He suddenly felt overheated—to the point of being feverish. Leaning his forehead against the cool stone wall, he loosened his tie, unbuttoning his collar; it helped, but not enough. His head was pounding, each beat of his heart sending waves of pain pulsing through his brain—it felt as if it had expanded, pressing against the bony confines that surrounded it.
Then suddenly—it was gone.
A familiar feeling flowed over him—soothing warmth, as if sunlight had been made liquid and injected into his veins. His eyes shot open and he spun around, knocking her frail hand away from his shoulder. He moved—so fast it seemed almost impossible—launching himself as far away as he could get.
"Savva! I'm sorry! I was only trying to help—to take away your pain!"
"You little fool—do you not understand? Have you not been listening to my tale? The more you use it… the stronger your madness grows! That was what finally pushed Sofiya over the edge! You have to fight the urge to give in Madam—if you ever want to see Mikhail… to be with him… you must fight if you want to be free."
Her eyes dropped to the floor, her cheeks flooding with color. "I'm sorry… I didn't think."
"You must think! You must stop and consider your actions whenever you feel it calling you. If you don't…. then you cannot be saved." His hands clenched into fists as he grappled with himself—trying to control the intense panic the brush of her magic had stirred. The familiar feeling propelling him back in time to the last time he'd experienced it—the worst night of his existence. "I am sorry I snapped at you, little bird—but the slightest use of your element helps the madness seep in. Before you use it to heal a plant or a headache or even to see that I am feeling… you must ask yourself is it worth the cost. Each one of those things… it is like a brick stacked one upon the next until they eventually surround your mind, trapping you inside."
"Did it help her? Your blood?" Sonya's voice was soft and hesitant, her eyes still locked on the floor.
"It did… but not much. The more the insanity increased… the harder it was to push it away again," he answered softly.
"But… why did it help? I don't understand. I feed regularly… but it doesn't affect my… crazed spells. It never has."
"I do not have an answer for that, Madam. I have theories… things I have put together from hints my aunt has dropped….but I have no proof to back up those thoughts." He began pacing again—resembling a caged animal that had been captive for far too long. " She was in love with a Spirit user once… so in love that when he died, she never even looked for another lover. They shared blood and it helped him the same way it did Sofiya. Yeva called it a blood bond."
"I wonder… did you ever feel … different… afterwards? More angry or… irritable? That's how it is with a shadow bond—at least… it seems to affect Rosemarie that way."
His head shot up, brow furrowing. "Rosemarie? Rosemarie Hathaway? Janine's daughter?"
"Yes… I think she's bonded to a Spirit user—the Dragomir princess." Sonya slowly returned to her seat, sinking down in the chair; her eyes darted up to meet his, holding a hint of hysteria in their depths. "I told her they had to get out of there… before everyone realized that Lissa is like me. I hope… that for once… she listened."
"She didn't. Both girls are still at the Academy." Savva cursed in Russian, resuming his restless pacing. "What is this… shadow bond?"
"The strigoi told you that Spirit users could bring back things from the dead…" her blue eyes dropped to the table; when she continued, her voice was a whisper. "Vasilisa did."
His pace faltered, making him stumble; every part of his brain was declaring that there was no way what she said was true. It was impossible that the lively, rambunctious girl he'd met had died and been brought back to life. He turned to inquire further, but the look on Sonya's face stopped him; he moved closer, slowly, his eyes running over her, taking in the way she was rigid and tense—her hands clutching the edge of the table in a grip so tight that the skin over her knuckles was white with strain. "We will talk of such things another time—unless you don't want me to tell you more about Sofiya today?"
The Moroi woman visibly relaxed—the agitation she was in over Rosemarie and the princess fading away before his eyes. "Please… I'd like to hear more… if you're sure that you feel up to it."
He sat, steepling his fingers in front of his lips as he gathered his thoughts for a moment. "As I said… the blood helped her a little—but where it's effects would have once lasted for a month or more, our reprieve was barely two days…"
He was brushing out Sofiya's long dark hair when the envelope was delivered; she didn't even look up when one of the staff guardians entered the room with it in hand. She simply continued humming an off key tune, rocking the doll that one of the nurses had brought her—an attempt to satisfy her heart wrenching please to hold their lost baby in her arms.
"Luzhkov—sorry to bother you… this was left at the gatehouse. It has your name on it—I thought it might be important." The dhampir held out a small, cream colored envelope, pointedly keeping his eyes on the floor, not looking at the woman on the bed; she'd begun cooing to the doll, telling it to be a good girl in front of Papa's visitor.
"Who left it?" Savva set the hairbrush down, reaching for the envelope; the handwriting on the thick, expensive vellum was not one that he recognized.
"No idea—whoever left it slipped it under the door when we were changing shifts. You know what a mad house it is down there when…" the man pursed his lips, cutting himself off , realizing a heartbeat too late that his words were in very poor taste. "I'm sorry… I didn't—"
"It is alright, Denys—I know what you meant." Savva gave the man a tired smile, holding out his hand. "Thank you for bringing it to me."
The guardian's eyes flicked over to Sofiya, then back to Savva's face. "Is she… do they think she'll ever be herself again?"
"They cannot say for certain…but ever since I was a boy, my aunt had always said that where there is life, there is hope. Sofiya is alive—so my hope will never fade." Rubbing his forehead wearily, he glanced over at his fiancé. "I believe in miracles, Denys. My prayers… they will be answered."
"We're all rooting for you both—don't forget you have friends who are willing to help if you need it." Denys clasped him on the shoulder, shaking his head. "You need to take a break from this—even if it's only for an hour or two. Why don't I sit with her and you can go—"
"No. Thank you. My place is by her side… it always has been and always will be."
The guardian leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "She wouldn't want you to waste your life locked up in here with her—think about that."
Savva bristled, visible tensing. "I do not think you understand what love really is… and it makes me very sad for you."
"I didn't mean—"
"No—this time I believe you said exactly what you meant… though I would think that by now you would realize that I am not the type of man who roams. Even when we were novices you tried to get me to… how did you put it—expand my horizons?—but my answer now is the same one I gave then. Sofiya is my life. Without her… I am nothing."
"You need to go. Now." Sofiya's normally soft, gentle voice was full of anger and malice, startling both men; her lucidity had reappeared—perhaps only for a few fleeting moments—and she'd spent them listening to what had been said.
"Lady Badica… I am sorry if I offended you." Denys bowed deeply, his eyes on the floor.
"Get. Out." She dropped the doll, rising up from the bed in one swift movement; her gray eyes narrowed, locking on the guardian's face as she approached him. "Or do I have to make you leave?"
"Sofochka—" Savva turned towards her, giving her a soft smile. "Calm yourself, please. Denys was just leaving." He jerked his head towards the doorway; the man took the hint immediately turning to go.
