The Indigo Spell (26 page)

Ian and I found two seats near the middle of the auditorium. “Aren’t you going to
take off your coat?” he asked hopefully.

No way was I going to unleash the dress in this den of taupe and high collars. Besides,
if I kept the coat on, it would just give him something to keep looking forward to.
Adrian would be proud of my ability to manipulate the opposite sex . . . and I couldn’t
help but wonder just how well Adrian would be able to stand up to this dress. Clearly,
I was getting overly confident with this new power.

“I’m cold,” I said, pulling the coat tighter. It was kind of ridiculous since the
lights from the stage and high number of bodies had already made the room stifling,
but I figured since it was so cold outside, I could get away with it.

For someone who always seems to be so cold, you sure can warm up pretty fast.

“Sydney? Is that you?”

I froze, not from the shock of hearing my name, but from the voice that had said it.
I’d know that voice anywhere. Slowly, I turned away from Ian and looked up into my
father’s face. He was standing in the aisle, wearing a heavy wool suit, with melted
snowflakes in his graying dark blond hair.

“Hi, Dad,” I said. Then I saw who was standing beside him. “Zoe?”

It was all I could do not to jump up and hug her. I hadn’t seen or spoken to my younger
sister since that night I’d been pulled out of bed and sent on my Palm Springs mission.
That was the mission she believed I’d stolen from her, no matter my protests. It was
the mission that had driven her away from me.

I eyed her now, trying to assess where we stood. She didn’t wear the blatant hatred
she had at our last meeting, which was a good sign. Unfortunately, she didn’t look
all that warm and friendly either. She was cautious, studying me carefully—almost
warily. She did not, I noticed, have a golden lily on her cheek yet.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” said my father.

His parting words to me had been “Don’t embarrass me,” so I wasn’t really astonished
by his low expectations. “It’s the holidays,” I said. Forcing a smile now was far
more difficult than it had been with Ian. “It’s important to be here with the group.
Do you know Ian Jansen?”

Ian, wide-eyed, jumped up and shook my father’s hand. Clearly, he hadn’t expected
a parental meeting so soon. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

My father nodded gravely and looked back and forth between the two of us. Whatever
surprise he’d had at seeing me here had just been trumped by me being here with a
date. Glancing at Ian, I tried to guess how he’d appear to someone like my dad. Clean
cut, respectful, an Alchemist. The fact that Ian tended to bore me was irrelevant.
I doubted my father had ever thought much about me dating, but if so, he probably
hadn’t thought I’d get a catch like this.

“Would you like to join us, sir?” asked Ian. I had to give him credit; he’d overcome
his initial shock and was now in proper suitor mode. “It would be an honor.”

At first, I thought Ian was just laying it on thick. Then I realized meeting my father
might actually very well be an honor. Jared Sage wasn’t a rock star, but he did have
a reputation among the Alchemists that, by their standards, was outstanding. My father
seemed to like the flattery and agreed. He took a seat beside Ian.

“Sit by your sister,” he told Zoe, nodding in my direction.

Zoe obeyed and stared straight ahead. She was nervous too, I realized. Looking her
over, I felt an ache from how much I’d missed her. We’d inherited the same brown eyes
from our father, but she’d gotten Mom’s brown hair, which made me a little jealous.
Zoe also looked a lot more put together than the last time I’d seen her. She wore
a pretty dark brown cashmere dress and didn’t have a single hair out of place. Something
about her appearance bothered me, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first.
It soon hit me. She looked older. She looked like a young lady, like my peer. I supposed
it was silly of me to feel sad, since she was fifteen, but I kind of wished she could
stay a little kid forever.

“Zoe.” I kept my voice low, not that I needed to worry about the men overhearing.
My dad was interrogating Ian. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for so long.”

She nodded. “I know. Mom tells me each time you call.” But there was no apology for
dodging my calls.

