Shadow Kiss (27 page)

"You know, you can always be our far-far guard and stay behind with that thing," I told him.

"Mm, I've had enough." He dropped the cigarette and stamped it out, leaving it behind. I hated that almost as much as him smoking in the first place.

"What do you think, little dhampir?" he asked. "I was pretty badass with that plant, wasn't I? Of course, it would have been more badass if I'd, I dunno, helped an amputee grow a limb back. Or maybe separated Siamese twins. But that'll come with more practice."

"If you want some advice—which I'm sure you don't— you guys should lay off on the magic.

Christian still thinks you're moving in on Lissa."

"What?" he asked in mock astonishment. "Doesn't he know my heart belongs to you?"

"It does not. And no, he's still worried about it, despite what I've told him."

"You know, I bet if we started making out right now, it would make him feel better."

"If you touch me," I said pleasantly, "I'll provide you with the opportunity to see if you can heal yourself. Then we'd see how badass you really are."

"I'd get Lissa to heal me," he said smugly. "It'd be easy for her. Although…" The sardonic smirk faded. "Something weird happened when she used her magic."

"Yeah," I said. "I know. Could you sense it too?"

"No. But I
saw
it." He frowned. "Rose … remember when you asked about being crazy and I said you weren't?"

"Yeah…"

"I think I might have been wrong. I think you are crazy."

I nearly stopped walking. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Well…you see, the thing is, when Lissa did the second plant… her aura dimmed a little."

"That would go along with what I felt," I said. "It was kind of like she … I don't know, grew mentally fragile for a moment, kind of like she used to. But it went away."

He nodded. "Yeah, that's the thing…the darkness in her aura went away and into yours. Like, I've noticed before that you guys have a big difference in auras, but this time, I
saw
it happening. It was like that spot of darkness jumped out of hers and into yours."

Something about that made me shiver. "What does it mean?"

"Well, this is why I think you're crazy. Lissa isn't having any side effects from the magic anymore, right? And you, well… you've been feeling kind of short-tempered lately and you're, like, seeing ghosts." He said the words casually, like seeing ghosts was just something that happened from time to time. "I think whatever harmful thing there is in spirit that screws with the mind is leaking out of her and into you. It's making her stay stable, and you, well… as I said, you're seeing ghosts."

It was like being smacked in the face. A new theory. Not trauma. Not real ghosts. Me

"catching" Lissa's madness. I remembered how she'd been at her worst, depressed and self-destructive. I remembered our former teacher, Ms. Karp, who'd also been a spirit user—and completely out of her mind enough to become Strigoi.

"No," I said in a strained voice. "That's not happening to me."

"What about your bond? You have that connection. Her thoughts and feelings creep into you …

why not the madness too?" Adrian's manner was typically light and curious. He didn't realize just how much this was starting to freak me out.

"Because it doesn't make any—"

And then, it hit me. The answer we'd been searching for this whole time.

St. Vladimir had struggled his whole life with spirit's side effects. He'd had dreams and delusions, experiences he wrote off to "demons." But he hadn't gone completely crazy or tried to kill himself. Lissa and I had felt certain that it was because he had a shadow-kissed guardian, Anna, and that sharing that bond with her had helped him. We'd assumed it was simply the act of having such a close friend around, someone who could support him and talk him through the bad times since they hadn't had antidepressants or anti-anxiety drugs back then.

But what if… what if…

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't go another single moment without knowing the answer. What time was it anyway? An hour or so before curfew? I had to find out. I came to an abrupt halt, nearly slipping on the slick ground.

"Christian!"

The group in front of us stopped and looked back at me and Adrian. "Yeah?" Christian asked.

"I need to take a detour—or rather,
we
do since I can't go anywhere without you. We need to go to the church."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "What, you need to confess something?"

"Don't ask questions. Please. It'll only take a few minutes."

Concern crossed Lissa's face. "Well, we can all go—"

"No, we'll be fast." I didn't want her there. I didn't want her to hear the answer I was certain I'd get. "Go to the dorm. We'll catch up. Please, Christian?"

