The Indigo Spell (18 page)

Marcus pushed his advantage. “You have nothing to lose—I mean, if you aren’t caught.
If you get the footage and we find nothing . . . well, so be it. False alarm. But
if we get hard proof that Jameson was there, then I don’t have to tell you how big
that is. Either way, you should break your tattoo and join us. Besides, after a stunt
like this, would you really want to stick around?” He eyed me. “But that part’s up
to you. Just help us for now.”

Against my better judgment, my mind was starting to figure out how I could pull this
off. “I’d need a lot more information about operations,” I murmured.

“I can get you that,” said Wade promptly.

I didn’t answer. This was crazy—a crazy idea from a crazy group. But I looked at Marcus’s
tattoo and the way the others followed him—the way even Sabrina followed him. There
was a dedication, an ardent belief that had nothing to do with Marcus’s silly flirting.
They might really be on to something.

“Sydney,” said Eddie again. And this time: “Please.”

I could feel my resolve weakening. A missing girl, who could cause lots of trouble
if found. If they were really talking about Jill, how could I risk anything happening
to her?

But what if I was caught?

Don’t get caught
, an inner voice said.

With a sigh, I looked back up at Wade. “All right,” I said. “Give me the scoop.”

WADE TOLD ME EVERYTHING
he knew. It was all useful, but I didn’t know if it would be enough. First, I had
to get to St. Louis . . . and that was going to be tricky. I braced myself for the
phone calls I’d have to make, hoping I had enough Alchemist wiles to pull them off.

Before I took on that task, I just wanted the normality and comfort of my own room.
Eddie and I drove back to Amberwood, analyzing every detail of our meeting. He was
chomping at the bit to make progress, and I promised I’d keep him in the loop.

I had just reached my door when my phone rang. It was Ms. Terwilliger. I swear, sometimes
I thought she had a sensor outside my room so that she’d know the instant I returned.

“Miss Melbourne,” she said. “We need to meet.”

My heart stopped. “There hasn’t been another victim, has there? You said we have time.”

“We do,” she replied. “Which is why we need to meet sooner rather than later. Reading
up on spells is one thing, but you require some hands-on practice. I refuse to let
Veronica get to you.”

Her words triggered a mix of emotions. Naturally, I had my knee-jerk reaction against
practicing magic. It was quickly squashed by the realization that Ms. Terwilliger
cared about me and was so concerned about keeping me safe. My own personal desire
to not be in a coma was also a strong motivator.

“When do you want to meet, ma’am?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning.”

I realized tomorrow was Saturday. Already? Where had the week gone? I was driving
Adrian to pick up his car in the morning, which hopefully wouldn’t take a long time.
“Could we meet at noon? I’ve got an errand to run.”

“I suppose so,” said Ms. Terwilliger, with some reluctance. “Meet me at my place,
and then we’ll go out to Lone Rock Park.”

I was about to lie back on my bed and froze. “Why do we have to go out to the middle
of the desert?” Lone Rock Park was remote and rarely saw many tourists. I hadn’t forgotten
how terrifying it was the last time she’d brought me out into the wilderness. At least
this time we’d be in daylight.

“Well, we can hardly practice on school grounds,” she pointed out

“True. . . .”

“Bring your book, and the components you’ve been working on.”

We disconnected, and I jotted out a quick text to Adrian:
Need to be fast tomorrow. Meeting Ms. T at 12.
His response wasn’t entirely unexpected:
Why?
Adrian naturally needed to know everything that was going on in my life. I texted
back that Ms. Terwilliger wanted to work on magical protection. This time, he did
surprise me:
Can I watch? Wanna know how she’s protecting you.

Wow, Adrian actually asked? He had a history of simply inviting himself along on outings.
I hesitated, still confused after our heated moment at the sorority. He’d never mentioned
it again, though, and his concern now touched me. I texted back that he could come
along and was rewarded with a smiley face.

I didn’t entirely know what to wear to “magical training,” so I opted for comfortable
layers the next morning. Adrian gave me a once-over when he got into Latte. “Casual
mode, huh? Haven’t seen that since the Wolfe days.”

“I don’t know what she has in mind,” I explained, doing a U-turn on his street. “Figured
this was best.”

“You could have worn your AYE shirt.”

“Wouldn’t want to get it dirty,” I said, grinning.