Sofiya was quicker; she struck like a snake, darting around her lover's body. Her pale hand latched on to Denys' arm, fingernails digging into his skin. "Too late—he shouldn't have tried to take you away from me." She giggled—a high maniacal sound that tore at Savva's heart. "Now he has to pay the piper!"
Denys made the mistake of glancing at her face—immediately he was trapped within her gaze; a heartbeat later, he began to moan, making noises like a frightened animal. Sofiya laughed; he fell to his knees, curling up in a ball and whimpering.
Savva moved without conscious thought, wrapping his arms around her thin body; his head ducked down so he could whisper in her ear—the one thing he knew would distract her. "Sofiya… Katya needs you—look at how frightened she is…"
His words broke through her insane rage; Denys was forgotten as she raced back to the bed, scooping up the doll and holding it close to her breast. "Mama is sorry, little angel…she didn't mean to leave you."
The fallen guardian was visibly shaking as he slowly tried to rise; he opened his mouth to speak, but Savva silenced him with a furious glare as he set the envelope down on the nightstand and reclaimed the hairbrush. "Get out. Now—while you can." He resumed the long, sweeping strokes, beginning to hum softly as he did what he could to soothe her. He ignored the Denys' murmured apologies, not looking away from the woman in front of him until he heard the soft click of the door closing in his wake.
"Savva?" Her voice was a soft whisper.
"Hmmm?"
"It's happening… isn't it? I'm sorry that I am leaving you… you know it is not my choice."
His heart felt like a stone in his chest. "Do not talk like that Sofochka—we will beat this thing together."
"I've tried to fight it … but it's getting harder and harder every day."
He dropped the brush, pulling her into his arms; the Strigoi's haunting voice echoed through his mind as he held her. Could he allow Sofiya to suffer when there was a way she could be free? "We haven't talked about what he offered you… have you considered it at all?"
She turned, burying her face in his neck, her thin body trembling as he held her. "No. I could never do it Savva…The love I have for you…it is what I live for. It's why I fight against the black fog that creeps into my mind. If I did it… I would lose that, Savva—don't you see? What would be the point in reclaiming my mind if it cost me the ability to love? I would be an empty shell of who I used to be…only I'd lose my soul in the process. At least when the madness takes me… I know I will be with you again someday in Heaven."
"It will not happen… I won't let it," he said, his voice fierce—as if he could physically take on the madness, fighting to protect her against something he couldn't see, much less touch.
"I wish we were far away from here… in a little cottage of our own. Somewhere where none of this was happening to us."
"As soon as you are better… that is exactly what we will do. To hell with this place—we will go where you will be happy."
"But… you love being a guardian," she whispered; he could hear the remorse in her voice.
"Sofochka… I would still be a guardian—I'm your guardian. I don't care about being on the staff here—the only reason I'm here is to be with you, remember? You're the only thing that matters to me."
She tilted her head back to gaze up at him, her lips curving up in a sad little smile. "I have loved you from the moment I met you. I know that seems impossible to believe—that a six year old girl could feel such a thing… but I swear to you it is the truth, Please… remember that when I am gone. Even in madness, I will love you still, my sweet Savva."
"Hush—no more talk like that. You will not leave me. This is a test—our trial by fire. We will emerge stronger than ever from the other side." His fingertips traced along the fine bone of her cheek as he gazed into her eyes, willing her to believe.
"I would like very much to believe just that… but we both know it is not true." Her head returned to his shoulder; she nuzzled against his neck. "I am frightened… so scared of what's to come. Not for me… for you. I worry how you will cope when I'm nothing but a shadow…lost inside my mind."
"Sofochka… what would old Father Grisha say to hear you speak like this? Remember what he taught us? From the Good book? If you have a smidgen of faith as tiny as a mustard seed… nothing is impossible."
She exhaled deeply—the world weary sigh of a person who's burdens were just too much to bear. "I'm tired my love… so very tired. Will you tell me a story to help me sleep?"
"Ach—I know just the one." He shifted, reclining back against the narrow bed, holding her close to his heart. "It is about a lonely little boy who was wandering in the woods one day and came across a young nymph. She was sitting down by the water's edge of a pond not far from his home—and she was so beautiful that the sight of her stole his heart away. Her hair was as black as the midnight sky—and her skin was like freshly fallen snow. He watched her, entranced by the way the water reflected in her lovely eyes—too frightened to move closer lest he frighten her away. Then she turned her head and saw him… she smiled… and he fell instantly in love."
For hours he spoke, his voice soft and soothing, reciting every moment they'd shared since the first time that he saw her. Long after her breathing evened out with sleep he spoke—as if he were trying to cement each memory firmly in her unconscious mind. When his voice gave out, he glanced down at her—she was smiling in her sleep. Only then did he carefully reach over, picking up the envelope he'd placed there hours before.
What he found inside was the last thing in the world he expected.
Guardian Luzhkov;
You do not know me, but I was once a victim, much like Lady Badica. I have held my silence for two long years out of fear. The men who attacked me have powerful friends and family—this has made me terrified of what they might do to me and mine. I was well paid for my silence, but in light of recent events… I can no longer hold my tongue.
I know the name of the man you are seeking—even more importantly, I have proof there were bribes exchanged to cover the incident up. I have gone to great personal risk to attain it, for I cannot bear to watch poor Sofiya suffer for a single minute more.
Please meet me tomorrow at the barn where they found her. I will be there two hours after sunset.
Come alone or I dare not show my face.
—A Friend
P.S. If you need proof that what I say is true, ask the nurses and doctors in the clinic about the dhampir girl they treated who refused to give her name. I did not attend Saint Basil's—I was drugged at a party and smuggled onto the campus—taken to the Moroi boys dorm. The dorm matron found me tied up in the storage closet on the third floor and rushed me to the clinic.
Every word I say is the truth. You must believe me—for Sofiya's sake.
All through the long night, he stared at the letter, reading and rereading the words until they blurred before his eyes, contemplating what he should do. He was no fool—he knew very well that to go would be a risk; it could be a trap—set up to get him away from Sofiya, leaving her on her own.
He finally moved when one of the nurses tapped lightly on the door; under the woman's pitying gaze, he slid out from under Sofiya's thin frame, immediately heading down the hall to use the phone. He needed advice, but his old friend did not answer—the phone rang and rang, but it was apparent that nobody was home. Replacing the receiver, he leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried to decide if he should call the Badica Prince.
"Savva? Are you all right?" The brush of a hand on his cheek made him flinch back without meaning to. "I'm sorry… you just look… unwell."
"I am fine, Nurse Zhabin," he said, unable to keep his voice from sounding cold.
She tensed. "I… I'm sorry for bringing him here. But you heard what he said… he can help her. Think about it Savva—Sofiya with her mind intact. She'd be like she was before!"
"No—she would not. She would lose her soul." He closed his eyes again, frowning. "Do you have any idea how many lives you endangered by your thoughtless actions, Eva?"
"He swore to me he wouldn't harm anyone unless he was attacked—"
"And you believed him?" His eyes shot open, locking with hers. "A man who has no soul is incapable of honoring their word."
