The Golden Lily (22 page)

I nearly burst out laughing, and he answered with a small smile. He too was fuly aware of our social ineptitude. Somehow, that was comforting. “Now or never,” I agreed.

We walked over to the dance floor, joining other couples locked in embraces. Caling what most of them were doing

“dancing” was kind of a stretch. Most were just kind of stiffly rocking and rotating around. A few were simply using the opportunity to plaster themselves all over each other and make out. They were quickly puled apart by chaperones.

I took hold of one of Brayden’s hands, and he rested his other on my hip. Aside from the kiss, this was probably the most intimate contact we’d had so far. There were still a few inches between us, but I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed at the change to my normal personal space boundaries. I reminded myself that I liked and trusted Brayden and that there was nothing weird about this. As usual, I didn’t feel surrounded in hearts or rainbows, but I didn’t feel threatened either. Attempting to shift my thoughts from our closeness, I listened to the song and immediately got a feel for its count. About a minute into the song, Brayden realized what I was to shift my thoughts from our closeness, I listened to the song and immediately got a feel for its count. About a minute into the song, Brayden realized what I was doing.

“You … you can dance,” he said in amazement.

I looked up at him in surprise. “Of course.” I was hardly sweeping across the floor in some grand balroom waltz, but all of my movements were timed to the song’s beats. I couldn’t realy imagine how else you would dance. Brayden, meanwhile, was only one step removed from the rigid movements of most of the other couples.

“It’s not hard,” I added. “It’s just kind of mathematical.”

Once I put it into those terms, Brayden got on board. He was a quick study and counted off the beats with me. Before long, we looked as though we’d been taking dance lessons forever.

Even more surprising, I glanced up at him once, expecting to see him concentrating and counting. Instead, he was regarding me with a soft expression … an affectionate one, even. Flushing, I looked away.

looked away.

Amazingly, the smell of coffee still clung to him, even though he hadn’t worked today. Maybe no amount of showering could get rid of that scent. Yet, as much as I loved eau de coffee, I found myself thinking of the way Adrian’s cologne had smeled at Wolfe’s.

When the next fast song came on, Brayden and I took a break, and he excused himself to go talk to the DJ. When he returned, he refused to explain his mysterious errand, but he seemed supremely pleased with himself. Another slow song soon folowed, and we headed back to the dance floor.

And for once, conversation between us stiled. It was enough to just dance for a while. This is what it’s like to lead a simple life, I thought. This is what people my age do. No grand machinations or fights between good and—

“Sydney?”

Jill was standing beside us—a worried expression on her face.

My inner alarms immediately went off, wondering what had caused such a sudden change from her happy, carefree attitude earlier. “What’s wrong?” I asked. My first fear was for Adrian, that she’d sensed something through the bond. I shook the thought. I needed to be worrying about Moroi assassins, not his wel-being.

Jill said nothing but simply nodded toward the punch table, almost exactly where Brayden and I had been earlier. Trey was back, talking animatedly to a girl in a Venetian mask. The mask was beautiful—an icy blue, decorated with silver leaves and flowers. The mask was also familiar. Jill had worn it in Lia’s flowers. The mask was also familiar. Jill had worn it in Lia’s runway show and had been alowed to keep it. Equaly familiar was this masked girl’s outfit, a threadbare shirt and ragged jean shorts—

“No,” I said, recognizing the long, strawberry blonde hair.

“Angeline. How did she get here? Never mind.” There were any number of people she could have sneaked here with. The chaperones probably wouldn’t have noticed her on a shuttle bus.

“We have to get her out of here. If she’s caught, she’ll be expeled for sure.”

“The mask does hide her features,” Jill pointed out. “Maybe no one will notice.”

“Mrs. Weathers wil,” I said, sighing. “That woman’s got a sixth sense for—oh. Too late.” Mrs. Weathers was chaperoning on the other side of the room, but her eagle eyes missed nothing. Peering over the crowded dance floor, I saw her begin making her way toward the punch. I didn’t think she’d made a positive ID on Angeline yet, but her suspicions were definitely raised.

“What’s wrong?” asked Brayden, glancing between Jill and me. No doubt we wore mirrored expressions of dismay.

“Our cousin’s about to get in some serious trouble,” I said.

“We have to do something.” Jil’s eyes were wide and anxious. “We have to get her out of here.”

“How?” I exclaimed.

Mrs. Weathers had reached the refreshments table, just as Trey and Angeline began walking toward the dance floor. I saw her start to go after them, but Mrs.

