Silver Shadows

  My dreaming and waking worlds shifted, and suddenly, there were arms wrapped tenderly around my waist and soft lips kissing me. I responded in kind, increasing the fervor in that kiss. I’d been so lonely for so long, so lost and adrift not just in the world but in my own head. Having Sydney here in bed grounded me and brought me back to myself in a way I hadn’t known was possible. I could weather the storms in my world, the craziness in my family … all of it could be endured now that Sydney was here.

  Except she wasn’t here.

  Sydney was gone, being kept far, far away from me … which meant it wasn’t her arms around me or her lips I tasted. Struggling out of my sleepy haze, I opened my eyes and tried to make sense of my surroundings. The blinds filtered out most of the morning sun, but I could still see enough to realize the girl in bed with me had black hair, not gold. Her eyes were gray, not brown.

  “Nina?”

  I pushed her gently away and scooted as far from her as I could while still managing to stay in the bed. Amusement sparkled in her eyes, and she laughed at my surprise. “You were expecting someone else? Wait, don’t answer that.”

  “No … but what are you doing here?” I blinked around the dim room. “How did you even get in here?”

  “You gave me a key for emergencies, don’t you remember?” I didn’t, but it also didn’t surprise me. She looked mildly disappointed that it had just been something I’d done on drunken impulse. “I got worried when I didn’t hear from you this morning, so I headed over here to check on you when I went on my lunch break. I’ve got a weird late shift.”

  “Assaulting isn’t really the same as checking on me,” I said.

  “‘Assaulting’ is kind of an exaggeration,” she chastised. “Especially since you were the one who reached for me when I sat next you on the bed.”

  “I did?” Again, I couldn’t say I was entirely surprised. “Well … I’m sorry. I was half-asleep and didn’t know what I was doing. I was … dreaming.”

  “You seemed to know what you were doing to me,” said Nina huskily. She reached toward me. “Were you dreaming of her?”

  “Who?”

  “You know who. Her. The girl who torments you. Don’t deny it,” she ordered, seeing me about to protest. “Don’t you think I can tell? Oh, Adrian.” It was jarring hearing her say it, after I’d just dreamed about Sydney uttering those very words. Nina lightly stroked my cheek. “I could tell as soon as you came back to Court someone had broken your heart. I’ve hated seeing you on the path you’re on. It eats me up.”

  I shook my head but didn’t remove her hand. “You don’t understand. There’s more to it than you know.”

  “I know that she’s not here. And that you’re miserable. Please …” She scooted back across the bed and leaned over me, her hair forming a curtain of dark curls around us. “I’ve been drawn to you since the moment we met. Let me make you feel better. …”

  She leaned down to kiss me, and I held up a hand to stop her. “No … I can’t.”

  “Why? Is she coming back?”

  Nina’s voice wasn’t cruel, but there was certainly a challenge in it, and I found myself looking away. “I … I don’t know. …”

  “Then why fight this?” she asked beseechingly. “I know you like me. More importantly, I know you understand me. No one else gets what it’s like, to be tossed around on the waves of spirit and endure what we do. Isn’t that worth something? To just have someone around so you aren’t alone?”

  She tried to kiss me again, and I didn’t stop her, largely because it was hard to argue against her point. I certainly didn’t love her like I did Sydney, but we did get what the other was going through. She didn’t judge me for what I did or try to get me to find better ways to handle my despair. And yes, she was right: It was nice not being alone.

  Like that, my mother’s words suddenly hit me like a slap in the face: Stop chasing a dream and focus on someone you can build a stable life with. That’s what your father and I have done.

  Was that what I was doing with Nina? Building a stable relationship with someone who shared my vices and need for escape—but whom I ultimately didn’t love? It would certainly be easy. Nina made sure of that. We could spend a lifetime together, commiserating about how hard it was to be a spirit user, going to one party after another in the hopes of putting off the darkness a little longer. It would be a pleasant life. Stable, as my mother had said. But I would never try to better myself. I would never achieve greatness, the way Sydney had always made me feel I could. And I would never, ever have that euphoric, all-consuming love that had wrapped around me every moment I was with Sydney, that feeling of love that constantly made me think, Yes, this is what it means to be alive.