“I’m sorry about the way we left things. I never meant to hurt you or one-up you.
I thought I was doing you a favor, saving you from getting involved.”

Her mouth tightened, and something hard flashed in her eyes. “I don’t mind being involved.
I
want
to be involved, you know. And it would’ve been great! Being in the field at fifteen.
I could have a stellar career. Dad would be so proud.”

I chose my next words very carefully so that she wouldn’t take offense. “Yeah, but
another year with Dad will really be, um, stellar. He’s got so much experience—and
you want to get as much as you can, believe me. Even if you have to wait for an assignment
at sixteen, you’ll still be ahead of the rest of us.”

Each word out of my mouth made me feel sick, but Zoe seemed to buy it. I wasn’t bothered
by her wanting to be part of the cause—but it killed me that she was clearly doing
it to impress our dad. “I suppose. And I
am
learning a lot. I wish I could at least get some field experience—even if it’s not
my own post. It’s all theory with Dad. I’ve never even seen a Moroi.”

“I’m sure he’ll fix that.” I didn’t like encouraging this, but at least she was speaking
to me.

The lights dimmed, ending our conversation. Organ music filled the room, and the scent
of frankincense drifted around us. Incense and resin were common components in magic,
and my mind was instantly starting to make associations from the spell books I’d painstakingly
copied.
Frankincense is used to heal burns. It can also be used when casting divining or purifying
spells—

I immediately stopped that train of thought. Even if I was keeping it to myself, thinking
about magic in the middle of an Alchemist church service was pretty sacrilegious.
I shifted uncomfortably, wondering what all these people would think if they knew
the truth about me: that I practiced magic and had kissed a vampire. . . .

Alchemist priests were called hierophants. They performed blessings and offered moral
advice, when needed. In day-to-day affairs, they wore suits, but for this occasion,
the lead hierophant wore robes that reminded me uncomfortably of the robes some of
the Warriors had donned. It was yet another reminder of our shared history—and maybe
our shared future. Marcus had been right. This was a mystery I had to solve, regardless
of where I stood on breaking the tattoo.

I’d attended services like this off and on throughout my life and knew the Latin prayers
by heart. I chanted along with the rest of the congregation and listened avidly as
the hierophant reaffirmed our goals, his voice echoing through the sound system. Even
though the Alchemists’ religion had loose connections to Christianity, there was very
little mention of God or Jesus or even Christmas. Most of his sermon was about how
we had to help protect humanity from the temptation of following Strigoi who offered
unholy immortality. That warning, at least, wasn’t exaggerated.

I’d heard stories and even seen for myself what happened when humans decided to serve
Strigoi. Those Strigoi promised to turn their servants as a reward. Those humans helped
Strigoi spread their evil and became monsters themselves, no turning needed. Keeping
those dark vampires hidden was for the good of weak humans who couldn’t protect themselves.
I paid especially close attention when the hierophant mentioned the Moroi offhandedly
in his sermon, as a means to an end in defeating the Strigoi. He didn’t exactly inspire
warm and fuzzy feelings about them, but at least he wasn’t calling for Moroi and dhampir
destruction either.

I agreed with a good part of the message, but it no longer filled me with the fire
it once had. And when the hierophant started droning on and on about duty, obedience,
and what was “natural,” I really began feeling disconnected. I almost wished there
was more talk of the divine, like you’d find at a normal church service. With everything
going on in my life, I wouldn’t have minded a connection to a higher power. Sometimes,
when I listened to the hierophant, I wondered if everything he was saying had just
been made up by a bunch of people sitting around in the Middle Ages. No holy mandate
required.

I felt like a traitor when the service ended. Maybe Adrian’s joke had been right:
I didn’t even need Marcus to break my tattoo and connection to the group. Glancing
at my companions—and even the other Alchemists in the room—it was clear I was alone.
All of them looked captivated by the sermon, devoted to the cause.

