Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection: 1/6

by Richelle Mead

  I don't know if he heard my pleas or not because the dream completely disappeared. I woke up in the car. My immediate reaction was to swear, but I didn't want to give away the idiotic thing I'd done. Glancing over, I nearly jumped out of my seat when I saw Sonya watching me intently.

  "You were having a spirit dream," she said.

  "How'd you know?"

  "Your aura."

  I made a face. "Auras used to be cool, but now they're just starting to get annoying."

  She laughed softly, the first time I'd heard her do so since being restored. "They're very informative if you know how to read them. Were you with Vasilisa?"

  "No. My boyfriend. He's a spirit user too."

  Her eyes widened in surprise. "That's who you were with?"

  "Yeah. Why? What's wrong?"

  She frowned, looking puzzled. A few moments later, she glanced up toward the front seat, where Dimitri and Robert sat, and then studied me in a scrutinizing way that sent chills down my spine.

  "Nothing," she said. "Nothing's wrong."

  I had to scoff at that. "Come on, it sure seemed like—"

  "There!" Sonya abruptly turned from me, leaned forward, and pointed. "Take that exit."

  We were nearly past "that exit," and Dimitri had to do some fancy maneuvering—kind of like in our escape back in Pennsylvania—to make it. The car jerked and lurched, and I heard Sydney yelp behind me.

  "A little warning next time would be helpful," Dimitri noted.

  Sonya wasn't listening. Her gaze was totally fixated on the road we'd pulled off onto. We came to a red light, where I caught sight of a cheery sign: WELCOME TO ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN. The spark of life I'd seen in her moments ago was gone. Sonya had returned to her tense, almost robotic self. Despite Sydney's clever negotiating, Sonya still seemed uncomfortable about this trip. She still felt guilty and traitorous.

  "Are we here?" I asked eagerly. "And how long were we on the road?" I'd hardly noticed the drive. I'd stayed awake for the first part of it, but the rest had been a blur of Lissa and Adrian.

  "Six hours," said Dimitri.

  "Go left at that second light," said Sonya. "Now right at the corner."

  Tension built in the car. Everyone was awake now, and my heart raced as we pushed deeper and deeper into suburbia. Which house? Were we close? Was one of these it? It was a fast drive but seemed to stretch forever. We all let out a collective breath when Sonya suddenly pointed.

  "There."

  Dimitri pulled into the driveway of a cute brick house with a perfectly trimmed lawn. "Do you know if your relatives still live here?" I asked Sonya.

  She said nothing, and I realized we were back to promise territory. Lockdown mode.

  So much for progress. "I guess there's only one way to find out," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Same plan?"

  Earlier, Dimitri and I had discussed who would go and who would stay behind if Sonya got us to the right place. Leaving the brothers behind was a no-brainer. The question had been who would guard them, and we'd decided Dimitri would while Sydney and I went with Sonya to meet her relatives—who were undoubtedly in for a shocking visit.

  "Same plan," agreed Dimitri. "You go to the house. You look less threatening."

  "Hey!"

  He smiled. "I said ‘look.'"

  But his reasoning made sense. Even at ease, there was something powerful and intimidating about Dimitri. Three women going up to the door would freak these people out less—especially if it turned out Sonya's relatives had moved. Hell, for all I knew, she'd purposely led us to the wrong house.

  "Be careful," Dimitri said, as we got out of the car.

  "You too," I replied. That got me another smile, one a little warmer and deeper.

  The feelings that stirred in me flitted away as Sonya, Sydney, and I walked up the sidewalk. My chest tightened. This was it. Or was it? Were we about to reach the conclusion of our journey? Had we really found the last Dragomir, against all odds? Or had I been played from the beginning?

  I wasn't the only one who was nervous. I could feel Sydney and Sonya crackling with tension too. We reached the front step. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

  Several seconds later, a man answered—and he was Moroi. A promising sign.

  He looked at each of our faces, no doubt wondering what a Moroi, a dhampir, and a human were doing at his door. It sounded like the start of a bad joke.

  "Can I help you?" he asked.

  I was suddenly at a loss. Our plan had covered the big stuff: find Eric's mistress and love child. What we'd say once we actually got there wasn't so clear. I waited for one of my companions to speak up now, but there was no need. The Moroi man's head suddenly whipped to my side as he did a double take.

