The Golden Lily Page 0,35

that.

She'd had a number of difficulties with her classes, not to mention some outright embarrassments -

like when she'd been asked to create a map of Central America and had shown up with one of Nebraska and Kansas. She put on a cocky face, but I knew Amberwood overwhelmed her sometimes.

Jill joined us, looking bright and refreshed. Ideally, Moroi drank blood every day. They could survive on this twice-a-week schedule, but I'd noticed that Jill grew tired and rundown the farther she got from feedings.

"Your turn, Adrian," she said.

He was yawning and looked startled at being noticed. I don't think he'd really been interested in Sonya's blood experiments. As he stood up, he glanced over at me. "Will you walk with me a sec, Sage?" Before I could even lodge my protest, he said, "Don't worry, I'm not taking you to the feeding. I just want to ask you a quick question." I nodded and followed him out of the room. As soon as we were away from the others, I said, "I do not want to hear any more 'witty' commentary on Brayden."

"My commentary's hilarious, not witty. But that's not what I wanted to talk about." He came to a halt in the hallway, outside what I suspected was Dorothy's room. "So, it seems my old man's coming to San Diego on business next weekend."

I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, already getting a bad feeling about this.

"He doesn't know why I'm here, of course, or that I'm with Jill. He doesn't even know what city I'm in. He just thinks I'm partying in California, up to no good as usual." I wasn't surprised that Mr. Ivashkov wouldn't know the true reason for Adrian being here. Jill's "resurrection" was top secret, as were her whereabouts. We couldn't risk any extra people - not even someone who might not mean her harm - finding out where she was.

What did surprise me was that Adrian was working so hard to act like he didn't care what his father thought - but he obviously did. Adrian's face was convincing, but there was a note of bitterness in his voice that gave him away. "Anyway," Adrian continued, "he said he'd meet me for lunch if I wanted. Normally, I'd blow it off... but I'd kind of like to know what's going on with my mom - they never tell me when I call or e-mail." Again, I picked up mixed emotions from him. Adrian's mother was serving time in a Moroi prison for crimes of intrigue. You wouldn't know it by his cocky attitude and sense of humor, but it must have been hard on him.

"Let me guess," I said. "You want to borrow my car." I was sympathetic to those with difficult fathers, even Adrian. But my compassion only went so far and didn't extend to Latte. I couldn't risk any dents. Besides, the idea of being stuck without any way to get around scared me, especially when vampires were involved.

"No way," he said. "I know better than that."

He did? "Then what do you want?" I asked, surprised.

"I was hoping you'd drive me."

I groaned. "Adrian, it takes two hours to get there."

"It's pretty much a straight shot down the highway," he pointed out. "And I figured you'd drive a four-hour round-trip before giving up your car to someone else." I eyed him. "That's true."

He took a step closer, a disconcertingly earnest expression all over his face. "Please, Sage. I know it's a lot to ask, so I'm not even going to pretend you'd benefit. I mean, you can spend the day in San Diego doing whatever you want. It's not the same as going to see solar panels or whatever with Brady, but I'd owe you - literally and figuratively. I'll pay you gas money."

"It's Brayden, and where in the world would you get gas money?" Adrian lived on a very tight allowance his father gave him. It was part of why Adrian was taking college classes, in the hopes that he'd get financial aid next semester and have a bit more of an income. I admired that, though if we were all actually still in Palm Springs come January, it'd mean the Moroi had some serious political problems.

"I... I'd cut back on things to come up with the extra money," he said after a few moments of hesitation.

I didn't bother hiding my surprise. "Things" most likely meant alcohol and cigarettes, which was where his meager allowance usually went. "Really?"