The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines #3)

I FELT PRETTY BAD about burning down my teacher's house.

Ms. Terwilliger, for obvious reasons, seemed to think that was the least of her problems. She wasn't sure if her insurance would cover the damage, but her company was pretty speedy in sending someone out to investigate the cause. We were still waiting to hear their verdict on coverage, but one thing they didn't report finding was any sign of human remains. Part of me was relieved that I hadn't actually killed anyone. Another part of me feared we hadn't seen the last of Alicia. What silly comparison had Adrian made? The Moriarty to your Holmes. I had to imagine that being hit in the face with razor blades and then left in a burning building would make anyone hold a grudge.

A little investigation eventually turned up Veronica at a Los Angeles hospital, checked in as Jane Doe. Visiting her comatose sister became the greatest of Ms. Terwilliger's priorities, and she harbored hopes of possibly finding a way to undo the spell. Despite how busy she now was, my teacher still managed to urge me to meet her coven, and I agreed for a few different reasons. One was that it was kind of impossible for me to act like I didn't want to wield magic anymore.

The other reason was that I didn't plan on being around.

I was still resolved to go with Marcus to Mexico, and the week flew by. Winter finals were a breeze, and before I knew it, it was Friday, the day before our trip to Mexico. I took a risk by telling my friends goodbye. The safest thing would've been to disappear without a trace, but I trusted them all - even Angeline - to keep my secret and feign ignorance once the Alchemists discovered they had a runaway. I told Trey as well. No matter what had gone down between us, he was still my friend, and I would miss him.

As the day wore on, the dorm grew quieter and quieter - aside from unending Christmas music playing in the lobby. Not wanting to exclude other religions, Mrs. Weathers had also set out a menorah and "Happy Kwanzaa" banner. Tomorrow was officially the last day before everyone had to be out, and a number of people had already left for winter break. I'd finished my own packing, which was light. I didn't want to be burdened down with excess luggage since I really had no idea what to expect in Mexico.

I still had two people I needed to say goodbye to: Adrian and Jill. I'd avoided them both for very different reasons, but time was running out. I knew Jill was just a flight of stairs away, but Adrian was more difficult. We'd been in touch a couple times after the fire, simply to sort out some details, but he'd soon gone silent. No calls, no texts, no dreams. Maybe I should've been glad. Maybe I should've welcomed the chance to leave without any painful goodbyes . . . but I couldn't. My chest ached with the thought of not seeing him again. Even though he was the reason I was leaving, I still felt like I needed some closure.

It's not about closure, Sydney. You want to see him. You need to see him. And that's exactly why you have to leave.

Finally, I took the plunge and called him. It took me so long to work up the nerve that I could hardly believe it when he didn't answer. I resisted the urge to immediately try again. No. I could wait. There would still be time tomorrow, and surely . . . surely he wasn't avoiding me?

I decided to hold off on talking to Jill until the next day. Telling her goodbye was just as difficult - and not just because of what she saw through the bond. I knew she'd think I was abandoning her. In truth, if I stayed and ended up with Adrian, I'd possibly be caught and never be able to help her at all. At least if I was away and free, I could try to help her from the outside. I hoped she'd understand.

Waiting on her gave me the opportunity to take care of an unwelcome errand: returning Malachi Wolfe's gun. I'd never gone to his home without Adrian, and even though I knew I had nothing to fear from Wolfe, there was still something a little unsettling about going to the compound alone.

To my complete and utter astonishment, Wolfe let me into the house when I arrived. All was quiet. "Where are the dogs?" I asked.

"At training," he said. "I have a friend who's an expert dog trainer, and he's giving them some stealth lessons. He used to work for a local K-9 unit."

I didn't think it was in the Chihuahua genetic code to ever be stealthy. I kept that to myself and instead stared around in amazement at Wolfe's kitchen. I'd expected something like a ship's galley. Instead, I found an astonishingly cheery room, with blue-checkered wallpaper and a squirrel cookie jar. If someone had asked me to describe the most unlikely Wolfe kitchen out there, it would've looked something like this. No - wait. On the refrigerator, he had some magnets that looked like ninja throwing stars. That, at least, was in character.