Reece rolled his eyes. “This is ridic—”
“If you’re Strigoi,” the boy interrupted loudly, “then why don’t you have horns? My friend Jeffrey said Strigoi have horns.”
Dimitri’s eyes fell not on the boy but on me for a moment. Again, that spark of knowing shot between us. Then, face smooth and serious, Dimitri turned to the boy and answered, “Strigoi don’t have horns. And even if they did, it wouldn’t matter because I’m not Strigoi.”
“Strigoi have red eyes,” I explained. “Do his eyes look red?”
The boy leaned forward. “No. They’re brown.”
“What else do you know about Strigoi?” I asked.
“They have fangs like us,” the boy replied.
“Do you have fangs?” I asked Dimitri in a singsong voice. I had a feeling this was already-covered territory, but it took on a new feel when asked from a child’s perspective.
Dimitri smiled—a full, wonderful smile that caught me off guard. Those kinds of smiles were so rare from him. Even when happy or amused, he usually only gave half smiles. This was genuine, showing all his teeth, which were as flat as those of any human or dhampir. No fangs.
The boy looked impressed. “Okay, Jonathan,” said his mother anxiously. “You asked. Let’s go now.”
“Strigoi are super strong,” continued Jonathan, who possibly aspired to be a future lawyer. “Nothing can hurt them.” I didn’t bother correcting him, for fear he’d want to see a stake shoved through Dimitri’s heart. In fact, it was kind of amazing that Reece hadn’t already requested that. Jonathan fixed Dimitri with a piercing gaze. “Are you super strong? Can you be hurt?”
“Of course I can,” replied Dimitri. “I’m strong, but all sorts of things can still hurt me.”
And then, being Rose Hathaway, I said something I really shouldn’t have to the boy. “You should go punch him and find out.”
Jonathan’s mother screamed again, but he was a fast little bastard, eluding her grasp. He ran up to Dimitri before anyone could stop him—well, I could have—and pounded his tiny fist against Dimitri’s knee.
Then, with the same reflexes that allowed him to dodge enemy attacks, Dimitri immediately feinted falling backward, as though Jonathan had knocked him over. Clutching his knee, Dimitri groaned as though he were in terrible pain.
Several people laughed, and by then, one of the other guardians had caught hold of Jonathan and returned him to his near-hysterical mother. As he was being dragged away, Jonathan glanced over his shoulder at Dimitri. “He doesn’t seem very strong to me. I don’t think he’s a Strigoi.”
This caused more laughter, and the third Moroi interrogator, who’d been quiet, snorted and rose from his seat. “I’ve seen all I need to. I don’t think he should walk around unguarded, but he’s no Strigoi. Give him a real place to stay and just keep guards on him until further decisions are made.”
Reece shot up. “But—”
The other man waved him off. “Don’t waste any more time. It’s hot, and I want to go to bed. I’m not saying I understand what happened, but this is the least of our problems right now, not with half the Council wanting to rip the other half’s heads off over the age decree. If anything, what we’ve seen today is a good thing—miraculous, even. It could alter the way we’ve lived. I’ll report back to Her Majesty.”
And like that, the group began dispersing, but there was wonder on some of their faces. They too were beginning to realize that if what had happened to Dimitri was real, then everything we’d ever known about Strigoi was about to change. The guardians stayed with Dimitri, of course, as he and Lissa rose. I immediately moved toward them, eager to bask in our victory. When he’d been “knocked over” by Jonathan’s tiny punch, Dimitri had given me a small smile, and my heart had leapt. I’d known then that I’d been right. He did still have feelings for me. But now, in the blink of an eye, that rapport was gone. Seeing me walk toward them, Dimitri’s face grew cold and guarded again.
Rose, said Lissa through the bond. Go away now. Leave him alone.
“The hell I will,” I said, both answering her aloud and addressing him. “I just furthered your case.”
“We were doing fine without you,” said Dimitri stiffly.