"He did honor it—he didn't kill anyone on this campus." Her eyes dropped down to the letter in his hand. "What's that? Another letter from the Council? Have they changed their minds about the decree?"
"No…" He glanced down at the paper, hesitant to show her—could he truly trust a woman that was so enamored with a monster? "What can you tell me about a girl that was attacked two years ago—one that refused to give her name?"
Eva frowned, her brow wrinkling as she studied him for a moment. "Come with me. Please."
She turned, swiftly heading towards the small lounge room where he sometimes went for coffee; he followed, matching her pace. "Guardian Luzhkov… have you met Doctor Rasha Kalyagin?"
"No… I have not had the pleasure. Good day to you sir." He reached out, grasping the Moroi man's hand in a perfunctory handshake before returning his questioning gaze to the woman who stood beside him."
"If memory serves me correctly… Rasha is the doctor who worked on the patient you asked about." Eva walked over to the counter, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. "The dhampir girl, Rasha… the one with the wire around her wrists and ankles."
The doctor nodded, glancing form her to Savva. "Yes—what about her?"
Savva glanced down at the letter, frowning. "Can you confirm some information for me sir?"
"Well now… that depends. We're not allowed to discuss—"
"I understand. I just need to confirm the most basic of facts—ones that you would probably gave the guardians when you reported the incident." Savva took the mug Eva held out to him, nodding his thanks.
"That I can do. She was seventeen or eighteen… in pretty bad condition. She'd been fed on repeatedly… covered in bites all over the… uh… intimate parts of her body. She was severely dehydrated as well—the bastards hadn't given her any food or water for several days. They had her locked in a closet of some sort… bound her arms behind her back with wire. And they'd used the same wire to tie her legs. She never did tell us her name… in fact… she disappeared during a shift change—snuck out."
Savva nodded slowly, then bowed his head. "Thank you—that is what I needed to know. If you will excuse me—I must get back before Sofiya wakes up. I do not want her fretting and wondering where I am."
"Certainly, but Guardian Luzhkov… If I may ask, why did you want—"
"I received some information on the incident and simply needed to check it's validity, sir." He turned—intending to head back towards the phone to try and reach Ibrahim again before returning to Sofiya's room.
He didn't quite make it—Eva followed after him, grabbing his elbow and halting his progress; he hissed in pain as the hot beverage sluiced over the rim of the mug, burning his fingers in the process. "Let me see what's in that letter."
"It is of no concern—"
"Let me be the judge of that—after all, I'm the one who just helped you, remember?"
"If I say no—" Savva fought to keep his voice even, determined not to let her see how strongly her words affected him "—will you threaten me again, the way you did at the farmhouse? Perhaps this time you will use the death of Yakov against me?"
"No… but I think the amount of good I've done in the past outweighs that one slip I made in an angry moment, don't you? Who helped you sneak out of here? Who defended you when Boreyev was determined to lock you up?" She released him, frowning. "Maybe I can help you, Savva. That's all I want…. to help you and Sofiya."
He gazed at her in silence, weighing his options. Someone needed to know what was going on—just in case it did turn out to be a trick; he would prefer it to be Ibrahim, but if the Moroi woman was his only option, he would have to make do with the resource he had. "Let me make a phone call first… then I will discuss it with you." He nodded his head towards Sofiya's room, handing her his cup. "Please…give me a moment… then I will join you."
Ibrahim still did not answer; he felt a twinge of worry for his friend—hoping that there wasn't a problem with the man's pregnant fiancé. There was nothing he could do about it—his plate was already overflowing with problems of his own without borrowing more from others. He forced himself to set aside his concern over Mazur as he returned to the room where Sofiya still slept, handing the letter over to Eva and watching in silence as her eyes scanned the page. The lines of worry at the bridge of her nose deepened into creases as she looked up at him, shaking her head.
"Please tell me you're not actually considering going through with this."
"I am."
"It's an obvious trap—don't be an idiot!"
"I have no choice—"
"Savva… ignoring the fact that what happened to that girl was common knowledge to anyone living in the dormitory at the time—so literally anyone could have sent this… let's focus on the obvious. The assholes who attacked her could easily have added that just to lure you in." She shook the letter. "Look at the paper—vellum like this costs a small fortune. Do you really think a dhampir girl could afford it?"
"She said she was paid off—"
The nurse made a sound of frustration, her fingernails digging into his skin as she latched on to his wrist. "Then why didn't they pay off anyone else? How does this girl even know what happened to Sofiya—she clearly states she does not go to school here."
"She could be related to one of the campus guardians or dhampir staff members…" His eyes flicked over to Sofiya, lingering there a moment before returning to Eva's face. "You are probably right… but what if you're not? What if this is the one chance I have to obtain proof of the council's wrongdoing? I have to do this, Eva—not just for Sofiya, but for every girl that has been abused only to watch her attackers walk away free without even receiving a slap on the wrist for the actions. They all deserve justice… you know I am right."
Her jaw tensed as she handed the letter back to him. "At least take someone with you."
He shook his head. "I cannot. You read what it says—they won't show their face if they see anyone accompanying me."
"You seem to be forgetting a very important thing…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "there is someone you can take who can blend in with the shadows, moving about without anyone seeing him. If Voda and Szelsky are there…your bargain would be fulfilled. Let me tell Isaiah about this… he can meet you—"
"No! I will not endanger every life on this campus just to protect myself! I will handle this in my own way!" His hands fisted as he tried to control his anger; he needed her help—lashing out at her would not do. "You said that you want to help Sofiya… if that is still the case… I will need your help."
Her lips thinned into a tight, disapproving line at his angry outburst. "With?"
"Stay with her this evening until I return—in case this is all a ruse to get me away from her bedside." He glanced down at the letter in his hand, slowly holding it out to her. "Keep this… if I do not return,,, it will be up to you to make sure it reached the queen. So she knows what kind of treachery is being covered up."
"I can't. I'm sorry—I have an… appointment at sunset." Two bright spots of color appeared on her pale cheeks as her eyes flicked away from him.
"The Strigoi can wait—this cannot, Eva. One way or another… we can end this tonight. No more girls will ever be brutalized again—but I need your help to insure it."
"Damn you for saying that Savva Luzhkov." She sighed, taking the letter. "You know I can't say no when you put it like that."
"One more thing—I promise it is the last request I will make. If something does happen and things go wrong… contact Ibrahim Mazur and tell him my last wish was that he watch over my Sofochka. That he take her somewhere safe… where she can live out her life in comfort."
"Keep talking like that and I'll refuse to help you." She glanced over at the bed, frowning. "What do I tell her if she wakes up and asks where you are?"
He thought about it for a moment; he hated the thought of lying to Sofiya—even if indirectly, via a third party. "Tell her I went to the cabin for a shower and to change my clothes. It won't be entirely untrue—I'll need to stop off there and gather a few things before the meeting."
