"'Just'?" I scoffed, hands molding under a metal chair as Dimitri wrapped my sprained ankle, trying to ignore the growing warmth at our proximity. Night glimmered behind the high windows of the gym, the shadows chased away by the fluorescent lights engulfing us. I watched my 22-year old self from afar, a ghost lingering in dusted corner, unsure why I was reliving this night now.
Why, out of everything, this was my most vivid memory.
Why it was like I was watching my life flash before my eyes.
"You're only saying that because you're not the one that has to deal with it," I continued to accuse.
"Perhaps," Dimitri said lightly, unwavering from his task, "but at least you'll live. Compared to some of your other injuries, this should be nothing."
It took awhile for reality to filter through my drug-addled, sleep-induced dreams. I don't know how much time had passed. In fact, I didn't really know anything at all.
Drugs were a bitch like that.
It was still dark. Pitch-black, even. But instead of drowning in that black, numbing sea, I found the ebony morph into familiar velvet as I came around, the dark settling behind my eyelids. Lulling toward consciousness, I shifted, my head throbbing at the motion. I muffled a groan. It felt like I'd been hit by a truck. My thoughts and memories were blurred, a whirlwind of flickering film escaping my grasps. Christ. Maybe I had been hit by a 16-wheeler. Slowly, hesitantly, I felt my senses expand as well.
Mutely, I could hear the chirps of crickets through steel walls and smell the fresh dripping of gasoline. Cold air chilled my skin and blood as I breathed through my nose, my lips somehow sealed shut. My hands and legs were in a similar position, joined together at my knees and wrists, immobilized. Boy. If that didn't scream ominous. Where was I?
I opened my eyes partially and blinked. My bleary-eyed gaze was tilted, but I could see the makings of a van's trunk come into focus. I frowned behind the sealment. What, did I decide to take a nap in Lissa's Mystery Van? Drowsily, my dark eyes flitted around. There was a spare tire stuffed to the side, metal-shudder compartments grooved along the walls, some empty medical shelves...
And there was a shadow.
For some reason, that was all it took. Everything hit me. The break-in, the Jill scare, the kidnapping- Victor. My own personal nightmare wrapped up in a neat little bow, waiting for me when I woke up. My heartbeat pulsated, echoing my terror.
Yeah. I knew exactly who that shadow belonged to. And I knew I had to get out of here.
Struggling to sit up in my compromised state (and failing), it didn't take long for him to humorously inquire, "Looking for this?" I glanced up, able to crane my neck, eyes landing on him. I stilled. My muscles locked, veins straining against my neck in panic. Victor was sitting elegantly along the wall, at my knees, one hand holding a scalpel and the other waving my gun tauntingly. My growingly frantic eyes darted to it. He chuckled. "Come now, Rose. You really have become too dependent on your weapon, don't you think?"
I took it as a rhetorical question, seeing as my lips being taped shut made it a little tough to hold a conversation. So taking the classy route, I simply opted to glare at him while struggling against my duck tape restrains, knowing my fear was pouring out, outweighing my hatred for him. It was a little hard to act tough when you were tied up with the guy hell-bent on killing you. A girl could try.
Victor sighed as his jade eyes glazed over, exasperated at my weak attempts. "You shouldn't struggle, Rosemarie." As if to soothe me, he came over and slipped the hand holding the scalpel behind my cheek. Yeah. That was real comforting. I shrank away from his touch like a wild, trapped animal, praying he didn't hear my heartbeat pound in double tempo. It was hard to miss my rampant distress though, especially with the cold metal of the blade hovering over my pulse point. That alone made me stop moving. Victor paused another moment before sliding his hand forward again, his fingertips sparking chills along my skin. Then, he ripped the duck tape of my mouth, forcing me to stifle a pain-invoked shout. "It's alright, Rose, you can yell," he told me placidly. "No one will hear you either way."
