Текст книги "The Fiery Heart"

Автор книги: Richelle Mead

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

“There’s no real incantation for this,” she said, sprinkling the dirt on my palm in the appropriate pattern. “It’s one of those that’s more meditative. Only you aren’t trying to accomplish any concrete result so much as connect with the dirt’s essence. What do you think of when you think of dirt?”

“To not wear white.”

Her lips twitched, but she stayed on track. “Shift yourself into a casting trance and think of all that earth is in the world and even the role it plays in the spells you know.”

I was familiar with casting trances, but simply using it to commune with a substance was a bit more difficult. Nonetheless, I closed my eyes and focused my breathing, entering an odd state where my mind felt both clear and concentrated. The dirt was cool in my hand, and I envisioned damp, mist‑covered forests, like one of the redwood parks up north, where trees anchored themselves in the earth and the smell of wet dirt hung everywhere. Dirt itself wasn’t always present in spells, but many things that hid within it were: jewels and plants and–

“Open your eyes,” said Ms. Terwilliger softly.

I did and saw a faint luminescence surrounding my hand holding the dirt.

“Try to put it in your other hand and hold it.”

The light had no substance, and I had to contain it with my mind. I tipped my hand, and it poured into my other one. The glow began to slip out between my fingers, dissipating into the air as it did. I closed my hand, trying to grasp those last shreds of light.

The door to her classroom opened, and I jumped, losing all mental hold of the remaining light. It vanished.

“Sydney?” Zoe stuck her head in.

“Come in, Miss Ardmore,” said Ms. Terwilliger coolly, shutting the book without looking down. “Although, please, next time, do us the courtesy of knocking.”

Zoe flushed at the rebuke. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. I was just excited to see Sydney.” She wasn’t offended so much as embarrassed. Like me, she’d been raised with very strict rules of etiquette and politeness. Her eyes lighted on the desktop. Ms. Terwilliger had made sure the book’s unmarked back cover faced upward, but my dirty hands were right there in the open. “What are you doing?”

Ms. Terwilliger scooped up the book and bowl and walked over to her desk, as I wiped my hands together. “Being silly and sentimental. I collected some dirt outside the Parthenon on my trip to Greece last summer and saved it as a souvenir. I was enchanted with the idea of holding on to something that had been present throughout the advancement of a great civilization.”

It was far‑fetched but a lot less weird than using the dirt to extract the magic of earth’s essence. I swallowed and tried to run with the story. “Yeah, and you know how I want to go to Greece, Zo. I wondered if maybe touching it would give me some connection to history.” My laugh was brittle. “But it just felt like dirt.”

Ms. Terwilliger joined me with a chuckle of her own. “You and I are both given to romantic flights of fancy, Miss Melrose. Someday you’ll just have to visit for yourself. For now, this will simply return to my collection.” She reverently set the bowl on her filing cabinet. I’d seen her fill it with dirt from one of Amberwood’s flower beds when we’d come inside earlier.

Zoe had a frown on her face, but she finally nodded because really, what else was she going to do? “Okay . . . well. Since school’s over, I wondered if you wanted to go run errands with me. We haven’t been able to hang out much, and I need new shoes for PE. The ones I brought are worn out. No one else needs us tonight.” The subtext was clear to me. There were no feedings at Clarence’s, and Jill was staying at the school, safely ensconced.

I could sense Ms. Terwilliger watching me, waiting for my cue. If I claimed I had to do some project for her, she’d agree. But Zoe was right about one thing: We hadn’t spent much time together. Not only was that making my time away suspicious, it was also hurting my relationship with Zoe. She was still my sister, after all, and I loved her. I wanted to have a good relationship with her. I wanted things to be like they used to be, though that seemed to become increasingly unlikely with each passing day. At least a trip to the mall seemed normal and sisterly on the surface, even if it didn’t feel that way in my gut.

“You’re lucky,” Zoe said as we neared the mall. The car’s blind‑spot detection had just chimed. “It always tells you when there’s a car there. In driver’s training, we always had to check blind spots ourselves. Those cars were junk.”

I couldn’t help a laugh. “You should always check, whether you’re driving junk or not. I usually see the other cars before it warns me.”

She gave a mournful sigh. “I wish I could drive. I just got my permit back in Utah.”

“You can’t drive without a parent there or in California,” I reminded her.