"A gun being one of them, I hope," she said, her voice flat and sarcastic.
"I will be fine… I will survive for her." He smiled—the barest twist of his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I must live so that I can find a way to save her mind—that is the most important thing."
SAVVA SPENT THE DAY sitting with Sofiya; she vacillated between periods of lucidity and madness, switching from one to the other almost mercurially in a way that left him on edge and emotionally drained. One moment she would be softly smiling, talking about a memory from their childhood, then the next thing he knew she was crying, demanding to know where Katya was. He watched as she cuddled the doll to her breast, his heart twisting at her soft whispers about all the things their little family would do when she was older. Those whispered dreams could never be fulfilled—they left him aching, filling him with a longing that would never be sated.
An hour after the sky had darkened outside the window, Eva appeared with a treat for Sofiya—her favorite dessert; he gently coaxed his fiancé, trying to get her to eat, smiling and praising her each time she took a mouthful. The nurse hovered, watching them, waiting for a chance to administer the injection she'd brought—a sedative to insure the girl would sleep throughout the time he would be gone. It worked amazingly fast—within twenty minutes, Sofiya was fast asleep, her thin body curled protectively around her doll.
"My shift ended an hour ago. When were you planning—?" Eva stopped talking abruptly when one of her coworkers appeared in the doorway.
"Just need to check her vitals—won't be but a moment." The woman smiled at them both, moving towards the bed.
"I'm glad you're here Darya—maybe you can help me talk some sense into Guardian Luzhkov," Eva said, shooting him a look behind the woman's back. "I told him he needs to go shower and change clothes—he is starting to look and smell like a wild man."
"Eva!" The other woman spun around, trying not to laugh. "You can't go around saying things like that… although I do agree Guardian Luzhkov… you could do with a nice relaxing shower. I'm sure Lady Badica would enjoy seeing your handsome face without all that stubble."
His eyes darted between the two women—trying to keep his expression neutral. "I am aware that my hygiene has been less than adequate of late… but I do not want to leave her side. If she were to awaken and find me gone… she might become distressed."
"I'll stay with her—I don't mind." Eva piped up. "I don't have anything pressing to attend to at home since my husband is in Saint Petersburg on business until next week."
Savva nodded slowly. "If you are sure—"
"I am—" she shoved him towards the door. "—now get out of here, you smell like a skunk."
"I swear Eva! I don't know what gets into you!" Darya laughed as she changed out the bag of fluid on the IV stand. "I'll bring you a few magazines to keep you occupied as soon as I get done with this."
"Here—I'll do it." Eva moved to take over, shooting her coworker a smile. "You run and get the magazines. Savva—go on, I mean it!"
"Don't forget to shave," Darya said as she walked past him. "You have such a nice jaw line it's a shame to see it hidden."
Blushing at the compliment, Savva pulled on his jacket, stooping to kiss Sofiya's forehead before he turned towards the door.
"Savva…. Be careful. Please."
He glanced back at Eva, nodding. "I will. I swear it."
"I'm… sorry." It was the faintest whisper—so soft he almost missed it.
He paused in the doorway, shooting her a questioning look. "For what?"
"For everything" Her eyes dropped to Sofiya's face; she reached out her hand , stroking a strand of dark hair that was spread across the pillow.. Never mind… I'm just being sentimental. Go on… I'll see you soon."
He nodded, but her choice of words troubled him—they sent a prickle of unease dancing along his spine. He forced himself to move, conscious of the fact that he'd already tarried far too long—he wanted to arrive at the meeting spot early, just in case it was a trap. Crossing the campus quickly, he averted his eyes as he entered the cabin; the still emptiness of the rooms would be a torment. Without Sofiya there, it was an empty desolate place—one that was filled with reminders of their shattered dreams. He did not want to see the tiny clothing she'd been knitting or the pregnancy books that she'd left strewn about—he kept his eyes on the floor, heading straight for the bedroom so he could change clothes and get out before the weight of his misery crushed him.
He dressed as if he were going on a raid—his clothing all black to help him merge with the shadows, the layers bulky and thick, giving added layers of protection in case he ran into trouble. He was tightening the laces on his combat boots when the phone began to ring; he ignored it at first, but when it persisted, he let out a curse and stalked over to the desk, scooping it up—his voice a brusque growl. "Luzhkov."
"Listen to me—go back now, Do not got through with this, boy."
The anxiety in his aunt's voice stunned him; for a moment, he could not speak. When he found his voice it came out hushed—little more than a murmur. "What have you seen?"
"Things I cannot piece together. Blood. Fighting. A feeling of…great loss. The images aren't clear… it is mostly… sensations. There is… a great blackness, like a void." He heard her take a drink of something; she gasped—a hissing sound that made her voice raspy. "Go back to your woman, Savva. Cherish the time she has left."
"Would you follow that advice if Anton were still living, slowly losing his mind?" His tightly coiled anger snapped as he was pushed to the point of breaking; he was tired of everyone reminding him just how little time they had left. "Tell me Yeva… what happened to the man that killed your beloved? The last I heard he was still among the missing—his body never found."
She was silent for several moments; when she answered, her voice was low and weary. "The desire for vengeance runs in our veins nephew… it is a very dangerous thing. Even when your enemies are scattered at your feet, and their blood is cooling on your skin… it will not be enough to satiate its hunger. Do not repeat my mistakes, Savva. Let it go. If you don't, it will always linger inside you like a tumor, killing you slowly from within."
"I apologize for my rudeness," he said, troubled by how broken she sounded.
"In calling you I have attempted to change your fate, nephew. I have warned you—that is all I can do. When the worst happens… remember what I have always taught you. Where there is life… there is hope."
"Yeva—"
"That is all I can say. May God above watch over you and guide the choices you make."
He stood holding the phone long after she had hung up, mulling over the words of wisdom she had given him—trying to decide what to do. Sighing deeply, he replaced the receiver on its cradle. As he opened the bottom drawer of the desk, removing his sheathed stake from within and attaching it to his belt, he could faintly hear the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. It sped his movements—he knew he had to move fast if he wanted to scope out the location before the coming storm hit and the rain impaired his vision.
His aunt was right about one thing—every part of his being cried out for vengeance, and it would not quiet or still until every single man who had harmed Sofiya paid for the crime. It was a blood price—nothing less would do.
THE AREA WHERE THE meeting was to occur was a far cry from the well maintained, brightly lit pathways that circles around the dorms and academic buildings in the more populated parts of the campus. Out of use since the turn of the century when horsemanship was a popular pastime for the Royals, the forest had long since reclaimed the pastureland around the dilapidated, abandoned barn where the Royal's ponies once grazed. The storm front that was moving in made the night even darker, blocking out even the faint, ambient light that the moon and stars would normally provide; the only illumination came from the jagged flashes of lightning that intermittently lit up the ink black sky. As he circled around the barn, surveying the area for any sign of trouble, he tensed each time the cracking rumble of thunder sounded; he could not help but wonder if it was a warning from above—God himself echoing the ominous sentiments his aunt had shared with him.
