“What’s it do? I mean, what kind of healing?”
“It’ll help with your moods. It can’t get rid of them, but it’ll lessen them—help you think more clearly. Might keep you out of trouble. Oksana makes these for me to help between healings.” I started to slip it on, but he shook his head. “Save it for when you really feel out of control. The magic won’t last forever. It fades just like any other charm.”
I stared at the ring, my mind suddenly open to all sorts of new possibilities. A few moments later, I slipped it into my coat pocket.
Paul stuck his head out the back door.
“Grandmother wants to leave now,” he told me. “She wants to know why you’re taking so long and said to ask why you’d make someone as old as her keep waiting and suffering with her back.”
I recalled how fast Yeva had been walking while I struggled to keep up with my load. Her back hadn’t seemed all that bad to me, but again, I remembered that Paul was only the messenger and spared him my commentary.
“Okay. I’ll be right there.” When he was gone, I shook my head. “It’s hard being worthy.” I moved toward the door, then gave Mark a backward glance, as a random thought occurred to me. “You’re telling me that going off on your own is bad . . . but you aren’t a guardian either.”
He smiled at me again, one of those sad, wry smiles. “I used to be. Then Oksana saved my life. We bonded and eventually fell in love. I couldn’t stand to be separated from her after that, and the guardians would have assigned me elsewhere. I had to go.”
“Was it hard to leave them?”
“Very. Our age difference made it even more scandalous.” A strange chill ran through me. Mark and Oksana were the embodiment of the two halves of my life. They fought against a shadow-kissed bond as Lissa and I did and also faced the same condemnation for their relationship that Dimitri and I had. Mark continued, “But sometimes, we have to listen to our hearts. And even though I left, I’m not out there recklessly going after Strigoi. I’m an old man living with the woman he loves and tending his garden. There’s a difference—don’t forget that.”
My mind was reeling when I returned to the Belikov house. Without the bricks, the walk back had been a lot easier. It had given me a chance to ponder Mark’s words. I felt like I’d received a lifetime of information in a one-hour conversation.
Olena was going about the house, doing her normal tasks of cooking and cleaning. While I would personally never want to spend my days doing those sorts of domestic duties, I had to admit there was something comforting about always having someone who was around, ready to cook and worry about me on a daily basis. I knew it was a purely selfish desire, just as I knew my own mom was doing important things with her life. I shouldn’t judge her. Still, it made me feel warm and cared for to have Olena treat me like a daughter when she hardly knew me.
“Are you hungry?” she asked automatically. I think one of the greatest fears in her life was that someone might go hungry in her home. Sydney’s perpetual lack of appetite had been a nonstop worry for Olena.
I hid a smile. “No, we ate at Mark and Oksana’s.”
“Ah, that’s where you were? They’re good people.”
“Where is everyone?” I asked. The house was unusually quiet.
“Sonya and Karolina are at work. Viktoria’s out at a friend’s, but she’ll be glad you’re back.”
“What about Sydney?”
“She left a little while ago. She said she was going back to Saint Petersburg.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Left for good? Just like that?” Sydney had a blunt nature, but this was abrupt even for her.
“The Alchemists . . . well, they’re always on the move.” Olena handed me a piece of paper. “She left this for you.”
I took the note and immediately opened it. Sydney’s handwriting was neat and precise. Somehow this didn’t surprise me.
Rose,
I’m sorry I had to leave so quickly, but when the Alchemists tell me to jump . . . well, I jump. I’ve hitched a ride back to that farm town we stayed in so that I can pick up the Red Hurricane, and then I’m off to Saint Petersburg. Apparently, now that you’ve been delivered to Baia, they don’t need me to stick around anymore.
I wish I could tell you more about Abe and what he wants from you. Even if I was allowed to, there isn’t much to say. In some ways, he’s as much a mystery to me as he is to you. Like I said, a lot of the business he deals in is illegal—both among humans and Moroi. The only time he gets directly involved with people is when something relates to that business—or if it’s a very, very special case. I think you’re one of those cases, and even if he doesn’t intend you harm, he might want to use you for his own purposes. It could be as simple as him wanting to contract you as a bodyguard, seeing as you’re rogue. Maybe he wants to use you to get to others. Maybe this is all part of someone else’s plan, someone who’s even more mysterious than him. Maybe he’s doing someone a favor. Zmey can be dangerous or kind, all depending on what he needs to accomplish.
