Richelle Mead - The Indigo Spell

“Sydney? Are you even paying attention?”

I blinked and glanced over at Marcus. I think it was another of those moments where he couldn’t believe someone wasn’t hanging on to his every word. “Sorry,” I said. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

He grinned. “Well, shift it to beaches and margaritas because your life’s about to change.”

It was always beaches and margaritas with him. “You left out the part about us sealing the tattoo. Unless your tattooist is also a bartender.”

“There you go again, funny and beautiful.” He laughed. “We’re going to have a great time.”

“How long will we be down there?”

“Well, we’ll take care of the tattoos first. That’s the most important thing.” I was relieved to see him taking that seriously. “Then we’ll lie low, enjoy the sights for a few weeks. After that, we’ll come back and follow some leads on other dissatisfied Alchemists.”

“And then you’ll repeat the process?” I asked. In the rearview mirror, I could see the Palm Springs skyline disappearing as we drove north. I felt a pang of longing in my chest. “Get others to retrieve critical information and then free them?”

“Exactly.”

We drove in silence for another minute as I processed his words. “Marcus, what do you do with that information you gather? I mean, what are you going to do about Master Jameson?”

“Keep finding more evidence,” he said promptly. “This is the biggest lead we’ve ever had. Now we can really push forward in finding out more.”

“It’s more than a lead. Why not leak it to the Moroi?”

“The Alchemists would deny it. Besides, we don’t want to be hasty.”

“So what if they do deny it?” I demanded. “At least the Moroi will have a heads-up.”

He glanced over at me with a look that reminded me of a parent trying to be patient with a child. Ahead of us, I saw a sign for the train station. “Sydney, I know you’re eager, but trust me. This is the way we’ve always done things.”

“I don’t know that it’s the right way, though.”

“You have a lot of ideas for someone who just joined up.” He chuckled. I wished he’d stop doing that. “Just wait, and then you’ll understand.”

I didn’t like his condescending attitude. “I think I already understand. And you know what? I don’t think you guys do anything. I mean, you’ve uncovered some amazing information . . . but then what? You keep waiting. You run away and skulk around. How is this really helping? Your intentions are good . . . but that’s all they are.” I could almost hear Jill’s voice: They talk. You act.

Ironically, Marcus was speechless.

“You could do so much,” I continued. “When I first found out about you, you seemed to hold all the potential in the world. Technically, you still do. But it’s being wasted.” He pulled into the train station’s parking lot, still looking utterly stunned.

“Where the hell is this coming from?” he asked at last.

“Me,” I said. “Because I’m not like you guys. I can’t do nothing. I can’t run away. And . . . I can’t go with you.”

It felt good to say that . . . and it also felt right. All week, my brain had been telling me the right thing to do was to walk away before things with Adrian and the Alchemists blew up. And yes, that probably was the smart thing. My heart had never entirely been on board, but I’d tried to ignore it. It wasn’t until I’d listened to both Jill and Marcus that I realized just this once, my brain might have to opt for the less logical solution.

I had to give Marcus credit. He actually looked concerned and wasn’t just put out at not getting his way. “Sydney, I know how attached you are to this place and these people, but it’s not safe for you here. It’s not safe for you anywhere, not as long as the Alchemists are watching. Not as long as your tattoo is vulnerable.”

“Someone told me any life worth living has risks,” I said, unable to hide a smile. I never thought I’d be quoting Jill.

Marcus slammed his fist against the dashboard. “That’s sentimental bullshit! It sounds good in theory, but the reality is completely different.”

“What kind of reality could you have created if you’d stayed with the Alchemists?” I asked. “How much could you have uncovered?”

“Nothing if I was caught,” he said flatly. “And no matter how useless you think we are, I’ve freed dozens of Alchemists. I’ve helped Clarence and other Moroi.”

“You aren’t useless, Marcus. You do good work, but we’re just not on the same path, that’s all. I’m staying and doing things my way. Isn’t that what you said when we first met? Helping the Moroi on our own terms? These are mine.”

“You’re wasting your time!”

“It’s my time to waste,” I said. Adrian had said exactly the same thing to me on the flight to the wedding, when I’d told him he couldn’t keep loving me. I felt bad for Marcus. I really did, especially since he’d truly been counting on me to come with him.

He caught hold of my hand. “Sydney, please don’t do this,” he begged. “No matter how confident you feel, no matter how careful you think you are, things will spiral out of control.”

“They already have,” I said, opening the passenger door. “And I’m going to stop fighting them. Thank you for everything, Marcus. I mean it.”

“Wait, Sydney,” he called. “Just tell me one thing.”

I glanced back and waited.

“Where did this come from? When you called me to tell me you were coming, you said you’d realized it was the smart thing to do. What made you change your mind?”

I gave him a smile that I hoped was as dazzling as one of his. “I realized I’m in love.”

Marcus, startled, looked around as though he expected to see my objet d’amour in the car with us. “And you just realized that? Did you just have some sort of vision?”

“Didn’t need to,” I said, thinking of Wolfe’s ill-fated trip to the Orkneys. “It’s always been right in front of me.”

ONCE MARCUS FINALLY ACCEPTED that I wasn’t going, he wished me well, though he still wore that stunned expression. He’d planned on abandoning the car at the station but handed the keys over to me as a parting gift. I watched him walk away and wondered if I’d made a mistake. Then I thought of green, green eyes and all the work Adrian and I had to do together. This was the right choice . . . I just hoped I wasn’t too late.

He still wasn’t answering my calls. Did he hate me? Or was he holed up somewhere, depressed and drinking away his sorrows? I fished his note out of my purse, wondering what I’d find. Knowing Adrian, I’d expected some long, flowery expression of love. Instead, all I found was a long series of numbers.

The numbers meant nothing to me. I studied them for a while in the car, applying a few common codes I knew. No answer appeared, though I wasn’t entirely surprised. Codes and complex mathematics weren’t exactly Adrian’s style. But then, why had he left the note? Obviously, he assumed I could decipher it.

I held the note far away from me, hoping something visual would reveal itself. It did. As I looked at the numbers again, I saw a natural break in the middle of them, in a format that looked familiar. I entered the two sets of numbers into the latitude and longitude screen of my GPS. A moment later, it turned up an address in Malibu. Southern California. Was that a coincidence?

Without even thinking twice, I pulled out of the train station’s parking lot and headed toward the coast. It was entirely possible I was about to waste two and a half hours (five, if you counted the round trip), but I didn’t think so. There are no coincidences.