Last Sacrifice (6)

by Richelle Mead

  ʺYou did it.ʺ I gave him a quick kiss on the lips. ʺYou got them to nominate Lissa.ʺ After our last dream visit, when Iʹd realized there might be some merit to Victorʹs suggestion, Iʹd had to work hard to convince Adrian that the nomination idea was a good one—particularly since I hadnʹt been sure myself.

  ʺYeah, getting that group on board was easy.ʺ He seemed to like my admiration, but his face grew grimmer as he pondered my words. ʺSheʹs not happy about it, though. Boy, she let us have it afterward.ʺ

  ʺI saw it. Youʹre right that she doesnʹt like it—but it was more than that. It was spirit-darkness. I took some of it away, but yeah . . . it was bad.ʺ I remembered how taking her anger had caused it to flare up briefly in me. Spirit didnʹt hit me as hard as it did her—but that was only temporary. Eventually, if I pulled enough over the years, it would take over. I caught hold of Adrianʹs hand and gave him as pleading a look as I could manage. ʺYouʹve got to look after her. Iʹll do what I can, but you know as well as I do how stress and worry can agitate spirit. Iʹm afraid itʹll come back like it used to. I wish I could be there to take care of her. Please—help her.ʺ

  He tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear, concern in his deep green eyes. At first, I thought his worry was just for Lissa. ʺI will,ʺ he said. ʺIʹll do what I can. But Rose . . . will it happen to me? Is that what Iʹll become? Like her and the others?ʺ

  Adrian had never shown the extreme side effects Lissa had, largely because he didnʹt use as much spirit and because he did so much self-medicating with alcohol. I didnʹt know how long that would last, though. From what Iʹd seen, there were only a few things to delay the insanity: self-discipline, antidepressants, and bonding to someone shadow-kissed. Adrian didnʹt seem interested in any of those options.

  It was weird, but in this moment of vulnerability, I was reminded of what had just happened with Dimitri. Both of these men, so strong and confident in their ways, yet each needing me for support. Youʹre the strong one, Rose, a voice whispered inside my head.

  Adrian gazed off. ʺSometimes . . . sometimes I can believe the insanity is all imagined, you know? Iʹve never felt it like the others . . . like Lissa or old Vlad. But once in a while . . .ʺ he paused. ʺI donʹt know. I feel so close, Rose. So close to the edge. Like if I allow myself one small misstep, Iʹll plunge away and never come back. Itʹs like Iʹll lose myself.ʺ

  Iʹd heard him say stuff like this before, when heʹd go off on some weird tangent that only half made sense. It was the closest he ever came to showing that spirit might be messing with his mind too. Iʹd never realized he was aware of these moments or what they could mean.

  He looked back down at me. ʺWhen I drink . . . I donʹt worry about it. I donʹt worry about going crazy. But then I think . . . maybe I already I am. Maybe I am, but no one can tell the difference when Iʹm drunk.ʺ

  ʺYouʹre not crazy,ʺ I said fiercely, pulling him to me. I loved his warmth and the way he felt against my skin. ʺYouʹll be okay. Youʹre strong.ʺ

  He pressed his cheek to my forehead. ʺI donʹt know,ʺ he said. ʺI think youʹre my strength.ʺ

  It was a sweet and romantic statement, but something about it bothered me. ʺThatʹs not quite right,ʺ I said, wondering how I could put my feelings into words. I knew you could help someone else in a relationship. You could strengthen them and support them. But you couldnʹt actually do everything for them. You couldnʹt solve all their problems. ʺYou have to find it within your—ʺ

  The hotel roomʹs alarm clock blared and broke me from the dream, leaving me frustrated both because I missed Adrian and hadnʹt been able to say all I wanted to. Well, there was nothing I could do for him now. I could only hope heʹd manage on his own.

  Sydney and I were both sluggish and squinty-eyed. It made sense that sheʹd be exhausted, since her whole sleeping schedule—when she actually got sleep—had been thrown off. Me? My fatigue was mental. So many people, I thought. So many people needed me . . . but it was so hard to help all of them.

  Naturally, Dimitri was up and ready to go. Heʹd woken before us. Last nightʹs breakdown might as well have never happened. It turned out heʹd been dying for coffee and had patiently waited for us, not wanting to leave us sleeping and undefended. I shooed him off, and twenty minutes later, he returned with coffee and a box of donuts. He also had purchased an industrial-strength chain at a hardware store across the street ʺfor when we find Sonya,ʺ which made me uneasy. By then Sydney and I were ready to go, and I decided to hold off on my questions. I wasnʹt crazy about wearing shorts again, not with my legs in this condition, but I was too eager to get to Sonya to insist we stop at a mall.

