The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines, #3)(94)

"I want to do a good job here. I want to fulfill our goals and keep Jill hidden. But there have already been so many complications no one predicted - first Keith and then the Warriors. I just never feel like she's fully safe now, even with Eddie and Angeline. It eats at me. And - " I was no actress who could muster tears, but I did my best to make my voice crack. "And I never feel safe. I told you, when I asked to go to the services, how overwhelming it is with the Moroi. They're everywhere - and the dhampirs too. I eat with them. I'm in class with them. Being with other Alchemists this last weekend was a lifesaver. I mean, I'm not trying to dodge my duties, ma'am. I understand we have to make sacrifices. And I've gotten better around them, but sometimes the stress is just unbearable - and then when I heard this thing about the Warriors, I cracked. All I could think about was that I might fail. I'm sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't have flipped out on you. I was out of control, and it was unacceptable."

I cut off my rant and tensed as I waited for her response. Hopefully I'd given her enough to dismiss any thoughts of me being a dissident. Of course, I might have just come off as a totally weak and unstable Alchemist who needed to be pulled from this mission. If that happened . . . well, maybe I'd have to take Marcus up on Mexico.

Her characteristic pause was especially painful this time. "I see," she said. "Well, I'll take this all into consideration. This mission is of the utmost importance, believe me. My earlier questioning of your information was not some weakening of our resolve. Your concerns have been heard, and I will decide the best course of action."

It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but hopefully she would be true to her word. I really, really wanted to believe she was on the up-and-up. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Is there anything else, Miss Sage?"

"No, ma'am. And . . . and I'm sorry ma'am."

"Your apology is noted."

Click.

I'd paced while I'd talked and now stood staring at the phone. A gut instinct told me I really had driven Stanton to take some sort of action. The mystery was whether that action would prove beneficial or catastrophic for me.

Falling asleep was difficult after that, and it had nothing to do with Veronica for a change. I was too keyed up, too anxious about what had happened with Marcus and Stanton. I tried to seize that feeling of freedom again, using it to strengthen me. It was only a spark this time, flickering with my new uncertainties, but it was better than nothing.

I fell asleep sometime around three. I had a vague sense of a couple hours passing before I was swept into one of Adrian's dreams, back in the reception hall. "Finally," he said. "I almost gave up checking in. I thought you were going to pull an all-nighter." He'd stopped wearing his suit in these dreams, probably because I always showed up in jeans. Tonight he wore jeans also, along with a plain black T-shirt.

"Me too." I wrung my hands and began pacing here as well. The nervous energy from my waking self had carried over into the dream. "A lot of stuff's kind of happened tonight."

The dream felt real, solid. Adrian was sober. "Didn't you just get back? How much could've happened?"

When I told him, he shook his head in amazement. "Man, Sage. It's all or nothing with you. Never a dull moment."

I came to a halt in front of him and leaned against a table. "I know, I know. Do you think I just made a huge mistake? God, maybe Marcus was right, and there was some compulsion forcing me to be loyal in the tattoo. I'm free for one hour and completely go over the edge with my superior."

"It sounds like you covered your tracks," he said, though a small frown appeared on his face. "But I would be disappointed if they sent you somewhere less stressful. That seems like it might be the worst-case scenario from everything you said."

I started laughing, but it was the hysterical kind. "What in the world's happened to me? I was doing crazy stuff way before Marcus broke the tattoo tonight. Meeting with rebels, chasing evil sorceresses, even buying that dress! Yelling at Stanton is just one more thing on a long list of insanity. It's just like I said at Pies and Stuff: I don't know who I am anymore."

Adrian smiled and clasped my hands, taking a few steps toward me. "Well, first off, I'm the expert in insanity, and this is nothing. And as for who you are, you're the same beautiful, brave, and ridiculously smart caffeinated fighter you've been since the day I met you." Finally, he put "beautiful" at the top of his list of adjectives. Not that I should have cared.

"Sweet talker," I scoffed. "You didn't know anything about me the first time we met."

"I knew you were beautiful," he said. "I just hoped for the rest."

He always got this glint in his eyes when he complimented my looks, like he was seeing so much more than just my actual appearance. It was disorienting and heady . . . but I didn't mind. And that wasn't the only thing I suddenly found overwhelming. How had he gotten so close to me without me even realizing it? It was like he had secret stealth abilities. His hands were warm on mine, our fingers locked together. I still had remnants of that earlier joy within me, and being connected to him amplified those feelings. The green of his eyes was as lovely as usual, and I wondered if mine had the same effect on him. There was a little amber mixed with the brown that he had once said looked like gold.