The Golden Lily (11 page)

As he stood up, he glanced over at me. “Will you walk with me a sec, Sage?” Before I could even lodge my protest, he said,

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking you to the feeding. I just want to ask you a quick question.” I nodded and folowed him out of the room. As soon as we were away from the others, I said, “I do not want to hear any more ‘witty’ commentary on Brayden.”

“My commentary’s hilarious, not witty. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” He came to a halt in the halway, outside what I suspected was Dorothy’s room.

“So, it seems my old man’s coming to San Diego on business next weekend.” I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, already getting a bad feeling about this.

“He doesn’t know why I’m here, of course, or that I’m with Jil. He doesn’t even know what city I’m in. He just thinks I’m partying in California, up to no good as usual.” I wasn’t surprised that Mr. Ivashkov wouldn’t know the true reason for Adrian being here. Jil’s “resurrection” was top secret, as were her whereabouts. We couldn’t risk any extra people—not even someone who might not mean her harm—finding out where she was.

What did surprise me was that Adrian was working so hard to act like he didn’t care what his father thought—but he obviously did. Adrian’s face was convincing, but there was a note of bitterness in his voice that gave him away. “Anyway,” Adrian continued, “he said he’d meet me for lunch if I wanted.

Normaly, I’d blow it off … but I’d kind of like to know what’s going on with my mom—they never tell me when I call or e-mail.” Again, I picked up mixed emotions from him. Adrian’s mother was serving time in a Moroi prison for crimes of intrigue.

You wouldn’t know it by his cocky attitude and sense of humor, but it must have been hard on him.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You want to borrow my car.” I was sympathetic to those with difficult fathers, even Adrian. But my compassion only went so far and

“Let me guess,” I said. “You want to borrow my car.” I was sympathetic to those with difficult fathers, even Adrian. But my compassion only went so far and didn’t extend to Latte. I couldn’t risk any dents. Besides, the idea of being stuck without any way to get around scared me, especialy when vampires were involved.

“No way,” he said. “I know better than that.” He did? “Then what do you want?” I asked, surprised.

“I was hoping you’d drive me.”

I groaned. “Adrian, it takes two hours to get there.”

“It’s pretty much a straight shot down the highway,” he

“It’s pretty much a straight shot down the highway,” he pointed out. “And I figured you’d drive a four-hour round-trip before giving up your car to someone else.” I eyed him. “That’s true.”

He took a step closer, a disconcertingly earnest expression all over his face. “Please, Sage. I know it’s a lot to ask, so I’m not even going to pretend you’d benefit. I mean, you can spend the day in San Diego doing whatever you want. It’s not the same as going to see solar panels or whatever with Brady, but I’d owe you—

literaly and figuratively. I’ll pay you gas money.”

“It’s Brayden, and where in the world would you get gas money?” Adrian lived on a very tight alowance his father gave him. It was part of why Adrian was taking colege classes, in the hopes that he’d get financial aid next semester and have a bit more of an income. I admired that, though if we were all actualy still in Palm Springs come January, it’d mean the Moroi had some serious political problems.

“I … I’d cut back on things to come up with the extra money,” he said after a few moments of hesitation.

I didn’t bother hiding my surprise. “Things” most likely meant alcohol and cigarettes, which was where his meager alowance usualy went. “Realy?” I asked.

“You’d give up drinking to go see your dad?”

“Wel, not permanently,” he said. “That’d be ridiculous. But maybe I could switch to something slightly cheaper for a while.

Like … slushes. Do you know how much I love those? Cherry, especialy.”

“Um, no,” I said. Adrian was easily distractible by wacky

“Um, no,” I said. Adrian was easily distractible by wacky topics and shiny objects. “They’re pure sugar.”

“Pure deliciousness, you mean. I haven’t had a good one in ages.”

“You’re getting off topic,” I pointed out.

“Oh. Right. Wel, whether I have to go on a slush-based diet or whatever, you’ll get your money. And that’s the other reason … I’m kind of hoping the old man might agree to up my income. You probably don’t believe it, but I hate always borrowing from you. It’s easy for my dad to dodge phone cals, but face-to-face? He can’t escape. Plus, he thinks it’s more

‘manly’ and ‘respectable’ to ask for something directly. Classic Nathan Ivashkov honor.” Once again, the bitterness. Maybe a little anger. I studied Adrian for a long time as I thought about my next response. The hall was dim, giving him the advantage.