That was partially true. I still thought the fiery heart he’d painted was exquisite.
But each time I looked at the shirt, too many memories seized me. What had I been
thinking? That was a question I’d asked myself a hundred times, and every answer I
came up with sounded fake. My preferred theory was that I’d simply been caught up
in how serious Adrian had been about his art, how the emotion and passion had seized
hold of him. Girls liked artists just as much as bad boys, right? Even now, something
stirred in my chest when I thought about the enraptured look on his face. I loved
that he possessed something so powerful in him.

But, as I told myself constantly, that was no excuse for climbing all over him and
letting him kiss me—
on my neck
. I’d bought and downloaded the “bad boy” book online, but it had been completely
useless in advising me. I finally decided the best way—if not the healthiest one—was
to act like the moment had never happened. That didn’t mean I forgot it. In fact,
as I sat beside him in the car, I had a difficult time not thinking about how it had
felt to be pressed up against him. Or how his fingers had felt entangled in my hair.
Or how his lips had—

Sydney! Stop. Think of something else. Conjugate Latin verbs. Recite the periodic
table.

None of those did any good. To Adrian’s credit, he continued to withhold any commentary
about that night. Finally, I found distraction in telling him about my trip to San
Bernardino. Rehashing the conspiracy, rebel groups, and break-ins pretty much killed
any passionate feelings I still had. Adrian didn’t like the idea of Alchemists working
with Warriors or of the tattoo controlling me. But he also didn’t like me walking
into danger. I tried to downplay the near impossibility of breaking into the St. Louis
facility, but he clearly didn’t believe me.

Ms. Terwilliger texted me twice not to be late to our meeting. I kept an eye on my
watch, but the care of a Mustang was not something I took lightly, and I had to take
my time at the mechanic’s shop to make sure the Mustang was in pristine condition.
Adrian had wanted to go with basic tires, but I’d urged him to upgrade, convincing
him the extra cost would be worth it. And once I inspected them, I congratulated myself
on the choice. Only after I was satisfied the car hadn’t been unnecessarily scratched
did I finally allow him to pay. We drove both cars back to Vista Azul, and I was pleased
to see my timing was perfect. We weren’t late, but Ms. Terwilliger was waiting on
her porch for us.

We designated Adrian as our carpool driver. “Jeez,” I said when she hurriedly got
in the car. “Do you have somewhere to be after this?”

The smile she gave me was strained, and I couldn’t help but notice how pale she looked.
“No, but we do have a schedule to follow. I cast a large spell this morning that won’t
last forever. The countdown is on.”

She wouldn’t say any more until we reached the park, and that silence unnerved me.
It gave me the opportunity to imagine all sorts of frightening outcomes. And although
I trusted her, I suddenly felt relieved that Adrian was along as a chaperone.

Although it wasn’t the busiest place, Lone Rock Park still had the occasional hiker.
Ms. Terwilliger—who was actually in hiking boots—set off across the rocky terrain,
searching for a suitably remote space to do whatever it was she had in mind. A few
stratified rock formations dotted the landscape, but I couldn’t really appreciate
their beauty. Mostly I was aware that we were out here when the sun was at its fiercest.
Even if it was almost winter, we’d still be feeling the heat.

I glanced over at Adrian as we walked and found him already looking at me. From his
jacket pocket, he produced a bottle of sunscreen. “I knew you’d ask. I’m nearly as
prepared as you are.”

“Nearly,” I said. He’d done it again, anticipating my thoughts. For half a heartbeat,
I pretended it was just the two of us out on a pleasant afternoon hike. It seemed
like most of the time we spent together was on some urgent mission. How nice would
it be to just hang out without the weight of the world on us? Ms. Terwilliger soon
brought us back to our grim reality.

“This should do,” she said, surveying the land around her. She had managed to find
one of the most desolate areas in the park. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see
vultures circling overhead. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I knelt on the ground and rifled through my bag. In it was the spell
book, along with some herbal and liquid compounds I’d mixed up at her request.

“Take out the fireball kindling,” she instructed.

Adrian’s eyes went wide. “Did you just say ‘fireball’? That’s badass.”

“You see fire all the time,” I reminded him. “From Moroi who can wield it.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen a human do anything like that. I’ve never seen
you
do anything like that.”

I wished he didn’t look so awestruck because it kind of drove home the severity of
what we were about to attempt. I would’ve felt better if he’d treated it like it was
no big deal. But this spell? Yeah, it was kind of a big deal.

I’d once performed another spell that involved throwing a painstakingly made amulet
and reciting words that made it burst into flames. That one had a huge physical component,
however. This spell was another of those mental ones and essentially involved summoning
fire out of thin air.