He studied me, expression oscillating between wanting to mock me and wanting to help. He wasn't a complete jerk, after all. The latter emotion won out. "Okay, but if you try to get me to pray with you, I walk."

He and I split off toward the chapel. I moved so fast that he had to scurry to keep up.

"I don't suppose you want to tell me what this is about?" he asked.

"Nope. I appreciate your cooperation, though."

"Always glad to help," he said. I was certain he was rolling his eyes, but I was more focused on the path ahead.

We reached the chapel, and the door was locked, unsurprisingly. I knocked on it, staring anxiously around to see if any lights shone through the windows. It didn't look like it.

"You know, I've broken in here before," said Christian. "If you need inside—"

"No, more than that. I need to see the priest. Damn it, he's not here."

"He's probably in bed."

"Damn it," I repeated, feeling only a little bad about swearing on a church's doorstep. If the priest was in bed, he'd be off in Moroi staff housing and inaccessible. "I need to—"

The door opened, and Father Andrew peered out at us. He looked surprised but not upset.

"Rose? Christian? Is something wrong?"

"I have to ask you a question," I told him. "It won't take long."

His surprise grew, but he stepped aside so we could enter. We all stopped and stood in the chapel's lobby, just outside the main sanctuary.

"I was just about to go home for the night," Father Andrew told us. "I was shutting everything down."

"You told me that St. Vladimir lived a long life and died of old age. Is that true?"

"Yes," he said slowly. "To the best of my knowledge. All the books I've read—including these latest ones—say as much."

"But what about Anna?" I demanded. I sounded like I was on the verge of hysteria. Which I kind of was.

"What about her?"

"What happened to her? How did she die?"

All this time. All this time, Lissa and I had worried about Vlad's outcome. We'd never considered Anna's.

"Ah, well." Father Andrew sighed. "Her end wasn't as good, I'm afraid. She spent her whole life protecting him, though there are hints that in her old age, she started growing a little unstable too. And then…"

"And then?" I asked. Christian was looking between the priest and me, completely lost.

"And then, well, a couple months after St. Vladimir passed on, she committed suicide."

I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second and then opened them. This was what I'd been afraid of.

"I'm sorry," Father Andrew said. "I
know how closely you've followed their story. I didn't even learn this about her until reading it recently. Taking one's life is a sin, of course…but, well, considering how close they were, it's not hard to imagine how she may have felt when he was gone."

"And you also said that she was starting to go a little crazy."

He nodded and spread his hands out. "It's hard to say what that poor woman was thinking.

Many factors were probably involved. Why was this so pressing?"

I shook my head. "It's a long story. Thanks for helping me."

Christian and I were halfway to the dorm before he finally asked, "What was that all about? I remember when you guys were looking into this. Vladimir and Anna were like Lissa and you, right?"

"Yeah," I said glumly. "Look, I don't want to get between you guys, but
please
don't tell Lissa about this. Not until I find out more. Just tell her … I don't know. I'll tell her that I suddenly panicked because I thought I had more community service scheduled."

"Both of us lying to her, huh?"

"I hate it, believe me. But it's also best for her at the moment."

Because if Lissa knew that she might potentially make me insane … yeah, she'd take that hard.

She'd want to stop working her magic. Of course, that was what I'd always wanted … and yet, I'd felt that joy in her when she used it. Could I take that away from her? Could I sacrifice myself?

There was no easy answer, and I couldn't start jumping to conclusions. Not until I knew more.

Christian agreed to keep it secret, and by the time we joined the others, it was almost time for curfew anyway. We had only about a half hour together, and then we all split off for bed—including me, since the part-time field experience agreement said I couldn't do nighttime duty.

The Strigoi risk was low in general anyway, and my instructors were more concerned about me getting a full night's sleep.

So when curfew came, I walked back to the dhampir dorm alone. And then, when I was almost there, he appeared again.

Mason.

