The Indigo Spell (25 page)

SOMEHOW, I STILL LOST.

If Adrian were capable of on-the-fly calculations, I’d swear he was using his powers
to affect the way the dice rolled. Most likely, he either had some innate and inexplicable
Monopoly skills I just couldn’t understand—or he was very, very lucky. But through
it all, I had fun, and losing to him was a lot better than having Veronica haunt me
in my sleep. He continued the dream visits for the next few days, and although I never
felt completely safe from her, I at least didn’t have her occupying the forefront
of my mind at all times. That honor was saved for my weekend trip to St. Louis, which
came around more quickly than I expected.

Once I was on the plane, the reality of what I was about to attempt hit me. This was
it, the point of no return. In the safety of Palm Springs, I’d been able to maintain
a somewhat cool and collected attitude. St. Louis had seemed far away back then. Now
the tasks ahead of me seemed daunting and kind of crazy. And
dangerous
. There was no part of this that wouldn’t get me into serious trouble. Lying to Stanton.
Breaking into top secret servers. Even charming information out of Ian could have
repercussions.

And really, who was I to think I would have any ability to lure secrets from him?
I wasn’t like Rose or Julia. They had men fawning all over them. But me? I was socially
awkward and pretty inept when it came to romance. Maybe Ian liked me, but that didn’t
mean I’d have some magical power over him. Of course, if that part of the plan with
him failed, then I’d be free of my other tasks.

Every single part of this was overwhelming, and as I stared out the plane’s window,
watching St. Louis grow closer and closer, my feelings of dread grew. My palms were
too sweaty to hold a book, and when I refused food, it was because of the queasiness
in my stomach, not some obsession with calories.

I’d gone back and forth on whether to get a hotel room or stay at the facility itself,
which provided guest housing for visiting Alchemists like me. In the end, I opted
for the former. The less time I spent under the watchful eyes of my masters, the better.

It also meant I didn’t have to worry about my outfit attracting attention. I hadn’t
exactly followed all of Adrian’s suggestions, but the dress I’d purchased for this
trip was a bit racier than my normal business casual wardrobe. Okay, a lot racier.
It would have been completely out of place among the modest and neutral-colored attire
Alchemists usually wore. But when Ian met me in the hotel’s lobby for dinner, I knew
I’d made the right choice.

“Wow,” he said, eyes widening. “You look amazing.”

Apparently, his Alchemists sensibilities weren’t offended by my outfit. It was a form-fitting
minidress that went about to my mid-thigh, with an open back and a disconcertingly
low V-neck that gave me cleavage I hadn’t even known was possible. Any demureness
the dress’s long sleeves might have offered was undone by the fabric combination:
a beige underdress covered in black and maroon lace. It gave the illusion that I was
wearing lace with nothing underneath. The saleswoman had assured me that every part
of the dress was supposed to fit that snugly (for once in my life, I’d actually suggested
a larger size) and that I needed at least four-inch black heels to make it all work.
With the help of a lot of hairpins, I’d even managed to pull my hair up into a bun,
which wasn’t easy with my layered haircut.

I felt conspicuous walking through the lobby, but no one gave me any shocked looks.
The few I did get were admiring ones. The hotel was pretty posh, and I was just one
of a number of women dressed in holiday cocktail dresses. Nothing scandalous or out
of the ordinary.
You can do this, Sydney.
And wearing a revealing dress wasn’t nearly as difficult as breaking into a server,
right?

Right?

I smiled as I approached Ian and gave him a quick hug, which was weird both because
it was with Ian and because I felt naked in the dress. This femme fatale thing was
harder than I’d thought it’d be.

“I’m glad I got to see you again,” I said. “I know what an inconvenience this must
be, with no notice.”

Ian shook his head so adamantly that I almost expected to hear rattling. “N-no. No
trouble at all.”

Satisfied he’d gotten a look, I slipped on my coat, a mid-length black trench, and
gestured toward the exit. “Time to brave the elements?”

He hurried ahead of me to open the door. A scattering of snowflakes drifted down,
resting on my coat and hair. My breath made a frosty cloud in the air, and I had a
momentary flashback to traipsing across that field with Adrian. Little had I known
that search for Marcus would lead to me running errands for him in a tight dress.

