Midnight In St. Pertsburg (The Invisible War 1) (31 page)

Rose reached over to turn off the hot water. The sudden blast of cold was so physically startling it locked her back into her own body. Rose held herself there, focused on the mundane tasks of drying herself, dressing herself, and refused to think about the vampire in the next room. She thought about the fact the jeans they brought her were a little big; the marble floor was cold beneath her bare feet; nothing about Nazeem.

Finally, they stopped.
 

Rose padded out into the hall and waited. It wasn’t long before Caroline emerged, cheeks flushed scarlet against an otherwise pallid complexion. She pulled Nazeem’s door shut, then jumped when she turned to see Rose. “Oh, Rose. Hi. Is there something else you need?”

“Not really. I was hoping we could talk.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Caroline hung back, hesitant. Not just hesitant: a little afraid. Of Rose. The girl who worshipped the vampires was afraid of Rose.

Rose gave her best reassuring smile. “Come on in.”
 

Unwilling to argue, Caroline followed. As she settled on the edge of a plushy divan, Rose looked deep into the girl. Beneath her immediate agitation, Rose saw contentment. She saw happiness. Caroline was probably the least troubled person Rose had met since she’d come to St. Petersburg. “So you live here? In the palace?”
 

Caroline wouldn’t meet Rose’s eyes. “If you’re wanting information about the vampires, I don’t think I can give you that.”

“No, that’s not it. Not really.” Could the girl really be trying to protect them? “I’m more interested in you. You and the rest of the people who live here. Who—I’m not sure what to call it—feed the vampires?”

“We provide for them, yes. And they provide for us.”

Rose kept her smile broad, trying to disarm Caroline’s defensiveness. “It’s okay. Seriously. I’m not here to make accusations. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why you do it. Why you’re here.”

Caroline’s smile grew out from the core of her. “I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.”

“But you’re prisoners here. You’re food!”

“It’s not like that. You don’t understand.”

“So help me out. Tell me what it’s like. Why you’re here.”

Reassured that Rose’s interest was genuine, Caroline relaxed. She crossed her arms over the side of the divan and pulled her feet up. Rose had seen a similar dreamy expression on girls talking about their plans for prom night. “When I was sixteen, I ran away from home. My parents—they were awful—they didn’t understand me at all.”

In the hospitals and city shelters, Rose had seen plenty of endings to stories that began like that. None of them pretty.
 

“I came to Europe,” Caroline continued. “Hooked up with a bad crowd. Ended up alone in St. Petersburg with no money, no visa, and no way to get a job.

“I was begging on the streets, trying to dodge the cops, when Carter came along.” Caroline sighed. “He was everything I’d thought men would be like here. Handsome and polite, with manners, oh and that accent.”

Rose tried to imagine Caroline friendless and penniless on the streets of St. Petersburg and her smile wilted. How had this girl made it all the way over here without getting mugged or raped or freezing to death in an alley? No wonder she thought Wentworth was her shining savior.

“We’ve got a good deal here. I like the people here—they’re fun and interesting and we all pretty much get along. And the vampires are cool. They take good care of us.”

Caroline still hadn’t answered Rose’s question. “Are you allowed to leave? Do they force you to stay?”

“No!” Caroline was shocked at the question. “Of course not. I mean, they prefer that we don’t go anywhere on our own. They worry about us. But why would we want to go anywhere? I mean, look around. We’re living in a palace. And they bring us pretty much anything we want.”

“And in return, you let them drink your blood.”

Caroline’s pity brought a lump to Rose’s throat. “You don’t understand. That’s the best part.”

Caroline had no idea how well Rose could understand, how thorough a lesson Rose had gotten earlier. But that wasn’t what Rose wanted to talk about. “Don’t you want, I don’t know, something more from your life?”

“More? Like what? Maybe if I worked and slaved for
years
, I’d make enough money to live like this, but there’s no guarantee. The vampires, they take care of me. And they’ll need me forever.” She sat up straight again, arms crossed, defiant. “They won’t care when I get old and ugly. I’ll be just as important to them then. They’ll need me just as much.”

“Okay.” Rose had heard enough. “Well, thanks.”

