"Obviously, this is a secret," I said. "A big one. One people have apparently wanted to cover up—enough that they'd try to steal records about it and keep the Dragomirs out of power." Someone had broken into an Alchemist building and taken papers indicating Eric Dragomir had indeed been funding a mystery woman. I pointed out to my companions that it seemed very likely to me this woman was the mother of his love child. "You could look into that case some more." Those last words were spoken toward Sydney. Maybe she didn't care about another Dragomir, but the Alchemists still wanted to know who had stolen from them.
"Whoa, hey. How was I not even part of this decision process? " She still hadn't recovered from our conversation suddenly running away without her. After the way our night had gone so far, she didn't look too pleased about being sucked into another of my rogue schemes. "Maybe breaking Lissa's orders is no big deal for you two, but I'd be going against Abe. He might not be so lenient."
It was a fair point. "I'll pull in a daughterly favor," I assured her. "Besides, the old man loves secrets. He'd be into this, believe me. And you've already found the biggest clue of all. I mean, if Eric was giving money to some anonymous woman, then why wouldn't it be for his secret mistress and child?"
"Anonymous is the key word," Sydney said, still clearly skeptical of Zmey's "leniency." "If your theory's right—and it's kind of a leap—we still have no idea who this mistress is. The stolen documents didn't say."
"Are there other records that tie into the stolen ones? Or could you investigate the bank he was sending money to?" The Alchemists' initial concern had simply been that someone had stolen hard copies of their records. Her colleagues had discovered which items were taken but hadn't given much thought to the content. I was willing to bet they hadn't searched for any other documents related to the same topic. She affirmed as much.
"You really have no idea how ‘researching records' works, do you? It's not that easy," she said. "It could take a while."
"Well . . . I guess that's why it's good we're going somewhere, um, secure, right?" I asked. Struck with the realization that we might need time to put our next step together, I could kind of see the disadvantage of having lost our out-of-the-way hideout.
"Secure . . ." She shook her head. "Well, we'll see. I hope I'm not doing something stupid."
With those ominous words, silence fell. I wanted to know more about where we were going but felt I shouldn't push the small victory I'd made. The victory I thought I'd made, at least. I wasn't entirely sure Sydney was 100 percent on board but felt certain Dimitri had been convinced. Best not to agitate her right now. I looked at the GPS. Almost an hour. Enough time to check back on Lissa.
It took me a minute to recognize where Lissa was, probably because I'd been expecting her to return to her room. But no, she was in a location I'd only been once: Adrian's parents' home. Surprising. In a few moments, though, I read the reasoning from her mind. Her current suite was in guest housing, and in the ensuing panic over my escape, her building was swarming with visitors now trying to leave. The Ivashkov townhouse, situated in a permanent residential area, was a bit quieter—not that there weren't a few fleeing neighbors there too.
Adrian sat back in an armchair, feet carelessly resting on an expensive coffee table that some interior designer had probably helped his mother choose. Lissa and Christian had just arrived, and she caught a whiff of smoke in the air that made her think Adrian had been sneaking in some bad behavior beforehand.
"If we're lucky," he was telling Lissa and Christian, "the parental units will be tied up for a while and give us some peace and quiet. How rough was your questioning?"
Lissa and Christian sat on a couch that was prettier than it was comfortable. She leaned into him and sighed. "Not so bad. I don't know if they're fully convinced we had nothing to do with Rose's escape . . . but they definitely don't have any proof."
"I think we got in more trouble with Aunt Tasha," said Christian. "She was kind of pissed off that we didn't tell her what was going on. I think she probably wanted to blow up the statues herself."IT
"I think she's more upset that we got Dimitri involved" pointed out Lissa. "She thinks we screwed up his chances of ever being accepted again."
"She's right," said Adrian. He picked up a remote control and turned on a large, plasma screen TV. He muted the sound and flipped randomly through channels. "But no one forced him."
Lissa nodded but secretly wondered if she had forced Dimitri inadvertently. His dedicated vow to protect her was no secret. Christian seemed to pick up on her worry.