Weathers didn’t get very far her start to go after them, but Mrs. Weathers didn’t get very far

—because the punch bowl suddenly exploded.

Wel, not the bowl itself. The punch inside exploded, spraying out in a spectacular shower of bright green liquid. There were shrieks as several nearby people got splashed, but it was Mrs.

Weathers who took the brunt of it.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from Brayden. “How in the world did that happen? That must have—Sydney?

I’d cried out and jerked a few feet away, knowing exactly what had caused that bowl to explode. Brayden assumed my reaction was fear of injury. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re too far away for any glass to be over here.”

Immediately, I looked at Jil. She gave me a small, helpless shrug that said, Well, what else was I supposed to do? My usual reaction to Moroi magic was disgust and fear. Tonight, shock and dismay were there too. We didn’t need attention drawn to us. True, no one knew or would even guess that Jill had used vampire water magic to create the punch distraction, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t want any word of weird, unexplainable phenomena leaking out of Amberwood. We needed to stay under the radar.

“Are you okay?” Eddie had suddenly appeared by our side—

or rather, Jil’s side. “What happened?” He wasn’t even looking at the punch. His focus was all on Jil, and just like earlier, she actualy seemed to notice it. Brayden was the one who answered, his eyes alight with intelectual curiosity as he watched teachers scurry and try to clean up the mess.

teachers scurry and try to clean up the mess.

“Some sort of chemical reaction, if I had to guess. Could be as simple as using baking soda. Or maybe some kind of mechanical device?” I gave Eddie a pointed look. “It was a prank,” I said.

“Anyone could’ve done it.”

Eddie looked at me, then looked back at Jil. He gave a slow nod. “I see. We should get you out of here,” he told her. “You never know what—”

“No, no,” I said. “Get Angeline out of here.”

“Angeline?” Eddie’s face registered disbelief. “But how … ?” I directed him toward where she stood with Trey on the dance floor. They, like many others, were staring at the aftermath of the punch explosion with wonder. “I don’t know how she got here,” I said. “It’s irrelevant. She needs to leave. Mrs. Weathers nearly caught her.”

A knowing glint flashed in Eddie’s eyes. “But the punch distracted her?”

“Yes.”

His attention fell back on Jil, and he smiled. “Convenient timing.”

She smiled back. “I guess we got lucky this time.” Their gazes locked, and it was almost a shame to interrupt. “Go,” I told Eddie. “Get Angeline.” He cast one last look at Jill and then jumped into action. I couldn’t hear the conversation as he spoke with Angeline and Trey, but the look on his face would accept no arguments. I could see Trey yielding to family authority, and after a few more could see Trey yielding to family authority, and after a few more arguments, Angeline gave in as wel. Eddie quickly escorted her out, and to my relief, neither Mrs. Weathers nor anyone else seemed to notice.

“Jil,” I said. “It might be best if you and Micah leave early.

You don’t have to go right this second … but soon.” Jill nodded, face sad. “I understand.” Even if no one would connect her to this, it was best if she wasn’t around. Already, I could see people gathering at the table and, like Brayden, trying to figure out what could have caused such a phenomenon. She vanished into the crowd. Brayden finaly looked away from the spectacle. He started to say something to me and then suddenly jerked his head toward the DJ.

“Oh no,” he said, face crestfalen.

“What?” I asked, half-expecting the DJ’s table to colapse or a speaker to catch on fire.

“This song. I requested it for you … but it’s almost over.” I tilted my head to listen. I didn’t know the song, but it was slow and romantic and made me feel … wel, kind of guilty.

Here it was, a sentimental gesture from Brayden, ruined by my

“family’s” wacky hijinks. I caught hold of his hand.

“Wel, it’s not over yet. Come on.”

We were able to dance to the last minute of it, but it was clear that Brayden was disappointed. I wanted to make it up to him somehow and, in spite of everything that had happened, still have the normal high school dance experience I’d wanted.

“The night’s young,” I teased. “I’ll go request one for you, and

“The night’s young,” I teased. “I’ll go request one for you, and then you can try to guess when it comes on.” Considering I didn’t listen to the radio, it probably wouldn’t be that hard to guess. I made the request and then joined Brayden for another slow song. I was still a little anxious about what had happened earlier but told myself all was well now. Jill had left. Eddie had taken care of Angeline. All I had to do was relax and—

A vibration startled me as I danced. I was wearing a tiny, red dress purse over my shoulder. It was lost in the folds of my gown, but the buzz of my cell phone was unmistakable.

