Sage Ivashkov giggled at Valya over a stack of pancakes piled almost as high as her head.
"Have you killed lots of Strigoi?" she asked, the fork she was using to eat comically large in her hand.
Sage was a small child for her age, barely reaching up to Adrian's waist despite being eight years old already. She had a tangle of strawberry blonde hair that fell past the seat of her chair and a set of bright green eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Don't be rude, Sage," Adrian chided. He set a plate of pancakes down in front of Valya. "What do we always say?"
"What's your business is your business," Sage chimed. She turned her attention to the pancakes.
Adrian leaned down and placed a kiss on his daughter's head. "That's right."
"She's cute," Valya said around a mouthful of pancakes.
"And she knows it." Sydney entered the kitchen and gave Sage a glance that made her dissolve into a fit of giggles.
Adrian shifted to the right to kiss his wife mid-pancake flip. She scrunched her nose and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"You should be getting ready for work," she told him. He responded by leaning in for another kiss.
Valya coughed and averted her eyes, still unsure of how to act around people in this world. Despite the uncomfortable feeling that came with the glimpse into the Ivashkovs' private lives; it felt like an oasis of domestic tranquility. She stabbed at the pancakes in front of her just as the doorbell rang.
"That must be Dimitri." Sydney grabbed her keys off the counter and made for the door.
Valya could hear muffled conversation at the door and ducked her head, suddenly feeling dwarfed by the mention of her father. Her stomach twisted into knots as the pair entered the kitchen and Valya turned her head to avert their gaze. Sage Ivashkov stared at Valya with a maple syrup-coated grin.
"Would you like some breakfast?" Sydney asked. She reached for a plate before Dimitri could even answer.
"I already-" he began.
"It's no trouble," Sydney cut him off. She took a few pancakes off the existing stack next to the stove. "Water? Orange juice?"
Dimitri sighed and sunk into the chair between Sage and Valya. "Orange juice, please."
"Hi Mitya!" Sage said cheerily to him. She waved her fork in his direction.
"Good morning Sage," Dimitri said with a soft smile. "How are you?"
"Fantastic!" Sage exclaimed. "Exuberant!"
Sydney chuckled. "She's been learning some more complicated words lately."
"Good," Dimitri said. "We need more bookworms in this world."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "I see you've been picking up on Eddie's slang. Next thing we know, you'll be saying 'wicked.'"
Dimitri shrugged. "We spend too much time together as it is. Queen Vasilisa is sure he'll strangle me the next time I put on Russian music during diplomatic visits."
Valya snorted into her coffee, but immediately clammed up when Dimitri turned his gaze to her. "So, uh, who's Eddie?"
Dimitri's jaw clenched when she spoke. "He is the queen's guardian. I guard her husband, Christian Ozera."
"Oh, yeah, constipated dude," Valya said.
Adrian choked on his breakfast.
"What?" Valya asked. "He looked pretty pained yesterday."
Dimitri stood suddenly. "We should get going." He pushed his pancakes away, mostly untouched, and grabbed Valya by the arm. "It's a long way to Canada."
"Hey!" Valya shouted. Her fork clattered back onto her plate. "I wasn't finished."
"We will eat on the road." He held her bicep in a firm grip. "There is no use in wasting time."
"Thanks for staying with us, Valya," Sydney said warmly. A hint of something else was hidden behind her eyes, but Valya couldn't tell what. It almost looked like sadness. "You're welcome back any time."
"Thank you for having me," Valya said to Sydney and Adrian. She nodded at Sage. "Don't get up to too much trouble now."
Sage merely grinned in response, her mouth filled to the brim with breakfast.
"Now, Valentina," Dimitri said.
She rolled her eyes at him. If he wasn't busy trying to control her so much, she might follow some of his commands willingly. As it stood now, she wasn't too inclined.
They exited the house and walked around to the back, where two cars were parked. One, a sleek silver sportscar, was definitely not the vehicle they were taking.
"Get in the car." Dimitri unlocked the doors with a fob he produced from his pocket.