Ian had parked in the hotel’s front circle drive. He drove a Toyota Corolla, which
was made even more boring by the fact that he’d chosen it in white. A little air freshener
shaped like a tree hung from the rearview mirror, but rather than the usual pine scent,
a small label declared it to be “New Car Scent.” Mostly it smelled like plastic. I
put on a brave face. Marcus really owed me one.

“I made us a reservation at this really great seafood place,” he told me. “It’s close
to the facility, so we can head on over to the service right away.”

“Sounds great,” I said. I never ate seafood in any landlocked state.

The restaurant was called Fresh Cache, which didn’t improve my opinion of it. Still,
I had to give it credit for attempts at a romantic atmosphere. Most of the lighting
came from candles, and a pianist in the corner played covers of easy-listening songs.
More well-dressed people filled the tables, laughing and chatting over wine and shrimp
cocktails. The host showed us to a corner table, covered with burgundy linen and decorated
with a scattering of green orchids. I’d never seen any up close and was actually quite
taken with how exotic and sensual they were. If only I was here with anyone but Ian.

I was hesitant to take my coat off. It made me feel exposed, and I had to remind myself
of the consequences of Alchemists and Warriors working together. As soon as the dress
was unleashed again, I had the satisfaction of seeing Ian melt once more. I remembered
Adrian’s advice about confidence and put on a smug smile, hoping I gave the impression
that I was doing Ian a great favor by allowing him to be in my presence. And, to my
complete and utter amazement, it seemed to work. I even allowed myself to indulge
in a dangerous thought: maybe it wasn’t the dress wielding such power here.

Maybe it was
me
.

Opening the menu, I began skimming for a beef or poultry option. “What do you recommend?”

“The mahi mahi is great here,” he said. “So is the swordfish.”

The waiter stopped by, and I ordered a chicken Caesar salad. I figured they couldn’t
really mess up the anchovies in the dressing.

We were left alone to wait, with nothing to do now but move on to small talk. Ian
picked up the ball. “I suppose you still can’t tell me much about where you’re at,
huh?”

“Afraid not. You know how it is.” I buttered a sourdough roll with what I was pretty
sure was exactly half a tablespoon. I didn’t want to go too crazy, but I could allow
myself a little indulgence since I ordered a salad. “I can tell you I’m in the field.
I just can’t say much else.”

Ian’s attention shifted off my neckline as he stared into the candle’s flame. “I miss
that, you know. Being in the field.”

“You used to be, right? What happened?” I hadn’t thought much about it lately, but
when Ian had accompanied Stanton and me to the Moroi court, he had been pulled from
his post to make the trip. He’d been assigned somewhere in the south, Florida or Georgia,
I thought.

“Those Moroi holding us prisoner is what happened.” He shifted his gaze back to me,
and I was startled at the fierceness I saw. “I didn’t handle it very well.”

“Well, none of us did.”

He shook his head. “No, no. I really didn’t handle it well. I kind of freaked out.
They sent me to anger management training afterward.”

I nearly dropped the roll. I had in no way expected that. If someone had asked me
to name the top ten people who needed anger management, Ian wouldn’t have even made
the bottom of the list. My father, however, would have been near the top.

“How—how long were you there?” I stammered.

“Two weeks, and then I was good to go.”

Admittedly, I didn’t know the extent of the rage that had landed him in anger management,
but I found it interesting that two weeks was good enough to deem him ready to work
again. Meanwhile, Keith’s scheme to use Moroi to make money had earned him at least
two months in re-education—maybe more, since I hadn’t heard any updates in a while.

“But they wouldn’t let me work in the field,” Ian added. “Figure I shouldn’t be around
Moroi for a while. So that’s why I’m stuck here.”

“In the archives.”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” I told him. I wasn’t entirely lying. “Lots of books.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Sydney.” He began tearing a pumpernickel roll into pieces. “I’m
a glorified librarian.”

Maybe so, but that wasn’t my concern. What was my concern was Wade telling me that
the archives were on a secure level, one floor up from the surveillance room that
held security footage. He’d drawn me a map of each floor, making sure I memorized
the layout and the best ways to get in and out.

