The more she thought about it, the more she felt her temper spike, anger and frustration flaring up in a way more common to me than her. It made her want to scream sometimes, to walk right up to Tatiana and tell her their deal was off. No college was worth this. Maybe she’d even tell Tatiana that it was time for a revolution, time to overturn the Moroi’s backward—
Lissa blinked, astonished to find she was shaking. Where had that emotion come from? It was one thing to be upset with Tatiana, but this . . . ? She hadn’t had such out-of-control rages since she first began using spirit. With a deep breath, she tried to use some of the calming techniques she’d acquired so that Avery wouldn’t know what a nutcase she’d nearly turned into.
“I just hate people talking about me, that’s all,” Lissa said at last.
Avery hadn’t seemed to notice Lissa’s lapse into anger. “Well, if it makes you feel better, not everyone thinks that about you. I met a girl . . . Mia? Yeah, that was her name. Some non-royal.” Avery’s dismissive tone suggested she held the view a lot of royals had toward “common” Moroi. “She just laughed about you and Adrian being together. Said it was ridiculous.”
Lissa almost smiled at that. Mia had once been Lissa’s rival and a self-centered brat. But after Strigoi killed her mother, Mia had taken on a fierce, determined attitude, one both Lissa and I liked immensely. Mia lived at Court with her father, secretly training to fight so that she would be able to battle Strigoi some day.
“Oh,” said Avery suddenly. “There’s Simon. I should go.”
Lissa looked across the hall and saw Avery’s stern guardian. Simon might not be as grim as Avery’s brother Reed, but he still had that same stiff and dour look he’d had when Lissa first met him. Avery seemed to get along with him fine, though.
“Okay,” said Lissa. “I’ll see you later.”
“You bet,” said Avery, starting to turn.
“Oh, and Avery?”
Avery glanced at Lissa. “Yeah?”
“Adrian
is
available.”
Avery’s only answer was a quick grin before she headed off to join Simon.
Back with the Belikovs in Baia, the memorial service was going forward. Neighbors and friends, all dhampirs, slowly arrived, many bringing food. It was my first glimpse of the dhampir community, though it still didn’t seem as mysterious as Sydney had implied. The kitchen turned into a banquet hall, with every counter and table surface covered in dishes. Some were foods I knew, and there were lots of desserts—cookies and pastries covered in nuts and icing that smelled freshly baked. Some of the dishes I’d never seen before and wasn’t sure I wanted to ever again. There was a slimy bowl of cabbage in particular that I went out of my way to avoid.
But before we ate, everyone went outside and gathered in a semicircle in the backyard. It was the only place that could acco modate so many people. A priest appeared just then, a human one. That surprised me a little, but I supposed when living in a human town, dhampirs would attend a human church. And to most humans, dhampirs looked just like them, so the priest no doubt thought he was making an ordinary house call. A handful of Moroi who had been in town were also present, but they, too, could more or less pass for humans—pale ones—if they were discreet with the fangs. Humans didn’t expect to see the supernatural, so their minds rarely considered it an option, even when it was right in front of them.
Everyone grew silent. It was sunset now, with orange fire burning in the western sky, and shadows falling across all of us. The priest performed a funeral service in Russian, chanting in a voice that sounded unearthly in the darkening yard.
All the church services I’d ever attended were in English, but I could see how this had the same feel. Every so often, those gathered would cross themselves. I didn’t know the cues, so I simply watched and waited, letting the priest’s mournful voice fill my soul. My feelings for Dimitri churned within me like a growing storm, and I worked to keep them in, locked up in my heart. When the service finally finished, the eerie tension that had engulfed the group dispersed. People moved again, hugging the Belikovs and shaking hands with the priest. He left shortly thereafter.
Food followed. Plates were loaded up, and everyone sat wherever they could find space, be it inside the house or in the backyard. None of the guests really knew me, and Dimitri’s family was far too busy to pay much attention to me as they ran around and tried to make everyone feel welcome. Sydney stayed with me a lot of the time, and while conversation was light between us, I took comfort in her presence. We sat on the living room floor, leaning against the wall near the bookcase. She picked over her food, like always, which made me smile. There was something soothing about that familiar habit.
