Текст книги "The Fiery Heart"

Автор книги: Richelle Mead

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

“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 entertain 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?”

A guy laughed. “Sure do. He’s the life of the party. Bought us two rounds.”

While surprising, that was the least of my worries right now. “Where’s he at?”

A lavender‑haired girl, much more serious than the rest of them, answered me. “He just left. He said he had to go pick up something.”

“Did he say where he was going?” I asked.

She shook her head, and a blond girl cuddled up to her said, “He said something about ‘un‑pawning.’ Is that even a word?”

“No,” I murmured, feeling baffled. A pawnshop? Why would Adrian go there? And which one? There had to be a dozen in the area.

“He took a cab,” added the first girl. “Then he said he’d walk home.”

Ah. That was something I could go on. I took out my phone and did a search for pawnshops within walking distance of his apartment. There were two. I then texted Adrian, asking, Where are you?  I didn’t know if I could expect an answer, but in the meantime, it wouldn’t be hard to check out both shops.

“Thanks,” I told the girls. I was halfway to the door when the lavender‑haired one caught up with me.

“Hey, wait,” she said. “You’re her, right? Sydney? The girlfriend?”

I hesitated. We weren’t supposed to acknowledge our relationship in public, but clearly, he’d been divulging a little. “Yes.”

“I’m Rowena.” Her face grew grave, and from the clear look in her blue eyes, I realized she wasn’t as drunk as the others. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“No idea what?”

“No idea that he had a problem. He almost always turns down going out, and the few times he has, he hardly has anything. I was kind of blown away when he jumped in tonight, and then . . . the more I watched, the more I got it. He had this look my stepdad used to get whenever he fell off the wagon. Like he’d been living in a desert and suddenly stumbled across an Evian machine. Then the more it went on tonight . . .” She sighed. “I knew. I’m sorry. I should’ve gone with him, but he seemed so confident.”

The earnestness and concern in her words nearly made me choke up. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your job to look after him.” It’s mine.

“Yeah, I know . . . I just . . .” She faltered, and I understood why Adrian spoke so highly of her.

I gave her the best smile I could muster, despite how dead I felt inside. “Thank you.”

“I hope he’s okay,” she added. “He drank a lot.”

“I’m sure he will be,” I said, trying not to wince.

The first pawnshop I drove to was empty, and the guy working said no one had been by in an hour. I hoped my pawnshop deductions would actually prove right. Otherwise, I was out of luck since Adrian hadn’t answered my text. But then, sure enough, when I arrived at the other shop, I found him. He stood just inside their entryway, blocked by a metal grating that they worked behind at night. I could understand it, since night probably brought out sketchy people. And studying Adrian, he certainly seemed like one.

“I need it back!” he exclaimed. “I need it back. She needs it back. It’s a royal heirloom!”

The scruffy‑looking guy behind the grating met him with a level look. “Sure it is. If you can’t buy it out, I can’t give it back.” I had the distinct impression he’d told Adrian this many times.

“Adrian,” I said. He spun around, and I flinched at the wild look in his bloodshot eyes. His normally perfect hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled. If I didn’t know him, I’d want a grating between us too.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Looking for you.” I forced calm, trying to still the panic rising within me. “Come on. We need to go. I’ll drive you home.”

“You can’t! Not until we get it back.” He pointed an accusing finger at the pawnbroker. “He stole it!”

The man sighed. “Kid, you hocked it for cash.”

“What?” I demanded. “What did you sell?”

Adrian raked a hand through his hair, messing it up further. “I didn’t sell anything. I would never sell it. I just lent it to him. And now I need it back.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out ten dollars. “Look, just give it back, and you can have this. It’s all I’ve got, but I’ll get you the rest in two weeks. I promise. That’s a perfectly reasonable deal.”

“That’s not how it works,” the guy said.

“What did you–lend?” I asked.

“The ruby. One of the rubies from Aunt Tatiana’s cuff links. I shouldn’t have left it here. Not in a place like this. It’s . . . sacrilege! Something like that has no business here. She told me to do it, but I know she doesn’t mean it.”

A chill ran over me. “Who told you to do it?”

“Her. Aunt Tatiana.”

“Adrian, she can’t tell you anything. She’s . . . gone.”

He tapped his head. “No, she’s here. I mean, not right now, but I know she’s waiting. And when I’m sober, she’ll be back and give me hell for this! I have to get the ruby back!” He turned with startling speed and pounded on the grating.