"Hey, for all we know, he never would have—"
A knock interrupted him.
"Damn," said Adrian, standing up. "So much for peace and quiet."
"Your parents wouldn't knock," said Christian.
"True, but it's probably one of their friends wanting to sip port and gossip about the terrible state of today's murderous youth," Adrian called back.
Lissa heard the door open and a muffled conversation. A few moments later, Adrian returned with a young Moroi guy that Lissa didn't recognize.
"Look," the guy was saying, glancing around uneasily, "I can come back." He caught sight of Lissa and Christian and froze.
"No, no," said Adrian. His transformation from grumpy to cordial had happened as quickly as a light switch being flipped. "I'm sure she'll be back any minute. Do you guys all know each other?"
The guy nodded, eyes darting from face to face. "Of course."
Lissa frowned. "I don't know you."
The smile never left Adrian's face, but Lissa picked up quickly that something important was going on. "This is Joe. Joe's the janitor who helped me out by testifying that I wasn't with Rose when Aunt Tatiana was murdered. The one who was working in Rose's building."
Both Lissa and Christian straightened up. "It was a lucky thing you turned up before the hearing," said Christian carefully. For a while, there'd been panic that Adrian might be implicated with me, but Joe had come forward just in time to testify about when he'd seen both me and Adrian in my building.
Joe took a few steps back toward the foyer. "I really should go. Just tell Lady Ivashkov that I came by—and that I'm leaving Court. But that everything's set."
"What's set?" asked Lissa, slowly standing up.
"She—she'll know." Lissa, I knew, didn't look intimidating. She was cute and slim and pretty, but from the fear on Joe's face—well. She must have been giving him a scary look. It reminded me of the earlier encounter with Abe. "Really," he added. "I need to go."
He started to move again, but suddenly, I felt a surge of spirit burn through Lissa. Joe came to a halt, and she strode toward him.
"What did you need to talk to Lady Ivashkov about?" demanded Lissa.
"Easy, cousin," murmured Adrian. "You don't need that much spirit to get answers."
Lissa was using compulsion on Joe, so much that he might as well have been a puppet on strings.
"The money," Joe gasped, eyes wide. "The money's set."
"What money?" she asked.
Joe hesitated, as though he might resist, but soon gave in. He couldn't fight that much compulsion, not from a spirit user. "The money . . . the money to testify . . . about where he was." Joe jerked his head toward Adrian.
Adrian's cool expression faltered a little. "What do you mean where I was? The night my aunt died? Are you saying . . ."
Christian picked up where Adrian couldn't. "Is Lady Ivashkov paying you off to say you saw Adrian?"
"I did see him," cried Joe. He was visibly sweating. Adrian had been right: Lissa was using too much spirit. It was physically hurting Joe. "I just . . . I just . . . I don't remember the time . . . I don't remember any of the times. That's what I told the other guy, too. She paid me to put a time on when you were there."
Adrian didn't like that, not at all. To his credit, he remained calm. "What do you mean you told ‘the other guy'?"
"Who else?" repeated Lissa. "Who else was with her?"
"No on
e! Lady Ivashkov just wanted to make sure her son was clear. I fudged the details for her. It was the guy . . . the other guy who came later . . . who wanted to know when Hathaway was around."
There was a click from the foyer, the sound of the front door opening. Lissa leaned forward, cranking up the compulsion. "Who? Who was he? What did he want?"
Joe looked like he was in serious pain now. He swallowed. "I don't know who he was! No one I'd seen. Some Moroi. Just wanted me to testify about when I'd seen Hathaway. Paid me more than Lady Ivashkov. No harm . . ." He looked at Lissa desperately. "No harm in helping them both . . . especially since Hathaway did it . . ."
"Adrian?" Daniella's voice rang down the hall. "Are you here?"
"Back off," Adrian warned Lissa in a low voice. There was no joking in it.
Her voice was just as soft, her attention still on Joe. "What did he look like? The Moroi? Describe him."
The sound of high heels clicked on the hall's wooden floor.