It did not matter; it was too late to turn back—he was no longer alone. From the darkest shadows beneath the trees, he watched as a small curvy figure crept up to the barn, cracking open the door and slipping inside the decaying structure; a moment later, a flickering, faint glow could be seen emanating through the myriad of cracks and holes in the weathered wood. He waited, slowly counting out two hundred heartbeats—alert for any sign that she was not alone; only when he was sure that no one was following her did he make his way to the door.
The smell of rotting hay assaulted him as he entered; the old, sour odor mixed with the bitter chemical scent of the kerosene burning in the lantern—but even that was not enough to drown out the aroma of the cheap perfume the girl wore. His eyes flicked around—searching the interior for her location; she was hidden by the shadows, huddling underneath the ladder to the hay loft—far enough back in the small alcove that the lantern's glow barely reached her.
"Guardian Luzhkov… you came." Her voice was low and rich, lightly touched with traces of an accent that he couldn't quite place. "Come closer…this seems to be the only spot that isn't drafty. You came alone?"
"I did." He moved closer, peering into the darkness—trying to see her more clearly. "If I may ask… how did you get on the campus without being spotted?"
"There's a tree that grows close to the fence along the west boundary. I climbed it and dropped over. I will need your assistance to go out the same way, if you are willing to give it." She shifted, but still the light did not quite reach her; he took a step closer, then another. "You didn't tell anyone about my letter, I hope? I cannot risk them knowing that I came here."
"No, I did not—I understand your need for secrecy, Miss…" his voice trailed off—he waited for her to offer her name. She didn't. "You have me at a disadvantage since you already know who I am. I will need your name, please."
She chuckled, stepping out of the shadows; automatically he added ten years to her age—she wasn't a girl at all, but a woman, fully grown. "I am Ariana. Ariana Voda. Grigori… is my brother."
Too late he realized her reasoning for hiding herself away—she'd lured him much further into the barn than he'd intended to go. There was rapid movement in his peripheral vision; he turned his head slowly—watching with narrowed eyes as several black clothed figures stepped out of the dark shadows around the perimeter of the wall. Seven of them total—and they'd armed themselves as well.
Had it not been for the rage that filled him, he might have been amused by the sight.
"Planks of wood… and… what is that… a bandy stick? Are you here to fight or challenge me to a game of sport?" He asked softly, slowly unleashing the anger he'd kept so tightly reined in.
"Drop the stake, dhampir." Rudolf Szelsky spoke first, stepping forward and brandishing a wicked looking hunting knife. "Then we can get down to business."
"And that would be?"
"You're going to tell us where our friends are—we have ways of making you talk."
He snorted. "Tell me, Szelsky, how long have you waited to use that tired old line? This isn't a spy movie, gentlemen. Witty lines and quips will not help you… and though I am sure you think you have me in a precarious position… I assure you… it is you who will be unmanned tonight."
"I hardly think so—I know dhampir sight is inferior to ours, so maybe you failed to notice that you're outnumbered." Grigori Voda stepped forward, his fist clenching around the rusty pipe he held.
"Oh no… I noticed. You see… the problem is… there are only seven of you… and that is not even enough to make me break a sweat, Lord Voda. It is truly a pity that no one is here to witness the comeuppance I will deliver to you tonight." Sava turned his head, his eyes flicking over the pale faces, his composure calm, betraying nothing of the maelstrom that was brewing within him. "I will offer you one chance—give me the one I seek and this can end now. I will not harm you. Give me the man who brutalized my Sofiya the worst, killing the babe inside her—it is a wergild price… your lives for his."
In the dim light, Szelsky seemed to falter. "Our… lives. That means… the others are dead?"
"They are." Savva's voice was soft. "They died in the most painful way you can imagine… but it will be nothing compared to what I will do to the one that killed my child."
"It's a trick Rudi," Voda moved closer to his sister, glaring in Savva's direction. "He's a guardian… he would not kill a Royal—he would not break his oath."
"Does this mean you refuse my offer?"
"It means I see through your bullshit—you didn't kill Oleg and the others."
"I never said I did the killing, Voda… I gave them to a Strigoi—and I promised him that he would have two more Royals soon." There was a gasp from one of the others; Savva's dark eyes flicked around the room, his face expressionless as he let his words sink in. Most of the Moroi present were non-royal—the type who hung around the fringes of the Royal crowd, hoping to be accepted in their ranks. They were about to pay far more than they'd intended to fit in with their peers. "I think perhaps he will be very pleased if I include the rest of you in our bargain."
"Fuck this—" one of the smallest of the Moroi dropped the plank of wood he was holding, heading for the door. "You said this was a prank Rudolf. I didn't agree to—"
Voda lashed out as the boy passed him, crashing the lead pipe down against the back of his skull. As the boy collapsed, Voda turned to glare at the others—all of them were staring in shock at their fallen friend as he twitched and convulsed on the floor. "Anyone else thinking about chickening out?"
No one spoke.
"Good—then stick to the fucking plan."
Hesitantly, the Moroi moved forward—presumably thinking to overwhelm him by the sheer force of their number. The fools did not realize that the dhampir had spent his entire life training to fight against such uncertain odds—and from a much more dangerous type of foe.
Savva crouched down, his lips curving up in a feral smile as he beckoned them on with his hands. There was no fear in his voice—only an undercurrent of danger that they all seemed to miss. "The pleasure is all mine. Come."
The largest of the group rushed forward, his bandy stick raised and drawn back—aimed for Savva's temple. The guardian ducked as the Moroi swung, grabbing his arm and jerking it backwards as he simultaneously kicked the boys knee. A low, wet popping sound echoed through the enclosed space as arm and knee both broke, followed by a high pitched scream of pain.
Savva shoved him aside. There was no time to gloat—five more to go.
He spun, grabbing the wrist of the closest attacker, slamming his fist against the Moroi's face. Immediately he followed up with a punches to the boy's throat and temple, dropping the unconscious body to the ground as he moved on to his next victim.
Two down. No… three if you counted the dissident that Voda had killed.
Something slammed into his shoulder; he stumbled, but did not lose his balance. He stooped, grabbing up the discarded bandy stick, slamming it against the Moroi's spine as he straightened up—kneeing the boy in the face as the boy doubled over from the pain of the blow. Blood sprayed as his nose flattened; he crawled away whimpering.
There was movement from his left; immediately he lasted out with the makeshift club. There was a loud crack as it connected with someone's skull. Another Moroi crumpled in a heap, not moving.
Savva's smile was savage as the blood lust roared through him, more powerful than even the strongest adrenalin high. "It appears that is just down to the three of us, gentlemen. Are you ready to give me what I want? Tell me his name—if you do I swear this will be over."
"You'll have to kill us first." Voda lunged at him.