I chose not to acknowledge that as I glimpsed toward the semi-closed doors, heart drumming in my chest. The dark forest glared with shadows. "Where's your little friend?" I whispered, voice parched.
"Ah, yes, you did meet Keith, didn't you? He's getting ready for our final game outside," Victor explained. A sense of dread welled in my chest at that. Between the two of them, I could only imagine what they were planning. A shallow grave in a bed of sunken leaves seemed plausible. He twirled the scalpel in his hand like a pen, smiling. "We can finally finish what we started all those years ago, Rose..."
His eyes fogged again, rapt in his own creepy elation. Man. I probably would have been better off drugged and knocked out. I attempted to distance myself more as he moved closer- hell, I would have jumped out the back doors with the van going 80 mph if it meant getting away. This time, the blade was poised. "Wait, don't-" I tried to reason desperately as I recoiled, moving my head away. That, however, only served to expose my neck more. It was a clear opening. He drug the blade across like a surgeon, breaking the skin. I squeezed my eyes shut. Blood pooled and oozed over as he began to slice my throat, my body crawling with terror, adrenaline beginning to convulse under the alarm.
I gasped in terror just as the opening of the doors stopped him from cutting deeper, his hand stilling. "It's ready," I heard Keith tell him. "Come take a look." The blade's touch continued to sink in like a poison even as Victor withdrew it. Gasp subsiding into shallow breaths, I dared to open my eyes. My would-be killer smiled wide at me before turning and hopping out with both weapons, handing my pistol to his associate. I glanced at the other dark-haired male. Keith sneered in return, his one good eye glimmering cynically in the moonlight. I knew how I must have looked. Pathetic. Weak. Blood leaked from my wound and stained my bare skin, the fabric of my clothes lapping up the thick liquid. Keith tucked my gun into the front of his jeans and slammed the doors shut, locking it. The two's fading laughter echoed after them as they walked off.
The loud slam rang in the empty silence as I lay there. Adrenaline welled at my fingertips, blood continuing to drip from the incision. Like Mason, my main arteries had been spared. This was just the opening act though. An opening ceremony to the grand finale, the last game.
Oh God. This was bad. Really bad. Managing to sit up fully, I remembered how I promised myself I wouldn't let him toy with me again as I fought the duck tape. I wouldn't let him?
Yeah. It was easy to say that and comfort myself with it while he was locked in maximum security. Barred in his van, in an empty, horror movie forest, with him and his apprentice? That changed things. Big time. I scowled at my own foolishness, wanting to hit something. Preferably a mirror.
However, a reasonable voice (that sounded suspiciously like Dimitri) reminded me I didn't have the time or luxury to be mad at myself. I was already here. And laying in his trap, wasting time to mentally beat myself up, wouldn't help my odds. After a steady minute of wrestling and biting at my duck tape, I realized I'd just have to work with it. It was a bitch, but it was workable. I looked around at the shadow-bathed compartments, lost with no way out.
I wanted to slam my head against the metal wall. I had no idea where to start. It didn't help the drugs were taking a toll on my mind's clarity, too. Crap. What would Dimitri do in this situation? I thought. The answer hit me almost instantly. Duh. He'd taught me this first-hand.
'Use your environment to your advantage'.
Scooting over to the shudders, I used my joined hands to lift one up, revealing an empty, metal box. Okay. That was no help. I lifted the others one by one, winding up with the same results. The last one on the end was locked, annoying me and making me jiggle the shudders for a couple minutes. The pressure of time weighed heavily on my mind and I grew more urgent as it dragged on. I soon gave up opening it. Keith probably had the key stuffed in his jeans alongside the van's lock.
I checked the empty shelves, rummaging along the walls and under the medical table. The spare tire was void, the van's bare walls glinting harshly. There was nothing. It was like a bad deserted island game. They'd given me nothing to work as a leverage; I couldn't even make a signal fire with twigs and flint.
