The two ways to become Strigoi were by choice or by force. A Strigoi could turn another person—human, Moroi, or dhampir—by drinking their blood and then feeding Strigoi blood back to them. That was what had happened to Dimitri. The other way to become Strigoi was unique to Moroi—and it was done by choice. Moroi who purposely chose to kill a person by drinking blood would also turn Strigoi. Usually, Moroi only drank small, nonlethal amounts from willing humans. But taking so much that it destroyed another’s life force? Well, that turned Moroi to the dark side, taking away their elemental magic and transforming them into the twisted undead.
That was exactly what Christian’s parents had done. They’d willingly killed and become Strigoi to gain eternal life. Christian had never shown any desire to become Strigoi, but everyone acted as though he were about to. (Admittedly, his snarky attitude didn’t always help.) A lot of his close family—despite being royal—had been unfairly shunned as well. He and I had teamed up to kick a fair amount of Strigoi ass during the attack, though. Word of that was getting around and improving his reputation.
Kirova was never one to waste time with formalities, so she got straight to the point. “Mr. Lazar is going to be the new headmaster here.”
Lissa had still been smiling at him politely, but her head immediately jerked toward Kirova. “What?”
“I’m going to be stepping down,” explained Kirova, voice flat and emotionless enough to rival any guardian’s. “Though I’ll still be serving the school as a teacher.”
“You’re going to teach?” Christian asked incredulously.
She gave him a dry look. “Yes, Mr. Ozera. It was what I originally went to school for. I’m sure if I try hard enough, I can remember how to do it.”
“But why?” asked Lissa. “You do a great job.”
It was more or less true. Despite my disputes with Kirova—usually over me breaking rules—I still had a healthy respect for her. Lissa did too.
“It’s something I’ve thought about returning to for some time,” explained Kirova. “Now seemed as good a time as any, and Mr. Lazar is a very capable administrator.”
Lissa was pretty good at reading people. I think it was part of spirit’s side effects, along with how spirit made its users very, very charismatic. Lissa thought Kirova was lying, and so did I. If I’d been able to read Christian’s mind, my guess would have been that he felt the same way. The attack on the Academy had sent a lot of people into a panic, royals in particular, even though the problem that had led to the attack had long since been fixed. I was guessing that Tatiana’s hand was at work here, forcing Kirova to step down and have a royal take her place, thus making other royals feel better.
Lissa didn’t let her thoughts show, and she turned back to Mr. Lazar. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m sure you’ll do a great job. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” She was playing the proper princess role perfectly. Being polite and sweet was one of her many talents.
“Actually,” said Mr. Lazar, “there is.” He had a deep, booming voice, the kind that filled a room. He gestured toward his daughter. “I was wondering if you could show Avery around and help her find her way here. She graduated last year but will be assisting me in my duties. I’m sure she’d much rather be spending time with someone her own age, however.”
Avery smiled, and for the first time, Lissa really paid attention to her. Avery was beautiful. Stunning. Lissa was beautiful too, between that gorgeous hair and the jade green eyes that ran in her family. I thought she was a hundred times prettier than Avery, but beside the older girl, Lissa felt kind of plain. Avery was tall and slim like most Moroi but had a few sexy curves thrown in. That kind of chest, like mine, was coveted among Moroi, and her long brown hair and blue-gray eyes completed the package.
“I promise not to be too much of a pain,” said Avery. “And if you want, I’ll give you some insider’s tips on Court life. I hear you’re going to be moving there.”
Instantly, Lissa’s defenses went up. She realized what was going on. Not only had Tatiana ousted Kirova, she’d sent a keeper for Lissa. A beautiful, perfect companion who could spy on Lissa and attempt to train her up to Tatiana’s standards. Lissa’s words were perfectly polite when she spoke, but there was a definite edge of frost in her voice.
“That’d be great,” she said. “I’m pretty busy lately, but we can try to make the time.”
Neither Avery’s father nor Kirova seemed to notice the back off subtext, but something flashed in Avery’s eyes that told Lissa the message had come through.
“Thanks,” said Avery. Unless I was mistaken, there was some legitimate hurt in her face. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
“Good, good,” said Mr. Lazar, totally oblivious to the girl drama. “Maybe you can show Avery to guest housing? She’s staying in the east wing.”
“Sure,” said Lissa, wishing she could do anything but that.
She, Christian, and Avery started to leave, but just then, two guys entered the room. One was a Moroi, a little younger than us, and the other was a dhampir in his twenties—a guardian, from the look of his hard, serious features.
“Ah, there you are,” said Mr. Lazar, beckoning the guys in. He rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is my son Reed. He’s a junior and will be attending classes here. He’s very excited about it.”
Actually, Reed looked extremely unexcited. He was pretty much the surliest guy I’d ever seen. If I ever needed to play the role of a disgruntled teen, I could have learned everything there was to know about it from Reed Lazar. He had the same good looks and features as Avery, but they were marred by a grimace that seemed permanently attached to his face. Mr. Lazar introduced the others to Reed. Reed’s only response was a guttural, “Hey.”