The shopkeeper took a step back. “I’m going to call the police.”

“No, wait,” I said, hurrying forward. “How much does he owe?”

“Two fifty.”

“It was two hundred!” cried Adrian.

“Plus fees and interest,” said the man, with far more patience than I probably would’ve had.

I reached for my wallet. “What credit cards do you take?”

“All of them,” he replied.

I paid for the ruby, and while the man went to get it, Adrian called after him, “There better not be a scratch on it!” When he got the ruby back, he held it up and scrutinized it with narrowed eyes, as though he were a master jeweler.

“Come on,” I said, taking hold of his arm. “Let’s go.”

He stayed where he was, clutching the ruby in his fist and bringing it to his lips. His eyes closed briefly, and then, with a deep breath, he followed me to my car.

He chatted a lot on the way home, relating antics and stories from the night, and going on and on about how he’d been wronged by the pawnbroker. I said nothing and barely heard a word he said. My hands clenched the steering wheel with white knuckles, and all I kept thinking about was that frantic look in his eyes when he’d pounded against the grating.

He began to quiet as I hunted for parking in his neighbor‑hood. When we got inside, I saw that the full effect of what had happened was sinking into him. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or feel bad for him.

“Sydney, wait,” he said, when he realized I was about to turn right around and leave. “We need to talk.”

I sighed. “No. Not tonight. I’m tired, and I want to go to bed. And I don’t want to talk to you when you’re like this. There’ll be plenty of time tomorrow.”

“Will there?” he asked. “Or will you have to keep your distance and stay with Zoe?”

“Don’t start with that,” I warned. “You know we can’t help that. You knew it when this started, so don’t try blaming me for us tiptoeing around.”

“I’m not,” he said. “But why do we have to keep doing it? Let’s make a real escape plan. Let’s leave. We’ll go to the Keepers or something and be together without all this bullshit.”

“Adrian,” I said wearily.

“Don’t ‘Adrian’ me,” he snapped, a surprising glint of anger in his eyes. “I don’t know how you manage to do it, but just by saying my name like that, you make me feel like I’m five years old.”

I nearly said he was acting like it but managed to bite back the comment at the last minute. “Okay. We can’t go to the Keepers because the Alchemists visit there all the time. And you wouldn’t last one hour in those conditions. Besides, could you abandon Jill?”

The pained look on his face answered for him.

“Exactly. We’re stuck here and just have to manage as best we can until . . . I don’t know. Something changes. You know that. You’ve always known that.”

“I do,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair again, and by this time, it was beyond hope. “I do . . . and I hate it. And I don’t have to be drunk to feel this way. How long, Sydney? Where is this all going? At what point do we get out? When you and Marcus pull off your revolution against the Alchemists?”

“It’s not that easy.” I averted my eyes for a moment. “We’re also pulling off a revolution against the taboos both our races enforce.”

“What’s going to happen to us?” He leaned against the back of his kitchen and stared off at the dark window, lost in his own thoughts. “What is  our escape plan?”

Silence fell. I had no answer, and I did the cowardly thing by shifting the topic back to him. “Is that why you did this tonight? Because of us? Or was it because of spirit? Jill mentioned that you used a lot of it.”

“No, Sydney.” It was a little disconcerting that he kept using my first name. It made it hard to stay angry. He walked back to me and caught hold of my hands, a haunted look in his eyes. “I didn’t just use spirit. It was like . . . I was  spirit. It filled me up. I had to look into that girl–Olive–to find out what had happened to her. Spirit infused every part of her, and I had to summon so much to see it. Then I had to confine it. Do you know what that’s like? Do you have any idea? The only thing I’ve ever done that required more was saving Jill.”

“Hence your backlash,” I said.

He shook his head. “I tried. I tried to hold out. But when I swing up like that . . . well, eventually the pendulum swings back. It’s hard to explain.”

“I’ve been down before.”

“Not like this,” he said. “And I’m not saying that to be a smart‑ass. The way I feel . . . it’s like the world starts crumbling around me. Every doubt, every fear . . . it eats me. It weighs me down until I’m swallowed in darkness and can’t tell what’s real or not. And even when I know something’s not real . . . like Aunt Tatiana . . . well, it’s still hard . . .”

I went cold all over, recalling his words from the shop. “How often do you hear her?”

