The Fiery Heart b-4

by Richelle Mead

  Why? Haven’t I always been there for you? Didn’t I always look after you?

  “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “But you’re dead now, and I have to help my—”

  I suddenly jerked my head up as an idea hit me. I sprang to my feet and hurried over to my dresser, where Aunt Tatiana’s cuff links glittered up at me. Sydney had said I’d have a fortune if I sold them—but I didn’t need to sell them. Not technically. I could take them to a pawnshop and get a loan. In two weeks, I’d go buy them out. Thrilled at my revelation, I scooped them up and started to turn away—then halted. Some inner voice of wisdom made me reconsider the logistics. After a moment’s thought, I set one of them down and sought out a pair of tweezers in the jumble of various other items piled nearby. After a little maneuvering, I plucked out one of the rubies and held it up to the light. No need to risk the others. This was all I needed. More than enough to get me through the next two weeks. Inside my head, Aunt Tatiana’s laughter echoed.

  See? I always look after you.

  “You aren’t real,” I said, striding toward the front door. “You’re just part of spirit messing with my head. All of this is a mental rebound after everything I did with Olive.”

  If I’m not real, then how come you answer me out loud?

  I’d known it would happen, that I couldn’t walk away unscathed from all that spirit. I just hadn’t expected it to bounce around these highs and lows or to escalate to this long of a conversation with my dead aunt. I had to nix this right now. I didn’t want Aunt Tatiana talking to me while I was negotiating with a pawnbroker, and I certainly didn’t want her around while Sydney was here. A check of the time told me I had a while before she showed up, giving me ample opportunity to fix my finances and blot out my aunt.

  I hadn’t had my daily drink and decided it was worth doing it early in order to get a grip. The agreement’s terms referred only to “a drink,” with no qualifiers on strength. So, when I found an old bottle of Bacardi 151—the strongest stuff I owned—I didn’t really feel like I was cheating, even though it had enough kick for two drinks. After a shot of that, I was out the door. And once again, a bolt of wisdom struck me. The shot hadn’t hit me yet, but I prudently chose to walk downtown rather than drive. It was less than fifteen minutes, and by the time I reached the pawnshop I’d passed a dozen times in the past, I was happily buzzed from the rum. The store owner’s assessment soon put a damper on that, though.

  “Two hundred,” he said.

  “That’s bullshit,” I said, taking the ruby back. “It’s worth at least twice that.” It occurred to me then that if I hadn’t had the rum, I’d have full spirit to try to compel a higher price. Immediately, I regretted the thought. Even I had some morals. There was a reason the Moroi forbade the use of compulsion.

  The guy shrugged. “Then run an ad. Sell it on the internet. You want fast cash? This is what you get.”

  I nearly walked out the door, but desperation made me stay. Two hundred was less to pay back, and really, did I need much more than that to get by in the next two weeks?

  “You won’t sell it?” I asked.

  “Not if you can keep paying interest or come pay off the loan.” There was a look in his eyes that told me most people never came back to pay those loans. In some of my darker moments, I would wallow in self-pity over how hard my life was. But just then, I couldn’t help but think it must be pretty depressing to see the desperate dregs of the world coming in to sell off their prized possessions.

  “I’ll pay it back,” I told him. “I’ll be back in two weeks, so take good care of it.”

  “Whatever you say,” he said.

  I gave him the ruby and filled out some paperwork. He gave me the cash. And like that, I was out the door, suddenly feeling a weight lifted off my chest. I’d dealt with the problem. I was in control of my life again. Thinking of Aunt Tatiana’s ruby in that grubby man’s hands did give me a moment’s pause, and I half expected her to protest. But the rum kept her quiet, and I told myself again that there was no harm done.

  I made no attempts to repeat the crème brûlée experiment, but I did pick up some pain au chocolat on the walk home so that I’d have something nice for when Sydney came over. We could eat it by candlelight and catch up on what had happened over the last day or so. It cost me only seven dollars, so no one could question my fiscal responsibility.

  My phone rang when I was nearly to my door, and to my surprise, the display showed Rowena’s name.

