Silver Shadows (12 page)

I pointed at Nina. “Her. She’s been helping you with some of your vaccine work, right? She puts in time but doesn’t get paid. That’s not right.”

Nina flushed, now that she realized what this was about. “Adrian, it’s fine—”

“It’s not,” I insisted. “Nina and I have both done a lot for you with your spirit research but haven’t seen any compensation.”

Sonya arched an eyebrow. “I hadn’t realized that was part of your requirements. I thought you were glad to be working against Strigoi for the sake of doing good.”

“We are,” said Nina, still looking mortified.

“
But
,” I added, “you can’t ask us to take time out of our schedules and lives while still expecting us to find some way to survive and make ends meet. You want our help with this? Don’t half-ass it. Hire a full-time spirit squad.” I frowned, not liking the way that came out. “Or a spirit dream team. I don’t know. I’m just saying, if you want to do it right, give us the compensation we deserve while also making sure you get the best help available. Nina has to juggle her office job while still helping you out.”

Sonya’s gaze rested on Nina, who squirmed and looked even more uncomfortable. “I know you work a lot of hours, and I
do
feel bad that I’m asking extra of you.” Sonya turned to me and looked distinctly less sympathetic. “But remind me again what exactly it is you’re doing these days, Adrian?”

Such nerve
, said Aunt Tatiana.

“Well,” I said obstinately, “I could be helping you mass produce your vaccine, if you’d hire me on full time.”

Sonya gave a small, dry laugh. “I’d love that, except that there are two small problems. One is that I’m not mass producing anything.”

“You aren’t?” I asked. I glanced briefly at Nina, who seemed too embarrassed by this whole encounter to notice. “But I thought that was your top priority.”

“It is,” said Sonya. “But unfortunately, replicating the spirit in Neil’s blood is proving very difficult. The spirit doesn’t seem to be bound to the blood in a stable way, and I worry it’s going to fade over a long enough time before we can crack its secrets. Having spirit users on hand to advise me
is
very useful, no question. But solving this also requires a biology background and understanding of blood at the cellular level, and unfortunately, there’s only one person I know who meets that requirement. And that spirit user hasn’t been able to solve this yet.”

It took me a moment to realize Sonya was talking about herself. I knew Nina had been helping Sonya, but it was news to me—and Nina too, from her face—that the project was at a standstill. We’d made such huge strides in creating a Strigoi vaccine for Neil that it was maddening to think we were now in a position where we couldn’t fully take advantage of that. I’d just assumed after all our hard work that Sonya was now creating her miracle elixir in a lab somewhere, ready to share it with the world.

“What’s the second problem?” I asked, recalling her earlier statement.

“The second problem,” said Sonya, “is that I’m in no position to pay you. Believe me, I would
love
a ‘spirit dream team’ dedicated to this task, but I don’t even get paid for
this. The queen and the council have money and grants set aside for scientific research, and I file requests for that to cover expenses for supplies and travel. But as for any other compensation? I see no more than you. Although … it might be an avenue worth considering. If the council truly wants this work to move forward, they should ensure those best suited to it are able to fully devote their time and resources.”

Sonya sounded sincere about that, but I felt idiotic yet again. I’d come here demanding money as though she were some master treasurer when the truth was she was putting in even more work than we were—also for nothing. Even in the throes of alcohol, I could recognize what an ass I’d been.

“Sonya, I’m sorry,” I said.

Ivashkovs don’t apologize!
snapped Aunt Tatiana.

“Don’t be,” said Sonya. “It’s not an unreasonable request.”

“I was unreasonable in the way I asked it,” I said gruffly.

Will you stop doing that?
demanded Aunt Tatiana.

Nina, though still flustered at the attention brought upon her, unknowingly took my imaginary aunt’s side and rested a hand gently on my arm. “You didn’t know. And you were doing it for me.”

“I really will ask,” Sonya added, glancing between us. “Who knows? Maybe a ‘dream team’ will help get things moving. Mostly I’d been waiting for school to end at Amberwood, so that we could have Neil back here with Jill. I’d hoped having him in person might illuminate the situation.”

“Maybe if Neil comes back, Olive will too,” said Nina. This whole encounter with Sonya had clearly upset her, but the thought of Olive cheered her a little.

“Maybe,” I said, not feeling so confident based on everything
I’d heard recently from Nina. “Seems like you’d be a bigger draw than some guy she hardly knows.”

