The Fiery Heart b-4

by Richelle Mead

  “I wanted to see the spells,” said Jill. She gave me a long, appraising look. “And I wanted to talk to you.”

  “How did you know we were—” I stopped. Of course. Along with everything else, the bond had been restored. Jill was in sync with me again, and judging from the haggard look on her face, she was being dragged along with my wild moods.

  “Adrian,” she said softly. “You need to sleep.”

  “I can’t. And you know why. I can’t risk missing her. She has to sleep, and I have to be awake to catch her.”

  “You’ve been trying for days. It’s time to admit something’s wrong. Something’s blocking you.”

  She had a point, but I didn’t want to admit to it. I wanted to believe that if I just tried a little harder or caught the right moment, I’d reach Sydney. I’d spoken to Lissa in a dream recently when she’d reported no luck with the Alchemists, so I knew I still possessed the ability.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said obstinately. “Jackie’s going to find her. She’ll pull this off. You’ve got two things you can do, right?”

  Jackie nodded. “One can only be done at this time of the moon. The other can be done almost any time . . . it just requires an extensive expenditure of magic and some rare ingredients I was out of. It took time to get them again.”

  “Then let’s do this.”

  The dark moon one had to be done outdoors. She’d set up an altar covered in incense and other components, and we kept our distance, waiting in tense silence. It was nothing but unintelligible words and gestures to us, and I found myself thinking of the times I’d been with Sydney when Jackie had worked magic. Sydney could sense it, and there’d always be a catch in her breath and wonder in her eyes as she watched her mentor. I felt nothing, only a war of hope and fear within me.

  When Jackie finally rose and returned to us, she shook her head sadly. “Nothing. I’m sorry. Let’s try the other.”

  She cast the other one inside, a spectacular feat that created a large spinning disc in midair. The power it required nearly made her pass out, and I caught her as she started to collapse. “Still nothing.” It was only then, seeing her on the verge of tears, that I understood just how deeply she cared about Sydney. “I thought one of these would work. But all I get is a dark wall.” We helped her back to the living room, and I dug through her kitchen for food. One thing I’d learned was that depleted magic users needed calories. “I had a similar experience when my sister was in a coma.”

  Jill flinched. “Do you think Sydney is? Would they have hurt her?”

  “I don’t know enough about it or their methods,” said Jackie, gratefully taking a glass of apple juice from me. “I’m still certain she’s alive, but that’s it.”

  I sat back on the love seat and shifted into a dream trance. It seemed unlikely I’d reach anything if Jackie hadn’t, but I had to try. As I’d feared, there was just more darkness. It was getting hard to tell where hers ended and mine began.

  When I came back, the others were watching me with grim looks. “Go home, Adrian,” said Jill. “Get some rest. You’re of more use to her if you’re at full strength.”

  “I’m no use to her,” I said.

  When I’d been with Sydney, whether it was in the heat of passion or simply sitting around and talking, I hadn’t thought it was possible for my heart to hold any more love. Now, I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to hold any more despair. No, not just my heart. Every part of me grieved so much. People used to tease me about alcohol poisoning, but this was the real stuff, the toxin that would finally win.

  And speaking of alcohol . . . for the first time in a month, I wanted a drink. I wanted a lot of drinks. I wanted to drink until I passed out into my own darkness, until I was beyond feeling because I couldn’t go on for another moment feeling like this. It would numb me from spirit and the ability to dream, but at this point, the dreams I had weren’t helping Sydney anyway.

  “Don’t,” said Jill, guessing my thoughts. She came over to sit beside me. “There’s still hope.”

  “Is there?” I leaned against her shoulder, wondering how she could still feel that way—especially if she had a direct line into my heart.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Hopper lying on an end table. I’d left him here after the night Sydney had been taken, which had been bad form on my part. “What’ll happen to him?” I asked Jackie. “Is there any way you can bring him back?”

