"No!" she exclaimed. "He's not dangerous. And . . ." She took a few steps forward, returning his glare. "Even if he was, you have no business telling me what I can or can't do!"
Christian sighed dramatically. "And here I thought Rose was the only one who threw herself into stupid situations, regardless of whether they might kill her."
Lissa's anger flared up rapidly, likely because of all the spirit she'd been using. "Hey, you didn't have any issues helping me stake Dimitri! You trained me for it."
"That was different. We were in a bad situation already, and if things went wrong . . . well, I could have incinerated him." Christian regarded her from head to toe, and there was something in his gaze . . . something that seemed like more than just objective assessment. "But I didn't have to. You were amazing. You made the hit. I didn't know if you could, but you did . . . and the fire . . . You didn't flinch at all, but it must have been awful. . . ."
There was a catch in his voice as he spoke, like he was only now truly assessing the consequences of what might have happened to Lissa. His concern and admiration made her flush, and she tilted her head–an old trick–so that the pieces of hair that had escaped from her ponytail would fall forward and hide her face. There was no need for it. Christian was now staring pointedly at the ground.
"I had to do it," she said at last. "I had to see if it was possible."
He looked up. "And it was . . . right? There really isn't any trace of Strigoi?"
"None. I'm positive. But no one believes it."
"Can you blame them? I mean, I helped out with it and I wanted it to be true . . . but I'm not sure I ever really, truly thought someone could come back from that." He glanced away again, his gaze resting on a lilac bush. Lissa could smell its scent, but the distant and troubled look on his face told her that his thoughts weren't on nature. Neither were they on Dimitri, I realized. He was thinking about his parents. What if there'd been spirit users around when the Ozeras had turned Strigoi? What if there had been a way to save them?
Lissa, not guessing what I had, remarked, "I don't even know that I believed either. But as soon as it happened, well . . . I knew. I know. There's no Strigoi in him. I have to help him. I have to make others realize it. I can't let them lock him up forever–or worse." Getting Dimitri out of the warehouse without the other guardians staking him had been no easy feat for her, and she shivered recalling those first few seconds after his change when everyone had been shouting to kill him.
Christian turned back and met her eyes curiously. "What did you mean when you said he was like Dimitri but not like Dimitri?"
Her voice trembled a little when she spoke. "He's . . . sad."
"Sad? Seems like he should be happy he was saved."
"No . . . you don't understand. He feels awful about everything he did as a Strigoi. Guilty, depressed. He's punishing himself for it because he doesn't think he can be forgiven."
"Holy shit," said Christian, clearly caught off guard. A few Moroi girls had walked by just then and looked scandalized at his swearing. They hurried off, whispering among themselves. Christian ignored them. "But he couldn't help it–"
"I know, I know. I already went over it with him."
"Can Rose help?"
"No," Lissa said bluntly.
Christian waited, apparently hoping she'd elaborate. He grew annoyed when she didn't. "What do you mean she can't? She should be able to help us more than anyone!"
"I don't want to get into it." My situation with Dimitri bothered her a lot. That made two of us. Lissa turned toward the medical building. It looked regal and castle-like on the outside, but it housed a facility as sterile and modern as any hospital. "Look, I need to get inside. And don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" he demanded, taking a few steps toward her.
"That disapproving, pissed-off look you get when you don't get your way."
"I don't have that look!"
"You have it right now." She backed away from him, moving toward the center's door. "If you want the whole story, we can talk later, but I don't have the time . . . and honestly . . . I don't really feel like telling it."
That pissed-off look–and she was right, he did have it–faded a little. Almost nervously, he said, "Okay. Later then. And Lissa . . ."
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad you're all right. What you did last night . . . well, it really was amazing."
Lissa stared at him for several heavy seconds, her heart rate rising slightly as she watched a light breeze ruffle his black hair. "I couldn't have done it without your help," she said at last. With that, she turned and went inside, and I returned completely to my own head.
