Last Sacrifice (6)

by Richelle Mead

ʺWhat?ʺ he asked, startled.

  ʺFighting. Everyone keeps talking about how dangerous you are. Is it true? Are you that good?ʺ

  Dimitri considered. ʺPretty good.ʺ

  I scoffed. ʺVery good.ʺ

  ʺI hope itʹs enough,ʺ said Sydney, reaching for the doorʹs handle.

  I opened my door as well. ʺArenʹt you going to ask about me?ʺ

  ʺI already know youʹre dangerous,ʺ she said. ʺIʹve seen it.ʺ

  Her compliment offered little comfort as we walked out across the rural parking lot. ʺWhyʹd we stop?ʺ

  ʺBecause we have to go on foot now.ʺ She turned on a flashlight and shone it along the lotʹs perimeter. At last, it flickered across a footpath snaking through the trees. The path was small and easy to miss because weeds and other plants were encroaching on it. ʺThere.ʺ She began to move toward it.

  ʺWait,ʺ said Dimitri. He moved in front of her, leading the way, and I immediately took up the back position in our group. It was a standard guardian formation. We were flanking her the way we would a Moroi. All earlier thoughts of Lissa flitted from my mind. My attention was totally on the situation at hand, all my senses alert to the potential danger. I could see Dimitri was in the same mode, both of us holding our stakes.

  ʺWhere are we going?ʺ I asked as we carefully avoided roots and holes along the path. Branches scraped along my arms.

  ʺTo people I guarantee wonʹt turn you in,ʺ she said, voice grim.

  More questions were on my lips when brilliant light suddenly blinded me. My eyes had grown attuned to the darkness, and the unexpected brightness was too abrupt a change. There was a rustling in the trees, a sense of many bodies around us, and as my vision returned, I saw vampire faces everywhere.

  NINE

  FORTUNATELY, THEY WERE MOROI FACES.

  That didnʹt stop me from raising my stake and moving closer to Sydney. No one was attacking us, so I held my position—not that it probably mattered. As I took in more and more of the setting, I saw that we were completely surrounded by about ten people. Weʹd told Sydney we were good, and it was true: Dimitri and I could probably take out a group like this, though the poor fighting quarters would make it difficult. I also realized the group wasnʹt entirely Moroi. The ones closest to us were, but around them were dhampirs. And the light Iʹd thought had come from torches or flashlights was actually coming from a ball of flame held in one of the Moroiʹs hands.

  One Moroi man stepped forward, about Abeʹs age, with a bushy brown beard and a silver stake in his hand. Some part of me noted the stake was crudely made compared to mine, but the point held the same threat. The manʹs gaze passed over me and Dimitri, and the stake lowered. Sydney became the object of the guyʹs scrutiny, and he suddenly reached out for her. Dimitri and I moved to stop him, but other hands reached out to stop us. I could have fought them but froze when Sydney let out a strangled, ʺWait.ʺ

  The bearded Moroi gripped her chin and turned her head so that the light fell on her cheek, lighting up the golden tattoo. He released his hold and stepped back.

  ʺLily-girl,ʺ he grunted.

  The others relaxed very slightly, though they kept their stakes poised and still looked ready to attack if provoked. The Moroi leader turned his attention from Sydney to Dimitri and me.

  ʺYouʹre here to join us?ʺ he asked warily.

  ʺWe need shelter,ʺ said Sydney, lightly touching her throat. ʺTheyʹre being chased by—by the Tainted.ʺ

  The woman holding the flame looked skeptical. ʺMore like spies for the Tainted.ʺ

  ʺThe Tainted Queen is dead,ʺ said Sydney. She nodded toward me. ʺThey think she did it.ʺ

  The inquisitive part of me started to speak but promptly shut up, wise enough to know this bizarre turn of events was best left in Sydneyʹs hands. I didnʹt understand what she was saying. When sheʹd said Tainted were pursuing us, I thought she was trying to make this group think we had Strigoi after us. Now, after sheʹd mentioned the queen, I wasnʹt so sure. I also wasnʹt so sure identifying me as a potential murderer was that smart. For all I knew, Brown Beard would turn me in and try to score a reward. From the looks of his clothes, he could have used one.