Savva reacted automatically, delivering a swift kick to the man's groin. As the Moroi doubled over, he chuckled darkly. "Did you think you would be able to do what your little friends could not? You cannot beat me Lord Voda—I am here to deliver God's vengeance for your sins."
As his hands locked around the Moroi Lord's pale throat, Szelsky dropped his knife, taking a step back, increasing the distance between them. "It was—"
"Shut up you moron!" Voda wheezed, cutting him off. "Tell him and we're both dead—as long as he needs the name we'll get out of this alive."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
The voice was the last one he expected to hear; it was the one thing that could quell the violence that rode him, distracting him from his purpose. Savva's grip loosened; the Moroi slumped to the ground. As he turned towards the entrance, he could see Voda crawling across the floor from the corner of his eye—but even that was not enough to tear his attention away from the figure standing beside the open door.
"I think perhaps you gentlemen forgot to invite me to your little party." Sofiya smiled as she stepped forward; her black hair was wild and free, the wind making it dance around her body like a dark cloud. Over her hospital gown she wore a long black overcoat to shield her from the elements; it was so long it drug along the ground by her bare feet as she moved.
Savva cringed internally—immediately recognizing the coat, his eyes flicking to the darkness behind her, searching for its owner.
A sudden sharp, white hot pain seared through his abdomen—pulling his attention away from the darkness beyond the door. He glanced down, his eyes widening in shock; staggering for a moment, he sank down, falling to his knees.
Voda smiled, withdrawing his hand from the hilt of the hunting knife that he'd buried in Savva's stomach. "You lose, dhampir. While you bleed out you can watch us enjoy your woman again."
Savva's eyes flicked over to Sofiya as he toppled backwards; she did not scream or cower—she laughed, dropping something that had been concealed in her hand by the coats long, draping sleeves.
A silver stake hit the ground beside her mud spattered feet.
She smiled.
"You really should not have harmed my Savva… you see gentlemen… he is the only one here… who could protect you from my dear Uncle." Her voice was soft, but it held a strange, almost singsong quality.
Two figures stepped up behind her—Isaiah and Eva. In the dim light, it took a moment for the Moroi to notice the pallor of their skin and the thin rim of red around their pupils.
Voda screamed, scrabbling backwards. Szelsky stared, the color draining from his face.
"Grigori… do you remember what you said to me that night? That you would ride me until I was broken?" Sofiya stopped in front of Voda—the Moroi closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Look at me! Or they will make you look! They will slice off your eyelids if I tell them to!"
His blue eyes jerked open, locking with hers—instantly ensnared by her gaze.
"Now… it is my turn to ride you—and I promise it will be very, very painful. I will leave your mind as broken as you left mine!"
The Moroi began to whimper—a piercing, high pitched sound, like a small animal in pain—then he screamed, squeezing his eyes closed—clawing at his face as he collapsed to the ground. Sofiya smiled, her eyes flicking to Szelsky; the Moroi looked as though he was contemplating trying to run past the Strigoi. "You will not move, Rudi… if you do… they will eat you."
"You have to help them!" It was a frantic whisper near his ear; Ariana crawled over, unsheathing his stake and pressing it into his hand. "It is your duty to kill them!"
Savva tried to laugh at her whispered demands, but choked instead, blood bubbling from his lips.
"The men are already dead, whore… and so are you." Isaiah smiled broadly, flashing pointed incisors—like a giant cat, teasing its prey. "I can smell the taint in you from here. It's sour poison seeps from your pores—so strong that even your horrid perfume cannot mask it. Your blood is not worth drinking."
The Strigoi reached out for her; she cowered backwards. A moment later her body hit the floor, head turned almost backward from the force with which he'd used to snap her neck.
Savva shuddered, averting his eyes to the ceiling; his time was near—he could sense it. Already his body was strangely numb, the coldness of death creeping slowly up his body. Staring up at the sky through a jagged hole in the ceiling, he watched as lightening crackled across the sky—his vision slowly dimming. There was a sharp tugging sensation in his abdomen, but he felt no pain—he was too far gone for it to reach him.
"Hold on my love. Savva… listen to me! Hold on for me!" A rush of warmth poured into him—like liquid fire coursing through every inch of his being. The sensation was strong—stronger than ever before—chasing away the cold grip of death.
He blinked once, then again. Turning his head, his eyes locked with hers as he weakly tried to shove her hands away from the wound in his stomach. "Sofochka… no. You can't—the cost is too high. It will break your mind—"
"The madness is already here, my Savva… I feel it gathering like a great storm, pressing against my skull." She bent her head, brushing her lips against his; when she pulled back, he could see she was right. There was a manic, crazed look already reflecting in her eyes. "Always remember that I love you, Savva. No matter how insane I may be… you will always have my heart."
There was sudden movement in the darkness near the doorway, immediately followed by a terrified shriek; a moment later, Rudolf Szelsky was forcefully shoved down on his knees beside them—held firmly in place by Isaiah's grip on his skull. "Drink, niece. Drink while you heal him… now… before it's too late."
Sofiya's gray eyes flicked over to the Moroi, lingering for a moment before returning to lock with Savva's. He could see the turmoil rolling within them—and the all-important question that lingered in their depths.
In that moment, he knew the answer to the question that the Strigoi had given him back in Sofiya's room. Having the woman he loved whole and well, safe from danger was more important than anything else in the world. It superseded all sense of right or wrong—his love for her made anything else impossible to even consider.
Where there is life… there is hope.
Reaching up, he gently brushed his fingers along her cheek—slowly nodding his head. "You are more important than any of the things they taught me, Sofochka. Do it—please. For me."
His blessing was what she'd been waiting for; quick as a cobra she latched on to Szelsky's neck. Savva watched the muscles in her throat working as she drank, his heart shattering as he slowly felt the warm touch of her magic start to cool, then fade away.
"I love you Sofiya… remember that." In a whisper, he gave her words back to her. " No matter what you become, you will always have my heart."
Within minutes, Szelsky'd body was lifeless, slipping out of Isaiah's grasp to crumple like a broken doll on the floor. Sofiya gasped, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as her body began to tremble. For a hundred heartbeats, Savva watched as she changed; tears filled his dark eyes as the color blanched out of her already pale skin—stealing away the faint rosy blush that he'd always loved from her cheeks.
"It is gone… I can truly think for the first time ever! It's all so clear… there's no hazy static… no confusion!" The sweet, soft lilt in her voice had vanished, replaced by a flat infliction that mirrored Isaiah's. Her eyes opened; she gazed down at him—and Savva forgot how to breathe.
For the first time since he'd met her, there was no love or fondness in her eyes; her gaze was as cold and emptyas her voice.
She studied him intently, the red in her eyes as bright as the blood that stained her full lips. "It is wonderful, my Savva…. more than I ever dreamed of."
"Sofochka…" he whispered, reaching up to rest his palm against her cheek; he tried not to flinch at the ice cold feeling of her skin. His control broke; the tears of loss in his eyes broke free, spilling down his cheeks.