He could probably see me perfectly while some details were more difficult for me.

Those green, green eyes I so often admired in spite of myself simply looked dark now. The pain on his face, however, was all too apparent. He hadn’t yet learned to hide his feelings from Jill and the bond, but I knew he kept that lazy, devil-may-care attitude on for the rest of the world—wel, for everyone except me lately. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him vulnerable, and it seemed weird to me that I, of all people, was the one he kept baring his emotions to. Or was it weird? Maybe this was just my social ineptitude confusing me again. Regardless, it puled at something within me.

“Is that realy what this is about? The money?” I asked,

“Is that realy what this is about? The money?” I asked, tucking my other questions aside. “You don’t like him. There has to be something more here.”

“The money’s a big part. But I meant what I said earlier … about my mom. I need to know how she is, and he won’t tell me about her. Honestly, I think he just wants to pretend it never happened—either for that reputation of his or maybe … maybe because it hurts him. I don’t know, but like I said, he can’t dodge if I’m right there. Plus …” Adrian glanced away a moment before mustering the courage to meet my eyes again. “I don’t know. It’s stupid. But I thought … wel, maybe he’d be impressed that I was sticking to colege this time.

Probably not, though.”

My heart ached for him, and I suspected that last part—

earning his dad’s approval—was bigger than Adrian was letting on. I knew all about what it was like to have a father who continualy judged, whom nothing was ever good enough for. I understood as well the warring emotions … how one day you could say you didn’t care, yet be yearning for approval the next.

And I certainly understood motherly attachment. One of the hardest parts of being in Palm Springs was the distance from my mom and sisters.

“Why me?” I blurted out. I hadn’t meant to touch on those earlier questions, but I suddenly couldn’t help myself. There was too much tension here, too much emotion. “You could’ve asked Sonya or Dimitri to drive you. They probably would’ve even let you borrow their rental car.” you borrow their rental car.”

The ghost of a smile flashed across Adrian’s face. “I don’t know about that. And I think you know why I don’t want to risk being trapped in a car with our Russian friend. As for the rest … I don’t know, Sage. There’s something about you … you don’t judge like the others. I mean, you do. You’re more judgmental than any of them in some ways. But there’s an honesty to it. I feel …” The smile left his face as he faltered for words. “Comfortable around you, I guess.” There was no way I could stand against that, though I find it ironic he was alegedly most comfortable around me when Moroi gave me panic attacks half the time. You don’t have to help, an inner voice warned me. You don’t owe him anything. You don’t owe any Moroi anything that isn’t absolutely necessary. Have you forgotten Keith? This isn’t a part of your job. The bunker came back to me, and I recaled how one vampire deal had landed Keith in Re-education. How much worse was I? Social interaction was an inevitable part of this assignment, but I was blurring all the lines around it again.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it. E-mail me what time you need to leave.”

That’s when the funniest part came. He looked totaly floored.

“Realy?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You gave me that whole pitch and didn’t realy think I’d agree, did you?”

“No,” he admitted, still clearly amazed. “I can’t always tell with you. I cheat with people, you know. I mean, I’m good at reading faces, but I pick up a lot from auras and act like I just reading faces, but I pick up a lot from auras and act like I just have amazing insight. I haven’t learned to totaly understand humans, though.

You’ve got the same colors but a different feel.” Auras didn’t weird me out as much as other vampire magic, but I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with them. “What color is mine?”

“Yelow, of course.”

“Of course?”

“Smart, analytic types usualy have yelow. You’ve got a little purple here and there, though.” Even in the dimness, I could see a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“That’s what makes you interesting.”

“What’s purple mean?”

Adrian put his hand on the door. “Gotta go, Sage. Don’t want to keep Dorothy waiting.”

“Come on. Tell me what purple is.” I was so curious, I nearly grabbed his arm.

He turned the knob. “I will if you want to join us.”

“Adrian—”

Laughing, he disappeared inside the room and shut the door.