I gritted my teeth, frustrated. "Come on," I muttered, shifting through more desperately, "come on!" I slammed my fists down on the spare tire. Surprisingly though, it didn't hurt. Not in the least. Instead of breaking something on the hard case, my hands hit something soft. I looked up at the clumped, dark mass sitting on the black tire. Velvet? I drug it down, a rolled up cloth clattering to the ground. I glanced toward the doors before struggling to unravel it, the black tool holder tumbling open. I scanned over its contents quickly, hope soaring at my good fortune. It was a standard survival kit. Surviving sounded pretty damn good right then. There was a flashlight, a pair of scissors … and a flare.
The plan formed in my head so quickly I had no time to rethink it. I just acted.
"Oh Ro-ose," Victor's sudden, sing-song voice drifted from the other side, growing closer. Scrambling, I pried out the flare and attempted to roll up the cloth, laying on top of it with the cold cylinder in my hands. Oh, it was about to get warm though. Fast. The back doors popped open and I heard him hoist himself up, the high-pitched frequency of a charged taser beeping in the silence. "Did you miss me?" he asked. I forced the cap off the flare with my teeth. My dark hair acted as a curtain as the orange flame flared to life, scorching my neck and burning my cheek. Smoke poured out around my laying figure, his footsteps stilling. He leaned closer. "What on Earth-"
My adrenaline kicked in again. From that point on, there was no thinking. Just acting and reacting. Fast as lightning, I shot the flare out at him, knocking and searing the right half of his face. Like paper, his skin kindled instantly. Fire chewed at him as he stumbled back out of the van, falling to the ground back-first. He rolled around, gripping his face and howling in pain, the flare glowing in the van. Still compromised my restraints, I wiggled and rolled out, falling into the dust near his writhing figure.
The taser had fallen in front of me. Consumed with primal instinct, I reached for it, struggling to get closer and sparking it to life as well. Victor, contorted and thrashing, never knew what hit him. The taser flashed with electric jolts. I tasered him in his lower leg, amplifying his loud shouts and agonized jerking. I gritted my teeth, using every ounce of juice on him. It took a few steady seconds for it to flicker out, the sparks ending in sync with the new, approaching voice as Victor laid there, blistering. "Dr. Dashkov?" Keith called from the forest.
I wildly darted my eyes over my shoulder as I clicked the taser, willing it to recharge. "Come on, come on," I whispered, panicked. "Charge, charge."
"Dr. Dashkov?" he asked again, appearing along the treeline and in our line of vision. It didn't take long for him to pin his teacher's lying, twitching figure. "Dr. Dashkov!" He raced through the underbrush. Bundling in on myself to hide the sparks, I clicked the taser desperately as he skidded in front of Victor, kneeling to him, checking his pulse. "Dr. Dashkov..."
The taser's wail stirred up again. Moving fast, I shocked Keith in the leg like his mentor, Keith grunting in pain and stumbling a few steps before joining the party on the ground. I really had a thing for hitting below the belt. The gun lodged in his belt, however, clattered out in between us during his stumble. We both looked at it, then to each other.
As one, we raced for the gun. Keith's good eye was wild with determination and anger as he crawled his way, in a military fashion, through the ashen dirt. His paralyzed legs dragged behind him. Crippled by my own impairment, I moved closer, duck tape scrapping up the black soil. Able to use both my arms and legs though gave me the greater edge. That was my only leverage between life and death. His hands were barely an inch away when I grappled around the familiar handle. Our eyes met for a split second again right before I fired.
Two shots went off into the night, bird screeching and flying off. The sharp impacts sent Keith jolting and sprawling on his back, head tilted away from me, arms slumped into the dirt. The two holes in his chest rimmed with blood. I didn't have to check his pulse for confirmation. I knew.
Victor's apprentice was dead.