  “Hey, Prince Charming! A bunch of us are going to the Matchbox tonight. Eighteen and over, so you can bring your fictitious girlfriend.”

  “I’m bringing her to my apartment tonight for some very not-fictitious activities,” I said. “I haven’t seen her in almost two days.”

  “Boo-hoo. It’s a wonder you haven’t fallen to pieces. You know where we are if you change your mind.”

  My energy was running strong, and I started off doing some rapid-fire painting. After a while, I lost interest and decided to spend the rest of the day cleaning my apartment from top to bottom. I felt a burning need to prove myself, not just to Sydney, but to me. I didn’t want to feel like I was drifting through life. I wanted to be responsible and in control. I wanted to be a worthy partner to her and threw myself into my cleaning more than I had in . . . well, I really couldn’t remember the last time, seeing as I hated cleaning. But tonight, I was fired up. I was unstoppable, even going so far as to scrub my kitchen backsplash with a toothbrush. I was high and excited, and the earlier glum mood was banished to the winds . . . at least until I was dusting my dresser and I saw the cuff links with the missing ruby. My dust rag faltered, and I stared at the gaping hole in the platinum setting. I suddenly felt like I had a matching hole in my soul.

  “No,” I told Hopper, who was sitting on the bed, undoubtedly weirded out by my frenetic activity. “It’s not gone. I’ll get it back.”

  I could’ve sworn I heard Aunt Tatiana laughing again, and I rushed to the liquor cabinet, intending to take another shot. Sure, it was violating the agreement, but these were unusual circumstances. I was entitled to some leeway to fight against this spirit backlash . . . right?

  No. That was just an excuse, and I’d hold true to Sydney. I wouldn’t lose control. I couldn’t. Everything was fine. I’d told her I’d be strong, that I wouldn’t lapse again. In fact, to prove it to myself, I seized on an impulsive and questionably noble idea: I began emptying my liquor collection down the drain. Part of me winced at the waste, but the rest of me was proud. Now there’d be no temptation.

  Sydney called when I was nearly finished. “Good timing, Sage. I’m just taking care of some housecleaning.”

  She sighed. “I can’t come over. Zoe’s got it into her head that she wants me to help her with this Alchemist database, and she overheard Ms. Terwilliger mention a date—with Wolfe, if you can believe it—so I can’t use her as an excuse. I’m sorry.”

  I was glad she couldn’t see my face. “No need to. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. And hey, this just gives me extra time to think of more ways to celebrate.”

  Her laughter was tinged with relief. “How many ways have you thought of already?”

  “Who can count the number of stars in the sky or grains of sand upon the beach? It’s futile.”

  “Oh, Adrian.” The warmth in her voice stirred both my blood and my heart—and made the pain of her absence that much worse. “Tomorrow I’ll come over. I promise.”

  “I’d say I’d count the seconds, but that’s a pretty big number for me.”

  “I’ll count for both of us. I love you.”

  The words were a dagger to my heart, sweet and cruel at the same time. We disconnected, and I stared around at my immaculate apartment with its latest freestyle paintings. On the kitchen counter, Hopper seemed to watch me judgmentally with his golden eyes. What was I going to do with myself now? It was embarrassing that I even had to ask that kind of question, like I was some child who required others to enter
tain him. But the canvas held no more interest for me, and I suddenly felt awake and wired. I had another night of insomnia ahead of me.

  I put Supertramp on the record player and flounced onto my bed to read The Great Gatsby. I couldn’t focus, though. I was too restless, too keyed up over Sydney and the usual questions about where my life was going. She and I were caught up in this dangerous game that had no end in sight. There was no clear direction on anything else either. What would happen after Jill left Palm Springs? Would I follow her? Would I stay to finish my art degree? And then what? Rowena always joked about limited career options, but she wasn’t that far off from the truth. Tossing aside the book, I draped a hand over my eyes and tried to still the hamster wheel in my mind. Aunt Tatiana returned.

  Why are you worrying about such things? It doesn’t suit you. Just live in the moment.

  “Go away,” I said aloud. “You’re not here, and I’m not engaging with a figment of my imagination. I’m not that far gone. Besides . . . I have a future to think about with Sydney. I have my own future to think about.”

