The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines #3)(72)

"Earmuffs must be in the house. Be right back."

I continued staring at the wall, knowing my eyes were wide. "There's no way those are all legal."

Adrian's response was unexpected. "Did you notice his eye patch?"

I dragged my gaze from the arsenal. "Um, yes. From the day we first met him."

"No, no. I mean, I swear it was on his other eye last time."

"It was not," I said immediately.

"Are you sure?" asked Adrian.

I wasn't, I realized. Words and numbers were easy for me to memorize. But other details, like clothing or hair - or eye patches - were sometimes easy for me to miss. "That doesn't make any sense," I finally said. "Why would he do that?"

"He's Malachi Wolfe," said Adrian. "Why wouldn't he do that?"

I couldn't argue against that.

Wolfe returned with ear protection. After examining his wall, he selected a small handgun and then unlocked a cabinet containing ammunition. At least he didn't leave a bunch of loaded guns around.

"I'll do that," I told him. I took the gun from him and effortlessly loaded it. He made a small grunt of approval. He gestured toward the far end of the range, to a large paper cutout showing a human silhouette with various targets marked on it.

"Now then," he said. "Don't worry about hitting the - "

I fired, perfectly emptying the clip into the most difficult targets. I handed the gun to him. He handed it back. Behind him, I could see Adrian staring at me with enormous eyes.

"Keep it," said Wolfe. "You passed. You've gotta buy your own ammunition, but as long as you fill out the rental agreement, you're good to go."

As it turned out, the "rental agreement" was a piece of paper where he wrote the gun type on one side and I put my initials on the other. "Really?" I asked. "That's all I need to do? I mean, I'm glad, but . . ." I didn't really know what else to say.

Wolfe waved off my protests. "You're a good kid. If you say you need a gun, I believe you. Someone giving you trouble?"

I slipped the gun into my messenger bag. "Something like that."

Wolfe glanced over at Adrian. "What about you? You need a gun too?"

"I'm good," said Adrian. "Besides, I haven't had the training. Safety first."

Wolfe opened up the ammunition cabinet again and produced a long wooden tube and a sandwich bag of what looked like small darts. "You want to borrow my blowgun? Not much of a learning curve on this. I mean, you'll never be able to match the skill and cunning of the Amazonian warriors that I stole this from, but it can get you out of a pinch."

"Thanks, but I'll take my chances," Adrian said after several long moments. He almost sounded as though he'd considered it.

I was still hung up on Wolfe's other words, not sure I believed what I'd heard. "You were in the Amazon?"

This time, Wolfe arched the eyebrow above his eye patch. "You don't believe me?"

"No, no, of course I do," I said quickly. "It's just, you've never mentioned it before."

Wolfe gazed off beyond us. "I've been trying for years to forget my time there. But some things, you just can't escape."

A very long and very uncomfortable silence followed. At last, I cleared my throat. "Well, thank you, sir. We should get going. Hopefully I won't need the gun for very long."

"Keep it as long as you need," he said. "If I want it back, I'll find you."

And on that disturbing note, Adrian and I left. Although I understood Ms. Terwilliger's reasons for "old-fashioned" defense, I was in no way comfortable having a gun around. I'd have to keep it in my car in case school authorities ever did a search of my room and discovered it. My Alchemist and magical kits were already a liability. I was pretty sure there'd be no talking my way out of a gun.

Adrian returned me to Amberwood. I started to open the door and then paused to glance over at him. "Thanks," I said. "For everything. Going to the inn. Suggesting we see Wolfe."

"Hey, that was worth it just to know Wolfe owns a blowgun."

I laughed. "Actually, I'd be more surprised if he didn't. See you later."

Adrian nodded. "Sooner than you think."

"What's that mean?" I asked, suspicion rearing up in me.

He dodged the question and reached underneath his seat. "I called Alicia," he told me, producing a small box. "She couldn't find your cross. Her housekeeping service had already gone through and cleaned the room, but she says she'll check to see if it got caught up in the bedding. Oh, and I also asked about Veronica. She hasn't been back."

That was disheartening news, but I was touched he'd called. "Thanks for trying."

He opened the box and pulled out a necklace with a tiny wooden cross on it. "I got you a replacement. I mean, I know there's no real substitute, but I wanted to get you something. And don't start about not being able to accept some fancy gift," he said, guessing the protest I was about to make. "It cost me five dollars from a street vendor, and I'm pretty sure the chain is brass."

I bit off my words and took the necklace from him. The cross barely weighed anything. Studying it more closely, I could see a tiny pattern of silver flowers painted on its surface. "The vendor didn't do that. That's your handiwork."