After a bit more examination, Dr. Olendzki gave me a clean bill of health and told me I could go back to my dorm. Alberta left after that, but Dimitri stuck around to walk me back.
“Thanks for thinking of the half-time thing,” I told him. The walkways were wet today because the weather had warmed up after the storm. It wasn’t bathing suit weather or anything, but a lot of the ice and snow were melting. Water dripped steadily from trees, and we had to sidestep puddles.
Dimitri came to an abrupt stop and turned so that he stood right in front of me, blocking my path. I skidded to a halt, nearly running into him. He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer to him than I would have expected him to do in public. His fingers bit deep into me, but they didn’t hurt.
“Rose,” he said, the pain in his voice making my heart stop, “this shouldn’t have been the first time I heard about this! Why didn’t you tell me? Do you know what it was like? Do you know it was like for me to see you like that and not know what was happening? Do you know how scared I was?”
I was stunned, both from his outburst and our proximity. I swallowed, unable to speak at first. There was so much on his face, so many emotions. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen that much of him on display. It was wonderful and frightening at the same time. I then said the stupidest thing possible.
“You’re not scared of anything.”
“I’m scared of lots of things. I was scared for you.” He released me, and I stepped back. There was still passion and worry written all over him. “I’m not perfect. I’m not invulnerable.”
“I know, it’s just . . .” I didn’t know what to say. He was right. I always saw Dimitri as larger than life. All-knowing. Invincible. It was hard for me to believe that he could worry about me so much.
“And this has been going on for a long time too,” he added. “It was going on with Stan, when you were talking to Father Andrew about ghosts—you were dealing with it this whole time! Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell Lissa . . . or . . . me?”
I stared into those dark, dark eyes, those eyes I loved. “Would you have believed me?”
He frowned. “Believed what?”
“That I’m seeing ghosts.”
“Well . . . they aren’t ghosts, Rose. You only think they are because—”
“That’s why,” I interrupted. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you or anybody. Nobody would believe me, not without thinking I’m crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he said. “But I think you’ve been through a lot.” Adrian had said almost the exact same thing when I asked him how I could tell if I was crazy or not.
“It’s more than that,” I said. I started walking again.
Without even taking another step, he reached out and grabbed me once more. He pulled me back to him, so that we now stood even closer than before. I glanced uneasily around again, wondering if someone might see us, but the campus was deserted. It was early, not quite sunset, so early that most people probably weren’t even up for the school day yet. We wouldn’t see activity around here for at least another hour. Still, I was surprised to see Dimitri was still risking it.
“Tell me then,” he said. “Tell me how it’s more than that.”
“You won’t believe me,” I said. “Don’t you get it? No one will. Even you . . . of all people.” Something in that thought made my voice catch. Dimitri understood so much about me. I wanted—needed—him to understand this too.
“I’ll . . . try. But I still don’t think you really understand what’s happening to you.”
“I do,” I said firmly. “That’s what no one realizes. Look, you have to decide once and for all if you really do trust me. If you think I’m a child, too naive to get what’s going on with her fragile mind, then you should just keep walking. But if you trust me enough to remember that I’ve seen things and know things that kind of surpass those of others my age . . . well, then you should also realize that I might know a little about what I’m talking about.”
A lukewarm breeze, damp with the scent of melted snow, swirled around us. “I do trust you, Roza. But . . . I don’t believe in ghosts.”
The earnestness was there. He did want to reach out to me, to understand . . . but even as he did, it warred with beliefs he wasn’t ready to change yet. It was ironic, considering tarot cards apparently spooked him.
“Will you try to?” I asked. “Or at the very least try not to write this off to some psychosis?”
“Yes. That I can do.”
So I told him about my first couple of Mason sightings and how I’d been afraid to explain the Stan incident to anyone. I talked about the shapes I’d seen on the plane and described in more detail what I’d seen on the ground.
“Doesn’t it seem kind of, um, specific for a random stress reaction?” I asked when I finished.
“I don’t know that you can really expect ‘stress reactions’ to be random or specific. They’re unpredictable by nature.” He had that thoughtful expression I knew so well, the one that told me he was turning over all sorts of things in his head. I could also tell that he still wasn’t buying this as a real ghost story but that he was trying very hard to keep an open mind. He affirmed as much a moment later: “Why are you so certain these aren’t just things you’re imagining?”
“Well, at first I thought I was imagining it all. But now . . . I don’t know. There’s something about it that feels real . . . even though I know that isn’t actually evidence. But you heard what Father Andrew said—about ghosts sticking around after they die young or violently.”
Dimitri actually bit his lip. He’d been about to tell me not to take the priest literally. Instead he asked, “So you think Mason’s back for revenge?”
“I thought that at first, but now I’m not so sure. He’s never tried to hurt me. He just seems like he wants something. And then . . . all those other ghosts seemed to want something too—even the ones I didn’t know. Why?”
Dimitri gave me a sage look. “You have a theory.”
“I do. I was thinking about what Victor said. He mentioned that because I’m shadow-kissed—because I died—I have a connection to the world of the dead. That I’ll never entirely leave it behind me.”
