The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines #3)(14)

Even Stanton couldn't keep a straight face. The look of horror in her expression said there were few things more profane than a vampire coming to a human wedding. She looked visibly relieved when we reached the hotel, but we weren't free of Abe yet. Some thoughtful person - probably Colleen - had put us at his table, probably thinking it would be nice to be seated with a Moroi we knew. Abe seemed to take great delight in the awkwardness his presence provided, but I had to admit, it was kind of refreshing to have someone who openly acknowledged the strained relations between us rather than pretending everything was okay.

"There's no blood in that," Abe told us when dinner was served. The three of us were hesitating over cutting into our chicken marsala, even me. "The only blood is in the drinks, and you have to actually ask for those at the bar. No one's going to sneak you something, and the feeders are being kept in another room."

Ian and Stanton still looked unconvinced. I decided I would be the brave one and began eating without any more hesitation. Maybe vampires were unnatural creatures, but they certainly had excellent taste in caterers. A moment later, the other Alchemists joined me, and even they had to admit the food was pretty good.

When the plates were cleared, Ian bravely left for the bathroom, giving Stanton a brief opportunity to lean toward me for a hushed status report. "Everything was okay when you left?" Strained relationship or not, our mission to keep the Moroi stable hadn't changed.

"Fine," I said. "It's all quiet back there. No sign of trouble." She didn't need to know about my own interpersonal drama. Keeping my tone casual, I asked, "Any news about the Warriors? Or Marcus Finch?"

Stanton shook her head. "None. But I'll certainly let you know if we uncover anything."

I answered with a polite smile, seriously doubting her words. I hadn't always liked my Alchemist missions, but I'd spent most of my life following orders without question because I believed my superiors knew what was best and were acting for the greater good. Recent events now made me wonder about that. In thwarting some crazed vampire hunters who called themselves the Warriors of Light, Stanton had withheld information from me, citing that we were on a need-to-know basis. She had brushed it off, praising me for being a good Alchemist who understood such policy, but the incident had made me seethe with anger. I didn't want to be anyone's pawn. I could accept that fighting for a greater cause meant tough decisions, but I refused to be used or endangered because of "important" lies. I'd given my life over to the Alchemists, always believing what they did and told me was right. I'd thought I was important, that they would always look out for me. Now I didn't know.

And yet . . . what could I do? I was sworn and sealed to the Alchemists. Whether I liked what they'd done to me or not, there was no way out, no way to question them. . . .

At least, I'd thought that until I learned about Marcus Finch.

I'd only found about him recently, after discovering he'd once crossed the Warriors of Light by helping a Moroi named Clarence. Although the Warriors usually only went after Strigoi, a rebel group had once decided to target Clarence. Marcus had stepped up and defended Clarence against the Warriors, convincing them to leave him alone. I'd almost believed Clarence was making up the story until I saw a picture of Marcus.

And that was where things got really weird. Marcus seemed to have also crossed the Alchemists. In fact, Clarence and one of the Warriors had hinted that Marcus had at one time been an Alchemist - but was no longer. I hadn't believed it until I saw his picture. He didn't have a golden lily - but a large tribal-looking tattoo done in blue ink that was large enough to cover the golden one, if you were trying to hide it.

Seeing that was life changing. I'd had no idea it was possible to tattoo over something so powerful. I certainly hadn't thought anyone could leave the Alchemists or that anyone would even want to, not with the way our purpose was drilled into us practically from birth. How could someone consider abandoning our missions? How could someone go rogue and just walk away from the Alchemists? What had happened that would make him want to do that? Had he had experiences similar to mine?

And would they let him go?

When I'd asked about him, Stanton claimed the Alchemists had no knowledge of Marcus, but I knew that was a lie. She didn't know I had his picture. His blue tattoo was big enough to cover a lily, and I'd seen metallic hints of one underneath, proving he had indeed once been one of us. And if he'd had the Alchemist mark, then they most certainly knew about him. They were covering him up, and that just intrigued me further. In fact, I was a little obsessed with him. Some instinct told me he was the key to my problems, that he could help me uncover the secrets and lies the Alchemists were telling me. Unfortunately, I had no clue how to find him.

"It's important no one here knows what you're doing, so remember to be discreet," Stanton added, like I needed to be reminded. A small crease appeared between her eyebrows. "I was particularly worried about that Ivashkov boy coming to this wedding. We can't let anyone know you two have more than a passing acquaintance. Little things like that could compromise our mission."

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "You don't need to worry about Adrian. He understands how important our work is. He'd never do anything to compromise it."

Ian returned, and our discussion ended there. Dinner soon gave way to dancing. With the atmosphere more relaxed, a number of Moroi came over to introduce themselves to us. I felt nearly as popular as the bride and groom. Ian shook so many hands that he eventually became immune to it. And as uncomfortable as it was for my companions, I could tell this event was actually accomplishing its goal of smoothing relations between Alchemists and Moroi. Stanton and Ian were by no means ready to be best friends with any of them, but it was clear they were pleasantly surprised at how friendly and benign most of the guests seemed.