Last Sacrifice (6)

by Richelle Mead

  ʺI hope Adrian thinks so,ʺ I mused. ʺHe thinks me leaving our ‘safe houseʹ was the stupidest thing ever.ʺ

  Dimitriʹs hand dropped. ʺYou told him about all this?ʺ

  ʺNot about Jill. But I accidentally told him we werenʹt in West Virginia anymore. Heʹs kept it secret, though,ʺ I added hastily. ʺNo one else knows.ʺ

  ʺI can believe that,ʺ said Dimitri, though heʹd lost some of his earlier warmth. It was such a fleeting thing. ʺHe . . . he seems pretty loyal to you.ʺ

  ʺHe is. I trust him completely.ʺ

  ʺAnd he makes you happy?ʺ Dimitriʹs tone wasnʹt harsh, but there was an intensity to it that put the exchange on par with a police interrogation.

  I thought about my time with Adrian: the bantering, the parties, the games, and of course, the kissing. ʺYeah. He does. I have fun with him. I mean heʹs infuriating sometimes—okay, a lot of the time—but donʹt be fooled by all the vices. Heʹs not a bad person.ʺ

  ʺI know he isnʹt,ʺ said Dimitri. ʺHeʹs a good man. Itʹs not easy for everyone to see, but I can. Heʹs still getting himself together, but heʹs on his way. I saw it in the escape. And after . . .ʺ The words caught on Dimitriʹs tongue. ʺAfter Siberia, he was there for you? He helped you?ʺ

  I nodded, puzzled by all these questions. Turns out they were only the warm-up for the big one.

  ʺDo you love him?ʺ

  There were only a few people in the world who could ask me such insanely personal questions without getting punched. Dimitri was one of them. With us, there were no walls, but our complicated relationship made this topic surreal. How could I describe loving someone else to a man Iʹd once loved? A man you still love, a voice whispered inside my head. Maybe. Probably. Again, I reminded myself that it was natural to carry lingering feelings for Dimitri. They would fade. They had to fade, just like his had. He was the past. Adrian was my future.

  ʺYeah,ʺ I said, taking longer than I probably should have. ʺI . . . I do love him.ʺ

  ʺGood. Iʹm glad.ʺ The thing was, Dimitriʹs face didnʹt look all that glad as he stared blankly out the window. My confusion grew. Why was he upset? His actions and words no longer seemed to match lately.

  I approached him. ʺWhatʹs wrong?

  ʺNothing. I just want to make sure that youʹre okay. That youʹre happy.ʺ He turned back to me, putting on a forced smile. Heʹd spoken the truth—but not the whole truth. ʺThings have been changing, thatʹs all. Itʹs making me reconsider so much. Ever since Donovan . . . and then Sonya . . . itʹs strange. I thought it all changed the night Lissa saved me. But it didnʹt. Thereʹs been so much more, more to the healing than I realized.ʺ He started to slip into pensive mode but caught himself. ʺEvery day I figure out something new. Some new emotion Iʹd forgotten to feel. Some revelation I totally missed. Some beauty I didnʹt see.ʺ

  ʺHey, my hair in the alley does not go on that list, okay?ʺ I teased. ʺYou were in shock.ʺ

  The forced smile grew natural. ʺNo, Roza. It was beautiful. Itʹs beautiful now.ʺ

  ʺThe dress is just throwing you off,ʺ I said, attempting a joke. In reality, I felt dizzy under his gaze.

  Those dark, dark eyes looked at me—really looked at me, I think, for the first time since heʹd entered the room. A mixed expression came over him that made no sense to me. I could pick out the emotions it contained but not what caused them. Awe. Wonder. Sadness. Regret.

  ʺWhat?ʺ I asked uneasily. ʺWhy are you looking at me like that?ʺ

  He shook his head, the smile rueful now. ʺBecause sometimes, a person can get so caught up in the details that they miss the whole. Itʹs not just the dress or the hair. Itʹs you. Youʹre beautiful. So beautiful, it hurts me.ʺ

  I felt a strange fluttering sensation in my chest. Butterflies, cardiac arrest . . . it was hard to say what exactly. Yet, in that moment, I was no longer standing in the Mastrano guestroom. Heʹd said those words before, or something very close. So beautiful, it hurts me. It was back in the cabin at St. Vladimirʹs, the one and only time weʹd had sex. Heʹd looked at me in a very similar way, too, only thereʹd been less sadness. Nonetheless, as I heard those words again, a door Iʹd kept locked in my heart suddenly burst open, and with it came all the feelings and experiences and sense of oneness weʹd always shared. Looking at him, just for the space of a heartbeat, I had a surreal sensation wash over me, liked Iʹd known him forever. Like we were bound . . . but not in the way Lissa and I were, by a bond forced on us.

