Shadow Kiss va-3

by Richelle Mead

  He and I split off toward the chapel. I moved so fast that he had to scurry to keep up.

  "I don't suppose you want to tell me what this is about?" he asked.

  "Nope. I appreciate your cooperation, though."

  "Always glad to help," he said. I was certain he was rolling his eyes, but I was more focused on the path ahead.

  We reached the chapel, and the door was locked, unsurprisingly. I knocked on it, staring anxiously around to see if any lights shone through the windows. It didn't look like it.

  "You know, I've broken in here before," said Christian. "If you need inside—"

  "No, more than that. I need to see the priest. Damn it, he's not here."

  "He's probably in bed."

  "Damn it," I repeated, feeling only a little bad about swearing on a church's doorstep. If the priest was in bed, he'd be off in Moroi staff housing and inaccessible. "I need to—"

  The door opened, and Father Andrew peered out at us. He looked surprised but not upset. "Rose? Christian? Is something wrong?"

  "I have to ask you a question," I told him. "It won't take long."

  His surprise grew, but he stepped aside so we could enter. We all stopped and stood in the chapel's lobby, just outside the main sanctuary.

  "I was just about to go home for the night," Father Andrew told us. "I was shutting everything down."

  "You told me that St. Vladimir lived a long life and died of old age. Is that true?"

  "Yes," he said slowly. "To the best of my knowledge. All the books I've read—including these latest ones—say as much."

  "But what about Anna?" I demanded. I sounded like I was on the verge of hysteria. Which I kind of was.

  "What about her?"

  "What happened to her? How did she die?"

  All this time. All this time, Lissa and I had worried about Vlad's outcome. We'd never considered Anna's.

  "Ah, well." Father Andrew sighed. "Her end wasn't as good, I'm afraid. She spent her whole life protecting him, though there are hints that in her old age, she started growing a little unstable too. And then…"

  "And then?" I asked. Christian was looking between the priest and me, completely lost.

  "And then, well, a couple months after St. Vladimir passed on, she committed suicide."

  I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second and then opened them. This was what I'd been afraid of.

  "I'm sorry," Father Andrew said. "I know how closely you've followed their story. I didn't even learn this about her until reading it recently. Taking one's life is a sin, of course…but, well, considering how close they were, it's not hard to imagine how she may have felt when he was gone."

  "And you also said that she was starting to go a little crazy."

  He nodded and spread his hands out. "It's hard to say what that poor woman was thinking. Many factors were probably involved. Why was this so pressing?"

  I shook my head. "It's a long story. Thanks for helping me."

  Christian and I were halfway to the dorm before he finally asked, "What was that all about? I remember when you guys were looking into this. Vladimir and Anna were like Lissa and you, right?"

  "Yeah," I said glumly. "Look, I don't want to get between you guys, but please don't tell Lissa about this. Not until I find out more. Just tell her … I don't know. I'll tell her that I suddenly panicked because I thought I had more community service scheduled."

  "Both of us lying to her, huh?"

  "I hate it, believe me. But it's also best for her at the moment."

  Because if Lissa knew that she might potentially make me insane … yeah, she'd take that hard. She'd want to stop working her magic. Of course, that was what I'd always wanted … and yet, I'd felt that joy in her when she used it. Could I take that away from her? Could I sacrifice myself?

  There was no easy answer, and I couldn't start jumping to conclusions. Not until I knew more. Christian agreed to keep it secret, and by the time we joined the others, it was almost time for curfew anyway. We had only about a half hour together, and then we all split off for bed—including me, since the part-time field experience agreement said I couldn't do nighttime duty. The Strigoi risk was low in general anyway, and my instructors were more concerned about me getting a full night's sleep.

  So when curfew came, I walked back to the dhampir dorm alone. And then, when I was almost there, he appeared again.

  Mason.