  Her eyes fell on the glittering dragon. “No. She’s the only one who can summon him. Keeping him around you, even in this form, might help, but if he ever comes out of this state, he’ll be weak and sick. Of course, after the year is up, he’ll fade back to his realm anyway . . . but it’s a miserable, trapped state to be in for that long.”

  “I know how he feels,” I muttered. Too bad I couldn’t take Hopper out drinking with me. He could have become Bar Hopper.

  Eddie stared at Hopper with contempt, but I suspected it was for himself, not the dragon. “I’m so stupid,” he muttered. It was a refrain I’d heard from him a lot. “I never should have believed it. I shouted that ‘spell’ over and over in that field, and all I did was give them more time to get away with her.”

  “She was just protecting you,” said Jill.

  “It was my job to protect her,” he growled.

  Jackie finished off her juice and turned to a package of cookies. “What spell did she tell you to recite?”

  Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Cent . . . centrum permanebit. Is it even a real spell?”

  “Not that I know of.” Jackie gave him a sympathetic look he didn’t even really notice. “But if it makes you feel better, it is Latin. A lot of spells use that language.”

  “What’s it mean?” asked Jill. I was still leaning into her, but my mind was wandering to an analysis of nearby bars. Downtown’s were nicer, but I might run into people I knew if I went to Carlton. Did I want to be alone or not?

  “Well, centrum means center,” said Jackie. “Permanebit is a future tense verb. ‘Remains’ is one translation. Or maybe ‘endures.’ Together it’d be something like, ‘the center will endure.’”

  I jerked my head up. “Hold,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “The center will hold.”

  Sydney’s last words. Not for Eddie, but for me.

  The last of my self-control shattered, and I abruptly stood. Jill reached for me. “Adrian . . .”

  “I’ll see you guys later.” I moved toward the door, pausing to scoop up Hopper and put him in my jacket.

  The center will hold.

  Will it, Sydney? I wondered. Because I’m falling apart.

  “Where are you going?” asked Eddie.

  “Out,” I said. “Escape plan number eighty-two: Go some-where where I don’t have to feel anything for a while.”

  He exchanged a worried look with Jill and asked, “When are you coming back?”

  Centrum permanebit.

  I shook my head and turned away. “It doesn’t matter.”

  CHAPTER 24

  SYDNEY

  IT WAS THE COLD THAT FINALLY WOKE ME UP. I’d been going in and out of a dark, dreamless haze for an indefinable amount of time, and I had no idea how long it had been since I was in the van with my family. Judging from my dry mouth and groggy mind, there was still some drug kicking around in my body, but they must have lifted it enough to let me finally grasp at consciousness.

  The floor I was lying on was a rough, uneven concrete that held no warmth and was made even more uncomfortable because it was damp. It added to the chill seeping into my bones, and I slowly and awkwardly managed a sitting position, so that I could wrap my arms around myself in a weak attempt to hold in body heat. The damp cell couldn’t be any more than fifty degrees, and the fact that I was naked wasn’t helping matters.

  The room was also black. Pitch-black. I’d been in darkness before, but this was impenetrable. There was nothing, not even a whisper of light, that my eyes could adjust to. That blackness was nearly tangib
le, heavy and smothering. I had to rely on my other senses to get any idea of my setting, and from the ominous silence, my hearing wasn’t going to do me any favors.

  My teeth began to chatter, and I drew my knees up to my body, wincing as the harsh floor scraped my skin. I huddled into a ball as best I could, scarcely able to believe I’d just been in a desert. How long ago had that been? I had no clue, nor did I know where I was now. The drug they’d given me had stopped the passage of time. It could’ve been days or minutes since my abduction.

  “Hello, Sydney.”

  The voice came without warning, seemingly from every part of the cell, echoing off the walls. It was female, but there was a synthesized quality to it, like she was speaking through a filter. I said nothing but lifted my head up and stared straight ahead unflinchingly. If this room was equipped with a fancy sound system, then they probably had some sort of night vision cameras that let them view me. The Alchemists might try to cut off my senses, but they would certainly make sure they had every advantage for themselves.

