Last Sacrifice (6)

by Richelle Mead

  ʺWe have to,ʺ I said. ʺThis is serious.ʺ

  Emily turned to Sonya. ʺYou promised! You promised you wouldnʹt tell!ʺ

  ʺI didnʹt,ʺ said Sonya, but her face wore its earlier doubt.

  ʺShe didnʹt,ʺ I said firmly, hoping to reassure them both. ʺItʹs hard to explain . . . but she kept her promise.ʺ

  ʺNo,ʺ repeated Emily. ʺThis isnʹt happening. We cannot talk about this.ʺ

  ʺWhat . . . whatʹs going on?ʺ demanded John. Anger kindled in his eyes. He didnʹt like seeing strangers upset his wife.

  I directed my words to Emily. ʺWe have to talk about this. Please. We need your help. We need her help.ʺ I gestured to Jill.

  ʺWhat do you mean?ʺ asked Jill. That earlier eager spark was gone, cooled by her motherʹs reaction.

  ʺItʹs about your—ʺ I came to a stop. Iʹd rushed into this, ready to find Lissaʹs sibling—her sister, we now knew—with little thought of the implications. I should have known this would be a secret from everyone—including the child in question. I hadnʹt considered what a shock this would be to her. And this wasnʹt just some random stranger. This was Jill. Jill. My friend. The girl who was like a little sister to all of us, the one we looked out for. What was I about to do to her? Looking at John, I realized things were worse still. Did Jill think he was her father? This family was about to be shaken to its core—and I was responsible.

  ʺDonʹt!ʺ cried Emily, jumping up again. ʺGet out! All of you! I donʹt want you here!ʺ

  ʺMrs. Mastrano . . .ʺ I began. ʺYou canʹt pretend this isnʹt real. You have to face it.ʺ

  ʺNo!ʺ she pointed to the door. ʺGet out! Get out, or Iʹll . . . Iʹll call the police! Or the guardians! You . . .ʺ Realization flashed over her now that the initial shock of seeing Sonya had faded. Victor wasnʹt the only criminal Moroi would be on guard for. ʺYouʹre a fugitive! A murderer!ʺ

  ʺShe is not!ʺ said Jill, leaning forward. ʺI told you, Mom. I told you before it was a mistake—ʺ

  ʺGet out,ʺ repeated Emily.

  ʺSending us away wonʹt change the truth,ʺ I said, forcing myself to stay calm.

  ʺWill someone please tell me what the hell is going on?ʺ Johnʹs face was flushed red, angry and defensive. ʺIf I donʹt have an answer within thirty seconds, Iʹm calling the guardians and the police.ʺ

  I looked over at Jill and couldnʹt speak. I didnʹt know how to say what I needed to, at least not tactfully. Sydney, however, didnʹt have that problem.

  ʺHeʹs not your father,ʺ she said bluntly, pointing at John.

  There was a slight pause in the room. Jill almost looked disappointed, like sheʹd hoped for more exciting news.

  ʺI know that. Heʹs my stepdad. Or, well, my dad as far as Iʹm concerned.ʺ

  Emily sank back on the couch, burying her face in her hands. She seemed to be crying, but I was pretty sure she could jump up at any moment and call the authorities. We had to get through this fast, no matter how painful.

  ʺRight. Heʹs not your biological father,ʺ I said, looking steadily at Jill. The eyes. How had I never noticed the eyes? ʺEric Dragomir is.ʺ

  Emily made a low keening sound. ʺNo,ʺ she begged. ʺPlease donʹt do this.ʺ

  Johnʹs anger morphed back to the confusion that seemed to be so in fashion in this room. ʺWhat?ʺ

  ʺThat . . . no.ʺ Jill slowly shook her head. ʺThatʹs impossible. My father was just . . . just some guy who ran out on us.ʺ