"No time for that—there is still much we must do." Isaiah's hand closed around Sofiya's arm as he attempted to pull her to her feet; she hissed like an angry cat, immediately jerking it free.
"He will join us—right now! I must have him by my side!"
"No—I think not. I will have my hands full with two fledglings as it is—" Isaiah narrowed his eyes; his irritation at her demands was written all over his face. "—and besides… I do not think your Guardian would bow to my command."
"I will not leave him—he is mine." She glared up at the older Strigoi defiantly, still refusing to rise. "He will listen to you if I tell him to—won't you my Savva?"
There was a muffled scream from Voda; Isaiah's eyes drifted away from them as he heaved an irritated sigh. "There—do you see what I mean? I told Eva not to touch him. No—perhaps later we will come back for him… but for now he will remain here."
"You do not control me! You—"
The Strigoi's hand lashed out, slapping her face so hard she fell sideways; in a flash, Savva was on his feet, his hand clenched tightly around his stake. He moved between them, standing in front of Sofiya with a deadly look on his face. "Touch her again and you die."
"How chivalrous! Even now you protect her, when she's become the very thing you've sworn your life to destroying," Isaiah's dark eyes dropped down to the stake, his lips curving upward in a humorless, derisive smile. "Tell me Guardian… do you think you can keep her hidden away here? Once they restore the wards she would be trapped—they would stake her the first time the thirst drove her to satiate her needs."
"I will take her far from this place—to the mountains. No one will know who or what she is—"
"Again I must point out the obvious…. How would she feed? Would you let her hunt the peasants that wander in the hills with their sheep? You alone cannot sustain her, boy—you would be dead within a fortnight, leaving our poor, sweet Sofiya all alone without anyone to look after her." The strigoi laughed coldly, watching as the reality of their predicament hit Savva, extinguishing the last shreds of hope that lingered in the dhampir's eyes. "She needs me to teach her how to survive, Luzhkov. She needs you to stay here and cover what happened tonight."
"I won't leave him! You'll have to kill me first!" Sofiya's voice was almost a feral growl as she pressed her slim body against Savva's back.
"You will do as you're told—or I will kill him. I told you what I did to the vile creatures that desecrated your body—is that what you want to see, dove? His strong young body broken and lifeless on the floor at your feet?" Isaiah glared at her, his lips still curled in a cruel smile. "Or would you rather have him alive and the knowledge that in the future you can reclaim him?"
The old one moved so quickly that Savva had no time to react; the stake was knocked out of his hand—spinning off into the shadowy darkness outside the lanterns glow. A cold, icy hand closed around his throat, jerking him away from his beloved; it tightened just enough to pull an involuntary sound of pain from deep inside his chest.
Sofiya's snarl of rage died off as Isaiah hoisted the dhampir off of the ground. "Stop! I'll do it. I'll go with you." Her eyes flicked over to Eva—the woman had immediately moved to stand beside Isaiah in a show of support. "I know I cannot fight you both and win. Please Uncle… just let him go. I… I will obey you." She immediately grimaced—as if the words tasted horribly foul upon her tongue.
"Very good—do you see how easy it is to fall into your proper place, niece?" The Strigoi set Savva down, loosening his grip, but he didn't release him entirely. "Listen well, Guardian… you need to cement these facts deeply in your mind. When they ask you what has happened… you tell them about the letter. You thought it was a harmless hoax—pulled by mischievous students. You went to attend to your personal needs, leaving Eva to watch over Sofiya—when you returned, they were gone… another message left, written on the back of the first."
The Strigoi held out his hand, snapping his fingers; narrowing her eyes in irritation at the gesture, Eva produced the note from her pocket, handing it to her sire. Isaiah released his hold, pressing the paper into Savva's hand. Coughing, the dhampir's eyes dropped down to examine the addition.
If you want to see Sofiya again, you'll show up at the meeting.
Come alone—or you'll regret it.
"It will never work. Their bodies—"
"We will take care of that. As far as anyone will be able to prove, Voda and Szelsky made off with Sofiya and Eva… after attacking you in an attempt at payback for their missing friends. Now…it's time to say your goodbyes. If my niece is a good, obedient girl and behaves herself… you will see her again in a few years time."
The words froze Savva in place; his dark eyes flicked towards Sofiya, unable to process the thought of not seeing her for such a long length of time. Her gray eyes were full of barely concealed rage as she closed the distance between them. "A moment of privacy? Please Uncle?"
Isaiah arched a brow at her subservient tone, making an appreciative noise. "Of course. Eva—help me gather the refuse."
Sofiya jerked him roughly away from the others, turning to press her cold lips against his cheek; her lips traveled up, brushing the rim of his ear—her whispered words so soft he almost could not hear them. "I cannot let him take me away from you. We must be together, my Savva. Together… we can kill them both—I will keep her occupied while you destroy him. Yes?"
She did not wait for an answer; her lips claimed his in a hungry, possessive kiss—so intense that he forgot about the coldness of her lips and skin. In an uncharacteristic forceful way, she shoved him back against the wall. His arms slid around her, pulling her close—flush up against his body. There was no way that being with her was evil or wrong—no matter what she had become, she was still his Sofiya.
She pulled back, her lips curved up in a cold, dangerous smile; her eyes dropped way from his, staring intently at the ground. He followed her gaze, his muscles instantly tensing; the stake she'd dropped when she'd entered the barn was right there, within arm's reach. She'd maneuvered him into the perfect position to carry out her plan. His eyes locked with hers; he nodded once before recapturing her lips in a deep, desperate kiss—praying it wouldn't be the last one they shared.
They belonged together—only death would separate them.
With a growl he pulled away from her, diving for the stake; his hand closed around it as soon as his body hit the ground. He rolled, quickly scrambling to his feet—immediately crouching down in a low fighting stance. Whether the Strigoi sensed or saw the movement, Savva did not know—but Isaiah immediately turned towards him with a snarl of fury on his face.
"I have been Sofiya's guardian since I was eight years old—you will not separate us. Only God himself has the power to keep me from her side. You will leave now—without her—or you will die. The choice is yours."
Isaiah strode towards him—but his steps immediately faltered; he was distracted as Sofiya let out a yowl of fury, launching herself at Eva and tackling her to the ground. Grabbing on to the momentary advantage her action provided him with, Savva rushed forward, whipping his leg up and around in a powerful roundhouse kick—one that would easily snap a dhampir or Moroi's neck. Isaiah moved—a blur of speed—latching on to his leg as it approached, using the forward momentum to hurl him across the room. As the Guardian slammed into the wall, the decaying wood cracked beneath him from the force of the impact—but still, he did not give up.
Shaking his head, he stood, wincing in pain as he took a deep breath; a rib was broken—maybe more—he could only hope they had not punctured his lung. Ignoring the way the world was spinning around him, he took a step forward; his knees buckled, but he fought against gravity, refusing to sink to the ground.