  ʺHey, guys, have you—oh.ʺ Sydney came to a halt in the half-open doorway and promptly took two steps back. ʺSorry. I—that is—ʺ

  Dimitri and I immediately pulled back from each other. I felt warm and shaky and only then noticed how close we had been. I didnʹt even remember moving, but only a breath had separated us. What had happened? It was like a trance. A dream.

  I swallowed and tried to slow my pulse. ʺNo problem. Whatʹs going on?ʺ

  Sydney glanced between us, still looking uncomfortable. Her dating life might be non-existent, but even she knew what sheʹd walked in on. I was glad one of us did. ʺI . . . that is . . . I just wanted to come hang out. I canʹt handle that going on downstairs.ʺ

  I attempted a smile, still utterly confused by my feelings. Why did Dimitri look at me like that? Why did he say that? He canʹt still want me. He said he didnʹt. He told me to leave him alone.

  ʺSure. We were just . . . talking,ʺ I said. She obviously didnʹt believe me. I tried harder to convince her . . . and myself. ʺWe were talking about Jill. Do you have any ideas on how to get her to Court—seeing as weʹre all outlaws?ʺ

  Sydney might not be an expert in personal relationships, but puzzles were familiar territory. She relaxed, her attention focusing inward as she tried to figure our problem out.

  ʺWell, you could always have her mother—ʺ

  A loud crashing from downstairs abruptly cut her off. As one, Dimitri and I sprang for the door, ready to combat whatever mess Victor and Robert had caused. We both came screeching to a halt at the top of the stairs when we heard lots of shouts for everyone to get down.

  ʺGuardians,ʺ Dimitri said. ʺThere are guardians raiding the house.ʺ

  TWENTY-FIVE

  WE COULD ALREADY HEAR footsteps thundering through the house and knew we were seconds from the army downstairs heading up to the second floor. The three of us backed away, and to my surprise, it was Sydney who reacted first.

  ʺGet out. Iʹll distract them.ʺ

  Her distracting them would probably just mean momentarily blocking their way until they pushed her aside, but those extra seconds could make a huge difference. Still, I couldnʹt stand the thought of abandoning her. Dimitri had no such reservations, particularly when we heard feet on the stairs.

  ʺCome on!ʺ he shouted, grabbing hold of my arm.

  We raced down the hall to the farthest bedroom, Victor and Robertʹs. Just before we entered, I yelled back to Sydney, ʺGet Jill to Court!ʺ I donʹt know if she heard because by the sounds of it, the guardians had reached her. Dimitri immediately opened the roomʹs one large window and looked at me knowingly. As always, we needed no vocal communication.

  He jumped out first, no doubt wanting to take the full brunt of whatever danger waited below. I immediately followed. I dropped onto the first floorʹs roof, slid down it, and then made the longer drop to the ground. Dimitri caught my arm, steadying my landing—but not before one of my ankles twisted slightly in on itself. It was the same one that had taken the brunt of the fall outside Donovanʹs, and I winced as pain shot through me, pain I then promptly ignored.

  Dark figures moved toward us, emerging from evening shadows and hidden spots around the backyard. Of course. Guardians wouldnʹt just come busting down a door. Theyʹd also have the place staked out. With our natural rhythm, Dimitri and I fought back-to-back against our attackers. Like usual, it was hard to incapacitate our foes without killing them. Hard, but necessary if we could manage it. I didnʹt want to kill my own people, people who were just doing their job to apprehend fugitiv
es. The long dress didnʹt do me any favors either. My legs kept getting caught in the fabric.

  ʺThe others will be out any minute,ʺ Dimitri grunted, slamming a guardian to the ground. ʺWe need to move—there. That gate.ʺ

  I couldnʹt respond but followed his lead as we made our way to a door in the fence while still defending ourselves. Weʹd just taken out the backyard squad when more spilled from the house. We slipped through the gate, emerging onto a quiet side road flanking the Mastrano house, and ran. It soon became clear, however, that I couldnʹt keep up with Dimitri. My mind could ignore the pain, but my body couldnʹt make my injured ankle work properly.

  Without missing a beat, Dimitri slid his arm around me, helping me run and take the weight off the ankle. We turned off the road, cutting through yards that would make it more difficult—but not impossible—for them to track us.