"Like no one!" said Joe. "I swear! Plain. Ordinary. Except the hand . . . please let me go . . ."
Adrian shoved Lissa aside, breaking the contact between her and Joe. Joe nearly sagged to the ground and then went rigid as he locked gazes with Adrian. More compulsion—but much less than Lissa had used.
"Forget this," hissed Adrian. "We never had this conversation."
"Adrian, what are you—"
Daniella stopped in the living room's doorway, taking in the strange sights. Christian was still on the couch, but Adrian and Lissa were inches from Joe, whose shirt was soaked with sweat.
"What's going on?" Daniella exclaimed.
Adrian stepped back and gave his mother one of those charming smiles that captivated so many women. "This guy came by to see you, Mom. We told him we'd wait until you got back. We're going to head out now."
Daniella glanced between her son and Joe. She was clearly uneasy about the scenario and also confused. Lissa was surprised at the "heading out" comment but followed Adrian's lead. Christian did too.
"It was nice seeing you," said Lissa, attempting a smile to match Adrian's. Joe looked totally dazed. After Adrian's last command, the poor janitor had also probably forgotten how he'd ended up at the Ivashkov home.
Lissa and Christian hastily followed Adrian out before Daniella could say much more. "What the hell was that?" asked Christian, once they were outside. I wasn't sure if he meant Lissa's scary compulsion or what Joe had revealed.
"Not sure," said Adrian, expression dark. No more cheery smile. "But we should talk to Mikhail."
"Rose."
Dimitri's voice was gentle, bringing me back to him, Sydney, and the car. He'd undoubtedly recognized the expression on my face and knew where I'd been.
"Everything okay back there?" he asked.
I knew "back there" meant Court and not the backseat. I nodded, though "okay" wasn't quite the right word for what I'd just witnessed. What had I just witnessed? An admission of false testimony. An admission that contradicted some of the evidence against me. I didn't care so much that Joe had lied to keep Adrian safe. Adrian hadn't been involved with Tatiana's murder. I wanted him free and clear. But what about the other part? Some "ordinary" Moroi who'd paid Joe to lie about when I'd been around, leaving me without an alibi during the murder window?
Before I could fully process the implications, I noticed the car had stopped. Forcing the Joe-info to the back of my mind, I tried to take stock of our new situation. Sydney's laptop glowed in the front seat as she scrolled through something.
"Where are we?" I peered out the window. In the headlights, I saw a sad, closed gas station.
"Altswood," said Dimitri.
By my estimation, there was nothing else but the gas station. "Makes our last town look like New York."
Sydney shut her laptop. She handed it back, and I set it on the seat beside me, near the backpacks she'd miraculously grabbed when leaving the motel. She shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. Not too far away, I could see the highway and expected her to turn toward it. Instead, she drove past the gas station, deeper into darkness. Like the last place, we were surrounded by mountains and forests. We crept along at a snail's pace until Sydney spotted a tiny gravel road disappearing into the woods. It was only big enough for one car to go down, but somehow, I didn't expect we'd run into much traffic out here. A similar road took us in deeper and deeper, and although I couldn't see her face, Sydney's anxiety was palpable in the car.
Minutes felt like hours until our narrow path opened up into a large, dirt-packed clearing. Other vehicles—pretty oldlooking—were parked there. It was a strange place for a parking lot, considering all I could see around us was dark forest. Sydney shut off the car.
"Are we at a campground?" I asked.
She didn't answer. Instead, she looked at Dimitri. "Are you as good as they say you are?"
"What?" he asked, startled.
"Fighting. Everyone keeps talking about how dangerous you are. Is it true? Are you that good?"
Dimitri considered. "Pretty good."
I scoffed. "Very good."
"I hope it's enough," said Sydney, reaching for the door's handle.
I opened my door as well. "Aren't you going to ask about me?"
"I already know you're dangerous," she said. "I've seen it."
Her compliment offered little comfort as we walked out across the rural parking lot. "Why'd we stop?"