“Yeah.” She slouched into her seat, looking very much like an ordinary girl, not one part of an ancient and world‑spanning organization that covered up the supernatural. “Maybe someone could mess with the paperwork and get you legal guardian status. I mean, how else am I supposed to get a license? Unless someone just makes ‘Zoe Ardmore’ a fake one. I’m a good enough driver.”

“You’ll have to ask Dad,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. It actually wouldn’t be that difficult to work some Alchemist connections to make that kind of thing happen. If we did it without checking with our dad first, we’d probably be chastised, and if we did ask . . . well, something told me he’d probably think it was superfluous. “If he hasn’t brought it up, then he probably just wants you to focus on learning other stuff. Our job takes priority.”

She couldn’t argue against that. After a long moment of staring out at other cars, she said, “Speaking of priorities . . . have you ever thought that maybe what you’re doing with Ms. Terwilliger isn’t appropriate?”

I flinched, even though I knew she couldn’t possibly be talking about magic. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know exactly. It’s just, you’ve already finished high school. You’re here to do Alchemist business, but you seem really into your classes–especially that thing with her. It seems personal too, like you’re just hanging out as friends. I mean, talking about her vacation? It wouldn’t be a big deal if it was just inside class hours, but you’re always doing work for her that doesn’t seem like work. Nothing wrong with wanting friends or social time . . . but you can’t do it at the cost of the assignment. What would Dad say?”

I kept myself very still and thought for long moments before my answer. “You’re right. I do have to be careful. It’s just hard when we talk about Greece, when I want to go there so badly. I love her stories. Still, that’s no excuse. I guess I just forget that when everything’s so quiet with Jill and the others. I’ve got to do something to pass the time, and I certainly can’t spend it with them.”

“You could spend it with me,” she said hopefully.

I glanced at her long enough to give her a smile. “I will. We’ll do more things–not just talking about the assignment. Getting out like this is good. I’ll try to make it happen more often–though I don’t want to act too  uninterested in my classes. I can’t risk getting in trouble for slacking off.” In truth, my teachers thought so highly of me, I could probably skip the rest of the semester.

My story was good enough for Zoe, though, who looked delighted at more sisterly bonding. Most importantly, she didn’t mention our dad again. Like her, he wouldn’t suspect magic, but he also wouldn’t like me having any sort of personal life. I sealed the deal when I told her, “We should stop for ice cream after we get the shoes. See if we can find some praline pecan.”

She grinned at the reference to an old restaurant near where we’d grown up. The menu had always said, “Ask about our daily ice cream special.” But every day, it was always praline pecan. When my dad had pointed this out to the elderly owner, she’d shrugged and said, “I can’t find anything more special. Why change it?” It had become a joke with the rest of us and even a sort of family tradition.

To my amazement, the ice cream at this place was almost as good, and we took our cones out to sit on the curb. As we ate, an idea suddenly came to me. “Are you serious about driving?” I asked her.

The light in her eyes answered before she did. “Yes! Will you try to get me a license?”

I munched on a pecan, my thoughts spinning. “Well, you know, the whole point of a permit is so you can practice before the license.”

“But I don’t need to–”

I gave her a stern older‑sister look. “Rules are rules, and there’s a good reason for them. I can’t expedite the license, but if you want to practice, you could do it on private property–parking lots and things. With a licensed driver,” I added.

She wrestled with the idea and then nodded eagerly. “Okay, I’ll do it. We’ll have fun.”

“Well,” I said delicately. “I may not be able to always practice with you–I’m still tied up with things at school. But we can find someone else.”

“Who?”

Moment of truth. I had two licensed drivers at my disposal: Eddie and Neil. Girls seemed to find Neil’s accent charming, but I wasn’t looking for someone to charm Zoe. I was looking for someone approachable and friendly who’d show her not all dhampirs were evil creatures of the night.

“Eddie,” I said.

Her eyes bugged out. “Eddie? But he’s . . .”

“I know, but he’s a good driver. I mean, if you just want to wait until I have time . . .” I let a meaningful pause settle between us. “I understand. You won’t get as much practice that way, but it’s not like we’re going anywhere for a while.”

Silence fell, and I finished off my cone. My performance had been flawless; I knew that. She had no clue my offer was anything but sisterly concern. Now it was time to see if I was as clever as I thought I was.