  I came to an abrupt halt and glanced around me, wishing someone else was there to witness this and settle the crazy-or-not thing once and for all. His pearly form stood there, hands in the pockets of his coat in an almost casual way that somehow made the experience that much weirder.

  "Well," I said, feeling surprisingly calm, despite the sorrow that washed over me whenever I saw him. "Glad to see you're alone again. I didn't really like the extras on the plane."

  He stared, expression blank and eyes sad. It made me feel worse, guilt twisting my stomach into knots. I broke.

  "What are you?" I cried. "Are you real? Am I going crazy?"

  To my surprise, he nodded.

  "Which?" I squeaked. "Yes, you're real?"

  He nodded.

  "Yes, I'm crazy?"

  He shook his head.

  "Well," I said, forcing a joke through my hurricane of emotions. "That's a relief, but honestly, what else would you say if you're a hallucination?"

  Mason just stared. I glanced around again, wishing someone would come by.

  "Why are you here? Are you mad at us and looking for revenge?"

  He shook his head, and something in me relaxed. Until that moment, I hadn't realized how worried I'd been about that. The guilt and grief had been wound up so tightly in me. Him blaming me—just as Ryan had—had seemed inevitable.

  "Are you … are you having trouble finding peace?"

  Mason nodded and seemed to grow sadder. I thought back to his final moments and swallowed back tears. I'd probably have a hard time finding peace too, taken from my life before it began.

  "Is there more than that, though? Another reason you keep coming to me?"

  He nodded.

  "What?" I asked. There were too many questions lately. I needed answers. "What is it? What do I need to do?"

  But anything other than a yes or no question was beyond us, apparently. He opened up his mouth as though he would say something. He looked like he was trying hard, like Adrian had with the plant. But no sound came out.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry I don't understand … and…I'm sorry for everything else."

  Mason gave me one last wistful look and then vanished.

  CHAPTER 20

  "Lets talk about your mother."

  I sighed. "What about her?"

  It was my first day of counseling, and so far, I wasn't impressed. Last night's Mason sighting was probably something I should have brought up right away. But I didn't want school officials to have any more reason to think I was losing my mind—even if I was.

  And honestly, I didn't know I was for sure. Adrian's analysis of my aura and the story of Anna certainly lent credence to me being on the road to Crazyville. Yet I didn't feel crazy. Did crazy people know if they really were? Adrian had said they didn't. Crazy itself was a weird term. I'd learned enough about psychology to know that it was also a very broad classification. Most forms of mental illness were actually very specific and had select symptoms—anxiety, depression, mood swings, etc. I didn't know where I fell on that scale, if I did at all.

  "How do you feel about her?" continued the counselor. "About your mother?"

  "That she's a great guardian and a so-so mother."

  The counselor, whose name was Deirdre, wrote something in her notebook. She was blond and Moroi-slim, clad in a teal cashmere sweater dress. She actually didn't look much older than me, but certificates on her desk swore she had all sorts of degrees in psychotherapy. Her office was in the administrative building, the same place the headmistress's office was, and where all other sorts of Academy busin
ess was conducted. I'd kind of been hoping for a couch to lie on, like therapists always had on TV, but the best I had was a chair. It was a comfy chair, at least. The walls were covered in nature pictures, things like butterflies and daffodils. I guess they were supposed to be soothing.

  "Do you want to elaborate on 'so-so'?" Deirdre asked.

  "It's an upgrade. A month ago I would have said 'horrible. What's this have to do with Mason?"

  "Do you want to talk about Mason?"

  I'd noticed she had a habit of answering my questions with questions.

  "I don't know," I admitted. "I guess that's what I'm here for."

  "How do you feel about him? About his death?"

  "Sad. How else should I feel?"

  "Angry?"

  I thought about the Strigoi, their leering faces and casual attitudes toward killing. "Yeah, a little."

  "Guilty?"

  "Sure, of course."

  "Why 'of course'?"

