ʺSheʹs still pretty obedient,ʺ Dimitri remarked. ʺI donʹt know her well, but Iʹm pretty sure Abeʹs got something on her.ʺ
ʺHe got her out of Russia, back to the U.S.ʺ
He shook his head. ʺItʹs got to be more than that. Alchemists are loyal to their order. They donʹt like us. She hides it—theyʹre trained to—but every minute with the Keepers is agony. For her to help us and betray her superiors, she owes him for some serious reason.ʺ We both paused a moment, wondering what mysterious arrangement my father had with her. ʺIt′s irrelevant, though. Sheʹs helping us, which is what matters . . . and we should probably get back to her.ʺ
I knew he was right but hated to go. I wanted to stay here, in this illusion of tranquility and safety, letting myself believe I might really make it to the Parthenon or even the Corn Palace someday. I handed the book back to him. ʺOne more.ʺ
He picked his random page and opened the book. His smile fell. ʺSaint Petersburg.ʺ
A weird mix of feelings entangled themselves in my chest. Nostalgia—because the city was beautiful. Sorrow—because my visit had been tainted by the awful task Iʹd gone there to do.
Dimitri stared at the page for a long time, wistfulness on his face. It occurred to me then that, despite his earlier pep talk, he had to be experiencing what I did for Montana: our old, favorite places were lost to us now.
I nudged him gently. ʺHey, enjoy where youʹre at, remember? Not where you canʹt go.ʺ
He reluctantly shut the book and dragged his eyes away from it. ʺHowʹd you get so wise?ʺ he teased.
ʺI had a good teacher.ʺ We smiled at each other. Something occurred to me. All this time, Iʹd figured heʹd helped break me out because of Lissaʹs orders. Maybe there was more to it. ʺIs that why you escaped with me?ʺ I asked. ʺTo see what parts of the world you could?ʺ
His surprise was brief. ʺYou donʹt need me to be wise, Rose. Youʹre doing fine on your own. Yes, that was part of it. Maybe I would have been welcomed back eventually, but there was the risk I wouldnʹt. After . . . after being Strigoi . . .ʺ He stumbled over the words a little. ʺI gained a new appreciation for life. It took a while. Iʹm still not there. Weʹre talking about focusing on the present, not the future—but itʹs my past that haunts me. Faces. Nightmares. But the farther I get from that world of death, the more I want to embrace life. The smell of these books and the perfume you wear. The way the light bends through that window. Even the taste of breakfast with the Keepers.ʺ
ʺYouʹre a poet now.ʺ
ʺNo, just starting to realize the truth. I respect the law and the way our society runs, but there was no way I could risk losing life in some cell after only just finding it again. I wanted to run too. Thatʹs why I helped you. That and—ʺ
ʺWhat?ʺ I studied him, desperately wishing he wasnʹt so good at keeping emotions off his face. I knew him well; I understood him. But he could still hide things from me.
He sat up, not meeting my eyes. ʺIt doesnʹt matter. Letʹs go back to Sydney and see if she found out anything . . . although, as much as I hate to say it, I think itʹs unlikely.ʺ
ʺI know.ʺ I stood with him, still wondering what else he would have said. ʺShe probably gave up and started playing Minesweeper.ʺ
We headed back toward the café, stopping briefly for ice cream. Eating it while we walked proved quite the challenge. The sun was nearing the horizon, painting everything orange and red, but the heat lingered. Enjoy it, Rose, I told myself. The colors. The taste of chocolate. Of course, Iʹd always loved chocolate. My life didnʹt need to be on the line for me to enjoy dessert.
We reached the café and found Sydney bent over her laptop, with a barely eaten Danish and what was probably her fourth cup of coffee. We slid into seats beside her.
ʺHow′s it—hey! You are playing Minesweeper!ʺ I tried to peer closer at her screen, but she turned it from me. ʺYouʹre supposed to be finding a connection to Ericʹs mistress.ʺ
ʺI already did,ʺ she said simply.
Dimitri and I exchanged astonished looks.
ʺBut I donʹt know how useful itʹll be.ʺ
ʺAnythingʹll be useful,ʺ I proclaimed. ʺWhat did you find?ʺ
ʺAfter trying to track down all those bank records and transactions—and let me tell you, that is not fun at all—I finally found a small piece of info. The bank account we have now is a newer one. It was moved from another bank about five years ago. The old account was still a Jane Doe, but it did have a next-of-kin reference in the event something happened to the account holder.ʺ
I could hardly breathe. Financial transactions were lost on me, but we were about to get something solid. ʺA real name?ʺ
Sydney nodded. ʺSonya Karp.ʺ
TWELVE
DIMITRI AND I BOTH FROZE as the shock of that name hit us. Sydney, glancing between our faces, gave us a dry smile.