I never thought I’d care enough to say this to a dhampir, but be careful. I don’t know what your plans are now, but I have a feeling trouble follows you around. Call me if there’s anything I can help with, but if you go back to the big cities to hunt Strigoi, don’t leave any more bodies unattended!
All the best,
Sydney
P.S. “The Red Hurricane” is what I named the car.
P.P.S. Just because I like you, it doesn’t mean I still don’t think you’re an evil creature of the night. You are.
Her cell phone number was added at the bottom, and I couldn’t help but smile. Since we’d ridden to Baia with Abe and his guardians, Sydney had had to leave the car behind, which had traumatized her almost as much as the Strigoi. I hoped the Alchemists would let her keep it. I shook my head, amused in spite of her warnings about Abe. The Red Hurricane.
As I headed upstairs to my room, my smile faded. Despite her abrasive attitude, I was going to miss Sydney. She might not exactly be a friend—or was she?—but in this brief time, I’d come to regard her as a constant in my life. I didn’t have many of those left anymore. I felt adrift, unsure what to do now. I’d come here to bring peace to Dimitri and had only ended up bringing grief to his family. And if what everyone said was true, I wasn’t going to find many Strigoi here in Baia. Somehow, I couldn’t picture Dimitri, wandering the road and farms for the occasional prey. Even as a Strigoi—and it killed me to think those words—Dimitri would have a purpose. If he wasn’t returning to the familiar sights of his hometown, then he would be doing something else meaningful—inasmuch as a Strigoi could. Sydney’s comment in the note had verified what I kept hearing over and over: Strigoi were in the cities. But which one? Where would Dimitri go?
Now
I
was the one without a purpose. On top of it all, I couldn’t help but replay Mark’s words. Was I really on an insane vigilante mission? Was I foolishly rushing to my death? Or was I foolishly rushing into . . . nothing? Was I doomed to spend the rest of my days wandering? Alone?
Sitting on my bed, I felt my mood plummet and knew I had to distract myself. I was too susceptible to dark emotions as long as Lissa used spirit; I didn’t need to further encourage them. I slipped on the ring that Mark had given me, hoping it would bring some sort of clarity and tranquility. I felt no noticeable difference, though, and decided to seek peace from that same place I always did: Lissa’s mind.
She was with Adrian, and the two were practicing spirit again. After some initial bumps in the road, Adrian was proving a quick study at healing. That had been the first of Lissa’s powers to manifest, and it always irked her that he made more progress on what she had to teach him than vice versa.
“I’m running out of things for you to heal,” she said, setting some tiny potted plants onto a table. “Unless we start cutting off limbs or something.”
Adrian smiled. “I used to tease Rose about that, how I was going to impress her by healing amputees or something equally absurd.”
“Oh, and I’m sure she had a smartass response for you each time.”
“Yes, yes, she did.” His face was fond as he recalled the memory. There was a part of me that was always insanely curious to hear them talk about me . . . yet at the same time, I always felt bad at the grief my name seemed to invoke.
Lissa groaned and stretched out on the carpeted floor. They were in a dorm lounge, and curfew was swiftly approaching. “I want to talk to her, Adrian.”
“You can’t,” he said. There was an unusual seriousness in his voice. “I know she still checks in on you—that’s the closest you’ll get to talking to her. And honestly? That’s not so bad. You can tell her exactly how you feel.”
“Yeah, but I want to hear her talk back like you do in your dreams.”
This made him smile again. “She does plenty of talking back, believe me.”
Lissa sat up straight. “Do it now.”
“Do what now?”
“Go visit her dreams. You always try to explain it to me, but I’ve never actually seen it. Let me watch.”
He stared, at a loss for words. “That’s kind of voyeuristic.”
“Adrian! I want to learn this, and we’ve tried everything else. I can feel the magic around you sometimes. Just do it, okay?”
