“I’ll get you another cup,” he told me. When he returned, he even had a mug for Ms. Terwilliger. “Figured you’d want one too.”
She smiled in appreciation. “Thank you. You’re very astute.” As she drank, I couldn’t help but notice she still looked tired, despite the fact that we’d just replenished with sugar. She no longer seemed in danger of passing out, but it was obvious she hadn’t recovered as quickly as I had.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked her.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” She sipped more coffee, her face lost in thought. “It’s been years since I performed the shield spell. I forgot how much it takes out of me.”
I was again struck by all the trouble she’d gone through for me. Ever since she’d identified me as a potential magic user, I’d done nothing but resist her and even be antagonistic.
“Thanks,” I told her. “For everything . . . I wish there was a way I could make it up to you.”
She set her cup down and stirred in more sugar. “I’m happy to do it. There’s no need to reciprocate. Although . . . once this is all over, I’d like very much if you’d meet my coven. I’m not asking you to join,” she added quickly. “Just to talk. I think you’d find the Stelle very interesting.”
“Stelle,” I repeated. She’d never called them by name before. “The stars.”
Ms. Terwilliger nodded. “Yes. Our origins are Italian, though as you’ve seen already, the magic we use comes from a number of cultures.”
I was at a loss for words. She’d gone to so much trouble for me . . . surely it wasn’t a big deal just to talk to the other witches, right? But if it was such a small thing, then why was I terrified? The answer came to me a few moments later. Talking to others, seeing the larger organization, would kick my involvement with magic up to the next level. It had taken me a long time to come around to the magic I already used. I’d overcome many of my fears, but some part of me treated it as just some sideline activity. Like a hobby. Meeting other witches would change everything. I would have to accept that I was part of something so much bigger than just the occasional dabbling. Meeting a coven seemed official. And I didn’t know if I was ready to be considered a witch.
“I’ll think about it,” I said at last. I wished I could give her more, but my protective instincts had seized me.
“I’ll take what I can get,” she said with a small smile. Her phone chimed, and she glanced down. “Speaking of the Stelle, I need to talk to one of my sisters. I’ll meet you at the car.” She finished her coffee and headed outside.
Adrian and I followed a few minutes later. I was still troubled about the coven and caught hold of his sleeve to keep him back. I spoke softly.
“Adrian, when did I reach this point? Trying to crack open the Alchemists and practicing magic in the desert?” Last summer, when I’d been with Rose in Russia, I couldn’t even tolerate the idea of sleeping in the same room with her. I’d had too many Alchemist mantras running through my mind, warning me of vampire evils. And now, here I was, in league with vampires and questioning the Alchemists. That girl in Russia had nothing in common with the one in Palm Springs.
No, I’m still the same person at heart. I had to be . . . because if I wasn’t, then who was I?
Adrian smiled at me sympathetically. “I think it’s been a culmination of things. Your curious nature. Your need to do the right thing. It’s all led you to this point. I know the Alchemists have taught you to think a certain way, but what you’re doing now—it’s not wrong.”
I raked my hand through my hair. “And yet, despite all of that, I can’t bring myself to have one tiny conversation with Ms. Terwilliger’s coven.”
“You have boundaries.” He gently smoothed one of my wayward locks. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Marcus would say it’s the tattoo holding me back.”
Adrian dropped his hand. “Marcus says a lot of things.”
“I don’t think Marcus is trying to deceive me. He believes in his cause, and I’m still worried about mind control . . . but honestly, it’s hard to believe I’m being held back when I’m out here doing stuff like this.” I gestured outside, to where Ms. Terwilliger was. “Alchemist dogma says this magic is unnatural and wrong.”
Adrian’s smile returned. “If it makes you feel better, you actually looked natural out there—back in the park.”
“Doing . . . what? Throwing fireballs?” I shook my head. “There’s nothing natural about that.”
“You wouldn’t think so, but . . . well. You were . . . amazing, throwing that fire like some kind of ancient warrior goddess.”
Annoyed, I turned away. “Stop making fun of me.”
He caught my arm and pulled me back toward him. “I am absolutely serious.”
I swallowed, speechless for a moment. All I was aware of was how close we were, that he was holding me to him with only a few inches between us. Almost as close as at the sorority. “I’m not a warrior or a goddess,” I managed at last.
Adrian leaned closer. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re both.”
I knew that look in his eyes. I knew because I’d seen it before. I expected him to kiss me, but instead, he ran his finger along the side of my neck. “There it is, huh? Badge of honor.”
It took me a moment to realize he was talking about the hickey. It had faded but wasn’t entirely gone. I pulled away. “It is not! It was a mistake. You were out of line doing that to me.”
His eyebrows rose. “Sage, I distinctly remember every part of that night. You didn’t seem that unwilling. You were practically on top of me.”
“I don’t really remember the details,” I lied.
He moved his hand from my neck and rested a fingertip on my lips. “But I’ll stick to just kissing these if it makes you feel better. No mark.” He started to lean toward me, and I jerked away.
“You will not! It’s wrong.”
“What, kissing you, or kissing you in Pies and Stuff?”
I glanced around, suddenly aware that we were creating a dinner show for the senior citizens, even if they couldn’t hear us. I backed up.
“Both,” I said, feeling my cheeks burn. “If you’re going to attempt something inappropriate—something you said you wouldn’t do anymore—then you could at least pick a better place.”
He laughed softly, and the look in his eyes confused me further. “Okay,” he said. “The next time I kiss you, I promise it’ll be in a more romantic place.”
“I—what? No! You shouldn’t try at all!” I began moving toward the door, and he fell in step with me. “What happened to loving me from a distance? What happened to not, um, bringing up any of this stuff?” For someone who was allegedly just going to watch from afar, he wasn’t doing a very good job. And I was doing an even worse job of being indifferent.
He moved in front of the door and blocked my way. “I said I wouldn’t—if you don’t want me to. But you’re kind of giving me mixed signals, Sage.”
“I am not,” I said, amazed that I could even say that with a straight face. Even I didn’t believe it. “You’re presumptuous and arrogant and a whole lot of other things if you think I’ve changed my mind.”
“You see, that’s just it.” There he was again, moving into my space. “I think you like the ‘other things.’”
I shook off my daze and pulled away. “I like humans.”
Another Alchemist lesson came to mind. They look like us, but don’t be deceived. The Moroi don’t display the malice of the Strigoi, but creatures who drink blood and manipulate nature have no place in our world. Work with them only as you must. We are not the same. Keep your distance as much as possible. It’s for the good of your soul.