~ Chapter Twenty Five ~
In spite of Adrian's little drunk blow-out thing he pulled yesterday, I tell Lissa I can't come and hang out with everyone. I can't face Adrian even if I wanted to. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, he is right. I left him and Lissa and everyone else behind. I am the fault, and the blame, and there is nothing I can do about that.
It is my day to get a full report on the Contas'. Jack has also assigned me with the wonderful job (sarcasm intended) of perimeter-check in the cold wintry snow. Though some of the ice has melted, it is still near frozen. I cannot even imagine what December will bring, because if this is cold, then December is going to be the freaking North Pole. Literally.
I intend to wear several pairs of pants, socks, and sweaters, just so I do not become an icicle, which is nearly impossible with what the weather already is.
I knock on the front door and Henry answers, to which I tell him to get dressed, he's coming on the perimeter-check with me. If one of us has to become a frozen popsicle, well, he'll just have to endure it with me. He happily accepts, much to my delight, grinning as he stumbles up the stairs with a just-woke-up look in his eyes.
I knock on the door that Henry assures me, is Vivian's home office. When I hear her stern voice say "Come in!", I slip through the door and shut it softly behind me. I stand taller, my back straighter, and I stride up to her with my chin up high. I will make her regret ever accusing me of not doing my job correctly.
I can be a guardian. Hell, I am a guardian.
"Good morning, Vivian," I say cheerfully, standing with one hand planted firmly on the chair in front of me. "I came to get a status report. On the interior."
"Ah, yes," says Vivian. She turns her office-chair with wheels and unlocks one of the bottom drawers of her 20th century desk. Then she picks up a yellow envelope and hands it to me with manicured hands.
"Thanks," I say, slipping the envelope under my arm.
Vivian nods. "Jack wanted me to tell you that he'd be back to get the full report later." She gives me a sweet, but altogether fake, smile as I turn to leave. Before I can reach the door, Vivian's voice reaches for me.
"Wait, Rose." I turn around to see her get out of her chair and shuffle toward me in three-inch heels. She waits until she is right in front of me to knit her eyebrows together and say, in a calm but warning tone: "I've noticed my nephew has taken an interest in you."
"Oh." Oh, oh, oh. I guess I knew this would become an obstacle if Julius and I ever became - what are we? - a couple. But, in the back of my mind, I wonder the same questions over and over, turning them around so I can figure out the answers without asking for them. How much does she know? Does she know everything? All of it? Did he tell her? Has she seen us together?
Here's a tip on Dating 101. Never date your boss' nephew. Otherwise, you'll end up like me.
"Well." I scratch the back of my head, mildly confused. "I guess so. We've been. . . seeing each other often." One of Vivian's eyebrows perks up. "Not in that way," I lie, "we're just friends."
"Humph." Vivian paces back and forth, making it look professional, calm, and incredibly aggravating. "I don't know what to think of this."
"We just talk sometimes," I say, my voice a little shaky but still sturdy enough that I don't think she notices. "And. . . read books. . . ?"
"Interesting," says Vivian, a manicured hand stroking her chin. "I'll have to see about this." What does that mean? "You may go, Rose."
"Yes, ma'am." I turn to leave, and this time she doesn't stop me to ask me about dating her nephew.
Am I dating him?
"Look!" Henry runs up beside the side of the mansion. "Footsteps! There's an intruder nearby!" He points at the footsteps in the melting snow again.
"Uh, Henry." I bite my lip, trying not to laugh, or scoff, or whatever I want to do. "Those are our footsteps. This is the third time we've been around the house."
"Oh," Henry says, disappointment showing clearly in his voice. He puts away his index finger and his arm falls to his side. I walk up behind him and give him a quick hug.
"Come on," I say in a cheerful tone. "We still have to go around one more time. In case there are any intruders." Or threats. Or Strigoi. Or Vivian out to get me.
"Okay." Henry bounces up, the disappointment of finding his own footsteps gone. He starts to run ahead of me, his head bobbing from one side to the other. He keeps a good look-out. I think I just might like this kid. He's got potential.
"Hi-Yah!" I scream and kick the cushion that Jack holds up. I pull back and throw my head backward, my hair a pool of chocolate down my shoulders.
Jack smiles. "I cannot believe you are still a novice."
I laugh and say, "Don't remind me."
I continue to kick at the red and white padding for a long time before Jack signals for me to stop. I stop; Jack tucks the padding under his arm.
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
I find myself wondering the same thing. My arms feel a little rigid, my legs stiff, but otherwise, I feel great. It is like I have blown off steam over the past two hours. Funny thing, that. Since I have not been able to let off steam since Dimitri first left. It feels good, though, because now I am back in action. It is all familiar, and there is something about working again. I don't know what it is yet.
It's also strange. I never thought Jack to be one of those guys that would voluntarily do training sessions with you.
Neither did Dimitri, my subconscious reminded me.