“And this is Simon, Avery’s guardian,” continued Mr. Lazar. “Of course, while on campus, he doesn’t need to be with her all the time. You know how it goes. Still, I’m sure you’ll see him around.”
I hoped not. He didn’t look as completely unpleasant as Reed, but he had a certain dour nature that seemed extreme even among guardians. Suddenly, I kind of felt sorry for Avery. If this was her only company, I’d want to befriend someone like Lissa pretty badly. Lissa, however, made it clear that she wouldn’t be part of Tatiana’s schemes. With little conversation, she and Christian escorted Avery to guest housing and promptly left. Normally, Lissa would have stayed to help Avery get settled and offered to eat with her later. Not this time. Not with ulterior motives afoot.
I came back to my own body, back in the hotel. I knew I shouldn’t care about Academy life anymore and that I should even feel bad for Avery. Yet lying there and staring into the darkness, I couldn’t help but take some smug—and yes, very selfish—satisfaction out of this encounter: Lissa wouldn’t be shopping for a new best friend anytime soon.
FOUR
AT ANY OTHER TIME IN my life, I would have loved exploring Moscow. Sydney had planned our trip so that when our train arrived there, we’d have a few hours before we had to board the next one to Siberia. This gave us some time to wander around and grab dinner, though she wanted to make sure we were safely inside the station before it grew too dark out. Despite my badass claims or my molnija marks, she didn’t want to take any chances.
It made no difference to me how we spent our downtime. So long as I was getting closer to Dimitri, that was all that mattered. So Sydney and I walked aimlessly, taking in the sights and saying very little. I had never been to Moscow. It was a beautiful city, thriving and full of people and commerce. I could have spent days there just shopping and trying out the restaurants. Places I’d heard about all my life—the Kremlin, Red Square, the Bolshoi Theatre—were all at my fingertips. Despite how cool it all was, I actually tried to tune out the city’s sights and sounds after a while because it reminded me of . . . well, Dimitri.
He used to talk to me about Russia all the time and had sworn up and down that I’d love it here.
“To you,
it’d be like a fairy tale,” he’d told me once. It was during a before-school practice late last autumn, just before the first snowfall. The air had been misty, and dew coated everything.
“Sorry, comrade,” I’d replied, reaching back to tie my hair into a ponytail. Dimitri had always loved my hair down, but in combat practice? Long hair was a total liability. “Borg and out-of-date music aren’t part of any happy ending I’ve ever imagined.”
He’d given me one of his rare, easy grins then, the kind that just slightly crinkled up the corners of his eyes. “Borscht, not borg. And I’ve seen your appetite. If you were hungry enough, you’d eat it.”
“So starvation’s necessary for this fairy tale to work out?” There was nothing I loved more than teasing Dimitri. Well, aside from maybe kissing him.
“I’m talking about the land. The buildings. Go to one of the big cities—it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. Everyone in the U.S. tends to build the same—always in big, chunky blocks. They do what’s fast and easy. But in Russia, there are buildings that are like pieces of art. They are art—even a lot of the ordinary, everyday buildings. And places like the Winter Palace and Troitsky Church in Saint Petersburg? Those will take your breath away.”
His face had been aglow with the memory of sites he’d seen, that joy making his already handsome features divine. I think he could have named landmarks all day. My heart had burned within me, just from watching him. And then, just like I always did when I worried I might turn sappy or sentimental, I’d made a joke to shift the attention away and hide my emotions. It had switched him back into business mode, and we’d gotten to work.
Now, walking the city streets with Sydney, I wished I could take back that joke and listen to Dimitri talk more about his homeland. I would have given anything to have Dimitri with me here, the way he used to be. He’d been right about the buildings. Sure, most were blocky copies of anything you’d find in the U.S. or anywhere else in the world, but some were exquisite—painted with bright colors, adorned with their strange yet beautiful onion-shaped domes. At times, it really did seem like something from another world. And all the while, I kept thinking that it should have been Dimitri here by my side, pointing things out and explaining them to me. We should have been having a romantic getaway. Dimitri and I could have eaten at exotic restaurants and then gone dancing at night. I could have worn one of the designer dresses I’d had to leave behind in the Saint Petersburg hotel. That’s how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t supposed to be me with a glowering human.
“Unreal, huh? Like something from a story.”
Sydney’s voice startled me, and I realized we’d come to a stop in front of our train station. There were a number of them in Moscow. Her echoing of my conversation with Dimitri sent chills down my spine—largely because she was right. The station didn’t have the onion domes but still looked like something straight out of a storybook, like a cross between Cinderella’s castle and a gingerbread house. It had a big arched roof and towers on either end. Its white walls were interspersed with patches of brown brick and green mosaic, almost making it look striped. In the U.S., some might have called it gaudy. To me, it was beautiful.
I felt tears start to spring to my eyes as I wondered what Dimitri would have said about this building. He probably would have loved it just as he loved everything else here. Realizing that Sydney was waiting for a response, I swallowed back my grief and played flippant teenager. “Maybe something from a story about a train station.”
She arched an eyebrow, surprised at my indifference, but she didn’t question it. Who could say? Maybe if I kept up the sarcasm, she’d eventually get annoyed and ditch me. Somehow, I doubted I’d be that lucky. I was pretty sure her fear of her superiors trumped any other feelings she might have in regard to me.
