So, welcome to my story.

FAQ:

Why is it rated M? Because of language and later on, sexytimes. I try to keep it classy and rooted in love, but if you're easily offended, then… sorry. Also, much later, there's some violence that some people might find a little disturbing/scary, depending on the person.

What is it basically about? It's about Sydney and Adrian getting to know each other, while Sydney learns more about her own powers and stuff. Sydney and Adrian go places in dreams and banter and have adventures. There's a bit of Jill and Eddie in it, too. There are lots of scenes of Adrian in a towel, which I consider extremely important. There's romance, friendship, humor, adventure, magic, dreamwalking, character development, botany, hand-to-hand fighting, and puns. Also, there are lots of commas and periods.

Why should I read it? Well, it doesn't suck, I'm fairly sure of that. I try to keep everyone in character, so that you can sort of pretend it's canon. Apparently, it's funny enough that it has made a few people laugh, and sad enough that it has made a few people cry. And if you are like me, and Sydrian causes you SO MANY FEELINGS, then why not laugh and cry with us a little?And I'd love it if you gave it a chance. I've been working really hard on it.

Why shouldn't I read it? If you're not up to a rated M story, then maybe give it a skip. As I said, I try to keep it classy, but it's not exactly rated G. Or PG. Or PG-13. Ha! Also, it's really long. Also, there's some stuff about eating disorders in there that might be triggering to people, and a few chapters (clearly marked) that are a bit scary/violent.

How long is it going to be by the time it's done? Probably like literally a million words. I have it all sketched out. I've divided it into four "books". You're about to start Book I (I hope).

That's too long, dude. You're telling me! You're only (possibly) reading it. I'm writing the darn thing. But you don't have to read it all at once. You can savor it. Like a 40-year-old port wine.

Why are you talking about port wine? You'll see.

When is it going to be done? No clue. I'm just going to keep working on it.

Why do you keep revising all the chapters and what has changed? I can't help it. In the words of Jay-Z, "Can't be scared to fail in search of perfection." I have slowed down some of Sydney's acceptance of things, which in retrospect, seemed a little too fast. I also made her a little less socially awkward, since I had gone overboard with that the first time around. You don't HAVE to re-read the whole thing, because it hasn't changed much, but if you do, or if you're new to the story, I think it's a little better than it used to be.

What will you do now that TGL has come out? I guess I'll have to read it or something. At some point. And for now, I guess my story has to be considered AU (Alternate Universe), but hopefully not too OOC (out of character). Of course, as the story goes on, the characters grow/change, so naturally by the later chapters, they might be considered OOC by original standards.

What is the soundtrack for this story? This actually isn't a frequently asked question, but it should be, since for me, the music I listen to when I'm writing really affects the way I write. So here are the key songs I listen to when I write this:

-The Lightening Strike Part I, What if this storm ends (Snow Patrol) - especially for chapter 18

-Disparate Youth (Santigold) - key song

-Mercy Street (Peter Gabriel) – especially for the side story with Eddie and Jill

-Twice (Little Dragon)

-Weather to Fly (Elbow) - especially for chapter 4

-You Know What I Mean (The Cults)

-Little Secrets (Passion Pit)

-I've Got Your Number (Elbow)

-Heartbeat (Childish Gambino)

-Not in Love (Crystal Castles ft Robert Smith)

-The Golden Floor (Snow Patrol) and Lights (Ellie Goulding) - these were especially for the chapter called "Vigil"

-Met Before (Chairlift) - this is playing in the background of a chapter I haven't published yet

-and from the Battlestar Galactica score, "Something Dark is Coming" and "Roslin and Adama."

Why do you take this so seriously? Because I'm weird.

I'm mad at you for not updating frequently enough. I think I'm going to leave nasty reviews and insult you. First of all, that's not a question, but I'll address it anyway. I guess I'll take it as a compliment that you miss my story that much, and thank you for your kind interest. If you really want me to update constantly, then feel free send me lots of money so I can quit my job and write full time. :)

Book I: The Forest and the Door

Chapter 1: Roman Holiday

"Please, Dad," I said. "Just let me talk to her for a minute – "

My father cut me off, his voice clear as a bell through the cell phone connection. "She said she doesn't want to talk to you. Frankly, Sydney, I'm not surprised. You may have fooled the rest of the alchemists into thinking you've gotten back on the straight and narrow, but I know you better than they do. I haven't forgotten what you did and neither has Zoe."

"I know, Dad. I'm working as hard as I can – "

"It's not enough. This conversation is over." He hung up without saying goodbye.

I was so angry that for a moment, I thought about throwing my cell phone through the nearest window, but knew that everyone in the dining hall would probably think I had gone crazy, and it was part of my job not to draw attention to myself. Pull it together, I told myself sternly, and walked back to the table where Jill and Eddie were eating dinner. Both of them had been studiously not watching me while I was on the phone. I looked at their meal choices as I slid into my chair. Jill was polishing off a whole plate of pasta, and Eddie was on his second cheeseburger. Something about the number of calories they were consuming seemed to add insult to the injury my dad had just dealt me, and I kept my eyes trained down at the small salad I had chosen, trying not to let the emotion show on my face. Zoe….

"Sydney?" Jill said. I had to look up. Her voice was full of concern. "Are you, um, like… ok?"

"I'm fine," I said, but the catch in my voice betrayed me.

"Bull," said Eddie. "That was your dad just now on the phone, right? Don't tell me that the alchemists are on your back still about the whole Rose thing. I thought all that was cleared up."

"Yes, it was my dad," I answered. "But everything's fine with the alchemists. It's just… well, it's hard to explain. Don't worry about it. It's my problem. In fact, it's not a problem at all."

"I'm sure that you can handle anything," Jill said, gently. "And Eddie and I would never pry –" here, she shot Eddie a quelling look – "but it might be easier if you opened up to us a little about it. After all," she said, a bright smile lighting her face, "I'm your 'sister'!"

"My sister?" I murmured, feeling a rising heat shoot through me. This vampire was not my sister! My father has just informed me that my real sister had received her lily tattoo today. All my hard work hadn't saved her from being an alchemist, hadn't saved her from the same burden I had to carry. And to top it off, she still wasn't talking to me. For a moment, I lost control. I spat out the words: "You're not my sister."

A stunned silence from both Jill and Eddie followed. After a moment, Jill spoke up. "I know that. Of course I know that." Her voice was tiny and sad, and I forced myself to look at her. There were tears in her green eyes, and I felt awful. Eddie looked at me reproachfully, as if to say, Really, Sydney? Really?

I took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, Jill. That came out more harshly than I had intended. I just, well, I got some news about my sister just now. So she's on my mind. I guess I just…" The angry look on Eddie's face told me that I wasn't helping my case much with such a lame apology. "That's no excuse, though," I amended. "You were trying to help, and I snapped at you. I'm very sorry."

Jill gave me a faint smile at that, and Eddie's face softened as well. Apparently, I was getting a little better at this interpersonal stuff. "Its ok," said Jill. "I hope your sister is ok too. I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but if you want to..." She trailed off.

I couldn't handle all the care and concern coming from her right now. I had to get out of there. "Thanks, Jill," I said. "I'll... think about it. But, anyway, I think I'm not very hungry. I'm going to go up to my room to study."

