My post was by a fire door that led outside of the school. Coincidentally, it was right by the station Christian was working at. The class normally cooked in pairs, but there was an odd number of students. Rather than work in a group of three, Christian had volunteered to be by himself. No one had seemed to mind. Many still regarded him and his family with the same prejudice that Jesse did. To my disappointment, Christian wasn’t making a cake.
“What is that?” I asked, watching him take out a bowl of some kind of raw, ground-up meat from the refrigerator.
“Meat,” he said, dumping it onto a cutting board.
“I know that, you idiot. What kind?”
“Ground beef.” He pulled another container out and then another. “And this is veal. And this is pork.”
“Do you have, like, a T. rex that you’re going to feed?”
“Only if you want some. This is for meatloaf.”
I stared. “With three kinds of meat?”
“Why eat something called meatloaf if you aren’t actually going to get some meat out of it?”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe this is only the first day with you.”
He glanced down, focusing on kneading his tri-meat creation together. “You sure are making a big deal out of this. Do you really hate me that much? I heard you were screaming at the top of your lungs back in the gym.”
“No, I wasn’t. And . . . I don’t hate you at all,” I admitted.
“You’re just taking it out on me because you didn’t get paired with Lissa.”
I didn’t answer. He wasn’t that far off.
“You know,” he continued, “it might actually be a good idea for you to practice with someone different.”
“I know. That’s what Dimitri says too.”
Christian put the meat into a bowl and started adding some other ingredients. “Then why question it? Belikov knows what he’s doing. I’d trust anything he says. It sucks that they’re going to lose him after we graduate, but I’d rather see him with Lissa.”
“Me too.”
He paused and looked up, meeting my eyes. We both smiled, amused at how shocked we were to have agreed with each other. A moment later, he returned to his work.
“You’re good too,” he said, not
too
grudgingly. “The way you handled yourself . . .”
He didn’t finish the thought, but I knew what he was talking about. Spokane. Christian hadn’t been around when I killed the Strigoi, but he’d been instrumental in helping with the escape. He and I had teamed up, using his fire magic as a means of letting me subdue our captors. We’d worked well together, all of our animosity put aside.
“I guess you and I have better things to do than fight all the time,” I mused. Like worry about Victor Dashkov’s trial, I realized. For a moment, I considered telling Christian what I’d learned. He’d been around the night it had all gone down with Victor last fall, but I decided not to mention the news just yet. Lissa needed to hear it first.
“Yup,” Christian said, unaware of my thoughts. “Brace yourself, but we aren’t that different. I mean, I’m smarter and a lot funnier, but at the end of the day, we both want to keep her safe.” He hesitated. “You know . . . I’m not going to take her away from you. I can’t. No one can, not as long as you guys have that bond.”
I was surprised he’d brought this up. I honestly suspected that there were two reasons he and I argued a lot. One was that we both had personalities that liked to argue. The other reason—the big one—was that we were each envious of the other's relationship with Lissa. But, as he’d said, we really had the same motives. We cared about her.
“And don’t think the bond will keep you guys apart,” I said. I knew the link bothered him. How could you ever get romantically close to someone when they had that kind of connection with another person, even if that other person was just a friend? “She cares about you. . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say “loves.” “She has a whole separate place for you in her heart.”
Christian put his dish in the oven. “You did
not
just say that. I have a feeling we’re on the verge of hugging and coming up with cute nicknames for each other.” He was trying to look disgusted at my sentiment, but I could tell he liked being told that Lissa cared about him.
“I already have a nickname for you, but I’ll get in trouble if I say it in class.”
“Ah,” he said happily. “
That’s
the Rose I know.”
He went off to talk to another friend while his meatloaf cooked, which was probably just as well. My door was a vulnerable position, and I shouldn’t have been chatting away, even if the rest of the class was. Across the room, I saw Jesse and Ralf working together. Like Christian, they’d chosen a blow-off class too.
No attacks occurred, but a guardian named Dustin did come in to make notes on us novices as we held our positions. He was standing near me right when Jesse chose to stroll by. At first, I thought it was a coincidence—until Jesse spoke.