And like earlier, I was at a loss. Lissa would be busy the rest of the day, and standing and yelling in the guardians' office wouldn't really help me get to Dimitri. Well, I supposed there was the off chance I might annoy them so much that they'd throw me in jail too. Then Dimitri and I would be next to each other. I promptly dismissed that plan, fearing the only thing it would land me with was more filing.
What could I do? Nothing. I needed to see him again but didn't know how. I hated not having a plan. Lissa's encounter with Dimitri hadn't been nearly long enough for me, and anyway, I felt it was important to take him in through my eyes, not hers. And oh, that sadness . . . that utter look of hopelessness. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay. I wanted to tell him I forgave him and that we'd make everything like it used to be. We could be together, just the way we planned . . .
The thought brought tears to my eyes, and left alone with my frustration and inactivity, I returned to my room and flounced onto the bed. Alone, I could finally let loose the sobs I'd been holding in since last night. I didn't even entirely know what I was crying for. The trauma and blood of the last day. My own broken heart. Dimitri's sorrow. The cruel circumstances that had ruined our lives. Really, there were a lot of choices.
I stayed in my room for a good part of the day, lost in my own grief and restlessness. Over and over, I replayed Lissa's meeting with Dimitri, what he'd said and how he looked. I lost track of time, and it took a knock at the door to snap me out of my own suffocating emotions.
Hastily rubbing an arm over my eyes, I opened the door to find Adrian standing out there. "Hey," I said, a little surprised by his presence–not to mention guilty, considering I'd been moping over another guy. I wasn't ready to face Adrian yet, but it appeared I had no choice now. "Do you . . . do you want to come in?"
"Wish I could, little dhampir." He seemed to be in a hurry, not like he'd come to have a relationship talk. "But this is just a drop-by visit to issue an invitation."
"Invitation?" I asked. My mind was still on Dimitri. Dimitri, Dimitri, Dimitri.
"An invitation to a party."
NINETEEN
"ARE YOU CRAZY?" I ASKED.
He gave me the same wordless look he always did when I asked that question.
I sighed and tried again. "A party? That's pushing it, even for you. People just died! Guardians. Priscilla Voda." Not to mention, people had just come back from the dead. Probably best to leave that part out. "This isn't the time to get trashed and play beer pong."
I expected Adrian to say that it was always a good time for beer pong, but he remained serious. "Actually, it's because people died that there's going to be a party. It's not a kegger type. Maybe party's not even the right word. It's a . . ." He frowned, grasping at words. "A special event. An elite one."
"All royal parties are elite ones," I pointed out.
"Yeah, but not every royal is invited to this. It's the . . . well, elite of the elite."
That really wasn't helping. "Adrian–"
"No, listen." He made that familiar gesture of his that indicated frustration, running his hand through his hair. "It's not so much a party as a ceremony. An old, old tradition from . . . I don't know. Romania, I think. They call it the Death Watch. But it's a way to honor the dead, a secret that's been passed on through the ol
dest bloodlines."
Flashbacks of a destructive secret society at St. Vladimir's came back to me. "This isn't some Mana thing, is it?"
"No, I swear. Please, Rose. I'm not all that into it either, but my mom's making me go, and I'd really like it if you were there with me."
Elite and bloodline were warning words to me. "Will there be other dhampirs there?"
"No." He then added quickly, "But I made arrangements for some people you'll approve of to be there. It'll make it better for both of us."
"Lissa?" I guessed. If ever there was an esteemed bloodline, hers was it.
"Yeah. I just ran into her at the medical center. Her reaction was about like yours."
That made me smile. It also piqued my interest. I wanted to talk to her more about what had happened during her visit to Dimitri and knew she'd been avoiding me because of it. If going to some silly royal ritual or whatever it was could get me to her, then so much the better.
"Who else?"
"People you'll like."
"Fine. Be mysterious. I'll go to your cult meeting."
