Silver Shadows (8 page)

My hand began to tremble, forcing me to set down the brush. I had made it through months of deprivation in the dark, endured the glares and name-calling from my peers, and somehow even survived being made medically ill without a tear. But this small act of kindness, this nice and ordinary gesture between two people … well, it almost broke me when nothing else had. It drove home how far away I was from everything—from Adrian, my friends, safety, sanity … it was all gone. I was here in this tightly regulated prison of a world, where my every move was governed by people who wanted to change the way I thought. And there was no sign of when I’d get out of here.

“Now, now,” said Duncan brusquely. “None of that. They love it when you cry.”

I blinked back my tears and gave a hasty nod as I retrieved my brush. I set it back on the canvas, barely aware of what I did. Duncan also continued painting, his eyes on his work as he spoke more.

“You’ll probably be able to eat when dinner comes. But don’t overdo it. Be smart about what you eat—and don’t be surprised if you find another favorite of yours on the menu.”

“They really know how to make a point, don’t they?” I grumbled.

“Yes. Yes, they do.” Even without looking at him, I could tell he was smiling, though his voice soon grew serious again. “You remind me of someone I used to know here. She was my friend. When the powers-that-be realized we were friends, she went away. Friends are armor, and they don’t like that here. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“I—I think so,” I said.

“Good. Because I’d like us to be friends.”

The chimes signaling the end of class sounded, and Duncan began gathering up his things. He started to walk away, and I found myself asking, “What was her name? Your friend who was taken?”

He paused, and the look of pain that crossed his face immediately made me regret asking. “Chantal,” he said at last, his voice barely a whisper. “I haven’t seen her in over a year.” Something in his tone made me think she’d been more than a friend. But I couldn’t think much about that when I processed the rest of what he’d said.

“A year …” I did a double take. “What did you do to get here?”

He simply gave me a sad smile. “Don’t forget what I said, Sydney. About friends.”

I didn’t forget. And when he didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day and instead hung out with the other glaring and snickering detainees, I understood. He couldn’t show me any special treatment, not when our peers and the unseen eyes of superior Alchemists were always watching. But his words burned inside me, giving me strength.
Friends are armor. I’d like us to be friends.
I was trapped in this terrible place, full of torture and mind control … but I had a friend—one friend—even if no one else knew. It was empowering, and that knowledge helped carry me through another class full of Moroi propaganda and sustained me when a girl tripped me in the hall with a muttered, “Vamp whore.”

Our last class wasn’t really a class at all. It was a session called “communion time,” and it took place in a room they called the sanctuary, where apparently Sunday church services were also held. I made note of that because it meant I’d have a
way to mark time. It was a beautiful room, with high ceilings and wooden pews. No windows, though. Apparently they were serious about cutting off our escape options—or maybe it would’ve simply been too uplifting for us to see the sun and sky every once in a while.

One wall of the sanctuary was full of writing, and I lingered in front of it as my fellow detainees filed in. Here, on painted white bricks, was a record of all those who had come before me, written in their own hand. Some were short and to the point:
Forgive me, I have sinned.
Others were full-out paragraphs, detailing perceived crimes and how their authors longed for redemption. Some were signed, some were anonymous.

“We call this the Wall of Truth,” said Sheridan, walking up beside me with a clipboard. “Sometimes people feel better after confessing their sins upon it. Perhaps you’d like to?”

“Maybe later,” I said.

I followed her to a circle of chairs, set up away from the pews. Everyone settled down, and she made no comments when my nearest neighbors scooted their chairs a few inches away. Communion time, it seemed, was a type of group therapy, and Sheridan engaged the circle in what everyone had accomplished today. Emma was the first to speak up.

“I learned that although I have made progress in restoring my soul, I have a long way to go before I attain perfection. The greatest sin is to give up, and I’ll keep going forward until I’m completely immersed in light.”

Duncan, sitting beside her, said, “I made progress in art. When we started class today, I didn’t think anything good would come of it. But I was wrong.”

Whatever temptation that might’ve given me to smile was
cut short when the girl beside him said, “I learned today how glad I am to not be as bad as someone like Sydney. Questioning my orders was wrong, but at least I never let one of
them
lay their profane hands on me.”

I flinched and expected Sheridan to laud the speaker for her virtue, but instead, Sheridan fixed cold eyes on the girl. “You think that’s true, Hope? You think you have the right to declare who’s better or worse among you? You’re all here because you’ve committed grave crimes, make no mistake about it.
Your
insubordination may not have resulted in the same vile outcome as Sydney’s, but it stemmed from a place just as dark. Failure to obey, failure to heed those who know best … that is the sin at hand, and you’re just as guilty of it as her.”