  In some ways, that wasnʹt far from the truth, I supposed. ʺIt was Eric Dragomir,ʺ I said. ʺYouʹre part of their family. Lissaʹs sister. Youʹre . . .ʺ I startled myself, realizing I had to look at Jill in a whole new way. ʺYouʹre royalty.ʺ

  Jill was always full of energy and optimism, operating in the world with a naive hope and charm. But now her face was grim and sober, making her look older than her fifteen years. ʺNo. This is a joke. My dad was a lowlife. Iʹm not . . . no. Rose, stop.ʺ

  ʺEmily.ʺ I flinched at the sound of Sonyaʹs voice, surprised to hear her speak. I was more surprised at her expression. Authoritative. Serious. Determined. Sonya was younger than Emily by—what? Ten years, if I had to guess. But Sonya had fixed her cousin with a stare that made Emily look like a naughty child. ʺEmily, itʹs time to give this up. You have to tell her. For Godʹs sake, you have to tell John. You canʹt keep this buried anymore.ʺ

  Emily looked up and met Sonyaʹs eyes. ʺI canʹt tell. You know what will happen . . . I canʹt do that to her.ʺ

  ʺNone of us know what will happen,ʺ said Sonya. ʺBut things will get worse if you donʹt take control now.ʺ

  After a long moment, Emily finally looked away, staring at the floor. The sad, sad look on her face broke my heart. And not just mine.

  ʺMom?ʺ asked Jill, voice trembling. ʺWhatʹs happening? This is all a big mix-up, right?ʺ

  Emily sighed and looked up at her daughter. ʺNo. You are Eric Dragomirʹs daughter. Rose is right.ʺ John made a small, strangled sound but didnʹt interrupt his wife. She squeezed his hand again. ʺWhat I told you both over the years . . . it was true. Mostly. We did just have a brief . . . relationship. Not a cheap one, exactly. But brief.ʺ She paused and glanced over at John this time, her expression softening. ʺI told you . . .ʺ

  He nodded. ʺAnd I told you the past didnʹt matter to me. Never affected how I felt about you, about Jill. But I never imagined . . .ʺ

  ʺMe neither,ʺ she agreed. ʺI didnʹt even know who he was when we first met. It was back when I lived in Las Vegas and had my first job, dancing in a show at the Witching Hour.ʺ

  I felt my eyes go wide. No one seemed to notice. The Witching Hour. My friends and I had been to that casino while hunting for Robert, and a man there had made a joke about Lissaʹs father being interested in showgirls. I knew Emily worked in a Detroit ballet company now; it was why they lived in Michigan. Never would I have guessed that sheʹd started as a feather-and-sequin-clad dancer in a Las Vegas show. But why not? She would have had to start somewhere, and her tall, graceful frame would lend itself well to any type of dancing.

  ʺHe was so sweet . . . and so sad,ʺ Emily continued. ʺHis father had just died, and heʹd come to sort of drown his sorrows. I understood how a death would devastate him, but now . . . well, I really understand. It was another loss to his family. The numbers were dropping.ʺ She frowned thoughtfully and then shrugged. ʺHe was a good man, and I think he truly loved his wife. But he was in a dark, low place. I donʹt think he was using me. He cared about me, though I doubt what happened between us would have in other circumstances. Anyway, I was fine with the way things ended and was content to move on with my life . . . until Jill came along. I contacted Eric because I thought he should know—though I made it clear I didnʹt expect anything from him. And at that point, knowing who he was, I didnʹt want anything. If Iʹd let him, I think he would have acknowledged you, had a role in your life.ʺ Emilyʹs eyes were on Jill now. ʺBut Iʹve seen what that world is like. Court life is politics and lies and backstabbing. In the end, the only thing Iʹd accept from him was money. I still didnʹt want that. I didnʹt want to feel like I was blackmailing him—but I did want to make sure your future was secure.ʺ

  I spoke without thinking. ʺYou donʹt really live like youʹre using that money.ʺ I regretted the words as soon as they were out. Their home was perfectly nice, hardly the depths of poverty. But it also didnʹt match the funds Iʹd seen moved around in those bank accounts.