We had first-class train accommodations, which turned out to be a lot smaller than I expected. There was a combination bed/sitting bench on each side, a window, and a TV high on the wall. I supposed that would help pass the time, but I often had trouble following Russian television—not just because of the language but also because some of the shows were downright bizarre. Still, Sydney and I would each have our own space, even if the room was cozier than we would have liked.
The colors reminded me a lot of the same fanciful patterns I’d seen throughout the cities. Even the hall outside our cabin was brightly colored, with plush carpet in red and yellow designs and a teal and yellow runner going down the middle. Inside our room, the benches were covered in cushions with rich orange velvet, and the curtains matched in shades of gold and peach, made of thick heavy fabric embossed with a silky pattern. Between all that and the ornate table in the middle of the cabin, it was almost like traveling in a mini-palace.
It was dark out by the time the train left the station. For whatever reason, the Trans-Siberian always left Moscow at night. It wasn’t that late yet, but Sydney said she wanted to sleep, and I didn’t want to make her more irate than she already was. So we turned off all the lights, save for a tiny reading lamp by my bed. I’d bought a magazine at the train station, and even if I couldn’t understand the language, the pictures of makeup and clothes transcended all cultural barriers. I flipped through the pages as quietly as I could, admiring summer tops and dresses and wondering when—if ever—I’d be able to start worrying about that kind of thing again.
I wasn’t tired when I lay down, but sleep took me nonetheless. I was dreaming about water-skiing when suddenly, the waves and sun around me dissolved into a room lined with shelves and shelves of books. Tables with state-of-the-art computers lined the rooms, and there was a calmness that permeated the place. I was in the library at St. Vladimir’s Academy.
I groaned. “Oh, come on. Not today.”
“Why not today? Why not every day?”
I turned and found myself looking into the handsome face of Adrian Ivashkov. Adrian was a Moroi, the queen’s great-nephew, and someone I’d left behind in my old life when I took off on this suicide mission. He had beautiful emerald-green eyes that made most girls swoon, particularly since they were paired with stylishly messy brown hair. He was also kind of in love with me and the reason I had so much money on this trip. I’d sweet-talked him out of it.
“True,” I admitted. “I suppose I should be grateful you only show up about once a week.”
He grinned and sat down backward in one of the slatted wooden chairs. He was tall, like most Moroi, with a leanly muscled build. Moroi guys never got too bulky. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Rose. Don’t want you to take me for granted.”
“We’re in no danger of that; don’t worry.”
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where you are?”
“Nope.”
Aside from Lissa, Adrian was the only other known living spirit user, and among his talents was the ability to show up in my dreams—often uninvited—and talk to me. I took it as a blessing that his powers never actually let him know where I was.
“You kill me, Rose,” he said melodramatically. “Every day is agony without you. Empty. Alone. I pine for you, wondering if you’re even still alive.”
He spoke in an exaggerated, silly sort of way that was characteristic of him. Adrian rarely took things seriously and always had a flippant edge. Spirit also had a tendency to make people unstable, and while he fought it, he wasn’t unaffected. Underneath that melodrama, though, I sensed a kernel of truth. No matter how shallow an appearance he gave off, he really did care about me.
I crossed my arms. “Well, I’m still alive, clearly. So I guess you can let me go back to sleep.”
“How many times have I told you? You are asleep.”
“And yet I inexplicably feel exhausted talking to you.”
This made him laugh. “Oh, I do so miss you.” That smile faded. “She misses you too.”
I stiffened. She. He didn’t even need to say her name. There was no question as to whom he was talking about.
Lissa.
Even saying
her name in my mind caused me pain, particularly after seeing her last night. Choosing between Lissa and Dimitri had been the hardest decision of my life, and time passing hadn’t made it any easier. I might have chosen him, but being away from her was like having an arm cut off, particularly because the bond ensured we were never truly apart.
Adrian gave me a canny look, like he could guess my thoughts. “Do you go see her?”
“No,” I said, refusing to acknowledge that I’d just seen her last night. Let him think I was truly free of all that. “That’s not my life anymore.”
“Right. Your life is all about dangerous vigilante missions.”
“You wouldn’t understand anything that isn’t drinking, smoking, or womanizing.”
He shook his head. “You’re the only one I want, Rose.”
Unfortunately, I believed him. It would have been easier for both of us if he could find someone else. “Well, you can keep feeling that way, but you’re going to have to keep waiting.”
“Much longer?”
He asked me this all the time, and every time, I emphasized how long it would be and how he was wasting his time. Thinking of Sydney’s possible lead, I hesitated tonight. “I don’t know.”
Hope blossomed on Adrian’s face. “That’s the most optimistic thing you’ve told me so far.”
“Don’t read too much into it. ‘I don’t know’ could be one day or one year. Or never.”
His mischievous grin returned, and even I had to admit it was cute. “I’m going to hope it’s one day.”
Thinking of Sydney brought a question to my mind. “Hey, have you ever heard of the Alchemists?”
“Sure,” he said.
Typical. “Of course you have.”
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