love is . . .” An old memory with Adrian came back to me, and some of the turbulent emotion I always carried within me these days welled up in my chest. It was stupid, feeling so lovesick when he’d been gone less than a day, but I couldn’t get him or the ways he described love out of my head. “. . . a flame in the dark. A breath of warmth on a winter’s night. A star that guides you home.” When I realized everyone was staring at me, I quickly tried to redirect. “I read those in a book. You should check out Clarence’s library, Zoe. If you don’t get Midsummer, there might still be something else you’ll like.”

  As soon as I saw her go pale, I knew I’d succeeded in my distraction. Everyone turned from me to her, though Eddie took the longest. I could immediately guess what she was thinking. Exploring a vampire’s garage was akin to going into a crypt, in her eyes. She probably expected to find coffins. I smiled.

  “Want me to go with you?” I was kind of curious to see what his “extra storage” contained.

  “Would you?” she asked, her head bobbing up and down.

  “Of course.” I felt a small surge of warmth at doing this seemingly miniscule thing for her. I hadn’t forgotten her earlier comments about
whether we were sisters or colleagues, and comforting her in a scary place was something I used to do when she was little.

  As it turned out, though, Clarence’s garage was a complete and total contrast to the Gothic stateliness of the rest of his home. His little-used Porsche was parked inside it, making Zoe gape. There were gardening tools and home-improvement tools, a water heater, a workbench, and a whole area dedicated to boxed books. I cringed a little at that last one. Palm Springs might not be as damp as other places, but it was still an unnecessary risk to the books. I helped Zoe find the box of Shakespeare and then left her to make her own choice, warning her to read the backs and not go by length. Glancing at some of Clarence’s other books, I saw a collection of poetry that I pulled out and tucked under my arm for Adrian.

  As Zoe continued searching, I found a seat on a stool and made a comfortable footrest out of a bag of gravel. Certain Zoe was engrossed in her task, I covertly took out my cell phone in case I’d missed any messages from Adrian. I hadn’t. I jotted out: Got you a book of poetry. Maybe shorter pieces will be easier than Gatsby. Clinging to hope, I stared at the screen and willed a response to come. Nothing came, and I had to remind myself he was away on business and probably enmeshed in the spirit case.

  I shifted my feet, and a few small rocks fell out of the gravel bag. Except, when I took a closer look, I realized it was a bag of rock salt used for de-icing. Judging from the dirt and grime covering the bag, it didn’t see much use around here. Clarence still got points for preparedness, though. I jumped down and knelt to pick up the pieces that had fallen out. As I held some of the crystals in my hand, revelation hit me like a slap in the face.

  Rock salt. Sodium chloride. The most common halide out there, with a cubic crystal system—just like boleite. It was so common, in fact, that it had never even crossed my mind as a candidate for the renegade ink experiments. I’d been focusing on the more exotic. I held up a piece of the salt, watching the way the light sparkled off it. My mind ran down which of its properties I could recall, conducting more comparisons to boleite. Could the answer really be right in front of me? Could my search have such an easy answer?

  My heart began to pound as I dared a look at Zoe. She was engrossed in her task and appeared to be leafing through As You Like It. It was stupid and foolhardy to experiment here, but suddenly, I had to know. Retreating to the far side of the garage, I took up a position that gave me a good vantage of Zoe but kept her back to me. Getting dirt on my hands from the grungy floor was easy, and after one more nervous look in her direction, I summoned up earth’s essence.

  I’d done it so much by now, it was almost second nature. A glow filled my hand, and I quickly covered my other hand, which held a salt crystal, transferring the light. The salt gleamed briefly, then all light faded. Had it worked? Was this crystal infused? Everything had felt right, but I couldn’t say for sure. Ms. Terwilliger could tell me tomorrow, but once again, my urgency got the best of me.

  I returned to my stool, like nothing had happened, and texted my teacher: Any chance you could swing by my dorm tonight to collect an assignment? If she couldn’t, I could find an excuse to leave and go to her, but that would elicit questions from Zoe. Fortunately, the response I received was: Yes, I’ll stop by after my date with MW. It took me a minute to remember MW was Malachi Wolfe. Ugh.

  Zoe stood up and stretched, then waved a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. “I think I’m set. I hope this works.”

  “Me too,” I said, pocketing the crystal.

  It was easy stepping out of my dorm room later, when Ms. Terwilliger got in touch to say she was in the lobby. I met her near the door and tried not to let my jaw drop when I saw her. Not only was she wearing makeup, she was also in an amazingly cute shift dress that didn’t look like a Woodstock leftover.

  “Wow . . . you look great, ma’am.”

  She beamed as she smoothed the skirt. “You think so? I haven’t worn this in years. Malachi said this shade of pink makes me look like a Botticelli angel.”

  “He said what?”

  “It’s not important. Just pillow talk.” My jaw did drop then. “Now. What was it you needed?”

  I swallowed and tried to remember. “Oh, I just wanted to give this back.”

  I handed her a history book I’d grabbed at random and slipped the salt into her hand at the same time. All trace of lovesickness vanished. Her features grew sharp as she carefully rested the salt on the book. I clenched my hands so tightly my fingers hurt.