  ʺIʹm not,ʺ said Emily. ʺItʹs on hand for emergencies, of course, but mostly I set it all aside for Jill, for her future. To do whatever she wants.ʺ

  ʺWhat do you mean?ʺ asked Jill, aghast. ʺWhat kind of money are you talking about?ʺ

  ʺYouʹre an heiress,ʺ I said. ʺAnd royalty.ʺ

  ʺIʹm not any of those things,ʺ she said. She was frantic now, looking around at all of us. She reminded me of a deer, ready to bolt. ʺThereʹs a mistake. Youʹve all made some mistake.ʺ

  Emily stood up and walked over to Jillʹs chair, kneeling on the floor before it. Emily cl
asped her daughterʹs hand. ʺIt is all true. And Iʹm sorry you have to find out like this. But it doesnʹt change anything. Our lives arenʹt going to change. Weʹll go on just like we have before.ʺ

  A range of emotions raced over Jillʹs features—especially fear and confusion—but she leaned down and buried her face against her motherʹs shoulder in acceptance. ʺOkay.ʺ

  It was a touching moment, and again, I almost felt like crying. Iʹd had my own share of family drama and parental issues. Like before, I wanted the Mastranos to have this moment—but they couldnʹt.

  ʺYou canʹt,ʺ I told them. ʺYou canʹt go on like before. Jill . . . Jill has to go to Court.ʺ

  Emily jerked away from Jill and stared at me. Only a second ago, Emily had been full of grief and distress. Now, I saw intense anger and ferocity. Her blue eyes were stormy, fixing me with a sharp glare. ʺNo. She is not going there. She is never going there.ʺ

  Jill had already visited Court before, but both Emily and I knew that I wasnʹt referring to some casual sightseeing trip. Jill had to go with her true identity. Well—maybe true wasnʹt the right word. Illicit royalty wasnʹt part of her nature, at least not yet. She was who sheʹd always been, but her name had changed. That change had to be acknowledged, and the Moroi Court would be shaken.

  ʺShe has to,ʺ I urged. ʺThe Courtʹs getting corrupted, and the Dragomir family has to play its part to help fix things. Lissa has no power alone, not without a family quorum. All the other royals . . . theyʹre trampling her. Theyʹre going to push laws that wonʹt help any of us.ʺ

  Emily still knelt by the chair, as though shielding Jill from my words. ʺAnd thatʹs exactly why Jill canʹt go. Itʹs why I wouldnʹt let Eric acknowledge her. I donʹt want Jill involved. That place is poison. Tatianaʹs murder is proof.ʺ Emily paused and gave me a sharp look, reminding me that I was the chief suspect. Apparently we werenʹt past that yet. ʺAll those royals . . . theyʹre vicious. I donʹt want Jill turning into one of them. I wonʹt let her turn into one of them.ʺ

  ʺNot all royals are like that,ʺ I argued. ʺLissaʹs not. Sheʹs trying to change the system.ʺ

  Emily gave me a bitter smile. ʺAnd how do you think the others feel about her reform? Iʹm sure there are royals who are happy to see her silenced—royals who wouldnʹt like to see her family reemerge. I told you: Eric was a good man. Sometimes I donʹt think itʹs a coincidence their family has died out.ʺ

  I gaped. ʺThatʹs ridiculous.ʺ But I suddenly wasnʹt so sure.

  ʺIs it?ʺ Emilyʹs eyes were on me, as though guessing my doubts. ʺWhat do you think theyʹd do if another Dragomir came forward? The people who oppose Vasilisa? What do you think theyʹd do if only one person stood between them and her familyʹs power?ʺ

  Her implications were shocking . . . yet, I knew they werenʹt impossible. Glancing over at Jill, I felt an empty, sinking feeling in my stomach. What would I be subjecting her to? Sweet, innocent Jill. Jill wanted adventure out of life and could still barely talk to guys without blushing. Her desire to learn to fight was half-youthful impulse and half-instinct to defend her people. Stepping into the royal world could technically help her people too—though not in a way sheʹd ever expected. And it would mean getting involved with the dark and sinister nature that sometimes filled the Court.