  "Sonya?" he gasped. "Is that you?"

  Then, I heard a young female voice behind him call, "Hey, who's here?"

  Someone squeezed in beside him, someone tall and slim—someone I knew. My breath caught as I stared at waves of unruly light brown hair and light green eyes—eyes that should have tipped me off a long time ago. I couldn't speak.

  "Rose," exclaimed Jill Mastrano. "What are you doing here?"

  TWENTY-THREE

  THE FEW SECONDS OF SILENCE that followed seemed to stretch out to eternity. Everyone was confused, each for totally different reasons. Jill's initial surprise had been laced with excitement, but as she stared around from face to face, her smile faded and faded until she looked as bewildered as the rest of us.

  "What's going on?" asked a new voice. Moments later, Emily Mastrano appeared beside her daughter. Emily glanced at me and Sydney with curiosity and then gasped when she saw the third member of our group. "Sonya!" Emily jerked Jill back, her face filled with panic. Emily wasn't guardian-fast, but I admired her responsiveness.

  "Emily . . . ?" Sonya's voice was very small, on the verge of cracking. "It . . . it's me . . . really me . . ."

  Emily tried to tug the man inside as well but stopped when she got a good look at Sonya. Like anyone else, Emily had to acknowledge the obvious. Sonya had no Strigoi features. Plus, she was out in broad daylight. Emily faltered and opened her mouth to speak, but her lips couldn't quite manage it. She finally turned to me.

  "Rose . . . what's going on?"

  I was surprised that she would regard me as an authority, both because we'd only met once and because I honestly wasn't sure what was going on either. It took me a few attempts to find my voice. "I think . . . I think we should come inside . . ."

  Emily's gaze fell back on Sonya. Jill tried to push forward to see what all the drama was about, but Emily continued blocking the door, still not totally convinced it was safe. I couldn't blame her. At last, she gave a slow nod and stepped away to give us access.

  Sydney's eyes flicked toward the car, where Victor, Robert, and Dimitri were waiting. "What about them?" she asked me.

  I hesitated. I wanted Dimitri to be with me to drop the bombshell, but Emily might only be able to handle one thing at a time here. Moroi didn't have to run in royal circles to know who Victor Dashkov was or what he looked like. Our trip to Las Vegas had been proof of that. I shook my head at Sydney. "They can wait."

  We settled into the family's living room and learned the guy who'd answered the door was Emily's husband, John Mastrano. Emily went through the motions of offering us beverages, like this was a perfectly ordinary visit, but the look on her face confirmed she was still in shock. She handed us glasses of water like a robot, her face so pale she might have been Strigoi.

  John rested his hand on Emily's once she sat down. He kept giving us wary looks, but for her, he was all affection and concern. "What's going on?"

  Emily's eyes were still dazed. "I . . . don't know. My cousin is here . . . but I don't understand how . . ." She looked back and forth at me, Sydney, and Sonya. "How is this possible?" Her voice shook.

  "It was Lissa, wasn't it?" exclaimed Jill, who undoubtedly knew this relative's sordid history. She was understandably shocked—and a little nervous
—but excitement was beginning to stir. "I heard what happened with Dimitri. It's true, isn't it? Lissa can heal Strigoi. She saved him. She saved . . ." Jill turned toward Sonya, enthusiasm wavering a little. I wondered what kind of stories she'd heard about Sonya. "She saved you."

  "Lissa didn't do it," I said. "Another, uh, spirit user did."

  Jill's face lit up. "Adrian?" I'd forgotten about her crush on him.

  "No . . . someone else. It's not important," I added hastily. "Sonya's . . . well, she's Moroi again. Confused, though. Not quite herself."

  Sonya had been drinking in the sight of her cousin but now turned to me with a wry, knowing smile. "I can speak for myself, Rose."

  "Sorry," I said.

  Emily turned to Sydney and frowned. They'd been introduced, but no more. "Why are you here?" Emily didn't have to say what she really meant. She wanted to know why a human was here. "Are you a feeder?"