"Because we have to go on foot now." She turned on a flashlight and shone it along the lot's perimeter. At last, it flickered across a footpath snaking through the trees. The path was small and easy to miss because weeds and other plants were encroaching on it. "There." She began to move toward it.
"Wait," said Dimitri. He moved in front of her, leading the way, and I immediately took up the back position in our group. It was a standard guardian formation. We were flanking her the way we would a Moroi. All earlier thoughts of Lissa flitted from my mind. My attention was totally on the situation at hand, all my senses alert to the potential danger. I could see Dimitri was in the same mode, both of us holding our stakes.
"Where are we going?" I asked as we carefully avoided roots and holes along the path. Branches scraped along my arms.
"To people I guarantee won't turn you in," she said, voice grim.
More questions were on my lips when brilliant light suddenly blinded me. My eyes had grown attuned to the darkness, and the unexpected brightness was too abrupt a change. There was a rustling in the trees, a sense of many bodies around us, and as my vision returned, I saw vampire faces everywhere.
NINE
FORTUNATELY, THEY WERE MOROI FACES.
That didn't stop me from raising my stake and moving closer to Sydney. No one was attacking us, so I held my position—not that it probably mattered. As I took in more and more of the setting, I saw that we were completely surrounded by about ten people. We'd told Sydney we were good, and it was true: Dimitri and I could probably take out a group like this, though the poor fighting quarters would make it difficult. I also realized the group wasn't entirely Moroi. The ones closest to us were, but around them were dhampirs. And the light I'd thought had come from torches or flashlights was actually coming from a ball of flame held in one of the Moroi's hands.
One Moroi man stepped forward, about Abe's age, with a bushy brown beard and a silver stake in his hand. Some part of me noted the stake was crudely made compared to mine, but the point held the same threat. The man's gaze passed over me and Dimitri, and the stake lowered. Sydney became the object of the guy's scrutiny, and he suddenly reached out for her. Dimitri and I moved to stop him, but other hands reached out to stop us. I could have fought them but froze when Sydney let out a strangled, "Wait."
The bearded Moroi gripped her chin and turned her head so that the light fell on her cheek, lighting up the golden tattoo. He released his hold and stepped back.
"Lily-girl," he grunted.
The others relaxed very slightly, though they kep
t their stakes poised and still looked ready to attack if provoked. The Moroi leader turned his attention from Sydney to Dimitri and me.
"You're here to join us?" he asked warily.
"We need shelter," said Sydney, lightly touching her throat. "They're being chased by—by the Tainted."
The woman holding the flame looked skeptical. "More like spies for the Tainted."
"The Tainted Queen is dead," said Sydney. She nodded toward me. "They think she did it."
The inquisitive part of me started to speak but promptly shut up, wise enough to know this bizarre turn of events was best left in Sydney's hands. I didn't understand what she was saying. When she'd said Tainted were pursuing us, I thought she was trying to make this group think we had Strigoi after us. Now, after she'd mentioned the queen, I wasn't so sure. I also wasn't so sure identifying me as a potential murderer was that smart. For all I knew, Brown Beard would turn me in and try to score a reward. From the looks of his clothes, he could have used one.
To my surprise, this brought a smile to his face. "And so, another usurper passes on. Is there a new one yet?"
"No," said Sydney. "They'll have elections soon and choose."
The group's smiles were replaced by looks of disdain and disapproving mutters about elections. I couldn't help myself. "How else would they choose a new king or queen?"
"In the true way," said a nearby dhampir. "The way it used to be, long ago. In a battle to the death."
I waited for the punch line, but the guy was clearly serious. I wanted to ask Sydney what she'd gotten us into, but by this point, we'd apparently passed inspection. Their leader turned and began walking down the path. The group followed, moving us along as they did. Listening to their conversation, I couldn't help a small frown—and not just because our lives might be on the line. I was intrigued by their accents. The motel's desk clerk had had a thick southern accent, exactly like you'd expect in this part of the country. These guys, while sounding similar, had a few other pronunciations mixed in. It almost reminded me a little of Dimitri's accent.
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