Silver Shadows (Bloodlines #5)(32)
Author: Richelle Mead

“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.

CHAPTER 9

SYDNEY

HOW COULD ADRIAN 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.”