  I did, however, decide it was time to get my companions up to speed.

  ʺSo,ʺ I began casually, ʺVictor Dashkov might be joining us soon.ʺ

  It was to Sydneyʹs credit that she didnʹt drive off the road. ʺWhat? That guy who escaped?ʺ

  I could see in Dimitriʹs eyes that he was just as shocked, but he kept cool and under control, like always. ʺWhy,ʺ he began slowly, ʺis Victor Dashkov joining us?ʺ

  ʺWell, itʹs kind of a funny story . . .ʺ

  And with that intro, I gave them as brief yet thorough a recap as I could, starting with the background on Robert Doru and ending with the brothersʹ recent dream visits. I glossed over Victorʹs ʺmysteriousʺ escape a few weeks ago, but something told me that Dimitri, in that uncanny way we had of guessing each otherʹs thoughts, was probably putting the pieces together. Both Lissa and I had told Dimitri weʹd gone through a lot to learn how to restore him, but weʹd never explained the full story—especially the part about breaking out Victor so that he could help us find his brother.

  ʺLook, whether he can help or not, this is our chance to catch him,ʺ I added hastily. ʺThatʹs a good thing, right?ʺ

  ʺIt′s an issue weʹll deal with . . . later.ʺ I recognized the tone in Dimitriʹs voice. Heʹd used it a lot at St. Vladimirʹs. It usually meant there was a private talk in my future, where Iʹd be grilled for more details.

  Kentucky turned out to be pretty beautiful as we drove out to Paris. The land was rolling and green as we got out of the city, and it was easy to imagine wanting to live in a little house out here. I wondered idly if that had been Sonyaʹs motivation and then caught myself. Iʹd just told Dimitri that Strigoi saw no beauty. Was I wrong? Would gorgeous scenery matter to her?

  I found my answer when our GPS led us to Martin Lake. There were only a few houses scattered around it, and among those, only one was blue. Stopping a fair distance away from the house, Sydney parked the car off to the side of the road as much as she could. It was narrow, the shoulders covered in trees and high grass. We all got out of the car and walked a little ways, still keeping our distance.

  ʺWell. Itʹs a blue house,ʺ declared Sydney pragmatically. ʺBut is it hers? I donʹt see a mailbox or anything.ʺ

  I looked closer at the yard. Rose bushes, full of pink and red blossoms, grew in front of the porch. Baskets thick with white flowers I didnʹt know the names of hung from the roof, and blue morning glories climbed up a trellis. Around the house, I could just barely make out a wood fence. A vine with orange, trumpet-shaped flowers crawled over it.

  Then, an image flickered into my mind, gone as quickly as it had come. Ms. Karp watering pots of flowers in her classroom, flowers that seemed to grow impossibly fast and tall. As a teenager more interested in dodging homework, I hadnʹt thought much about them. It was only later, after watching Lissa make plants grow and bloom during spirit experiments, that I understood what had been happening in Ms. Karpʹs classroom. And now, even deprived of spirit and possessed by evil, Sonya Karp was still tending her flowers.

  ʺYeah,ʺ I said. ʺThis is her house.ʺ Dimitri approached the front porch, studying every detail. I started to follow but held back. ʺWhat are you doing?ʺ I kept my voice low. ʺShe might see you.ʺ

  He returned to my side. ʺThose are black-out curtains. They arenʹt letting in any light, so she isnʹt going to see anything. It also
means she likely spends her time on the houseʹs main floor, rather than a basement.ʺ

  I could easily follow his line of thinking. ʺThatʹs good news for us.ʺ When Iʹd been captured by Strigoi last year, my friends and I had been held in a basement. Not only was it convenient for Strigoi wanting to avoid the sun, it also meant fewer escape and entry options. It was easy for Strigoi to trap prey in a basement. The more doors and windows we had, the better.

  ʺIʹll scout the other side,ʺ he said, starting for the backyard.

  I hurried up to him and caught him by the arm. ʺLet me. Iʹll sense any Strigoi—not that sheʹs going outside, but, well, just in case.ʺ

  He hesitated, and I grew irate, thinking he didnʹt believe me capable. Then, he said, ʺOkay. Be careful.ʺ I realized he was just worried about me.