I came to an abrupt halt and glanced around me, wishing someone else was there to witness this and settle the crazy-or-not thing once and for all. His pearly form stood there, hands in the pockets of his coat in an almost casual way that somehow made the experience that much weirder.

"Well," I said, feeling surprisingly calm, despite the sorrow that washed over me whenever I saw him. "Glad to see you're alone again. I didn't really like the extras on the plane."

He stared, expression blank and eyes sad. It made me feel worse, guilt twisting my stomach into knots. I broke.

"What are you?" I cried. "Are you real? Am I going crazy?"

To my surprise, he nodded.

"Which?" I squeaked. "Yes, you're real?"

He nodded.

"Yes, I'm crazy?"

He shook his head.

"Well," I said, forcing a joke through my hurricane of emotions. "That's a relief, but honestly, what else would you say if you're a hallucination?"

Mason just stared. I glanced around again, wishing someone would come by.

"Why are you here? Are you mad at us and looking for revenge?"

He shook his head, and something in me relaxed. Until that moment, I hadn't realized how worried I'd been about that. The guilt and grief had been wound up so tightly in me. Him blaming me—just as Ryan had—had seemed inevitable.

"Are you … are you having trouble finding peace?"

Mason nodded and seemed to grow sadder. I thought back to his final moments and swallowed back tears. I'd probably have a hard time finding peace too, taken from my life before it began.

"Is there more than that, though? Another reason you keep coming to me?"

He nodded.

"What?" I asked. There were too many questions lately. I needed answers. "What is it? What do I need to do?"

But anything other than a yes or no question was beyond us, apparently. He opened up his mouth as though he would say something. He looked like he was trying hard, like Adrian had with the plant. But no sound came out.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry I don't understand … and…I'm sorry for everything else."

Mason gave me one last wistful look and then vanished.

"LETS TALK ABOUT YOUR MOTHER."

I sighed. "What about her?"

It was my first day of counseling, and so far, I wasn't impressed. Last night's Mason sighting was probably something I should have brought up right away. But I didn't want school officials to have any more reason to think I was losing my mind—even if I was.

And honestly, I didn't know I was for sure. Adrian's analysis of my aura and the story of Anna certainly lent credence to me being on the road to Crazyville. Yet I didn't feel crazy. Did crazy people know if they really were? Adrian had said they didn't.
Crazy
itself was a weird term. I'd learned enough about psychology to know that it was also a very broad classification. Most forms of mental illness were actually very specific and had select symptoms—anxiety, depression, mood swings, etc. I didn't know where I fell on that scale, if I did at all.

"How do you feel about her?" continued the counselor. "About your mother?"

"That she's a great guardian and a so-so mother."

The counselor, whose name was Deirdre, wrote something in her notebook. She was blond and Moroi-slim, clad in a teal cashmere sweater dress. She actually didn't look much older than me, but certificates on her desk swore she had all sorts of degrees in psychotherapy. Her office was in the administrative building, the same place the headmistress's office was, and where all other sorts of Academy business was conducted. I'd kind of been hoping for a couch to lie on, like therapists always had on TV, but the best I had was a chair. It was a comfy chair, at least. The walls were covered in nature pictures, things like butterflies and daffodils. I guess they were supposed to be soothing.

"Do you want to elaborate on 'so-so'?" Deirdre asked.

"It's an upgrade. A month ago I would have said 'horrible.' What's this have to do with Mason?"

"Do you want to talk about Mason?"

I'd noticed she had a habit of answering my questions with questions.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess that's what I'm here for."

"How do you feel about him? About his death?"

"Sad. How else should I feel?"

"Angry?"

I thought about the Strigoi, their leering faces and casual attitudes toward killing. "Yeah, a little."

"Guilty?"

"Sure, of course."

"Why 'of course'?"

"Because it's my fault he was there. I'd upset him…and he had this thing to prove. I told him where the Strigoi were, and I wasn't supposed to. If he hadn't known about them, he wouldn't have done it. He'd still be alive."