  "Because it's my fault he was there. I'd upset him…and he had this thing to prove. I told him where the Strigoi were, and I wasn't supposed to. If he hadn't known about them, he wouldn't have done it. He'd still be alive."

  "You don't think he was responsible for his own actions? That he was the one who chose to do that?"

  "Well… yeah. I guess he did. I didn't make him do it."

  "Any other reason you might feel guilty?"

  I looked away from her and focused on a picture of a ladybug. "He liked me—like romantically. We kind of dated, but I couldn't get into it. That hurt him."

  "Why couldn't you get into it?"

  "I don't know," I said. The image of his body, lying on the floor, flashed into my mind and I shoved it away. No way would I cry in front of Deirdre. "That's the thing. I should have. He was nice. He was funny. We got along really well … but it just didn't feel right. Even kissing or anything like that… I eventually just couldn't do it."

  "Do you feel like you have a problem with intimate contact?"

  "What do you—? Oh. No! Of course not."

  "Have you ever had sex with anyone?"

  "No. Are you saying I should have?"

  "Do you think you should have?"

  Damn. I'd thought I had her. I'd thought for sure she wouldn't have a question for that one. "Mason wasn't the right person."

  "Is there someone else? Someone you think might be the right person?"

  I hesitated. I'd lost track of how this related to me seeing ghosts. According to some paperwork I'd signed, everything we said in here was confidential. She couldn't tell anyone unless I was a danger to myself or doing something illegal. I wasn't entirely sure where a relationship with an older man fell there.

  "Yeah…but I can't tell you who he is."

  "How long have you known him?"

  "Almost six months."

  "Do you feel close?"

  "Yeah, sure. But we're not…" How exactly did one describe this? "We're not actually really involved. He's kind of … unavailable." She could think what she wanted about that, like that maybe I was interested in a guy with a girlfriend.

  "Is he the reason you couldn't get close to Mason?"

  "Yes."

  "And is he holding you back from dating someone else?"

  "Well… he's not like purposely doing anything."

  "But as long as you care about him, you're not interested in anyone else?"

  "Right. But it doesn't matter. I probably shouldn't even be dating anyone at all."

  "Why not?"

  "Because there's no time. I'm training to be a guardian. I have to give all my attention to Lissa."

  "And you don't think you can do that and be romantically involved with someone?"

  I shook my head. "No. I have to be willing to lay down my life for hers. I can't be distracted by someone else. We have this saying with the guardians: 'They come first. You guys. Moroi."

  "And so you figure you'll always have to put Lissa's needs ahead of yours?"

  "Of course." I frowned. "What else would I do? I'm going to be her guardian."

  "How does that make you feel? Giving up what you want for her?"

  "She's my best friend. And she's the last of her family."

  "That's not what I asked."

  "Yeah, but—" I stopped. "Hey, you didn't ask a question."

  "You think I always ask questions?"

  "Never mind. Look, I love Lissa. I'm happy to spend my life protecting her. End of story. Besides, are you, a Moroi, going to tell me, a dhampir, that I shouldn't be putting Moroi first? You know how the system works."

  "I do," she said. "But I'm not here to analyze it. I'm here to help you get better."

  "Seems like you might not be able to do one without the other."

  Deirdre's lips quirked into a smile, and then her eyes flicked to the clock. "We're out of time today. We'll have to pick this up next time."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "I thought you'd be giving me some kind of awesome advice or telling me what to do. But you just kept making me talk."

  She laughed softly. "Therapy isn't so much about what I think as you do."

  "Then why do it at all?"

  "Because we don't always know what it is we're thinking or feeling. When you have a guide, it's easier to figure things out. You'll often discover that you already know what to do. I can help you ask questions and go places you might not have on your own."

  "Well, you're good at the question part," I noted dryly.

  "While I don't have any 'awesome advice, I do have some things I want you to think about for when we talk again." She glanced down at her notepad and tapped it with her pencil while she thought. "First, I want you to think again about what I asked about Lissa—how you really feel about dedicating your life to her."