The kindling Ms. Terwilliger had referred to was a small drawstring bag filled with
ashes made from burnt yew bark. She took the bag from me and examined its contents,
murmuring in approval. “Yes, yes. Very nice. Excellent consistency. You burned it
for exactly the right amount of time.” She handed the bag back. “Now, eventually you
won’t need this. That’s what makes this spell so powerful. It can be performed very
quickly, with very little preparation. But you have to practice first before you can
reach that point.”

I nodded along and tried to stay in student mode. So far, what she was saying was
similar to what the book had described. If I thought of all this as a classroom exercise,
it was much less daunting. Not really scary at all.

Ms. Terwilliger tilted her head and looked past me. “Adrian? You might want to keep
your distance. A considerable distance.”

Okay. Maybe a little scary.

He obeyed and backed up. Ms. Terwilliger apparently had no such fear for herself because
she stayed only a few feet away from me. “Now then,” she said. “Apply the ashes, and
hold out your hand.”

I reached into the bag, touching the ashes with my thumb and forefinger. Then I lightly
rubbed all my fingers together until my whole palm had a fine gray coating on it.
I set the bag down and then held out my hand in front of me, palm up. I knew what
came next but waited for her instruction.

“Summon your magic to call the flame back from the ashes. No incantation, just your
will.”

Magic surged within me. Calling an element from the world reminded me a little of
what the Moroi did, which felt strange. My attempt started off as a red glimmer, hovering
in the air above my palm. Slowly, it grew and grew until it was about the size of
a tennis ball. The high of magic filled me. I held my breath, scarcely able to believe
what I had just done. The red flames writhed and swirled, and although I could feel
their heat, they didn’t burn me.

Ms. Terwilliger gave a grunt that seemed to be equal parts amusement and surprise.
“Remarkable. I forget sometimes what a natural you really are. It’s only red, but
something tells me, it won’t take long before you can produce blue ones without the
ashes. Calling elements out of the air is easier than trying to transform one substance
into another.”

I stared at the fireball, entranced, but soon found myself getting tired. The flames
flickered, shrank, and then faded away altogether.

“The sooner you get rid of it, the better,” she told me. “You’ll just use up your
own energy trying to sustain it. Best to throw it at your adversary and quickly summon
another. Try again, and this time, throw it.”

I called the fire once more and felt a small bit of satisfaction at seeing it take
on more of an orange hue. I’d learned in my very first childhood chemistry lessons
that the lighter a flame was, the hotter it burned. Getting to blue anytime soon still
seemed like a long shot.

And speaking of long shots . . . I threw the fireball.

Or, well, I tried. My control of it faltered when I attempted to send it off toward
a bare patch of ground. The fireball splintered apart, the flames disappearing into
smoke that was carried off by the wind.

“It’s hard,” I said, knowing how lame that sounded. “Trying to hold it and throw it
is just like an ordinary physical thing. I have to do that while still controlling
the magic.”

“Exactly.” Ms. Terwilliger seemed very pleased. “And that’s where the practice comes
in.”

Fortunately, it didn’t take too many attempts before I figured out how to make it
all work together. Adrian cheered me on when I successfully managed to throw my first
fireball, resulting in a beautiful shot that perfectly hit the rock I’d been aiming
for. I flashed Ms. Terwilliger a triumphant look and waited for the next spell we’d
be moving on to. To my surprise, she didn’t seem nearly as impressed as I expected
her to be.

“Do it again,” she said.

“But I’ve got it down,” I protested. “We should try something else. I was reading
the other part of the book—”

“You have no business doing that yet,” she scolded. “You think this is exhausting?
You’d pass out attempting one of the more advanced spells. Now.” She pointed at the
hard desert floor. “Again.”

I wanted to tell her that it was impossible for me not to read ahead in a book. It
was just how I operated with all my classes. Something told me now was not the best
time to bring that up.

She made me practice the throw over and over. Once she was convinced I had it down,
she had me work on increasing the fire’s heat. I finally managed to get up to yellow
but could go no farther. Then I had to work on casting the spell without the ashes.
Once I reached that milestone, it was back to practicing the throws. She picked various
targets for me, and I hit them all effortlessly.

“Just like Skee-Ball,” I muttered. “Easy and boring.”

“Yes,” Ms. Terwilliger agreed. “It’s easy hitting inanimate objects. But moving targets?
Living targets? Not quite so easy. So, let’s move on to that, shall we?”

The fireball I’d been holding above my hand vanished as shock shattered my control.
“What do you mean?” If she expected me to start aiming at birds or rodents, she was
in for a rude awakening. There was no way I was going to incinerate something
alive
. “What am I supposed to hit?”