“She fell for him pretty hard, though.” Nina played with the edges of her towel a moment and then looked up to meet my eyes. “Falling in love with someone can make you do things the love of a relative can’t.”

I frowned as I studied her more closely and realized she was shivering. “Good God,” I said, ashamed of my own obliviousness. “You must be freezing.” The temperature outside, while pleasant, wasn’t as sweltering as it had been earlier in the week, and making that long walk in a drenched party dress couldn’t have been fun. I glanced at Sonya. “Do you have anything she can wear?”

Nina turned crimson. “I’m fine. Don’t go to any trouble—”

“Of course,” interjected Sonya, rising. She beckoned Nina up as well. “I’ve got a few things you can try.”

Nina followed her reluctantly out of the room. Sonya returned a minute later and rejoined me at the table. “She’s changing now.”

I nodded, my mind still on our earlier conversation. “I hope she doesn’t get too let down if Olive doesn’t come back to Court. I think Olive’s got a lot to process after—well, you understand.”

“I do,” said Sonya solemnly. “But to be too honest, I’m not worried about
Olive
letting Nina down.”

I was sobering a little, only enough to give me a headache and not, apparently, enough to clear my mind. “What do you mean?”

Sonya sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of. You have no idea that girl is crazy about you, do you?”

“Who … you mean Nina?” I shook my head. “No, she’s not. We’re just friends.”

“You spend an awful lot of time together. And whenever she and I meet for work, you’re all she talks about.”

“I have no interest in her,” I said firmly. “Not that way, at least.”

Sonya gave me one of those knowing looks she excelled at. “I never said you did. In fact, it’s perfectly clear to me you don’t. But she’s not aware of that. And it’s cruel of you to lead her on.”

“I’m not!” I protested. “We just hang out.”

“She told me you bought her clothes.”

“It’s a
loan
,” I said staunchly. “Because she doesn’t make enough to live on.”

“She was doing just fine until you started pushing her into the whirlwind of royal social life.” Sonya met me directly in the eyes. “Look, you want my advice? If you care about her, back off. Without realizing it, you’re sending her mixed messages, and eventually it’s going to go bad when the one she finally gets isn’t the one she was hoping for. It would be hard on anyone—but you of all people know how fragile we spirit users can be.”

“Well, actually, I don’t want your advice, and I’m not backing off anything because I’m not doing anything wrong. Nina’s a smart girl. She knows we’re just friends and likes what we have. Telling me to give her up is kind of premature.”

“Give her up?” Sonya chuckled. “That’s an addict’s term. What is it exactly you’re using her for? Or more importantly, should I ask, what—or whom—is she replacing?”

“Nothing. No one. Stop giving me the third degree! What’s wrong with me just having a friend?”

Nina returned, wearing Sonya’s borrowed sweatpants and
T-shirt, and ended the conversation. Oblivious to the tension she’d walked in on, Nina was effusive with her thanks to Sonya and made a few more inquiries about the vaccine status. As they spoke, my mind wandered, and I wondered if I’d been inadvertently lying to Sonya.

Not about anything romantic with Nina and me. There was no one I could even imagine being with besides Sydney. But when we left Sonya’s and I walked Nina back to her place, I found myself wondering about the other part of Sonya’s commentary.

What—or whom—is she replacing?

There was no replacement for Sydney, of course. There was no one like her in the world, no one who could even compare to her in my heart. Yet, when Sonya had suggested I back off from Nina, the first panicked thought that had raced through my mind was that I would be alone again. Because while grief and fear and anger had dominated my emotions in the wake of Sydney’s disappearance, I couldn’t deny that loneliness had been there as well. My relationship with Sydney had healed a lost part of me, a piece of my soul that had felt adrift in the world. When she’d vanished, I’d lost that tether and floated loose once more.

Nina, though not replacing Sydney romantically, had certainly done a lot to ground me. Not that I was exactly exhibiting model behavior these days. But Nina gave me someone to talk to—who didn’t live inside my head—and at least provided some regularity to my partying lifestyle. Picking her up and getting her home on time each night ensured I wasn’t completely running wild. And aside from the pleasure of secretly punishing my father by spending his money on her,
I also took satisfaction in taking care of someone. It made me feel a little less useless. I couldn’t find Sydney, but by God, I could make sure Nina was dressed for royal nightlife.