Still, I surged with adrenaline, shifting into a sitting position and panting hard, aiming the gun between the two men threateningly. Neither moved. Victor's shallow breaths were drowned out by my gasps, chest heaving with my frenzied heartbeat. Leaves were tangled in my snarled hair, dirt caking my cheeks and burns. The dust and deadly silence settled around us. Still, I aimed my gun, braced to shoot my predators a hundred times if that's what it took. "Come on," I whispered, fear churning to my breakage point and shouting, unlocking the safety, "Come on! Come on! Move!"
They were desperate cries, prying and trying to give a reason for me to fire. But neither moved. Neither were a threat any longer.
It took awhile for that common sense to shine through my clouded, torrent thoughts. Slowly, hesitantly, I lowered my gun. I glimpsed at Victor and his dead associate one more time before looking around, struggling to see through my red-tinted vision. It was like a black coil of darkness had exploded, blinding me, blinding my actions and thoughts. That Dimitri voice lingered behind the shadows, trying to get me to see reason. I had to pull it together. I had to think. I hadn't fully escaped yet.
That's when I spotted his scalpel among the pebbles, my blood cleaned off the blade. Setting aside the gun and shoving away that dark, lurking knot, I moved over to it and begun to cut through my duck tape. It wasn't an ideal cutting instrument, but it got the job done. It just took a little longer than most.
Slicing through and freeing my limbs, I wearily stood on my legs, feeling like a newborn learning how to walk. I let out a breath and glanced over my shoulder at Victor. His body still twitched from the jolts but the effects were waning, his bloody hands closing in on the deserted gun. Dust scorched my dry throat as I walked over, stepping on his joined wrists harshly. He tilted his head up toward me. My stomach squelched. The only side of his face that was visible was marred and scorched by the flare, disintegrating his mask of innocence. He was a monster, inside and out. Leaning down, I retrieved the pistol from his weak fingers and stood, positioning my aim. My arms were rigid, eyes hard and unforgiving. That darkness stirred, edging me off the cliff.
I took the jump.
"Rose-" he started. The piercing clip cut him off. The pull of the trigger and the gun's echo left only silence in its wake as it broke the sound barrier of the night. Even the birds fell silent.
The smoke rising from the barrel looked bleak and otherworldly in the moonlight. I didn't flinch. Even when the bullet went off, my gaze remained steadfast. Blood pooled, soaking into the ground, the dry dirt a greedy glutton sucking up the nutrient. I lowered my arms and removed my heel from his wrists, jaw set tight as I stared at the man lying on the ground. The wind stirred, ebbing away the passing storm. "We match," I said quietly in the soundless dust bowl.
His chest rose up and down, breaths labored but beating. In front of his limp body, his joined hands bled a river a blood. A bullet had gone straight through the middle, mirroring the X-shaped wounds on my palms.
The realization I hadn't killed him seem to creep over him as slowly. Gradually, he rolled onto his back and held up his red hands, stained by blood. It was a sign of surrender. A clear opening. He was daring me to shoot, the eerie smile lighting his scarred face taunting me to do it. I met his stare. There was no emotion on my face.
My hands tightened around my gun, but didn't squeeze the trigger again. I knew exactly what game he was playing. He knew how to use me, how to get under my skin, how to stir that dark, primal animal in me. But I wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Not now. Not when I had already won. "Game over, Victor," I whispered. That trademark smile of his grew.
Then, slowly, the still night air of the forest became filled with the laughs of a madman.
Though the sirens were finally dying down along with my adrenaline, the lights weren't, the blue spiraling beacon flashing by the forest steadily. Radio calls were made left and right, static humming in the charged air. I sat alone on the back bumper of an ambulance (not willingly jumping into the van- I'd learned that lesson), staring out across the dark, tree-bathed horizon, contemplating. One of the crew members that had treated me had also thrown a blanket over my shoulders. I saw that as standard procedure for a patient, not a detective.
But in this case, I guess I was playing the victim. Even I had a tough time denying that. Bandages covered the right side of my neck and wrapped around my hands. My hair and clothes were a wreck, blood staining my collar and smearing under my chin. I'd manage to sprain an ankle, too, in my mini adventure, but the medics were more concerned with my second-degree burns and bleeding than a twisted ligament. I didn't really have room to complain. I was just happy to be alive.