On the inside, Caroline was all prickles and barbs. “I don’t need you judging me. Or them. We’re all happy here, just like we are.”

“I can see that.” Rose tried to keep her tone neutral, but something in it sent Caroline from the room in a huff.

Which was fine. Rose was done with her.
 

Nazeem opened his door between her second and third knock. He wore a fresh black turtleneck and jeans, neither of which looked right on him. His color had returned and the skin that had been cracked and blistered less than an hour ago was now smooth and flawless. Rose couldn’t resist reaching out to touch his hand, to feel its soft perfection. “That’s amazing.”

A spark of amusement. The now-familiar half smile. “Thank you.”

“You and Caroline,” Rose blurted out before she was sure what she wanted to say. She stopped, realized she was blushing, the memory of what she’d felt still strong.

“Would you like to come in?” Rose did, and Nazeem closed the door behind her, granting them privacy. He stood silent, patient, while Rose framed her thoughts.

“I spoke with Caroline. She explained things—probably more than she meant to. I think, maybe, I understand.”

Nazeem had tight control of himself. Rose had to work to pick up the flutter of concern. “And is it as terrible as you feared?”

For once, Rose thought hard about her answer before she gave it. “It’s not what I expected. And it’s nothing I could ever do. But the people here, they seem to like it. They’re not here under duress—I’d know it. And I could tell—” Rose looked down at the floor, felt her cheeks flush. “You should know, when Caroline was in here, I felt—I couldn’t help—when you two….”
 

It would have been easier to talk about if she’d just walked in on them having sex.
 

Did vampires have sex?

“I apologize that it was uncomfortable for you. Had I realized you would be so aware, I would have gone elsewhere in the palace.” If Nazeem was embarrassed, Rose couldn’t tell.

“So do you…like Caroline? People like Caroline?”

“No.” Rose could feel the honesty behind his answer. “I believe in this society, in vampires and mortals living like this, keeping each other safe. But I cannot find it in myself to like the sort of mortals who wish to live like this.”

Rose couldn’t deny the smug satisfaction she got hearing Nazeem say he didn’t like Caroline. “But you still—it felt so intimate. You’re forced to—”

Nazeem’s hand, light on her shoulder, silenced Rose. His fingers brushed under her chin, and she looked up. “Not forced. I choose to be what I am. No one compels me to continue day to day. If there are distasteful things I must do to get by, that makes my life no different from anyone else’s.”

“You have kind of a strange view of everyone else’s lives,” Rose whispered.
 

He traced his fingers down her neck, a tingling path along her skin. The heat of his hand made her shiver. Nazeem leaned down, brushed his lips against hers. “It’s late,” he murmured.
 

Even with his breath warm against her lips, Rose managed to feel annoyed at the implication of his words. “If I have to listen to you or Mike tell me one more time I need my sleep—“

Nazeem kissed her. His lips were soft against her own, gentle. His hand tightened on her shoulder as the other slid up her back, pulled her closer. Rose had no trouble recognizing the swirl of emotion within him, desire and affection and yes, even that wonderful laughter.
 

The moment was so perfect, and yet…

The “it’s late” nagged at Rose, worried the edges of her thoughts, pulled her out of the moment. She brought her hands up between them, pushed against his chest. He released her at once, took a step back. “Rose?”

His confusion—his hurt—those were clear as well. “No, don’t. Don’t be—” Rose lifted a hand to his cheek, but he caught her wrist—gently—and stood silent, waiting for her to explain.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that...” Rose tried to push down the negative thoughts, and might have managed if not for the concern bubbling up inside Nazeem. Which shouldn’t upset her. Except that it did. “I can’t do this.”

He was too much a gentleman to argue, and Rose felt him withdraw, felt him settle back into the mental quiet that made him hard to read. “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you need—”

“Exactly,” Rose cut him off. “
You’re
sure I need,
Mike
is sure I need—neither of you seem to believe I should be left to decide things for myself. You both treat me like a child, and I can’t—I can’t do this with you if you won’t see me as an equal.”