But was Sonya right that I was taking advantage of Nina in the process?

I pondered this as we reached Nina’s doorstep, over in another section of housing that was only slightly less barebones that Sonya’s. Nina unlocked her door and then turned to face me. The sun was definitely up now, lighting her face with dawn’s colors.

“Well, thanks as always for an interesting time,” she said with a small laugh. “And thanks for what you tried to do with Sonya. You really didn’t have to. But thanks.” She was wringing her hands together, a nervous habit of hers I’d noticed before.

I shrugged. “You heard what she said. Maybe something’ll come of it regardless.”

“Maybe.” A moment of silence hung between us before she asked, “Well … same time tomorrow?”

I hesitated, wondering if I was creating an unhealthy situation for myself. Wondering if I was creating one for her.

Are you going to let Sonya dictate your life?
demanded Aunt Tatiana.
What does she know?

I felt a flare of anger within me. Sonya was overreacting. What was wrong with me having a friend? What was wrong with me having someone to talk to? Was I expected to live in isolation, just because Sydney was gone? And furthermore, Nina was too intuitive to harbor any feelings for me. She had her own issues and wasn’t going to get any crazy ideas about us.

“Same time,” I assured her.

H
OW COULD
A
DRIAN HAVE NOT
come for me? Was it possible enough gas had gotten in to mess with my system after all? I knew there was no way he would give up on me. He had to be searching. If he hadn’t come to my dreams that night, there was a good reason.

The problem was, he didn’t come the night after that. Or the next.

Things had gotten worse when Emma had grilled me the morning after I’d disabled the gas, wanting to know if I’d had any luck in getting the outside help I’d promised. She’d been joined by Amelia, who, I learned, had been my distraction. Our rooms were apparently monitored from a control center with lots of screens. Upon Emma’s instructions, Amelia had staged an argument with her roommate, saying incriminating things that had been picked up by the surveillance team. Amelia had been especially unruly, and, they told me, had occupied the full attention of those monitoring the rooms on
camera so that they missed my little performance.

“I needed a big block of sleep for my plan to work,” I had told them, after explaining that I hadn’t been successful. “It took me a while to doze off last night, so maybe it was too short. It’ll work better tonight.”

Both Amelia and Emma had looked disappointed but also hopeful. They believed in me. They barely knew me, but both were convinced I had a way to help them.

That had been five days ago.

Now their looks of hope were gone—and replaced by ones of animosity.

I didn’t know what was wrong. I didn’t know why Adrian wasn’t coming. Panic rose in me, that something had happened to him and that he was unable to walk in dreams anymore. Maybe he was still on his prescription … but no, I was certain that he would have gone off it an effort to try to find me. Was it possible the pills had caused permanent damage to his ability to use spirit? I couldn’t ponder it for long because my life in re-education had taken a definite turn for the worst.

Emma and especially Amelia, who’d been sent to purging for her distraction, felt played. They didn’t tell anyone else what had happened, lest it incriminate themselves, but they made it known through subtle group signals that I was on the outs. They ignored my pleas that help would come, and I soon found myself eating alone in the cafeteria. Others who’d started to warm up in their standoffish behavior resumed old habits with a fury, and everything I did was scrutinized and reported to our superiors—who sent me to purging twice more that week.

Only Duncan remained my friend, in his way, but even that was tainted a little. “I warned you,” he said in art class one day.
“I warned you not to mess things up. I don’t know what you did, but you’ve definitely undone all your progress.”

“I had to,” I said. “I had to take a chance on something, something that I know will pay off.”

“Do you?” he asked sadly, in a voice that said he’d seen similar attempts many, many times.

“Yes,” I said fiercely. “It’ll pay off.”

He gave me an amiable smile and returned to his painting, but I could tell he believed I was lying. The awful thing was, I didn’t know if he was right.

All the while, I held out hope that I would connect to Adrian in the world of dreams. I didn’t understand why it hadn’t happened yet, but I never doubted for a moment that he was out there still loving me and looking for me. If something was truly interfering with our dreams, I was certain he’d find another way to get to me.

A week after I’d disabled the gas, the re-education status quo was shaken up when a newcomer joined us. “That’s good news for you,” Duncan told me in the hall. “The attention’ll shift to her for a while, so don’t get too friendly.”