  “Do you know where you are?” the voice asked.

  I had to swallow a few times before my tongue would form words again. “Being held by a bunch of sick voyeurs who get their kicks out of locking up a naked girl?”

  “You’re the one who’s sick, Sydney.” The voice had no emotion whatsoever. “The darkness that surrounds you is nothing compared to the darkness that’s defiled your soul. We’re here to help you expel it.”

  “I don’t suppose you could help me to clothes and a blanket?”

  “You’re being reborn into the world, cold and naked, given a new chance to save yourself.”

  I rested my head on my knees again and didn’t reply. They could dress it up with as many metaphors as they wanted, but I was perfectly aware that this sort of deprivation was a psychological technique to try to crack me. The voice’s next words confirmed as much.

  “The more cooperative you are in your salvation, the more comfortable we’ll make your stay.”

  As though on cue, my stomach rumbled, again making me wonder how much time had passed. “Keep your comfort. I don’t need to be saved.”

  “Everything you came in with has been destroyed, with one exception. It’s a sign of our goodwill. We aren’t doing this to be cruel. We want to help you.”

  I stayed silent.

  “The item is in your cell if you want it,” the voice added.

  It was already starting: the Alchemist’s mind games. I hadn’t known what to expect from re-education. The reason it was kept so shrouded in mystery was undoubtedly to inspire fear. Mental and physical torture seemed like obvious conclusions, though. If you wanted to remold people, you had to break them down first.

  The voice didn’t say anything else, and I vowed not to play into this ploy. And yet, the longer I sat there, the more curious I became. What item were they trying to tempt me with? If there really was one. I knew I shouldn’t indulge them. I knew defiance was the best course. But that curiosity continued to gnaw at me, and I really didn’t know what else was in this room. Exploration wouldn’t hurt.

  I stood up, surprised to find how weak my legs were. I felt a little light-headed, but in the darkness, I at least had no sense of the room spinning. Cautiously, I moved forward, hands outstretched. It didn’t take me long to hit a wall. The surface was as cold as everything else in here, but the texture was smoother, with lines etched into it as though they were bricks or tiles. Compartments for the speakers and cameras?

  My survey was brief. The cell appeared to be about twelve by eight feet. There was no obvious door. A small toilet and sink sat openly in a corner, no doubt meant to increase the humiliation of this experiment. Groping around, I managed to turn on the faucet. The water that came out was one step away from ice, but it didn’t smell or taste strange, and I cupped some in my hands to drink, suddenly feeling parched. Near the sink, embedded in the wall, was a small hand-soap dispenser that smelled antiseptic. I nearly smiled. Even amid prisons and torture, the Alchemists had to maintain their hygienic standards.

  When I found nothing else, I returned to my original spot on the floor. “Well played,” I said. “I guess you got me.”

  Nothing. After several seconds, I had the idea to start feeling around on the floor. I knew they were watching and I had to push my self-consciousness away as I crawled around, running my hands over every rough inch. In the end, though, the only thing it yielded me was painful knees.

  “There’s nothing here,” I said. “Hope you at least enjoyed the show. I’ve been working out.”

  Brilliant light suddenly flared before me, and after all that blackness, I cried out and covered my eyes from the shock of it.

  “It hurts, doesn’t it?” the voice asked. “After living in darkness, it’s hard to return to the light.”

  It took a long time for me to adjust. Even when I was able to remove my hands, I still had to squint. I peered ahead of me and saw that the light was coming from a square in the wall. As I’d suspected, there seemed to be several compartments embedded within the wall. This one’s surface was made of glass, allowing me to look inside. It was small but still large enough to hold those blinding lights—

  —and Adrian’s cross.

  The defiance I’d tried to maintain started to crumble, and I quickly caught myself, knowing I couldn’t show my feelings on my face. Nonetheless, I couldn’t hold back from trailing my fingertips along the glass surface as I stared achingly at the cross. They hadn’t done anything to it. The small wooden cross was exactly the same, painted with delicate blue morning glories, strung onto its fine chain.