It was a sleek SUV that seemed a bit too auspicious for a simple road trip, but Valya figured that they must have a whole fleet of vehicles like this, a far cry from the few dusty Jeeps that Corinth kept on their lower level. After visiting Court, Valya felt painfully aware of how little she had grown up with. You don't miss what you never had until it's right in front of you.
She entered the car and put her seatbelt on. Valya felt odd without her bag then remembered that she'd stashed it outside the fence that surrounded Court.
"Can we make a pit-stop first?" Valya asked as Dimitri started up the car.
He paused. "What kind?"
Valya bit the inside of her cheek. "I left my things outside the gate. Guns, food, clothes, ID; all of that."
Dimitri sighed. "Fine. Then we're getting on the road." Then, "You shouldn't leave weapons lying unattended."
"Yeah, great time to lecture me, warden," Valya quipped. She settled into her seat with crossed arms. "I don't need advice from my jailer."
Dimitri swallowed and said nothing, but stopped a few yards from the outside of the Court gate. "Go get your things. Be quick: I don't have all day."
Valya grumbled something about his sourpuss demeanor and exited the car. In a flash, she was back with a weathered gray backpack with three columns painted on the side in white. The emblem of Corinth. She saw Dimitri glance at it, but if he had any questions, he kept them to himself.
"Where to?" Dimitri asked. He kept his eyes on the road.
"Vancouver," Valya said. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I'll tell you where to go from there once we reach Vancouver."
"Alright."
They settled into silence then Valya, tired of the dark cloud that was hovering over the car, began rifling through the glove compartment.
"You got any music in this thing?" She asked. She pushed aside the registration and owner's manual; still no music.
"It's a Court vehicle," Dimitri said. "I doubt you'll find any CDs."
"So we're just going to travel cross-country with the emptiness between your ears as our entertainment?" Valya looked at him in disbelief.
"You can always plug your phone in," Dimitri said. He dug in the center console for the AUX cord.
"I don't have a phone, genius," Valya said. "They're trackable. Give me yours."
Dimitri rolled his eyes and produced an iPhone that was a couple of generations behind the newest model. He chucked it at her. "Go wild."
Valya plugged it into the AUX cord and muttered, "Unwise words, Belikov."
He grunted in response.
She glanced up at him, and watched him drive, such a normal activity for someone she'd thought of only in abnormal situations. She had dreamed of Dimitri conquering mountains, fighting Strigoi, charging into battle with his stake held high. Seeing him driving her home, disgruntled by her rebellious behaviour made him seem like a middle-aged dad.
It struck Valya that that was exactly what Dimitri was now: a middle-aged dad.
She wrinkled her nose. "You only have the best of the eighties on here."
"Golden age of music," Dimitri replied.
Valya made a gagging noise. "God, are we even related?"
"Only by blood."
She grew silent and pressed play on the next song she saw in the list."Every Breath You Take" by The Police came through the speakers.
"Are you always this chatty?" Valya asked. She rubbed her shoulders, suddenly cold.
"I don't usually have a conscious passenger," Dimitri replied.
"You really know how to bring a hush over a crowd." Valya crossed her arms. "What should I call you? Guardian Belikov? Dimitri?"
"Dad?" Dimitri offered. It sounded like a joke.
"No." Valya stared out the window, her voice going flat. "I already have one of those. His name's Josiah."
"Oh?" She could tell Dimitri didn't want to pry, but was also insanely curious.
"Yeah," Valya said. "He and Mom are- were kind of a big deal. Pops is like..." She smiled despite herself. "A superstar. Everyone loves him."
Dimitri snorted.
"Hey, don't make fun!" She wagged her finger at him. "He's all I have left now, I suppose."
"I might not have known you for very long, Valentina," Dimitri said. "But I am still your father."
"No, you're a biological inconvenience." Valya wasn't sure where all of the hostility was coming from. "If you didn't feel some obligation to take care of me, I'd be home free by now."
"If you weren't my daughter, you'd be in a cell right now," Dimitri said sharply. "Be thankful."