I was again eerily reminded of the Warriors and their fanatical devotion.
No, no, whatever else the Alchemists are guilty of, we have nothing to do with that
kind of unhinged behavior.
And yet . . . it was more complicated than that, I realized. The Alchemists didn’t
shoot first and ask questions later or make our members battle each other. We were
civilized and logical, but we did have a tendency to just do what we were told. That
was the similarity, one that could be dangerous.

Zoe and my father walked out with Ian and me. “Isn’t it amazing?” she asked. “Hearing
that . . . well, it just makes me so glad Dad decided to raise another Alchemist in
the family. It’s good to boost our numbers.”

Had that truly been his motivation? Or was it because he didn’t trust me after I’d
helped Rose?

It was infuriating that the only conversation I could have with Zoe centered around
Alchemist rhetoric, but I’d take it over the silence of the last few months. In my
heart, I longed to talk the way we used to. I wanted it back. Even though she’d warmed
up a little, that old familiarity that had once existed between us was gone.

“I wish we had more time,” I told her once our groups were ready to part in the parking
lot. “There’s so much I want to talk to you about.”

She smiled, and there was a genuineness in it that warmed me. Maybe the distance between
us wasn’t irreparable. “Me too. I’m sorry about . . . well, the way things were. I
hope we get some time together soon. I . . . I’ve missed you.”

That nearly broke me down, as did her hug. “We’ll be together soon, I promise.”

Ian—whom my father now seemed to regard as a future son-in-law—drove me back to my
hotel and couldn’t stop gushing about how awesome it had been to meet Jared Sage.
As for me, I could still feel where Zoe had hugged me.

Ian promised he’d get in touch with me in the morning about a tour of the archives.
Then, weirdly, he closed his eyes and leaned forward. It took me a moment to realize
that he expected a good-night kiss. Seriously? That was how he went about it? Had
he ever even kissed anyone before? Even Brayden had displayed a little more passion.
And, of course, neither guy measured up to Adrian.

When I did nothing, Ian finally opened his eyes. I gave him another hug—with the coat
on—and told him how happy I was that he’d met my dad. That seemed to satisfy him.

Adrian made his nightly check-in with me once I was asleep later on. Naturally, he
wanted to know about my dress. He also kept trying to find out how exactly I’d won
Ian over and seemed amused at the few details I decided to give him. But mostly I
couldn’t stop talking about Zoe. Adrian soon gave up on the other topics and simply
listened to me gush.

“She spoke to me, Adrian!” I paced around the reception hall, clasping my hands in
excitement. “And she wasn’t mad. By the end, she was happy to see me. Do you know
what that’s like? I mean, I know you don’t have any brothers or sisters, but to have
someone you haven’t seen in a while welcome you back?”

“I don’t know what it’s like,” he said quietly. “But I can imagine.”

I was too caught up in my own joy at the time, but later, I wondered if he was talking
about his incarcerated mother.

“It’s nice to see you so happy,” he added. “Not that you’ve been miserable lately,
but you’ve had a lot to worry about.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that and came to a halt. “Are you saying evil witches
and espionage are stressful?”

“Nah.” He walked over to me. “All in a day’s work for us. But I’m going to make my
way to bed now. You seem like you can get by without me tonight.”

He’d visited me every night since Veronica’s dream. Most of the trips were short now,
but I still knew it was a lot of effort and spirit for him. “Thank you. I feel like
I can’t say that to you enough.”

“You don’t have to say it at all, Sage. Good luck tomorrow.”

Right. Stealing top secret info from a highly secure facility.

“Thanks,” I said again. A little of my mood dimmed, but not all of it. “No matter
what happens, though, patching things up with Zoe makes me feel like this mission
is already a success.”

“That’s because you haven’t been caught.” He cupped my face in his hands and leaned
close. “See that you aren’t. I don’t want to have to dream visit you in prison . . .
or wherever it is bad Alchemists go.”

“Hey, at least I’d have you for company, right?”