“Oh yeah?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You seemed pretty grateful a couple minutes ago when I thought up the idea of you helping us against Strigoi.”
Dimitri turned to Lissa. His voice was low, but it carried to me. “I don’t want to see her.”
“You have to!” I exclaimed. A few of the departing people paused to see what the racket was about. “You can’t ignore me.”
“Make her go away,” Dimitri growled.
“I’m not—”
ROSE!
Lissa shouted in my head, shutting me up. Those piercing jade eyes stared me down. Do you want to help him or not? Standing here and yelling at him is going to make him even more upset! Is that what you want? Do you want people to see that? See him get mad and yell back at you just so you don’t feel invisible? They need to see him calm. They need to see him . . . normal. It’s true—you did just help. But if you don’t walk away right now, you could ruin everything.
I stared at them both aghast, my heart pounding. Her words had all been in my mind, but Lissa might as well have strode up to me and chewed me out aloud. My temper shot up even more. I wanted to go rant at both of them, but the truth of her words penetrated through my anger. Starting a scene would not help Dimitri. Was it fair that they were sending me away? Was it fair that the two of them were teaming up and ignoring what I’d just done? No. But I wasn’t going to let my hurt pride screw up what I’d just achieved. People had to accept Dimitri.
I shot them both looks that made my feelings clear and then stormed away. Lissa’s feelings immediately changed to sympathy through the bond, but I blocked them out. I didn’t want to hear it.
I’d barely cleared the church’s grounds when I ran into Daniella Ivashkov. Sweat was starting to smudge her beautifully applied makeup, making me think she’d been out here for a while watching the Dimitri-spectacle too. She appeared to have a couple friends with her, but they kept their distance and chatted amongst themselves when she stopped in front of me. Swallowing my anger, I reminded myself she’d done nothing to piss me off. I forced a smile.
“Hi, Lady Ivashkov.”
“Daniella,” she said kindly. “No titles.”
“Sorry. It’s still a weird thing.”
She nodded toward where Dimitri and Lissa were departing with his guards. “I saw you there, just now. You helped his case, I think. Poor Reece was pretty flustered.”
I recalled that Reece was related to her. “Oh . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize. Reece is my uncle, but in this case, I believe in what Vasilisa and Mr. Belikov are saying.”
Despite how angry Dimitri had just made me, my gut instinct resented the dropping of his “guardian” title. Yet I could forgive her, considering her attitude.
“You . . . you believe Lissa healed him? That Strigoi can be restored?” I was realizing there were lots of people who believed. The crowd had just demonstrated as much, and Lissa was still building her following of devotees. Somehow, my line of thinking always tended to assume all royals were against me. Daniella’s smile turned wry.
“My own son is a spirit user. Since accepting that, I’ve had to accept a lot of other things I didn’t believe were possible.”
“I suppose you would,” I admitted. Beyond her, I noticed a Moroi man standing near some trees. His eyes occasionally fell on us, and I could have sworn I’d seen him before. Daniella’s next words turned my attention back to her.
“Speaking of Adrian . . . he was looking for you earlier. It’s short notice now, but some of Nathan’s relatives are having a late cocktail party in about an hour, and Adrian wanted you to go.” Another party. Was that all anyone ever did here at Court? Massacres, miracles . . . it didn’t matter. Everything
was cause for a party, I thought bitterly.
I’d probably been with Ambrose and Rhonda when Adrian went searching. It was interesting. In passing on the invitation, Daniella was also saying that she wanted me to go. Unfortunately, I had a hard time being as open to it. Nathan’s family meant the Ivashkovs, and they wouldn’t be so friendly.
“Will the queen be there?” I asked suspiciously.
“No, she has other engagements.”
“Are you sure? No unexpected visits?”
She laughed. “No, I’m certain of it. Rumor has it that you two being in the same room together . . . isn’t such a good idea.”
I could only imagine the stories going around about my Council performance, particularly since Adrian’s father had been there to witness it.