  ʺWe canʹt outrun them,ʺ I said. ʺIʹm slowing us down. You need to—ʺ

  ʺDo not say leave you,ʺ he interrupted. ʺWeʹre doing this together.ʺ

  Snick, snick. A flowerpot near us suddenly exploded into a pile of dirt and clay.

  ʺTheyʹre shooting at us,ʺ I said incredulously. ʺTheyʹre actually shooting at us!ʺ With so much hand-to-hand training, I always felt like guns were cheating. But when it came to hunting down a queen-killing murderer and her accomplice? Honor wasnʹt the issue. Results were.

  Another bullet zinged by, dangerously close. ʺWith a silencer,ʺ said Dimitri. ʺEven so, theyʹll be cautious. They donʹt want the neighborhood thinking itʹs under attack. We need cover. Fast.ʺ We mightʹve been literally dodging bullets, but my ankle wouldnʹt last much longer.

  He made another sharp turn, completely immersing us in suburban backyards. I couldnʹt look behind us, but I heard shouting voices that let me know we werenʹt free yet.

  ʺThere,ʺ said Dimitri.

  Ahead of us was a dark house with a large glass patio reminiscent of Sonyaʹs. The glass door was open, though a screen blocked the way inside. Dimitri tugged on its latch. Locked. But a screen was hardly a deterrent for us. Poor, trusting family. He took out his stake and slashed a long, vertical line that we hastily slipped through. Immediately, he jerked me to the side, out of view. He put a finger to his lips, holding me close to his body, shattering me in his warmth.

  Seconds later, we saw guardians coming through and searching the yards. Some kept moving on in case weʹd run farther. Others lingered, investigating places that made good hiding spots as the evening grew darker and darker. I glanced at the screen. The cut had been clean, not an obvious hole, but it was still something our pursuers might notice.

  Sensing this as well, Dimitri carefully moved off into the living room, doing his best to avoid windows and keep out of sight. We cut through to the kitchen and found a door leading to the garage. In the garage was a red Ford Mustang.

  ʺTwo car family,ʺ he murmured. ʺI was hoping for that.ʺ

  ʺOr theyʹre out for a walk and about to come home when they notice a SWAT team in their neighborhood,ʺ I whispered.

  ʺThe guardians wonʹt let themselves be seen.ʺ We began searching for obvious key locations. At last, I found a set hanging on the side of a cupboard and scooped them up.

  ʺGot ʹem,ʺ I said. Since I had the keys, I think Dimitri actually would have let me jump into the driverʹs seat. Thanks to my right ankle, however, I had to toss him the keys. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

  ʺWill they spot us in this?ʺ I asked, as Dimitri opened the garage door and backed out. ʺItʹs, uh, a bit flashier than our usual stolen car profile.ʺ It was also awesome. Sydney, car geek that she was, would have loved it. I bit my lip, still guilty that weʹd left her behind. I tried to push the thought out of my head for now.

  ʺIt is,ʺ agreed Dimitri. ʺBut other cars will be driving down the street. Some guardians will still be searching the yards, and some will be guarding the Mastranos. They donʹt have infinite numbers. They canʹt watch everything at once, though theyʹll certainly try.ʺ

  I held my breath anyway as we drove out of the subdivision. Twice, I thought I spotted stealthy figures by the side of the road, but Dimitri was right: they couldnʹt check every car in a busy suburban neighborhood. The darkness also obscured our faces.

  Dimitri remembered the way weʹd driven in because a few turns later, we were merging onto the freeway. I knew he had no destination in mind, except for away. With no obvious indications that weʹd been followed, I shifted my body and stretched out my throbbing leg. My chest had that light, nebulous feeling you got when too much adrenaline was pumping through you.

  ʺThey turned us in, didnʹt they?ʺ I asked. ʺVictor and Robert called us in and then took off. I should have kept watch.ʺ

  ʺI donʹt know,ʺ Dimitri said. ʺItʹs possible. I saw them just before I talked to you, and everything seemed fine. They wanted to go with us to find Jill, but they knew it was only a matter of time before we turned them over to the authorities. Iʹm not surprised they came up with an escape plan. They could have used the feeding as a distraction to call the guardians and get rid of us.ʺ

  ʺCrap.ʺ I sighed and pushed my hair back, wishing I had a ponytail holder. ʺWe shouldʹve gotten rid of them when we had the chance. Whatʹll happen now?ʺ

  Dimitri was silent for a few seconds. ʺThe Mastranos will be questioned . . . extensively. Well, all of them will, really. Theyʹll lock Sonya up for investigation, like me, and Sydney will be shipped back to the Alchemists.ʺ