He gave me a rueful headshake, and the dream vanished around me.

IAN WOKE ME THE NEXT MORNING
with a super-early phone call. At first, I thought maybe he hoped to sneak in before
the other Alchemists woke up, but it turned out he just wanted to get breakfast beforehand.
Seeing as he’d managed to get me access, I couldn’t very well refuse. He’d originally
wanted to go to the facility in the late morning, but I talked him into going closer
to noon. It meant lingering longer over breakfast, but it was worth the sacrifice.
However, I was strictly back to khakis and a linen top. Espionage aside, cocktail
dresses and breakfast buffets just didn’t mix. As a concession, however, I unbuttoned
two
buttons at the top of my shirt. Openly wearing that into the facility was practically
R-rated, and Ian seemed thrilled by the “scandalous” act.

Sunday at the facility was much quieter than the previous night. Although Alchemists
never really got a break from their duties, most of the center worked normal weekday
business hours. I had no difficulties checking in through the main reception again,
but as predicted, we had a small delay in getting to the secure area. The guy on duty
wasn’t the friend who owed Ian a favor. We had to wait for him to come out from the
back room, and even then, it took Ian a bit of cajoling to convince his colleague
to let me in. I think it was obvious to both of them that Ian was just trying to impress
me, and finally, the first guy relented to what seemed like a harmless errand. After
all, I was a fellow Alchemist, and I was only going on a tour of a library. What could
possibly go wrong?

They searched my purse and made me walk through a metal detector. I had two spells
in mind that I could perform without physical components, so at least I didn’t have
to explain any crystals or herbs. The trickiest part was a thumb drive I’d hidden
in my bra. They might not have questioned me carrying one in my purse, but I hadn’t
wanted to risk it being called out. That being said, if the thumb drive did show up
on the scan, I was going to have a much more difficult time explaining why I was hiding
it. I tensed as I stepped under the scanner, bracing myself to either run or attempt
a Wolfe move. But, as hoped, it was too small to find, and we were waved through.
That was one obstacle down, though it didn’t make me any less tense.

“Did you end up trading this for the money he owed you?” I asked once Ian and I were
descending toward the archives.

“Yeah.” He made a face. “I tried to just swap it out for half of what he owed, but
it was all or nothing for him.”

“So how much is this trip costing you?”

“Fifty dollars. It’s worth it, though,” he added quickly.

Dinner had cost about the same. This was turning into an expensive weekend for Ian,
particularly since I was the only one truly reaping the rewards. I couldn’t help but
feel a bit guilty and had to remind myself again and again that this was for an important
cause. I would’ve offered to pay him back for it all, but something told me that would
counteract everything I’d been working to achieve with my “womanly charms.”

The archives were sealed with electronic locks that opened when Ian scanned his card
key. As we stepped inside, I nearly forgot that coming in here was just a cover for
the larger plan. Books and books and books surrounded me as well as scrolls and documents
written on parchment. Old and delicate items were sealed under glass, with notes and
signs against a far wall on how to access digital copies of them on computers. A couple
of Alchemists, young like us, worked at tables and were transcribing old books into
their laptops. One of them looked excited about her job; the other guy looked bored.
He seemed to welcome the distraction of us entering.

I must have worn an appropriately awed expression because when I turned to Ian, he
was watching me with pride. “Pretty cool, huh?” Apparently being a glorified librarian
had just become a much more exciting job for him. “Follow me.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. We began by exploring the full extent of the archives
room, which stretched back much farther than I initially realized. The Alchemists
prized knowledge, and it was obvious from this collection, which dated back centuries.
I lingered at the shelves, wanting to read every title. They came in different languages
and covered a full range of topics useful to our trade: chemistry, history, mythology,
the supernatural . . . it was dizzying.

“How do you organize it?” I asked. “How can you find anything?”

