36. Memories

(Mikhail POV)

After a short flight to Seattle and a longer drive, winding our way steadily through the lush forest terrain, we arrived at the Torma Estate just before 5:00pm. The property was hidden high in the mountains beyond Lake Wenatchee, accessed by a narrow, unmarked path that was virtually invisible from the main road.

The Torma family's private guardian, a burly man in his early fifties, drove us past the main house – a huge double-storey lodge – and after another ten minutes of unsealed track he pulled up at a small chalet that sat on the edge of the forest tree-line.

'It's all ready, just as you requested Mr Karp,' Guardian Samarin announced cryptically as he unloaded our suitcases from the trunk and dropped them at the door.

Thomas nodded in thanks. 'We'll let our guest get settled and freshen up a bit ourselves then we'll be out to meet you all in half-an-hour,' he replied, opening the front door and ushering me inside.

'This way, dear,' Mariya led me through the small but beautifully decorated open-plan living area, lighting a few lamps as she went. When we reached a short hallway recess at the back of the chalet, she stopped a few feet from the narrow staircase that led up into the rafters.

'Our bedroom is this door here, and the bathroom is the next one on the left,' my host explained. 'You'll be sleeping in the loft – it used to be Sonya's room when she was younger, of course. You're welcome to go through her things – I'm sure you'll find some photographs and little trinkets that might be of interest,' she offered kindly before leaving me at the foot of the stairs so she could go and unpack her own suitcase.

I ran my hand along the rough wooden bannister as I climbed the stairs and paused on the top step to savour my first glimpse of the room Sonya had grown up in. The space was warm in every sense of the word; the floor had been carpeted to fend off the freezing mountain winters, and the sloped eaves and exposed wooden walls gave the whole room a comforting, rustic feel. A double bed was pushed up under the small window on the far wall, and the last rays of late afternoon sun filtered through the glass to wash softly over the cobalt-blue hand-made quilt and a mountain of cushions. A low reading chair sat next to the bed, and on the other side was a tall dressing table with an old-fashioned suitcase sitting on the top.

Moving over to place my bag on the end of the bed and kicking off my shoes, I turned the quilt back and sat down on the plain blanket underneath, looking around with curiosity as I rolled my shoulder gingerly to stretch out my stiff muscles. The whole room had Sonya's stamp on it and it felt like any minute I would hear her light footsteps on the stairs. Maybe in another life this would have been our home and we would have spent long evenings here; talking and planning and making love; never tiring of one another, never needing to think of the outside world. Maybe we would have had a child. A girl I think – a dhampir like me, but gentle and beautiful like her mother.

Eventually, I got up to unzip my bag and changed into some fresh clothes before tucking Sonya's scarf under the pillow and moving over to the old suitcase on the dresser. Drawing the tarnished clips across with my thumbs to release the buckles, the lid opened with a pop and a smile spread across my face as I saw the hoard within. A minute later I'd carried the box over to the bed and settled myself down to sift through its contents at my leisure.

Right at the top was a framed photo of Sonya and another girl - probably her friend Karin - in their late teens, pulling a face for the camera. They both looked so carefree and… silly. I'd rarely seen this side of Sonya and it suited her so well. Further down was a pile of school photos and report cards – clearly she had been a high-achiever – and a few old art journals that contained mostly sketches of plants, but a few landscapes and portraits as well.

While every single piece of Sonya's history in that suitcase was a revelation to me, the most exciting find was a journal she'd kept when she was seventeen. I skimmed the pages, planning to read it in detail later, and almost immediately found a reference to magical specialisation – the young Sonya was worried that she hadn't specialised yet, and I found myself wishing I could assure her in some way; tell her what we knew now. The name Damian Lazar came up several times – lucky devil – and I felt almost guilty reading about Sonya's teenage fantasies until I came across an entry that described a very different kind of encounter with Damian. I frowned in horror and disgust as the young woman described the magical torture she had endured. Protective feelings surged up within me as I read of Sonya's confusion about her strange, new powers, and her fear of the terrifying darkness that followed. An angry tear rolled down my cheek as I realised the extent of what Sonya had gone through over the years, and I wished to God I had been there for her then. Why hadn't anybody stopped it? Why was nobody there to protect her?