"Shut up," I muttered and worked at untying my hair from an untidy up-do.
"Excuse me?" Jack asks, eyes narrowed.
I shake my head. "Nothing." I think for a moment, then add, "I feel fine. Thanks."
"Do you want to work again tomorrow?" he asks as he jogs to the supply closet and starts to carelessly throw stuff through the door.
I shake my head again, my chocolate hair falling out of its tail. I furiously shake my hair up so that it looks unkept, but somewhat like I just took a shower. Which I didn't. Sweat and strawberry body wash should not mix. Ever.
"I can't," I say, a little grim. Though I would love to train some more, just of the sake of proving Vivian wrong, I have way too much on my schedule.
That being, A) The Contas', who are my main priority, B) My forever-changing relationship with Julius, and C) My effort to keep up my badass reputation without losing any such respect from anyone other than people who I do not care for.
"That's too bad," Jack asks. There are certain times when I find myself wondering if Jack has any life out of being a highly awesome guardian/friend. He's handsome, in that Asian - or Korean, I am not sure - way. He is not my type, and he is almost older than Dimitri, but I uncertain skepticism with myself on whether he has a girlfriend, significant other, somewhere.
I mean, ever a cat for Christ's sake, would suit as an answer for my questions!
"How about the day after tomorrow?" he asks. I feel as if he is going to take this training very seriously. I like that.
"Um, we'll see." I pick up my coat and put it over my black sweatpants and blue-and-green tank top. "Hey, will you be at the meeting later?"
"Yes. I always am," he replies and picks up his gym bag. "You did a nice job today, Rose." I can't help but smile. "I'll see you around, okay?"
"Yup!" I grin.
As Jack starts to walk away, I suddenly think of something, and I yell, "Jack! Wait!"
He turns around, his jet black hair plastered to his forehead. He pushes it up and then back. "Yeah?"
I am hesitant to ask him, but I smile anyway. "Do you think we can work on staking Strigoi next time?"
Despite my anxious question, Jack laughs lightly. "Baby steps, Rose. I do not know all you are capable of." He pauses. "I don't know your weaknesses and skills yet."
I can't help but say, "You sound like someone I used to know."
"Yeah?" Jack smirks.
I nod. "It doesn't matter. I'll see you?"
"Of course," he says and turns around, walking toward the exit.
He salutes me, in a funny way, then, as he is walking away, he yells over his shoulder, "Until next time, Guardian Hathaway."
I freeze, realizing that is my name now. Or, at least, to some people it is. The Contas' are too comfortable around me to call me Guardian Hathaway, and so is Alberta and my friends. I smile and look down at my feet.
Guardian Hathaway.
My mother has been called this name countless times, and now it is my turn to be called that.
"Guardian Hathaway." I taste the name on my tongue. I never realized how good it sounds.
"Where have you been?" Vivian asks as soon as I walk in. She looks frantic, her blonde hair sticking up in the most awkward of places. I try not to stare, but for once, she looks like a normal house-mom. She is dressed in a white shirt, black pants made for suits, and fluffy pink slippers. Oh, this is too good to be true.
"I'm sorry?" It is more of a question than a true apology, because I had no idea I was on duty today. What was it Vivian said before we came to Court? We will be off-duty most of the time? Except for a few safety and protection protocols and checking up on the children.
"You were supposed to come here and watch the kids!" she says, sinking into a nearby armchair. I stare on, because I cannot help but enjoy the sight of Vivian Conta, who is always so pristine and business-like, wearing pink fuzzy slippers. A moment of weakness, and I am savoring those fuzzy little balls that are shoes.
"Uh. . ." I can't think of something to say. Since when have I become her personal babysitter? I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, I hear a hundred little feet like an avalanche on Mount Everest.
"I will end you!" screams Henry. There is a crash upstairs and Vivian's eyes go wide in despair. I turn to see Henry with five other little boys tumbling down the stairs. I notice how they are wearing sheets for capes, and they are playing with sticks from outside.
"I am lord of everything!" another one screams and I feel as if I just entered The Brady Bunch.
"Be careful!" Vivian shouts. "Don't break your necks, boys!" She exhales deeply when they don't listen.
I give her a questioning look. "Who are they?"
She sighs, stands, and walks up beside me before crossing her arms and answering, "Well, the blonde-haired one? He is Laurence Tarus. He's a little pest. Two of them are Zeklos' and one of them is a Badica."
"That's four," I say. "Who's number five?"
"I've no idea," she breathes, almost a whisper. "They raided the closets, ate all the cupcakes, and Wren and Alexis are hiding up in the game room doing whatever the hell will keep them out of destruction's path."
"Where's Julius?" I can't help but ask.
Her eyebrows push together and she replies, "I think he's eating."
Oh. Right. Julius, a vampire. A Moroi. Who drinks blood.