Ian pointed to small placards on the shelves that I hadn’t noticed. They bore alphanumeric
codes that were part of no filing system I recognized. “These catalog it all. And
here’s the directory.”

He led me to a touch screen panel embedded in the wall. I pressed it and was presented
with a menu of options:
AUTHOR, TIME PERIOD, SUBJECT, LANGUAGE
. I touched
SUBJECT
and was led through a series of more and more specific topics until I finally realized
I’d been searching for “Magic” in the supernatural section. It gave me a list of titles,
each with its own code in the organizational system.

To my surprise, there were actually a number of books on magic, and I burned with
curiosity. Did the Alchemists have records of witches? Or was it all speculation?
Most likely these were moral books preaching the wrongness of humans even considering
such feats.

“Can I browse some of the books?” I asked him. “I mean, I know I can’t sit and read
all afternoon, but there’s so much history . . . I just kind of want to be a part
of it. I’d be so, so grateful.”

I really didn’t think that would work twice, but it did.

“Okay.” He pointed toward a small office in the back. “I need to catch up on a few
things. Do you want to meet back here in an hour?”

I thanked him profusely and then returned to the touch screen. I yearned to investigate
the magic books but had to remind myself why I was here. As long as I was in the archives,
I might as well do some research that would help our cause. I flipped through the
menus until I located the section on the Alchemists’ early history. I’d hoped to find
a reference to vampire hunters in general or the Warriors specifically. No luck. The
best I could do was follow the codes to shelves and shelves detailing our group’s
formation. Most of the books were dense and written in an antiquated style. The really
old ones weren’t even in English.

I skimmed a few and soon realized a task like this would take longer than an hour.
The newer books had no mention of the Warriors, which didn’t surprise me, seeing as
that information was now covered up. If I was going to locate any references to vampire
hunters, it would be in the oldest books. They didn’t have much in the way of tables
of contents or indices, and there was no way I could do a full read. Remembering my
real mission here, I put the books away after about ten minutes and sought out Ian.
That earlier tension returned, and I began to sweat.

“Hey, is there a restroom in here?”

I prayed there wasn’t. I’d seen one down the hall when we’d come to this level. Part
of my plan depended on getting out of the archives.

“Down the hall, by the stairs,” he said. Some work issue had required his attention,
and if my luck held, it would keep his eyes off the clock. “Knock on the door when
you get back. I’ll tell the scribes to let you in.”

I’d had a knot of anxiety in my stomach all day that I’d been trying to ignore. Now
there was no getting around it. It was time for the unthinkable.

Subtlety had no role in Alchemist security. The hallway contained cameras at each
end. They faced each other, providing a long, continuous shot of the corridor. The
restrooms were located at one end of the hall, almost directly under a camera. I went
inside the ladies’ room and verified there were no other people—or cameras—within.
At least the Alchemists allowed some privacy.

Casting the invisibility spell was easy. Getting out was a little more difficult.
The cameras’ position made me think the restroom door was too flush with the wall
for either camera to really get a good look at it. The door opened inward, so I was
able to slip out and feel confident no camera had picked up a ghostly door opening.
The door to the stairs was the real beast. It was in the range of one of the cameras.
Ms. Terwilliger had told me the invisibility spell would protect me from video and
film. So, I had no fear of being spotted. I simply had to take the risk of the camera
recording the door opening by itself.

Although I knew security guards watched live feeds of the cameras, there were too
many for them to scrutinize every second. If no sudden movement appeared on this one,
I doubted any guard would notice. And if things stayed tame on this level, no one
would have any reason to review the footage. But the operations level . . . well,
if everything went according to plan, this sleepy Sunday was about to get a lot more
exciting there.