  "No!" exclaimed Sydney, jumping up from her spot beside me on the loveseat. I had never seen her filled with such outrage and disgust. "Say that again, and I'll walk right out of here! I'm an Alchemist."

  She was met with blank stares, and I pulled Sydney back down. "Easy, girl. I don't think they don't know what Alchemists are." Secretly, I was glad. When I'd first discovered the Alchemists, I'd felt like I was the last person in the world to find out. It was nice to know others were out of the loop too. Keeping things simple for now, I explained to Emily, "Sydney's been helping us."

  Tears brimmed in Emily's blue eyes as she turned back to her cousin. Emily Mastrano was one of the most stunning women I'd ever met. Even tears were beautiful on her. "It's really you, isn't it? They brought you back to me. Oh God." Emily rose and walked over to hold her cousin in a deep embrace. "I've missed you so much. I can't believe this."

  I almost felt like crying, too, but sternly reminded myself that we had come with a mission. I knew how startling this all was. We had just turned the Mastrano family's world upside down . . . and I was about to complicate things even more. I hated to do it. I wished they could have the time they needed to adjust, to celebrate the miracle of having Sonya back. But the clock at Court—and on my life—was ticking.

  "We brought her . . ." I said at last. "But there's another reason we're here."

  I don't know what tone my voice conveyed, but Emily stiffened and stepped back from Sonya, sitting down beside her husband. Somehow, in that moment, I think she knew why we were here. I could see in her eyes that she was afraid—as if she'd been dreading this type of visit for years, as if she'd imagined it a hundred times.

  I pushed forward. "We know . . . we know about Eric Dragomir."

  "No," said Emily, her voice an odd mixture of harshness and desperateness. Her obstinate manner was remarkably similar to Sonya's initial refusal to aid us. "No. We are not doing this."

  The instant I'd seen Jill, the instant I'd recognized those eyes, I'd known we had the right place. Emily's words—more importantly, her lack of a denial—confirmed it.

  "We have to," I said. "This is serious."

  Emily turned to Sonya. "You promised! You promised you wouldn't tell!"

  "I didn't," said Sonya, but her face wore its earlier doubt.

  "She didn't," I said firmly, hoping to reassure them both. "It's hard to explain . . . but she kept her promise."

  "No," repeated Emily. "This isn't happening. We cannot talk about this."

  "What . . . what's going on?" demanded John. Anger kindled in his eyes. He didn't like seeing strangers upset his wife.

  I directed my words to Emily. "We have to talk about this. Please. We need your help. We need her help." I gestured to Jill.

  "What do you mean?" asked Jill. That earlier eager spark was gone, cooled by her mother's reaction.

  "It's about your—" I came to a stop. I'd rushed into this, ready to find Lissa's sibling—her sister, we now knew—with little thought of the implications. I should have known this would be a secret from everyone—including the child in question. I hadn't considered what a shock this would be to her. And this wasn't just some random stranger. This was Jill. Jill. My friend. The girl who was like a little sister to all of us, the one we looked out for. What was I about to do to her? Looking at John, I realized things were worse still. Did Jill think he was her father? This family was about to be shaken to its core—and I was responsible.

  "Don't!" cried Emily, jumping up again. "Get out! All of you! I don't want you here!"

  "Mrs. Mastrano . . ." I began. "You can't pretend this isn't real. You have to face it."

  "No!" she pointed to the door. "Get out! Get out, or I'll . . . I'll call the police! Or the guardians! You . . ." Realization flashed over her now that the initial shock of seeing Sonya had faded. Victor wasn't the only criminal Moroi would be on guard for. "You're a fugitive! A murderer!"

  "She is not!" said Jill, leaning forward. "I told you, Mom. I told you before it was a mistake—"

  "Get out," repeated Emily.

  "Sending us away won't change the truth," I said, forcing myself to stay calm.

  "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" John's face was flushed red, angry and defensive. "If I don't have an answer within thirty seconds, I'm calling the guardians and the police."

  I looked over at Jill and couldn't speak. I didn't know how to say what I needed to, at least not tactfully. Sydney, however, didn't have that problem.

  "He's not your father," she said bluntly, pointing at John.

  There was a slight pause in the room. Jill almost looked disappointed, like she'd hoped for more exciting news.

  "I know that. He's my stepdad. Or, well, my dad as far as I'm concerned."