I’d been thinking about this for a while, how I might get her to start seeing dhampirs and Moroi in a different light. Her walls were strong, and I knew I couldn’t force her into doing–or rather, believing–something she didn’t want to. But driving? That was something she wanted, and if she could enter into this thinking it had been her own decision, then maybe  there was a chance of cracking those rigid rules she’d been instilled with. It was a small, fleeting hope, but I had to try. After all, that was how it happened to me: a series of events that forced me to work with Moroi and dhampirs and truly get to understand them. That, and I liked to think my ability to think for myself played a role.

“Okay,” Zoe said at last. “I’ll do it. But you will  try to be there most of the time?”

I nodded solemnly. “You bet.”

She relaxed a little and twirled the remains of the cone in her hand. “I guess it’s a good thing he’s dhampir. They look human, at least.”

“Yes,” I said, trying to hide a smile. I’d told myself the same thing when I’d been forced to travel with Rose Hathaway in Russia. Maybe this plan was crazy enough to work. “They certainly do.”

CHAPTER 7

ADRIAN

I WAS WORKING ON THAT STUPID SELF‑PORTRAIT AGAIN.

My latest attempt was about to be discarded, not because of any spirit‑induced pessimism, but because it just wasn’t any good. I mean, it was passable, and I probably could’ve come up with some plausible crap story about symbolism for my teacher. She would’ve bought it, and I could’ve gotten a decent grade. But I’d know the truth. This one was no good.

My mood was  a little touchy today, mostly because I hadn’t slept well. I’d tossed and turned, unable to find deep sleep. Things had been made worse because Sydney wasn’t coming over today. She’d decided to stick around so that she and Zoe could do something immediately after classes ended. I understood the logic of keeping Sage Junior pacified, but that didn’t ease the ache of missing Sydney. At least we were scheduled for Friday dinner at Clarence’s tonight, but it was never the same when others were around.

The phone rang, jolting me out of my maudlin moment. I had to go on a mad search to find where it had slipped between the couch cushions and just barely managed to catch it before voice mail picked up. The caller was a total surprise.

“Your Majesty,” I said grandly.

“Hello, Adrian.” I could tell Lissa was already smiling. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know. The glam life of southern California. Palm trees and movie stars.” I slipped into my flippant mask easily, concealing what was really going on. Lissa wouldn’t have bought it if she were here in person, but over the phone, I was protected.

“Well, I hope you can drag yourself away from it because I have a . . . task for you.”

“Task?” Her word choice and change in tone tipped me off that something big was coming.

“There was another Strigoi restoration.”

Wow, the surprises just kept rolling in. “Who was it? And who the hell did it? You?”

“No–a different spirit user. One we didn’t know about. Her name is Nina Sinclair, and she just restored her sister. Olive.”

“Nina. Olive. Got it. Go on.”

Even I knew this was serious. The only thing even remotely as incredible as bringing someone back from the dead with spirit was restoring them from being a Strigoi. It was pretty difficult to do because it wasn’t just a matter of wielding a lot of spirit. You actually had to make sure the Strigoi was subdued. Then, the spirit user had to stake the Strigoi while working the magic. We directly knew of only three people this had happened to. We also didn’t know very many spirit users, so the discovery of a new one was a big deal.

“I need you to drop everything and go to them,” Lissa said. It wasn’t exactly her throne‑room voice, but it was definitely the kind that didn’t expect an argument. “We need to find out if we can see anything in a newly saved person that might help us understand why they can’t be turned again. Sonya’s in Europe, and I can’t leave Court. You’re the only spirit user who can go and investigate on short notice.”

Now I understood the importance. Strigoi were made by two methods. One was if a Strigoi drained a victim and then gave blood back to him or her. Moroi could also turn by choice if they drained the person they were feeding from. We’d recently discovered that Strigoi who had been restored couldn’t be turned again. No one knew for sure if it was unique to them or if there was some way to use spirit to spread that ability to others. We couldn’t stop a Strigoi from killing someone through other means, but if there was a way to create magical protection to save others from being forced into that undead state, it could revolutionize our world. Sonya and I had worked for almost two months, running all sorts of tests and examinations to see if we could manipulate spirit into whatever it had done for the restored. No luck.

“Drop everything, huh?” I couldn’t help a little bitterness. Even though she knew I was in college, it could apparently be sidelined at a moment’s notice.