Apologizing to Brayden, I stopped dancing to check the message. It was from Adrian: We need 2 talk.

Great, I thought as my heart sank. Could this night be any more of a disaster?

I texted back: I’m busy.

His response: I’ll be fast. I’m close by.

A feeling of dread crept over me: How close?

The response was about as bad as I could expect: The parking lot.

“OH, LORD,” I SAID.

“What’s wrong?” asked Brayden. “Is everything okay?”

“Hard to say.” I put the phone back in my purse. “I hate to do this, but I have to go take care of something outside. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

I hesitated. “No, it’s okay.” I had no idea what to expect out there. It was best if Brayden wasn’t subjected to it. “I’ll hurry.”

“Sydney, wait.” Brayden caught hold of my arm. “This … this is the song you requested, isn’t it?” The one we’d been dancing to had just ended, and a new one was on—or, wel, an old one.

It was about thirty years old.

I sighed. “Yes. It is. I’ll be fast, I promise.” The temperature outside was pleasant, warm but not oppressively so. We were alegedly due for a rare bit of rain. As I walked toward the parking lot, some of Wolfe’s lessons came back to me. Check your surroundings. Watch for people lurking near cars. Stay in the light. Make sure to—

“Adrian!”

All reasonable thoughts vanished from my head. Adrian was All reasonable thoughts vanished from my head. Adrian was lying on my car.

I ran over to Latte as fast as the dress would alow me. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Get off of there!” I automaticaly checked for dents and scratches.

Adding insult to injury, Adrian was actualy smoking as he lay on the hood and stared up at the sky. Clouds were moving in, but a half-moon could occasionaly be seen. “Relax, Sage. I won’t leave a scratch. Realy, this is surprisingly comfortable for a family car. I would’ve expected—” He turned his head toward me and froze. I had never seen him so still—or so quiet. His shock was so thorough and intense that he actualy dropped his cigarette.

“Ahh,” I cried, springing forward, lest the burning cigarette damage the car. It landed harmlessly on the asphalt, and I quickly stamped it out. “For the last time, will you get off of there?”

Adrian slowly sat up, eyes wide. He slid off the hood and didn’t seem to leave any marks. Obviously, I’d have to check it later. “Sage,” he said. “What are you wearing?” I sighed and stared down at the dress. “I know. It’s red.

Don’t start. I’m tired of hearing about it.”

“Funny,” he said. “I don’t think I could ever get tired of looking at it.”

Those words drew me up short, and a rush of heat went through me. What did he mean? Was I so outlandish-looking that he couldn’t stop staring at the crazy spectacle?

Surely … surely he wasn’t implying that I was pretty …

Surely … surely he wasn’t implying that I was pretty …

I promptly got back on track, reminding myself that I needed to think about the guy inside, not out here. “Adrian, I’m on a date. Why are you here? On my car?”

“Sorry to interrupt, Sage. I wouldn’t have been on your car if they’d let me into the dance,” he said. A little of his earlier awe had faded, and he relaxed into a more typical Adrian pose, leaning back against Latte. At least he was standing and less likely to do damage.

“Yeah. They generaly frown on letting twenty-something guys into high school events. What did you want?”

“To talk to you.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but the only response I received was a brief flash of lightning above. It was Saturday, and I’d been around campus all day, during which he could’ve easily caled. He’d known the dance was tonight. Then, inhaling the smell of alcohol that hung in the air around him, I knew nothing he did should realy surprise me tonight.

“Why couldn’t it have been tomorrow?” I asked. “Did you realy have to come here tonight and—” I frowned and looked around. “How did you even get here?”

“I took the bus,” he said, almost proudly. “A lot easier getting here than to Carlton.” Carlton Colege was where he took art classes, and without his own transportation, he’d come to rely heavily on mass transit—something he’d never done before in his life.

I’d been hoping Sonya or Dimitri had dropped him off—

meaning they’d pick him up again. But of course that wouldn’t meaning they’d pick him up again. But of course that wouldn’t happen. Neither one of them would have brought a drunken Adrian here. “So I guess I have to take you home then,” I said.

“Hey, I got myself here. I’ll get myself home.” He started to take out a cigarette, and I gave him a stern headshake.

“Don’t,” I said sharply. With a shrug, he put the pack away.

“And I have to take you home. It’s going to storm soon. I’m not going to make you walk in the rain.” Another flash of lightning emphasized my words, and a faint breeze stirred the fabric of my dress.