He started to protest again but then bit off his comment after studying her face for a moment. Her words had been sharp and demanding—very uncharacteristic for her. “Okay. I’ll try.”
The whole idea of Adrian trying to get into my head while I was watching him through Lissa’s head was surreal, to say the least. I didn’t quite know what to expect from him. I’d always wondered if he had to be asleep or at least have his eyes closed. Apparently not. He instead stared off at nothing, his eyes going vacant as his mind left the world around him. Through Lissa’s eyes, I could see some of the magic radiating off him and his aura, and she tried to analyze each strand. Then, without warning, all the magic faded. He blinked and shook his head.
“Sorry. I can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“Proobably because she’s awake. Did you learn anything by watching?”
“A little. Probably would’ve been more useful if you’d actually made the connection.” Again, Lissa had that petulant tone.
“She could be anywhere in the world, you know, on any schedule.” His words were smothered by a yawn. “Maybe we can try at different times of the day. I’ve been getting her . . . actually, close to this time. Or sometimes I catch her really early in the day.”
“She could be closeby then,” said Lissa.
“Or on a human daylight schedule in some other part of the world.”
Her enthusiasm dropped. “Right. That too.”
“How come you guys never look like you’re working?”
Christian strolled into the room, looking amused at Lissa sitting on the floor and Adrian sprawling on the couch. Standing behind Christian was someone I hadn’t thought I’d see anytime soon. Adrian, who could detect women a mile away, also immediately noticed the newcomer.
“Where’d you get the jailbait?” he asked.
Christian shot Adrian a warning look. “This is Jill.” Jill Mastrano allowed herself to be nudged forward, her light green eyes impossibly wide as she looked around. “Jill, this is Lissa and Adrian.”
Jill was one of the last people I’d expected to see here. I’d met her a little over a month ago. She was in ninth grade, which meant she’d be here on the upper campus in the fall. She had the same super-slim build that most Moroi had, but it was paired with height that was impressive even by vampiric standards. It made her look rail-thin. Her hair fell in light brown curls to the middle of her back and would be beautiful—when she learned how to style it properly. For now, it was kind of messy, and her overall impression—while cute—was kind of awkward.
“H-hi,” she said, looking from face to face. As far as she was concerned, these were Moroi gold star celebrities. She’d nearly passed out when she first met me and Dimitri, thanks to our reputations. From her expression, she was in a similar state now.
“Jill wants to learn how to use her power for good instead of evil,” said Christian with an exaggerated wink. That was his coy way of saying Jill wanted to learn how to fight with her magic. She’d expressed the interest to me, and I’d told her to find Christian. I was glad she’d had the courage to take me up on my advice. Christian was a campus celebrity too, albeit an infamous one.
“Another recruit?” asked Lissa, shaking her head. “Think you’ll keep this one around?”
Jill gave Christian a startled look. “What’s that mean?”
“After the attack, lots of people said they wanted to learn to fight with magic,” Christian explained. “So they found me, and we worked together . . . once or twice. Then everyone faded away once it got hard, and they realized they had to keep practicing.”
“It doesn’t help that you’re a mean teacher,” pointed out Lissa.
“And so now you’ve got to recruit among children,” said Adrian solemnly.
“Hey,” said Jill indignantly. “I’m fourteen.” Immediately, she flushed at having spoken so boldly to him. He found it amusing, as he did so many other things.
“My mistake,” he said. “What’s your element?”
“Water.”
“Fire and water, huh?” Adrian reached into his pocket and pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill. He snapped it out straight. “Sweetheart, I’ll make you a deal. If you can make a bucket of water appear and dump over Christian’s head, I’ll give you this.”
“I’ll add in ten,” laughed Lissa.
Jill looked stunned, but I suspected it was because Adrian had called her “sweetheart.” I took Adrian for granted so often that it was easy to forget he really was a hot guy. Christian pushed Jill toward the door.
“Ignore them. They’re just jealous because spirit users can’t go charging into battle like we can.” He knelt down to Lissa’s height on the floor and gave her a quick kiss. “We were practicing in the lounge upstairs, but I’ve got to walk her back now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”