Hope had gone so white, it was a wonder someone didn’t accuse her of being a Strigoi. “I—I didn’t mean—that is—I—”

“It’s clear you didn’t learn as much as you thought you did today,” said Sheridan. “I think you need to do some further learning.” And through another unseen command, her henchmen showed up and hauled off a protesting Hope. I felt sick inside, and it had nothing to do with my earlier purging. I wondered if she’d face the same fate, though her fault here seemed to be pride, not defense of Moroi.

Sheridan turned to me now. “What about you, Sydney? What did you learn today?”

All those eyes turned on me. “I learned that I have a lot to learn.”

“Indeed you do,” she replied gravely. “Admitting that is a big step toward redemption. Would you like to share your history with the others? You may find it liberating.”

I hesitated under the weight of those stares, unsure what
answer would get me in the most trouble. “I … I’d like to,” I began slowly. “But I don’t think I’m ready. I’m just still so overwhelmed by everything.”

“That’s understandable,” she said, causing me to sag in relief. “But once you see how much everyone’s grown here, I think you’ll want to share. You can’t overcome your sins if you keep them locked up inside.”

There was a warning note in her voice that was impossible to miss, and I responded with a solemn nod. Mercifully, after that, she moved on to someone else, and I was spared. I spent the rest of the hour listening to them blather on about the amazing progress they’d all made in casting off the darkness in their souls. I wondered how many of them meant what they said and how many were just trying to get out of here like me. I also wondered: If they
had
made that much progress, then why were they still here?

After communion time, we were dismissed for dinner. Waiting in line, I heard the others chatting about how chicken parmesan had been replaced at the last minute by fettuccine alfredo. I also heard someone say fettuccine alfredo was Hope’s favorite. When she joined the end of the line, pale and shaken—and shunned by the others—I realized what had happened. Chicken parmesan was a childhood favorite of mine—which the authorities here probably knew from my family—and had originally been on the menu to punish me and my purging-weakened stomach. Hope’s act of insubordination had trumped mine, however, resulting in a last-minute dinner switch. The Alchemists really were serious about making a point.

Hope’s miserable face confirmed as much when she sat alone at one of the empty tables and stared at her food without
touching a thing. Although the sauce was too rich for me, I at least was at a point where I could stomach some of the milder sides and milk. Watching her then, ostracized like me, struck me deeply. Just earlier that day, I’d seen her in the thick of social life with the others. Now she was shunned, just like that. Seeing an opportunity, I started to stand up, intending to join her. Across the room, Duncan, who was sitting and chatting pleasantly with a group of others, caught my eye and gave a sharp headshake. I wavered a few moments and then sat down again, feeling ashamed and cowardly for not taking a stand with another pariah.

“She wouldn’t have thanked you for it,” he murmured to me after dinner. We were in the facility’s small library, allowed to choose a book to take back for bedtime reading. All the books were nonfiction, reinforcing Alchemist principles. “This stuff happens, and she’ll be back with the others tomorrow. You going to her would’ve drawn attention and maybe delayed that. Worse, if she did welcome you, the powers-that-be would’ve noticed and thought the troublemakers were ganging up.”

He selected a book seemingly at random and walked away before I could respond. I wanted to ask him at what point I’d be accepted by the others—or if I’d ever be accepted. Surely everyone had gone through what I had at some point. And surely they’d eventually worked themselves into the detainees’ social world.

Back in my room, Emma made it clear no breakthroughs were going to occur with her. “I’m making good progress,” she told me primly. “I don’t need you ruining it with your perversions. The only thing we do in this room is sleep. Don’t talk to me. Don’t interact with me. Don’t even look at me if you can help it.”

With that, she took her book and lay on the bed, purposely putting her back to me. I didn’t care, though. It was no different than any other attitude I’d received today, and I now had a much bigger concern on my mind. I’d scarcely allowed myself to think about it until now. There’d been too many other trials and ordeals to get through, but now we were here. The end of the day. Bedtime. Once I was in pajamas (identical to my day scrubs) and had brushed my teeth, I got into bed with a barely constrained excitement.

I would sleep soon. And I would dream of Adrian.

The realization had swirled at the back of my mind, keeping me going through my low points. This was what I had worked for, why I had endured the day’s indignities. I was out of my cell and free of the gas. Now I would sleep normally and dream of him … provided my eagerness didn’t keep me awake.