She sighed. “I know you’ve got things going on. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t crucial. She’s very recently restored–very recently. Less than twenty‑four hours. If there’s some residual sign of what exactly happened in the process, we can’t waste a moment. We can get you on a flight to Dallas in a few hours. Rose and Dimitri are on their way there now.”

“Really?” At this point, there was really nothing I shouldn’t expect. Spending the weekend with my ex and her Russian warlord was probably just the warm‑up for more shenanigans. “Well, at least he’ll have a chance to stock up on his Western wear.”

I could hear a hint of laughter in her voice. “You know why he has to go.”

I did. Dimitri Belikov was one of the lucky three–well, four now–who’d been restored. He didn’t have the ability to see spirit, but he did have the inside track on what it was like to suddenly “wake up” and realize you’d been a bloodthirsty monster who’d subsisted on the lives of innocents. Even I could appreciate how messed up that would make you. A little counseling from someone who’d gone through it would be useful, to say the least.

“I understand. And of course I’ll go, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t call me that. And don’t tell me you’re doing this just because you’re my subject. I hope you’ll do it because you’re my friend–and because it’s the right thing to do.” There was a plaintive note in her voice. It must be hard, I thought, when people saw you more as a queen than an actual person.

My next words were true. “I’m doing it for all of those reasons, cousin.”

“You haven’t called me that in a while,” she said fondly. We weren’t actually cousins, but it was a term of endearment the royal families often used with one another.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah.” Her voice grew wistful, and I again spared a thought for what it must be like to be a controversial eighteen‑year‑old queen with the weight of a nation thrust on your shoulders. “There wasn’t much time to talk at the wedding. How are you, Adrian? I mean, how are you really?  With Jill . . . and everything . . .”

“You know how it is.” No flippancy. “Some days are better than others. What about you?”

There was a long silence. “The same. I didn’t realize how much Rose was helping me until our bond went away. She was shouldering so much of that darkness. Now it’s all on me. Which is for the best,” she added quickly. “But it’s still hard.”

“I know.” I fully understood the burden of spirit and could only imagine how that would compound the stress of her position. “At least Jill and I haven’t reached that point. She’s safe.”

“For now,” said Lissa. “It took a little while before the darkness started seeping into Rose. If you guys can work on blocking each other, that’ll help out a lot.”

In more ways than one, I thought.

“Yeah, we’re working on that. Not much luck.”

We fell into another moment of silence, but it was comfortable. Even through the phone, there was a warmth and understanding between the two of us about spirit that no one–except Sonya and this Nina girl–could truly ever grasp. Spirit’s price was powerful.

“Queen or not, I’m always here,” Lissa said, her voice soft. “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’ll understand.”

I was glad once again that we were on the phone because I was pretty sure all the strife and emotional turmoil over Sydney would’ve come spilling out. And no matter what Lissa kindheartedly said, I seriously didn’t think she’d understand that.

“Same here, cousin,” I said as gallantly as I could. “Tell me when and where to go, and I’ll be there with bells on.”

“We’ll have the flight info sent to–oh. I nearly forgot. You need to bring one of the dhampirs with you.”

“Did you get a free companion fare or something?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “It’s just safer. If Olive had any connections to other Strigoi–well, you never know if they might come sniffing around. We’re taking precautions. But if it helps, you can pick which one to take.”

That wasn’t even a choice. I was on the verge of saying Eddie when a moment of inspiration struck. “Neil.”

“Neil?” Lissa sounded surprised but didn’t question it. “Okay. We’ll make it happen.”

Maybe getting Mr. Buckingham Palace away from Palm Springs for a couple days would snap some sense into Jill and even Angeline. Sure, Jill would give me grief, but she’d thank me later when she realized she needed to give up on Neil as a distraction and just lay it all out on the line with Eddie.

As soon as I was off the phone with Lissa, I texted Sydney on the Love Phone: Can you talk?  Classes weren’t over yet, so I was hoping she’d be Zoe‑free. Sure enough, I got a call back a minute later.

“What’s up?” she asked, making no effort to hide her worry. “Are you okay?”

“Aside from the fact that that my world is a cold and lonely place when you aren’t around? Yeah, I’m okay. But I’m about to take an unexpected vacation.” I gave her a quick rundown of Nina and Olive.

“Wow,” she said when I finished. “Where are you going?”

“Guess. ‘The stars at night are big and bright . . .’”

There was silence.

“You don’t know that song?” I asked.

“No.”