His voice was barely whisper. “Not often. Although, once is too much. It’s so weird. I know she’s not there. I know she’s gone. But I can imagine what she’d say, and it’s just so real . . . it’s like I can practically see her. I haven’t yet, though, but someday . . . someday, I’m afraid I really will, and then I know I’ll really be lost . . .”

I was so floored, I didn’t know what to say. There’d been lots of talk about madness and spirit, but I’d rarely thought it was more than his moodiness. I drew him to me and finally found words.

“Adrian, you have to get help.”

His laugh was harsh. “What help is there? This is my life. Jäger shots are about as good as it gets. At least they take the edge off.”

“That’s not a solution. You need real help. Get a prescription like Lissa did.”

He abruptly pulled away from me. “What, and kill it altogether?”

“Stop spirit, you stop the depression and . . . other things. Like needing to drink until you’re yelling at a pawn dealer.”

“But then I don’t have spirit.”

“Yes, that’s the point.”

“I can’t. I can’t cut myself off from it.” Lines of pain were etched on his face.

“You can do anything you want,” I said firmly. There was a pain welling up inside of me, and I summoned as much steel as I could to keep it hidden. A concerned Hopper was sitting nearby, and I picked him up as a distraction, stroking the golden scales. “Do it, and you’ll save yourself. And Jill. You know the darkness can bleed into her.”

“I did save her!” he exclaimed. A bit of that desperate, frantic gleam returned to his eyes. “She was dead, and I saved her. With spirit. I saved Rowena’s hand. I saved Olive’s blood. Do you know how much effort that was? It wasn’t just the amount–the magic was so intricate, Sydney. I don’t know if anyone else could’ve done it. But I  did. With spirit. With spirit, I can actually do great things for a change!”

“You can do plenty of other great things.”

“Yeah? Like that?” He pointed at his latest self‑portrait attempt, which even I had to admit was pretty bad.

“You’re more than the magic,” I insisted. “I don’t love you because of the magic.”

He faltered a moment at that. “But how can I just let go of the ability to help others? I asked you this before. Should I have let Jill die? Let Rowena ruin her career? Lose our chance at saving people from becoming Strigoi?”

My control finally snapped, and I set Hopper back down. “There’s a line! At some point, there’s a line you can’t cross! Yes, you’ve done amazing things, but you’re reaching a point where you’ll have to pay a big price. Are you ready to pay it? Because I’m not! There comes a time when you have to step back and balance yourself with the needs of others. What happens if you do some major feat of spirit that pushes you over the edge? That gets you locked away? Or dead? Then what? How much else will you accomplish? Nothing. You don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know what you can do if you break free of spirit’s influence.”

He moved forward and clasped my hands again. “But I’m not going to be able to. You think I can stand aside the next time I have to heal someone? Let them suffer? That’s a temptation I can’t fight.”

“Then remove it. Talk to a doctor. Take the decision away, and see what wondrous things you can do when you’re in control of yourself again.”

Those green, green eyes held me for what felt like an eternity. At last he swallowed and shook his head again. “I can’t, Sydney. I can’t give it up.”

And at that point, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears started as just a few trickles and before I knew it, I was consumed by full‑fledged sobbing. I buried my face in my hands, and all the grief, all the fear I’d held inside me for him came bursting out. I almost never cried. I certainly didn’t do it in front of others. And although I considered most of my dad’s lessons completely useless these days, I’d still clung to the idea that breaking down like this and showing so much emotion was a sign of weakness. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop.

I was scared. So, so scared for him. I dealt with logic and reason, and this was too hard for me, having to manage the unreasonable. And I’d meant what I said. I was afraid that one day, he’d go past frenetic painting and drunken antics. What if the pawnbroker had called the police before I got there? What if his aunt told him to walk off a building?

I felt Adrian’s arms go around me, and although they were strong, his voice wavered. “Sydney . . . are you . . . are we . . . are we breaking up?”

It took me almost a minute to speak without choking. I looked up at him in shock, unable to believe he’d think I would leave him because he was suffering. “What? No! Why would you think that?”

The alcohol was wearing off, and his earlier frustration and sadness were now completely trumped by fear and confusion. “Then why are you crying?”

“Because of you!” I beat my fists on his chest. “Because I love you, and I don’t know what to do! I can solve almost any problem, but I can’t solve this. I don’t know how to deal with that. And I’m afraid! Afraid for you! Do you know what it’d do to me if something happens to you?” I stopped hitting him and clasped my hands over my own chest, as though there was a danger my heart might fall out. “This! This would break. Shatter. Crumble. Crumble until it was dust.” I dropped my hands. “Blown away on the wind until there was nothing left.”

