Last Sacrifice (6)

by Richelle Mead

  After that, it was a matter of damage control. In order to keep the spirit users apart, Dimitri had taken Robert to the bedroom and left Victor with him. Robert seemed as worn out as Sonya, and Dimitri deemed the brothers safe enough to leave alone. Sonya collapsed on the couch, and after both Dimitri and I had tried to calm her down, we stepped away while Sydney held the Moroi womanʹs hand.

  I briefly recapped what had happened. Dimitriʹs face grew more and more incredulous as I did.

  ʺI told you it wasnʹt time!ʺ he exclaimed. ʺWhat were you thinking? Sheʹs too weak!ʺ

  ʺYou call that weak? And hey, I was doing fine! It wasnʹt until Victor and Robert got involved that things went to hell.ʺ

  Dimitri took a step toward me, anger radiating off him. ʺThey should never have gotten involved. This is you, acting irrational again, jumping in foolishly with no thought of the consequences.ʺ

  Outrage shot through me in return. ʺHey, I was trying to make progress here. If being rational is sitting around and doing therapy, then Iʹm happy to jump over the edge. Iʹm not afraid to get in the game.ʺ

  ʺYou have no idea what youʹre saying,ʺ he growled. We were standing closer now, hardly any space left between us as we engaged in our battle of wills. ʺThis may have set us back.ʺ

  ʺThis set us forward. We found out she knows about Eric Dragomir. The problem is she promised not to tell anyone about this baby.ʺ

  ʺYes, I promised,ʺ piped up Sonya. Dimitri and I turned as one, realizing our argument was fully visible and audible to Sonya and Sydney. ʺI promised.ʺ Her voice was very small and weak, pleading with us.

  Sydney squeezed her hand. ʺWe know. Itʹs okay. Itʹs okay to keep promises. I understand.ʺ

  Sonya looked at her gratefully. ʺThank you. Thank you.ʺ

  ʺBut,ʺ said Sydney carefully, ʺI heard that you care about Lissa Dragomir.ʺ

  ʺI canʹt,ʺ interrupted Sonya, turning fearful again.

  ʺI know, I know. But what if there was a way to help her without breaking your promise?ʺ

  Sonya stared at Sydney. Dimitri glanced at me questioningly. I shrugged and then stared at Sydney too. If someone had asked who could stage the best intervention with a crazy woman whoʹd formerly been an undead monster, Sydney Sage would have been my last guess.

  Sonya frowned, all attention on Sydney. ʺW-what do you mean?ʺ

  ʺWell . . . what did you promise exactly? Not to tell anyone that Eric Dragomir had a mistress and baby?ʺ

  Sonya nodded.

  ʺAnd not to tell who they were?ʺ

  Sonya nodded again.

  Sydney gave Sonya the warmest, friendliest smile Iʹd ever seen on the Alchemist. ʺDid you promise not to tell anyone where they are?ʺ Sonya nodded, and Sydneyʹs smile faltered a little. Then, her eyes lit up. ʺDid you promise not to lead anyone to where they are?ʺ

  Sonya hesitated, no doubt turning every word over in her mind. Slowly, she shook her head. ʺNo.ʺ

  ʺSo . . . you could lead us to them. But not tell us where they actually are. You wouldnʹt be breaking the promise that way.ʺ

  It was the most convoluted, ridiculous piece of logic Iʹd heard in a while. It was something I would have come up with.

  ʺMaybe . . .ʺ said Sonya, still uncertain.

  ʺYou wouldnʹt break the promise,ʺ Sydney repeated. ʺAnd it would really, really help Lissa.ʺ

  I stepped forward. ʺIt would help Mikhail too.ʺ

  Sonyaʹs mouth dropped open at the mention of her former lover. ʺMikhail? You know him?ʺ

  ʺHeʹs my friend. Heʹs Lissaʹs friend too.ʺ I almost said that if we found the missing Dragomir, we could then take Sonya to Mikhail. Recalling Dimitriʹs feelings of unworthiness, I decided to avoid that tactic just now. I didnʹt know how Sonya would react to a reunion with her beloved. ʺAnd he wants to help Lissa. But he canʹt. None of us can. We donʹt have enough information.ʺ

  ʺMikhail . . .ʺ Sonya looked down at her hands again, small tears running down her cheeks.

  ʺYou wonʹt break your promise.ʺ Sydney was so compelling she could have been a spirit user. ʺJust lead us. Itʹs what Mikhail and Lissa would want. Itʹs the right thing to do.ʺ

  I donʹt know which argument convinced Sonya the most. It could have been the part about Mikhail. Or it could have been the idea of doing ʺthe right thing.ʺ Maybe, like Dimitri, Sonya wanted redemption for her Strigoi crimes and saw this as a chance. Looking up, she swallowed and met my eyes.