  You’ll get by, that damned voice said. You always do. Your smile and charm will get you out of any situation. Forget all this brooding.

  Some reasonable part reminded me that this conversation was only imagined, brought on by a rebound of spirit. And yet, I found myself arguing back. “No. I’m not going to keep going moment to moment without any regard for the consequences. No more impulsive decisions. I’m done with that phase in my life.”

  Then why did you sell my ruby?

  I opened my eyes. Undefinable emotions churned within me, and I didn’t know what I was going to do, only that I had to do something or else I’d explode. I had to get out of my own head. I had to get out of here. “No more. I’m done with this. I’m done with you.”

  Scrambling out of bed, I went back to the living room to find where I’d discarded my cell phone. It was lying next to my uncapped oil paints. I scooped it up and dialed Rowena back.

  “Yo,” I said. “You guys still there?”

  CHAPTER 10

  SYDNEY

  I’D JUST GOTTEN INTO BED WHEN SOMEONE showed up at our door, knocking as furiously as one dared at a time of the night when the dorm was supposed to be asleep. Zoe, who had just drifted off, sat bolt upright and stifled a small scream, no doubt expecting a swarm of bat-winged vampires to come swooping in. I stalked across the room in trepidation, unsure of what madness I’d find.

  It was Jill.

  “Hey,” she said, strolling in like it wasn’t almost midnight. “I need a favor.”

  The presumption in her voice was so like Angeline’s, I had to blink a couple of times to make sure I had the right person. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “It’s not that late. Well, not for our kind. We’re just getting started.” Her sly tone and the small laugh that followed made Zoe clench the covers tighter. It made me raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “And that’s the problem,” Jill continued with a pout. “I know we were just at Clarence’s yesterday . . . but you wouldn’t believe how much I’m craving blood. Like, I can’t stop thinking about it. You have to take me over there right now, or I don’t think I can handle it!”

  I studied her for a long moment, running a number of scenarios through my head, each one increasingly crazy. Before I had a chance to respond, Zoe spoke up. “It’s after-hours. You can’t leave the dorm.”

  “Sydney could get me out,” Jill said. “Just call your teacher and tell her you want to do some late night studying off campus. She’ll do anything for you. Come on. Please?”

  Zoe gulped, indignation warring with fear. “We can’t just jump on your whims. And Ms. Terwilliger’s busy tonight. We heard her earlier.”

  “This isn’t a whim! It’s a necessity. I wouldn’t bother you guys if it wasn’t serious.” Jill put her hands on her hips for emphasis. “Things are worse because I’m trapped in a building filled with humans. Do you know what kind of temptation that is?” She glanced meaningfully between the two of us.

  “She’s right, Zoe,” I said, deadpan. “Abandoning her in this state could be dangerous to other humans. It’s part of our job to prevent that. Besides, Ms. Terwilliger’s probably back.” Provided she wasn’t staying the night at Wolfe’s. Ew. “Even if she’s not, she’ll still call me in a favor to the front desk.”

  “She would?” asked Zoe, momentarily forgetting vampire threats.

  Jill grinned, giving us a full-on view of her fangs. “See? No problem. Let’s do this.” She turned toward the door. “You guys should get moving.”

  I put on a stern look. “I’m the only one coming with you. Aside from the fact that Ms. Terwilliger can’t get everyone out of school, I just don’t think . . .” I paused as long and melodramatically as I could stomach. “Well, Zoe, I’d just feel better if you stayed here. I mean, we still need an Alchemist on campus, right?” I tried to make that last statement sound upbeat while simultaneously shooting her a It’s for your own protection look. She gulped.

  “Sydney, you’ll be at Clarence’s in the middle of the night—”

  “Everything’ll be fine,” I assured her, hoping I looked both terrified and brave. It wasn’t that hard to pull off, considering my anxiety was growing by leaps and bounds. What was going on? Whatever progress Eddie had made with reassuring Zoe in her driving lessons had probably been undone by Jill acting like the bride of Dracula. I reached for my coat and purse. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

  Jill cleared her throat and nodded at my clothes. “You might want to change. I mean, you know, Clarence is a formal guy.”