  “You have no right to wear such a holy symbol,” the voice said. “But we took it as an optimistic sign that you even carry an item like this at all. It tells us that no matter how far you’ve fallen, how corrupted you’ve become, some part of you longs to return to purity and the righteous path.”

  “I’m already on that path,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the cross. “I’ve been on it for a long time.”

  “No. You’ve strayed from it and debased yourself. You’ve become enmeshed in an unholy, twisted world that runs contrary to all the rules of nature and salvation. When you can admit that, when you can confess your sins, you may have your cross back.”

  My hand, still pressed on the glass, twitched with the need to touch the cross, to have some piece of Adrian to cling to. The coldness that still tormented me momentarily lost its hold as thoughts of him flooded my mind and heart. Adrian, with his easy smile and his breathtaking green eyes. Adrian, his arms holding me tight and keeping me close to his heart. Adrian, fighting through the torment within him to do the right thing. Adrian, with his unfailing faith in me.

  If I could have the cross, if I could have that connection . . . then surely the obstacles and distance between us would mean nothing. Surely I could endure whatever torturous challenges they threw at me.

  This is one of them, I realized. This carrot they’re holding out. They wanted me to take the cross. If I gave in, if I acknowledged their accusations, I wouldn’t be closer to Adrian. No matter how much I wanted the cross, accepting it would mean I was going against him, turning my back on all I’d worked so hard for. Slowly, painfully, I withdrew my hand and clenched it into a fist. I needed no physical object to remind me of his love. I already carried it in my heart, and it would be enough to get through this.

  “I have nothing to confess,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “You have everything to confess,” said the voice. “But you only need to start small. Take one step on the path to redemption. Say, ‘I have sinned against my own kind and let my soul become corrupted. I am ready to have the darkness purged.’ Say those words, and things will become much easier for you. You can have your cross. You can have a blanket. You can have food. One way or another, we will purge that darkness, but if you are uncooperative, you will find the methods we must sadly resort to will be . . . unpleasant.”

  A bubble of fear rose in
me, and I staunchly pushed it down. I gave the cross one last, hungry look and tried to focus not on the object itself but the love in Adrian’s eyes when he’d given it to me. I turned away and walked to the other side of the room.

  “I have nothing to confess,” I repeated.

  “Then you leave us no choice,” said the voice. “That disappoints us and makes us very, very sad.”

  The light went out in the box, plunging the cross—and me—into darkness. My head started to feel fuzzy, and I realized they were somehow getting that drug into my system again, dragging me back into a dreamless world. Had it been the water?

  One way or another, we will purge that darkness, but if you are uncooperative, you will find the methods we must sadly resort to will be . . . unpleasant.

  “All right,” I managed to say, just before I crumpled to the floor. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The Fiery Heart is a new venture for me, seeing as it’s the first time we’ve truly followed two characters in the Moroi world. It was an exciting project to work on, and I couldn’t have done it without the support of many, many people. Thank you so much to my family and friends, particularly my wonderful husband and son, for their constant love and cheerleading. Many thanks are also due to the amazing publishing team who makes these books possible: my literary agent extraordinaire, Jim McCarthy of Dystel and Goderich, and my uber-patient Razorbill editor, Jessica Almon. Lastly, thank you to my wonderful readers, who constantly inspire me to write. We’re in the middle of a series, so you know things are going to get rough for the characters, but hang in there! It’ll be worth it.

  ONE

  I FELT HER FEAR BEFORE I heard her screams.

  Her nightmare pulsed into me, shaking me out of my own dream, which had had something to do with a beach and some hot guy rubbing suntan oil on me. Images—hers, not mine—tumbled through my mind: fire and blood, the smell of smoke, the twisted metal of a car. The pictures wrapped around me, suffocating me, until some rational part of my brain reminded me that this wasn’t my dream.