The Indigo Spell

Her characteristic pause was especially painful this time. "I see," she said. "Well, I'll take this all into consideration. This mission is of the utmost importance, believe me. My earlier questioning of your information was not some weakening of our resolve. Your concerns have been heard, and I will decide the best course of action."

It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but hopefully she would be true to her word. I really, really wanted to believe she was on the up-and-up. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Is there anything else, Miss Sage?"

"No, ma'am. And . . . and I'm sorry ma'am."

"Your apology is noted."

Click.

I'd paced while I'd talked and now stood staring at the phone. A gut instinct told me I really had driven Stanton to take some sort of action. The mystery was whether that action would prove beneficial or catastrophic for me.

Falling asleep was difficult after that, and it had nothing to do with Veronica for a change. I was too keyed up, too anxious about what had happened with Marcus and Stanton. I tried to seize that feeling of freedom again, using it to strengthen me. It was only a spark this time, flickering with my new uncertainties, but it was better than nothing.

I fell asleep sometime around three. I had a vague sense of a couple hours passing before I was swept into one of Adrian's dreams, back in the reception hall. "Finally," he said. "I almost gave up checking in. I thought you were going to pull an all-nighter." He'd stopped wearing his suit in these dreams, probably because I always showed up in jeans. Tonight he wore jeans also, along with a plain black T-shirt.

"Me too." I wrung my hands and began pacing here as well. The nervous energy from my waking self had carried over into the dream. "A lot of stuff's kind of happened tonight."

The dream felt real, solid. Adrian was sober. "Didn't you just get back? How much could've happened?"

When I told him, he shook his head in amazement. "Man, Sage. It's all or nothing with you. Never a dull moment."

I came to a halt in front of him and leaned against a table. "I know, I know. Do you think I just made a huge mistake? God, maybe Marcus was right, and there was some compulsion forcing me to be loyal in the tattoo. I'm free for one hour and completely go over the edge with my superior."

"It sounds like you covered your tracks," he said, though a small frown appeared on his face. "But I would be disappointed if they sent you somewhere less stressful. That seems like it might be the worst-case scenario from everything you said."

I started laughing, but it was the hysterical kind. "What in the world's happened to me? I was doing crazy stuff way before Marcus broke the tattoo tonight. Meeting with rebels, chasing evil sorceresses, even buying that dress! Yelling at Stanton is just one more thing on a long list of insanity. It's just like I said at Pies and Stuff: I don't know who I am anymore."

Adrian smiled and clasped my hands, taking a few steps toward me. "Well, first off, I'm the expert in insanity, and this is nothing. And as for who you are, you're the same beautiful, brave, and ridiculously smart caffeinated fighter you've been since the day I met you." Finally, he put "beautiful" at the top of his list of adjectives. Not that I should have cared.

"Sweet talker," I scoffed. "You didn't know anything about me the first time we met."

"I knew you were beautiful," he said. "I just hoped for the rest."

He always got this glint in his eyes when he complimented my looks, like he was seeing so much more than just my actual appearance. It was disorienting and heady . . . but I didn't mind. And that wasn't the only thing I suddenly found overwhelming. How had he gotten so close to me without me even realizing it? It was like he had secret stealth abilities. His hands were warm on mine, our fingers locked together. I still had remnants of that earlier joy within me, and being connected to him amplified those feelings. The green of his eyes was as lovely as usual, and I wondered if mine had the same effect on him. There was a little amber mixed with the brown that he had once said looked like gold.

He's the only one who never tells me to do anything, I realized. Oh, sure, he asked me to do lots of things, often with cajoling and fast talking. But he made no demands on me, not like the Alchemists or Marcus. Even Jill and Angeline tended to preface their requests with, "You have to . . ."

"Speaking of that dress," he added, "I still haven't seen it."

I laughed softly. "You couldn't handle it."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that a challenge, Sage? I can handle a lot."

"Not if our history is any indication. Each time I wear some moderately attractive dress, you lose it."

"That's not exactly true," he said. "I lose it no matter what you're wearing. And that red dress was not 'moderately attractive.' It was like a piece of heaven here on earth. A red, silky piece of heaven."

I should've rolled my eyes. I should've told him I wasn't here for his personal entertainment. But there was something in the way he was looking at me and something in the way I felt tonight that made me want to see his reaction. Breaking the tattoo hadn't affected anything between us, but it - and the deeds I'd done this weekend - had left me feeling bold. For the first time, I wanted to take a risk with him, despite my usual set of logical arguments. Besides, there was nothing dangerous in letting him look.

I manipulated the dream the way he'd taught me. A few moments later, the lacy minidress replaced my jeans and blouse. I even summoned the heels, which bumped my height up. I was still nowhere near as tall as him, but the small boost brought our faces closer together.

His eyes widened. Still holding my hands, he took a step back so that he could take in the whole look. There was almost something tangible to the way his gaze swept my body. I could practically feel every place it touched. By the time his eyes reached mine again, my breathing was heavy, and I was acutely aware that there really wasn't that much clothing between the two of us. Maybe there was something dangerous in letting him look after all.

"A piece of heaven?" I managed to ask.

He slowly shook his head. "No. The other place. The one I'm going to burn in for thinking what I'm thinking."

He'd moved toward me again. His hands released mine and moved to my waist, and I noticed I wasn't the only one breathing heavily. He pulled me to him, bringing our bodies together. The world was all heat and electricity, thick with tension that was only one spark away from exploding around us. I was balancing on another precipice, which wasn't easy to do in heels.