“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.
TWENTY
“L
ET’S 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.”
“You don’t think he was responsible for his own actions? That he was the one who chose to do that?”
“Well . . . yeah. I guess he did. I didn’t make him do it.”
“Any other reason you might feel guilty?”
I looked away from her and focused on a picture of a lady-bug. “He liked me—like romantically. We kind of dated, but I couldn’t get into it. That hurt him.”
“Why couldn’t you get into it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. The image of his body, lying on the floor, flashed into my mind and I shoved it away. No way would I cry in front of Deirdre. “That’s the thing. I should have. He was nice. He was funny. We got along really well . . . but it just didn’t feel right. Even kissing or anything like that . . . I eventually just couldn’t do it.”
“Do you feel like you have a problem with intimate contact?”
“What do you—? Oh. No! Of course not.”
“Have you ever had sex with anyone?”
“No. Are you saying I should have?”
“Do you think you should have?”
Damn. I’d thought I had her. I’d thought for sure she wouldn’t have a question for that one. “Mason wasn’t the right person.”
“Is there someone else? Someone you think might be the right person?”
I hesitated. I’d lost track of how this related to me seeing ghosts. According to some paperwork I’d signed, everything we said in here was confidential. She couldn’t tell anyone unless I was a danger to myself or doing something illegal. I wasn’t entirely sure where a relationship with an older man fell there.
“Yeah . . . but I can’t tell you who he is.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Almost six months.”
“Do you feel close?”
“Yeah, sure. But we’re not . . .” How exactly did one describe this? “We’re not actually really involved. He’s kind of . . . unavailable.” She could think what she wanted about that, like that maybe I was interested in a guy with a girlfriend.
“Is he the reason you couldn’t get close to Mason?”
“Yes.”
“And is he holding you back from dating someone else?”
“Well . . . he’s not like purposely doing anything.”
“But as long as you care about him, you’re not interested in anyone else?”
“Right. But it doesn’t matter. I probably shouldn’t even be dating anyone at all.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no time. I’m training to be a guardian. I have to give all my attention to Lissa.”
“And you don’t think you can do that and be romantically involved with someone?”
I shook my head. “No. I have to be willing to lay down my life for hers. I can’t be distracted by someone else. We have this saying with the guardians: ‘They come first.’ You guys. Moroi.”
“And so you figure you’ll always have to put Lissa’s needs ahead of yours?”
“Of course.” I frowned. “What else would I do? I’m going to be her guardian.”
“How does that make you feel? Giving up what you want for her?”
“She’s my best friend. And she’s the last of her family.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yeah, but—” I stopped. “Hey, you didn’t ask a question.”
“You think I always ask questions?”
“Never mind. Look, I love Lissa. I’m happy to spend my life protecting her. End of story. Besides, are you, a Moroi, going to tell me, a dhampir, that I shouldn’t be putting Moroi first? You know how the system works.”
“I do,” she said. “But I’m not here to analyze it. I’m here to help you get better.”
“Seems like you might not be able to do one without the other.”
Deirdre’s lips quirked into a smile, and then her eyes flicked to the clock. “We’re out of time today. We’ll have to pick this up next time.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I thought you’d be giving me some kind of awesome advice or telling me what to do. But you just kept making me talk.”
She laughed softly. “Therapy isn’t so much about what I think as you do.”
“Then why do it at all?”
“Because we don’t always know what it is we’re thinking or feeling. When you have a guide, it’s easier to figure things out. You’ll often discover that you already know what to do. I can help you ask questions and go places you might not have on your own.”
“Well, you’re good at the question part,” I noted dryly.
“While I don’t have any ‘awesome advice,’ I do have some things I want you to think about for when we talk again.” She glanced down at her notepad and tapped it with her pencil while she thought. “First, I want you to think again about what I asked about Lissa—how you really feel about dedicating your life to her.”
“I already told you.”
“I know. Just think about it some more. If your answer’s the same, that’s fine. Then, I want you to consider something else. I want you to think about whether maybe the reason you’re attracted to this unavailable guy is
because
he’s unavailable.”
“That’s crazy. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Is it? You just told me that you can’t ever be involved with anyone. Do you think it’s possible that wanting someone you can’t have is your subconscious mind’s way of coping? If it’s impossible for you to have him, then you never have to confront feeling conflicted about Lissa. You’ll never have to choose.”
“This is confusing,” I grumbled.