I looked up at the sound of footsteps, Dimitri's boots easily crunching through the twigs. This time, he was sporting his old duster again, a faint smile painting my lips. "I like the wardrobe upgrade," I commented, my voice scraped from the smoke and dust inhalation. He could have shown up in sweats for all I cared though; just seeing him was a major plus for me.
Even in the eclipsed light, I saw his eyes sweep over my injuries, mirroring avid concern and guilt. I knew the medics must have informed him of my condition- which, really, wasn't so bad given the situation- but knowing and seeing were alwaystwo different things. It was clear he wasn't prepared to see me so beat up. And he was piling the blame on himself. "Rose-" he started before stopping himself. It was like I could see him inwardly assailing himself. He sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry. This shouldn't of happened if I had just-"
"Enough of that," I said quietly, breaking him from guilt, hating when he put the world on his shoulders. "I'm fine. Still alive, still breathing, still laughing in the face of danger, the untameable, hopeless Rose Hathaway at her best." I scooted over, patting the seat beside me. "Come on. Sit down."
He did. I pulled the blanket around me tighter, still not able to completely shake the cold feeling Victor had left in his wake. Mia and Mason were taking him back to jail- this time in a more confined cell- refusing to hand Dashkov over to the prison ward. They wanted to see him incarcerated themselves. Despite the differences between them, my safety and his damnation were something they could both agree on. It wasn't much, but it was a building block. At least I could rest easy knowing they weren't going to choke each other out tonight.
"Is the FBI going to call you back to New Orleans?" I asked quietly. "You know, since the mystery of the year is solved."
It took him a moment to respond. Out in the fields, crickets chirped. "No," he said, his voice just as soft. "I'm still going to be working with your team. Even with this behind us, there's still the Strigoi problem to deal with."
I chuckled hoarsely despite myself. "Right, we still have much more fun laying ahead. The next mission's the Boston mini mafia, huh? Think we can tackle down the organization by next Saturday?"
He gave me a rare smile. Despite my adrenaline, I felt my chest flutter even more at the sight. It'd been a long time since I'd seen that smile- you know, without the possibility of sex on the table. "Give or take," he said. "We still have some paperwork to clean up, but I think we can deal with the mob in a few day's time."
"Single-handed, right?"
"Naturally."
I couldn't help the return smile my face. It was nice, all things considered. I was laughing off my fear, everything that had been weighing me down the past week. And best of all, I was doing it with Dimitri. For once, our complicated relationship wasn't weighing down on us- we were just people. Humans, alive and well, embracing life while we could still hold onto it. "If we're doing that, you need to let me lead this time, comrade. I'm still not thrilled you took over my last case."
"Yes general," he said lightly. "Well. Either way, no one's really a match for us, now are they?"
"It's a shame, if we were on the opposite side of the system we'd make a killer Bonnie and Clyde duo."
"The Strigoi would look like nothing if it came to that."
The banter between us flowed naturally, as easy as the creek I'd tackled him in before. I shook my head playfully, sighing. "If I made it through this, I guess I really can live through anything, huh?"
He didn't respond for a moment. Instead, he laid a hand over my bandaged one, a sweet heat creeping over me. I felt like winter snow being engulfed by the spring sun. Ironic, since it was creeping close to Halloween. Surprised, I looked up at him- I was usually the one initiating physical contact. This time though, it was all him; the moon shone in his eyes. "I'm glad. I'm so glad you're safe Roza."
My gaze softened before turning outward again, squeezing his hand lightly. I knew that. I knew how much he cared for me, how worried he always was for my safety. No matter what happened between us, past or future, I knew he'd do anything to protect me. I would do the same for him. We'd probably make an awesome duo in a romantic-comedy. Too bad life never seemed that simple. Sighing, I laid my head on his shoulder, staring out across the horizon. As much as I complained about his cologne and aftershave, it was soothing. Like coming home after being battered by a winter storm. There was another pause before he asked me, "Why didn't you kill him?"
