Frostbite va-2

by Richelle Mead

  I swallowed. I suddenly knew who this was. It was Christian's aunt. When his parents had turned Strigoi, they'd come back for him, hoping to hide him away and turn him Strigoi when he was older. I didn't know all the details, but I knew his aunt had fended them off. As I'd observed before, though, Strigoi were deadly. She'd provided enough of a distraction until the guardians showed up, but she hadn't walked away without damage.

  She extended her gloved hand to me. "Tasha Ozera," she said. "I've heard a lot about you, Rose."

  I gave Christian a dangerous look, and Tasha laughed.

  "Don't worry," she said. "It was all good."

  "No, it wasn't," he countered.

  She shook her head in exasperation. "Honestly, I don't know where he got such horrible social skills. He didn't learn them from me." That was obvious, I thought.

  "What are you guys doing out here?" I asked.

  "I wanted to spend some time with these two." A small frown wrinkled her forehead. "But I don't really like hanging around the school itself. They aren't always hospitable…."

  I didn't get that at first. School officials usually fell all over themselves when royals came to visit. Then I figured it out.

  "Because … because of what happened …"

  Considering the way everyone treated Christian because of his parents, I shouldn't have been surprised to find his aunt facing the same discrimination.

  Tasha shrugged. "That's the way it is." She rubbed her hands together and exhaled, her breath making a frosty cloud in the air. "But let's not stand out here, not when we can build a fire inside."

  I gave a last, wistful glance at the frozen pond and then followed the others inside. The cabin was pretty bare, covered in layers of dust and dirt. It consisted of only one room. There was a narrow bed with no covers in the corner and a few shelves where food had probably once been stored. There was a fireplace, however, and we soon had a blaze going that warmed the small area. The five of us sat down, huddling around its heat, and Tasha produced a bag of marshmallows that we cooked over the flames.

  As we feasted on that gooey goodness, Lissa and Christian talked to each other in that easy, comfortable way they always had. To my surprise, Tasha and Dimitri also talked in a familiar and light way. They obviously knew each other from way back when. I'd actually never seen him so animated before. Even when affectionate with me, there'd always been a serious air about him. With Tasha, he bantered and laughed.

  The more I listened to her, the more I liked her. Finally, unable to stay out of the conversation, I asked, "So are you coming on the ski trip?"

  She nodded. Stifling a yawn, she stretched herself out like a cat. "I haven't been skiing in ages. No time. Been saving all my vacation for this."

  "Vacation?" I gave her a curious look. "Do you have…a job?"

  "Sadly, yes," Tasha said, though she didn't actually sound very sad about it. "I teach martial arts classes."

  I stared in astonishment. I couldn't have been more surprised if she'd said she was an astronaut or a telephone psychic.

  A lot of royals just didn't work at all, and if they did, it was usually in some sort of investment or other moneymaking business that furthered their family fortunes. And those who did work certainly didn't do a lot of martial arts or physically demanding jobs. Moroi had a lot of great attributes: exceptional senses-smell, sight, and hearing-and the power to work magic. But physically, they were tall and slender, often small-boned. They also got weak from being in sunlight. Now, those things weren't enough to prevent someone from becoming a fighter, but they did make it more challenging. An idea had built up among the Moroi over time that their best offense was a good defense, and most shied away from the thought of physical conflict. They hid in well-protected places like the Academy, always relying on stronger, hardier dhampirs to guard them.

  "What do you think, Rose?" Christian seemed highly amused by my surprise. "Think you could take her?"

  "Hard to say," I said.

  Tasha crooked me a grin. "You're being modest. I've seen what you guys can do. This is just a hobby I picked up."

  Dimitri chuckled. "Now you're being modest. You could teach half the classes around here."

  "Not likely," she said. "It'd be pretty embarrassing to be beaten up by a bunch of teenagers."

  "I don't think that'd happen," he said. "I seem to remember you doing some damage to Neil Szelsky."

  Tasha rolled her eyes. "Throwing my drink in his face wasn't actually damage-unless you consider the damage it did to his suit. And we all know how he is about his clothes."