When dinner was over, people continued chatting in small groups. I couldn’t understand any of it, but I kept hearing his name mentioned:
Dimitri, Dimitri
. It reminded me of the incomprehensible hissing that the ghosts made during their visits. It was oppressive and smothering, the force of his name pressing on my heart.
Dimitri, Dimitri.
After a while, it grew to be too much. Sydney had stepped away for a bit, so I went outside to get some air. Some people had built a bonfire in the back and were sitting around it, still talking about Dimitri, so I headed off toward the front yard.
I walked down the street, not intending to go far. The night was warm and clear, with the moon and stars burning brightly in the blackness above me. My feelings were tangled up, and now that I was away from the others, I allowed a bit of that pent-up emotion to burst forth, coming out as silent tears on my cheeks. When I was a couple of houses away, I sat down on the curb, resting and enjoying the stillness around me. My peace was short-lived, however—my sharp ears picked up the sound of voices coming from the Belikov house. Three figures appeared. One, tall and slim, was Moroi, and the others were dhampirs. I stared as they came to a stop in front of me. Not bothering with formalities, I remained where I was, looking up into the Moroi’s dark eyes. I didn’t recognize this group from the service—but I did recognize the Moroi from somewhere else. I gave him a wry half-smile.
“Abe Mazur, I presume.”
NINE
“I
THOUGHT YOU WERE A DREAM,” I SAID.
They all remained standing, the dhampirs fanning out around the Moroi in a sort of protective formation. Abe’s was the strange face I’d seen while I’d been going in and out of consciousness after the fight by the barn. He was older than me, close to Olena’s age. He had black hair and a goatee, and about as tan a complexion as Moroi ever had. If you’ve ever seen tan or dark-skinned people who are sick and grow pale, it’s a lot like that. There was some pigment in his skin, but it was underscored by an intense pallor. Most astonishing of all was his clothing. He wore a long dark coat that screamed money, paired with a cashmere crimson scarf. Below it, I could see a bit of gold, a chain to match the gold hoop earring he wore in one of his ears. My initial impression of that flamboyance would have been pirate or pimp. A moment later, I changed my mind. Something about him said he was the kind of guy who broke kneecaps to get his way.
“Dream, eh? That,” the Moroi said, with the very slightest hint of a smile, “is not something I hear very often. Well, no.” He reconsidered. “I do occasionally show up in people’s nightmares.” He was neither American nor Russian; I couldn’t identify the accent.
Was he trying to impress me or intimidate me with his big, bad reputation? Sydney hadn’t been afraid of him, exactly, but she’d certainly possessed a healthy amount of wariness.
“Well, I assume you already know who I am,” I said. “So, the question now is, what are you doing here?”
“No,” he said, the smile turning harder. “The question is, what are
you
doing here?”
I gestured back to the house, trying to play it cool. “I’m going to a funeral.”
“That’s not why you came to Russia.”
“I came to Russia to tell the Belikovs that Dimitri was dead, seeing as no one else bothered to.” That was turning into a handy explanation for me being here, but as Abe studied me, a chill ran down my spine, kind of like when Yeva looked at me. Like that crazy old woman, he didn’t believe me, and again I felt the dangerous edge to his otherwise jovial personality.
Abe shook his head, and now the smile was gone altogether. “That’s not the reason either. Don’t lie to me, little girl.”
I felt my hackles going up. “And don’t interrogate me, old man. Not unless you’re ready to tell me why you and your sidekicks risked driving that road to pick up Sydney and me.” Abe’s dhampirs stiffened at the words
old man
, but to my surprise, he actually smiled again—though the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Maybe I was just helping out.”
“Not from what I hear. You’re the one who had the Alchemists send Sydney with me here.”
“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Did she tell you that? Mmm . . . that was bad behavior on her part. Her superiors aren’t going to like that. Not at all.”
Oh, damn. I’d spoken without thinking. I didn’t want Sydney to get in trouble. If Abe really was some kind of Moroi Godfather type—what had she called him?
Zmey?
The snake?—I didn’t doubt he could talk to other Alchemists to make her life even more miserable.