"Oh," said Jill, meekly. "I was hoping you and I could maybe study at the library together after dinner." I knew she needed the company. She was still getting over what happened with Lee. Plus, she probably was trying to avoid Angeline, who was being punished for yet another fight by being restricted to her room – their room. That meant that poor Jill was being punished for Angeline's violent nature, too.

"I'm sorry," I said again, and her sweet acceptance of my apology reminded of how things used to be with Zoe, so much so that I felt an awful tightness in my throat again. "Maybe tomorrow," I added, and I was fairly certain that both Eddie and Jill had heard the catch in my voice. I said goodnight to both of them, cleared off my plate, and went up to my dorm room.

Alone at last, I sat down on my bed with some of my textbooks, but I was hardly in the mood to study. All I could think about was Zoe with a golden tattoo on her cheek. She was probably packing her things right now, about to go off on an assignment that she was in no way prepared for. She didn't know it, but she was letting go of every freedom a person had, before she had even had a chance to enjoy it. No college, no fun, no being a normal teenager – no life. She would end up doing an internship someplace as awful as Russia. And she wouldn't have me to lean on, because she still thought of me as the enemy. The tears welled up in my eyes again, and I made an attempt to check them. I don't cry, I said to myself. I'm not some weepy girl. I'm a professional, and I have a job to do. And right now part of my job was passing myself off as a high school student, which meant homework. I finally chose to read an extra chapter in my history textbook, reasoning that studying my favorite subject would get my mind off things, and that it couldn't hurt to be a little ahead in one subject. It would make it easier to catch up on other things later.

Oddly enough, studying really did make me feel better. I had to force my thoughts into more productive channels, and that was good for me. I was just finishing the chapter and looking over my notes when I heard my cell phone vibrate from the nightstand. I looked over, automatically bracing myself for another lecture from my dad, and all my muscles relaxed when I recognized Adrian's number. I felt a smile come to my lips, but decided that the morning would be a better time to deal with whatever annoying thing he was calling about. Maybe he wanted cable installed in his apartment, or a new cell phone plan. Or maybe he was just making up some pretense to bother me because he was bored. He had been doing that an awful lot lately. Whatever his issue was this time, I would handle it in the morning. For right now, I decided to get ready for bed and hoped that things would seem better in the morning.

I had expected to toss and turn for hours, but thankfully a combination of a long volleyball practice and an early morning self-defense training session with Eddie had left my body almost as worn out as my mind. I soon fell into a deep sleep…. and found myself in the middle of an incredibly realistic dream.

I was in Rome, the modern city, standing just outside the famous ancient Coliseum. It was a warm summer day, with just a few small, fluffy clouds in the bright blue sky. No one else was there – no cars, no people. There were also no ticket takers at the door of the Coliseum. I took a step forward, oddly hesitant to walk over to the gateway and go inside the ancient building. I looked down and saw I was still wearing my pajamas. That's not right, I thought, and tried to think of what would be a better outfit for the occasion. In a moment, I looked back down and saw that I was wearing a white linen tank dress and lace up gladiator style sandals, along with my usual small gold cross necklace. The dress skimmed my body, flattering it in way that was nice-looking but not too flashy. The sandals, with their criss-cross straps, were much sexier than anything I'd normally wear. I thought I'd feel self-conscious about it, but no one was around, and the style really was perfect to wear in an ancient gladiator stadium.

I walked the short way to the entrance of the Coliseum. In real life, there would probably be people lined up outside such a famous attraction, waiting for hours to get in, but in this dream, I could step right through one of the ancient doors and stroll through the stony, shaded hallways. I smiled, feeling a happiness bubble through me like sap rising in a tree.

For a dream, it felt amazingly real. I heard my footsteps on the pavement and smelled the damp, slightly mossy stonework. I shivered at the cool air in the dark tunnels, and basked in the warm light when I came to sections that were exposed to the sun. I walked up stairs, through archways, around corners. Some areas were roped off, but I ducked under the ropes to peek around everywhere. It should have been spooky to be here without any other people, but it wasn't. I loved it. I had the Coliseum all to myself!

Or did I? For a moment as I rounded a corner, I felt that almost indefinable feeling of being watched. I felt someone watching me, but when I turned around there was no one there. "Probably a ghost," I said out loud, surprised at the sound of my voice in the hallway, then laughed at my own silliness. But did ghosts smell like expensive cologne? Or was I imagining that, too?

Shaking the feeling off, I made my way to the center of the Coliseum, the area where the gladiators would have fought to the death hundreds of years ago. There were archways set at regular intervals around the arena, each archway leading to a hallway that sloped slightly downwards, and I knew that, back in ancient Rome, the combatants would have entered from these doorways after waiting underneath the arena to fight. I spun around and around, soaking in the feel of the place, then struck a gladiator style pose, arms up as if in sword battle. I probably would never do anything so cheesy as pose like this in real life. "This is how I should pose for my portrait, if Adrian paints me," I said to myself out loud, and then stopped short, dropping my arms to my sides. Adrian...

Didn't this dream feel a little too real?

When was the last time I had had a dream that felt this real?

And there was that feeling again, that someone was watching me.

I walked to the center of the arena and shouted, as loud as I could, two words: "Show yourself!"

A few moments later, someone emerged from one of the gateways that had originally been intended for combatants. It was a tall male figure, dressed in a toga, crowned with a wreath of leaves. Underneath the wreath was that familiar carefully tousled brown hair, and as he got closer I was able to see those bright green eyes that I always found a little unnerving. I crossed my arms over my chest. The anger was building in me.

"Keep your skirt on, Sage," Adrian said as he got nearer.

I was in no mood to banter, and felt no need to tease him about the ridiculous toga. I was just furious that he had brought me into another spirit dream. This was magic again. Adrian knew how I felt about magic.

"How could you?" I shouted, when he was near enough to hear me. "How could you trick me into a spirit dream? I told you last time you did this - this is unnatural and wrong. Let me go." I found that I wasn't as frightened as I had been last time – mostly I was just angry.

"I didn't mean to trick you, Sage," Adrian said, sounding injured. "I just..."

I cut him off. "I don't want to hear it," I said. "Just let me go."

"Ok, ok, I will," he said. "But just give me one minute to explain. One more minute won't make a difference, right? Hear me out."

"Out with it, then," I said. "Quickly. Then let me go." He looked at me for a moment, studying my face. "Come on!" I shouted. "If you have something to say, say it."

He sighed. "Alright, then. A few hours ago I got a call from Jill. She said you were really upset, that you were crying about your jerk of a father calling you up and giving you some sort of bad news..."

"Don't call my father a jerk," I said, though part of me wanted to agree. My father kind of was a jerk, if you got right down to it.

"Ok. So your asshole of a father upset you," – I let out a bark of protest, but he went on – "and you were crying, and Jill was worried. I... I was worried too, you know? I mean, you may be impossible, but you're kind of my friend. I called you to check up on you, but you didn't answer. So I thought: Sydney needs something to cheer her up. I thought about what you said that time, about how you love ancient artifacts and how you've always wanted to go to Rome." I remembered that conversation. I had been chiding him about his chance to take college classes and had let it slip how much I had always wanted to study ancient buildings, and to go to Rome someday. I was surprised that he had been paying any attention to me. He went on, unaware of my surprise. "And, well, I went to Rome a few years ago, with my family, on vacation, so I know what Rome is like. I looked at some pictures and videos online to sort of boost my memory of the place. And spirit did the rest. As soon as you were asleep, I... brought you here." He gestured to the scenery around us.