  "I already told you."

  "I know. Just think about it some more. If your answer's the same, that's fine. Then, I want you to consider something else. I want you to think about whether maybe the reason you're attracted to this unavailable guy is because he's unavailable."

  "That's crazy. That doesn't make any sense."

  "Is it? You just told me that you can't ever be involved with anyone. Do you think it's possible that wanting someone you can't have is your subconscious mind's way of coping? If it's impossible for you to have him, then you never have to confront feeling conflicted about Lissa. You'll never have to choose."

  "This is confusing," I grumbled.

  "It's supposed to be. That's why I'm here."

  "What's this have to do with Mason?"

  "It has to do with you, Rose. That's what's important."

  I left therapy feeling like my brain had melted. I also kind of felt like I'd been on trial. If Deirdre had been there to grill Victor, they probably would have finished up in half the time.

  I also thought Deirdre had totally been going in the wrong direction. Of course I didn't resent Lissa. And the thought that I'd fallen for Dimitri because I couldn't have him was ridiculous. I'd never even thought of the conflict with guarding until he'd mentioned it. I'd fallen for him because … well, because he was Dimitri. Because he was sweet, strong, funny, fierce, and gorgeous. Because he understood me.

  And yet, as I walked back to the commons, I found her question spinning around in my brain. I might not have been thinking about a relationship distracting us in our guard duties, but I'd certainly known from the start that his age and job were huge barriers. Could that have really played a part? Had some piece of me known we could never really have anything—thus allowing me to always stay dedicated to Lissa?

  No, I decided firmly. That was ridiculous. Deirdre might be good at asking questions, but she was clearly asking the wrong ones.

  "Rose!"

  I looked to my right and saw Adrian cutting across the lawn toward me, oblivious to the slush's effects on his designer shoes.

  "Did you just call me 'Rose'?" I asked. "And not 'little dhampir'? I don't think that's ever happened."

  "It happens all the time,"
he countered, catching up to me.

  We stepped inside the commons. School was in session, so the halls were empty.

  "Where's your better half?" he asked.

  "Christian?"

  "No, Lissa. You can tell where she is, right?"

  "Yeah, I can tell because it's last period, and she's in class like everyone else. You keep forgetting that for the rest of us, this is a school."

  He looked disappointed. "I found more case files I wanted to talk to her about. More super-compulsion stuff."

  "Whoa, you've been doing something productive? I'm impressed."

  "You're one to talk," he said. "Especially considering your whole existence here revolves around beating people up. You dhampirs are uncivilized—but then, that's why we love you."

  "Actually," I mused, "we aren't the only ones doing beatings lately." I'd nearly forgotten about my royal fight club mystery. There were so many things I had to worry about lately. It was like trying to hold water in my hands. It was a long shot, but I had to ask him. "Does the word Mână mean anything to you?"

  He leaned against the wall and reached for his cigarettes. "Sure."

  "You're inside the school," I warned.

  "What—oh, right." With a sigh, he put the pack back in his coat. "Don't half of you study Romanian here? It means 'hand. "

  "I study English here." Hand. That didn't make any sense.

  "Why the interest in translation?"

  "I don't know. I think I got it wrong. I thought it had some connection to this thing that's been going on with these royals."

  Recognition flashed in his eyes. "Oh Lord. Not that. Are they really doing it here too?"

  "Doing what?"

  "The Mână. The Hand. It's this stupid secret society that pops up at schools. We had a chapter of it back at Alder. It's mostly a bunch of royals getting together and having secret meetings to talk about how much better they are than everyone else."

  "That's it then," I said. The pieces clicked together. "That's Jesse and Ralf's little group—the one they tried to get Christian to join. That's what this Mână is."

  "Him?" Adrian laughed. "They must have been desperate—and I don't mean that as a slam against Christian. He's just not really the type to get into that kind of thing."