Mentally, I breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. It wasn’t about Tarasov. Thank God there was one crime I wasn’t guilty of. Then the full meaning of her words hit me. I glared.
“Wait. You guys get robbed, and I’m the one you suspect? I thought I was off your list of evil creatures?”
“No dhampir is off my list of evil creatures,” she said. That half smile of hers had returned, but I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. It faded quickly, showing what a big deal this was for her. “And believe me, if anyone could break into our records, you could. It’s not easy. Practically impossible.”
“Um, thank you?” I wasn’t sure if I should feel flattered or not.
“Of course,” she continued scornfully, “they only stole paper records, which was stupid. Everything’s backed up digitally nowadays, so I’m not sure why they’d go digging through dinosaur filing cabinets.”
I could give her a lot of reasons why someone would do that, but finding out why I was her number-one suspect was more important. “That is stupid. So why do you think I’d do it?”
“Because of what was stolen. It was information about a Moroi named Eric Dragomir.”
“I—what?”
“That’s your friend, right? His daughter, I mean.”
“Yeah . . .” I was almost speechless. Almost. “You have files on Moroi?”
“We have files on everything,” she said proudly. “But when I tried to think who could commit a crime like this and would be interested in a Dragomir . . . well, your name popped into my head.”
“I didn’t do it. I do a lot of things, but not that. I didn’t even know you had those kinds of records.”
Sydney regarded me suspiciously.
“It’s the truth!”
“Like I said before,” she told me, “I won’t turn you in. Seriously. I just want to know so that I can get people to stop wasting time on certain leads.” Her smugness sobered. “And, well, if you did do it . . . I need to keep the attention off you. I promised Abe.”
“Whatever it takes for you to believe me, I didn’t do it! But now I want to know who did. What did they steal? Everything on him?”
She bit her lip. Owing Abe a favor might mean she’d go behind her own people’s backs, but she apparently had limits on how much she’d betray.
“Come on! If you’ve got digital backup, you have to know what was taken. This is Lissa we’re talking about.” An idea came to me. “Could you send me copies?”
“No,” she said swiftly. “Absolutely not.”
“Then please . . . just a hint of what they were about! Lissa’s my best friend. I can’t let anything happen to her.”
I fully braced myself for rejection. Sydney didn’t seem very personable. Did she have friends? Could she understand what I felt?
“Mostly bio stuff,” she said at last. “Some of his history and observations we’d made.”
“Observ—” I let it go, deciding I really didn’t want to know more than I had to about Alchemists spying on us. “Anything else?”
“Financial records.” She frowned. “Particularly about some large deposits he made to a bank account in Las Vegas. Deposits he went out of his way to cover up.”
“Las Vegas? I was just there. . . .” Not that it was relevant.
“I know,” she said. “I saw some Witching Hour security tapes of your adventure. The fact that you’d run off like that is part of why I suspected you. It seemed in character.” She hesitated. “The guy with you . . . the tall Moroi with dark hair . . . is that your boyfriend?”
“Er, yeah.”
It took a long time and great effort for her to concede the next statement. “He’s cute.”
“For an evil creature of the night?”
“Of course.” She hesitated again. “Is it true you guys went there to elope?”
“What? No! These stories get to you guys too?” I shook my head, almost laughing at how ridiculous this all was, but knowing I needed to get back to the facts. “So, Eric had an account in Vegas he was moving money into?”
“It wasn’t his. It was some woman’s.”
“What woman?”
“No one—well, no one we can track. She was just down as ‘Jane Doe.’”
“Original,” I muttered. “Why would he be doing that?”
“That we don’t know. Or really care about. We just want to know who broke in and stole our stuff.”
“The only thing I know about that is that it wasn’t me.” Seeing her scrutinizing look, I threw up my hands. “Come on! If I wanted to know about him, I’d just ask Lissa. Or steal our own records.”
Several moments of silence passed.