"So, you kidnapped me, psychically."

"Well, yeah, but like the same way that sometimes people kidnap their friends and take them to a party or something..."

"I don't enjoy pranks like that."

"You don't really have friends, do you?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You grew up alone with those religious freaks. You never had friends who would blindfold you and take you to a surprise party or anything like that, because you never had friends at all."

"Ok, now you're insulting me," I said, though really he was just stating a fact. I didn't really have many friends. "I'm ready to go now. Any time. Just let me wake up."

"Do you want to fight a little bit first?" he asked. He held up a pair of swords that he hadn't been holding a moment ago, and held one out to me. "We're in the right place for it. You're wearing the right sandals for it." The look he gave my legs was appreciative.

I felt a blush rise to my face. "I'm not going to fight with you," I said, trying to shake off my embarrassment. "Not with swords, or even words. I just want to go home."

"Come on, Sage. Why not have some fun first?" He gestured around us. "Stroll around a bit more. It might cheer you up, once you get used to it."

"It absolutely will not, and I won't," I said, as firmly as I could without shouting. "I don't understand why you thought that bringing me here would make me feel better. You know that I hate magic. What were you thinking?"

He let out an exasperated sigh. The swords disappeared. "Look, Sage. I thought as long as I kept out of sight, you would just think you were having a really great dream and wake up in a good mood. I was trying to do a good deed! I didn't think it would upset you. I mean, my goal was to make you feel better. Plus, I know that you've gotten a bit more used to... us... since the last time I met you in a dream. I thought maybe you wouldn't mind as much now." He gave me a sort of sheepish smile. I didn't say anything, but I felt my anger abating, very slightly. He seemed to take my silence as a sign to continue. "I know that your father can be really hard on you. And I know that your life as an alchemist has prevented you from doing the things you really wanted to do, like traveling in Italy. So I sort of wanted to make up for that." I still didn't say anything. I really didn't know what to say. "I thought it would make you happy," he added, lamely. "And... I'm sorry I like, insulted your home-schooling. Or whatever."

I took a deep breath. Oddly enough, I found myself not really that angry anymore. For one thing, it was hard to be angry at Adrian for some reason. And for another, I really had been enjoying the dream. Could it really be damaging my soul? I wasn't really doing anything. Adrian wasn't even in the same room as me.

"I guess..." I said, slowly. "I guess it could be considered research. The alchemists don't know much about how spirit dreams work, so it could be educational of me to investigate the area."

"You mean, you want to stay?" His face lit up, and I was again struck by his eyes. How could anyone have eyes that green?

"Just a few more minutes," I said. "Under two conditions."

"Name them," he said.

"First, if I say that I want to wake up, you let me. That moment. No questions asked." He nodded, and held up one palm as if making a solemn vow. "And second, that you change into something more normal looking. I can't handle walking around with a guy in a toga, even if it is in the middle of an evil magic dream."

He laughed. "Done!" he exclaimed. He shimmered all over, and then he was wearing normal clothing: dark wash jeans and a gray t-shirt made of some soft silky material. He was still wearing the wreath in his hair, but I decided to let that go. "You won't regret it, I promise, Sage," he added, as we started crossing the arena.

"I already do," I said wryly.

"I always prefer to regret something I did rather than something I didn't do," Adrian said. "It's the founding principle of my life."

"So do you regret all the work and study you haven't done?" I asked, as we reached the stairs leading up and out.

"Deeply," Adrian said, grinning.

"It's amazing how much this general layout is similar to modern arenas," I said.

"I wouldn't know," Adrian said. "I'm not exactly a sports fan."

"Nor am I," I said. "But I've had to go to arenas to clean up after Strigoi messes." I looked down at the ground, remembering.

When I looked up at Adrian, I saw him looking at me carefully. "It's not easy for you, is it?" he asked.

"I do my best," I said.

"I know you do," he said. And then we were quiet for a bit as we found our way to the exit of the arena.

"Ok, so now I've seen the Coliseum," I said, as we emerged blinking into the sunlight. "What's next?"

"Your call," he said, keeping to the shade. "Any place you really want to go? I mean, solely for research purposes."

"The Pantheon," I responded immediately.

"Oh, that's that dome place, right? I've been there. Sure, let's go to the Parthenon."

"Pantheon," I said, correcting him. "The Parthenon is in Athens. It is dedicated to Athena Parthenos, the virgin goddess of wisdom and military strategy."

"She sounds like a drag," Adrian said.

I continued, ignoring his interruption. "The Pantheon, which is in Rome, was originally dedicated to all the gods. Pan for all, theos for gods. Pantheon, all gods. Later it was converted to a Christian church, dedicated to the one true God, as well as all the martyrs..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Sage. So you want to go?"

"Is it far from here?" I asked.

Adrian laughed. "It's around the corner," he answered.

"That doesn't sound right," I said, as we began walking. "The most important church wouldn't have been built so close to the..." My voice trailed off as we turned the corner and found ourselves in a large piazza. In the middle of the open area was fountain adorned with a tall monument, and a short distance away, slightly downhill from the fountain, was the ancient site I had so wanted to see. From the outside, it looked a lot like an ancient temple, with an exterior facade featuring a triangular roof resting on large ornate columns, but from this distance we could see the huge domed roof looming behind it.

"What the..." I said, bewildered.

"I got a little creative with the city layout," Adrian said, giving me that maniacal grin again. "A perk of exploring a city within a dream."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Fine," I said. "Well, shall we go in?"

"Seems the thing to do," Adrian said, and we walked down the slight slope to the grand entrance, past the enormous columns and through the open front door. A sign informed us that we were entering a sacred space, and I remembered that the Pantheon, though it looked from the outside so much like a pagan site, still functioned as a church. The sign reminded us that women should cover their shoulders in respect, and without a word, Adrian handed me a silver shawl. I resisted the natural urge to ask him where he'd gotten it, since the answer was obvious, and wrapped it around my shoulders. It was beautiful, soft and woven with shining threads, and I found myself wishing I could keep it somehow before I reminded myself that it was evil.

We passed through the site's rectangular antechamber and into the circular main room with its beautiful marble floor. Statues of saints were everywhere, and the air smelled faintly of incense. The ceiling was an enormous dome rising towards the heavens. At the top of the dome, a large circular hole revealed a bright blue sky, and a wide shaft of light coming from the hole lit up dust motes in the air. It was silent and imposing, and I wondered if God was here, as He was everywhere else.

The main altar was directly in front of us, facing the door, but there were a variety of smaller altars set at intervals, each one devoted to a different saint or martyr. I touched the cross at my neck, and then walked across the ornate marble floor. Reaching the high altar, I knelt in front of it to pray. If it was strange to pray in the middle of a magical reality, well, what can I say? It seemed like the right thing to do. Please, God, I thought. Please help me sort right from wrong here. This doesn't feel evil. Help me figure this out.

When I lifted up my head I was surprised to see Adrian looking thoughtfully at a statue at another altar. There was no sign explaining who the statue portrayed, and I didn't see any mark or symbol that would explain who it could be. Adrian's head seemed bowed, as if in prayer. I stepped over to his side.

"Hey, Sage," he said, when I approached. "I couldn't find the altar to that Athena chick, so I settled for this saint here, whoever it is. I figured it couldn't hurt to put in a good word for myself with the big guy."