  Emily seemed to read my silence as agreement. A mix of triumph and relief crossed her face, all of which vanished when Jill suddenly spoke up.

  ʺIʹll do it.ʺ

  We all turned to stare. Thus far, Iʹd been regarding her with pity, thinking of her as a victim. Now, I was startled at how brave and resolved she looked. Her expression was still underscored with a little fear and shock, but there was a steel in her Iʹd never seen before.

  ʺWhat?ʺ exclaimed Emily.

  ʺIʹll do it,ʺ said Jill, voice steadier. ʺIʹll help Lissa and . . . and the Dragomirs. Iʹll go with Rose back to Court.ʺ

  I decided mentioning the myriad difficulties of me getting anywhere near Court wasnʹt important just then. Honestly, I had reached a point where I was playing all of this by ear, though it was a relief to see Emilyʹs fury shifted away from me.

  ʺYou will not! Iʹm not letting you near there.ʺ

  ʺYou canʹt make this choice for me!ʺ cried Jill. ʺIʹm not a child.ʺ

  ʺAnd youʹre certainly not an adult,ʺ retorted Emily.

  The two began arguing back and forth, and soon John jumped in to support his wife. In the midst of the family bickering, Sydney leaned toward me and murmured, ʺI bet you never thought the hardest part of finding your ‘saviorʹ would be getting her mom to let her stay out past curfew.ʺ

  The unfortunate part about her joke was that it was kind of true. We needed Jill, and I certainly hadnʹt envisioned this complication. What if Emily refused? Clearly, keeping Jillʹs heritage a secret was something sheʹd been pretty adamant about for a while—say, like, fifteen years. I had a feeling Jill wouldnʹt be beyond running away to Court if it came down to that. And I wouldnʹt be beyond helping her.

  Once more, Sonya jumped into the conversation unexpectedly. ʺEmily, didnʹt you hear me? This is all going to happen eventually, with or without your consent. If you donʹt let Jill go now, sheʹll go next week. Or next year. Or in five years. The point is, it will happen.ʺ

  Emily sank back against the chair, face crumpling. ʺNo. I donʹt want this.ʺ

  Sonyaʹs pretty face turned bitter. ʺLife, unfortunately, doesnʹt seem to care what we want. Act now while you can actually stop it from being a disaster.ʺ

  ʺPlease, Mom,ʺ begged Jill. Her jade Dragomir eyes regarded Emily with affection. I knew Jill might indeed disobey and run off—but she didnʹt want to, not if she didnʹt have to.

  Emily stared into the distance, long-lashed eyes vacant and defeated. And although she was standing in the way of my plans, I knew she did it out of legitimate love and concern—traits that had probably drawn Eric to her.

  ʺOkay,ʺ said Emily at last. She sighed. ʺJill can go—but Iʹm going too. You arenʹt facing that place without me.ʺ

  ʺOr me,ʺ said John. He still seemed bewildered but was determined to support his wife and stepdaughter. Jill regarded them both with gratitude, reminding me again that Iʹd just turned a functional family dysfunctional. Emily and John coming with us hadnʹt been part of my plans, but I couldnʹt blame them and didnʹt see what harm theyʹd cause. Weʹd need Emily anyway to tell everyone about Eric.

