The Indigo Spell Page 0,50

rules.

"I'm sorry," I said, picking up my tray and standing. "I never asked for any of this. Adrian will get over me."

"Do you really want him to get over you?" she asked.

"What? Why would you even ask something like that?"

She didn't answer and instead made a great show of stirring around her mashed potatoes. When I realized she wasn't going to elaborate, I shook my head and walked off toward the exit. All the while, I could feel her watching me as that question echoed in my mind: Do you really want him to get over you?

Chapter Nine

AS JILL HAD SAID, Adrian was more than happy to begin our hunt that afternoon. In fact, when I finally got ahold of him, he offered to pick me up when classes ended, in order to maximize our time. I didn't mind this since it meant I'd get to ride in the Mustang. Admittedly, I would've preferred to drive it myself, but I'd take what I could get.

"When are you going to name the car?" I asked him once we were on the road to Los Angeles.

"It's an inanimate object," he said. "Names are for people and pets."

I patted the Mustang's dashboard. "Don't listen to him." To Adrian, I said, "They name boats all the time."

"I don't really understand that either, but maybe I would if my old man ever fronted me the money for a private yacht." He shot me a quick, amused look before returning his attention to the road. "How can someone as cold and logical as you be so obsessed with something as frivolous as this?"

I wasn't sure which part bothered me the most - being called cold or obsessed. "I'm just giving the proper respect to a beautiful machine."

"You named your car after coffee. That's a sign of respect?"

"The highest1respect," I said.

He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a scoff and a laugh. "Okay, then. You name it. Whatever you want, I'll go along with."

"Really?" I asked, a bit startled. True, I'd been badgering him about naming the car, but I wasn't sure I wanted to be the one to wield that sort of power. "It's a big decision."

"Life or death," he said, deadpan. "Better choose carefully."

"Yeah, but you're the so-called creative one!"

"Then this'll be good practice for you."

I fell silent for a good part of the drive, struck by the gravity of the dilemma that lay before me. What should the name reflect? The car's sunny yellow color? Sleek lines? Powerful engine? The task was overwhelming.

Adrian pulled me out of my thoughts when we began nearing the outer Los Angeles suburbs. "We're not actually going into the city, are we?"

"Huh?" I'd been waging a mental debate between Summer Wind and Gold Dust. "Oh, no. We're heading north. Take the next exit."

Mrs. Santos had provided me with two neighborhoods known for their Victorian-style houses. I'd researched them extensively online, even going so far as to look at satellite pictures. I'd finally chosen one that most resembled my vision and crossed my fingers I'd have the same luck as I'd had in finding Marcus's apartment. Surely the universe owed me a few favors.

Unfortunately, things didn't look too promising when we finally reached the street I'd been given. It was a peaceful residential area, filled with those same distinctive houses, but nothing that quite matched the one I'd seen in my vision. We drove up and down the street as I scanned each side, hoping maybe I'd missed something.

"Ugh," I said, slouching back into my seat. No luck. The universe had apparently cut me off. "We'll have to check the other location, but seriously, it didn't look like a match."

"Well, it can't hurt to - " Adrian suddenly made an abrupt turn onto a side street we'd nearly driven past. I jerked upright as he clipped the curb.

"What are you doing? Think about your tires!"

"Look." He made another turn, putting us on a parallel street. Most of it was contemporary California housing . . . but one block had more Victorian houses. I gasped.

"There it is!"

Adrian came to a stop on the side of the street opposite from the house of my vision. Everything was there, from the wrapping porch to the hydrangea bush. And now, in the full light of day, I could make out the sign in the front yard: OLD WORLD BED-AND-BREAKFAST. Smaller print identified it as a historic site.

"Well, there we go." Adrian was clearly very pleased with his find, despite the