"Okay." I walk forward just as the boys skirt the bottom of the staircase and raise my hands. "HEY!" I scream in the loudest voice I have. Whatever volume it might be, the boys notice. They skid to a stop and stare at me, almost frightened. I wonder what parents will think when they hear a really short-tempered dhampir yelled at them. Oh, well.
I clap my hands together and say in the most cheerful voice I can force, "Who wants to play guardian?"
Six little hands shoot up in the air. I can't help but smirk. "Okay then. All of you, are to march, one by one, into the theater room, and you are going to pick out a movie. Quietly." I glance back at Vivian, who is somewhat perked up. "Whoever disobeys, I will personally throw a snowball at."
I see a few deflated faces, but some do not look convinced. I see their bodies tense, ready to scream and run around like savages. "It won't be pretty," I growl. "Okay. Line up." They obey. Henry looks somewhere between excited and nervous. He smiles at me nonetheless. "March forth, boys!"
They disappear into the theater room, and in a few quiet seconds of Godly silence, the air disrupts into tiny voices. "Let's watch Thor!" or "I like Loki!" or "No! I like Thor!" and so on. I turn to Vivian and wipe my hands off my jeans. "Uh, yeah. I'm just going to go."
She nods, watching as I maneuver around her and grab my bag. I shut the door behind me and breathes out sturdily. I silently wish her good luck.
I am maybe ten minutes late to the guardian meeting, which is being held in the same place as last time and the time before.
"Nice of you to join us, Guardian Hathaway," says one man. I am guessing he is leading this meeting along with Alberta. The guy from last time, Gin, I think, is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he is working the gates, I have no idea.
"Yeah, you, too," I say and stick to the back wall. Though Alberta was joking, there is a somber mood. My eyes dart around the room as I wonder what is going on. No one will meet my gaze. Everyone is looking down at their feet, their mouths' are drooping down in a frown.
Alberta clears her throat. She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear and nibbles on her bottom lip. I am dying to ask what's going on, but I keep my mouth shut. It only seems right to be quiet.
"We lost of our own today," announces Alberta. I see her hands shake a little, and immediately my conscience is asking a million different questions. Who? Where? When? By who? Oh, God. I gulp and frantically look around the room. Someone, please look at me, I plead silently. No one makes eye contact.
I realize my hands are clenched into fists, but I do not move. Who was it?
Alberta looks as if she cannot continue, so the guy beside her steps up. He has a solemn look on his face, but besides that, he is unreadable. He looks strong, tough, but I wonder if that is just a façade. Everyone looks so shaken up.
He clears his throat just as Alberta did. "A lot of you knew Gin Schwing." Oh, God. I feel like throwing up. I reach for my stomach and my hands settles on my abdomen. "He was a great guardian, an even better man." Alberta's hands are shaking a lot more now. I have never seen her this way. I find myself thinking if her and Gin were close. Closer than I thought.
"He was visiting some relatives who live up in the mountains." The guy shakes his head and looks around the room, barely even glancing at anyone though. "There was a group of Strigoi nearby. And they. . . Well, let's just say Guardian Schwing put a hell of a fight."
He turns and starts to pace the room. That is when Alberta steps up. She smiles sadly and whispers, "Thank you, Tom." The guy, Tom, nods his head. I close my eyes. The Strigoi got someone else. But instead of Moroi's, they got dhampirs. Alberta scans the room, her eyes connecting with mine. Something flashes in her eyes, something I can't name.
"Are there any survivors?" I ask without thinking. I immediately regret it. A pain flashes across Alberta's face, and about half of the guardians turn to me, sadness clearly on their faces. "Please say there are survivors. Someone. Anyone."
Alberta lets out a shaky breath. "One."
"Who?" Why can't I stop asking questions?
"His grand-daughter," Alberta answers. And then it's over. She turns away from me, our eyes broken, her hurt emotions no longer there. She is stern again. A guardian. That is what we are trained to do. To fight and stay calm, even in times of death and desolation and misery.
"There will be a proper burial this tomorrow afternoon." Alberta takes a deep breath, her chest rising, her face strong. "It has been a sad day for all of us. We have lost a wonderful human being, a proud guardian, and an even better father."
"Until then," says Tom, turning back to face us, "we are calling back our forces. The Court must be protected at all costs."
At first I don't understand, I don't compromise what they are saying. And then I do. It blows up in my face, a big flashing red and green and blue sign screaming what they mean. They are calling back guardians, which means that families of Moroi's will be left without protection. I step forward, ready to scream at them, how stupid they are. But then, somewhere in that haze of death and depression that fills the room, I hear the loveliest sound hit my ears.
"Rose, stop."
My face lifts and from across the table, my eyes connect with the man I loved, the man I still love.
I expect him to look different, unrecognizable, but he looks the same as always. . . Like he never left. The same shoulder-length brown hair. The same duster, barely touching the floor. Same tallness, muscular body.
"Hello, Rose."
Dimitri Belikov smiles.