  I wasn’t in full-fledged pajamas, but I’d figured my oversized shirt and flannel pants would be fine for whatever ulterior plan Jill had—because I knew there must be one. “What exactly do you suggest I wear?” I asked carefully.

  She shrugged. “Jeans and a T-shirt should be fine.”

  I made a quick change, uttered more courageous procla-mations to Zoe, and then followed Jill down to the end of my hall, near the stairwell. I lowered my voice once I was certain we had privacy.

  “Okay. What’s with the act? I’ve got two prevailing theories. One is that the bond has overridden you and made you act out some crazy impulse of Adrian’s. The other is that you’re helping him get me to sneak off on some romantic escapade—but I’m guessing you would have had me put on a dress for that one.”

  Jill made no attempts at a smile. “I wish it were either of those. Sorry if I was over the top back there. I figured me rampaging for blood would be serious enough for Zoe to let you go without too many questions—and that she wouldn’t want to go with you. I feel kind of bad for freaking her out, though.”

  “It worked. But seriously . . . what’s going on?” My chest tightened. “Is Adrian okay?”

  “I don’t know,” she said morosely. “But probably not, since the bond numbed out when they started doing Jäger shots a half hour ago.”

  “When they—wait. What?”

  “Adrian’s at some bar by Carlton. He went out after you canceled tonight—but don’t feel bad about that,” she added quickly. “I know you didn’t have a choice.”

  “I don’t feel bad. I feel . . .” How did you pick only one emotion for this sort of situation? My mind reeled. Adrian. Out at a bar, so drunk he’d shorted out the spirit in the bond. I wanted to crumple to the floor and bury my face in my hands as a million sensations ran through me. Sadness. Anger. Disappointment. They were just the beginning of the feelings threatening to burst from my heart. I put on a stoic face. “Well. It doesn’t matter what I feel. That’s his choice, and I don’t need to do anything about it. He can deal with the consequences tomorrow.”

  I started to turn around, but Jill caught my arm. “Sydney, please. Things are usually pretty bad if I lose him like this. And he had a rough time in Dallas yesterday. Really rough. You wouldn’t believe how much power he used.” She shuddered at the memory.

  “Don’t say ‘it’s not his fault,’
” I warned.

  “I won’t . . . but I’m not surprised this happened after all that spirit. Look, you have every right to be upset. I know he broke your deal, but please go to him. Just to help. I’m so worried about him.”

  It was hard. The reason I was having so much trouble identifying an emotion was that I was just starting to freeze up all over, refusing to feel anything. Because if I did, I was going to have to accept that Adrian had betrayed me. Well, maybe “betrayal” wasn’t the right word. But he’d definitely let me down. If anyone but Jill had told me Adrian had lapsed, I wouldn’t have believed it. He’d seemed so adamant that night I’d dumped out his liquor, and I’d put all my faith in him.

  “Okay,” I said. The pleading look in her eyes nearly made me cry then and there. “Where’s he at?”

  She gave me the name of the bar and then returned to her room. Downstairs, I found one of the night clerks working the lobby. She was familiar with me and Ms. Terwilliger’s errands and barely listened as I explained how I’d get retroactive permission to leave. Waving me on, she returned to her copy of Vogue and smothered a yawn with her hand.

  The Matchbox wasn’t exactly divey, but it also wasn’t the kind of pretty, trendy place I knew Adrian liked to frequent. Still, it served alcohol and was chock-full of college kids, which were probably his only criteria. A bouncer let me in at the door, stamping my hand in red to show I was under twenty-one, and then nodded me inside. Music from some local band blasted through the air, and for a moment, there were just too many people and too much movement for me to focus on anything.

  When I was finally able to get my bearings, I didn’t see any sign of Adrian. What I did see, however, was a table of laughing people that had “art students” written all over them. Taking a chance, I walked over and waited for someone to notice me. Empty glasses and pitchers filled the table. When someone finally saw me, I asked, “Do you guys by chance know Adrian?”