  They both laughed at some private joke the rest of us weren't in on, but I was only half-listening. I was still intrigued about her role with the Strigoi.

  The self-control I'd tried to maintain finally slipped. "Did you start learning to fight before or after that happened to your face?"

  "Rose!" hissed Lissa.

  But Tasha didn't seem upset. Neither did Christian, and he usually grew uncomfortable when the attack with his parents was brought up. She regarded me with a level, thoughtful look. It reminded me of the one I sometimes got from Dimitri if I did something surprising that he approved of.

  "After," she said. She didn't lower her gaze or look embarrassed, though I sensed sadness in her. "How much do you know?"

  I glanced at Christian. "The basics."

  She nodded. "I knew … I knew what Lucas and Moira had become, but that still didn't prepare me. Mentally, physically, or emotionally. I think if I had to live through it again, I still wouldn't be ready. But after that night, I looked at myself- figuratively-and realized how defenseless I was. I'd spent my whole life expecting guardians to protect me and take care of me.

  "And that's not to say the guardians aren't capable. Like I said, you could probably take me in a fight. But they-Lucas and Moira-cut down our two guardians before we realized what had happened. I stalled them from taking Christian- but just barely. If the others hadn't shown up, I'd be dead, and he'd-" She stopped, frowned, and kept going. "I decided that I didn't want to die that way, not without putting up a real fight and doing everything I could to protect myself and those I love. So I learned all sorts of self-defense. And after a while, I didn't really, uh, fit in so well with high society around here. So I moved to Minneapolis and made a living from teaching others."

  I didn't doubt there were other Moroi living in Minneapolis-though God only knew why-but I could read between the lines. She'd moved there and integrated herself with humans, keeping away from other vampires like Lissa and I had for two years. I started to wonder also if there might have been something else there between the lines. She'd said she'd learned "all sorts of self-defense"-apparently, more than just martial arts. Going along with their offense-defense beliefs, the Moroi didn't think magic should be used as a weapon. Long ago, it had been used that way, and some Moroi still secretly did today. Christian, I knew, was one of them. I suddenly had a good idea of where he might have picked up that kind of thing.

  Silence fell. It was hard to follow up a sad story like that. But Tasha, I realized, was one of those people who could always lighten a mood. It made me like her even more, and she spent the rest of the time telling us funny stories. She didn't put on airs like a lot of royals did, so she had lots of dirt on everyone. Dimitri knew a lot of the people she spoke of- honestly, how did someone so antisocial seem to know everyone in Moroi and guardian society? — and would occasionally add some small detail. They had us in hysterics until Tasha finally looked at her watch.

  "Where's the best place a girl can go shopping around here?" she asked.

  Lissa and I exchanged looks. "Missoula," we said in unison.

  Tasha sighed. "That's a couple hours away, but if I leave soon, I can probably still get in some time before the stores close. I'm hopelessly behind in Christmas shopping."

  I groaned. "I'd kill to go shopping."

  "Me too," said Lissa.

  "Maybe we could sneak along…." I gave Dimitri a hopeful look.
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br />   "No," he said immediately. I gave a sigh of my own.

  Tasha yawned again. "I'll have to grab some coffee, so I don't sleep on the drive in."

  "Can't one of your guardians drive for you?"

  She shook her head. "I don't have any."

  "Don't have any …" I frowned, parsing her words. "You don't have any guardians?"

  "Nope."

  I shot up. "But that's not possible! You're royal. You should have at least one. Two, really."

  Guardians were distributed among Moroi in a cryptic, micromanaged way by the Guardian Council. It was kind of an unfair system, considering the ratio of guardians to Moroi. Non-royals tended to get them by a lottery system. Royals always got them. High-ranking royals often got more than one, but even the lowest-ranking member of royalty wouldn't have been without one.

  "The Ozeras aren't exactly first in line when guardians get assigned," said Christian bitterly. "Ever since…my parents died…there's kind of been a shortage."

  My anger flared up. "But that's not fair. They can't punish you for what your parents did."

  "It's not punishment, Rose." Tasha didn't seem nearly as enraged as she should have been, in my opinion. "It's just…a rearranging of priorities."