  To my surprise, this brought a smile to his face. ʺAnd so, another usurper passes on. Is there a new one yet?ʺ

  ʺNo,ʺ said Sydney. ʺTheyʹll have elections soon and choose.ʺ

  The groupʹs smiles were replaced by looks of disdain and disapproving mutters about elections. I couldnʹt help myself. ʺHow else would they choose a new king or queen?ʺ

  ʺIn the true way,ʺ said a nearby dhampir. ʺThe way it used to be, long ago. In a battle to the death.ʺ

  I waited for the punch line, but the guy was clearly serious. I wanted to ask Sydney what sheʹd gotten us into, but by this point, weʹd apparently passed inspection. Their leader turned and began walking down the path. The group followed, moving us along as they did. Listening to their conversation, I couldnʹt help a small frown—and not just because our lives might be on the line. I was intrigued by their accents. The motelʹs desk clerk had had a thick southern accent, exactly like youʹd expect in this part of the country. These guys, while sounding similar, had a few other pronunciations mixed in. It almost reminded me a little of Dimitriʹs accent.

  I was so tense and anxious that I could hardly focus on how long we walked. Eventually, the path led us to what seemed like a well-hidden campground. A huge bonfire blazed in a clearing with people sitting around. Yet, there were structures scattered off to one side, stretching into the woods along the now widened path. It wasnʹt quite a road yet, but it gave the illusion of a town, or at least a village. The buildings were small and shabby but appeared permanent. On the other side of the fire, the land rose sharply into the Appalachians, blocking out the stars. In the flickering light, I could see a mountainʹs face that was textured with rough stone and scattered trees, dotted here and there with dark holes.

  My attention moved back to the living. The crowd gathered around the fire—a couple dozen or so—fell silent as our escort led us in. At first, all I saw were numbers. That was the warrior in me, counting opponents and planning for attack. Then, just like I had earlier, I truly took in the faces. More Moroi mixed with dhampirs. And—I was shocked to discover—humans.

  These werenʹt feeders either. Well, not in the sense that I knew feeders. Even in the dark, I could see glimpses of bite marks along some of the humansʹ necks, but judging by their curious expressions, I could tell these people didnʹt give blood regularly. They werenʹt high. They were mixed in among the Moroi and dhampirs, sitting, standing, talking, engaging—the whole group clearly unified in some kind of community. I wondered if these humans were like the Alchemists. Maybe they had some sort of a business relationship with my kind.

  The tight formation around us began to spread out, and I moved closer to Sydney. ʺWhat in Godʹs name is all this?ʺ

  ʺThe Keepers,ʺ she said in a low voice.

  ʺKeepers? What does that mean?ʺ

  ʺIt means,ʺ said the bearded Moroi, ʺthat unlike your people, we still keep the old ways, the way we truly should.ʺ

  I eyed these ʺKeepersʺ in their worn clothes and the dirty, barefoot children. Reflecting upon how far we were from civilization—and based on how dark it was away from the fire—I was willing to bet they didnʹt have electricity. I was on the verge of saying that I didnʹt think this was how anyone should truly be living. Then, remembering the casual way these people had spoken about fights to the death, I decided to keep my views to myself.

  ʺWhy are they here, Raymond?ʺ asked a woman sitting by the fire. She was human but spoke to the bearded Moroi in a perfectly ordinary and familiar way. It wasnʹt the dreamy manner a feeder usually used with a Moroi. It wasnʹt even like the stilted conversations my kind had with the Alchemists. ʺAre they joining us?ʺ

  Raymond shook his head. ʺNo. The Tainted are after them for killing their queen.ʺ

  Sydney elbowed me before I could deny the claim. I clenched my teeth, waitin
g to be mobbed. Instead, I was surprised to find the crowd looking at me with a mix of awe and admiration, just as our welcoming party had.

  ʺWeʹre giving them refuge,ʺ explained Raymond. He beamed at us, though I didnʹt know if his approval came from us being murderers or if he simply liked the attention he was getting. ʺAlthough, you are welcome to join us and live here. We have room in the caves.ʺ

  Caves? I jerked my head toward the cliffs beyond the fire, realizing now what those black holes were. Even as I watched, a few people retiring for the night crawled off and disappeared into the dark depths of the mountain.

  Sydney answered while I worked to keep a look of horror off my face. ʺWe only need to stay here . . .ʺ She faltered, not surprising considering how sketchy our plans had become. ʺA couple days, probably.ʺ

  ʺYou can stay with my family,ʺ said Raymond. ʺEven you.ʺ That was directed toward Sydney, and he made it sound like quite the favor.

  ʺThank you,ʺ she said. ʺWeʹd be grateful to spend the night at your house.ʺ The emphasis on the last word was for me, I realized. The wooden structures along the dusty path didnʹt look luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but Iʹd take one over a cave any day.