With a shake of my head, I started to return to the others and then decided to seek out my Diet Coke after al. I lingered with it in the kitchen for a while, leaning against the granite countertops and staring absentmindedly at the briliant copper pots hanging from the ceiling. Why had I agreed to drive Adrian? What was it about him that managed to crack all the propriety and logic I built my life around? I understood why I often had a soft spot for Jil. She reminded me of my younger sister, Zoe. But Adrian? He Jil. She reminded me of my younger sister, Zoe. But Adrian? He wasn’t like anyone I knew. In fact, I was fairly certain there was no one in the entire world quite like Adrian Ivashkov.

I delayed so long that when I returned to the living room, Adrian was on his way back too. I sat down on the couch, nursing the last of my Diet Coke. Sonya brightened upon seeing me.

“Sydney, we just had a wonderful idea.” Maybe I wasn’t always the quickest in picking up social cues, but I did notice this wonderful idea was addressed to me, and not Adrian and me.

“We were just talking about the reports from the night of the … incident.” She gave Clarence a meaningful look, and I nodded in understanding. “Both the Moroi and the Alchemists said the Strigoi had trouble with your blood too, correct?” I stiffened, not liking this at al. It was a conversation I’d lived in fear of. The Strigoi who’d kiled Lee hadn’t just had “trouble” with my blood. Lee’s had tasted strange to them. Mine had been disgusting. The one who’d tried to drink from me hadn’t been able to tolerate it at al. She’d even spit it out.

“Yes …” I said carefuly.

“Obviously, you’re not a restored Strigoi,” said Sonya. “But we’d like to take a look at your blood too. Maybe there’s something about it that could help us. A small sample should suffice.”

All eyes were on me, even Clarence’s. The room started to close in as a familiar panic filed me. I had thought a lot about close in as a familiar panic filed me. I had thought a lot about why the Strigoi hadn’t liked my blood—actualy, I’d tried to avoid thinking about it. I didn’t want to believe there was anything special about me.

There couldn’t be. I didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention. It was one thing to facilitate these experiments and another to actualy be a subject. If they wanted me for one test, they might want me for something else. And then something else. I’d end up locked away, poked and prodded.

There was also the fact that I just didn’t want to give up my blood. It didn’t matter that I liked Sonya and Dimitri. It didn’t matter that the blood would be drawn with a needle, not teeth.

The basic concept was still there, a taboo stemming from the most rudimentary of Alchemist beliefs: giving blood to vampires was wrong. It was my blood. Mine.

The basic concept was still there, a taboo stemming from the most rudimentary of Alchemist beliefs: giving blood to vampires was wrong. It was my blood. Mine.

No one—especialy vampires—had any business with it.

I swalowed, hoping I didn’t look like I wanted to bolt. “It was only one Strigoi’s opinion. And you know they don’t like humans as well as … you guys.” That was part of why the Moroi lived in such fear and had seen their numbers reduced over time.

They were the crème de la crème of Strigoi cuisine. “That’s probably all it was.”

“Perhaps,” said Sonya. “But there’s no harm done in checking.” Her face was alight with this new idea. I hated turning her down … but my principles on this matter were too strong. It was everything I’d been raised to believe.

“I think it’s a waste of time,” I said. “We know spirit has to be involved, and I have no connection to that.”

“I do think it would be helpful,” she said. “Please.”

“I do think it would be helpful,” she said. “Please.” Helpful? From her point of view, yes. She wanted to rule out every possibility. But my blood had nothing to do with Strigoi conversions. It couldn’t.

“I … I’d rather not.” A tame response, considering the emotions churning inside me. My heart was starting to race, and the wals were still closing in on me. My anxiety increased as I was visited by an old feeling, the awful realization that I was outnumbered here at Clarence’s. That it was me and a roomful of vampires and dhampirs. Unnatural creatures. Unnatural creatures who wanted my blood …

Dimitri studied me curiously. “It won’t hurt, if that’s what you’re afraid of. We don’t need any more than what a doctor would take.” I shook my head adamantly. “No.”

“Both Sonya and I have training in this sort of thing,” he added, trying to reassure me. “You don’t have to worry about

—”

“She said no, okay?”

All the eyes that had been on me suddenly jerked toward Adrian. He leaned forward, fixing his gaze on Sonya and Dimitri, and I saw something in those pretty eyes I’d never seen before: anger. They were like emerald fire.