  ʺIʹll lead you there,ʺ she whispered.

  ʺWeʹre going on another road trip,ʺ Sydney declared. ʺGet ready.ʺ

  Dimitri and I were still standing right next to each other, the anger between us beginning to diffuse. Sydney looked proud and continued trying her best to soothe Sonya.

  Dimitri looked down at me with a small smile that shifted slightly when he seemed to become aware of just how close we were. I couldnʹt say for sure, though. His face gave little away. As for me, I was very aware of our proximity and felt intoxicated by his body and scent. Damn. Why did fighting with him always increase my attraction to him? His smile returned as he tilted his head toward Sydney. ʺYou were wrong. She really is the new general in town.ʺ

  I smiled back, hoping he wasnʹt aware of my bodyʹs reaction to us standing so close. ʺMaybe. But, itʹs okay. You can still be colonel.ʺ

  He arched an eyebrow. ʺOh? Did you demote yourself? Colonelʹs right below general. Whatʹs that make you?ʺ

  I reached into my pocket and triumphantly flashed the CR-V keys Iʹd swiped when weʹd come back inside. ʺThe driver,ʺ I said.

  TWENTY-ONE

  I DIDNʹT GET TO DRIVE.

  ʺGeneralʺ Sydney didnʹt either, much to her outrage, though Dimitri did some fast-talking to explain why.

  It all started when Victor discovered his car was having ʺengine trouble.ʺ He wasnʹt very happy about that. He made no accusations, but I think everyone there—even Sonya and Robert—could guess the malfunction wasnʹt coincidental. This meant we all had to pile in the CR-V, which hadnʹt been designed to seat so many people—which was why Dimitri had come up with a creative seating plan. Of course, one of those ʺseatsʺ turned out to be the cargo space in the back. It was good-sized, but when Sydney learned it was her seat, she accused Dimitri of adding insult to the injury of taking her keys.

  I wouldnʹt tell her so, but putting her back there was a sound choice. Dimitriʹs seating chart was configured to minimize threats inside the car. Dimitri drove, with Robert going shotgun, and me between Victor and Sonya in the backseat. This put a guardian in each row, separated the brothers, and kept the spirit users apart too. When I argued that he and I could switch spots and still maintain the same security, Dimitri pointed out that having me at the wheel wouldnʹt be safe if I had to suddenly flip to Lissaʹs mind. It was a fair point. As for Sydney . . . well, she was neither a threat nor a fighting force, so she got offloaded to the back. And speaking of dead weight . . .

  ʺWe have got to get rid of Victor and Robert now,ʺ I murmured to Dimitri, as we loaded the CR-V with groceries and our meager luggage (further reducing Sydneyʹs space, much to her outrage). ʺTheyʹve done what we needed. Keeping them is dangerous. Itʹs time to turn them over to the guardians.ʺ The brothers wanted to continue on with us in order to find Lissaʹs sibling. We were letting them—but not out of generosity. We simply couldnʹt let them out of our sights yet.

  ʺAgreed,ʺ Dimitri said, frowning slightly. ʺBut thereʹs no good way to do it. Not yet. We canʹt leave them tied up beside the road; I wouldnʹt put it past them to escape and hitchhike. We also canʹt turn them in ourselves, for obvious reasons.ʺ

  I set a bag inside the car and leaned against the bumper. ʺSydney could turn them in.ʺ

  Dimitri nodded. ʺThatʹs probably our best bet—but I donʹt want to part with her until we get to . . . well, wherever weʹre going. We might need her help.ʺ

  I sighed. ʺAnd so, we drag them along.ʺ

  ʺAfraid so,ʺ he said. He gave me wary look. ʺYou know, when th
ey are in custody, thereʹs a very good chance theyʹll have quite a story to tell the authorities about us.ʺ

  ʺYeah.ʺ Iʹd been thinking about that too. ʺI guess thatʹs a problem for later. Gotta deal with the immediate problems first.ʺ

  To my surprise, Dimitri smiled at me. I would have expected some prudent, wise remark. ʺWell, thatʹs always been our strategy, hasnʹt it?ʺ he asked.