“Hey,” he said, “I don’t want to be an incon—”

“Sydney?” Brayden came striding across the parking lot.

“Everything okay?”

No, not realy. “I’m going to have to leave for a little bit,” I said. “I have to give my brother a ride home. Will you be okay waiting? It shouldn’t be that long.” I felt bad even suggesting it.

Brayden didn’t realy know anyone at my school. “Maybe you could find Trey?”

“Sure,” said Brayden uncertainly. “Or I can come with you.”

“No,” I said quickly, not wanting him and drunken Adrian in the car. “Just go back and have fun.”

“Nice toga,” Adrian told Brayden.

“It’s a chiton,” said Brayden. “It’s Greek.”

“Right. I forgot that was tonight’s theme.” Adrian gave Brayden an appraising look, glanced over at me, and then turned back to Brayden. “So. What do you think of our girl’s ensemble tonight? Pretty amazing, huh? Like Cinderela. Or maybe a tonight? Pretty amazing, huh? Like Cinderela. Or maybe a Greek Cinderela.”

“There’s realy not much about it that’s truly Greek,” said Brayden. I winced. I knew he didn’t mean to be insensitive, but his words stung a little. “The dress is historicaly inaccurate. I mean it’s a very nice dress, but the jewelry’s anachronistic, and the fabric’s nothing that ancient Greek women would have had.

Certainly not that color either.”

“What about those other Greek women?” asked Adrian. “The flashy smart ones.” His forehead wrinkled, as though it were taking every ounce of his brain to come up with the word he wanted. And, to my astonishment, he did. “The hetaerae.” I honestly hadn’t believed he’d retained anything from our conversation in San Diego. I tried not to smile.

“The hetaerae?” Brayden was even more astonished than I was. He gave me a scrutinizing look. “Yes … yes. I suppose—if such materials were hypotheticaly possible in that era—that this is something you’d expect to see find on a hetaera instead of the average Greek matron.”

“And they were prostitutes, right?” asked Adrian. “These hetaerae?”

“Some were,” agreed Brayden. “Not al. I think the usual term is courtesan.”

Adrian was completely deadpan. “So. You’re saying my sister’s dressed like a prostitute.” Brayden eyed my dress. “Wel, yes, if we’re still speaking in hypothetical—”

“You know what?” I interrupted. “We need to go. It’s going

“You know what?” I interrupted. “We need to go. It’s going to rain any minute now. I’ll take Adrian home and meet you back here, okay?” I refused to let Adrian continue to play whatever game he had going to torment Brayden—and, by extension, me. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

“Sure,” said Brayden, not looking very sure at al.

He left, and I started to get into the car until I noticed Adrian trying—and failing—to open the passenger side door. With a sigh, I walked over and opened it for him. “You’re drunker than I thought,” I said. “And I thought you were pretty drunk.” He managed to get his body into the seat, and I returned to my own side just as raindrops splashed on my windshield. “Too drunk for Jailbait to feel,” he said. “The bond’s numb. She can have an Adrian-free night.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” I said. “Though I’m guessing that’s not the real reason you were hitting the bottle. Or why you came here. As far as I can tel, all you’ve accomplished is to mess with Brayden.”

“He caled you a prostitute.”

“He did not! You baited him into that.” Adrian ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the window, watching the rapidly unfolding storm outside. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve decided I don’t like him.”

“Because he’s too smart?” I said. I remembered Jill and Eddie’s earlier comments. “And unmemorable?”

“Nah. I just think you can do better.”

“How?”

Adrian had no answer, and I had to ignore him for a bit as my Adrian had no answer, and I had to ignore him for a bit as my attention shifted to the road. Storms, while infrequent, could come up fast and furious in Palm Springs. Flash floods weren’t uncommon, and the rain was now pouring down in sheets, making visibility difficult. Fortunately, Adrian didn’t live that far away. That was a double blessing because, when we were a couple blocks from his apartment, he said: “I don’t feel so wel.”

“No,” I moaned. “Please, please do not get sick in my car.

We’re almost there.” A minute or so later, I puled up at the curb outside his building. “Out. Now.” He obeyed, and I folowed with an umbrela for myself.

Glancing over at me as we walked to the building, he asked,

“We live in a desert, and you keep an umbrela in your car?”

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

He dropped his keys, and I picked them up, figuring I’d have an easier time unlocking the door. I flipped on the nearest light switch—and nothing happened. We stood there for a moment, together in the darkness, neither of us moving.

