I pointed at Eddie with my fork. “Don’t tell me you think Trey’s a bad choice too.”
“For tutoring?” He shook his head. “Nah, he’s fine. I’m just saying you shouldn’t be so quick to assume everything’s happy and bright with him. It seems pretty likely his group’s working against us.”
“He’s my friend,” I said, hoping my firm tone would put an end to the discussion. After a few more assurances, Eddie convinced Angeline to work with Trey, reminding her she needed to keep her grades up. Still, Eddie’s words haunted me. I believed absolutely that Trey was my friend but again wondered when that rift between us would rear its ugly head.
When Eddie and Angeline left to go to their afternoon classes, I asked Jill to hang back at the table for a minute. “What’s Adrian doing right now?”
“He’s in his painting class,” she said promptly.
“The bond must be running strong today, huh?” I asked. Sometimes her view of his mind and experiences was clearer than others.
She shrugged. “No, but it’s eleven on Tuesday.”
“Right,” I said, feeling foolish. I knew everyone’s schedules; it was necessary for my job. “I should’ve realized that. Do you think he’d be able to meet up with me after school?”
“To go on that witch hunt? Yeah, he’d probably leave right now.”
Jill knew what Adrian knew, so she’d also been briefed about my search for Veronica. While I’d learned to accept Jill’s knowledge as part of confiding in Adrian, it was still a little shocking for me to hear these forbidden topics discussed openly. Seeing my stunned reaction, Jill smiled a little.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I keep Adrian’s secrets. And yours.” The bitterness in her voice also caught me off guard.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked, puzzled. “You’re not . . . you’re not still upset about what happened between Adrian and me, are you? I thought you’d eased up on that.” Although Adrian’s proclamation of loving me against the odds had been unsettling, his more relaxed attitude had come through in her until now.
“Adrian has,” she said. “He doesn’t see the danger of you running around with another guy.”
I was lost. “Another guy? You don’t mean . . . Marcus? That’s crazy.”
“Is it?” asked Jill. The bond was so strange at times. Jill was jealous on Adrian’s behalf. “He’s human, you’re human. You’ve both got this rebel Alchemist thing going on. And I saw him. He’s pretty cute. There’s no telling what could happen.”
“Well, I know what could happen: nothing,” I said. Even through a psychic bond, Marcus could win over girls. “I just met him. I don’t even know if I can entirely trust him, and I certainly don’t have any feelings for him. Look, I get that you want to help Adrian, but you can’t be mad at me about what happened. You know why I turned him down—especially after Micah.” Micah was Eddie’s human roommate, and even though she knew human-vampire relationships couldn’t get serious, she’d still been surprised at just how complex and difficult the situation had been.
“Yeah. . . .” She frowned, no doubt conflicted over Adrian’s feelings and what she knew was true. “But maybe with Adrian, I don’t know. Maybe things could be different. Or maybe there’s at least a way to make them less painful for him.”
I looked away, unable to meet her eyes. I didn’t like to think of Adrian in pain, but what else could I do? What did either of them expect me to do? We all knew the rules.
“I’m sorry,” I said, picking up my tray and standing. “I never asked for any of this. Adrian will get over me.”
“Do you really want him to get over you?” she asked.
“What? Why would you even ask something like that?”
She didn’t answer and instead made a great show of stirring around her mashed potatoes. When I realized she wasn’t going to elaborate, I shook my head and walked off toward the exit. All the while, I could feel her watching me as that question echoed in my mind: Do you really want him to get over you?
CHAPTER 9
AS JILL HAD SAID, Adrian was more than happy to begin our hunt that afternoon. In fact, when I finally got ahold of him, he offered to pick me up when classes ended, in order to maximize our time. I didn’t mind this since it meant I’d get to ride in the Mustang. Admittedly, I would’ve preferred to drive it myself, but I’d take what I could get.
“When are you going to name the car?” I asked him once we were on the road to Los Angeles.
“It’s an inanimate object,” he said. “Names are for people and pets.”
I patted the Mustang’s dashboard. “Don’t listen to him.” To Adrian, I said, “They name boats all the time.”
“I don’t really understand that either, but maybe I would if my old man ever fronted me the money for a private yacht.” He shot me a quick, amused look before returning his attention to the road. “How can someone as cold and logical as you be so obsessed with something as frivolous as this?”
I wasn’t sure which part bothered me the most—being called cold or obsessed. “I’m just giving the proper respect to a beautiful machine.”
“You named your car after coffee. That’s a sign of respect?”
“The highest respect,” I said.
He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Okay, then. You name it. Whatever you want, I’ll go along with.”
“Really?” I asked, a bit startled. True, I’d been badgering him about naming the car, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the one to wield that sort of power. “It’s a big decision.”
“Life or death,” he said, deadpan. “Better choose carefully.”
“Yeah, but you’re the so-called creative one!”
“Then this’ll be good practice for you.”
I fell silent for a good part of the drive, struck by the gravity of the dilemma that lay before me. What should the name reflect? The car’s sunny yellow color? Sleek lines? Powerful engine? The task was overwhelming.
Adrian pulled me out of my thoughts when we began nearing the outer Los Angeles suburbs. “We’re not actually going into the city, are we?”
“Huh?” I’d been waging a mental debate between Summer Wind and Gold Dust. “Oh, no. We’re heading north. Take the next exit.”
Mrs. Santos had provided me with two neighborhoods known for their Victorian-style houses. I’d researched them extensively online, even going so far as to look at satellite pictures. I’d finally chosen one that most resembled my vision and crossed my fingers I’d have the same luck as I’d had in finding Marcus’s apartment. Surely the universe owed me a few favors.
Unfortunately, things didn’t look too promising when we finally reached the street I’d been given. It was a peaceful residential area, filled with those same distinctive houses, but nothing that quite matched the one I’d seen in my vision. We drove up and down the street as I scanned each side, hoping maybe I’d missed something.
“Ugh,” I said, slouching back into my seat. No luck. The universe had apparently cut me off. “We’ll have to check the other location, but seriously, it didn’t look like a match.”
“Well, it can’t hurt to—” Adrian suddenly made an abrupt turn onto a side street we’d nearly driven past. I jerked upright as he clipped the curb.
“What are you doing? Think about your tires!”
“Look.” He made another turn, putting us on a parallel street. Most of it was contemporary California housing . . . but one block had more Victorian houses. I gasped.
“There it is!”
Adrian came to a stop on the side of the street opposite from the house of my vision. Everything was there, from the wrapping porch to the hydrangea bush. And now, in the full light of day, I could make out the sign in the front yard: OLD WORLD BED-AND-BREAKFAST. Smaller print identified it as a historic site.