“We aren’t equals.” Nazeem said it matter-of-fact. “I’ve been trained for this. I have years of experience. As does Mike. You’re young, with a gift that does nothing to help you defend yourself, and with no exposure to the invisible war before you came here. I respect your courage, but you can’t expect either of us to act as though you were an equal.”

“You could act like I’m a teammate,” Rose said softly. Nazeem stood silent. Rose couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make this worse. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” he said, releasing her hand.

Rose retreated to her room, to her bed, but it was a very long time until she slept.

*
   
*
   
*

For the first time in a week, Rose slept outside the protective circles Ian had created around her bed. Once again, she found her dream-self in St. Isaac’s cathedral. Only this time, there was no creepy smoke, and no creepy Pyotr. This time, she was alone with the shining man.

His light was blinding, but it did nothing to drive away the shadows. Rose felt them pressing in around her, dark and heavy, trying to smother. The shining man watched, but made no threatening moves toward her.

“Who are you?” she asked. She should have been afraid—okay, she was afraid—but she felt no immediate threat from him.

“Little Rose,” he said, his voice filled with sadness, “you do not belong here.”

“I have as much right to be here as you.” Rose took a step closer, trying to see through his blinding visage.
 

He raised a hand and St. Isaac’s faded; they floated in a void. “You are in danger as long as you stay in this city.”

“Yeah, I know. By my count, you’ve tried to kill me twice now. Three times, if you count strangling me in our last dream together.”

He floated towards her. Rose stood her ground—as much as she could with no ground to stand on—and didn’t flinch away when he laid a hand on her arm. “You can’t understand my obligations. The burdens I bear, the decisions I must face. I wish you no harm, but I cannot have you standing between me and justice.”

He sounded genuinely concerned, genuinely kind. It made Rose shiver. She’d never met a grade-A psychopath before. “My friends and I—we’re going to stop you.”

“Your friends.” He reached up, stroked her hair back. “My poor dear girl. How you’ve been led astray.” His grip on her arm tightened. “But where are your friends? Where have you all run to?”

Rose tried to pull away but his grasping hand had the strength of steel. Around her, the void shifted. Shadows moved. Formed. Her room came into focus around them. “Oh my. You take sanctuary with the vampires.”

Rose was pretty sure he’d seen too much. She struggled, clawed at him, but other than the fingers that held her, he had no substance. Her hands passed through him.
 

“Do you know what they are? Do you know what they do?” His voice was a whisper in her ear.

“Of course I do. And I’ll take their friendship over your justice any day.”

“Little Rose.” His voice, the dream, was fading. “We shall see, my dear. We shall see. Come find me again in St. Isaac’s if you wish. Tonight.” Rose strained to hear the last words. “This ends tonight.”
 

Rose jerked awake, her heart racing. She had no idea what time it was, but she didn’t dare try to go back to sleep. Not when the shining man could find her just like that. She’d already told him enough.
 

She dressed and wandered out into the hall. She didn’t want to wake Ian or Mike; she wasn’t ready to face Nazeem again. She picked a random direction, wondering how much freedom the vampires would give her.

As she wandered through the elegant rooms she was starting to accept as commonplace, she passed by other human inhabitants. Like Caroline, they all seemed content, happy. Happier than Rose had ever felt in any place she’d called home. What a crazy world.

She felt Wentworth’s presence, over in a shadowy alcove, and thus didn’t jump when he spoke. “A restless night?”

She considered ignoring him, just walking on by, but that wouldn’t do anything for future relations. Besides, it looked like she had a long night ahead of her. “It’s so hard to sleep well without my teddy bear and holy water.”

He didn’t laugh—didn’t even smile—but Rose felt his amusement roll over her. The nook he sat in was just large enough for two chairs with a small round table between them. With nothing better to do, Rose took the empty chair.

“You made an excellent impression on Anastasia tonight. I do believe she’s decided she likes you.”

“Until we wear the wrong shade of blue or something and piss her off again.”

Wentworth shrugged. “I won’t deny she can be unpredictable. All I can do is encourage you to take advantage of her good will while you have it.”

So many questions Rose could have asked, if she only trusted Wentworth. So many things she wanted to know—about Anastasia, about Wentworth, about the vampires.