That was hard advice to follow, especially when I saw her sitting alone at a cafeteria table for breakfast. A warning look from Duncan reluctantly sent me to my own table, where I felt foolish and cowardly for letting both the new girl and me suffer being ostracized. Her name was Renee, and she appeared to be my age, if not a year or so younger. She also seemed to be someone I could’ve bonded with pretty easily since, like me, she was sent off to purging during our first class for talking back to the teacher.

Unlike me, however, Renee returned later looking pale and
ill—but not cowed. In some ways, I admired that. She was still worn from her time in solitary but carried a rebellious spark in her eyes that showed promising strength and courage.
Here’s someone I can ally with
, I thought. When I mentioned this to Duncan in art class, he was quick to chastise me.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “She’s too new, too conspicuous. And she’s not making things easy on herself.”

He had a point. Although she’d apparently learned enough not to blatantly talk back anymore, she made no attempt to look contrite or act as though she had any intention of buying what the Alchemists were selling. She seemed to exalt in her exclusion from the others, ignoring me when I daringly offered a friendly smile in the halls. She sat sullenly through our classes, glaring with anger and defiance at both students and instructors alike.

“I’m kind of surprised she got out of reflection time already,” Duncan added. “Somebody messed up.”

“That’s why she needs a friend more than ever,” I insisted. “She needs someone to tell her, ‘Look, it’s okay to feel this way, but you’ve got to lay low for a while.’ Otherwise, they’re going to send her back.”

He shook his head warningly. “Don’t do it. Don’t get mixed up in that, especially since her arrival means you’ll move up soon. Besides, they’re not going to send her back to her cell.”

There was an ominous note in his voice he wouldn’t explain, and against my better judgment, I kept my distance for the rest of the day. When morning came—still with no contact from Adrian—I resolved to sit with Renee and not give in to peer pressure. That plan was delayed when one of Duncan’s regular tablemates invited me to join them. I stood
there uncertainly, holding my tray as I glanced between Renee and Duncan’s tables. Going to her seemed like the right thing to do, but how could I turn down the first chance at bonding with the others that I’d had in a while? Resisting my better instincts, I headed toward Duncan’s table, vowing I’d remedy things with Renee later.

Later never came.

Apparently, after a day of letting her resentment seethe within her, Renee couldn’t take it anymore and snapped during third period, going off on an even longer tirade than yesterday about our instructor’s closed-minded propaganda. Security hauled her off, and I felt a wave of sympathy that she had to endure purging two days in a row so soon out of solitary. Duncan met my eyes as she was led from the room, with an
I told you so
look on his face.

When lunchtime came around, I expected a last-minute change to the menu to reflect one of Renee’s favorite foods and add insult to the injury of her punishment. The posted menu showed the same thing that was listed this morning, however, and I wondered if she’d gotten off the hook or simply had the unfortunate luck to already have chicken strips as one of her favorite foods. But when Renee entered the cafeteria, long after the rest of us were seated and eating, I forgot all about the menu.

Gone was that defiant glint in her eyes. There was no sparkle to them at all as she stared around in confusion, looking as though she’d never seen this room, let alone any cafeteria, before. Her facial expression was equally bland, almost slack-jawed. She stood just inside the doorway, making no attempts to enter or get food, and no one bothered to help her.

Beside me, a detainee named Elsa caught her breath. “I thought that might happen.”

“What?” I asked, totally lost. “Was it a bad purging?”

“Worse,” said Elsa. “Re-inking.”

I thought back to my own experiences, wondering how that could be worse, since we were all re-inked at some point here. “Wasn’t she re-inked already when she got out of solitary?”

“A standard re-inking,” said another of my tablemates, a guy named Jonah. “Obviously, that wasn’t enough, so they super-sized it—maybe a little too much. It happens sometimes. It gets the message through to them, but it leaves them kind of dazed and forgetful about ordinary life for a while.”

A feeling of horror crept over me. This was what I’d feared, why I’d worked to create a magical ink that would fight the effects of the Alchemists’ compulsion. I’d seen that lifeless stare before—in Keith. When he’d been fresh out of re-education, he too had acted like a zombie, unable to do anything except parrot back the rhetoric the Alchemists had drilled into him. At least by that point, however, Keith had been able to handle the daily functions of life. Had he initially emerged that wiped? It was awful to behold. Even more awful was the fact that no one showed any sign of helping her.

I was out of my seat in a flash, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Duncan behind me.