  “Well, well, well,” she said, voice soft. “Look at that.”

  “Yes?”

  She lifted her eyes and smiled at me. “Congratulations, Sydney. You’ve made a flawless elemental charm.”

  CHAPTER 9

  ADRIAN

  I WAS BEING AN ASSHOLE AND DIDN’T CARE.

  The thing was, no one else seemed to care either. Maybe they already understood what was at stake. Maybe they could just sense my urgency. Whatever it was, time was slipping away before my eyes, and I’d be damned if I was going to let anyone here screw this up.

  “Get a doctor here,” I ordered. “Or a nurse. Hell, anyone who can safely draw blood.” I didn’t need to specify a Moroi doctor. That was understood, and it was a wild card. Moroi sometimes clung together in isolated communities. Some tried to hide from Strigoi by mixing in heavily populated human areas. The key would be finding someone in the latter category with medical training—who was relatively close by.

  Dimitri immediately walked out of the room, already dialing on his cell phone, and for once, I appreciated his do-gooder efficiency.

  Nina and Olive exchanged startled looks. “What’s going on?” Nina demanded. “Why are you taking her blood?”

  “Because you’d better have a good reason,” snapped Olive, coming to life. “Or I’m going to walk right out of here.” She shuddered. “I’ve seen enough blood for a lifetime these last three months.”

  I smiled, and a little of my tension faded. There was a fire in both sisters that I liked, and I was also amused at Olive’s certainty that she could walk out. Aside from the fact that restoration took a huge physical toll, she’d never get past even one of the guardians.

  “Your blood may save lives.” I reconsidered my word choice. A Strigoi, discovering he or she couldn’t turn a victim, might simply kill. “Or, well, souls. No Strigoi can ever turn you again.”

  Some of Olive’s bravado wavered. “Really . . . you mean it? Because . . . I really would rather be dead than go through that again.” She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the tears from leaking out. “It was awful . . .”

  “I know,” I said, watching as Nina sat down and gathered Olive into a hug. I actually didn’t know, of course. I had no clue what that hell must have been like. “But you’re immune now. And we’re trying to see if we can use what Nina did to you to help others.”

  Nina lifted her head from her sister’s chest. “Can I do something to help you now?”

  “I think your part’s over, though another spirit user’s input can’t hurt. When you’re able to grasp it again,” I added.

  Those unusual gray eyes met mine. “I grasped enough to see how much you were wielding earlier. I couldn’t use that much.”

  I brushed her comment off and ignored the curious look Rose gave me. “Not true. Saving her would’ve required at least that much.”

  Dimitri returned a few moments later. “There’s a nurse on her way. It’ll probably be an hour.” For the first time in our acquaintance, he looked at me deferentially. “Is that enough time?”

  “It has to be,” I said, tuning back in to the spirit radiating around Olive. We’d lose some of it, but I was pretty sure we’d still have a little left.

  Meanwhile, I had to plan ahead. Sonya had always hoped that by studying the magic in the blood, we might be able to replicate that spell. I didn’t know if that was possible. Looking at the way it shone around Olive now, I couldn’t see anything definable about it that would’ve allowed
me to cast it in the same way. Maybe I didn’t have the skill. I wondered if perhaps it was as straightforward as Nina casting spirit in the same way she had to restore Olive. If that was the key, we had a few problems. One was that the spell required a silver stake through the heart. The other was that even doing it once wiped out a spirit user. We were hardly in a position to mass-produce some magical vaccine.

  Speaking of vaccines . . . I wondered if it was as simple as that. Could we just inject her blood into someone else? Or tattoo it? The biology side of this wasn’t my thing. That required someone like Sydney.

  Thinking of her made me wish she were here. I checked my cell phone and found a message about poetry that made me smile. I tried to think of something witty to send back and ended up going with the naked truth: I need you. In all senses of the word.

  It was true. Crises like these were her specialty, not mine. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and tried to ignore the pang of her absence. If she were here, she’d stick to business. I could do no less. I believe in you.

  “I need some silver,” I said, not really directing my words to anyone in particular. “A case that’s perfectly forged to hold a vial of blood would be ideal, but since I’m guessing none of you are metalsmiths, I’ll take what I can get.”

  Unfortunately, there was none in the house. Not even the girls had any jewelry on. Rose dispatched one of the other guardians as though she were a general on the battlefield. “Find a store that sells jewelry,” she told him. “And bring us some silver.”

  “Large men’s rings, if you can find them,” I added. “Five or six will probably work for a vial.”

  “Just one vial?” asked Olive. That earlier fierceness returned. “You can take as much as you need from me. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop this.”

  “Easy there, champ,” I told her. “We’re not going to drain you when you’re still recovering from literally having your life changed. Besides, I don’t even know yet if your blood will keep holding the magic once it’s out of you.” Seeing everyone’s blank looks, I realized I hadn’t shared my idea with them. “Her body’s brimming with spirit. I don’t know if that’s what creates the immunity, but it’s the best lead we’ve had. But it’s leaking out fast, which is why we need to hurry.”