"Well," I said. "Athena wouldn't have an altar here because she is a pagan Greek goddess and this is a modern Roman church."

"I knew that!" Adrian said, sounding a little annoyed. "Really, Sage, you forget I've been here before, in real life."

"I guess I did forget," I admitted. Then after a pause, I added, "I don't get it. When you came to Rome with your family, did you actually come in here?"

"Of course I did," he answered. He gestured away from the altar, and we began to walk in a circle around the room as we continued to talk. "Who goes to Rome and skips a visit to the Parthenon?"

"Pantheon," I corrected automatically. "But I mean, you really came in here? Inside the church?"

"Yes," he said, some annoyance in his voice. "What else would I have done? Stand outside having a cigarette?"

"Well, knowing you..." I said, and he laughed. "In all seriousness, don't you feel a little uncomfortable in a church? It is sacred ground, after all..." He stared at me, and I trailed off.

"You're thinking of Strigoi," he said. "I'm just like you. I don't burst into flame when I set foot on sacred ground." His reference to "bursting into flame" reminded me of what had happened that night with the Strigoi, when I had thrown the amulet and created fire from nothing. It still troubled me that I had done that, and I wondered if I should be praying for forgiveness for it. Well, later on I'd have to pray for forgiveness about a lot of things, I guessed.

We walked in silence for a little while after that, passing altars and saints. As we walked. I thought more about what he'd said. So, he was comfortable on sacred ground, like a human would be. It shouldn't have surprised me. I had learned from my training that some Moroi attended church, and that in fact, many of them claimed a sort of religious devotion. Really, religion was as much as part of Moroi culture as it was part of human culture, which struck me as bizarre. I guess I had always assumed that they would attend only special Moroi churches on unconsecrated ground. I guess I had never really thought about it. But if they really were dark, evil, creatures, what were they doing in church? It didn't make any sense.

Adrian had said that he was just like me. No he's not, spoke up a snarky voice in my head. You're a fire user, not a spirit user. That thought left a weird feeling in me, and I shoved it aside.

"Do you go to church?" I asked him, as we paused to examine another saint. "I mean, in your regular life. With your family."

"Our family isn't very religious," he answered. "Some of my friends are, though. Lissa goes to church all the time. Me? … I guess you could say that I believe in something, you know? Or someone. I'm not sure. No one judgmental or anything. No one who would care if I say a rude word, or smoke a cigarette. But someone. Someone great and generous. I know that in many ways I was quite blessed. I was given these looks and this artistic talent..." I groaned, but he went on. "And, well, there's spirit. It may have some serious side-effects, but it can do some beautiful things, too. Like heal people. And... what I did for Jill." He didn't say the words, but we both knew.

"Are you saying that spirit is a gift from God?" It was hard to keep the incredulity out of my voice.

"Well, if God made everything, then I guess he made me too, you know? And if I have this gift, where else did it come from? Oh, I'm far from a saint," he laughed, and gestured to the nearest altar and its statue. "But everyone has gifts. You? You're tough and brilliant and beautiful. Me? I'm brilliant and beautiful and full of spirit."

"Pride is a sin," I said, but the words were ringing in my head, like the echoes of my footsteps had in those deserted Coliseum corridors. You're tough and brilliant and beautiful.

"Ok," he answered. "Pride is a sin. So that means that I'm brilliant and beautiful, and full of spirit and sin." I looked away to hide my smile. "Seriously though, Sage," he said, and his voice had lost all its amused cynicism. "Like I said, everyone has a gift, you know? Remember at the mini-golf course when you learned how to play almost instantly?"

"That was easy though," I said. "Simple geometry and physics. Think about the angle of the path and the force needed to drive the ball..."

"But don't you see," he interrupted me. "It isn't at all simple to me. Or to most other people. The way you could just intuitively understand something like that? It seems like magic to me."

"You're being imprecise," I said. "I don't do magic. That's just a saying. 'It was like magic' is what people say when they are surprised by something, not necessarily when they are actually exposed to..."

He interrupted me again. "I know what the saying means, Sage. Listen, my point is, I can't see, hear, or feel how you do what you do, how you know so much, or can learn so quickly. It's just some quirk in that great big brain of yours."

"So you're saying that magic is just a 'quirk' too?"

"Not exactly. I'm saying that even though your talent can be understood by science, that doesn't make it seem any less magical to me. And while maybe what I do might not be explained by science yet, that doesn't make it evil or wrong. It may be understood someday." He gestured around the room. "Wasn't this place originally built to worship the gods of thunder and lightening? In a time before science explained that kind of thing? It seemed like magic to them then..."

Now I was the one to interrupt. "That's not what all religion is about. My faith has nothing to do with explaining the weather."

"Of course not, Sage. I wasn't knocking your faith." He sighed and leaned his head back, studying the ceiling, and then he said, "I don't think I'm explaining this right. Let's just drop it."

We walked on in silence until we came to the next altar. This wasn't devoted to a saint or martyr; it was the burial place of the Renaissance artist Raphael. A statue of the Virgin Mary stood above an inset in which the actual sarcophagus was visible.

"I know you're dying to tell me about Raphael," said Adrian, obviously trying to change the subject. "I'm guessing he was more than just a ninja turtle if he wound up buried in a place like this."

"The artist commonly known as Raphael was born 1483 and by the early 1500s was one of the most well regarded artists of his day," I said. "He was even more popular than Michelangelo and Leonardo DiVinci during his lifetime, and was regarded as a master of a perfectly balanced and naturalistic style. See the inscription on his sarcophagus?" I gestured and we both leaned forward to read it.

"You'll have to translate, Sage," said Adrian. "I don't know Latin."

"It says, 'Here lies the famous Raphael, by whom Nature herself feared to be conquered while he was living, and when he was dying, feared that she herself would die.' "

Adrian took a moment to digest that, then said, "Was he really that good? Better than nature?"

"That's how some viewed him. Later on there was a backlash to his style, and..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We'll go to an art museum sometime, Sage. You can tell me all about it." He paused, adding, "Actually, we really should do that. There have to be some decent museums in LA. But anyway, see, this is my point. Raphael had a gift that some viewed as almost... unnatural. Right?"

"Well, yes, but it wasn't. It was just an extraordinary, but human, gift. I thought we were going to drop this."

"I would, but this is important. At some level, you don't trust me. You can't really trust me, because of what I can do. But look at Raphael." He gestured to the sarcophagus. "Aren't people, to this very day, astonished by what he could do with paint and with stone? Was that magic? Was it a gift from God? Was it a quirk, some extra neuron in his brain or something? I don't know for sure, and neither do you. And maybe someday Moroi magic will fit into your world view as a gift from God, just like other special talents. Just like Raphael's artistic skill. Just like your intelligence, and my many, many amazing qualities." He smiled. "Maybe someday there'll be an explanation for it, and maybe there won't be. But either way, I know that I'm not evil. Well, not evil in the way you seem to think I am. And what I can do with spirit might be..." He sighed. "It might be the best thing about me. Maybe, really, the only good thing about me. So I hope you can learn to trust it. And the rest of me."

We were both quiet for a minute, and then I said, "It's not the only good thing about you, Adrian." He raised an eyebrow. I went on hurriedly: "But maybe it isn't such a bad thing. I mean, it's still evil. But maybe it isn't... bad."