  It would be easy, whispered Aunt Tatiana, fickle as usual. She’s here. Use her. Make the pain disappear. Your other girl is far away, but this one’s right in front of you. Give in. Just say yes. Yes, yes, yes …

  “No,” I said.

  I broke the kiss with Nina and actually stood up this time, making sure she was out of reach. I’d been a fool. A weak, lazy fool. I’d let my depression over my parents and not having any leads on Sydney get the best of me. I hadn’t just given up on Sydney. I’d given up on myself, getting lost in this decadent life of Court parties and pleasure because it was easy—much easier than both trying to find Sydney and staying strong when the options seemed hopeless.

  “Nina, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” I said, putting as much strength into my words as I could. “I’m sorry if I led you on, but this isn’t going to happen. I like hanging out with you, but I’m never going to feel any more for you than I do right now. And if I don’t, then that’s not acceptable for either of us. I’m sorry. We’ll never, ever have a future together.”

  It was a bit excessive, largely because I was lecturing myself as well as her. She flinched, and I realized too late that maybe I should’ve found a gentler way to express my feelings—especially, knowing as I did, how sensitive spirit users were. Her earlier smile disappeared, and she actually recoiled as though I’d struck her. Blinking back tears, she stood up from the bed with as much dignity as she could muster.

  “I see,” she said. There was a tremor in her voice, and she was doing that hand-wringing thing, to the extent that her own nails were digging into her flesh. “Well, I’m sorry for wasting your time these last couple of weeks. I should’ve known clerical help wasn’t good enough for Lord Adrian Ivashkov.”

  Now I winced. “Nina, it’s not like that at all. And I really like having you as a friend. If you’d just let me explain—”

  “Don’t bother.” She turned her back on me and headed for the bedroom door. “I don’t want to waste any more of your time, and besides, I need to find something to eat before my lunch break’s over. Sorry I woke you. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Nina—” I tried. But she was gone before I could say anything more, her exit punctuated with a loud slamming of the front door.

  I sank down on my bed, feeling like crap both physically and mentally. I hadn’t meant to end things like that with her. I hadn’t meant for a lot of things to happen. And as the overwhelming state of my life threatened to swallow me, I had to fight the urge to go make a drink.

  “No,” I said aloud. “I’m done with that.”

  Then and there, I was stopping cold turkey. I’d been deluding myself (even more than usual) thinking that I could drink sporadically throughout the day if I checked for Sydney every once in a while. Speaking of which … when was the last time I’d actually checked for her at night—the human night? When she’d first been taken, I’d searched for her nonstop. But recently … well, it was usually some half-hearted attempt after I woke up hungover. By the time darkness rolled around—the most likely time she’d be asleep, if she truly was still in the United States—I was usually a few drinks into my first party. I’d let myself get sloppy, disheartened by my earlier failure and real-life distractions. I wouldn’t make that mistake again, though. I
needed to keep myself sober and full of spirit, so that I could regularly check throughout the day. It didn’t matter how many times I’d failed. One day, one time, I’d catch her.

  Despite my pounding headache, I shifted into the trance needed to embrace spirit and reach out to her. Nothing. That was okay, though. I slipped back to myself, vowing to try again later. I hopped in the shower and washed away last night’s party. When I got out, I found I could stomach food a little better than earlier and ate a leftover donut I’d brought home the previous day. Or maybe the day before that. It was stale, but it did the trick.