  The village or commune or whatever was getting increasingly excited as our novelty sank in. They bombarded us with a flurry of questions, starting with ordinary things like our names but moving quickly on to specific details about how exactly Iʹd killed Tatiana.

  I was saved from having to answer when the human woman who had spoken to Raymond earlier jumped up and steered my threesome away. ʺEnough,ʺ she said, chastising the others. ʺItʹs getting late, and Iʹm sure our guests are hungry.ʺ

  I was starving, actually, but didnʹt know if I was in dire enough straits to eat opossum stew or whatever passed as food around here. The womanʹs proclamation was met with some disappointment, but she assured the others they could talk to us tomorrow. Glancing around, I saw a faint purpling of what must have been the eastern sky. Sunrise. A group of Moroi clinging to ʺtraditionalʺ ways would most certainly run on a nocturnal schedule, meaning these people probably only had a few more hours before bedtime.

  The woman said her name was Sarah and led us down the dusty path. Raymond called that heʹd see us soon. As we walked, we saw other people wandering near scattered, ramshackle homes, on their way to bed or possibly woken up with all the commotion. Sarah glanced over at Sydney.

  ʺDid you bring us anything?ʺ

  ʺNo,ʺ said Sydney. ʺIʹm just here to escort them.ʺ

  Sarah looked disappointed but nodded. ʺAn important task.ʺ

  Sydney frowned and appeared even more uneasy. ʺHow long has it been since my people brought you anything?ʺ

  ʺA few months,ʺ said Sarah after a momentʹs thought.

  Sydneyʹs expression darkened at this, but she said no more.

  Sarah finally took us inside one of the larger and nicer looking of the houses, though it was still plain and made of unpainted wooden boards. The inside was pitch black, and we waited as Sarah lit old-fashioned lanterns. Iʹd been right. No electricity. This suddenly made me wonder about plumbing.

  The floors were hardwood like the walls and covered in large, brightly patterned rugs. We appeared to be in some hybrid kitchen-living-dining room. There was a large fireplace in the center, a wooden table and chairs on one side, and large cushions on the other that I presumed served as sofas. Racks of drying herbs hung near the fireplace, filling the room with a spicy scent that mingled with the smell of burnt wood. There were three doors in the back wall, and Sarah nodded to one.

  ʺYou can sleep in the girlsʹ room,ʺ she said.

  ʺThanks,ʺ I said, not sure I really wanted to see what our guest accommodations were like. I was already missing the MOTEL. I studied Sarah curiously. She looked to be about Raymondʹs age and wore a plain, knee-length blue dress. Her blond hair was pulled back and tied at her neck, and she seemed short to me the way all humans did. ʺAre you Raymondʹs housekeeper?ʺ It was the only role I could deduce for her. She had a few bite marks but obviously wasnʹt a feeder. At least not a full-time one. Maybe around here, feeders doubled as household help.

  She smiled. ʺIʹm his wife.ʺ

  It was a mark of my self-control that I managed any sort of response. ʺOh.ʺ

  Sydneyʹs sharp eyes fell on me, a warning in them: Let it go. I again clenched my jaw shut and gave her a brief nod to let her know I understood.

  Except, I didnʹt understand. Dhampirs and Moroi hooked up all the time. Dhampirs had to. More permanent liaisons were scandalous—but not completely out of the realm of possibility.

  But Moroi and humans? That was beyond comprehension. Those races hadnʹt gotten together in centuries. Theyʹd produced dhampirs long ago, but as the modern world progressed, Moroi had completely withdrawn from intermingling (in an intimate way) with humans. We lived among them, sure. Moroi and dhampirs worked alongside humans out in the world, bought houses in their neighborhoods, and apparently had bizarre arrangements with secret societies like the Alchemists. And, of course, Moroi fed from humans—and that was the thing. If you kept a human close to you, it was because they were a feeder. That was your level of intimacy. Feeders were food, pure and simple. Well-treated food, yes, but not food you became friends with. A Moroi having sex with a dhampir? Racy. A Moroi having sex with a dhampir and drinking blood? Dirty and humiliating. A Moroi having sex with a human—with or without blood drinking? Incomprehensible.

  There were few things that shocked me or gave me offense. I was pretty liberal in my views when it came to romance, but the idea of human and Moroi marriage blew me away. It didnʹt matter if the human was a type of feeder—as Sarah appeared to be—or someone ʺaboveʺ that like Sydney. Humans and Moroi didnʹt get together. It was primitive and wrong, which was why it was no longer done. Well, at least not where I came from.