As it turned out, that wasn’t going to be an issue. After an hour of reading time, the chimes sounded, and the lights went out automatically. The room’s door was a sliding pocket door that didn’t quite hit flush against the wall, allowing a crack of light in from the hall that I was kind of happy to see after my months in pitch-blackness. I heard a click, like some kind of bolt coming out, that locked the door in place. I snuggled into the covers, filled with excitement … and suddenly began to feel tired. Very tired. One minute I was imagining what I’d say to Adrian; the next, I could barely keep my eyes open. I fought it, forcing my mind to stay focused, but it was as though a heavy fog was descending on me, weighing me down and clouding my mind. It was a sensation I was all too familiar with.

“No …” I managed to say. I wasn’t free of the gas. They were still regulating our sleep, probably to make sure no afterhours collusion took place. I was too exhausted to think past that. Thick sleep soon wrapped around me, dragging me into a darkness that had no dreams.

And no chance for escape.

N
INA WAS A GOOD DRINKING BUDDY
and not just because she could hold her liquor.

Even when not actively wielding spirit, she had the same intuitiveness that we spirit users naturally possessed. She quickly picked up on when I wanted to talk about things and, most importantly, when I didn’t. We started off in a quiet bar, and I was happy to let her do most of the talking. It didn’t sound like she’d made many friends these last few months at Court, and with Olive gone, Nina had had little chance to unburden herself.

“I just don’t understand,” she said. “People almost seem afraid of me. I mean, they say they aren’t, but I can tell. They avoid me.”

“Spirit still freaks a lot of people out, that’s all. And I can tell you this, after living around Moroi, dhampirs, and humans¸ it’s a fact that people are afraid of what they don’t understand.” I emphasized my point with a drink stirrer. “And most are too lazy or ignorant to find out more.”

Nina smiled but still looked wistful. “Yeah, but everyone seems to accept Dimitri and Sonya. And they actually
were
Strigoi. Seems like that would be a lot harder to get on board with than a girl who just helped restore one.”

“Oh, there was plenty of freaking out going on when those two were first restored, believe me. But Dimitri’s gallant reputation and heroic acts soon overshadowed that. Then Sonya got her own fame with all her ‘Strigoi vaccine’ work.”

“Is that what it takes?” Nina asked. “Do I—and Olive—have to do great deeds to get people to forget about our pasts?”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I said staunchly. “Is that why Olive left? Was it too hard being around others?”

Nina frowned and looked down at the edge of her glass. She was drinking cosmos, which were a little too fruity for my tastes. I spared a moment to idly wonder what Sydney would drink, if she ever allowed herself to indulge. Some girly cocktail like that? No, I instantly knew if Sydney ever drank, it would be wine, and she’d be one of those people who could tell you the year, region, and soil components the grapes were grown in, based on a sip alone. Me? I’d be lucky if I could tell the difference between boxed and bottled wine. The thought of her made me start to smile, and I quickly hid it, lest Nina see and think I was laughing at her.

“I don’t know why Olive left,” she said at last. “And that’s almost as bad as her leaving in the first place. I’m her sister. I brought her back!” Nina jerked her head back up, and tears glittered in those gray eyes. “If something’s bothering her, she should have come to me first. After everything I went through for her … does she think I wouldn’t listen? Doesn’t she know
how much I love her? We share the same blood; that’s a bond nothing and no one can ever break. I would do anything for her—anything—if she only asked, if she’d only trust me enough to ask. …”

She trembled, and there was a slightly unhinged quality to her voice, one I recognized. It happened to me when spirit started to make me feel unstable. “Maybe she feels like you’ve done too much for her already,” I said, gently placing a hand over hers. “Have you reached out to her in dreams?”

Nina nodded, calming a little. “She always tells me she’s fine and that she just needs more time.”

“Well, there you go. My mom told me the same thing when she was locked up. Sometimes people need to work things out on their own.”

“I guess,” she said. “But I still hate the thought of her being alone. I wish she’d at least reached out to Neil or someone else.”

“I think he wishes it too. But he’ll be glad to know she’s just figuring things out. He probably respects the whole solitary journey thing.” I finished my drink and saw hers was getting low too.

“Another round?” she asked.

“Nah.” I stood up and put some cash on the table. “Let’s find a different scene. You said you wanted to meet more people, right?”

“Yes …” Her voice was wary as she stood with me. “Do you know where to find a party or something?”

“I’m Adrian Ivashkov,” I declared. “The parties find me.”