That earned me a return smile. "Hardly a cult, little dhampir. It really is a way to pay last respects to the people killed in that fight." He reached out and ran a hand along my cheek. "And I'm glad . . . God, I'm so glad you weren't one of them. You don't know. . . ." His voice caught, the flippant smile trembling for a moment before stabilizing again. "You don't know how worried I was. Every minute you were gone, every minute I didn't know what had happened to you . . . it was agony. And even after I heard you were okay, I kept asking everyone at the medical center what they knew. Had they seen you fight, did you get hurt . . ."
I felt a lump in my throat. I hadn't been able to see Adrian when I'd returned, but I should have sent a message, at least. I squeezed his hand and tried to make a joke of something that really wasn't funny. "What'd they say? That I was a badass?"
"Yeah, actually. They couldn't stop talking about how amazing you were in battle. Word got back to Aunt Tatiana too about what you did, and even she was impressed."
Whoa. That was a surprise. I started to ask more, but his next words brought me up short.
"I also heard you were yelling at anyone you could to find out about Belikov. And that you were beating down the guardians' doors this morning."
I looked away. "Oh. Yeah. I . . . Look, I'm sorry, but I had to–"
"Hey, hey." His voice was heavy and earnest. "Don't apologize. I understand."
I looked up at him. "You do?"
"Look, it's not like I didn't expect this if he came back."
I glanced back at him hesitantly, studying his serious expression. "I know. I remember what you said before. . . ."
He nodded, then gave me another rueful smile. "Of course, I didn't actually expect any of this to work. Lissa tried to explain the magic she used . . . but good God. I don't think I could ever do anything like she did."
"Do you believe?" I asked. "Do you believe he's no longer Strigoi?"
"Yeah. Lissa said he's not, and I believe her. And I saw him from a distance out in the sun. But I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to try to see him."
"That's your jealousy talking." I had absolutely no right to sound accusing, considering the way my heart was all tangled up over Dimitri.
"Of course it's jealousy," said Adrian nonchalantly. "What do you expect? The former love of your life comes back–from the dead, no less. That's not something I'm really excited about. But I don't blame you for feeling confused."
"I told you before–"
"I know, I know." Adrian didn't sound particularly upset. In fact, there was a surprisingly patient tone in his voice. "I know you said him coming back wouldn't affect things between us. But saying one thing before it happens and then actually having that thing happen are two different things."
"What are you getting at?" I asked, kind of confused.
"I want you, Rose." He squeezed my hand more tightly. "I've always wanted you. I want to be with you. I'd like to be like other guys and say I want to take care of you too, but . . . well. When it comes down to it, you'd probably be the one taking care of me."
I laughed in spite of myself. "Some days I think you're in more danger from yourself than anyone else. You smell like cigarettes, you know."
"Hey, I have never, ever said I was perfect. And you're wrong. You're probably the most dangerous thing in my life."
"Adrian–"
"Wait." With his other hand, he pressed his fingers over my lips. "Just listen. It'd be stupid for me to think that your old boyfriend coming back isn't going to have any effect on you. So do I like you wanting to see him? No, of course not. That's instinct. But there's more, you know. I do believe that he's a dhampir again. Absolutely. But . . ."
"But what?" Adrian's words had me more curious than ever now.
"But just because he isn't a Strigoi doesn't mean it's entirely gone from him. Hold on." Adrian could see my mouth opening in outrage. "I'm not saying he's evil or means to be evil or anything like that. But what he went through . . . It's huge. Epic. We really don't know much about the changing process. What effect did that kind of life have on him? Are there violent parts of him that might suddenly lash out? That's what I'm worried about Rose. I know you. I know you aren't going to be able to help yourself. You'll have to see him and talk to him. But is it safe? That's what no one knows. We don't know anything about this. We don't know if he's dangerous."