  "They're leaving you defenseless. You can't go out there by yourself!"

  "I'm not defenseless, Rose. I've told you that. And if I really wanted a guardian, I could make a nuisance of myself, but it's a lot of hassle. I'm fine for now."

  Dimitri glanced over at her. "You want me to go with you?"

  "And keep you up all night?" Tasha shook her head. "I wouldn't do that to you, Dimka."

  "He doesn't mind," I said quickly, excited about this solution.

  Dimitri seemed amused by me speaking for him, but he didn't contradict me. "I really don't."

  She hesitated. "All right. But we should probably go soon."

  Our illicit party dispersed. The Moroi went one direction; Dimitri and I went another. He and Tasha made plans to meet up in a half hour.

  "So what do you think of her?" he asked when we were alone.

  "I like her. She's cool." I thought about her for a moment. "And I get what you mean about the marks."

  "Oh?"

  I nodded, watching my footing as we walked along the paths. Even when salted and shoveled, they could still collect hidden patches of ice.

  "She didn't do what she did for glory. She did it because she had to. Just like…just like my mom did." I hated to admit it, but it was true. Janine Hathaway might be the worst mother ever, but she was a great guardian. "The marks don't matter. Molnijas or scars."

  "You're a fast learner," he said with approval.

  I swelled under his praise. "Why does she call you Dimka?"

  He laughed softly. I'd heard a lot of his laughter tonight and decided I'd like to hear more of it.

  "It's a nickname for Dimitri."

  "That doesn't make any sense. It doesn't sound anything like Dimitri. You should be called, I don't know, Dimi or something."

  "That's not how it works in Russian," he said.

  "Russian's weird," In Russian, the nickname for Vasilisa was Vasya, which made no sense to me.

  "So is English."

  I gave him a sly look. "If you'd teach me to swear in Russian, I might have a new appreciation for it."

  "You swear too much already."

  "I just want to express myself."

  "Oh, Roza…" He sighed, and I felt a thrill tickle me. «Roza» was my name in Russian. He rarely used it. "You express yourself more than anyone else I know."

  I smiled and walked on a bit without saying anything else. My heart skipped a beat, I was so happy to be around him. There was something warm and right about us being together.

  Even as I floated along, my mind churned over something else that I'd been thinking about. "You know, there's something funny about Tasha's scars."

  "What's that?" he asked.

  "The scars…they mess up her face," I began slowly. I was having trouble putting my thoughts into words. "I mean, it's obvious she used to be really pretty. But even with the scars now … I don't know. She's pretty in a different way. It's like…like they're part of her. They complete her." It sounded silly, but it was true.

  Dimitri didn't say anything, but he gave me a sidelong glance. I returned it, and as our eyes met, I saw the briefest glimpse of the old attraction. It was fleeting and gone too soon, but I'd seen it. Pride and approval replaced it, and they were almost as good.

  When he spoke, it was to echo his earlier thoughts. "You're a fast learner, Roza."

  CHAPTER 6

  I was feeling pretty good about life when I headed to my before-school practice the next day. The secret gathering last night had been super fun, and I felt proudly responsible for fighting the system and encouraging Dimitri to go with Tasha. Better still, I'd gotten my first crack at a silver stake yesterday and had proven I could handle one. High on myself, I couldn't wait to practice even more.

  Once I was dressed in my usual workout attire, I practically skipped down to the gym. But when I stuck my head inside the practice room from the day before, I found it dark and quiet. Flipping on the light, I peered around just in case Dimitri was conducting some kind of weird, covert training exercise. Nope. Empty. No staking today.

  "Shit," I muttered.

  "He's not here."

  I yelped and nearly jumped ten feet in the air. Turning around, I looked straight into my mother's narrowed brown eyes.

  "What are you doing here?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, her appearance registered with me. A stretchy spandex shirt with short sleeves. Loose, drawstring workout pants similar to the ones I wore. "Shit," I said again.

  "Watch your mouth," she snapped. "You might behave like you have no manners, but at least try not to sound that way."

  "Where's Dimitri?"

  "Guardian Belikov is in bed. He just got back a couple of hours ago and needed to sleep."