“I have candles in the kitchen,” said Adrian, finaly taking a few staggering steps in that direction. “I’ll light some.”

“No,” I ordered, having visions of the entire building going down in flames. “Lie on the couch. Or throw up in the bathroom.

I’ll take care of the candles.”

He opted for the couch, apparently not as sick as he’d feared.

Meanwhile, I found the candles—atrocious air freshening ones that smeled like fake pine. still, they cast light, and I brought a lit one over to him, along with a glass of water.

one over to him, along with a glass of water.

“Here. Drink this.”

He took the glass and managed to sit up long enough to get a few sips. Then, he handed the glass back and colapsed against the couch, draping one arm over his eyes. I puled up a nearby chair and sat down. The pine candles cast fragile, flickering light between us. “Thanks, Sage.”

“Are you going to be okay if I leave?” I asked. “I’m sure the power will be on by morning.” He didn’t answer my question. Instead, he said, “You know, I don’t just drink to get drunk. I mean, that’s part of it, yeah. A big part of it. But sometimes, alcohol’s all that keeps me clearheaded.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Here,” I prompted, handing the water back to him. As I did, I cast a quick look at my cell phone’s clock, anxious about Brayden. “Drink some more.” Adrian complied and then continued speaking, arm back over his eyes. “Do you know what it’s like to feel like something’s eating away at your mind?”

I’d been about to tell him I needed to leave, but his words left me cold. I remembered Jill saying something similar when she was teling me about him and spirit.

“No,” I said honestly. “I don’t know what it’s like … but to me, wel, it’s pretty much one of the most terrifying things I can imagine. My mind, it … it’s who I am. I think I’d rather suffer any other injury in the world than have my mind tampered with.” I couldn’t leave Adrian right now. I just couldn’t. I texted to Brayden: Going to be a little longer than I thought.

Brayden: Going to be a little longer than I thought.

“It is terrifying,” said Adrian. “And weird, for lack of a better word. And part of you knows … wel, part of you knows something’s not right. That your thinking’s not right. But what do you about that? All we can go on is what we think, how we see the world. If you can’t trust your own mind, what can you trust?

What other people tell you?”

“I don’t know,” I said, for lack of a better answer. His words struck me as I thought how much of my life had been guided by the edicts of others.

“Rose once told me about this poem she’d read. There was this line, ‘If your eyes weren’t open, you wouldn’t know the difference between dreaming and waking.’

You know what I’m afraid of? That someday, even with my eyes open, I still won’t know.”

“Oh, Adrian, no.” I felt my heart breaking and sat down on the floor near the couch. “That won’t happen.” He sighed. “At least with the alcohol … it quiets the spirit and then I know if things seem weird, it’s probably because I’m drunk. It’s not a great reason, but it’s a reason, you know? At least you actualy have a reason instead of not trusting yourself.” Brayden texted back: How much longer? Irritated, I answered back: Fifteen minutes.

I looked back up at Adrian. His face was still covered, though the candlelight did a fair job of iluminating the clean lines of his profile. “Is that … is that why you drank tonight? Is spirit bothering you? I mean … you seemed to be doing so well the other day …” other day …”

He exhaled deeply. “No. Spirit’s okay … in as much as it ever is. I actualy got drunk tonight because … wel, it was the only way I could bring myself to talk to you.”

“We talk all the time.”

“I need to know something, Sage.” He uncovered his face to look at me, and I suddenly realized how close I was sitting. For a moment, I almost didn’t pay attention to his words. The flickering dance of shadow and light gave his already good looks a haunting beauty. “Did you get Lissa to talk to my dad?”

“What? Oh. That. Hang on one second.” Picking up my cell phone, I texted Brayden again: Better make that thirty minutes.

“I know someone got her to do it,” Adrian continued. “I mean, Lissa likes me, but she’s got a lot going on. She wouldn’t have just thought one day, ‘Oh, hey. I should call Nathan Ivashkov and tell him how awesome his son is.’ You got her to do it.”

“I’ve actualy never talked to her,” I said. I didn’t regret my actions at all but felt weird at being caled out on them. “But I, uh, may have asked Sonya and Dimitri to talk to her on your behalf.”

“And then she talked to my old man.”

“Something like that.”

“I knew it,” he said. I couldn’t gauge his tone, if it was upset or relieved. “I knew someone had to have prompted her, and somehow I knew it was you. No one else would have done it for me. Not sure what Lissa told him, but man, she must have realy won him over. He was crazy impressed. He’s sending me money for a car.