Christian had said the same thing to Lissa. I examined Adrian intently. It sounded like a convenient excuse to keep Dimitri and me apart. Yet, I saw truth in those deep green eyes. He meant it. He was nervous about what Dimitri might do. Adrian had also been honest about being jealous, which I had to admire. He hadn't ordered me not to see Dimitri or tried to dictate my behavior. I liked that too. I extended my hand and laced my fingers with Adrian's.
"He's not dangerous. He's . . . sad. Sad for what he's done. The guilt's killing him."
"I can imagine. I probably wouldn't forgive myself either if I suddenly realized I'd been brutally killing people for the last four months." Adrian pulled me to him and kissed the top of my head. "And for everyone's sake-yes, even his–I really hope he is exactly the way he was. Just be careful, okay?"
"I will," I said, kissing his cheek. "Inasmuch as I ever am."
He grinned and released me. "That's the best I can hope for. For now, I've got to head back to my parents' for a little bit. I'll come back for you at four, okay?"
"Okay. Is there anything I should wear to this secret party?"
"Nice dress clothes are fine."
Something occurred to me. "If this is so elite and prestigious, how are you going to get a lowly dhampir like me in?"
"With this." Adrian reached for a bag he'd set down upon entering. He handed it to me.
Curiously, I opened the bag and gaped at what I saw. It was a mask, one that just covered the top half of the face around the eyes. It was intricately worked with gold and green leaves and bejeweled flowers.
"A mask?" I exclaimed. "We're wearing masks to this thing? What is this, Halloween?"
* * *
We didn't actually put on the masks until we arrived at the Death Watch. As part of the secret nature of it all, Adrian said we didn't want to call any attention to ourselves while going to it. So we walked across the Court's grounds dressed up–I wore the same dress I'd worn to dinner at his parents'–but not getting much more notice than the two of us usually did when we were together. Besides, it was late, and a lot of the Court was getting ready for bed.
Our destination surprised me. It was one of the buildings that non-royal Court workers lived in, one that was very near Mia's. Well, I supposed the last place you'd look for a royal party would be at the home of a commoner. Except we didn't go to any of the apartments inside. Once we stepped into the building's lobby, Adrian indicated we should put our masks on. He then took me over to what appeared to be a janitor's closet.
It wasn't. Instead, the door o
pened to a staircase leading down into darkness. I couldn't see the bottom, which put me on high alert. I instinctively wanted to know the details of every situation I entered. Adrian seemed calm and confident as he headed down, so I took it on faith he wasn't leading me to some sacrificial altar. I hated to admit it, but curiosity over this Death Watch thing was temporarily taking my mind off Dimitri.
Adrian and I eventually reached another door, and this one had two guards. Both men were Moroi, both masked like Adrian and me. Their postures were stiff and defensive. They said nothing but simply looked at us expectantly. Adrian said a few words that sounded like Romanian, and a moment later, one of the men unlocked the door and gestured us inside.
"Secret password?" I murmured to Adrian as we swept past.
"Passwords, actually. One for you and one for me. Every guest has a unique one."
We stepped into a narrow tunnel lit only by torches embedded in the walls. Their dancing flames cast fanciful shadows as we passed by. From far ahead, the low murmur of conversation reached us. It sounded surprisingly normal, like any conversation you'd hear at a party. Based on Adrian's description, I'd half-expected to hear chanting or drums.
I shook my head. "I knew it. They keep a medieval dungeon under the Court. I'm surprised there aren't chains on the walls."
"Scared?" Adrian teased, clasping hold of my hand.
"Of this? Hardly. I mean, on the Rose Hathaway Scale of Scariness, this is barely a–"
We emerged out of the hall before I could finish. An expansive room with vaulted ceilings spread out before us, something that boggled my spatially challenged brain as I tried to recall just how far underground we'd gone. Wrought-iron chandeliers holding lit candles hung from the ceiling, casting the same ghostly light the torches had. The walls were made of stone, but it was a very artful, pretty stone: gray with reddish flecks, polished into smooth round pieces. Someone had wanted to keep the Old World dungeon feel but still have the place look stylish. It was a typical line of royal thinking.
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