Bloodlines (Bloodlines, #1)(43)

Okay . . . Adrian had apparently told her everything. I would’ve expected more discretion from him, especially with the Lee part.

“We . . . we weren’t setting you up,” I said lamely. “Lee wanted to ask you out anyway.”

“But rather than talk to me, he asked permission from you guys! You don’t control my life.”

“I know that,” I said. “We weren’t trying to!” How had this just blown up right in front of me? “Lee acted on his own.”

“Just like you did when you went to talk to Adrian behind my back.” Her eyes glittered with angry tears, daring me to deny it. I couldn’t and only now realized the wrongness of what I’d done. Ever since she found out she was royal, Jill had watched other people dictate her life for her. Maybe my intentions to get Adrian to talk to her about Micah were good, but I’d addressed them in the wrong way.

“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry that I—”

“Forget it,” she said, slipping a pair of headphones on. “I don’t want to hear any more. You made me look stupid in front of both Adrian and Lee. Not that they’ll even think twice about me in Los Angeles tonight.” She waved a hand at me and looked down at the book in front of her. “I’m done with you.”

Whether she couldn’t hear me because of the music or simply because she’d now chosen to ignore me, I couldn’t say. All I knew was that I once again found myself comparing her to Zoe. Just like with Zoe, I’d tried to do something good for Jill, and it had backfired. Just like with Zoe, I’d ended up hurting and humiliating the one I’d tried to protect.

Sorry, Sage. Last I checked, you aren’t an expert in social matters.

That, I thought bitterly, was the saddest part of all—that Adrian Ivashkov was right.





CHAPTER 10




MY PHONE RANG JUST THEN, saving me from the awkwardness of figuring out what to do about Jill. I answered without bothering to check the caller ID.

“Miss Melbourne? Your services are needed immediately.”

“Ma’am?” I asked in surprise. Ms. Terwilliger’s frantic voice was not what I’d been expecting. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to get me a caramel sauce cappuccino from Spencer’s. There is absolutely no way I can finish translating this document if you don’t.”

There were a million responses I could make to that, none of which were very polite, so I went with the obvious point of logic.

“I don’t think I can,” I said.

“You have off-campus privileges, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, ma’am, but it’s almost campus curfew. I don’t know where Spencer’s is, but I don’t think I can make it back in time.”

“Nonsense. Who’s running your dorm? That Weathers woman? I’ll call down and get you an exception. I’m working in one of the library offices. Meet me there.”

Despite my personal devotion to coffee, getting an “exception” to the school’s curfew seemed kind of excessive for an errand like this. I didn’t like to bend the rules. On the other hand, I was Ms. Terwilliger’s assistant. Wasn’t this part of my job description? All the old Alchemist instincts to follow orders kicked in.

“Well, yes, ma’am, I suppose I—”

She disconnected, and I stared at the phone in astonishment. “I have to go,” I told Jill. “Hopefully I’ll be back soon. Maybe very soon since I’ll be surprised if she remembers to call Mrs. Weathers.” She didn’t look up. With a shrug, I packed my laptop and some homework, just in case Ms. Terwilliger thought of something else for me to do.

With coffee on the line, my teacher’s memory was good, and I found I did indeed have clearance to leave when I went downstairs. Mrs. Weathers even gave me directions to Spencer’s, a coffee shop that was a few miles away. I got the cappuccino, wondering if I’d be reimbursed, and picked up something for myself as well. The library staff at Amberwood gave me a hard time about carrying in beverages when I returned, but when I explained my errand, they waved me on through to the back offices. Apparently, Ms. Terwilliger’s addiction was well known.

The library was surprisingly busy, and I quickly deduced why. After a certain point each night, guys and girls were banned from each other’s dorms. The library was open later, so this was the place to go to hang out with the opposite sex. Lots of people were just there to study too, including Julia and Kristin.

“Sydney! Over here!” called Kristin in a stage whisper.

“Break free of Terwilliger,” added Julia. “You can do it.”

I held up the coffee as I passed them. “Are you kidding? If she doesn’t get her caffeine soon, there’ll be no escaping her. I’ll come back if I can.”

As I continued walking through, I saw a small cluster of students gathered around someone—and heard a familiar and annoying voice. Greg Slade’s.

Curious in spite of myself, I walked over to the edge of the crowd. Slade was showing off something on his upper arm: a tattoo.

The design itself was nothing special. It was an eagle in flight, the kind of generic art all tattoo shops had in stock and copied en masse. What caught my attention was the color. It was all done in a rich, metallic silver. Metallics like that weren’t easy to pull off, not with that sheen and intensity. I knew the chemicals that went into my own gold tattoo, and the formula was complex and composed of several rare ingredients.