ʺI take it you know who that is?ʺ
ʺOf course,ʺ I exclaimed. ʺShe was my teacher. She went crazy and turned Strigoi.ʺ
Sydney nodded. ʺI know.ʺ
My eyes widened further. ʺShe′s not . . . sheʹs not the one who had an affair with Lissaʹs dad, is she?ʺ Oh dear God. That would be one of the most unexpected developments in the rollercoaster that was my life. I couldnʹt even begin to process the effects of that.
ʺNot likely,ʺ she said. ʺThe account was opened several years before she was added as the beneficiary—which was right when she turned eighteen. So, if weʹre assuming the account was created around the time the baby was born, then she would have been way too young. Sonyaʹs probably a relative.ʺ
My earlier astonishment was giving way to excitement, and I could see the same thing happening to Dimitri. ʺYou must have records about her family,ʺ he said. ʺOr if not, some Moroi probably does. Whoʹs close to Sonya? Does she have a sister?ʺ
Sydney shook her head. ʺNo. Thatʹd be an obvious choice, though. Unfortunately, she has other family—tons of it. Her parents both came from giant families, so she has lots of cousins. Even some of her aunts are the right age.ʺ
ʺWe can look them up, right?ʺ I asked. A thrill of anticipation was running through me. I honestly hadnʹt expected this much information. True, it was small, but it was something. If Sonya Karp was related to Ericʹs mistress, that had to be something we could track.
ʺThereʹs a lot of them.ʺ Sydney shrugged. ʺI mean, yeah, we could. Itʹd take a long time to find everyoneʹs life history, and even then—especially if this was covered up enough—weʹd have a hard time finding out if any of them is the woman weʹre looking for. Or even if any of them know who she is.ʺ
Dimitriʹs voice was low and thoughtful when he spoke. ʺOne person knows who Jane Doe is.ʺ
Sydney and I both looked at him expectantly.
ʺSonya Karp,ʺ he replied.
I threw up my hands. ʺYeah, but we canʹt talk to her. Sheʹs a lost cause. Mikhail Tanner spent over a year hunting her and couldnʹt find her. If he canʹt, then weʹre not going to be able to.ʺ
Dimitri turned away from me and stared out the window. His brown eyes filled with sorrow, his thoughts momentarily far away from us. I didnʹt entirely understand what was happening, but that peaceful moment in the library—where Dimitri had smiled and shared in the daydream of an ordinary life—had vanished. And not just the moment. That Dimitri had vanished. He was back in his fierce mode, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders again. At last, he sighed and looked back at me. ʺThatʹs because Mikhail didnʹt have the right connections.ʺ
ʺMikhail was her boyfriend,ʺ I pointed out. ʺHe had more connections than anyone else.ʺ
Dimitri didnʹt acknowledge my comment. Instead, he grew pensive again. I could see turmoil behind his eyes, some inner war. At last, it must have been decided.
ʺDoes your phone have reception out here?ʺ he asked her.
She nodded, reaching into her purse and handing him her phone. He held it a moment, looking like it caused him total agony to touch it. At last, with another sigh, he stood up and h
eaded for the door. Sydney and I exchanged questioning looks and then both followed him. She lagged behind me, having to toss cash on the table and grab her laptop. I emerged outside just as Dimitri finished dialing a number and put the phone to his ear. Sydney joined us, and a moment later, the person on the other end of the line must have answered.
ʺBoris?ʺ asked Dimitri.
That was all I understood because the rest was a string of rapid Russian. A strange sensation spread over me as he spoke. I was confused, lost because of the language . . . but there was more than that. I felt chilled. My pulse raced with fear. That voice . . . I knew that voice. It was his voice and yet not his voice. It was the voice of my nightmares, a voice of coldness and cruelty.
Dimitri was playing Strigoi.
Well, ʺplayingʺ was really too gentle of a word. Pretending was a better way to describe it. Whatever it was, it was pretty damned convincing.
Beside me, Sydney frowned, but I didnʹt think she was experiencing what I was. She had never known him as Strigoi. She didnʹt have those horrible memories. His change in demeanor had to be obvious, but as I glanced at her face, I realized she was focused on following the conversation. Iʹd forgotten she knew Russian.