  Emily sank back on the couch, burying her face in her hands. She seemed to be crying, but I was pretty sure she could jump up at any moment and call the authorities. We had to get through this fast, no matter how painful.

  "Right. He's not your biological father," I said, looking steadily at Jill. The eyes. How had I never noticed the eyes? "Eric Dragomir is."

  Emily made a low keening sound. "No," she begged. "Please don't do this."

  John's anger morphed back to the confusion that seemed to be so in fashion in this room. "What?"

  "That . . . no." Jill slowly shook her head. "That's impossible. My father was just . . . just some guy who ran out on us."

  In some ways, that wasn't far from the truth, I supposed. "It was Eric Dragomir," I said. "You're part of their family. Lissa's sister. You're . . ." I startled myself, realizing I had to look at Jill in a whole new way. "You're royalty."

  Jill was always full of energy and optimism, operating in the world with a naive hope and charm. But now her face was grim and sober, making her look older than her fifteen years. "No. This is a joke. My dad was a lowlife. I'm not . . . no. Rose, stop."

  "Emily." I flinched at the sound of Sonya's voice, surprised to hear her speak. I was more surprised at her expression. Authoritative. Serious. Determined. Sonya was younger than Emily by—what? Ten years, if I had to guess. But Sonya had fixed her cousin with a stare that made Emily look like a naughty child. "Emily, it's time to give this up. You have to tell her. For God's sake, you have to tell John. You can't keep this buried anymore."

  Emily looked up and met Sonya's eyes. "I can't tell. You know what will happen . . . I can't do that to her."

  "None of us know what will happen," said Sonya. "But things will get worse if you don't take control now."

  After a long moment, Emily finally looked away, staring at the floor. The sad, sad look on her face broke my heart. And not just mine.

  "Mom?" asked Jill, voice trembling. "What's happening? This is all a big mix-up, right?"

  Emily sighed and looked up at her daughter. "No. You are Eric Dragomir's daughter. Rose is right." John made a small, strangled sound but didn't interrupt his wife. She squeezed his hand again. "What I told you both over the years . . . it was true. Mostly. We did just have a brief . . . relationship. Not a cheap one, exactly. But brie
f." She paused and glanced over at John this time, her expression softening. "I told you . . ."

  He nodded. "And I told you the past didn't matter to me. Never affected how I felt about you, about Jill. But I never imagined . . ."

  "Me neither," she agreed. "I didn't even know who he was when we first met. It was back when I lived in Las Vegas and had my first job, dancing in a show at the Witching Hour."

  I felt my eyes go wide. No one seemed to notice. The Witching Hour. My friends and I had been to that casino while hunting for Robert, and a man there had made a joke about Lissa's father being interested in showgirls. I knew Emily worked in a Detroit ballet company now; it was why they lived in Michigan. Never would I have guessed that she'd started as a feather-and-sequin-clad dancer in a Las Vegas show. But why not? She would have had to start somewhere, and her tall, graceful frame would lend itself well to any type of dancing.

  "He was so sweet . . . and so sad," Emily continued. "His father had just died, and he'd come to sort of drown his sorrows. I understood how a death would devastate him, but now . . . well, I really understand. It was another loss to his family. The numbers were dropping." She frowned thoughtfully and then shrugged. "He was a good man, and I think he truly loved his wife. But he was in a dark, low place. I don't think he was using me. He cared about me, though I doubt what happened between us would have in other circumstances. Anyway, I was fine with the way things ended and was content to move on with my life . . . until Jill came along. I contacted Eric because I thought he should know—though I made it clear I didn't expect anything from him. And at that point, knowing who he was, I didn't want anything. If I'd let him, I think he would have acknowledged you, had a role in your life." Emily's eyes were on Jill now. "But I've seen what that world is like. Court life is politics and lies and backstabbing. In the end, the only thing I'd accept from him was money. I still didn't want that. I didn't want to feel like I was blackmailing him—but I did want to make sure your future was secure."

  I spoke without thinking. "You don't really live like you're using that money." I regretted the words as soon as they were out. Their home was perfectly nice, hardly the depths of poverty. But it also didn't match the funds I'd seen moved around in those bank accounts.