“I take back what I said earlier, Rose. I figured it out. You aren’t upset because of Lissa or Christian. You’re upset because the rules say you have to be with a student, and Adrian Ivashkov’s too old. The way I hear it, you guys have already had a lot of practice watching each other's bodies.”
That joke could have been
so
much funnier, but I’d learned not to expect too much from Jesse. I knew for a fact that he didn’t care about Adrian and me. I also suspected he didn’t even believe we had anything going on. But Jesse was still bitter about me threatening him earlier, and here was his chance to get back at me. Dustin, standing within earshot, had no interest in Jesse’s idiotic teasing. Dustin would probably have an interest, however, if I slammed Jesse’s face into the wall.
That didn’t mean I had to be silent, though. Guardians talked to Moroi all the time; they just tended to be respectful and still keep an eye on their surroundings. So I gave Jesse a small smile and simply said, “Your wit is always such a delight, Mr. Zeklos. I can barely contain myself around it.” I then turned away and surveyed the rest of the room.
When Jesse realized I wasn’t going to do anything else, he laughed and walked away, apparently thinking he’d won some great victory. Dustin left shortly thereafter.
“Asshole,” muttered Christian, returning to his station. Class had about five minutes left.
My eyes followed Jesse across the room. “You know something, Christian? I’m pretty happy to be guarding you.”
“If you’re comparing me to Zeklos, I don’t really take that as much of a compliment. But here, try this. Then you’ll really be glad you’re with me.”
His masterpiece was finished, and he gave me a piece. I hadn’t realized it, but just before the meatloaf had gone in, he’d wrapped it in bacon.
“Good God,” I said. “This is the most stereotypical vampire food ever.”
“Only if it was raw. What do you think?”
“It’s good,” I said reluctantly. Who knew that bacon would make all the difference? “Really good. I think you have a promising future as a housewife while Lissa works and makes millions of dollars.”
“Funny, that’s exactly my dream.”
We left the class in lighter moods. Things had grown more friendly between us, and I decided that I could handle the next six weeks protecting him.
He and Lissa were going to meet in the library to study—or pretend to study—but he had to stop by his dorm first. So I followed him across the quad, back into the winter air that had grown chillier since sunset seven hours ago. The snow on the paths, which had turned slushy in the sun, had now frozen up and made walking treacherous. Along the way, we were joined by Brandon Lazar, a Moroi who lived in Christian’s hall. Brandon could barely contain himself, recapping a fight he’d witnessed in his math class. We listened to his rendition, all of us laughing at the thought of Alberta sneaking in through the window.
“Hey, she might be old, but she could take on almost any of us,” I told them. I gave Brandon a puzzled look. He had bruises and red splotches on his face. He also had a few weird welts near his ear. “What happened to you? Have you been fighting guardians too?”
His smile promptly disappeared, and he looked away from me. “Nah, just fell.”
“Come on,” I said. Moroi might not train to fight like dhampirs did, but they got in brawls with each other just as often as anyone else. I tried to think of any Moroi he might have a conflict with. For the most part, Brandon was pretty likeable. “That’s the lamest, most unoriginal excuse in the world.”
“It’s true,” he said, still avoiding my eyes.
“If someone’s screwing with you, I can give you a few pointers.”
He turned back to me, locking eyes. “Just let it go.” He wasn’t hostile or anything, but there was a firm note in his voice. It was almost like he believed saying the words alone would make me obey him.
I chuckled. “What are you trying to do? Compel me—”
Suddenly, I saw movement on my left. A slight shadow blending in with the dark shapes of a cluster of snowy pine trees—but moving just enough to catch my attention. Stan’s face emerged from the darkness as he sprang toward us.
Finally, my first test.
Adrenaline shot through me just as strongly as if a real Strigoi were approaching. I reacted instantly, reaching out to grab both Brandon and Christian. That was always the first move, to throw my own life before theirs. I jerked the two guys to a halt and turned toward my attacker, reaching for my stake in order to defend the Moroi—
And that’s when he appeared.