ʺWhatʹs he saying?ʺ I whispered.
Her frowned deepened, either from the conversation or me distracting her. ʺHe . . . he sounds like heʹs talking to someone he hasnʹt spoken to in a while. Dimitriʹs accusing this person of slacking off while heʹs been away.ʺ She fell silent, continuing her own mental translation. At one point, Dimitriʹs voice rose in anger, and both Sydney and I flinched. I turned to her questioningly. ʺHeʹs mad about having his authority questioned. I canʹt tell, but now . . . it sounds like the other personʹs groveling.ʺ
I wanted to know every word, but it had to be hard for her to translate to me and listen at the same time. Dimitriʹs voice returned to normal levels—though still filled with that terrible menace—and among the flurry of words, I heard ʺSonya Karpʺ and ʺMontana.ʺ
ʺHeʹs asking about Ms. Kar—Sonya?ʺ I murmured. She hadnʹt been my teacher for a long time. I might as well call her Sonya now.
ʺYeah,ʺ said Sydney, eyes still on Dimitri. ʺHeʹs asking—er, telling—this person to locate someone else and see if he can find Sonya. This person . . .ʺ She paused to listen again. ʺThis person heʹs asking about sounds like he knows a lot of people in the area she was last seen in.ʺ
I knew ʺpeopleʺ in this context meant ʺStrigoi.ʺ Dimitri had risen quickly in their ranks, asserting his will and power over others. Most Strigoi operated solo, rarely working in groups, but even the lone ones recognized threats and more dominant Strigoi. Dimitri was working his contacts, just as heʹd said earlier. If any Strigoi had heard about his transformation—and believed it—they wouldnʹt have been able to pass the news quickly, not with their disorganization. As it was, Dimitri was already having to play leapfrog to find sources who knew other sources who might know Sonyaʹs location.
Dimitri grew loud and angry again, his voice becoming—if possible—more sinister. I suddenly felt trapped, and even Sydney looked scared now. She swallowed.
ʺHeʹs telling this guy that if he doesnʹt get answers by tomorrow night, Dimitriʹs going to find him and rip him apart and . . .ʺ Sydney didnʹt bother finishing. Her eyes were wide. ʺUse your imagination. Itʹs pretty terrible.ʺ I decided then that I was kind of glad I hadnʹt heard all of the conversation in English.
When Dimitri finished the call and returned Sydneyʹs phone, that mask of malice melted from his face. Once again, he was my Dimitri, Dimitri the dhampir. Dejection and despair radiated off him, and he slumped against the caféʹs wall, staring upward into the sky. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to calm himself, seize control of the emotions that had to be warring within him. Heʹd just done something that might give us clues we needed . . . but it had been at a terrible cost to himself. My fingers twitched. I wanted to put a comforting arm around him or at least pat his shoulder so heʹd know he wasnʹt alone. But, I held back, suspecting he wouldnʹt like it.
At last, he turned his gaze back to us. Heʹd regained his control—at least on the outside. ʺIʹve sent someone to ask about her,ʺ he said wearily. ʺIt might not work out. Strigoi are hardly the type to keep a database. But they do occasionally keep an eye on one another, if only for their own self-preservation. Weʹll find out soon if there are any hits.ʺ
ʺI . . . wow. Thank you,ʺI said, fumbling at the words. I knew he needed no thanks, but it felt necessary to me.
He nodded. ʺWe should get back to the Keepers . . . unless you think this is a safe place to stay?ʺ
ʺIʹd rather stay off civilized radar,ʺ said Sydney, moving toward the truck. ʺBesides, I want my car keys back.ʺ
The ride back felt ten times longer. Dimitriʹs mood filled up the whole cabin, almost suffocating us with its despair. Even Sydney could feel it. Sheʹd let him drive again, and I couldnʹt decide if that was a good or bad thing. Would the road distract him from his Strigoi torment? Or would his agony distract him from the road and put us off in a ditch?
Fortunately, we made it back safe and sound and found two of the Keepers waiting for us in the lot, a Moroi woman and a human guy who both looked fierce. I still couldnʹt shake the strangeness of both races being battle-ready. I wondered if these two were a couple.
Back in the camp, we found the communal bonfire ablaze and people sitting out around it, some eating and some just socializing. Iʹd learned at breakfast that the fire was always there for those who wanted to bond but that plenty of families kept to their own households as well.