“Okay. I believe you,” she said.
“Really?”
“Do you want me to not believe you?”
“No, it was just easier than I thought convincing you.”
She sighed.
“I want to know more about these records,” I said fiercely. “I want to know who Jane Doe is. If you could get me other files—”
Sydney shook her head. “Nope. This is where I cut you off. You know too much already. Abe wanted me to keep you out of trouble, and I’ve done that. I’ve done my part.”
“I don’t think Abe’s going to let you go so easily. Not if you made an open-ended deal.”
She didn’t acknowledge that, but the look in her brown eyes made me think she agreed. “Good night, Rose. Morning. Whatever.”
“Wait, I—”
The screen went black.
“Damn,” I growled, shutting the laptop more forcefully than I should have.
Every part of that conversation had been a shock, starting with Sydney and ending with someone stealing Alchemist records about Lissa’s father. Why would anyone care about a dead man? And why steal the records at all? To learn something? Or to try to hide information? If that last one was true, then Sydney was right that it had been a failed effort.
I replayed it all in my head as I got ready for bed, staring at my reflection while brushing my teeth. Why, why, why? Why do it? And who? I needed no more intrigue in my life, but anything involving Lissa had to be treated seriously. Unfortunately, it soon became clear I wouldn’t figure out anything tonight, and I fell asleep with all those questions spinning around in my head.
I woke up the next morning feeling a little less overwhelmed—but still short on answers. I debated whether or not to tell Lissa about what I’d learned and finally decided I should. If someone was gathering information on her father, she had a right to know, and besides, this was hardly the same as rumors about his—
A thought startled me in the middle of scrubbing shampoo into my hair. I’d been too tired and surprised to string together the pieces last night. That guy at the Witching Hour had said Lissa’s dad was there a lot. Now Sydney’s records reported that he’d made large deposits into an account in Las Vegas. Coincidence? Maybe. But as time went on, I was starting not to believe in coincidences anymore.
Once presentable, I set out toward Lissa’s side of Court—but didn’t get very far. Adrian was waiting for me down in my building’s foyer, slumped back into an armchair.
“It’s early for you, isn’t it?” I teased, coming to a stop in front of him.
I expected a smile in return, but Adrian didn’t look particularly cheerful this morning. In fact, he appeared kind of bedraggled. His hair lacked its usual styling care, and his clothing—unusually dressy for this time of day—was wrinkled. The scent of clove cigarettes hung around him.
“Easy to be early when you don’t get much sleep,” he responded. “I was up a lot of the night waiting for someone.”
“Waiting for—oh. God.” The party. I’d totally forgotten the party his mother had invited me to. Abe and Sydney had distracted me. “Adrian, I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged and didn’t touch me when I sat down on the arm of his chair. “Whatever. I probably shouldn’t be surprised anymore. I’m starting to realize I’ve been deluding myself.”
“No, no. I
was going to go, but then you won’t believe what—”
“Save it. Please.” His voice was weary, his eyes bloodshot. “It’s not necessary. My mom told me she saw you over at Dimitri’s questioning.”
I frowned. “But that’s not why I missed the party. There was this guy—”
“That’s not the point, Rose. The point is that you managed to make time for that—and a visit to his cell, if what I heard is true. Yet, you couldn’t bother showing up at something you said you’d do with me—or even send a message. That was all you had to do: say you couldn’t go. I waited over an hour for you at my parents’ house before giving up.”
I started to say he could have tried to contact me, but honestly, why should he have? It wasn’t his responsibility. I was the one who’d told Daniella I’d meet him there. It was my fault for not showing up.
“Adrian, I’m sorry.” I clasped his hand, but he didn’t squeeze back. “Really, I meant to, but—”
“No,” he interrupted again. “Ever since Dimitri came back . . . no, scratch that. Ever since you became obsessed with changing him, you’ve been torn over me. No matter what’s happened between us, you’ve never really given yourself over to our relationship. I wanted to believe what you told me. I thought you were ready . . . but you weren’t.”