  I moved as smoothly and quietly as I could around the house, soon discovering the wooden fence was going to create difficulty in seeing the backyard. I feared climbing over might alert Sonya to my presence and pondered what to do. My solution came in the form of a large rock lying near the fenceʹs edge. I dragged the stone over and stood on top. It wasnʹt enough to let me look completely over, but I was able to easily put my hands on top of the fence and hoist myself up for a peek with minimal noise.

  It was like looking into the Garden of Eden. The flowers in the front had merely been the warm-up act. More roses, magnolia and apple trees, irises, and a billion other flowers I didnʹt recognize. Sonyaʹs backyard was a paradise of lush color. I scoped out what I needed to and hurried back to Dimitri. Sydney still stood by the car.

  ʺA patio door and two windows,ʺ I reported. ʺAll curtained. Thereʹs also a wooden deck chair, a shovel, and a wheelbarrow.ʺ

  ʺAny pitchforks?ʺ

  ʺUnfortunately, no, but thereʹs a big-ass rock sitting outside the fence. Itʹd be hard to get it into the yard, though. Weʹre better off using it to help us climb over. No gate in the fence. Sheʹs made a fortress.ʺ

  He nodded in understanding, and without any conversation, I knew what to do. We got the chain from the car and entrusted it to Sydney. We told her to wait for us outside—with the strict instructions to leave if we werenʹt back in thirty minutes. I hated to say that kind of thing—and Sydneyʹs face indicated she didnʹt like hearing it—but it was inevitable. If we hadnʹt subdued Sonya in that amount of time, we werenʹt going to subdue her at all—or leave alive. If we did manage to overtake her, weʹd give some signal for Sydney to come in with the chain.

  Sydneyʹs amber-brown eyes were filled with anxiety as she watched us head back around the house. I nearly teased her for caring about evil creatures of the night but stopped myself just in time. She might loathe every other dhampir and Moroi in the world, but somewhere along the way, sheʹd come to like Dimitri and me. That wasnʹt something to mock.

  Dimitri stood on the rock and surveyed the yard. He murmured a few last-minute instructions to me before taking my hands and boosting me up over the fence. His height went a long way to make the maneuver as easy and quiet—though not silent—as possible. He followed me shortly thereafter, landing beside me with a small thud.

  After that, we sprang forward with no delay. If Sonya had heard us, then there was no point in wasting time. We needed every advantage we could get. Dimitri grabbed the shovel and swung it hard into the glass—once, twice. The first strike was about the height of my head, the second lower. The glass fractured more with each impact. Right on the heels of the second hit, I pushed forward and shoved the wheelbarrow into the door. Lifting it and throwing it against the glass would have been a lot cooler, but it was too unwieldy to raise very high. When the wheelbarrow struck the already weakened glass, the cracked areas broke and crumbled altogether, creating a hole big enough for both of us to get through. We both had to duck—especially Dimitri.

  A simultaneous attack through both sides of the house would have been ideal, but it wasnʹt like Sonya could run out the front door. Nausea had started to creep over me as soon as we were near the patio, and the sensation hit full force as we entered a living room. I ignored my stomach in the way Iʹd perfected and braced myself for what was to come. Weʹd broken in pretty quickly but not quickly enough to truly get the jump on Strigoi reflexes.

  Sonya Karp was right there, ready for us, doing all she could to avoid the sunlight spilling into the living room. When Iʹd first seen Dimitri as a Strigoi, Iʹd been so shocked that Iʹd frozen up. It had allowed him to capture me, so Iʹd mentally braced myself this time, knowing Iʹd feel the same shock when I saw my former teacher as a Strigoi. And it was shocking. Just like with him, so many of Sonyaʹs features were the same as before: the auburn hair and high cheek bones . . . but her beauty was twisted by all the other terrible conditions: chalky skin, red eyes, and the expression of cruelty that all Strigoi seemed to wear.

  If she recognized us, she gave no sign and lunged toward Dimitri with a snarl. It was a common Strigoi tactic to take out the bigger threat first, and it annoyed me that they always believed that was Dimitri. Heʹd shoved his stake in his belt in order to carry the shovel inside with him. The shovel wouldnʹt kill a Strigoi, but with enough strength and momentum, it would definitely keep Sonya at armʹs length. He struck her with it in the shoulder after her first attempt, and while she didnʹt fall over, she definitely waited before trying another attack. They circled each other, like wolves readying for a battle, as she sized up her odds. One charge, and her greater strength would push him down, shovel or not.