He stared at me, and then burst out laughing. "Ok, Sage. Have it your way. Evil, but not bad. Does that mean you want to see a few more places, here in Rome? For research?"

"I guess we could," I said, slowly. We turned to walk back towards the door, passing rows of pews that had been set up for services.

"Where would you like to go next?" Adrian asked. As we walked, we passed through that large beam of light coming from the open window at the top of the dome. "Hold on," he said suddenly, before I could answer. The sunlight had fallen on my face, and he looked at me carefully. "I wish I could paint you right here," he said. "With the light in your eyes just like that." I felt my heart-rate increase, just as it had that day in his apartment, when he told me my eyes were beautiful. What was going on here? He smiled. "It'll be a beautiful painting. Very balanced. True to nature. Why improve on this?" He gestured to my face. "Maybe someday they'll bury me next to Raphael," he said with a strange sounding laugh, and walked away. Just like that, the spell was broken. Well, the spell his words had cast. We were still in the midst of this magic spirit dream, of course.

We emerged from the Pantheon and walked up the slight slope to the fountain. We had a seat by its edge, and I took off my silver shawl, which immediately disappeared. I listed a few places I'd like to see, museums and other archaeological sites, but most of them were places Adrian had never been to, which meant we couldn't go there now.

"How about the Trevi Fountain?" he asked finally, and I agreed to the idea. We stood up, and everything around us shimmered for a moment. Then we were standing in a small back street. All around us were souvenir shops and little cafes. "I could have brought us straight there, but it's more fun if you come around the corner and see it," he explained. "But let's get some gelato first."

He pointed out a cafe that had a gelato display in the front window. The soft ice cream was arranged into beautiful cloud-like lumps, decorated with fruit, chocolate, and even toys. There was no one working in the cafe at all, so we just helped ourselves. I chose a cup – much more practical than a cone – and took a scoop of vanilla. It looked extremely high quality, and was flecked with tiny specks of real vanilla bean. Well, real dream vanilla bean.

"Really, Sage?" Adrian said. "All these flavors available, and you choose vanilla?" He had chosen one scoop each of five or six completely insane looking flavors, including mint, coconut, butterscotch, and bubblegum. I wasn't sure if they would be good even on their own, and all mixed together on one cone – well, let's just say it wasn't exactly my style. But Adrian eyed it with delight.

"I like vanilla," I said. "It's a lot harder to make good vanilla ice cream, because the flavor is so delicate. You can't hide poor quality ingredients with strong fake flavors. Good vanilla is hard to come by, and a good way to judge the quality of an ice-cream manufacturer." Adrian rolled his eyes and took a few experimental licks of his crazy creation. I took a spoonful of my choice. Dream or no, it was the most amazing ice cream I had ever tasted. I wondered if it would count as calories in real life, and made a mental note to go for a jog in the morning just in case.

For a minute or two, we just walked through the narrow alleys, eating our gelato. It felt surprisingly normal, now that I was sort of used to being in a spirit dream. I found myself teasing him about his choice of flavors, since even he couldn't seem to eat the bizarre ice cream cone he had made. Then we came around a corner and there it was – the Trevi Fountain.

I had seen pictures of it all my life, but seeing it in person – or, well, even in a dream – it felt completely different. The fountain was built on the facade of a classical building, complete with windows and columns. Oceanus, the spirit of the ocean, stood at the center, his clam-shell chariot drawn by horses. The water spilling from the fountainheads was clean and blue. I stood entranced for a long moment.

"Normally," said Adrian, his voice a little hushed, "this place would be packed, and I mean packed, with tourists. It would be hard to get close." He paused for a moment, and then continued in a louder, less reverent voice: "But go on. Get nice and close. Jump in the water if you want!" I put the rest of my gelato down on a bench and took a few awestruck steps closer, then a few more. As I walked closer, I had to walk down a few steps to get to the level of the water. When I finally reached the fountain, I knelt down and leaned over the concrete barrier to touch the water, marveling at how cool and wet it felt. This was so much more than a dream. I splashed some water on my face and then turned and looked over my shoulder. Adrian was sitting on a bench and watching me, eating a cone of what looked like peach gelato. The rest of the cone had disappeared. The color of the ice cream matched his shirt, which was now a pale orange. A little while ago, this little switch-eroo would have bothered me, but I realized that at the moment, it really didn't. In fact, I couldn't help but smile. Adrian was really something sometimes. And he was still looking at me. Why was he looking at me like that?

I turned away from his gaze. He wasn't a bad guy, even if he was an evil creature of the night. In fact, maybe he wasn't even really that evil. Maybe Moroi weren't evil, or at least, no more evil than humans were. They were alive, like me. Seeing those Strigoi a few weeks ago had really emphasized the difference between alive and dead. I remembered Adrian holding my hand in silent comfort when we both thought we were going to die. Was that evil, that touch, that comfort? If Moroi weren't really evil, could their magic be evil? Maybe it's just another talent. Something different from person to person. And he doesn't look evil. He looks like any other guy. Well, not like any other guy. He looks much bett-

Adrian appeared suddenly at my side, cutting off my thoughts. He gave me a rakish grin, his face just inches from mine."Come on, Sage. Let's do it." My heart caught in my throat. "Let's dive right in!" He turned away from me and headed for the bright blue water.

Thankfully, he didn't actually dive – after all, the water looked about a foot and a half deep – but he did jump in wearing all of his clothing, including his shoes. I started to say something like, "Hey! Your clothing will be ruined! Aren't those shoes leather?" but I cut myself off before the ridiculous words passed my lips. He was splashing and playing in the water, and I shook my head, unable to keep the smile off my face. It did actually look like fun.

I sat down on the barrier and began undoing my sandals. It took a little time, with the straps criss-crossing up my calves. I looked up and Adrian was wearing a bathing suit now. Thankfully, it was a pair of trunks, not a speedo or anything too revealing, but still. The sight of his muscular, trim body was unnerving. Plus he was still wearing the ridiculous wreath on his head. I looked away and tried to focus on my sandals. Why? Why was this unnerving? He wasn't even human. What did it matter if he was attractive? Physical beauty was irrelevant, just a coincidence of genetics. I finished undoing my sandals and stepped gingerly into the fountain, holding the edge of my skirt up slightly to keep it from trailing in the water.

"Come on, Sage," Adrian said, paddling closer. "Get wet!"

I held up a warning finger. "If you splash me, so help me, I will wake up on my own power, Adrian."

"Fine, fine. I won't splash you. I might dunk you, though..."

"Adrian, I am not kidding."

"Ok, I won't splash or dunk you. But come on..." He found a shady spot created by the shadow of a statue, and sat down in the water as if it were a giant, deep bathtub, giving me another rakish grin. "Live a little, Sage!"

"I am living!" I answered, gesturing to the fountain and my feet in the water.

He studied me before replying. "Yeah, I guess this is 'living' for you," he said finally, then added, tentatively: "It looks like your aura is... I mean, I think you're... I mean, are you having fun here?"

Had he said the word "aura?" Maybe I had misheard. I took a deep breath, noticing how cool and moist the air was here by the fountain. "I guess I am having fun." I was afraid he'd push it, but he didn't. He just smiled and nodded, then leaned back in the water, floating a little. I drank in the scene – the statues, the buildings, the warm sun, the cool water. It was a peaceful moment. I didn't jump and splash like Adrian, but I did walk around, feeling the worn smooth concrete under my bare feet and enjoying the slight resistance of the water as I took careful steps.