That was a slight exaggeration, as I actually did have to go seeking one … but I was right on my first try. A royal who’d been in my class at Alder, Vanessa Szelsky, used to always throw
weekend parties at her parents’ Court accommodations, and I had no reason to think things had changed in less than a year, especially since I’d heard her parents still traveled excessively. Vanessa and I had made out a few times over the years, enough that she regarded me pretty favorably but not enough that she would blink or get upset about me crashing her party with another girl.

“Adrian?” she exclaimed, pushing her way through the packed courtyard behind her parents’ place. “Is that really you?”

“In the flesh.” I kissed Vanessa’s cheek. “Vanessa, this is Nina. Nina, Vanessa.”

Vanessa gave Nina a once-over and raised an eyebrow in surprise. Vanessa was a society girl if ever there was one, and although she would probably claim this was a “casual” party, her dress had undoubtedly come from some famous designer’s spring collection. Getting her hair and makeup done for tonight had probably cost more than Nina’s whole outfit, which was suitable for a secretarial job but was, at best, off the rack from a midrange department store. It didn’t bother me in the least, but I could see Vanessa deliberating. Nina could see it too and wrung her hands nervously. At last, Vanessa shrugged and gave Nina a genuinely friendly smile.

“Nice to meet you. Any friend of Adrian’s is welcome here—especially since you managed to get him out.” Vanessa put on a pout she’d undoubtedly practiced a hundred times in the mirror to make herself look extra adorable. “Where have you been? You dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Top secret government business,” I said, trying to make my voice sound sinister while still being heard above the music. “I wish I could tell you lovely ladies more, but the less you know,
the better. For your own protection. Think of it as me looking out for you.”

They both scoffed at that, but it earned my welcome, and Vanessa beckoned us forward. “Come on and get a drink. I know a lot of people who are going to be happy to see you.”

Nina leaned toward me as we walked through the crowd. “I think I might be out of my league here.”

I put an arm around her to steer her past a guy heedlessly waving his arms to tell some wild story. “You’ll be fine. And really, these people are just like anyone else you know.”

“The people I know don’t casually eat shrimp off their best china in one hand while drinking champagne in the other.”

“Technically,” I said, “those are prawns, not shrimp, and I’m sure that’s actually her mother’s second-best china.”

Nina rolled her eyes at me but didn’t get a chance to say much more as word spread that Adrian Ivashkov was back. Nina and I found drinks and took up chairs near a koi pond, where people flocked to come talk to us. Some were friends I’d regularly partied with before leaving for Palm Springs. Many others were those drawn by the allure and secrecy of my long disappearance. I’d never had much trouble attracting friends, but a mysterious past suddenly raised my stock like nothing else I could’ve concocted.

I let it slip that Nina was a spirit user too and didn’t stop others from drawing the conclusion that she was part of whatever clandestine business I’d been involved in. I made a point to particularly introduce her to some of the less-vapid royal kids I knew, in the hopes that she might walk out of here tonight with a few solid acquaintances. As for me, I took on a role I hadn’t had in ages and practically felt like a king at
my own court. One thing I’d learned over the years was that confidence had a powerful effect on others, and if you acted like you deserved their attention, they believed it. I joked and flirted in a way I hadn’t in months and was surprised at how easily it all came back to me. The high of that attention was heady, but it, like everything else, felt empty without Sydney in my life. I soon found myself cutting back on the alcohol as the night wound down. As much as I loved the escape the drinks brought me, I was determined to search for Sydney again before I went to bed. I needed sobriety for that.

“Well, well, look who’s back,” an unwelcome voice suddenly said. “I wouldn’t have thought you had the balls to show your face in public after last time.”

Wesley Drozdov, asshole extraordinaire, came to a halt before me, flanked by his lackeys, Lars Zeklos and Brent Badica. I stayed seated and made a big show of looking around and behind me. “Are you talking to yourself? I don’t see a mirror anywhere. And really, your performance wasn’t
that
bad. You shouldn’t get so down over a little embarrassment like that.”

“Little?” asked Wesley. He took a step forward and clenched his fists, but I refused to move from where I was. He pitched his voice low. “Do you know how much trouble I got in? My dad had to hire a flock of lawyers to get me out of that! He was furious.”

I put on a look of mock sympathy and spoke loudly, making him wince. “I would be too, if a human girl kicked my son’s ass. Oh, wait.
I
was the one who kicked your ass.”