Silence fell between us, broken occasionally by my gasps as I tried to get over my sobs. It was so quiet that I heard my cell phone buzz in my purse. Zoe, I realized. In the wake of what had happened with Adrian, she seemed like something from another life. Slowly, reality seeped into me. She was very much a part of this life, and she was probably afraid that Jill was going to turn me into a snack.

I broke from Adrian and read the text, which was about what I expected. I told her I was fine and was on my way home. When I looked back up, Adrian was watching me with a longing and despair that made me want to rush back to him. But I knew I’d never leave then, and it was time to go. The rest of the world was marching on.

“We’ll talk later,” I whispered, not that I had any clue what else to say. I found my wallet and set some cash on the back of the couch. “To get you by.”

“Sydney . . .” He took a step forward and reached toward me.

“Later,” I reiterated. “Go get some sleep. And remember, I love you. No matter what else comes, I love you.”

It seemed like a paltry thing in the face of all that plagued him, but for now, it would have to be enough.

CHAPTER 11

ADRIAN

IT WAS THE TEARS THAT BROKE ME.

Maybe I could’ve stayed obstinate and argued against her, making excuses about why I was trapped by spirit. I could’ve probably done a decent job, even against her superior logic. But as I began sobering up after she left, the image of those tears haunted me. I’d always rejoiced in those rare moments of passion I saw in her eyes, that deeper emotional side she kept guarded. She wasn’t someone who showed her feelings easily to others, yet I alone was special enough to see the full wealth of her emotions when she was full of joy and desire. And tonight, I’d apparently been special enough to witness her sorrow too.

It ate me up, especially because the next time I saw her, she acted as though nothing had happened. She was good to her word. She wasn’t going to leave me. But despite her smiles and her cool countenance, I knew she must be frustrated. I had a problem–no, I was  a problem. One she couldn’t solve. It had to be driving her crazy, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized she shouldn’t have to solve it. I needed to step up. No one had ever cried for me before. Honestly, I didn’t think I was worth anyone’s tears.

“But I have to be,” I told Jill one day. “If she cares that much and can hurt so much for me . . . how can I let her feelings go to waste? She thinks I’m important. I have to prove that I can be.”

“You are  important,” Jill assured me.

We were sitting outside her dorm, enjoying a surge of winter warmth. The shadow of the sprawling stucco building kept the worst of the light away from us.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I can offer her or the world. I thought it was spirit. I thought the things I can do with it would be my contribution to the world. Like you and Olive.” I’d heard nothing about Olive since she’d gone to Court, and for all I knew, my efforts might have actually failed.

Jill squeezed my hand and smiled. “Well, it’s certainly a contribution as far as I’m concerned, but Sydney was right–you don’t know what else you might be capable of. Most people don’t leave their mark on the world through big miracles. Some do,” she added quickly. “But sometimes the biggest impact is made by a series of small, quiet things. You won’t be able to do anything like that if you’re–”

“–locked away or dead?” I finished, echoing Sydney’s words.

Jill winced. “Let’s not think about anything like that. No point stressing over what hasn’t happened. Just work on what you can control now.”

I slung an arm around her. “There you go again, Jailbait. Being all wise beyond your years.”

“Your wisdom must be rubbing off on me. You’re already doing great things without even trying.” She leaned into me. “But seriously, Adrian. Try it. Try to stop spirit and see what happens.”

“I haven’t used it since then. Not even to look at auras.” I also hadn’t had a single drink, not even my daily allotted one.

“It’s only been a few days. Not to say your sacrifice isn’t noble. But are you going to be able to resist using spirit if . . . I don’t know . . . if, say, Sydney cuts her leg shaving? Are you going to be able to resist, or are you going to think, ‘Oh, a little spirit healing on that cut won’t hurt’?”

“She does have great legs,” I admitted. “I’d hate to see them marred.”

“Exactly. And you’d think that a teeny, tiny bit of spirit wouldn’t hurt anything. And then you’d think that the next time. And the next time–”

I held my hands up. “Okay, okay. I get it. Thank God Sydney’s too careful for this shaving fiasco to even be a possibility.” We both laughed at that, and then the severity of the situation settled back on me. “You win. I’ll try . . . but I just can’t shake the feeling I’m being selfish if I do this. I’ve been selfish my whole life. It’d be nice if I’d overcome that.”