Bloodlines (Bloodlines #1)(86)

Adrian's smile faded. His gaze turned inward. "Yes. No. It's hard to get over someone like that. She had a huge effect on me, both good and bad. That's hard to move past. I try not to think about her much in terms of love and hate. Mostly I'm trying to get on with my life. With mixed results, unfortunately."

We soon reached the college. Wes Regan was a big man with a salt-and-pepper beard who worked in Carlton's registration office. Ms. Terwilliger had tutored Wes's niece for free one summer, and Wes felt he owed her a favor.

"Here's the deal," he said once we were seated across from him. Adrian was wearing khaki pants and a sage-colored button-down shirt that would've been great for job interviews. A little too late. "I can't just enroll you. College applications are long and require transcripts, and there's no way you can swing one in two days. What I can do is get you in as an auditor."

"Like with the IRS?" asked Adrian.

"No. Auditing means you're attending the class and doing the work but not getting a grade for it."

Adrian opened his mouth to speak, and I could only imagine what comment he had about doing work for no credit. I quickly interrupted him.

"And then what?"

"Then, if you can throw together an application in, oh, a week or two - and are accepted - I can retroactively change you to student status."

"What about financial aid?" asked Adrian, leaning forward. "Can I get some money for this?"

"If you qualify," said Wes. "But you can't really file for it until you've been accepted."

Adrian slumped back, and I was able to guess his thoughts. If getting enrolled would take a couple of weeks, there'd undoubtedly be a delay with the financial aid filing too. Adrian was looking at a month or more of living with Clarence, and that was probably optimistic. I half-expected Adrian to get up and nix everything. Instead, a resolute expression crossed his face. He nodded.

"Okay. Let's get started with this auditing thing."

I was impressed.

I was also jealous when Wes brought out the course catalog. I'd been able to lull myself into contentment with Amberwood's classes, but looking at real college offerings showed me the two schools were worlds away. The history classes were more focused and in depth than anything I could have imagined. Adrian had no interest in those, however. He immediately honed in on the art department.

He ended up signing up for two introductory courses in oil painting and in watercolors. They met three times a week and were conveniently back-toback. "That'll make it easier if I'm busing in," he explained as we were leaving.

I gave him a startled look. "You're taking the bus?"

He seemed amused by my astonishment. "What else? Classes are in the daytime. You can't take me."

I thought about Clarence's remote house. "Where on earth would you catch the bus?"

"There's a stop about a half mile away. It transfers to another bus that goes to Carlton. The whole trip takes about an hour."

I confess, it left me speechless. I was amazed that Adrian had researched that much, let alone was willing to go to all that trouble. Yet on the ride back, he never uttered one word of complaint about how inconvenient it would be or how long he'd have to wait to move out of Clarence's.

When I arrived back at Amberwood, I was excited to tell Jill the news about Adrian's collegiate success - not that she needed me to tell her. With the bond, she would probably know more than I did. Still, she always worried about him and would undoubtedly be pleased to see something go well for him. Jill wasn't in our room when I returned, but a note informed me she was studying elsewhere in the dorm. The only bright part of her punishment was that it limited where she could be at any time. I decided to use this opportunity to go make Ms. Terwilliger's crazy amulet. I'd accrued most of the necessary ingredients, and along with compliance from the biology teacher, Ms. Terwilliger had secured me access to one of the chemistry labs. No one was there this time of night, and it gave me plenty of space and quiet to mix up the concoction.

As we'd noted, the instructions were extremely detailed and - in my opinion - superfluous. It wasn't enough to just measure out the nettle leaves. The instructions called for them "to rest for an hour," during which time I was supposed to say to them, "into thee, flame I imbue" every ten minutes. I also had to boil the agate stone "to infuse it with heat." The rest of the instructions were similar, and I knew there was no way Ms. Terwilliger would actually know if I followed everything to the letter - particularly the chants. Still, the whole purpose of this stunt was to report on what it was like to be an ancient practitioner. So, I followed everything dutifully and concentrated so hard on performing every step perfectly that I soon fell into a lull where nothing existed except the spell.

I finished over two hours later and was surprised at how exhausted I felt. The final result certainly didn't seem to justify all the energy I'd expended. I was left with a leather cord from which hung a silk pouch filled with leaves and rocks. I carted it and my notes back to my dorm room, intending to write up my report for Ms. Terwilliger so that I could put this assignment behind me. When I reached my room, I gasped when I saw the door. Someone had taken red paint and drawn bats and fanged faces all over it. Scrawled across the front, in big blocky letters, were the words