so had made Jill “shadow-kissed”—that is, it created a psychic bond between them, one that allowed Jill to feel his emotions and sometimes see through his eyes. As a result, Jill knew more about what went on between Adrian and me than I liked.
I took my car keys out of my bag and reluctantly handed them over to Eddie. He was the only one I trusted to drive my car, and I always let him borrow it when I left town, in case he needed to run errands for our group. “Here you go. I better get it back in one piece. Do
He grinned. “Do I look suicidal? I probably won’t even use it. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport later?”
“You’d miss class,” I said. The only reason I was able to cut school early was because of the unusual nature of my independent study.
“I wouldn’t mind, believe me. I’ve got a science test.” He grimaced and lowered his voice. “I hated physics the first time, you know.”
I couldn’t help a smile. Both Eddie and I were eighteen and had graduated high school, me through homeschooling and him through an elite Moroi and dhampir academy. We couldn’t pose as students without going through the motions of class, however. While I didn’t mind the extra work, Eddie wasn’t as taken with a love of learning as I was.
“No thanks,” I told him. “A cab will be fine.”
The bell rang, and Eddie straightened up in his desk. As Ms. Terwilliger called the class to order, he whispered to me, “Jill’s really bummed she can’t go.”
“I know,” I murmured back. “But we all know why she can’t.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “What I don’t know is why she’s mad at you.”
I turned toward the front of the classroom and pointedly ignored him. Jill was the only one who knew about Adrian’s declaration of love, thanks to that bond. It was another one of those things I wished hadn’t been shared, but Adrian couldn’t help it. Although Jill knew vampire-human romances were wrong, she couldn’t forgive me for hurting Adrian so badly. To make things worse, she was probably personally experiencing some of his pain.
Even if our other friends didn’t know what had occurred, it was obvious that something wasn’t right with Jill and me. Eddie had picked up on it right away and immediately interrogated me. I’d given him a vague excuse about Jill not liking some rules I’d instated for her here at school. Eddie hadn’t bought that, but Jill had been just as close-mouthed on the matter, leaving him clueless and frustrated.
The school day zipped by, and before long, I was in a taxi and on my way to the airport. I’d packed light and only had one small suitcase and my messenger bag, both of which could be carried on. For what seemed like the hundredth time, I took out a small silver and white gift bag and examined its contents. Inside was an expensive crystal sun catcher, the kind meant to be hung on a porch or in a window. It depicted two doves in flight, facing each other. Wrapping it back in its tissue paper, I returned it to its gift bag and then my own bag. I hoped it would be an acceptable gift for the upcoming event.
I was going to a vampire wedding.
I’d never been to one before. Probably no Alchemist had. Although we worked with the Moroi to protect their existence, the Alchemists made it clear they wanted no involvement that went beyond business contact. After recent events, however, both groups had decided it would be good to improve our professional relations. Since this wedding was a big deal, a few other Alchemists and I had been invited.
I knew the couple, and in theory, I was excited to see them married. It was the rest of the event that made me nervous: a huge social gathering of Moroi and dhampirs. Even with other Alchemists there, we’d be hopelessly outnumbered. Being in Palm Springs with Eddie, Jill, and the others had gone a long way in improving my feelings toward their kind. I got along with that little group well and now considered them friends. But even as liberal as I was in such matters, I still possessed a lot of the anxiety other Alchemists had inside the vampiric world. Maybe Moroi and dhampirs weren’t creatures of evil, like I’d once believed, but they certainly weren’t human.
I kind of wished my Palm Springs friends were coming with me, but that had been out of the question. The whole point of Jill and the rest of us being in Palm Springs was to hide her away and keep her safe from those trying to kill her. Both Moroi and Strigoi tended to avoid sunny, desert regions. If she suddenly showed up at a major Moroi function, it would defeat the whole purpose. Eddie and Angeline, another dhampir protecting her at Amberwood, had to stay behind as well. Only Adrian and I had been invited to the wedding, and we were thankfully on separate flights. If anyone had noticed that he and I were traveling together, it could attract attention back in Palm Springs, which could then expose Jill. Adrian’s flight wasn’t even leaving from Palm Springs. He was flying out by way of Los Angeles, two hours west, just to make sure we weren’t linked together.
I had to connect through a different flight in Los Angeles, which reminded me of Ms. Terwilliger’s task. Find one neighborhood in all of Los Angeles’s greater metropolitan area. Sure, no problem. The only thing I had going for me was that the Victorian houses were so distinct. If I could find some historical society, there was a good chance they could direct me toward areas matching that description. It would narrow my search considerably.
I reached my gate at LAX an hour before the scheduled flight. I’d just gotten cozy with Ms. Terwilliger’s book when an overhead announcement declared, “Paging passenger Melrose. Please come see a customer service agent.”
I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Gathering up my things, I approached the desk and was greeted by a cheery airline representative.
“I’m sad to tell you this flight has been overbooked,” she said. From her peppy voice and big smile, she didn’t seem sad at all.
“What’s that mean for me, exactly?” I asked, my dread growing. “I have a confirmed seat.” I dealt with bureaucracy and red tape all the time, but overbooking flights was something I’d never understood. How did that even happen? It wasn’t like the number of seats was a surprise to them.
“It means that you’re no longer on the flight,” she explained. “You and a couple other volunteers gave up your seats to accommodate that family. Otherwise, they would’ve had to be split up.”
“Volunteers?” I repeated, following her gesture. Off to the side of the seating area, a family with seven children smiled back at me. The children were tiny and adorable, with big eyes and the kind of cuteness you saw in musicals about orphans finding new homes. Outraged, I turned back toward the agent. “How can you do that? I checked in way ahead of time! I have a wedding to get to. I can’t miss it.”
The woman produced a boarding pass. “We’ve more than made up for it. We’ve booked you on another flight, to Philadelphia—one that’s leaving sooner. And you’ve even been upgraded to first class for your inconvenience.”
“That’s something,” I said. I was still annoyed at this, simply out of principle. I liked order and procedure. Altering those threw off my world. I looked down at the boarding pass and then did a double take. “It’s leaving now!”
She nodded. “Like I said, sooner. I’d hurry up if I were you.”
Then, on cue, I heard a last-call announcement for my new flight, saying all passengers need to be on board now, as they were about to shut the cabin doors. I wasn’t the swearing type, but I almost was then—especially when I saw that my new gate was on the opposite side of the terminal. Without another word, I grabbed my things and sprinted toward the gate as quickly as I could, making a mental note to write a letter of complaint to the airline. Through some miracle, I made it just before my new flight was closed to passengers, though the agent working that gate sternly told me that next time, I should plan ahead and allow more time.
I ignored her and headed into the airplane, where I was greeted by a much nicer flight attendant—especially when she saw my first class ticket. “You’re right here, Miss Melrose,” she said, pointing to the third row of the cabin. “We’re so glad you could join us.”
She helped me put my suitcase in the overhead bin, which proved to be pretty difficult since other, earlier passengers had taken up most of the space. It required some creative knowledge of spatial relations, and when we finally managed it, I practically passed out into my seat, exhausted from this unexpected flurry of excitement. So much for a relaxing trip. I had just enough time to fasten my seat belt before the plane began backing up. Feeling a little steadier, I plucked the safety card from its pocket so that I could follow along with the attendant’s presentation. No matter how many times I flew, I always thought it was important to be up to speed on procedures. I was watching the attendant fasten an oxygen mask when a familiar and intoxicating scent washed over me. In all of the chaos of making this flight, I hadn’t even bothered to pay attention to my seatmate.
Adrian.