  As I munched on it, I made a mental to-do list of things that didn’t include going to parties tonight. Apologies were first on my list. Along with Nina, I needed to fix things with Dimitri, after the asshole way I’d walked out on him. I also needed to talk to my mother. Just because she’d given up on herself was no reason for me to. I’d start with her first, seeing as she was the one I hadn’t spoken to in the longest time. Before I did, though, I should probably stop by a feeder since I couldn’t recall my last blood. It would help clear my head.

  I was almost at my front door when I decided to search for Sydney. Maybe hourly searching was excessive, but it would keep me in practice and sober. It was important that I get in the habit of these new patterns if I was going to change my life. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  Tendrils of spirit shot out from me across the world of dreams, reaching for Sydney as they so often did …

  … and this time, they connected.

  I was dumbfounded. It’d been so long since I’d formed a successful dream connection that I almost didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t even gone in with a preplanned setting because I’d simply been running on autopilot, making the effort without expecting results. As the world shimmered around us and I felt her materialize in the dream, I quickly summoned up our old meeting place: the Getty Villa in Malibu. Columns and gardens appeared around us, surrounding the museum’s focal point: an enormous pool and fountain. Sydney appeared on the other side of it. For several moments, I could only stare across the water at her, certain I was imagining this. Could I hallucinate in a dream I’d created? Surely this was too soon for any crazy alcohol-withdrawal symptoms.

  “Adrian?”

  Her voice was small, nearly lost in the dripping of water from the fountain. But the power it carried—and the effect it had on me—was monumental. I’d heard the expression “weak-kneed” before but had never lived it until now. My muscles didn’t feel as though they could sustain me, and there was a great swelling in my chest, the result of a tangle of emotions I couldn’t even begin to describe. Love. Joy. Relief. Disbelief. And mixed in with all of them were the emotions that I’d endured these last few months as well: despair, fear, sorrow. It spread out from my heart, and I felt tears form in my eyes. It wasn’t possible that one person could make you experience so many emotions at once, that one person could trigger a universe of feelings, simply with the sound of your name.

  I also knew then that they were wrong—all of them. My mom. My dad. Nina. Anyone who thought love could simply be built on shared goals alone had never, ever experienced anything like what I had with Sydney. I couldn’t believe I’d almost lost this through my own ignorance. Until I looked into her eyes now, I didn’t truly realize what a hollow life I’d been living.

  “Sydney …”

  It would take too long to walk around the fountain. I jumped up on the edge and then into the pool, wading through the water toward her. I would’ve done it even if I wasn’t wearing dream clothes. No physical discomfort mattered. Only getting to her did. My entire world, my entire existence, became focused around her. The journey took seconds, but it felt as though I’d been traveling toward her for years. I reached the other side and stepped out, dripping water onto the sunlit stones. I hesitated only a moment and then wrapped my arms around her, half expecting her to vanish into thin air. But she was real. Real and solid (in that dream kind of way), and her whole body shuddered with a repressed sob as she buried her face against my chest.

  “Oh, Adrian. Where have you been?”

  It wasn’t a chastisement, simply an expression of her own longing and fear. She couldn’t have known about the demons I’d faced these last couple of weeks or how very close I’d come to missing this opportunity. I cupped her face in my hands and gazed into those brown eyes I loved so much, eyes that now glittered with unshed tears.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. I looked for a long time … but I couldn’t reach you. And then I—I slacked off. I know I shouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have. God, Sydney, I’m so sorry. If I’d tried harder and sooner—”

  “No, no,” she said softly, running her hand through my hair. “There was nothing you could have done—not until recently. They regulate our sleep here with some kind of gas. I’ve been too drugged for spirit to reach me.” She began to tremble. “I was so afraid I’d never reach you—so afraid I’d never find a way out—”

  “Shh. You found me now. Everything’s going to be okay. Where are you?”

  A remarkable transformation took place. She looked as though she wanted nothing more than to hold me and cry out all the fear and frustration she’d experienced over the last few months. I knew because I kind of felt the same way. But no matter her own longings, no matter what hell she’d endured, she still remained the strongest, most amazing woman I knew. Before my eyes, she pushed all those fears and insecurities aside, ignoring the part of her that only wanted comfort in my arms. She became the Sydney Sage I’d first met: efficient, strong, competent. Ready to make the tough choices in order to accomplish what needed to get done.