Mason.
He stood several feet in front of me, off to Stan’s right, looking just as he had last night. Translucent. Shimmering. Sad.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I froze, unable to move or finish going for my stake. I forgot about what I’d been doing and completely lost track of the people and commotion around me. The world slowed down, everything fading around me. There was only Mason—that ghostly, shimmering Mason who glowed in the dark and seemed like he so badly wanted to tell me something. The same feeling of helplessness I’d experienced in Spokane returned to me. I hadn’t been able to help him then. I couldn’t help him now. My stomach turned cold and hollow. I could do nothing except stand there, wondering what he was trying to say.
He lifted one translucent hand and pointed off toward the other side of campus, but I didn’t know what it meant. There was so much over there, and it wasn’t clear what he was pointing at. I shook my head, not understanding but desperately wishing I could. The sorrow on his face seemed to grow.
Suddenly, something slammed into my shoulder, and I stumbled forward. The world suddenly started up again, snapping me out of the dreamy state I’d just been in. I only barely managed to throw out my hands in time to stop myself from hitting the ground. I looked up and saw Stan standing over me.
“Hathaway!” he barked. “What are you doing?”
I blinked, still trying to shake off the weirdness of seeing Mason again. I felt sluggish and dazed. I looked into Stan’s angry face and then glanced over at where Mason had been. He was gone. I turned my attention back to Stan and realized what had happened. In my distraction, I’d completely spaced while he’d staged his attack. He now had one arm around Christian’s neck and one around Brandon’s. He wasn’t hurting them, but his point was made.
“If I had been a Strigoi,” he growled, “these two would be dead.”
FIVE
M
OST DISCIPLINARY ISSUES AT the Academy went to Headmistress Kirova. She oversaw Moroi and dhampirs alike and was known for her creative and oft-used repertoire of punishments. She wasn’t cruel, exactly, but she wasn’t soft, either. She simply took student behavior seriously and dealt with it as she saw fit.
There were some issues, however, that were beyond her jurisdiction.
The school’s guardians calling together a disciplinary committee wasn’t unheard of, but it was very, very rare. You had to do something pretty serious to piss them off to get that sort of response. Like, say, willfully endangering a Moroi. Or
hypothetically
willfully endangering a Moroi.
“For the last time,” I growled, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
I sat in one of the guardians’ meeting rooms, facing my committee: Alberta, Emil, and one of the other rare female guardians on campus, Celeste. They sat at a long table, looking imposing, while I sat in a single chair and felt very vulnerable. Several other guardians were sitting in and watching, but thankfully, none of my classmates were there to see this humiliation. Dimitri was among the watchers. He was not on the committee, and I wondered if they’d kept him off because of his potentially biased role as my mentor.
“Miss Hathaway,” said Alberta, fully in her strict-captain mode, “you must know why we have a hard time believing that.”
Celeste nodded. “Guardian Alto saw you. You refused to protect two Moroi—including the one whose protection you were specifically assigned to.”
“I didn’t refuse!” I exclaimed. “I . . . fumbled.”
“That wasn’t a fumble,” said Stan from the watchers. He glanced at Alberta for permission to speak. “May I?” She nodded, and he turned back to me. “If you’d blocked or attacked me and then messed up, that would be a fumble. But you didn’t block. You didn’t attack. You didn’t even try. You just stood there like a statue and did nothing.”
Understandably, I was outraged. The thought that I would purposely leave Christian and Brandon to be “killed” by a Strigoi was ridiculous. But what could I do? I either confessed to screwing up majorly or to having seen a ghost. Neither option was appealing, but I had to cut my losses. One made me look incompetent. The other made me look insane. I didn’t want to be associated with either of those. I much preferred my usual description of “reckless” and “disruptive.”
“Why am I getting in trouble for messing up?” I asked tightly. “I mean, I saw Ryan mess up earlier. He didn’t get in trouble. Isn’t that the point of this whole exercise?
Practice
? If we were perfect, you’d already have unleashed us upon the world!”