“I’m going to Texas. Dallas. Maybe I can find a cute cowgirl outfit to bring back to you. Leather fringe, short skirt–”

“Just bring yourself back,” she said. But there was amusement in her voice. The line between exasperation and adoration was pretty thin with us sometimes. “When do you leave?”

“Lissa made it sound like a few hours, which probably means I’ll need to actually get to the airport soon. She’s still got to send me the information and have someone get in touch with Neil.” I was certain he wouldn’t warrant a personal royal call. Not like some people.

“Well, be careful . . . but wow, what an opportunity.” I could hear her shifting into intellectual mode. Well, she was always in that mode, but some moments were stronger than others. “I’d kind of given up on being able to find any way to prevent people turning.”

“It’s not a done deal,” I reminded her. “There may not be anything to see. Or I may not be able to find it.” The gravity of what was being placed on my shoulders began to settle in. This mystery had consumed some of the best and brightest minds over the last few months. Now, we had a huge lead . . . and it was up to me  to examine it? Who was I to unlock spirit’s secrets? Sonya was better suited to this.

“If it can be done, you can do it,” Sydney said, guessing my insecurity. “I believe in you.”

“You have to say that because you’re my girlfriend.”

“I have to say it because it’s the truth.”

Later, as I packed a hasty overnight bag, I almost wished Sydney hadn’t called. Actually speaking to her just made our parting more bittersweet. Never–not even when I was obsessed with Rose–had I thought I’d be so far gone for a girl. A couple days away, and I plunged into despair. It was ironic since there’d been girls in the past that I kind of wished would stay away for a couple of days. Okay, a lot of days. It all seemed crazy, but then, I was crazy for Sydney.

Lissa sent along my travel info, and I took a taxi over to the airport. Sydney would’ve killed me if I left the Ivashkinator in the long‑term parking garage. I was supposed to meet Neil at our airline’s desk and spotted him right away, with his height and rigid posture. And, to my surprise, a shorter blond figure stood beside him. Sydney turned at my approach, a cool Alchemist expression on her face.

“Why, Sage Senior,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like I wanted to throw her up against a wall and kiss her. “Did they draft you for this crazy adventure too?”

“Sydney was nice enough to give me a ride,” said Neil obliviously.

“That was nice of you,” I agreed, trying to sound as condescending as possible. “Figured you and your sister would be off doing top secret color coding. Or whatever it is you guys do for fun.”

Sydney crossed her arms and put on a stern look. “We rescheduled it so that I could make sure you guys got on your flight. I had to come in and see for myself that you showed up. This is serious, you know.”

I shrugged. “If you say so.”

She managed to look like a perfect, pissed‑off Alchemist. Now I wanted to kiss her more than ever.

“We don’t have time for you guys to argue,” said Neil. “And this is  serious.” He glanced over at a monitor, and in that brief moment, Sydney met my eyes. A hint of a smile curved at her lips, vanishing just as Neil faced us again. “Time to go. We need to check in.”

She nodded, just as businesslike as him. “Safe travels, and good luck.”

“We make our own luck, Sage.”

That nearly broke her act. It was an old joke between us, and I was glad Neil was too distracted to notice any interpersonal cues or body language. She and I were standing a healthy distance apart, but I was fully conscious of every inch between us and every detail of her body. To anyone else passing by, it was probably completely obvious that we were seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off.

She bid us farewell and left without a backward glance, but as I got in line to check in, my phone buzzed with a text: I love you.

On such short notice, we had to fly coach. Keeping me away from the temptation of complimentary liquor was probably just as well, since I’d need a clear head to tune in to spirit. Neil, mercifully, was a quiet companion, and I tried to distract myself by reading The Great Gatsby. Sydney had been horrified to discover my home library consisted of a bartending dictionary and an old copy of Esquire, and at her pleading, I’d promised to read something more substantial. I was trying to think deep thoughts as I read Gatsby, but mostly I wanted to throw some parties.

Nina and Olive were being kept at a safe house on the far outskirts of Dallas, with few neighbors to notice the odd sight of guardians patrolling the property. We parked our rental car in the driveway, and through the window, I recognized a familiar figure sitting on the porch’s chair swing, her feet up propped up on the railing. A prickle of anxiety ran through me.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered.

