Apparently, someone had forgotten to send him a memo. Clearly, he and Alberta were no longer best friends—at least, that's the impression she was giving him. Her displeasure was obvious when he walked into his office—if looks could kill, hers would be more deadly than a hungry strigoi. He gave her a slow, seductive smile.
"Lord Ivashkov," she said, her voice so frosty that it gave him chills, "what do you need?"
He gave her a sly smile. "Maybe I just wanted to see your lovely smile, Alberta."
One pale eyebrow shot sky high. "I don't have time for this. Get to the point."
"You should always make time for handsome men, Alberta." He sank down in a chair, ignoring her sigh of displeasure. "Especially one that so enjoys your company."
"If this is about Guardian Belikov…" She trailed off, staring at him pointedly.
"Why would you assume that? I haven't seen the cradle robber all day."
She tried to choke back a laugh, failing miserably. "Adrian!"
"Hah! See, you do love me Allie. Can I call you Allie?"
"Absolutely not." She sat back in her chair, studying him intently. "You didn't come in here just to flirt with an old woman, so get to the point—I really am busy."
"I don't see any old women in here—you're mature… ripe… You're in your prime, you know."
"Adrian…" She tried to sound stern, but her twitching lips betrayed her.
He slouched down in the uncomfortable chair, deciding he'd pushed his luck far enough. "Can I have a fax sent here?" He gestured to the machine in the corner.
Alberta looked befuddled. "Why not just have it sent to the front office?"
"It's private. I don't trust Kirova. You on the other hand… I know for a fact that you, my darling Alberta, can keep a secret." He threw her a winning smile, hoping she'd agree.
She sighed again, scribbling something down on a slip of paper. "This better not be some kind of joke."
He took the paper from her outstretched hand, in turn, handing her a small white card. "If you call me when it comes across, I'll swing back by to pick it up. My cell number is on the back. I'll be in my room waiting."
"Fine. Now get out of here."
He paused in the doorway. "Thanks… Allie. I owe you one."
He left before she could throw something at him.
As soon as he got back to his room, he poured himself a drink. He'd placed a call to court, calling in a debt from Lucian Szelsky—the man considered by most everyone to be the foremost authority on Moroi saints. Since the debt in question had involved a poker game and a rather substantial loss on Lucian's part, the man was more than willing to send the information Adrian requested in lieu of payment.
Walking over to the small desk, he pulled out the stack of photocopied pages that Lissa had given him—duplicates of every single pages from her 'spirit' notebook. In a rare burst of efficiency, he carefully marked the passages that interested him, collapsing on the couch to commit them to memory.
On paper, each item seemed easy enough—almost impossibly simple. He'd already discovered that every aura was unique and individual, like a fingerprint. Each one… felt different. Flowed different—the way the colors reflected and changed varied between each individual. Likewise he'd also determined—again, something learned on his own—that once he had studied someone's aura intently, he could pick them out of a crowd almost instantly. Sometimes he could sense when someone was approaching him—his brain would alert him of an approaching familiar aura. Those things were the basic principles of aura targeting. It was, in essence, a spirit driven GPS. According to the notes, one simply had to concentrate and visualize the aura of the individual you wanted to trace.
He let his head fall back, relaxing into the couch as he thought about Rose's aura. He pictured each and every nuance of its natural colors, even including the darkness she'd recently absorbed. He frowned, coming up blank. Rather than feel discouraged, he decided Rose might not be so easy to trace, since she was bound to a spirit user. Switching subjects, his lip curled as he concentrated on the Russian. Almost instantly, an answer appeared in his head, a weird mixture of image, emotion and… something else… something he had no name for.
His eyes shot open. Holy fuck. It couldn't be that easy, could it? He shot to his feet, hurrying out the door and across the dark grounds, all the while concentrating on the man in question. He kept getting the same response.
The track.
Sure enough, once he got close enough, he could see a lone figure running laps. From the gargantuan height it was either Belikov or the Jolly Green Giant. Adrian's lips curled up in a pleased smile as he made his way back to his room. One forbidden talent learned, three more to go.
Alberta was standing outside his door, an irritated expression on her face. "You said you'd be in your room."
"I also said to call me." He held up his phone. "It was unlocked; you could have gone in."
She shot him a look, holding up the envelope. "This is about the Princess and Rose, isn't it?"
He motioned her towards the couch, heading for the kitchenette. "Why would you think that? Saint Vladimir was a spirit user, just like me. Maybe I'm trying to understand more about my element."
When he entered the room, he frowned. She was still standing in the doorway. "Don't you want a drink?"
"I'm still on duty, Ivashkov."
"Adrian," he corrected her. "I won't tell on you, Alberta."
She ran a hand through her short hair, glancing at her watch. "Hell, I've only got twenty minutes left." She crossed to the couch, propping her feet on the highly polished coffee table. "Vodka again?"
He smirked, setting the tray he'd been carrying down in front of her. "Tequila."
She looked at the tray, taking in the salt shaker, limes and bottle. "Glasses?"
His lip twitched. "Body shots."