That was an excellent question. Staring into the forest, it was easy to see the faces of Emmaline and Gabe, of all the lives and victims he claimed. I'd promised them all justice. Sending their killer to the land of the dead seemed like a pretty fair ruling- but was that really justice? Did I have it in me to make the call of who lived and who died? That was not the kind of power I wanted. Still, Victor plagued me. As long as he was alive, he always would. Perhaps that was just something I had to live with. Perhaps death and I had become too close over the years for me to see clearly anymore.
All of it was complicated. Too complicated for my clouded, world-weary thoughts to comprehend.
"I don't know," I finally replied, "I don't know." He let it drop. No more words about Dashkov were spoken. In fact, no words were spoken at all. We sat like that in silence for a couple minutes, the charged air calming around us. For once, we were just people, sharing the need for human touch and companionship.
I wanted to stay like that forever.
Reality, however, could only give me so much of a break. We straightened and separated as another set of footsteps came around the side of the ambulance. It was Stanton. The dark-skinned CIA agent had a wry smile tugging at her lips, as happy as the rest of us to put this case in the record books. I guessed she grinned about as much as Dimitri. "You did good work out there, detective," she praised, handing me the bottle of water in her hands. "Your medical friends are waiting out by the police tape if you want to see them."
I drank the water gratefully, only pulling back at the mention of multiple people. "What, you mean Lissa and her crew?"
She shrugged haplessly. "Something like that. Oh, Belikov. I still need to brief you on the final input and the media disclosure."
"Of course," he replied immediately. I took all of that as my cue to leave. Gingerly getting off the bumper, Stanton and I exchanged a nod and I started to head out. Dimitri, however, pulled me back one last time.
"Oh, Rose," he intervened. I angled back. Coming to me, he placed something light in my palm, heat transferring and mingling between us while Stanton waited patiently in the background. "We turned this up in the search. I almost forgot to return it to you." He drew his hand back. The nazar he had given me five years ago glimmered up at me, as if winking. I smiled. My eyes flickered up and caught his again. We shared a knowing glance.
The sparks were still there. I think they always would be. Back at the academy, I had thought breaking away from him and letting him be happy without me would be best for both of us. I'd played the bad guy in hopes we'd be able to to move on.
I guess that plan had sunk worse than my sabotaged Dashkov operation.
"Thanks," I said, curling my fingers over it. "I'll be sure to hold onto it." Nodding to Stanton again, I turned and headed out. Sure enough, Lissa's posh car (how she could afford such a new model as an ME was beyond me) was stalled on the outskirts, two figures lingering near the trees.
At first, all I saw was Lissa's jade eyes pouring over with relief. I smiled candidly at that before turning my attention over and catching sight of who her extra company was. "Son of a bitch," I swore in surprise at the guy leaning loftily against Lissa's car. "What brought you out here of all places?"
"I heard the great Rose Hathaway had almost met her match," he said, smile edging toward sardonic, blue eyes dancing. "Naturally, I had to come and see for myself."
I felt myself slowly grin in return. "Wow, I forgot how much I missed your abrasive charm, fire boy- too bad I pulled through." Christian shook his head in amused exasperation at the use of the old nickname, dubbed from our high school days when he set the class ass Ralph on fire during chemistry class. He was just like I remembered. Tall (not Dimitri-tall, but far past the 6-foot mark) with messy black hair and piercing sapphire eyes. Most importantly, he still had his sharp tongue. I was relieved. He was one of the only ones able to keep up with my quick wit; if college hadn't pulled me out of state, we'd probably have a show-down nightly.