  ʺAnd what will they do to her?ʺ

  ʺI donʹt know. But Iʹm guessing her helping vampire fugitives wonʹt go over well with her superiors.ʺ

  ʺCrap,ʺ I repeated. Everything had fallen apart. ʺAnd what are we going to do?ʺ

  ʺPut some distance between us and those guardians. Hide somewhere. Wrap up your ankle.ʺ

  I gave him a sidelong look. ʺWow. Youʹve got everything planned out.ʺ

  ʺNot really,ʺ he said, a small frown on his face. ʺThatʹs the easy stuff. What happens after that is going to be the hard part.ʺ

  My heart sank. He was right. Provided the Mastranos werenʹt indicted by Moroi authorities for helping criminals, Emily now had no one forcing her to acknowledge Jillʹs heritage. If Sydney was being hauled back to her own people—well. She couldnʹt help either. I was going to have to tell someone else, I realized. The next time I made contact with Adrian, Iʹd have to divulge the truth so that my friends could do something about Jill. We couldnʹt sit on this secret any longer.

  Dimitri took the next exit, and I tuned back into the world. ʺHotel?ʺ I asked.

  ʺNot quite,ʺ he said. We were in a busy, commercial area, not far from Ann Arbor, I thought. One of the Detroit suburbs. Restaurants and stores lined the road, and he turned us toward a twenty-four-hour superstore that promised to carry ʺeverything.ʺ He parked and opened his door. ʺStay here.ʺ

  ʺBut—ʺ

  Dimitri looked meaningfully at me, and I glanced down. Iʹd come away from our fight more scuffed up than I realized, and the dress had torn. My ragged appearance would attract attention, as would my limping. I nodded, and he left.

  I spent the time turning over our problems, cursing myself for not having found a way to turn in the brothers once Robert had restored Sonya. Iʹd been bracing myself for betrayal in the form of some magical attack. I hadnʹt expected something as simple as a call to the guardians.

  Dimitri, ever the efficient shopper, returned soon with two large bags and something slung over his shoulder. He tossed it all in the backseat, and I peered back curiously. ʺWhatʹs that?ʺ It was long and cylindrical, covered in canvas.

  ʺA tent.ʺ

  ʺWhy are we—ʺ I groaned. ʺNo hotel, huh?ʺ

  ʺWeʹll be harder to find at a campground. The car will especially be harder to find. We canʹt get rid of it quite yet, not with your foot.ʺ

  ʺThose poor people,ʺ I said. ʺI hope their car insurance covers theft.ʺ

  Back on the freeway, we soon left the urban sprawl, and it wasnʹt long before
we saw advertisements for campgrounds and RV parks. Dimitri pulled over at a place called Peaceful Pines. He negotiated with the man working in the office and produced a number of crisp bills. That was another reason we couldnʹt get a hotel, I realized. Most required credit cards, and Sydney had had all those (in fake names, of course). We were living off cash now.

  The clerk gave us directions along a gravel road that led to a spot on the opposite end of the campground. The place was busy with vacationing families, but no one paid much attention to us. Dimitri made sure to park as close to a cluster of trees as possible, in order to obscure the car and its plates. Despite my protests, he wouldnʹt let me help with the tent. He claimed he could do it faster without me and that I should stay off my feet. I started to argue until he began assembling the tent. My jaw dropped a little as I watched how quickly he put it together. He didnʹt even need the directions. It had to be some kind of record.

  The tent was small and sturdy, giving us both room to sit and lie, though he had to hunch just a little when we were sitting. Once inside, I got to see the rest of his purchases. A lot of it was first aid. There was also a flashlight he propped up, a kind of makeshift lamp.

  ʺLet me see the ankle,ʺ he ordered.

  I stretched out my leg, and he pushed my dressʹs skirt up to my knee, fingers light against my skin. I shivered as a sense of déjà vu swept me. It seemed to be happening to me a lot lately. I thought back to all the times he had helped me with other injuries. We could have been right back in St. Vladimirʹs gym. He gently tested the ankleʹs mobility and did a little poking and prodding. His fingers never ceased to amaze me. They could break a manʹs neck, bandage a wound, and slide sensually across bare skin.

  ʺI donʹt think itʹs broken,ʺ he said at last. He lifted his hands, and I noticed how warm Iʹd been while he touched me. ʺJust sprained.ʺ

  ʺThat kind of thing happens when you keep jumping off roofs,ʺ I said. Jokes were my old standby to hide discomfort. ʺYou know, we never practiced that in our training.ʺ

  He smiled and took out bandaging material, wrapping the ankle until it was supported and stabilized. After that, he produced—