We went back to Raymondʹs house, but only Sarah and Joshua were there. She was cleaning up dishes, and he sat restlessly in a chair. As soon as he caught sight of me at the door, he sprang up, radiant smile on high-beam again.
ʺRose! Youʹre back. We were starting to worry . . . I mean, not that anything had happened to you—not with your skills—but that maybe youʹd just left us.ʺ
ʺNot without our car,ʺ said Sydney, placing the truck keys on the table. The CR-V′s were sitting there already, and relief flooded her face as she snatched them up.
Sarah offered us leftovers, which we declined, having stocked up on snack food at Rubysvilleʹs gas station. ʺWell,ʺ she said, ʺif youʹre not going to eat, you might as well join the others out at the fire. Jess McHale might sing tonight if they can get her to drink enough, and drunk or sober, that woman has the finest voice Iʹve ever heard.ʺ
I briefly met Dimitri and Sydneyʹs eyes. I admit, I was a little curious to see how this wilderness group partied it up, even though moonshine and folk songs werenʹt really my first choice of entertainment. Dimitri still wore that haunted look from the phone call.
I had a suspicion he would have been content to isolate himself in our room, but when Sydney said sheʹd go to the fire, his response came automatically: ʺIʹll go too.ʺ I knew instantly what he was doing. His Strigoi days tormented him. Talking to Strigoi tormented him. And maybe—no, certainly—he wanted to hide away and try to block it all out, but he was Dimitri. Dimitri protected those who needed it, and even if listening to fireside songs wasnʹt exactly life-threatening, it was still a semi-dangerous situation for a civilian like Sydney. He couldnʹt allow that. Plus, he knew Sydney would feel safer with both of us nearby.
I started to say Iʹd join them, but Joshua spoke before I could. ʺDo you still want to see my cave? Thereʹs a little light left outside. Youʹll get a better view that way than if we have to use a torch.ʺ
Iʹd forgotten about my last conversation with Joshua and started to decline his offer. But then, something flashed in Dimitriʹs eyes, something disapproving. So. He didnʹt want me going off with some young, good-looking guy. Was it legitimate concern about the Keepers? Was it jealousy? No, surely not the latter. Weʹd established—many, many times—that Dimitri wanted no romantic connection with me. Heʹd even stood up for Adrian earlier. Was this some kind of ex-boyfriend thing? Back in Rubysville, Iʹd be
lieved Dimitri and I could be friends, but that wouldnʹt happen if he thought he could control me and my love life. Iʹd known girls with exes like that. I wouldnʹt be one. I could hang out with whomever I wanted.
ʺSure,ʺ I said. Dimitriʹs expression darkened. ʺIʹd love to.ʺ
Joshua and I headed off, leaving the others behind. I knew part of my decision was to prove my independence. Dimitri had said we were equals, yet heʹd made an awful lot of decisions in this escape plan without me. It was nice to feel like I had the upper hand for a change, and besides, I liked Joshua and was kind of curious to learn more about how his people lived. I donʹt think Sydney wanted me to leave, but Dimitri would look after her.
As Joshua and I walked, we passed plenty of Keepers out and about. Just like earlier, I received a fair amount of stares. Rather than lead us down the road to where his father lived, Joshua took me around the small mountain. It was still good-sized, but after living near the Rockies, everything in the Appalachians seemed ʺsmallʺ to me. I guess I was a mountain snob.
Still, the mountain extended quite a ways, and we moved farther and farther from the Keepersʹ main settlement. The forest grew thicker, the light growing scarce as the sun finally began sinking into the horizon.
ʺIʹm kind of on the outskirts,ʺ Joshua said apologetically. ʺWe keep growing and growing, and thereʹs not much room in the townʹs center.ʺ I thought ʺtownʺ was an optimistic term but didnʹt say so. Yeah. I was definitely a snob. ʺBut the caves keep going, so thereʹs still space.ʺ
ʺAre they natural?ʺ I asked.
ʺSome are. Some are abandoned mining caves.ʺ
ʺItʹs pretty out here,ʺ I said. I liked all the deciduous trees. I might be homesick for Montana, but the wide leaves here were a neat contrast to pine needles. ʺAnd hey, at least you get lots of privacy, right?ʺ
ʺTrue.ʺ He smiled. ʺI figured youʹd think it was . . . I donʹt know. Too rustic. Or savage. You probably think we all are.ʺ
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