Protests rose to my lips, but once more, I stopped them. He was right. I’d said I’d give dating him a fair shot. I’d even sunk into the comfortable role of his girlfriend, yet the whole time . . . the whole time, part of me had been consumed with Dimitri. I’d known it too but had kept living split lives. A weird flashback to my time with Mason popped into my head. I’d led the same double life with him, and he’d died for it. I was a mess. I didn’t know my own heart.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I really do want us to have something. . . .” Even to me, the words sounded so lame. Adrian gave me a knowing smile.
“I don’t believe that. Neither do you.” He stood up and ran his hand over his hair, not that it did any good. “If you really want to be with me, then you’ve got to mean it this time.”
I hated seeing him so grim. I especially hated being the reason. I followed him to the door. “Adrian, wait. Let’s talk more.”
“Not now, little dhampir. I need some sleep. I just can’t handle playing this game right now.”
I could have gone after him. I could have tackled him to the ground. But it wouldn’t have been worth it . . . because I had no answers to give him. He’d been right about everything, and until I could make up my own confused mind, I had no right to force a talk. Besides, considering the state he was in, I doubted any further conversation would have been productive.
Yet as he started to step outside, I couldn’t help my next words. “Before you go—and I understand why you have to—there’s something I’ve got to ask you. Something that’s not about us. It affects—it affects Lissa.”
This slowly brought him to a halt. “Always a favor.” With a world-weary sigh, he glanced at me over his shoulder. “Make it fast.”
“Someone broke into the Alchemists’ records and stole information about Lissa’s dad. Some of it was ordinary life history stuff, but there were some documents about him making secret deposits into a bank account in Las Vegas. Some woman’s bank account.”
Adrian waited a few moments. “And?”
“And I’m trying to figure out why someone would do that. I don’t want anyone snooping around her family. Do you have any idea what her dad would have been doing?”
“You heard the guy at the casino. Her dad was there a lot. Maybe he had gambling debts and was paying off a loan shark.”
“Lissa’s family’s always had money,” I pointed out. “He couldn’t have gotten into that much debt. And why would anyone care enough to steal that info?”
Adrian threw up his hands. “I don’t know. That’s all I’ve got, at least this early in the morning. I don’t have the brain power for intrigue. I can’t really picture any of that being a threat to Lissa, though.”
I nodded, disappointed. “Okay. Thanks.”
He continued on his way, and I watched him go. Lissa lived near him, but I didn’t want him to think I was following him. When he’d put enough distance between us, I stepped outdoors as well and started to head in the same direction. The faint sound of bells brought me to a halt. I hesitated, suddenly unsure where to go.
I wanted to talk to Lissa and tell her what Sydney had told me. Lissa was alone for a change; this was the perfect opportunity. And yet . . . the bells. It was Sunday morning. Mass was about to start at the Court’s church. I had a hunch about something, and in spite of everything that had happened—including with Adrian—I had to see if I was right.
So I sprinted off toward the church, going in the opposite direction of Lissa’s building. The doors were shut when I reached my destination, but a few other latecomers were trying to quietly slip in. I entered with them, pausing to get my bearings. Clouds of incense hung in the air, and my eyes took a moment to adjust from sunlight to candlelight. Since this church dwarfed St. Vladimir’s chapel, it was packed with a lot more people than I was used to seeing at mass. Most of the seats were full.
But not all of them.
My hunch had been right. Dimitri sat in one of the back pews. A few guardians sat near him, of course, but that was it. Even in a crowded church, no one else had joined him on the bench. Reece had asked Dimitri if he’d step inside the church yesterday, and Dimitri had gone one step further, saying he’d even go to Sunday services.