  I smiled in return, but it was short-lived, once we hit the road. Mercifully, Victor wasnʹt his usual annoying chatty self—which I suspected was because he was growing weak from lack of blood. Sonya and Robert had to be feeling the same way. This was going to be a problem if we didnʹt get a feeder soon, but I didnʹt know how we were going to pull that off. I had the impression Sydney hadnʹt realized any of this yet, which was just as well. Being a human among a group of hungry vampires would certainly make me nervous. She was actually probably safer sequestered in the back from everyone else.

  Sonyaʹs directions were vague and very need-to-know. She only gave us short-term information and often wouldnʹt warn about a turn until we were right on top of it. We had no idea where we were going or how long it would take. She scanned a map and then told Dimitri to go north on I-75. When we asked how long our trip would take, her response was: ʺNot long. A few hours. Maybe more.ʺ

  And with that mysterious explanation, she settled back in her seat and said no more. There was a haunted, pensive expression on her face, and I tried to imagine how she felt. Only a day ago sheʹd been Strigoi. Was she still processing what had happened? Was she seeing the faces of her victims as Dimitri had? Was she tormenting herself with guilt? Did she want to become Strigoi again?

  I left her alone. Now wasnʹt the time for therapy. I settled back, preparing myself to be patient. A tingle of consciousness suddenly sparked in the bond, shifting my attention inward. Lissa was awake. I blinked and looked at the dashboard clock. Afternoon for humans. The Moroi at Court should have been long asleep by now. But no, something had awakened her.

  Two guardians stood at her door, faces impassive. ʺYou have to come with us,ʺ one of them said. ʺItʹs time for the next test.ʺ

  Astonishment filled Lissa. Sheʹd known the next test was ʺcoming soonʺ but hadnʹt heard any further details since returning from the endurance test. That trip had taken place during the Moroi night too, but sheʹd at least had fair warning. Eddie stood nearby in her room, having replaced my mother as Lissaʹs protection a few hours ago. Christian sat up in Lissaʹs bed, yawning. They hadnʹt gotten hot and heavy, but Lissa liked having him around. Snuggling with her boyfriend while Eddie was in the room didnʹt seem as weird to her as it did when my mom was there. I didnʹt blame her.

  ʺCan I change?ʺ Lissa asked.

  ʺBe quick,ʺ said the guardian.

  She grabbed the first outfit she could and hurried to the bathroom, feeling confused and nervous. When she came out, Christian had pulled on his jeans already and was reaching for his T-shirt. Eddie meanwhile was sizing up the guardians, and I could guess his thoughts because I would have shared the same ones. This wakeup call seemed official, but he didnʹt know these guardians and didnʹt totally trust them.

  ʺCan I escort her?ʺ he asked.

  ʺOnly as far as the testing area,ʺ said the second guardian.

  ʺWhat about me?ʺ asked Christian.

  ʺOnly as far as the testing area.ʺ

  The guardiansʹ answers surprised me, but then, I realized it was probably common for monarch candidates to go to their tests with entourages—even unexpected tests in the middle of the night. Or maybe not so unexpected. The Courtʹs grounds were virtually deserted, but when her group reached their destination—a small, out of the way section of an old brick building—she had to pass several groups of Moroi lining the halls. Apparently, word had gotten out.

  Those gathered stepped aside respectfully. Some—probably advocates of other families—gave her scowls. But lots of other people smiled at her and called out about ʺthe dragonʹs return.ʺ A few even brushed their hands against her arms, as though taking luck or power from her. The crowd was much smaller than the one whoʹd greeted her after the first test. This eased her anxiety but didnʹt shake her earlier resolve to take the tests seriously. The faces of the onlookers shone with awe and curiosity, wondering if she might be the next to rule them.

  A doorway at the end of the hall marked the conclusion of her journey. Neither Christian nor Eddie needed to be told that this was as far as they could go. Lissa glanced at the two of them over her shoulder before following one of the guardians inside, taking comfort from her loved onesʹ supportive faces.

  After the epic adventure of the first test, Lissa expected something equally intimidating. What she found instead was an old Moroi woman sitting comfortably in a chair in a mostly empty room. Her hands were folded in her lap, holding something wrapped in cloth. The woman hummed, seeming very content. And when I say old, I mean she was old. Moroi could live until their early 100s, and this woman had clearly crossed that mark. Her pale skin was a maze of wrinkles, and her gray hair was wispy and thin. She smiled when she saw Lissa and nodded toward an empty chair. A small table sat beside it with a glass pitcher of water. The guardians left the women alone.