We’d gathered quite an audience, as these things often did, and Vanessa soon came hurrying over. “Hey, hey,” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, the usual,” I said, giving her a lazy smile. “Catching up on old times, laughing at times past. And if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that Wesley just makes me laugh and laugh.”

“You know what makes me laugh?” snapped Wesley. He nodded toward Nina. “Your cheap date there. I’ve seen her before. She’s the receptionist at my dad’s office. You promise you’d get her a better job if she sleeps with you?”

I sensed Nina stiffening beside me, but I didn’t dare shift my gaze from the guys standing over me. They’d started off as a nuisance, but now they were kindling a dark, uncharacteristic anger in me. Looking into Wesley’s eyes brought back all the memories of that night with Sydney when he and his henchmen had planned on taking advantage of her. Thoughts of the harm they’d intended for her mingled with my fears of all the unknown danger she might be facing now. It became one and the same, making my chest clench in rage and fear.

Destroy them
, Aunt Tatiana whispered in my mind.
Make them pay.

I worked to ignore her and conceal my emotions as best I could. Still wearing a dumbass smile, I said, “Why, no. She’s here with me by choice. I know that’s probably a weird concept for you, considering your track record with girls. Vanessa, I think Wes was just about to tell that story when you walked up—about the ‘flock’ of lawyers his dad had to hire to cover up how he and his entourage here tried to dabble with a human that was a guest of the queen’s?” I gestured grandly. “Please, go on. Tell us how it all worked out. And if they let you keep the drugs you were going to use on her. Might come in handy with some of the ladies around here, eh?”

I broke eye contact with Wesley long enough to give an
exaggerated wink to a group of horrified girls standing nearby. I was positive what Wesley had tried to do wasn’t public knowledge, nor had he intended it to become so when he’d come up to me posturing about his past and dad’s lawyers. Humans might be less in the eyes of many Moroi, but dabbling—the act of drugging a non-feeder human and drinking from them against their will—was a pretty ugly sin among our kind. Attractive humans were especially desirable to the lowlifes who tried that, and Sydney had caught Wesley’s eye on her last visit. He and the others had tried to assault her, thinking I’d help. I’d ended up attacking them with a tree branch until guardians showed up on the scene.

I didn’t need the gasps around us to confirm that story hadn’t made local news. Wesley’s angry face told me as much. “You son of a bitch—”

He charged me, but I’d been expecting it and had spirit at the ready. Telekinesis wasn’t a spirit ability I utilized that much, but it was well within my range.

Destroy him! Destroy him!
Aunt Tatiana insisted.

I opted for something a little less savage. With a thought, I sent one of those fine china platters Nina had commented on flying toward Wesley’s face. It clipped him hard on the side of the head, showering him with prawns and achieving my dual goals of pain and humiliation.

“That’s a cheap air user’s trick!” he snarled, attempting to move toward me again. The attack lost some of its impact since he was still wiping prawns off.

“What about this?” I asked. With a flick of my hand, Wesley’s advance came to a halt. The muscles in his body and face strained as he ordered his limbs to move, but the energy
of spirit blocked them. It would’ve been difficult for an air user to manage that kind of complete immobility, and it sure as hell wasn’t easy for me either, seeing as I was only barely sober and was using an ability unfamiliar to me. The effect it generated was worth the effort, judging from the looks of awe on everyone’s faces. I mustered what remaining spirit I could to make myself appear extra charismatic to those gathered. It was impossible to compel a crowd, but spirit used correctly could make you much more endearing to others.

“Last time, you guys asked if I was a big, bad spirit user,” I remarked. “The answer? Yes. And I really don’t like it when assholes like you demean any girl—human or Moroi. So, if you want to move again, you’ll first apologize to my beautiful friend here. Then you’ll apologize to Vanessa for ruining her party, which was actually pretty amazing until you showed your disgusting faces and wasted her prawns.”

It was a bluff. Using telekinesis to restrain an entire person took a ridiculous amount of spirit, and I was running out. Wesley didn’t know that, however, and he was terrified at being immobilized.

Why stop there?
demanded Aunt Tatiana.
Think what he did to Sydney!

He didn’t succeed
, I reminded her.

It doesn’t matter! He tried to hurt her. He has to pay! Don’t just freeze him with spirit! Use it to crush his skull! He needs to suffer! He tried to hurt her!

For a moment, her words and that storm of emotion building in my chest threatened to overcome me. He
had
tried to hurt Sydney, and maybe I couldn’t stop her current captors, but I could stop Wesley. I
could
make him pay, make him suffer for
even thinking of hurting her, make sure he was never able to—