His expression hardened. “I wouldn’t put a lot of stock in what Victor Dashkov tells you.”
“But he knows things! You know he does, no matter how big an asshole he is.”
“Okay, supposing that’s true, that being shadow-kissed lets you see ghosts, why is it happening now? Why didn’t it happen right after the car accident?”
“I thought of that,” I said eagerly. “It was something else Victor said—that now that I was dealing in death, I was that much closer to the other side. What if causing someone else’s death strengthened my connection and now makes this possible? I just had my first real kill. Kills, even.”
“Why is it so haphazard?” asked Dimitri. “Why does it occur when it does? Why the airplane? Why not at Court?”
My enthusiasm dimmed a little. “What are you, a lawyer?” I snapped. “You question everything I’m saying. I thought you were going to have an open mind.”
“I am. But you need to too. Think about it. Why this pattern of sightings?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. I sagged in defeat. “You still think I’m crazy.”
He reached out and cupped my chin, tipping my face up to look at his. “No. Never. Not one of these theories makes me think you’re crazy. But I’ve always believed the simplest explanation makes sense. Dr. Olendzki’s does. The ghost one has holes. But, if you can find out more . . . then we may have something to work with.”
“We?” I asked.
“Of course. I’m not leaving you alone on this, no matter what. You know I’d never abandon you.”
There was something very sweet and noble about his words, and I felt the need to return them, though mostly I ended up sounding idiotic. “And I won’t ever abandon you, you know. I mean it . . . not tha
t this stuff ever happens to you, of course, but if you start seeing ghosts or anything, I’ll help you through it.”
He gave a small, soft laugh. “Thanks.”
Our hands found each other’s, fingers lacing together. We stood like that for almost a full minute, neither of us saying anything. The only place we touched was our hands. The breeze picked up again, and although the temperature was probably only in the forties, it felt like spring to me. I expected flowers to burst into bloom around us. As though sharing the same thought, we released our hands at the same time.
We reached my dorm shortly after that, and Dimitri asked if I’d be okay going in on my own. I told him I’d be fine and that he should go do his own thing. He left, but just as I was about to step through the lobby door, I realized my overnight bag was still back at the med clinic. Muttering a few things that would have gotten me a detention, I turned around and hurried back in the direction I’d just come.
Dr. Olendzski’s receptionist motioned me toward the examining rooms when I told her why I was there. I retrieved the bag from my now-empty room and turned into the hall to leave. Suddenly, in the room opposite mine, I saw someone lying in bed. There was no sign of any of the clinic’s staff, and my curiosity—always getting the better of me—made me peek inside.
It was Abby Badica, a senior Moroi. Cute and perky were the adjectives that usually came to mind when I described Abby, but this time, she was anything but. She was bruised and scratched up, and when she turned her face to look at me, I saw red welts.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You fell.”
“W-what?”
“You fell. I hear that’s the standard answer: Brandon, Brett, and Dane. But I’ll tell you the truth—you guys need to come up with something else. I think the doctor’s getting suspicious.”
Her eyes went wide. “You know?”
It was then that I realized my mistake with Brandon. I’d come at him demanding answers, which had made him reluctant to share anything. Those who’d questioned Brett and Dane had faced similar results. With Abby, I realized that I just had to act like I already knew the answers, and then she’d give up the information.
“Of course I know. They told me everything.”
“What?” she squeaked. “They swore not to. It’s part of the rules.”
Rules? What was she talking about? The royal-bashing vigilante group I’d been picturing didn’t really seem like the type to have rules. There was something else going on here.
“Well, they didn’t have much of a choice. I don’t know why, but I keep finding you guys afterward. I had to help cover for them. I’m telling you, I don’t know how much longer this can go on without someone asking more questions.” I spoke like I was a sympathizer, wanting to help if I could.
“I should have been stronger. I tried, but it wasn’t enough.” She looked tired—and in pain. “Just keep quiet until everything’s set, okay? Please?”
“Sure,” I said, dying to know what she’d “tried.” “I’m not going to drag anyone else in. How’d you even end up here? You’re supposed to avoid attracting attention.” Or so I assumed. I was totally making this up as I went along.
She grimaced. “The dorm matron noticed and made me come in. If the rest of the Mână finds out, I’m going to get in trouble.”
“Hopefully the doctor’ll send you on your way before any of them find out. She’s kind of busy. You’ve got the same marks as Brett and Brandon, and none of theirs were that serious.” So I hoped. “The . . . uh, burn marks were a little tricky, but they haven’t had any problems.”
It was a gamble in my game here. Not only did I have no clue about the specifics of Brett’s injuries, I also didn’t actually know if those marks Jill had described on him were burns. If they weren’t, I might have just blown my insider act. But, she didn’t correct me, and her fingers absentmindedly touched one of the welts.
“Yeah, they said the damage wouldn’t last. I’ll just have to make up something for Olendzki.” A small flicker of hope shone in her eyes. “They said they wouldn’t, but maybe . . . maybe they’ll let me try again.”