Rose stood up as we stepped onto the porch. For a moment, I was transported to our first meeting over a year ago, also on a porch. That one had been covered in snow, attached to a posh ski resort. Her beauty had taken my breath away then, and now, after all this time, I still wasn’t unaffected. Her long, dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and there was a fire in her brown eyes that was both dangerous and alluring. That same mix radiated from her body, even in a casual pose and wearing jeans.

And yet, though I admired her, I didn’t feel the old attraction or even pain. Sure, there was always going to be a sting from the insensitive way she’d botched up our brief relationship, but my heart no longer raced at the sight of her. I didn’t feel the devastation of having the love of my life ripped away. I didn’t even hate her anymore. Mostly, I found myself thinking of Sydney, with her lithe legs crossed underneath her as she studied books on my bed, the golden sunlight illuminating her face when she looked up to give me a knowing smile.

“You made good time,” I said by way of greeting. “Did Belikov bend the rules of time and space to get here so fast? He can do that, right?” The Moroi Royal Court was in Pennsylvania, making for a much longer trip than mine had been.

Rose smiled at that, though I could sense a little wariness in her as well. She wasn’t sure what to expect from me and was afraid I might do something that would cause a scene. I couldn’t blame her. It was probably why she was receiving me here before letting me into the volatile situation inside.

“No need to today. We got really, really lucky and got on a flight the instant we heard about this. And we only just got here about an hour ago.” She shook Neil’s hand. “I’m Rose.”

“Neil,” he said, with a formal bow of his head. “It’s a great honor to meet you. Your heroics with Dimitri Belikov are legendary.”

“Um, thanks,” she said. It was nice to see one woman finally immune to that accent. That wasn’t to say Rose wasn’t a sucker for accents. She just preferred hers from the other side of Europe. “He’s inside if you want to meet him.”

Neil lit up. “That’d be wonderful.” He cast an uncertain look at me, and I waved him off.

“Go, go. I’ll be fine. Besides, this is Rose’s not‑so‑subtle way of saying she wants to talk to me alone. Go do some hero worship.”

Neil didn’t need to be told twice. She watched him with amusement and then turned back to me, sobering a little. “I also figured you’d want a cigarette. Must have been rough going, what, three hours?” she teased.

“Three hours? Hell, Rose. I’m going on about six weeks.”

The complete shock on her face was one of the best things I’d seen all day. To be fair, her surprise wasn’t entirely unwarranted. I’d kind of quit while dating her, though I’d cracked a few times and then completely relapsed afterward. “You . . . quit?”

I put my hands in my coat pockets and leaned against the railing. “It’s a bad habit.”

“Wow . . . well, good for you.” She overcame her amazement and apparently decided to further assess my new respectability. “And I heard you’re in college too?”

“Yup. Taking some art classes. Just finished a project examining the symbolic evolution from the Australopithecus  age to the one of superficial media obsession.” The words rolled easily off my tongue, and I wondered how many hot points that would’ve scored me if Sydney were here.

“Wow,” Rose said again, her eyes widening.

I played it cool. “Just a little something I threw together. But let’s focus on business. What am I going to find inside?”

She snapped instantly back to attention. “About what I saw in Lexington when Robert Doru saved Sonya. An exhausted spirit user and a confused patient. Dimitri’s been talking to Olive, which seems to have helped already, and I’m sure Nina will feel better having you around.”

It was a nice setup for making some joke about how all women loved having me around, but I decided to withhold my stunning wit until I’d seen things with my own eyes. “How’d you find out about this?”

“A guardian called us. I guess Nina had been looking for her sister for a long time and used a guardian friend to create this whole elaborate trap to restore Olive.” Rose’s face turned sympathetic. “But Nina wasn’t prepared for the physical and mental toll it took on both of them. That’s when the guardian called for help. It all happened less than twenty‑four hours ago.”

“Explaining the urgency,” I murmured. Everyone really had acted quickly. “Well, we’ll see what I can find. Spirit’s fickle.”

“Yeah, believe me, I know. I miss that connection with Lissa, but I don’t miss living with spirit.” She tilted her head to study me. “How are things with Jill?”

I gave her the same answer I had given Lissa. “The same. Not much of the nasty side effects getting to her, but we also haven’t learned to put barriers between us. So she still gets to experience the awesome adventures of Adrian Ivashkov firsthand.”

“I’m a little worried about how ‘awesome’ they are.” Her dubious look transformed to one of horror. “Oh, God, Adrian. You aren’t working your way through every Moroi girl in southern California, are you?”