and looked into the mirror. My reflection was gone. A silvery gray mist hung in front of a building, but I knew the mist wasn’t physical. It was magically produced, a mental barrier to keep me from seeing the image that lay beyond it. Strengthening my will, I pushed my mind passed that barrier, and after a few moments, the mist shattered.
“I see a building.” My voice echoed oddly in the night. “An old Victorian house. Dark red, with a traditional covered porch. There are hydrangea bushes in front of it. There’s a sign too, but I can’t read it.”
“Can you tell where the house is?” My teacher’s voice seemed very far away. “Look around it.”
I tried to pull back, to extend my vision beyond the house. It took a few moments, but slowly, the image panned out as though I were watching a movie, revealing a neighborhood of similar houses, all Victorian with wide porches and creeping vines. They were a beautiful, perfect piece of history set in the modern world.
“Nothing exact,” I told her. “Just some quaint residential street.”
“Go back further. See the larger picture.”
I did, and it was like I drifted up into the sky, looking down upon the neighborhood the way some soaring bird would. The houses extended into more neighborhoods, which eventually gave way to industrial and commercial areas. I continued moving back. The businesses became more and more densely packed. More streets crisscrossed between them. The buildings grew taller and taller, eventually materializing into a familiar skyline.
“Los Angeles,” I said. “The house is on the outskirts of Los Angeles.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by: “Thank you, Miss Melbourne. That will be all.”
A hand suddenly waved across my field of vision, shattering the city image. Also shattered was that state of euphoria. I was no longer floating, no longer made of light. I came crashing down to reality, down to the rocky desert landscape and my stuffy pajamas. I felt exhausted and shaky, like I might faint. Ms. Terwilliger handed me a thermos full of orange juice, which I drank greedily. As the nutrients hit my system and strengthened me, I began to feel a little better. Intense magic use depleted blood sugar.
“Does that help?” I asked, once I’d downed the thermos. A nagging voice inside me started to chastise about how many calories were in orange juice, but I ignored it. “Was that what you wanted to know?”
Ms. Terwilliger gave me a smile that didn’t extend to her eyes. “It helps, yes. Was it what I wanted?” She stared off into the distance. “No, not exactly. I was hoping you’d name some other city. Some city far, far away.”
I picked up my cross and refastened it around my neck. The familiar object brought on a sense of normality after what I’d just done. It also made me feel guilty, looking back on the euphoric high the magic had given me. Humans weren’t supposed to wield magic—and they certainly weren’t supposed to enjoy it. Running my fingers over the cross’s surface, I found myself thinking of Adrian again. Had he ever worn it? Or had he just kept it around for luck? Had his fingers traced the cross’s shape like mine often did?
Ms. Terwilliger began gathering her things. When she stood up, I followed suit. “What does it mean exactly, ma’am?” I asked. “That I saw Los Angeles?”
I followed her back toward the car, and she didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice was uncharacteristically grim. “It means that she’s much closer than I would like. It also means, whether you want to or not, you’re going to have to work on improving your magical skills very, very quickly.”
I came to a halt. Suddenly, I felt angry. Enough was enough. I was exhausted and ached all over. She’d dragged me out here in the middle of the night and now had the presumption to make a statement like that when she knew how I felt about magic? Worse, her words frightened me. What did I have to do with this? This was her spell, her cause. Yet, she’d given the directive with such force, such certainty, that it almost seemed as though
“Ma’am—” I began.
Ms. Terwilliger spun around and leaned toward me so that there were only a few inches between us. I gulped, swallowing whatever outraged words I’d been about to utter. I’d never seen her look like this. She wasn’t scary, not exactly, but there was an intensity I’d never seen before, far different from the usual scattered teacher I knew. She also looked . . . frightened.
“Sydney,” she said, in a rare use of my first name. “Let me assure you that this is not some trick on my part. You will improve upon your skills, whether you like it or not. And it’s not because I’m cruel, not because I’m trying to fulfill some selfish desire. It’s not even because I hate seeing you waste your ability.”
“Then why?” I asked in a small voice. “Why do I need to learn more?”
The wind whispered around us, blowing some of the dried leaves and flowers from my hair. The shadows we cast took on an ominous feel, and the moonlight and starlight that had seemed so divine earlier now felt cold and harsh.
“Because,” Ms. Terwilliger said. “It’s for your own protection.”
CHAPTER 2
MS. TERWILLIGER REFUSED to say much more after that. She drove us back to Amberwood and hardly seemed to know I was there. She just kept muttering things to herself like, “Not enough time” and “Need more proof.” When she finally dropped me off, I tried pressing her for more information.
“What was all that about protecting myself?” I asked. “Protection from what?”
We were parked in the fire lane again, and she still wore that distracted look. “I’ll explain later, in our session tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” I reminded her. “I’m leaving right after my regular classes. Remember? I have a flight to catch. I told you about it last week. And yesterday. And earlier today.”
That brought her back to attention. “Did you? Well, then. I suppose we’ll make do with what we must. I’ll see what I can have for you in the morning.”
I left her for my bed after that, not that I could get much sleep. And when I showed up to her history class the next morning, she was true to her word. Before the bell rang, she walked up to my desk and handed me an old book with a cracked red leather cover. The title was in Latin and translated to
“Reading material for the plane,” she said. She spoke in her usual, addled scholar voice, but I could see a glint of that anxiety from last night in her eyes. “Focus only on the first section. I trust you’ll do your usual thorough job—and then some.”
None of the other arriving students paid any attention to us. My last class of the day was an independent study session on late-antique history, which she served as my mentor for. More often than not, she used the session as a passive-aggressive way to teach me magic. So, her giving me books like this was nothing out of the ordinary.
“And,” she added, “if you could find out where that neighborhood is, it would be extremely useful.”
I was speechless for a few moments. Locate one neighborhood in the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area? “That’s . . . a very large area to cover,” I said at last, choosing my words carefully with witnesses around.
She nodded and pushed her glasses up her nose. “I know. Most people probably couldn’t do it.” And on that semi-complimentary note, she returned to her desk at the front of the classroom.
“What neighborhood?” asked a new voice.
Eddie Castile had just arrived and slid into a neighboring desk. Eddie was a dhampir—possessing a mix of human and vampire DNA that had been passed down from days when the two races mixed. For all intents and purposes, though, he was indistinguishable from an ordinary human. With his sandy-colored hair and brown eyes, he also bore enough resemblance to me to support our cover story that we were twins. In reality, Eddie was here at Amberwood as a bodyguard for Jill. Dissidents among her own kind, the Moroi, were hunting her, and even though we’d seen no sign of them since coming to Palm Springs, Eddie was always vigilant and ready to pounce.
I slipped the red leather book into my messenger bag. “Don’t ask. Another of her wacky assignments.” None of my friends—save Adrian—knew about my involvement with Ms. Terwilliger’s magic use. Well, and Jill by default. All Moroi possessed some sort of elemental magic. Adrian’s was a rare and powerful one called spirit, which could work miracles of healing. He’d used that magic to bring Jill back from the dead when assassins had killed her. Doing