The priest had already begun to speak, so I moved down Dimitri’s pew as quietly as I could. Silence didn’t matter, though, because I still attracted a fair amount of attention from nearby people who were astonished to see me sitting next to the Strigoi-turned-dhampir. Eyes stared and several hushed conversations broke out.
The guardians had left some space near Dimitri, and when I sat beside him, the look on his face showed he was both surprised and not surprised by this.
“Don’t,” he said in a hushed voice. “Don’t start—not in here.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, comrade,” I murmured back. “Just came for the good of my soul, that’s all.”
He didn’t need to say a word to convey to me that he doubted I was here for any holy reasons. I stayed quiet throughout the service, though. Even I respected some boundaries. After several minutes, the tension in Dimitri’s body eased a little. He’d grown wary when I joined him but must have eventually decided I’d be on good behavior. His attention shifted off of me and focused on the singing and the praying, and I did my best to watch him without being obvious.
Dimitri used to go to the school’s chapel because it brought him peace. He had always said that even though the killing he did destroyed evil in the world, he still felt the need to come think about his life and seek forgiveness for his sins. Seeing him now, I realized that was truer than ever.
His expression was exquisite. I was so used to seeing him hide emotions that it was a bit startling for him to suddenly have a host of them on his face. He was absorbed in the priest’s words, his gorgeous face completely focused. And I realized he was taking everything the priest was saying about sin personally. Dimitri was replaying all the awful things he’d done as a Strigoi. From the despair on his face, you’d think that Dimitri himself was responsible for all the sins of the world the priest spoke of.
For a moment, I thought I saw hope on Dimitri’s face too, just a spark of it mixed in with his guilt and sorrow. No, I realized. Not hope. Hope implies that you think you have a chance at something. What I saw in Dimitri was longing. Wistfulness. Dimitri wished that by being here in this holy place and listening to the messages conveyed, he might find redemption for what he had done. Yet . . . at the same time, it was clear he didn’t believe that was possible. He wanted it but could never have it as far as he was concerned.
Seeing that in him hurt me. I didn’t know how to react to that kind of bleak attitude. He thought there was no hope
for him. Me? I couldn’t imagine a world without hope.
I also never would have imagined I’d quote back a church lesson, but when the rest of the crowd stood up to take communion, I found myself saying to Dimitri: “Don’t you think that if God can supposedly forgive you, it’s kind of egotistical for you not to forgive yourself?”
“How long have you been waiting to use that line on me?” he asked.
“Actually, it just came to me. Pretty good, huh? I bet you thought I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You weren’t. You never do. You were watching me.”
Interesting. To know that I was watching him, would Dimitri have had to have watched me watching him? It boggled the mind. “You didn’t answer my question.”
He kept his eyes on the communion line while composing his answer. “It’s irrelevant. I don’t have to forgive myself even if God does. And I’m not sure He would.”
“That priest just said God would. He said God forgives everything. Are you calling the priest a liar? That’s pretty sacrilegious.”
Dimitri groaned. I never thought I’d take joy in tormenting him, but the frustrated look on his face wasn’t because of his personal grief. It was because of me being impertinent. I’d seen this expression a hundred times on him, and the familiarity of it warmed me, as crazy as that sounds.
“Rose, you’re the one being sacrilegious. You’re twisting these people’s faith for your own purposes. You’ve never believed in any of this. You still don’t.”
“I believe that the dead can come back to life,” I said seriously. “The proof is sitting right next to me. If that’s true, then I think you forgiving yourself isn’t that much more of a leap.”
His gaze hardened, and if he was praying for anything right then, it was that the communion process would speed up so that he could get out of here and away from me. We both knew he had to wait this church service out. If he ran out, it would make him look Strigoi.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Don’t I?” I hissed, leaning closer. I did it to drive home my point, but all it did (for me, at least) was give me a better view of the way the candlelight shone on his hair and how long and lean his body was. Someone had apparently decided he could be trusted to shave, and his face was smooth, showing its wonderful, perfect lines.
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