The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines, #3)(84)

"In the archives."

"Yes."

"Doesn't sound so bad," I told him. I wasn't entirely lying. "Lots of books."

"Don't fool yourself, Sydney." He began tearing a pumpernickel roll into pieces. "I'm a glorified librarian."

Maybe so, but that wasn't my concern. What was my concern was Wade telling me that the archives were on a secure level, one floor up from the surveillance room that held security footage. He'd drawn me a map of each floor, making sure I memorized the layout and the best ways to get in and out.

"I'd still love to see them," I said. "I mean, the history they contain is amazing." Again, not entirely a lie. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes drop to my plunging neckline again. This wasn't that difficult! Really, I didn't know why I hadn't been using my "womanly charms" a long time ago. Actually, I never really knew I had any, until now. "Could you get me in for a tour? Of the archives specifically. You seem like the kind of guy who could get access to . . . a lot of places."

Ian choked on his roll. After a bout of coughing, he glanced up at my face, then my cleavage (again), and then back to my face. "I'd, um, love to, but it's not really open to the public - I mean, even the Alchemist public. Only those with special scholar access are allowed in. We could look at the general access parts of the building, though."

"Oh. I see." I looked down at my plate, pouting slightly, but didn't say anything else. As the waiter arrived with our food, I hoped my silence was making him reconsider what he could be missing out on.

Eventually, Ian couldn't take it anymore. He cleared his throat, maybe because there was still bread stuck in it. "Well, I might be able to . . . you see, the problem is just getting you down to the secure levels. Once you're through that checkpoint, it's not hard to get you into the archives - especially if I'm working."

"But you can't do anything about the main checkpoint?" I coaxed, as if all real men should be able to do that.

"No, I mean . . . maybe. I've got a friend who works there. I don't know if he's got a shift tomorrow, but he still might be able to help. He owes me some money, so I can use this as a trade. I hope."

"Oh, Ian." I flashed him a smile that I hoped rivaled one of Marcus's. "That's amazing." I remembered what Adrian had said. "I'd be so, so grateful if you could pull it off."

My reaction clearly delighted Ian, and I wondered if Adrian had been right about how "so, so grateful" was translated. "I'll call him tonight after the service," Ian said. He looked determined now. "Hopefully we can make it happen before your flight tomorrow."

I rewarded him by hanging on his every word for the rest of dinner, as though I'd never heard anything quite so fascinating. All the while, my heart raced with the knowledge that I was now one step closer to fulfilling Marcus's task, one step closer to potentially proving a connection to a bunch of gun-toting zealots and the organization I'd served my whole life.

The salad was tiny, so I agreed to see the dessert menu after dinner. Ian suggested we share, but that was a little too intimate for me, not to mention unhygienic. So, I ate an entire lemon tart by myself, confident in the knowledge that I was still a long ways from the five-pound mark. When Adrian had told me I'd look healthier if I gained a little weight, he'd added that it would improve my bra size. I couldn't even imagine what that would do for this dress.

The Alchemist center in St. Louis was contained inside a giant, industrial building that went undercover as a manufacturing plant. Moroi facilities - the court and their schools - usually posed as universities. How ironic that "creatures of the night" would live among beautifully landscaped gardens while "servants of the light" like us skulked in ugly buildings with no windows.

Inside, however, everything was pristine, bright, and well-organized. A receptionist checked us in when we arrived at the main desk and buzzed us through, along with many others who arrived for the service. There were golden lilies everywhere. For many, this was a fun-filled family event, and lots of children trailed their Alchemist parents. It made me feel strange as I watched them, these kids who had been born into our profession. I wondered how they'd feel ten years from now. Would they be excited to step up to the plate? Or would they start questioning?

The center had three floors aboveground and five underneath. People off the street could hardly just come wandering in, but we still took precautions by keeping the more benign offices on the main floor. As we all walked down the corridor to the auditorium, we passed Payroll, Travel, and Maintenance. All the offices had clear windows looking into them from the hall, maintaining the Alchemist ideal that we had nothing to hide.

The secure offices belowground weren't quite so open, however.

I'd been in this facility once before for a training seminar, and it had actually taken place in the auditorium we entered for the service. Despite the spiritual theme of tonight's event, the room bore little resemblance to a church. Someone had gone to the effort of decorating the walls with red-bowed evergreen garlands and setting pots of poinsettias on the stage. The room had a state-of-the-art audio-visual system, including a giant screen that gave a larger-than-life look at whatever was happening onstage. The auditorium's seating was so efficient that even those in the farthest corners had a pretty clear view, so I think the screen was just for emphasis.