  “Right,” she said. She paused to wipe the tears from her eyes. “We might not have long to talk. I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep. And … I don’t know where I’m at. I haven’t seen a window since I was taken. We’re kept underground.”

  “Who’s we?” I asked.

  “There are twelve others—er, thirteen now, we just got someone new—all former Alchemists who got in trouble. They’ve been reprogrammed to varying degrees. Some are just playing along, I’m certain of it, but it’s hard to tell. We get in big trouble for stepping out of line.”

  “What kind of trouble?” I asked. Although I’d been drinking up all her features since she appeared, I only now paused to truly study her. She was in some kind of horrible khaki outfit, and her golden hair looked longer than before. Both her face and body also seemed thinner, but I was uncertain how accurate that was. Unless the spirit user specifically altered the other person’s appearance, that person usually showed up in the dream as a mix of what he or she looked like in reality and how that person perceived him or herself. Often, the two weren’t the same. I made a mental note to ask her about her physical condition later.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said brusquely. “I’m fine, and I’m sure there are others like me, they’re just too scared to act. Others have been completely reprogrammed, though. They’re just like Keith. They’re—” Her eyes widened. “Keith. That’s it.”

  “Keith?” I repeated dumbly. I was still hung up on her evasiveness about getting in “big trouble” and didn’t see where her former asshole colleague fit into this.

  “He was there. Long before me. At the same facility.” She clutched my sleeve in her excitement. “They have this wall where people write confessions, and he wrote one—well, an apology actually, to my sister Carly. The point is, he was there, and we know he left. Maybe he knows where the facility is. He had to go outside when he got out, right?”

  “Didn’t you say he was really out of it, though?” I asked. “Is he even going to have the sense to talk to us?”

  Her expression darkened. “Yes … he was more than out of it. That’s what happens when you’re fresh off of re-inking. But in most cases, the worst of that wears off over time, and even if people are still compliant, they should eventually lose some of that brain-deadness. He might have some a
nswers if you can find him.”

  “Finding him might be easier said than done,” I murmured, thinking of the difficulties I’d had locating Sydney’s father and Zoe. “The Alchemists aren’t very forthcoming about their agents’ assignments.”

  “Marcus can help you,” she said decisively. “And don’t look like that. He can. He has resources. I know you guys can put aside your differences and work together.”

  I’d grimaced at his name, and she’d misunderstood, not realizing that Marcus and I had been in contact extensively since her disappearance. Mostly I was reminded that he too was another person I hadn’t parted well with, but that wasn’t her problem.

  “We’ll make it work,” I assured her. “Plus, he’s got this list that—”

  Her image began to fade before my eyes as the real world summoned her back. “Time to wake up,” she said sadly.

  I clutched at her, but she was losing substance. Panic filled me. There were so many things I still wanted to ask her, but I only had a few seconds to use. “I’ll talk to Marcus, and I’ll come find you again. Is this your usual sleeping time?”

  “Yes. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I don’t know if she heard me because I was suddenly standing alone in the garden, with the fountain splashing behind me and Malibu sun shining all around. I stared at where she’d been a few moments longer and then let the dream dissolve, returning me to my suite in guest housing. I was still by the front door, where I’d been about to go see my mother. But now, everything had changed. I’d made contact with Sydney! I’d seen her face, and she was okay … relatively speaking, of course.

  Thinking of my mom brought a pang to my heart, but I couldn’t go to her. I didn’t want to leave things badly with her—or with Nina, Dimitri, Rose, and Lissa. But none of them could help me right now. They would have to wait. It was time for me to return to the people who could help me find Sydney.

  I took out my cell phone and began looking up ticket prices to Palm Springs.