  ʺThank you,ʺ I said. ʺThank you so much.ʺ

  John eyed me. ʺWe still havenʹt dealt with the fact that thereʹs a fugitive in our home.ʺ

  ʺRose didnʹt do it!ʺ That fierceness was still in Jill. ʺIt was a setup.ʺ

  ʺIt was.ʺ I hesitated to speak my next words. ʺProbably by the people opposing Lissa.ʺ

  Emily paled, but I felt the need for honesty, even if it reaffirmed her fears. She took a steadying breath. ʺI believe you. Believe that you didnʹt do it. I donʹt know why . . . but I do.ʺ She almost smiled. ʺNo, I do know why. Itʹs because of what I said before, about those vipers at Court. Theyʹre the ones who do this kind of thing. Not you.ʺ

  ʺAre you sure?ʺ asked John uneasily. ʺThis mess with Jill is bad enough without us housing a criminal.ʺ

  ʺIʹm certain,ʺ said Emily. ʺSonya and Jill trust Rose, and so I do. Youʹre all welcome to stay here tonight since we can hardly head out to Court right now.ʺ

  I opened my mouth to say we most certainly could leave right now, but Sydney elbowed me sharply. ʺThank you, Mrs. Mastrano,ʺ she said, summoning up that Alchemist diplomacy. ʺThat would be great.ʺ

  I repressed a scowl. Time was still pressing on me, but I knew the Mastranos were entitled to make some preparations. It was probably better to travel in the daytime too. A rough check of my mental map made me think we could do the whole drive back to Court in one day. I nodded in agreement with Sydney, resigning myself to a sleepover at the Mastrano house.

  ʺThanks. We appreciate it.ʺ Suddenly, something occurred to me, summoning back Johnʹs words. This mess with Jill is
bad enough without us housing a criminal. I gave Emily as convincing and reassuring a smile as I could muster. ʺWe, um, also have some friends with us waiting out in the car . . .ʺ

  TWENTY-FOUR

  CONSIDERING THEIR EARLIER antagonism, I was a bit surprised to see Sonya and Robert combine their powers to create an illusion for the Dashkov brothers. It obscured their appearances, and with the addition of some fake names, the Mastrano family just assumed the guys were part of our increasingly bizarre entourage. Considering the distress and upheaval already going on in the house, a couple more people seemed the least of the Mastranosʹ worries.

  In playing good Moroi hosts, it wasnʹt enough to just cook up dinner. Emily also managed to get a feeder to come by—a sort of ʺblood delivery service.ʺ Normally, Moroi who lived outside sheltered areas and intermingled among humans had access to secret feeders living nearby. Usually, these feeders had a keeper of sorts, a Moroi who made money off the service. It was common for Moroi to simply show up at the home of the feederʹs ʺowner,ʺ but in this case, Emily had made arrangements for the feeder to be brought to her house.

  She was doing it as a courtesy, the kind sheʹd do for any Moroi guests—even ones who were delivering news sheʹd dreaded receiving for most of her life. Little did she know just how desperately welcome blood was to the Moroi weʹd brought along. I didnʹt mind the brothers suffering a little weakness, but Sonya definitely needed blood if she was going to continue her recovery.

  Indeed, when the feeder and her keeper showed, Sonya was the first to drink. Dimitri and I had to stay out of sight upstairs. Sonya and Robert could only manage so much spirit-illusion, and hiding Robert and Victorʹs identities from the feederʹs Moroi was imperative. Obscuring both me and Dimitri would have been too much, and considering our most-wanted status, it was essential we not take any risks.

  Leaving the brothers unsupervised made Dimitri and me nervous, but the two of them seemed too desperate for blood to attempt anything. Dimitri and I wanted to clean up anyways, since we hadnʹt had time for showers this morning. We flipped a coin, and I got to go first. Only, when I finished and was rummaging through my clothes, I discovered Iʹd gone through my clean ʺcasual wearʺ supply and was down to the dress Sydney had included in the backpack. I grimaced but figured it wouldnʹt hurt to put the dress on for one night. We wouldnʹt be doing much more than waiting around for tomorrowʹs departure, and maybe Emily would let me do laundry before we left. After decent hair styling with a blow dryer, I finally felt civilized again.