“No, not after that ruling. What she did . . .” The anger I’d felt earlier began to blaze again. “It was unforgivable.” That weird guy by the tree was still waiting around. Why?
Daniella didn’t confirm or deny my statement, and I wondered where she stood on the issue. “She’s still quite fond of you.”
I scoffed. “I have a hard time believing that.” Usually, people who yelled at you in public weren’t too “fond” of you, and even Tatiana’s cool composure had cracked near the end of our spat.
“It’s true. This will blow over, and there might even be a chance for you to be assigned to Vasilisa.”
“You can’t be serious,” I exclaimed. I should have known better. Daniella Ivashkov didn’t really seem like the joking type, but I really did believe I’d crossed the line with Tatiana.
“After everything that’s happened, they don’t want to waste good guardians. Besides, she doesn’t want there to be animosity between you.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t want her bribery! If she thinks putting Dimitri out there and dangling a royal job is going to change my mind, she’s wrong. She’s a lying, scheming—”
I stopped abruptly. My voice had gone loud enough that Daniella’s nearby friends were now staring. And I really didn’t want to say the names I thought Tatiana deserved in front of Daniella.
“Sorry,” I said. I attempted civility. “Tell Adrian I’ll come to the party . . . but do you really want me to go? After I crashed the ceremony the other night? And after, um, other things I’ve done?”
She shook her head. “What happened at the ceremony is as much Adrian’s fault as it is yours. It’s done, and Tatiana let it go. This party’s a much more lighthearted event, and if he wants you there, then I want him to be happy.”
“I’ll go shower and change now and meet him at your place in an hour.”
She was tactful enough to ignore my earlier outburst. “Wonderful. I know he’ll be happy to hear that.”
I declined to tell her that I was actually happy about the thought of flaunting myself in front of some Ivashkovs in the hopes that it would get back to Tatiana. I no longer believed for an instant that she accepted what was going on with Adrian and me or that she would let my outburst blow over. And truthfully, I did want to see him. We hadn’t had much time to talk recently.
After Daniella and her friends left, I figured it was time to get to the bottom of things. I headed straight over to the Moroi who’d been lurking around, hands on my hips.
“Okay,” I demanded. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
He was only a few years older than me and didn’t seem at all fazed by my tough-girl attitude. He crooked me a smile, and I again pondered where I’d seen him.
“I’ve got a message for you,” he said. “And some gifts.”
He handed over a tote bag. I looked inside and found a laptop, some cords, and several pieces of paper. I stared up at him in disbelief.
“What’s this?”
“Something you need to get a move on—and not let anyone else know about. The note will explain everything.”
“Don’t play spy movie with me! I’m not doing anything until you—” His face clicked. I’d seen him back at St. Vladimir’s, around the time of my graduation—always hovering in the background. I groaned, suddenly understanding the secretive nature—and cocky attitude. “You work for Abe.”
TWENTY-FOUR
THE MAN GRINNED. “YOU MAKE that sound like a bad thing.”
I made a face and looked back into the techno-bag with new appreciation. “What’s going on?”
“I’m the messenger. I just run errands for Mr. Mazur.”
“Is that a nice way of saying you spy for him? Find out everyone’s dirty secrets so that he can use them against people and keep playing his games?” Abe seemed to know everything about everyone—especially royal politics. How else could he manage it without having eyes and ears everywhere? Say, at Court? For all I knew, he had my room wired with microphones.
“Spying’s a harsh word.” I notice the guy didn’t deny it. “Besides, he pays well. And he’s a good boss.” He turned from me, job done, but gave one last warning. “Like I said—it’s time sensitive. Read the note as soon as you can.”
I had half a mind to throw it at the guy. I was getting used to the idea of being Abe’s daughter, but that didn’t mean I wanted to get tied up in some wacky scheme of his. A bag of hardware seemed foreboding.
Nonetheless, I hauled it back to my suite and emptied the contents onto my bed. There were a few sheets of paper, the top one being a typed cover letter.