  Another expletive was on my lips, and I bit it back. Of course Dimitri was asleep. He'd had to drive with Tasha to Missoula during daylight in order to be there during human shopping hours. He'd technically been up all of the Academy's night and had probably only just gotten back. Ugh. I wouldn't have been so quick to encourage him to help her if I'd known it'd result in this.

  "Well," I said hastily. "I guess that means practice is canceled-"

  "Be quiet and put these on." She handed me some training mitts. They were similar to boxing gloves but not as thick and bulky. They shared the same purpose, however: to protect your hands and keep you from gouging your opponent with your nails.

  "We've been working on silver stakes," I said sulkily shoving my hands into the mitts.

  "Well, today we're doing this. Come on."

  Wishing I'd been hit by a bus on my walk from the dorm today, I followed her out toward the center of the gym. Her curly hair was pinned up to stay out of the way, revealing the back of her neck. The skin there was covered in tattoos. The top one was a serpentine line: the promise mark, given when guardians graduated from academies like St. Vladimir's and agreed to serve. Below that were the molnija marks awarded each time a guardian killed a Strigoi. They were shaped like the lightning bolts they took their name from. I couldn't gauge exact numbers, but let's just say it was a wonder my mom had any neck left to tattoo. She'd wielded a lot of death in her time.

  When she reached the spot she wanted, she turned toward me and adopted an attack stance. Half expecting her to jump me then and there, I quickly mirrored it.

  "What are we doing?" I asked.

  "Basic offensive and defensive parrying. Use the red lines."

  "That's all?" I asked.

  She leapt toward me. I dodged-just barely-and tripped over my own feet in the process. Hastily, I righted myself.

  "Well," she said in a voice that almost sounded sarcastic. "As you seem so keen on reminding me, I haven't seen you in five years. I have no idea what you can do."

 
She moved on me again, and again I just barely kept within the lines in escaping her. That quickly became the pattern. She never really gave me the chance to go on the offensive. Or maybe I just didn't have the skills to take the offensive. I spent all my time defending myself-physically, at least. Grudgingly, I had to acknowledge to myself that she was good. Really good. But I certainly wasn't going to tell her that.

  "So, what?" I asked. "This is your way of making up for maternal negligence?"

  "This is my way of making you get rid of that chip on your shoulder. You've had nothing but attitude for me since I arrived. You want to fight?" Her fist shot out and connected with my arm. "Then we'll fight. Point."

  "Point," I conceded, backing up to my side. "I don't want to fight. I've just been trying to talk to you."

  "Mouthing off to me in class isn't what I'd really call talking. Point."

  I grunted from the hit. When I'd first begun training with Dimitri, I'd complained that it wasn't fair for me to fight someone a foot taller than me. He'd pointed out that I'd fight plenty of Strigoi taller than me and that the old adage was true: size doesn't matter. Sometimes I thought ht was giving me false hope, but judging from my mom's performance here, I was starting to believe him.

  I'd never actually fought anyone smaller than me. As one of the few girls in the novice classes, I accepted that I was almost always going to be shorter and slimmer than my opponents. But my mother was smaller still and clearly had nothing but muscle packed into her petite body.

  "I have a unique style of communication, that's all," I said.

  "You have a petty teenage delusion that you've somehow been wronged for the last seventeen years." Her foot hit my thigh. "Point. When in reality, you've been treated no differently than any other dhampir. Better, actually. I could have sent you off to live with my cousins. You want to be a blood whore? Is that what you wanted?"

  The term "blood whore" always made me flinch. It was a term often applied to the single dhampir mothers who decided to raise their children instead of becoming guardians. These women often had short-term affairs with Moroi men and were looked down on for it-even though there wasn't really anything else they could have done, since Moroi men usually ended up marrying Moroi women. The "blood whore" term came from the fact that some dhampir women let men drink blood from them during sex. In our world, only humans gave blood. A dhampir doing it was dirty and kinky-especially during sex. I suspected only a few dhampir women actually did this, but unfairly, the term tended to get applied to all of them. I had given blood to Lissa when we had run away, and although it had been a necessary act, the stigma still stayed with me.