“I’d still love to see them,” I said. “I mean, the history they contain is amazing.”
Again, not entirely a lie. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, and had
the satisfaction of seeing his eyes drop to my plunging neckline again. This wasn’t
that difficult! Really, I didn’t know why I hadn’t been using my “womanly charms”
a long time ago. Actually, I never really knew I had any, until now. “Could you get
me in for a tour? Of the archives specifically. You seem like the kind of guy who
could get access to . . . a lot of places.”

Ian choked on his roll. After a bout of coughing, he glanced up at my face, then my
cleavage (again), and then back to my face. “I’d, um, love to, but it’s not really
open to the public—I mean, even the Alchemist public. Only those with special scholar
access are allowed in. We could look at the general access parts of the building,
though.”

“Oh. I see.” I looked down at my plate, pouting slightly, but didn’t say anything
else. As the waiter arrived with our food, I hoped my silence was making him reconsider
what he could be missing out on.

Eventually, Ian couldn’t take it anymore. He cleared his throat, maybe because there
was still bread stuck in it. “Well, I might be able to . . . you see, the problem
is just getting you down to the secure levels. Once you’re through that checkpoint,
it’s not hard to get you into the archives—especially if I’m working.”

“But you can’t do anything about the main checkpoint?” I coaxed, as if all real men
should be able to do that.

“No, I mean . . . maybe. I’ve got a friend who works there. I don’t know if he’s got
a shift tomorrow, but he still might be able to help. He owes me some money, so I
can use this as a trade. I hope.”

“Oh, Ian.” I flashed him a smile that I hoped rivaled one of Marcus’s. “That’s amazing.”
I remembered what Adrian had said. “I’d be so,
so
grateful if you could pull it off.”

My reaction clearly delighted Ian, and I wondered if Adrian had been right about how
“so, so grateful” was translated. “I’ll call him tonight after the service,” Ian said.
He looked determined now. “Hopefully we can make it happen before your flight tomorrow.”

I rewarded him by hanging on his every word for the rest of dinner, as though I’d
never heard anything quite so fascinating. All the while, my heart raced with the
knowledge that I was now one step closer to fulfilling Marcus’s task, one step closer
to potentially proving a connection to a bunch of gun-toting zealots and the organization
I’d served my whole life.

The salad was tiny, so I agreed to see the dessert menu after dinner. Ian suggested
we share, but that was a little too intimate for me, not to mention unhygienic. So,
I ate an entire lemon tart by myself, confident in the knowledge that I was still
a long ways from the five-pound mark. When Adrian had told me I’d look healthier if
I gained a little weight, he’d added that it would improve my bra size. I couldn’t
even imagine what that would do for this dress.

The Alchemist center in St. Louis was contained inside a giant, industrial building
that went undercover as a manufacturing plant. Moroi facilities—the court and their
schools—usually posed as universities. How ironic that “creatures of the night” would
live among beautifully landscaped gardens while “servants of the light” like us skulked
in ugly buildings with no windows.

Inside, however, everything was pristine, bright, and well-organized. A receptionist
checked us in when we arrived at the main desk and buzzed us through, along with many
others who arrived for the service. There were golden lilies everywhere. For many,
this was a fun-filled family event, and lots of children trailed their Alchemist parents.
It made me feel strange as I watched them, these kids who had been born into our profession.
I wondered how they’d feel ten years from now. Would they be excited to step up to
the plate? Or would they start questioning?

The center had three floors aboveground and five underneath. People off the street
could hardly just come wandering in, but we still took precautions by keeping the
more benign offices on the main floor. As we all walked down the corridor to the auditorium,
we passed Payroll, Travel, and Maintenance. All the offices had clear windows looking
into them from the hall, maintaining the Alchemist ideal that we had nothing to hide.

The secure offices belowground weren’t quite so open, however.

I’d been in this facility once before for a training seminar, and it had actually
taken place in the auditorium we entered for the service. Despite the spiritual theme
of tonight’s event, the room bore little resemblance to a church. Someone had gone
to the effort of decorating the walls with red-bowed evergreen garlands and setting
pots of poinsettias on the stage. The room had a state-of-the-art audio-visual system,
including a giant screen that gave a larger-than-life look at whatever was happening
onstage. The auditorium’s seating was so efficient that even those in the farthest
corners had a pretty clear view, so I think the screen was just for emphasis.