After a little while, Adrian stood up, water dripping from his wet hair and down his bare... I stopped that line of thought and focused on his hair. Somehow the wreath had stayed on his head as he had floated. Of course it had. "Well, Sage," he said. "Now that you've experienced the famous Trevi Fountain, want to see someplace else?"

"We could do that," I said, stepping out of the water. I sat down on the concrete barrier to dry off my feet the best I could and tie my sandals back on. Adrian stepped out lightly, and when I glanced at him a second time, I could see that he was already dressed in dry clothes. Now he was wearing a charcoal gray suit over a gray dress shirt, accentuated with a bright green tie that exactly matched his eyes. He still had on the ridiculous wreath. He looked like a photograph in a magazine ad for cologne or something. He noticed me looking at his suit and said, "Well, you know. When in Rome..."

"When in Rome?" I knew the saying, but didn't see the relevance.

"This is a Dolce and Gabbanna suit," he said. I stared at him, then went back to tying up my sandals. "That's an Italian designer right?" Adrian asked. I sighed, and he went on. "Do you want to change into something a little more... Italian? I mean, there has to be something out there a little snazzier than what you have on. Not that you don't look nice... But I saw some Gucci gowns in a little boutique when I was here last time..."

"Don't push it," I said again, then thought for a moment. "Wait, so you disapprove of this outfit?"

"No, no, Sage. I adore it. It is the nicest thing I've ever seen you wear."

"But does that mean you didn't pick out this outfit for me, when you brought me here?"

"No way," Adrian said. "That was all you. Don't you remember? You were wearing your pajamas when you came..."

I did remember. I was in pajamas at first, and then I had looked down and found myself wearing this outfit instead. I couldn't believe that my own subconscious had chosen such sexy sandals. As I thought about that, they disappeared, and were replaced by a pair of more sensible walking sandals.

"Damn," said Adrian. "I quite liked those lace-up ones. Oh well, I guess that's what I get for pressing my luck. So, you're ready to go?"

"Almost," I said. "First, we have to do something. Do you have any coins?"

"I have anything you need, baby," he said, waggling his eyebrows at me. "What kind of coins?"

"Any kind will do."

He concentrated slightly, then held out his open hand to me. In his palm were two bright golden dollars, and I took one. He asked, "What are they for?"

"Turn around," I instructed. We both stood with our backs to the fountain. "Now, we're supposed to toss the coin with our right hands, over our left shoulders, into the fountain."

"Is this a magic spell, Sage?" His voice was full of amusement.

"No. It's a custom," I said, flatly.

"Should I make a wish?"

"If you want. The custom is to toss the coin into the fountain. Doing so is said to ensure that you'll come back to Rome someday."

"Won't this really just ensure that we dream of Rome again someday?"

"Really, Adrian, I'm not an expert in dream logic." That got a chuckle from him. "Now, let's throw!"

I found myself, unexpectedly, making a wish as we both threw our coins in the water: Please let everything be alright. It was the first wish I'd come up with, and the coin was tossed into the water before I had time to think of another one. I was regretting such a formless, unclear wish, and Adrian noticed the look on my face, I guess, because he offered me another coin.

"Want a do-over?" he said.

"I really shouldn't..." I said.

Before I could finish what I was going to say, Adrian closed his eyes and threw the coin over his shoulder. "Twice the power!" he said, flashing me a handsome grin. I didn't want to tell him that the legend was that two coins thrown in the fountain were supposed to bring about a new love. A new love? I thought. With who? Who would be a good match for Adrian? Jill was too young, of course. There weren't any other Moroi around. I didn't want to think about any of it. It gave me a weird feeling.

"So," I said, trying to put the matter from my mind. "Where are we going? We can't exactly go to any museums. Shopping would be fairly pointless..."

"I have an excellent idea. Follow me, my alchemist friend."

We set off through the winding streets of Rome's old quarter. After we'd walked for a few minutes, we came upon another gelato shop. This one was even more elaborate than the one we'd stopped at the first time, with dozens and dozens of flavors. "This shop was my favorite when I was in Rome," Adrian said.

"You're taking me to a gelato shop? That was your excellent idea?"

"Of course not. This is just a pit stop. And this time, you have to choose something other than vanilla."

"I told you. Vanilla is really actually my favorite. I'm not being boring on purpose."

"How's this for a deal." He leaned in close. "Let me pick out a flavor for you, and I'll try the vanilla."

"That doesn't make sense. There's no incentive for me. Why would I care if you try the vanilla or not?"

"Because then you'll have the satisfaction of being right if it turns out I like it."

"I still say it doesn't make sense, but whatever. What flavor are you going to pick out for me?"

He stepped behind the counter, a jaunty red and white striped paper cap on his head now, balanced on top of the wreath that he seemed determined to never be without. He put several scoops of pale green gelato into a cup, and handed it to me along with a pink plastic spoon. He said with a very thick fake Italian accent, "Here you go, mademoiselle. Will there be anything else for you today?"

I took it from him, saying, "This will be all, and by the way, mademoiselle is French, not Italian." I took a taste of the gelato, expecting pistachio or mint, and was surprised to find that it was a very delicate honeydew melon flavor. I looked up at him, but he was focused on scooping vanilla gelato onto a sugar cone. When he was done, he smiled over at me. I was trying not to just devour the whole cup of ice cream at once.

"Good?" he asked.

"Delicious, actually," I said.

He looked pleased. The cap was gone again, and a stray breeze ruffled his brown hair from under the wreath."I knew you'd like it. You loved the melon at the buffet that time..." Several weeks ago, after Lee's funeral, we had all gone out for a sort of brunch, and while it had been a sad occasion, we had actually had a fairly nice meal at a local buffet-style restaurant. I still remembered Jill, her eyes red from crying, smiling when Adrian had done a lame "magic trick" with a stack of toothpicks. How Adrian had noticed me eating a big plate of melon, my favorite fruit, I did not know.

"And what do you think of the vanilla?" I asked as we left the gelato shop and headed back out into the alleyway.

"It's actually delicious," he said. "It might be my new favorite flavor. When you're right, you're right, and you are right, Sage." With his free hand, he actually patted the back of my head, then trailed his hand down to my shoulder before he pulled away. "See?" he said. "We each have something to teach the other."

I brushed at the shoulder he had touched. It felt strange, like the way your foot feels when it's been asleep and begins to wake up. "So you can teach me about gelato and jumping into fountains," I said, "and I'll teach you about everything else?"

"Pretty much!" he said.

"Well, here's one more thing that maybe you can explain," I said. "If you've never had the vanilla gelato, then how do you know what it tastes like? I mean, in order to create it in the dream? How can all of these details be coming from your mind?"

He shrugged, unconcerned. "I don't really know. I think once you've been somewhere, spirit sort of does the rest. I sometimes think that maybe we're sort of actually... here. Or... something. I don't really know. I'd say we should ask Lissa, but she never really got this dream walking thing down. Maybe Sonya knows. Maybe someday you and I should try to go somewhere neither of us has actually been." He considered that. "Actually, we really should. If I could get the knack of that, just think of how much we'd save on airplane tickets."

