Free The Indigo Spell by Richelle Mead Page B

crescents. Slowly, I managed to sink into the spell.
    I felt that same euphoria as the mirror shifted into a city image. No fog blocked
     me this time since presumably Marcus wasn’t wielding the kind of protective magic
     that Ms. Terwilliger’s sister had been using. The scene before me showed what looked
     like a very modest studio apartment. A mattress lay on the floor, and an ancient TV
     sat in one corner. I looked around for any identifying features but found nothing.
     The room’s one window finally gave me a clue. Outside in the distance, I could see
     a Spanish-style building that looked like a church or monastery. It was made of white
     stucco, with red-roofed domed towers. I tried to get a closer look, to fly up like
     I had in the other spell, but suddenly, I became aware of the Pennsylvania cold seeping
     into me. The image shattered, and I was back to kneeling in the field.
    “Ugh,” I said, putting my hand to my forehead. “So close.”
    “Did you see anything?” Adrian asked.
    “Nothing that’ll help.”
    I stood and felt a little dizzy but managed to stay upright. I could see Adrian ready
     and waiting to catch me in case I did indeed keel over. “You okay?”
    “I think so. Just a little light-headed from the blood sugar drop.” I slowly gathered
     up the mirror and bag. “I should’ve had you get orange juice too.”
    “Maybe this’ll help.” Adrian produced a silver flask from his suit jacket’s inner
     pocket and handed it toward me.
    So typical, Adrian helpfully offering alcohol. “You know I don’t drink,” I said.
    “A few sips won’t get you drunk, Sage. And it’s your lucky night—it’s Kahlua. Packed
     with sugar
and
coffee-flavored. Trade me and try.”
    Grudgingly, I handed him the bag and then took the flask as we began walking back
     to the hotel. I took a tentative sip and grimaced. “That is
not
coffee-flavored.” No matter how much people tried to dress up alcohol, it always
     tasted awful to me. I didn’t understand how he could consume so much. But, I could
     taste the sugar, and after a few more sips, I felt steadier. That was all I drank
     since I didn’t want to get dizzy for different reasons.
    “What’d you see?” asked Adrian, once we reached the parking lot.
    I described the spell’s scene and sighed in frustration. “That could be any building
     in California. Or the Southwest. Or Mexico.”
    Adrian came to a halt and slung the bag over one shoulder. “Maybe. . . .” He took
     out his phone from his jacket and typed in a few things. I shivered and tried to be
     patient as he searched for what he needed. “Did it look like this?”
    I peered at the screen and felt my jaw drop. I was looking at a picture of the building
     from my vision.
    “Yes! What is it?”
    “The Old Mission Santa Barbara.” And then, just in case I needed help, he added, “It’s
     in Santa Barbara.”
    “How did you know that?” I exclaimed. “What that building is, I mean.”
    He shrugged. “Because I’ve been to Santa Barbara. Does this help you?”
    My earlier dismay transformed into excitement. “Yes! Based on the window’s position,
     I can get a pretty good idea of where the apartment is. You may have found Marcus
     Finch.” Caught up in my elation, I squeezed his arm.
    Adrian rested a gloved hand on my cheek and smiled down at me. “And to think, Angeline
     said I was too pretty to be useful. Looks like I might have something to offer to
     the world after all.”
    “You’re still pretty,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. Another
     of those intense moments hung between us, the moonlight illuminating his striking
     features. Then it was shattered by a voice in the darkness.
    “Who’s there?”
    Both of us flinched and jerked back as a black-and-white-clad figure seemed to materialize
     out of the shadows. A guardian. It was no one I knew, but I realized I’d been foolish
     if I thought we could slip in and out of the hotel