There was a creak on the stairs and Mariya came into view, apologising for interrupting me.

'Aah. You've found the journal,' she murmured sadly, coming to sit in the chair next to the bed.

'You knew?' I asked in disbelief, barely able to hide the note of accusation in my voice. 'Did you try to help her? Did she have support?'

'I didn't know until a long time after it happened,' she answered, her expression laden with regret. 'I thought something was different about her when she came home at the end of her Junior year, but she bottled it up and wouldn't talk to me about it. It was only later when she was at college that I found the journal and it broke my heart to learn what had happened to her – what she went through every day after that.'

I frowned deeply at her words, trying to understand how Sonya's own mother had failed to realise that something was so wrong. 'Did you talk to her about it then?' I asked, desperate to know why the attack had been ignored – why the darkness had been allowed to grow.

'Even once I'd read the journal I couldn't bring myself to tell her I knew,' Mariya explained. 'It felt like I was intruding on something deeply private – like I'd stumbled onto a secret she didn't want me to know. You wouldn't understand unless you had children of your own, Mikhail, but sometimes it's best to let them open up in their own time instead of forcing their hand. All I could do was make myself available to listen when she needed me, but she never brought it up so I didn't pry.'

I sat there gravely, letting my eyes run over the looped handwriting on the page as I absorbed the information. So many conflicting emotions struggled within me before I finally looked up, meeting Mariya's gaze with a brief, sad smile.

'I guess we can only do the best we can – there are some things in life that are beyond our control.' Alberta had given me nearly the same advice and I'd dismissed it, but maybe it wasn't so unreasonable after all. It was unfair to blame Sonya's mother for not doing enough to help – not when I had tried and failed too.

The old woman reached over to hold my hand and her eyes spoke volumes as she squeezed my fingers, silently thanking me for understanding. Eventually, she gave my hand a final pat and rose from the chair.

'It's just about time for us to go, Mikhail,' she announced gently. 'Rug up warm and meet us downstairs as soon as you're ready.'

With Thomas at the wheel of his tiny old 4WD I felt every pot-hole and bump on the track back to 'The Lodge', but it wasn't long before we took a small trail that ended in a flat, grassy clearing. A group of people were clustered in the dancing light of a bonfire, and as soon as we alighted from the car Mariya took my arm and led me towards the gathering.

'This is Mikhail Tanner, Sonya's partner,' she introduced me affectionately, almost proudly, 'and these are the people who have known and loved my daughter her whole life,' she gestured to the group. The next half an hour or so was spent meeting each of the guests in turn and learning how they were all connected to one another. The old Tormas, Klara and Robert were there, along with their three adult children, Alexei, Erik and Karin. The boys had their wives and young children in tow, and Karin had invited a couple of close friends who'd spent a lot of time at the Torma Estate when she and Sonya were growing up. In addition to the moroi contingent, Guardian Samarin was accompanied by his sister Darya and niece Diana who was a few years younger than Sonya.

Once all the introductions had been made, everybody turned their attention to Klara Torma who seemed to be the matriarch of this close-knit extended family.

'Welcome friends and family, old and new,' her soft voice wafted out across the group. 'We are here to honour the memory of our beloved Sonya. Thomas and Mariya would like to invite each of you to share a story about their daughter – a time you enjoyed together, some special memory we can all hold onto through the darker hours. There are no rules or expectations of your participation tonight – you are free to come and talk as you like or simply listen and remember. Mariya would you care to begin?'

The evening flowed with a timeless quality as each person came forward to share a memory – happy or sad – and I clung to every word, learning about the many hidden facets of the woman I loved, discovering again how truly complex and beautiful she had been. After each speaker was done, they took a single stem from the basket of flowers that had been cut from Thomas' gardens and threw it on the fire in a farewell ritual, letting the sweet, fragile petals become absorbed in the cleansing, crackling flames. Nobody here blamed Sonya for her choice or acknowledged her present condition. To them, she had simply died and now they had let her go.

When everybody else had taken their turn and the younger children had fallen asleep in their parents' laps, I rose slowly and walked towards the bonfire, plucking a pair of roses from the basket and clutching their stems gently as I turned to face my new family.