I hurried over to Renee and took hold of her arm, guiding her inside the room. “Come in,” I said, focusing on her so that I wouldn’t have to see I had the attention of every single person in the room. “Don’t you want to get some food?”

Renee’s gaze stared blankly ahead for several seconds and then slowly turned to me. “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

A small frown appeared between her eyebrows. “Do you think I am? If you don’t think so …”

I steered her toward Baxter’s window. “I think you should be whatever you want to be,” I said firmly. She said nothing to the chef when we reached him, and as usual, he wasn’t forthcoming, so it was on me. “Renee needs some lunch.”

Baxter didn’t respond immediately, and I almost wondered if he might not act unless she specifically asked for food. If so, we could be standing here for a while. But after a few more moments of indecision, he turned away and began making up a tray of chicken strips. I carried it to an empty table for her and pulled out a chair, gesturing to her to sit. She seemed to respond well to a command like that, even unspoken, but made no attempts to do anything on her own once I sat down opposite her.

“You can eat if you want,” I said. When that elicited nothing, I changed my wording. “Eat your chicken, Renee.”

She obediently picked up a chicken strip and began working her way through the tray while I looked on with a growing sense of dread. Dread—and anger. Did the Alchemists really think this was a better alternative than someone questioning authority? Even if the most severe of the effects wore off over time, it was still sickening that they could do this to another human being. When I’d discovered I was protected from re-inking, I’d thought I was home free in that regard. And it was true:
I
was. But everyone around me, whether they were friend or foe, was at risk if the Alchemists went overboard with their re-inking. It didn’t matter if this extreme of an effect was a rarity. Even if it only happened one time, that was one time too many.

“Drink your milk,” I ordered when I realized she’d finished the chicken and was just staring at her plate again. She was halfway through the carton when the chimes rang. “Time to go, Renee. That sound means we have to go somewhere else.”

She stood as I did, and I looked up to see two of Sheridan’s henchmen approaching. “You need to come with us,” one of them told me.

I started to comply and then saw Renee’s helpless expression. Ignoring my escort’s urging, I turned to her and said, “Follow along and do what the others do. See how they’re putting their trays away now? Do that, and then go with them to the next class.” One of the guards tugged my arm to move, and I resisted until I saw Renee nod and join the others with her tray. Only then did I let the duo lead me out, and they didn’t look pleased at all by my small act of defiance.

They led me to the elevator and then down one level, to the floor where purging took place. I wondered if not finishing my own lunch would make that experience more or less unpleasant. To my surprise, though, we walked past the usual door and kept going to the end of the hall, where I’d never been. We passed closets labeled respectively as kitchen and office supplies and then continued on to doors that were ominously unmarked. It was into one of these that they took me.

This new room looked like the usual purging ones, save that the chair had strange arms on it. They were larger than the ones I was used to but still had restraints on them, which was all that mattered. Maybe this was the new upgraded model from wherever they got their torture devices from. Sheridan was waiting in the room for us, holding a small remote control. The guards strapped me into the chair and then, at a nod from her, left us alone.

“Well, hello, Sydney,” she said. “I must say, I’m disappointed to see you in trouble.”

“Are you, ma’am? I’ve been in purging a few times this week,” I replied, thinking of how the others had been incriminating me recently.

Sheridan made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “That? Come on, we both know it’s just the others playing their games. You’ve actually been doing remarkably well—until now.”

A spark of my earlier anger returned. Sheridan and the other authorities were well aware of when someone legitimately stepped out of line compared to when that person was simply being ganged up on. And she didn’t care.

I swallowed my rage and put on a polite face. “What exactly did I do, ma’am?”

“Do you understand what happened to Renee today, Sydney?”

“I heard she was re-inked,” I said carefully.

“The others told you that.”

“Yes.”

“And did they also tell you not to help her when she returned?”

I hesitated. “Not explicitly. But they made it clear in their actions they weren’t going to.”

“And don’t you think you should have followed their lead?” she pushed.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” I said, “but I thought my duty was to follow
your
instructions, not those of my fellow residents. Since neither you nor any other instructor told me not to help Renee, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. In fact, I thought acting compassionately toward another
human was something right. I apologize if I misunderstood.”

She scrutinized me for a long time, and I met her gaze unblinkingly. “You say all the right things, but I wonder if you mean them. Well, then. Let’s get started.”