“I forced it out of her,” I lied. “I . . . I threatened her on the train. It wasn’t hard. She’s already scared to death of me.”
“I don’t doubt she is. They’re all scared of us, bound by centuries of tradition and hiding behind their crosses to protect them—despite the gifts they get from their tattoos. In a lot of ways, they get the same traits as you dhampirs—just no reproductive issues.” He gazed up at the stars as he spoke, like some sort of philosopher musing on the mysteries of the universe. Somehow, that made me angrier. He was treating this like a joke, when clearly he had some agenda regarding me. I didn’t like being part of anyone’s plans—particularly when I didn’t know what those plans were.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure we could talk about the Alchemists and how you control them all night,” I snapped. “But I still want to know what you want with me.”
“Nothing,” he said simply.
“Nothing? You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to set me up with Sydney and follow me here for nothing.”
He looked back down from the sky, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You’re of no interest to me. I have my own business to run. I come on behalf of
others
who are interested in you.”
I stiffened, and at last, true fear ran through me. Shit. There
was
a manhunt out for me. But who? Lissa? Adrian? Tatiana? Again, that last one made me nervous. The others would seek me out because they cared. But Tatiana . . . Tatiana feared I’d run off with Adrian. Once more I thought that if she wanted me found, it might be because she wanted to ensure I didn’t come back. Abe struck me as the kind of person who could make people disappear.
“And what do the others want? Do they want me home?” I asked, trying to appear unafraid. “Did you think you could just come here and drag me back to the U.S.?”
That secretive smile of Abe’s returned. “Do
you
think I could just drag you back?”
“Well,” I scoffed, again without thinking, “
you
couldn’t. Your guys here could. Well, maybe. I might be able to take them.”
Abe laughed out loud for the first time, a rich, deep sound filled with sincere amusement. “You live up to your brash reputation. Delightful.” Great. Abe probably had a whole file on me somewhere. He probably knew what I liked for breakfast. “I’ll make a trade with you. Tell me why you’re here, and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”
“I already told you.”
In a flash, the laughter was gone. He took a step closer to where I sat, and I saw his guardians tense. “And I told you not to lie to me. You’ve got a reason for being here. I need to know what it is.”
“Rose? Can you come in here?”
Back toward the Belikov house, Viktoria’s clear voice rang out in the night. Glancing behind me, I saw her standing in the doorway. Suddenly, I wanted to get away from Abe. There was something lethal underneath that gaudy, jovial façade, and I didn’t want to spend another minute with him. Leaping up, I began backing toward the house, half-expecting his guardians to come kidnap me, despite his words. The two guys stayed where they were, but their eyes watched me carefully. Abe’s quirky smile returned to his face.
“Sorry I can’t stay and chat,” I said.
“That’s all right,” he said grandly. “We’ll find time later.”
“Not likely,” I said. He laughed, and I hastily followed Viktoria into the house, not feeling safe until I shut the door. “I do
not
like that guy.”
“Abe?” she asked. “I thought he was your friend.”
“Hardly. He’s some kind of mobster, right?”
“I suppose,” she said, like it was no big deal. “But he’s the reason you’re here.”
“Yeah, I know about him coming to get us.”
Viktoria shook her head. “No, I mean
here
. I guess while you were in the car, you kept saying, ‘Belikov, Belikov.’ Abe figured you knew us. That’s why he took you to our house.”
That was startling. I’d been dreaming of Dimitri, so of course I would have said his last name. But I’d had no idea that was how I’d ended up here. I’d figured it was because Olena had medical training.
Then Viktoria added the most astonishing thing of all. “When he realized we didn’t know you, he was going to take you somewhere else—but grandmother said we had to keep you. I guess she’d had some dream that you’d come to us.”
“What?” Crazy, creepy Yeva who hated me? “Yeva dreamed about me?”
Viktoria nodded. “It’s this gift she has. Are you sure you don’t know Abe? He’s too big-time to be here without a reason.”
Olena hurried over to us before I could respond. She caught hold of my arm. “We’ve been looking for you. What took so long?” This question was directed to Viktoria.