I slipped in and out of the stairwell, opening the door with absolutely as little
space as possible. The operations level was even more secure than the archives, with
heavy, industrial-looking doors that required both key cards and codes. I had no illusions
about cracking any of it. Entry into the security office, much like the rest of this
task, relied on an odd mix of logic and luck. The one thing you could count on with
Alchemists was reliability. I knew how schedules tended to work. Lunch breaks were
taken on the hour at typical lunch times: eleven, twelve, and one. This was why I’d
asked Ian to schedule our visit to this time, when I could be relatively certain workers
would be moving in and out of the room. Noon was five minutes away, and I crossed
my fingers someone would exit soon.

As it turned out, someone entered. A man came whistling down the hall. When he reached
the door, the smell of fast-food hamburgers gave away his lunch choice. I held my
breath as he scanned his card and punched in the numbers. The lock clicked, and he
pushed the door open. I scurried in behind him and cleared the door without having
to catch it or open it farther. Unfortunately, he came to a halt sooner than I expected,
and I brushed against him. I immediately shrank away, and he scanned around, startled.

Please don’t think there’s an invisible person here.
How terrible would that be to have made it this far, only to be detected now? Fortunately,
magical subterfuge wasn’t the first thing Alchemists turned to as a reason for anything.
After a few more puzzled moments, he shrugged and called a greeting to one of his
coworkers.

Wade had described the room perfectly. Monitors covered one wall, flipping back and
forth between different camera views. A couple of guards kept an eye on the footage,
while others worked away at computers. Wade had also told me which workstation contained
the files I needed. I approached it—careful to avoid any other contact mishaps. A
woman was already seated at the station.

“I was thinking of Thai carryout,” she told one of her coworkers. “I’ve just got
to finish this report.”

No! She was about to take her lunch break. For my plan to work, that couldn’t happen.
If she left, she would lock her computer. I needed it accessible for this plan to
work. She was running late on her lunch, which meant I had to act now.

This room wasn’t exempt from surveillance. Even the watchers had watchers. Fortunately,
there was only one camera. I selected an empty computer with a screen facing the camera
and stood behind it. Wires and cords snaked out of the computer’s panel, and the fans
whirred steadily inside. I rested my hand on the panel and did one more quick assessment.
The computer’s back was out of the camera’s view, but it would do no good if it was
in the middle of someone else’s line of vision. Everyone seemed preoccupied, though.
It was time to act.

I created a fireball—a small one. I kept it in the palm of my hand and rested it right
next to the panel. Despite its size, I summoned as much heat as I could. Not quite
blue, but getting there. It took effect quickly, and within seconds, the cords and
panel began to melt. The scent of burnt plastic rolled over me, and smoke drifted
upward. It was enough. I let the fireball fade, and then I sprinted away from the
computer just in time. Everyone had now noticed the burning computer. An alarm went
off. There were cries of surprise, and someone yelled for a fire extinguisher. They
all rose from their chairs to hurry over and look—including the woman who’d been at
the computer I needed.

There was no time to waste. I sat immediately in her chair and plugged in the thumb
drive. With gloved hands, I grabbed hold of the mouse and began clicking through directories.
Wade hadn’t been able to help much at this point. We’d just hoped finding the files
would be intuitive. All the while, I was conscious of the time—and that someone might
notice a mouse moving by itself. Even after they put out the fire, the Alchemists
hovered around the smoking computer, trying to figure out what had happened. Overheating
wasn’t uncommon, but a fire happening that quickly definitely was. And these were
computers that contained highly sensitive information.

I felt like there were a million directories. I checked a few likely candidates, only
to hit a dead end. Each time I hit a dead end, I would silently swear at the wasted
time. The other Alchemists weren’t going to stay away forever! Finally, after more
stressful searching, I found a directory of old surveillance footage. It contained
folders linked to every camera in the building—including one marked
MAIN CHECKPOINT
. I clicked it open and found files named by date. Wade had told me that eventually
these files were cleared and moved to archives, but the day I needed was still here.
The cameras recorded one frame every second. Multiplied by twenty-four hours, that
made for a huge file—but not nearly the size continuous filming would create. The
file would fit on my thumb drive, and I began copying it over.