We were coming around another corner – streets in this neighborhood were extremely winding and complicated – and we found ourselves in a wide avenue. The buildings here had different architectural elements than most of the other buildings we had seen so far. In fact, they had a Spanish influence that I recognized from the architecture book I used to study, growing up. "Did you take us to Spain by mistake?" I asked.

"Of course not, oh ye of little faith." He laughed, and I touched the cross around my neck without really noticing it. "This is what this area looks like. I don't really know why. But I remember it was pretty. I figured you would know what the deal was, why it was like this." We looked around at the Spanish style buildings, the few tall palm trees, and the wide expanse of stairs...

"Oh!" I said, my hand flying up to my mouth. "This is the Piazza di Spagna!" At Adrian's blank stare, I added, "The Spanish steps."

"I knew you'd figure it out," Adrian said.

We stood in a wide piazza. Looking in one direction, there was a wide staircase that went up and up, to a large church that looked down on us. At the base of the stairs was a pretty fountain featuring a old-fashioned boat, designed to look like it had partially sunk into the shallow water. Clear water poured from spigots at the bow and stern, as well as from a traditional fountain in the center. "This area was designed by a French architect," I said, "but is known as the Spanish plaza because it's near the old Spanish embassy, and of course because of the architectural style. It's a famous tourist area."

"Thank you for the history lesson," Adrian replied, but he didn't sound too sarcastic. "And what is the story of this fountain here?"

"It's called the Fountain of the Old Boat," I said. "The story is that apparently there was an incredibly high flood one year on the Tiber river, and a boat washed up here. So they built a fountain here to commemorate it. This is highly unlikely, however, since the Tiber is many, many miles away. The only custom I'm aware of with regards to this fountain is fairly pedestrian. The water that comes from that spigot is supposed to be very good, so people drink from it."

"And it's good luck?" Adrian asked.

"No, I don't think so. It's just... you know. Water."

"Well, if it's the custom to drink, let's do so." He produced two ornate silver goblets and held one in the stream of water coming from the spigot. He handed the full glass to me, then filled a glass for himself. "Cheers, Sage," he said, and we clinked glasses.

The water was cold and fresh tasting. As we sipped from the goblets, I said, "You know, one theory about the fall of Rome states that because the rich people drank from lead-glazed goblets, they all became ill with lead-poisoning, while the poor drank from unglazed ceramics, keeping them safe. Lead-poisoning causes brain damage over time. So, as time went on, more and more of the heads of state became mentally ill, while the rest of the population was mentally healthy. Of course, this imbalance couldn't last forever, so ultimately the state fell into disarray..." I trailed off. "I'm doing that thing again, aren't I?"

"What 'thing'?" Adrian asked, with interest.

"That over-educated, over-informed thing I do."

Adrian shrugged, took a sip of his water, and then commented: "I enjoy your over-educated, over-informed thing. I always learn something when I hang out with you. I never would have known how important it is to buy high quality goblets if it weren't for you. Believe me, I'm going to have a long talk with my suppliers when I wake up."

"Don't make fun of me," I said.

"I'm not making fun of you. If I were, you'd know. Trust me." I really couldn't read his expression.

"It's just... " I said. "We're supposed to be having fun, and I just launched into a theory on the fall of Rome. Do you know, some guy asked me out a few weeks ago, and I didn't even notice. I gave him a mini-lecture on the history of cinema."

I expected Adrian to laugh, but he didn't. "Who asked you out?" was his immediate response.

"An acquaintance of Trey's."

"And who is Trey?"

"A sort-of friend... He's really not relevant to my point."

"Well, did you go out with him? The guy who asked you out?"

"I told you, I didn't even realize he was asking me out. Later on, one of my friends told me that she had overheard the whole thing, and that he hadn't been asking my opinion of movies. He had been asking if I wanted to see a movie with him." I wrinkled my nose slightly. "She was laughing like she'd never seen anything so funny in her life. Apparently, I wouldn't know a date if I were actually on it." I sighed. "Sometimes, I think I should have had a 'personal interaction' lesson or two, as part of my home-schooling."

Adrian did laugh at that. "Exactly how would that work?"

"Like everything else. Perhaps we could have watched movies, and discussed the actions of the characters to better understand body language cues."

"And for homework?"

"Essays, I guess..."

"Would your final project be to recreate a prom in your parent's basement?" His face was absolutely dead serious.

"We don't really have a basement. We live in an area prone to flooding so..." I broke off because Adrian burst into laughter.

"Oh, Sage," he said. "You won't learn what you need to know from a movie. I think it's a good thing that you're stuck in high school again. This time you have a chance to figure out what the rest of us have been learning since we were in kindergarten. And for the meantime, please don't change a bit. I love your mini-lessons." He gave me that maniacal grin again. "I mean, sometimes I want to gag you with a scarf or something, but the rest of the time I think it's adorable." He stood up and put down his goblet, which then immediately disappeared. "Come on, Sage. Since we're at the Spanish steps, we should go to the top," he said. "What do you think?"

"Seems the thing to do," I said.

"Shall we get into the spirit of things?" He shimmered all over again, and now he was wearing a Spanish bullfighter's outfit. "You could wear something like this..." He gestured to a mannequin that hadn't been there a second ago. It was wearing a red ruffled dress appropriate for a Flamenco dancer.

"Adrian, no. No way. First of all, we're not in Spain. Second, even if we were, I'm not preparing to do Flamenco dance. That takes years of training. Third, you're not a bullfighter..."

"Fine, fine, fine, Sage! Well, how about this, then. Just as a nod to the occasion?" He pulled a bright red lily from behind his back. It was attached to a bobby pin, and before I had time to tell him not to, he had pinned it in my hair, behind my ear. "There," he said, with pleasure. "That's perfect." He held up a mirror that he had summoned for the occasion. I had to admit, the flower looked kind of cute.

"Hmm," I said. "I guess I like it."

"You're welcome," he said. He then gestured to the steps, and I saw that he was back in his gray suit. "Well, Miss Sydney Sage," he said, in an artificially aristocratic way. "May I whisk you to the top?" He bowed and offered me his elbow.

"Thank you," I said. "But I think I would like to go to the top under my own power."

"Sage," he said, in his normal voice, "I meant, let's just... go to the top. Those are a lot of steps."

"I know. Something like 130, I think," I said. "But I want to climb them."

"Come on, you crazy alchemist. That's the great thing about a dream. We can just sort of... be there. At the top."

"Well, you can do that if you want. I'll meet you up there soon. But I want to walk up myself."

"Why?" He was incredulous.

"Because. The view will be more meaningful if I work for it."

"That makes no sense," he said. But he began climbing the steps with me.

We climbed in silence, not hurrying, just taking them one at a time. It was tiring, and I wondered if the sun was affecting Adrian. I looked over and noticed him carrying a silky silver parasol. Our eyes met and I stifled a grin, and we just kept climbing.

When we reached the top, we sat down by yet another monument to look down on the city below. The view was stunning. We could see the Capital in the distance, as well as a few other of Rome's most famous buildings. The sun was beginning to set, and there was a faint pink tinge to the sky.

"See?" I said. "It was worth the walk."

Adrian said, "Maybe, Sage. I'm still not sold on the whole physical exercise thing. But in any case, let's celebrate making it to the top." He handed me a glass of champagne, again pulled from nowhere. When I hesitated to take it, he said, "Don't worry. It's non-alcoholic."