It was at that moment that the good doctor returned. She was surprised to see me still there and told me I needed to get back home and rest. I said goodbye to both of them and trekked back out into the cold. I barely noticed the weather as I walked, though. Finally, finally, I had a clue in this puzzle. Mână.
NINETEEN
LISSA HAD BEEN MY best friend ever since elementary school, which was why keeping so many secrets from her lately had hurt so much. She was always open with me, always willing to share what was on her mind—but then, maybe that was because she had no choice. I used to be that way with her, yet at some point, I’d started locking my secrets in, unable to tell her about Dimitri or the real reason I’d messed up with Stan. I hated it being that way. It ate me up inside and made me feel guilty around her.
Today, however, there was absolutely no way I could wiggle out of explaining what had happened at the airport. Even if I made up something, the fact that I was on half-time with Christian would be a huge tip-off that something was going on. No excuses this time.
So, as much as it hurt, I gave her and Christian—as well as Eddie and Adrian, who were hanging around—the short version of what had happened.
“You think you saw ghosts?” Christian exclaimed. “Seriously?” The look on his face showed me that he was already building a list of snide comments to make.
“Look,” I snapped, “I told you what was going on, but I don’t want to elaborate on it. It’s getting worked out, so just let it drop.”
“Rose . . .” began Lissa uneasily. A hurricane of emotions was beating through to me from her. Fear. Concern. Shock. Her compassion made me feel that much worse.
I shook my head. “No, Liss. Please. You guys can think whatever you want about me or make up your own theories, but we’re not going to talk about it. Not now. Just leave me alone about it.”
I expected Lissa to badger me because of her normal persistence. I expected Adrian and Christian to because of their irritating natures. But even though my words had been simple, I realized I’d delivered them with a harshness both in voice and manner. It was Lissa’s surprised mental reaction that alerted me to that, and then I needed only to look at the guys’ faces to realize I must have sounded incredibly bitchy.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m just not in the mood.”
Lissa eyed me. Later, she said in my mind. I gave her a brief nod, secretly wondering how I could avoid that conversation.
She and Adrian had met to practice magic again. I still liked being able to be close to her, but I was only able to do so because Christian was hanging around too. And honestly, I couldn’t figure out why he stayed. I guess he was still a little jealous, despite everything that had happened. Of course, if he’d known about the queen’s matchmaking schemes, he might have had good reason. Nonetheless, it was clear these magic lessons were starting to bore him. We were in Ms. Meissner’s classroom today, and he pulled two desks together and stretched out across them, tossing an arm over his eyes.
“Wake me when it gets interesting,” he said.
Eddie and I stood in a central position that let us watch the door and windows while also staying near the Moroi.
“You really saw Mason?” Eddie whispered to me. He turned sheepish. “Sorry . . . you said you didn’t want to talk about it. . . .”
I started to say yes, that was exactly what I’d said . . . but then I saw the look on Eddie’s face. He wasn’t asking me about this out of perverse curiosity. He asked because of Mason, because of their closeness, and because Eddie wasn’t over his best friend’s death any more than I was. I think he found the idea of Mason communicating from beyond the grave reassuring, but then, he hadn’t been the one to actually see Mason’s ghost.
“I think it was him,” I murmured back. “I don’t know. Everyone thinks I imagined it.”
“How did he
look? Was he upset?”
“He looked . . . sad. Really sad.”
“If it was really him . . . I mean, I don’t know.” Eddie looked at the ground, momentarily forgetting to watch the room. “I’ve always wondered if he was upset that we didn’t save him.”
“There was nothing we could have done,” I told him, reiterating exactly what everyone had told me. “But I wondered that too, because Father Andrew had mentioned that ghosts sometimes come back for revenge. But Mason didn’t look that way. He just seemed like he wanted to tell me something.”
Eddie looked back up suddenly, realizing he was still on guard duty. He didn’t say anything else after that, but I knew where his thoughts were.
Meanwhile, Adrian and Lissa were making progress. Or rather, Adrian was. The two of them had dug up a bunch of scraggly plants that had died or gone dormant for the winter and put them in little pots. The pots were now lined up in a row on a long table. Lissa touched one, and I felt the euphoria of magic burn within her. A moment later, the scrappy little plant turned green and sprouted leaves.
Adrian stared hard at it, as though it held all the secrets of the universe, and then exhaled deeply. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”
He lightly placed his fingers on a different plant. Here goes nothing might have been an accurate statement, because nothing actually happened. Then, a few moments later, the plant shuddered a little. A hint of green started to grow in it and then it stopped.
“You did it,” said Lissa, impressed. I could also feel that she was a little jealous. Adrian had learned one of her tricks, but she still hadn’t learned any of his.
“Hardly,” he said, glaring at the plant. He was completely sober, with none of his vices to mellow him. Spirit had nothing to stop it from making him feel irritable. With our moods, we actually had something in common tonight. “Damn it.”
“Are you kidding?” she asked. “It was great. You made a plant grow—with your mind. That’s amazing.”
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