Rose,
I hope Tad was able to get this to you in a timely manner. And I hope you weren’t too mean to him. I’m doing this on behalf of someone who wants to speak to you about an urgent matter. However, it’s a conversation that no one else must hear. The laptop and satellite modem in this bag will allow you to have a private discussion, so long as you’re in a private location. I’ve included step-by-step instructions on how to configure it. Your meeting will take place at 7 a.m.
There was no name at the bottom, but I didn’t need one. I set the letter down and stared at the jumble of cords. Seven was less than an hour away.
“Oh, come on, old man,” I exclaimed.
To Abe’s credit, the accompanying papers did have very basic directions that didn’t require a computer engineer’s insight. The only problem was, there were a lot of them, detailing where each cord went, what password to log in with, how to configure the modem, and so on. For a moment I considered ignoring it all. Yet when someone like Abe used the word urgent, it made me think maybe I shouldn’t be so hasty in my dismissal.
So, bracing myself for some technical acrobatics, I set to following his instructions. It took almost the entire time I had, but I managed to hook up the modem and camera and access the secure program that would allow me to video-conference with Abe’s mysterious contact. I finished with a few minutes to spare and waited the time out by staring at a black window in the middle of the screen, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.
At exactly seven, the window came to life, and a familiar—but unexpected—face appeared.
“Sydney?” I asked in surprise.
The video had that same, slightly jerky feel most Internet feeds had, but nonetheless, the face of my (kind of) friend Sydney Sage smiled back at me. Hers was a dry-humored smile, but that was typical of her.
“Good morning,” she said, stifling a yawn. From the state of her chin-length blond hair, it was likely she’d just gotten out of bed. Even in the poor resolution, the golden lily tattoo on her cheek gleamed. All Alchemists had that same tattoo. It consisted of ink and Moroi blood, imparting Moroi good health and longevity to the wearer. It also had a bit of compulsion mixed in to keep the Alchemists’ secret society from revealing anything they shouldn’t about vampires.
“Evening,” I said. “Not morning.”
“We can argue your messed-up unholy schedule some other time,” she said. “That’s not what I’m here for.”
“What are you here for?” I asked, still astonished to see her. The Alchemists did their jobs almost reluctantly, and while Sydney liked me better than most Moroi or dh
ampirs, she wasn’t the type to make friendly phone (or video) calls. “Wait . . . you can’t be in Russia. Not if it’s morning . . .” I tried to remember the time change. Yes, for humans over there, the sun would be down or about to be right now.
“I’m back in my native country,” she said with mock grandeur. “Got a new post in New Orleans.”
“Whoa, nice.” Sydney had hated being assigned to Russia, but my impression had been she was stuck there until finishing her Alchemist internship. “How’d you manage that?”
Her small smile turned to an expression of discomfort. “Oh, well. Abe, um, kind of did me a favor. He made it happen.”
“You made a deal with him?” Sydney must have really hated Russia. And Abe’s influence must have really been deep if he could affect a human organization. “What did you give him in return? Your soul?” Making a joke like that to someone as religious as her wasn’t very appropriate. Of course, I think she thought Moroi and dhampirs ate souls, so maybe my comment wasn’t too out there.
“That’s the thing,” she said. “It was kind of an ‘I’ll let you know when I need a favor in the future’ arrangement.”
“Sucker,” I said.
“Hey,” she snapped. “I don’t have to be doing this. I’m actually doing you a favor by talking to you.”
“Why are you talking to me exactly?” I wanted to question her more about her open-ended deal with the devil but figured that would get me disconnected.
She sighed and brushed some hair out of her face. “I need to ask you something. And I swear I won’t tell on you . . . I just need to know the truth so that we don’t waste our time on something.”
“Okay . . .” Please don’t ask me about Victor, I prayed.
“Have you broken into any place lately?”
Damn. I kept my face perfectly neutral. “What do you mean?”
“The Alchemists had some records stolen recently,” she explained. She was all business-serious now. “And everyone’s going crazy trying to figure out who did it—and why.”
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