The absurdity of this hit me and I started to laugh. Non-alcoholic champagne, plucked from the sky, to drink in the middle of a dream, while watching the sun set on a city that was actually thousands of miles away, while hanging out with gorgeous semi-evil royal vampire wearing a wreath on his head? Sure. Why not? Once I started laughing, I found I couldn't stop. When I tried a sip of the champagne, the bubbles went up my nose and I started laughing harder. Adrian just watched me laugh, and patted me on the back once or twice. He was grinning, but I guess he didn't find the whole thing as funny as I did.

When I had finally stopped laughing, Adrian said, "Well, even if you're not sure yet about spirit dreams, I'm really glad that you decided to stay. For research purposes."

"Yeah, I guess it was a fun day. Or night. Or whatever this is."

"It was, wasn't it? And you're obviously feeling better. That's a load off my mind."

"What makes you think I feel better? My little laughing fit?"

"No, although I guess that's part of it. I just can tell. You were feeling pretty down before, and now you're... feeling better."

He seemed so smugly sure of himself that it sort of bothered me. "Why are you so confident?" The truth was, I really was feeling much better. Being in this place seemed to lighten my mood. I didn't really know why. I just was feeling... free. And oddly safe. It didn't make any sense.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Let's just say, I have my ways." He raised his eyebrows at me and grinned.

"Ok," I said. "Don't tell me."

After a few seconds of silence, he said, "Ok, I'll tell you. It's your aura."

"Are you serious? You actually believe in auras?"

"What, you believe in spirit dreams and bringing people back from the dead, but it's auras that you draw the line at?"

He had a point, but I wasn't going to admit that. "Fine. So, what about my aura?"

He sniffed. "I don't want to tell you about it. You don't believe me." I sighed. After another few seconds, he went on as if he had never stopped. "People have auras that tell you something both about their personality and their mood. Your aura, Sage, is a beautiful band of color around your head. The colors are strong: green and purple and blue. It's one of the reasons I know that you're a stand-up kind of girl." I sighed again, but I was glad to know that at least my aura was nice-looking.

"So, what does that have to do with how I feel?"

"Let me finish! Listen. When someone is feeling good, healthy and strong, their auras sort of shine. And when they don't feel well, darkness creeps in, the colors fade. When I first saw you in the Coliseum tonight, your aura was tinged with darkness, and the colors were dull."

"Well, maybe that was because I was angry."

"Oh, you were angry too. I could see the bands of red. And some spots of pale yellow... that's fear. But that wasn't all of it. It was darkness, a weight, a sadness. Something was pulling you down. But now? Your aura is bright and shining. The colors are clear, and there are bands of gold, almost as golden as..." His hand reached up to touch my face, his fingers running along the lines of my tattoo, and he was staring right into my eyes. I realized that a few months ago I would have pulled away instinctively from the touch of a Moroi. At the moment, though, I didn't see the need. "It's golden as your... tattoo," he finished. His hand lingered on my cheek, so warm, his eyes now focused on something just above my head. "It's even brighter now than it was a moment ago," he said. "Maybe it likes being talked about." He paused and our eyes locked again. Then he laughed and dropped his hand. I could swear I could still feel his fingers on my skin, like he had left a trail of fire. Was that some sort of Moroi magic? Or was it just an effect of the spirit dream?

"Anyway," he continued. "That's how I know that you're feeling better. Golden aura equals happy girl." He trailed off, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. "You know," he said, slowly. "When I saw Rose in that dream that time, just before she came back to court... her aura was like the sun. Exactly like looking at the sun. I bet that was when she and Belikov had just...figured things out." His voice was bitter.

I didn't know exactly what he was talking about, but I could sort of put the pieces together. And though I couldn't see auras, I could sense a major shift in mood. Adrian's moods always could change on a dime. "I'm sorry," I said, as gently as I could. Gentle wasn't normally my thing. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think they were... together, while we were traveling. I think that Rose was faithful, for a long time."

"But ultimately, she went back to him." He sighed, then went on, with a thoughtful expression, "I guess that 'back' is the key word here. While she was with me she was just biding her time, waiting for him to come back. He makes her happier than I could, apparently. It was always Belikov. I wasn't the right man for her. I never was."

"Do you think..." I said, slowly. "Well... I mean, I like Rose. A lot. I've spent a lot of time with her, and I think she's a great person. For an evil creature of the night, of course." He didn't laugh. "But do you think that she was the right person for you? I mean, ignoring whether you were the right person for her. Was she the right person for you?" I seemed to have stumped him, because he didn't say anything. After a moment, I sort of blundered on. "I heard about that 'dating contract' you signed for her." Rose had told me about that as we had sat by the fire when we were staying with the Keepers, months and months ago. "I still think that's weird. Why promise someone to change, just to please them? I don't really know a lot about this stuff, but I think that you need someone who sort of... inspires you, but not in a controlling way."

"Rose didn't control me," he said.

"That isn't quite what I meant. What I meant was, you need someone who motivates you to do your best, not because you want to impress them, but because you feel like you can do better, from having them around. Because they make you want to do the right thing, not for them, but for yourself."

He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was so quiet I had to lean a little closer to hear him. "You do that, sort of."

"Well, yeah. So, you need someone like that..." My voice sounded unnaturally high, even to me. I started babbling. "And once this assignment is up, you can go back to the Moroi court and find someone else, someone who'll take you seriously, even when you don't take yourself seriously. Someone who'll see the good in you and not be afraid to call you out when you need it..." I stopped suddenly, aware of him staring at me. Was there something on my face? I mean, other than my tattoo. My heart was pounding in my chest. My hands were sweating. What was wrong with me? Was I coming down with something?

"And where would I find someone like that, Sage?" he asked. His voice was still quiet, but it had a certain intensity now. "Someone who does all that, and looks good in a pair of lace up sandals?" I looked down. The sandals had reappeared on my legs! Had he done that, or had I? We didn't speak for a long, long moment. Then he said, "By the way, you never told me what you wished for by the fountain. Do you want to know what I wished for?"

"It won't come true if you say it out loud," I said. My voice was barely above a whisper.

He leaned closer, so that he could hear me, I guess. "I don't believe that superstition. I wished that everything would be alright. I wished it twice. Isn't that dumb? What did you wish for?"

I was starting to freak out. I had to get out of here. I had to wake up. "Let me go," I said loudly.

"What?" Adrian said, surprised.

"You said you'd let me wake up, whenever. You promised you'd do it when I asked. So do it."

He looked stunned and hurt, but after the tiniest pause, he nodded. "I keep my promises. Goodnight, Sydney," he said, and the world began to dissolve around us.

I woke up in my bed and sat up, not sure what to do or how to feel. Seriously, what was wrong with me? My heart was still pounding, and my hands were just as sweaty in the waking world as they had been in the dream. I got up and started pacing around my room. I found my medicine kit and took my temperature, but it was normal. With a flashlight and a mirror, I checked my throat for signs of infection. I systematically felt all my lymph nodes for swelling. I checked for rashes on my cheek and shoulder, the places that had been tingling before. I couldn't find anything wrong. So what was up with the erratic heartbeat and the sweaty hands and the...

…. the sudden and overwhelming feeling of...

"I am a professional," I told myself sternly. "Whatever is going wrong right now, I can handle it. I have been trained since childhood to solve problems."

But an answering thought in my mind came unbidden: I don't think this the kind of problem you were trained for, it said.

"Shut up," I muttered, and set about getting ready for class.