The Indigo Spell

"Name it."

"I want to bring someone with me," I said. "You can trust him, I swear. But after Sabrina pulled a gun on me, you have to understand why I'd be a little nervous about walking into your clique."

Marcus looked like he might almost consider it but then suddenly recoiled. "Not Adrian?"

"No, no. This guy's a dhampir. No one who'd be interested in turning you over to the Alchemists, especially if you really are working to protect Moroi. You say you've got a good feeling about me? Then trust me that you have nothing to worry about with him. He'd just be there to make me feel a little safer."

"You have nothing to worry about with us," Marcus said. "We won't hurt you."

"I want to believe you. But I don't quite have that same good feeling you have yet."

He didn't say anything right away and then burst into laughter. "Fair enough. Bring your friend." He shook my hand, as though we were sealing some great bargain. "I'll be in touch later with the details. You won't regret it, Sydney. I swear it."

Chapter Eleven

MARCUS DISAPPEARED TO WHEREVER it was he was hiding out, and I drove home. What he'd said to me still seemed outlandish. I kept telling myself none of it could be true. It made things a lot easier to handle.

Back at Amberwood, I found the usual buzz of evening student activity. It felt comforting after my shocking outing, far removed from fanatics and cryptic spells. My phone buzzed with a text message the minute I stepped into my dorm room. It was from Jill: Come see us when you're back. I sighed. No rest for the wicked, it would seem. I left my purse in my room and then trudged down to the second floor, unsure of what I'd find.

Jill opened her door, looking immensely relieved to see me. "Thank God. We have a situation."

"We always have a situation," I said. I stepped inside and saw Angeline sitting on the floor, back against the wall and a miserable expression on her face. "What happened?"

She looked up quickly. "It wasn't my fault."

The sinking feeling in my stomach increased. "It never is, is it? I repeat: what happened?"

When Angeline refused to say, Jill spoke up. "She gave Trey a concussion with an algebra book."

Before I could even start to parse that, Angeline leapt to her feet. "The doctor said it wasn't a concussion!"

"Wait." I glanced between them, half hoping they'd burst into laughter at the joke they must be playing on me. "You did something to Trey that actually required medical attention?"

"I barely touched him," she insisted.

I sat down on Jill's bed and resisted the urge to crawl under its covers. "No. You can't do this. Not again. What did the principal say? Oh, God. Where are we going to send you?" After Angeline's brawl with a motivational group, it had been made very clear that further fighting would get her expelled.

"Eddie took the blame," said Jill. A small smile crossed her face as she spoke. "There weren't really many witnesses, so Eddie said they were playing around in the library and tossing the book back and forth. He claimed he got careless and threw the book too hard . . . and that it accidentally hit Trey on the head."

Angeline nodded. "That's kind of what really happened with us."

"No, it wasn't," protested Jill. "I saw it. You got mad when Trey told you it shouldn't be that hard to understand that x always has a different value."

"He implied that I was stupid!"

Variables didn't seem like too hard a concept to me, but I could tell under Angeline's bravado that she really was flustered. I always had the impression that back among the Keepers, Angeline had been a queen among her peers. Here she was constantly trying to keep up academically and socially adrift in a world very different from the one she'd grown up in. That would make anyone insecure. And while I questioned if Trey had ever said she was stupid, I could understand how some of his snarky commentary could be perceived that way.

"Did Eddie get in any serious trouble?" I asked. I doubted he'd get expelled for something like this, but it would be just my luck that he'd get the punishment he'd saved Angeline from.

"Detention," said Jill.

"He accepted it very bravely," added Angeline.

"I'm sure he did," I said, wondering if either girl knew they were wearing mirror expressions of adoration. "Look, Angeline, I know the tutoring process must be frustrating, but you have to watch your temper, okay? Trey's just trying to help."

She looked skeptical. "He's got kind of an attitude sometimes."

"I know, but people aren't exactly lining up to fill his position. We need you here. Jill needs you here. Eddie needs you here." I saw some of her indignation fade at the mention of her friends and duty. "Please try to work with Trey."

She gave a weak nod, and I stood up to leave. Jill hurried after me into the hallway. "Hey, Sydney? How was your outing with Marcus?"

"It was fine," I said, certainly not about to dredge up Marcus's alarming revelations. "Informative. And I learned how to play Skee-Ball."

Jill almost looked offended. "You played Skee-Ball? I thought you were supposed to be learning about the Alchemists' secret history."

"We multitasked," I said, not liking her tone.

I left before she could comment further and texted Eddie when I reached my room. I heard what happened. Sorry. And thanks. His response was quick: At least it wasn't a concussion.

I braced myself for snark when I went to meet Adrian the next day. Jill had probably told him about my arcade trip, which would probably elicit a comment like, "Nice to know you're so dedicated to crack the Alchemists. Way to keep your eye on the ball."

When I pulled up in front of Adrian's apartment building, he was already waiting out front for me. As soon as I saw his grim face, my heart stopped. I jumped out of the car, just barely pausing to grab the keys as I went.

"What's wrong?" I exclaimed, jogging up to him.

He rested a hand on my shoulder, but I was too worried to care about the touch. "Sydney, I don't want you to freak out. There's no lasting damage."

I looked him over. "Are you okay? Were you hurt?"

For a moment, his somber expression turned puzzled. Then, he understood. "Oh, you think it's me? No, I'm fine. Come on."

He led me around the back of his building, to the private parking lot used by residents. I came to a halt, my jaw dropping as I took in the terrible, ghastly scene. A couple other residents were milling around, and a police officer stood nearby taking notes. Around us, seven parked cars had their tires slashed.