"You are brave… I'll give you that much. Most men would have stayed down." Isaiah's voice was a hiss beside his ear; he spun around—but the Strigoi was faster, his fist a blur of motion. Savva threw his arm up, partially blocking the blow; there was a crunching sound— his arm went numb. "Give up Luzhkov. You cannot win—not against me."
"You will not take her from me—she is my life!" He switched the stake over to his left hand—it was the weaker of the two, but it would do. This was the very reason he'd practiced so hard to be ambidextrous—his aim was good, no matter which hand he used.
"You are a fool, boy. Had you listened… you would have had it all. Your Sofiya and immortality— I would have come back for you as soon as she learned to control her temper and her hunger." Isaiah bared his fangs in a cruel, deadly smile. "But now? When a child has been naughty it must be punished—in the most painful way possible."
"The only way you will touch her is if you kill me first," Savva spat, dodging forward and swiping at him before ducking back out of range.
"No… if I kill you or torture you, she will never listen—that is how it is for us when someone harms what is ours. She will spend every moment planning her revenge against me." The Strigoi cocked his head, his eyes flicking over to Sofiya and Eva; Savva burned with the need to look—to make sure she was alright—but he could not afford the distraction.
Sofiya let out a scream of pain. He moved without thinking—almost as fast as a Strigoi. Jerking his head around as he raised his arm, he hurled the stake across the room—throwing it end over end, as if it were a knife. Eva shrieked in agony as the blessed silver pierced her thigh—just as Isaiah's hands closed around the dhampir's temples, forcing him to his knees.
"Sofiya—you will stop misbehaving or I will rip your dhampir's head from his shoulders."
Sofiya's head jerked up, her face twisting into a look of fury. "Release him!"
"You first, dove. I will be very angry if you destroy my new toy before I've had the pleasure of enjoying her. Be a good girl… don't force my hand." Isaiah chuckled as she scooted away from Eva, creeping closer towards the spot where he stood. "That's far enough. Now for your punishment—"
"If you kill him I will destroy you!"
"I'm quite aware that you'll try, dove. I really have no patience for such a tedious war between us… so he will live… but I guarantee he'll wish I had killed him instead." The monster leaned down, his breath fetid as he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Did you know, dhampir… that blood is not the only thing a Strigoi thirsts for? There is something else we crave… and only the most powerful, strong willed Strigoi can resist its call. Would you like to know what it is?"
Savva remained silent.
"The press of hot flesh to warm us, Luzhkov. The sin of lust eats away at us, demanding we sate its call. For the rest of your life, know that she will be slaking that need with hundreds of other men—but never again with you. The moment we leave this place is the last time you will see her. You will live out your wretched mortal lifespan without ever setting eyes on her again—I will make sure of it. That is the punishment for trying to rise against me."
The rage he'd felt towards the Moroi scum paled in comparison to the fury that filled him in that moment, but as intense as his wrath was at the thought of his Sofiya sharing another's bed, a stronger emption overrode it—utter desolation. The thought of never being in her presence again shattered him completely; without her in his life… he would rather be dead. As his eyes met hers across the few feet that separated him, a sound of pure anguish escaped him. Too late did he understand Yeva's warning—without hope of being with her, his life was nothing but an empty, bottomless void of despair.
"And as for you niece… how long do you think he will remain faithful once you vanish from his life? A month, maybe two…though… he is very strong willed, so I'll be generous and give it a year—but no more than that. He is a man… his loneliness and need will make him take another. A new, pretty charge or perhaps a buxom dhampir girl will eventually catch his eye and stir the fire inside him. He'll lose himself in the warmth of her kisses, chasing back his grief and the painful memories with her body… and in time, eventually, he will take another woman as wife—bearing his children. You will be completely forgotten and replaced."
"I will kill any woman that touches him!" Sofiya snarled, enraged by his taunting comments. "You cannot keep me from returning to claim him—he is my mate! I will come back for him—"
"The moment you stray from my side… I will hunt him down, gut him like a fish and present you with his head as a keepsake. That… is a promise."
"Do not listen to him, Sofochka—you know me. I will never touch another." Savva's voice was strong and steady—it did not falter, even when the Strigoi increased the pressure on his head. His eyes, still locked on hers, burned with the strength of his conviction. Isaiah's hands fell away from his temples, but he gave no notice—he was too intent on erasing the Strigoi's lies from her mind. "You will have my heart even after death claims me. I will find you, I swear it—"
Something struck his temple—spots danced before his eyes. Sofiya cried out—a sound that was equal parts rage and anguish—then something slammed into his head again in the exact same spot.
The last thing he heard as the world turned gray was Sofiya screaming out his name; the last sight he saw was her beautiful face contorted into a mask of fury—then everything went black as unconsciousness claimed him, dragging him under, into its dark embrace.
A/N: First a huge thank you to 'An Ardent Fan' for all the lovely comments you have made about this story and about Savva and Sofiya. Your kind words mean so much to me (they actually made me teary) because Savva and Sofiya are really special to me. They are the first original characters I created for the VA world, and though I originally intended for this story to focus on Sonya Karp, Savva and Sofiya sprang up in my mind with their story fully formed—so it took center stage. As other stories formed in my mind, Savva and Sofiya demanded that I let them evolve, carrying their story into the future by weaving it into the new fics. I'm incredibly grateful that they did, because the truth is, I love them so damned much I didn't want to let go of them or say goodbye.
I started this story on September 22, 2012; a month later, I wrote out 45 pages of notes long hand for the chapter you just read. Those notes were mostly just things that were going to happen, but like Savva and Sofiya, one scene appeared fully formed in my mind and I wrote it out immediately—everything from the point Savva enters the barn to the moment Isaiah knocks him out. As I entered everything into my pc last night, I had a realization; the reason it has always taken me so long to update this fic is because I was subconsciously putting off revisiting what I'd written. As corny as it sounds, this one was really emotional for me, because Savva and Sofiya are my babies, and it actually hurt me to tell this part of their tale. I wanted to 'spare them' for as long as I could…because this is the chapter that breaks Savva. In the next chapter… you'll see what I mean. The aftermath of him losing Sofiya… well… it ain't pretty.
I'm estimating there will be anywhere from six to ten more chapters on this fic, depending on how long they turn out to be and how much Savva has to say about his time at Saint Vladimir's. I disclosed in 'The Mask I Wear' that eventually he ends up there—he worked there right up until the night of the Strigoi attack—at which point he disappeared. By the time we get to the final chapter of this fic… you'll know out exactly what happened—and where he went . ;o)
Savva and Sofiya's story will continue in future chapters of 'Letting Go' and "The Mask I Wear'—and I promise you, no matter what Savva believes when he tells Sonya 'Not all stories have a happy ending—no matter how beautifully they began…' he will get his happy ending. I think he and Sofiya deserve it, don't you?
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had to have a shot of vodka (Russian, of course) as soon as I finished typing it.
;o)