“It’s supposed to be. That’s why I’m here.”
“What’s this have to do with Mason?”
“It has to do with you, Rose. That’s what’s important.”
I left therapy feeling like my brain had melted. I also kind of felt like I’d been on trial. If Deirdre had been there to grill Victor, they probably would have finished up in half the time.
I
also
thought Deirdre had totally been going in the wrong direction. Of course I didn’t resent Lissa. And the thought that I’d fallen for Dimitri because I couldn’t have him was ridiculous. I’d never even thought of the conflict with guarding until he’d mentioned it. I’d fallen for him because . . . well, because he was Dimitri. Because he was sweet, strong, funny, fierce, and gorgeous. Because he understood me.
And yet, as I walked back to the commons, I found her question spinning around in my brain. I might not have been thinking about a relationship distracting us in our guard duties, but I’d certainly known from the start that his age and job were huge barriers. Could that have really played a part? Had some piece of me known we could never really have anything—thus allowing me to always stay dedicated to Lissa?
No, I decided firmly. That was ridiculous. Deirdre might be good at asking questions, but she was clearly asking the wrong ones.
“Rose!”
I looked to my right and saw Adrian cutting across the lawn toward me, oblivious to the slush’s effects on his designer shoes.
“Did you just call me ‘Rose’?” I asked. “And not ‘little dhampir’? I don’t think that’s ever happened.”
“It happens all the time,” he countered, catching up to me.
We stepped inside the commons. School was in session, so the halls were empty.
“Where’s your better half?” he asked.
“Christian?”
“No, Lissa. You can tell where she is, right?”
“Yeah, I can tell because it’s last period, and she’s in class like everyone else. You keep forgetting that for the rest of us, this is a school.”
He looked disappointed. “I found more case files I wanted to talk to her about. More super-compulsion stuff.”
“Whoa, you’ve been doing something productive? I’m impressed.”
“You’re one to talk,” he said. “Especially considering your whole existence here revolves around beating people up. You dhampirs are uncivilized—but then, that’s why we love you.”
“Actually,” I mused, “we aren’t the only ones doing beatings lately.” I’d nearly forgotten about my royal fight club mystery. There were so many things I had to worry about lately. It was like trying to hold water in my hands. It was a long shot, but I had to ask him. “Does the word
Mână
mean anything to you?”
He leaned against the wall and reached for his cigarettes. “Sure.”
“You’re inside the school,” I warned.
“What—oh, right.” With a sigh, he put the pack back in his coat. “Don’t half of you study Romanian here? It means ‘hand.’”
“I study English here.” Hand. That didn’t make any sense.
“Why the interest in translation?”
“I don’t know. I think I got it wrong. I thought it had some connection to this thing that’s been going on with these royals.”
Recognition flashed in his eyes. “Oh Lord. Not that. Are they really doing it here too?”
“Doing what?”
“The Mână. The Hand. It’s this stupid secret society that pops up at schools. We had a chapter of it back at Alder. It’s mostly a bunch of royals getting together and having secret meetings to talk about how much better they are than everyone else.”
“That’s it then,” I said. The pieces clicked together. “That’s Jesse and Ralf’s little group—the one they tried to get Christian to join. That’s what this Mână is.”
“Him?” Adrian laughed. “They must have been desperate—and I don’t mean that as a slam against Christian. He’s just not really the type to get into that kind of thing.”
“Yeah, well, he turned them down pretty hard. What’s the point of this secret society exactly?”
He shrugged. “The same as any other. It’s a way to make people feel better about themselves. Everyone likes feeling special. Being part of an elite group is a way to do that.”
“But you weren’t part of it?”
“No need. I already know I’m special.”
“Jesse and Ralf made it sound like royals had to stick together because of all the controversies that are going on—about fighting and guardians and all that. They made it sound like they could do something about it.”
“Not at this age,” said Adrian. “Mostly all they can do is talk. When they get older, Mână members sometimes cut deals for each other and still have secret meetings.”
“That’s it then? They’re just hanging out and talking to hear themselves talk?”
He turned contemplative. “Well, yes, of course they’re doing lots of that. But I mean, whenever these little chapters form, there’s usually something
specific
they want to do in secret. Each group’s kind of different that way, so this one’s probably got some plan or scheme or whatever.” A plan or scheme. I didn’t like the sound of that. Especially with Jesse and Ralf.