'I realise that compared to all of you I've known Sonya for the shortest amount of time, but even so, she has changed my life completely. I will never take time for granted again or hesitate to tell the ones dearest to me that I love them. Sonya has taught me to see strength in gentleness and recognise power in quiet places. I will never forget her, and I will never stop loving her.'

I turned back to the fire but couldn't bring myself to throw the flowers into the flames. The reality was, Sonya wasn't dead and I couldn't let her go – not yet.

After the fire had burned down and the last of the guests had left, our drive back to the chalet was a quiet one, and when we arrived home I planned to head straight to bed. I'd just taken off my jacket and laid it on the end of Sonya's bed when there was a shriek from below and I grabbed my stake before rushing back downstairs.

'What is it Mariya?' I called out urgently as I made a quick survey of the premises, checking that the bathroom and front landing were clear before tucking the stake into its holder on my belt and knocking on Mariya and Thomas' door. 'Is everything alright?'

For a few minutes all I could hear was muffled sobbing and hushed whispers but eventually Thomas responded to my knock, coming out into the hall and closing the door behind him.

'We've just had a bit of a shock, that's all,' he apologised quietly, gesturing for me to follow him to the kitchen table and I sat opposite the old man as I waited for him to explain.

'This was on Mariya's pillow,' he said, placing a plain silver band on the table.

I picked the ring up to have a closer look and saw that it was engraved with a fine scrolling-leaf design, and there was an inscription inside the band that read; Always here.

'Who does it belong to,' I asked, even though some part of me already knew.

'It was a gift for Sonya's for 21st birthday. Mariya wanted Sonya to know that even though she had reached adulthood, she could always come back to us if she needed us – that she could confide in us whenever she needed support.'

I looked up from the ring and met Thomas' eyes with growing dismay as the realisation dawned on me. Sonya had been here – in the last few hours. Maybe she was still nearby, hiding somewhere in the tree-line. My Sonya! I thought frantically, overcome by a desperate urge to be with her. No...not my Sonya – Sonya the Strigoi. My fingers flew instinctively to my stake at my hip, closing around the cool metal as the adrenaline rushed through my system.

'I have to find her,' I exclaimed roughly, already glancing around as I planned my next move, but Thomas grabbed my shoulder and forced me to look him in the eye.

'You know what you have to do, don't you Mikhail?' his voice was strained and he appeared to age before my eyes as he formed his next words. 'It would break Mariya's heart if she knew the truth, but I need you to promise me you'll do it. I can't stand the thought of my little girl being out there so wild, lost and alone. Do you know what I'm asking you? Put her out of her misery, Mikhail. Do it for us – do it for her,' Thomas' voice broke and he fell silent as the tears streamed down his wrinkled face.

'I understand,' I placed my hand over his and gripped it firmly, sharing his grief. 'I promise.'

Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the driver's seat of Thomas' 4WD, my silver stake tucked safely into my belt and the spare on the seat beside me. The engine jumped to life as soon as I turned the key and I let it idle as Thomas leant in the window to offer some final words of advice.

'Sonya spent a lot of time in Seattle when she was younger. You should start searching for her there.' He thrust a slip of paper into my hand. 'Here's Karin Torma's number. She has an apartment in the city and knows that place like that back of her hand - if you find you need somewhere to stay or have difficulty locating Sonya, I'm certain she'd be willing to help you.'

I took the number and tucked it into my pocket with a nod of thanks before making a last minute decision. Slipping the diamond and ruby ring from the chain around my neck, I pressed it into Thomas' hand.

'I'd like you to take care of this for me, Mr Karp,' I began. 'I'll come back for it when the job is done, but if anything goes wrong and I don't return, I'd like Mariya to have it. She should remember her daughter was always loved, no matter the outcome.'

'Go with our blessing, son, and come back to us soon,' Thomas shook my hand before I pulled out into the darkness, on my way to kill the woman I loved.

In this chapter Mikhail confronts some demons in Sonya's journal & gets to know Sonya's extended family.

Not a lot of plot driven action here, but an important bit of closure for Mikhail & Sonya's parents as they go through the motions of dealing with their grief before our long-suffering Guardian is sent on his way.

Time to meet Strigoi-Sonya methinks!