  Lissa glanced around her surroundings. There were no other furnishings, though there was a plain door opposite the one she had come through. She sat down and then turned toward the old woman. ʺHello,ʺ said Lissa, trying to keep her voice strong. ʺIʹm Vasilisa Dragomir.ʺ

  The womanʹs small smile grew, showing her yellowed teeth. One of her fangs was missing. ʺAlways such manners in your family,ʺ she croaked. ʺMost people come in here and demand we get down to business. But I remember your grandfather. He was polite during his test as well.ʺ

  ʺYou knew my grandfather?ʺ exclaimed Lissa. He had died when she was very, very young. Then, she picked up another meaning in the womanʹs words. ʺHe ran for king?ʺ

  The woman nodded. ʺPassed all his tests. I think he would have won the election, if he hadnʹt withdrawn at the last moment. After that, it was a coinʹs toss between Tatiana Ivashkov and Jacob Tarus. Very close, that one. The Taruses still hold a grudge.ʺ

  Lissa had never heard any of this. ʺWhyʹd my grandfather withdraw?ʺ

  ʺBecause your brother had just been born. Frederick decided he needed to devote his energy to his fledgling family, instead of a nation.ʺ

  Lissa could understand this. How many Dragomirs were there back then? Her grandfather, her father, and Andre—and her mother, but only by marriage. Eric Dragomir hadnʹt had any brothers or sisters. Lissa knew little about her grandfather, but in his place, she decided that she too would have rather spent time with her son and grandson, instead of listening to the endless speeches Tatiana had had to deal with.

  Lissaʹs mind had wandered, and the old woman was watching her carefully. ʺIs . . . this the test?ʺ asked Lissa, once the silence had gone on too long. ʺIs it, like, an interview?ʺ

  The old woman shook her head. ʺNo. Itʹs this.ʺ She unwrapped the object in her lap. It was a cup—a chalice or a goblet. Iʹm not sure which. But it was beautiful, made of silver that seemed to glow with its own light. Blood-red rubies were scattered along the sides, glittering with each turn of the cup. The woman regarded it fondly.

  ʺOver a thousand years old, and it still gleams.ʺ She took the pitcher and filled the chalice with water while Lissa and I processed the words. A thousand years? I was no metal expert, but even I knew silver should have tarnished in that time. The woman held out the cup to Lissa. ʺDrink from it. And when you want to stop, sayʹstop.ʹʺ

  Lissa reached for the cup, more confused than ever by the odd instructions. What was she supposed to stop? Drinking? As soon as her fingers touched the metal, she understood. Well, kind of. A tingle ran through her, one she knew well.

  ʺThis is charmed,ʺ she said.

  The old woman nodded. ʺInfused with all four elements and a spell long since forgotten.ʺ

  Charmed with spirit too, tho
ught Lissa. That too must have been forgotten, and it put her on edge. Elemental charms had different effects. Earth charms—like the tattoo sheʹd been given—were often tied with minor compulsion spells. The combination of all four in a stake or ward provided a unified blast of life that blocked the undead. But spirit . . . well, she was quickly learning that spirit charms covered a wide range of unpredictable effects. The water no doubt activated the spell, but Lissa had a feeling that spirit was going to be the key player. Even though it was the power that burned in her blood, it still scared her. The spell woven into this cup was complex, far beyond her skills, and she feared what it would do. The old woman stared unblinkingly.

  Lissa hesitated only a moment more. She drank.

  The world faded away, then rematerialized into something completely different. She and I both recognized what this was: a spirit dream.

  She no longer stood in the plain room. She was outdoors, wind whipping her long hair in front of her face. She brushed it aside as best she could. Other people stood around her, all of them in black, and she soon recognized the Courtʹs church and graveyard. Lissa herself wore black, along with a long wool coat to protect against the chill. They were gathered around a grave, and a priest stood near it, his robes of office offering the only color on that gray day.

  Lissa took a few steps over, trying to see whose name was on the tombstone. What she discovered shocked me more than her: ROSEMARIE HATHAWAY.

  My name was carved into the granite in regal, elaborate font. Below my name was the star of battle, signifying that Iʹd killed more Strigoi than could be counted. Go me. Beneath that were three lines of text in Russian, Romanian, and English. I didnʹt need the English translation to know what each line said because it was standard for a guardianʹs grave: ʺEternal Service.ʺ

  The priest spoke customary funeral words, giving me the blessings of a religion I wasnʹt sure I believed in. That was the least weird thing here, however, seeing as I was watching my own funeral. When he finished, Alberta took his place. Lauding the deceasedʹs achievements was also normal at a guardianʹs funeral—and Alberta had plenty to say about mine. Had I been there, I would have been moved to tears. She concluded by describing my last battle, how Iʹd died defending Lissa.