  All of this took place in a matter of seconds, and Sonyaʹs calculations had left me out of the equation. I made my own charge, slamming into her other side, but she saw me coming out of the corner of her eye and responded instantly, throwing me down while never taking her eyes off Dimitri. I wished I had the shovel and could hit her in the back from a safe distance. All I carried was my stake, and I had to be careful with it since it could kill her. I did a quick scan of her eerily normal living room and couldnʹt see any other potential weapons.

  She feinted, and Dimitri went for it. He just barely corrected himself as she leapt forward to take advantage of the situation. She thrust him against the wall, pinning him there and knocking the shovel from his grasp. He struggled against her, trying to break free as her hands found his throat. If I tried to pull her off, my strength combined with Dimitriʹs would probably free him. I wanted this over as quickly as possible, however, and decided to make a power play.

  I ran toward her, stake in hand, and plunged it through her right shoulder blade, hoping I was nowhere near her heart. The charmed silver, so agonizing to Strigoi skin, made her scream. Frantic, she shoved me away with force that was astonishing even for a Strigoi. I fell backward, stumbling, and whacked my head against a coffee table. My vision dimmed slightly, but instinct and adrenaline drove me back to my feet.

  My attack gave Dimitri the split second he needed. He knocked Sonya to the ground and grabbed my stake, pushing it against her throat. She screamed and flailed, and I moved forward to help him, knowing how hard it was to pin a Strigoi.

  ʺGet Sydney . . .ʺ he grunted. ʺThe chain . . .ʺ

  I moved as quickly as I could, stars and shadows dancing in front of me. I unlocked the front door and kicked it open as a signal, then ran back to Dimitri. Sonya was making good progress in fighting him off. I dropped to my knees, working with Dimitri to keep her restrained. He had that battle lust in his eyes again, a look that said he wanted to destroy her right here and now. But there was something else, too. Something that made me think he had more control, that my words in the alley had actually had an impact. Still, I uttered a warning.

  ʺWe need her . . . remember we need her.ʺ

  He gave me a slight nod, just as Sydney showed up lugging the chain. She stared at the scene wide-eyed, pausing only a moment before hurrying over to us. Weʹll make a warrior of her yet, I thought.

  Dimitri and I moved to our next task. Weʹd already spotted the best place to bind Sonya: a heavy, reclining armchair in the corner. Lifti
ng her—which was dangerous since she was still thrashing wildly—we thrust her into the chair. Then, keeping the stake at her neck, Dimitri attempted to hold her down while I grabbed hold of the chain.

  There was no time to think of a precise system. I just started wrapping it, first around her legs and then as best as I could around her torso, trying to lock her arms against her. Dimitri had bought a lot of chain, thankfully, and I hurriedly wrapped it around the chair in a crazy manner, doing everything I could to keep her down.

  When I finally ran out of chain, Sonya was pretty well locked into place. Was it something she could break out of? Absolutely. But with a silver stake against her? Not so easy. With both in place . . . well, we had her trapped for now. It was the best we could do.

  Dimitri and I exchanged brief, weary looks. I felt dizzy but fought through it, knowing our task was far from over.

  ʺTime for questioning,ʺ I said grimly.

  SEVENTEEN

  THE INTERROGATION DIDNʹT go so well.

  Oh, sure, we made plenty of threats and used the stakes as torture devices, but not much came of it. Dimitri was still scary when dealing with Sonya, but after his breakdown with Donovan, he was careful not to fall into that berserk rage again. This was healthier for him in the long run but not so good for scaring up answers out of Sonya. It didnʹt help matters that we didnʹt exactly have a concrete question to ask her. We mostly had a series to throw at her. Did she know about another Dragomir? Was she related to the mother? Where were the mother and child? Things also went bad when Sonya realized we needed her too much to kill her, no matter how much silver stake torture we did.

  Weʹd been at it for over an hour and were getting exhausted. At least, I was. I leaned against a wall near Sonya, and though I had my stake out and ready, I was relying on the wall a bit more than I liked to admit to keep me upright. None of us had spoken in a while. Even Sonya had given up on her snarling threats. She simply waited and stayed watchful, undoubtedly planning for escape, probably figuring weʹd tire before she did. That silence was scarier than all the threats in the world. I was used to Strigoi using words to intimidate me. Iʹd never expected the power simply being quiet and staring menacingly could have.