Honestly, what surprised me wasn't his sudden reappearance (which, yeah, had left me a little starstruck- but to be fair, I'd learned to deal with crazy reunions lately). What really stumped me was his attire. "Oh man. I suppose fire boy is a bit informal, huh? Doctor Ozera."
I never though I'd see the day. Christian Ozera had a medical license, and was flaunting it Grey's Anatomy style. I was used to seeing Lissa dressed up in white, but Christian? The most formal I'd ever seen him was when his supposed aunt had stuffed him into a stiff suit for prom. I hadn't even been his date yet I'd taken enough photos with him to blackmail him for decades.
Actually, come to think of it... his date had been Lissa. Back then it had made sense, seeing as the two dated for about 3 years, but Lissa's insane great-aunt Tatiana had done a lot to take a toll on their relationship. Add that to Lissa's drive to go to Leigh and the sudden death of Christian's parents? Well. Things hadn't ended on a romantic note between them. I hadn't seen them together past graduation. In fact, I don't think they had seen each other since then.
Which brought up way more questions than answers. Seeing me raise an eyebrow at her, Lissa sighed and explained, "Christian treated Mason earlier at the hospital, and after hearing about your condition, Mason practically dragged me along to his office to get him to come."
"I thought you were on your way to the morgue by the way he was acting. You certainly know how to pick them, Rose."
I rolled my eyes, able to imagine Mase perfectly. Though I was keeping it light, I had to admit it was sweet. Mason always knew where to puncture the mushy part of me. He really was a good guy. I don't know how much I could vouch for my current male company, but I might just have to get my partner that basket of muffins. "I can see how worried you were while ordering my coffin from the undertaker," I replied flippantly. "Did you spring for FedEx or UPS?"
"FedEx actually- cheaper overnight shipping between the two."
"You put your research worth's in. Well, sorry to break your overflowing doctoral bank, but either way, I'm not reimbursing that fine."
He began to try to sell me on the idea when Lissa interrupted, sighing like we were young kids fussing over a dodge ball. I think she was trying to suppress a smile, too. "Are you two done yet? We really should get you to a hospital and stitch your wound, Rose."
I made a face. I seriously hated hospitals. My best friends were doctors, couldn't they work some magic here without dragging me into the Boston ER? Christian straightened, replying primly. "Of course. Just as soon as I'm able to drive us this time."
She scoffed, keys in hand. Sometimes she could be just as stubborn as me. "Over my dead body."
"Hitting a little close to home, aren't you?"
As they began to banter (still acting like fighting lovers in my opinion), I reflected inwardly. Something had been bothering me for awhile- and with the whole Dashkov craziness, I'd been a little preoccupied to think about it. I didn't remember much in my drugged state, but that night with Dimitri had stuck out sharply amidst the gray fog. Why? Why that memory among all the rest?
Honestly, I didn't know. I didn't understand why my subconscious had been so fixated on that memory, continuing to pull me back. Maybe that was just the first time I realized it. Maybe that was the first time I fell in love. I glanced back at the ambulance, the lights reflecting two long shadows obscured from my vision. Love huh? I mused to myself.
"What are you thinking so hard about?" Lissa asked. I hadn't even realized their small argument had subsided. From their unchanged positions, I guessed she'd won. Just like the old days.
It took me a couple moments to reply. "Not much," I answered truthfully. "Just about some loose ends I have to tie up."
She looked surprised. "What, you didn't cover everything in your most recent adventure?"
"Not everything," I said, pulling the blanket closer and slipping in through the open car door, ignoring Christian and Lissa as they shared a look above me. I glimpsed back once more at the blue and red beams streaming across the horizon in the dead of night. The nazar smoldered in my palm. Green eyes and rusted blood colored my vision.
I wasn't out of the game yet.
And now we're off to tie off loose ends~ I really hope this chapter and climax lived up to your expectations, I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Do I at least get points for finally getting Christian in on the action? Hopefully we'll also get a cameo of my favorite VA character next chapter.
Reviews/Favorites/Follows would be absolutely lovely.