  Unlike your people, we still follow the old ways.

  The funny thing was that no matter how wrong I thought all this was, Sydney had to feel even more strongly about it with her vampire hang-ups. I supposed sheʹd been prepared, however, which is why she could manage that cool expression of hers. She hadnʹt been blindsided like Dimitri and me, because I felt with some certainty that he shared my feelings. He was just better at hiding surprise.

  A commotion at the door startled me out of my shock. Raymond had arrived and wasnʹt alone. A dhampir boy of about eight or so sat on his shoulders, and a Moroi girl about the same age scurried alongside them. A pretty Moroi woman who looked to be in her twenties followed, and behind her was a cute dhampir guy who couldnʹt have been more than a couple years older than me, if not exactly my age.

  Introductions followed. The children were Phil and Molly, and the Moroi woman was named Paulette. They all appeared to live there, but I couldnʹt exactly figure out the relationships, except for the guy my age. He was Raymond and Sarahʹs son, Joshua. He had a ready smile for all of us—especially me and Sydney—and eyes that reminded me of the piercing, crystalline blue of the Ozeras. Only, whereas Christianʹs family tended to have dark hair, Joshuaʹs was a sandy blond with lighter gold highlights. I had to admit, it was an attractive combination, but that stunned part of my brain reminded me again that heʹd been born from a human-Moroi hookup, not a dhampir and Moroi like me. The end product was the same, but the means were bizarre.

  ʺIʹm putting them in your room,ʺ Sarah told Paulette. ʺThe rest of you can share the loft.ʺ

  It took me a moment to realize ʺthe rest of youʺ meant Paulette, Joshua, Molly, and Phil. Glancing up, I saw there was indeed what looked like a loft space covering half the houseʹs width. It didnʹt look big enough for four people.

  ʺWe donʹt want to inconvenience you,ʺ said Dimitri, sharing my thoughts. Heʹd been silent for almost all of this wood-land adventure, saving his energy for actions, not words. ʺWeʹll be fine out here.ʺ

  ʺDonʹt worry about it,ʺ said Joshua, again giving me that pretty smile. ʺWe donʹt mind. Angeline wonʹt eithe
r.ʺ

  ʺWho?ʺ I asked.

  ʺMy sister.ʺ

  I repressed a grimace. Five of them crammed up there so that we could have a room. ʺThank you,ʺ said Sydney. ʺWe appreciate it. And we really wonʹt be staying long.ʺ Their dislike of the vampire world aside, Alchemists could be polite and charming when they chose.

  ʺToo bad,ʺ said Joshua.

  ʺStop flirting, Josh,ʺ said Sarah. ʺDo you three want something to eat before bed? I could warm up some stew. We had it earlier with some of Pauletteʹs bread.ʺ

  At the word stew, all my opossum fears came racing back. ʺNo need,ʺ I said hastily. ʺIʹd just be fine with bread.ʺ

  ʺMe too,ʺ said Dimitri. I wondered if he was trying to reduce their work or if he shared my food fears. Probably not the latter. Dimitri seemed like the kind of guy you could throw into the wilderness and he would survive off anything.

  Paulette had apparently baked a lot of bread, and they let us have a picnic in our small little room with a full loaf and a bowl of butter that Sarah had probably churned herself. The room was about the size of my dorm room at St. Vladimirʹs, with two down stuffed mattresses on the floor. Quilts neatly covered them, quilts that probably hadnʹt been used in months with these temperatures. Munching on a piece of bread that was surprisingly good, I ran my hand over one of the quilts.

  ʺIt reminds me of some of the designs I saw in Russia,ʺ I said.

  Dimitri studied the pattern too. ʺSimilar. But not quite the same.ʺ

  ʺItʹs the evolution of the culture,ʺ said Sydney. She was tired but not enough to abandon textbook mode. ʺTraditional Russian patterns brought over and eventually fused with a typical Americana patchwork quilt form.ʺ

  Whoa. ʺUm, good to know.ʺ The family had left us alone while they got ready for bed, and I eyed our cracked door warily. With the noise and activity out there, it seemed unlikely weʹd be overheard, but I lowered my voice anyway. ʺAre you ready to explain who the hell these people are?ʺ

  She shrugged. ʺThe Keepers.ʺ

  ʺYeah, I got that. And weʹre the Tainted. Sounds like a better name for Strigoi.ʺ