Valya crossed her arms over her chest, attempting to bring her anger down to a simmer. She wanted to shout at him, to scream and yell everything she had thought of him over the course of her life, but she couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. The Police continued to play over the stereo.
They sat in silence for hours, the trees passing them by as Pennsylvania turned into Ohio and Ohio into Michigan. Crossing state lines took longer than Valya had imagined, but before she knew it they were at a motel struggling to get a few hours of rest. She'd given Dimitri the silent treatment ever since their argument at the beginning of the trip, but the effort was beginning to drain her.
Then, the following morning, Dimitri turned off the highway, crossing several lanes to make the exit.
"Woah, Nelly!" Valya exclaimed as she grabbed onto the handle above her head. "Drive much?"
"It is nearly noon," Dimitri said. "You should eat."
"You're not my-" Valya stopped herself before she said a sentence that was all too untrue. Father. She sighed. "Where are we going, anyways?"
A smile tugged at the corner of Dimitri's lips as the gleaming SUV turned into none other than a Cracker Barrel. Valya exited the car, her eyes glued to the towering sign.
Her eyebrows knitted together. "Is it spaghetti western-themed?"
Dimitri looked at her in surprise. "You've seen spaghetti westerns?"
"Yeah." Valya shrugged. "We're kind of starved for entertainment, but there's a decent movie collection in the rec room. My favourite is Death Rides a Horse."
She thought of the dusty VHS tape that sat in the lower level of Corinth: a bad movie amongst bad movies. The story spoke to her on a level she couldn't quite understand: a young gunslinger forging his way through a swath of villains to avenge his family, a weathered cowboy fresh out of prison looking to get back at those who put him there. It was the typical mentor-mentee story told time and time again, but the uneasily brokered truce and strong bond they made reminded her of a few in her own life.
"Huh," Dimitri said, locking the car. "Most people say The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly."
"I think that one's a little overrated." Valya looked at the immaculate front porch of the Cracker Barrel, her eyes drinking in all of the foreign details.
Dimitri nodded. "Death Rides a Horse is one of my favourites as well."
Valya grunted noncommittally. "I like when his head gets blown off. Let's eat."
Dimitri sighed, following her through the double doors.
Country music and the smell of pancakes hit Valya like a sucker punch. The entire front room of the restaurant was decked out with old-timey candy, toys, and collectibles. It was like stepping into another world for her, one covered in pastels and comfort foods from a bygone era. They were seated quickly and Dimitri set about teaching Valya how to play the variety of table games that were set out to occupy the patrons.
"So I'm guessing you like westerns?" Valya asked after her fourth time of losing at triangle pegs.
Dimitri chuckled. "They're what I'm known for. When I was teaching at St Vladimir's I always had a western book on hand, mostly in Russian. Your-" His voice caught in his throat. "-your mother found them to be idiotic. She didn't understand how a guardian could be so obsessed with cowboys."
"Did she ever call you 'cowboy?'" Valya grinned. "I feel like that would be a fitting nickname."
He looked off into the distance, his eyes clouding over. "No. She called me 'comrade.'"
"Can I call you 'comrade?'" she asked, absentmindedly stuffing the pegs back into the holes.
"No." Dimitri's tone went dark.
"Then I could call you Dimka or Mitya..." Her voice trailed off as she thought. "Dimoshka?"
He shook his head. "That's not a true nickname for Dimitri."
"It is for every other Russian name," Valya said indignantly. "I did not study the language for years to be upstaged by an old man in a leather duster."
"If you'd studied Russian correctly, you'd know not to call me by my first name, Valya," he said, his face stony.
"Whatever, cowboy." Valya grumbled.
Their food arrived and they said in silence, making sure each other knew how much time and effort they were putting into ignoring one another. Eventually, Valya relented and began eating her fried chicken.
"What does the mark on your bag mean?" Dimitri asked conversationally. Valya could tell he was trying to dig for information as casually as possible.
She shrugged. "It was there when I bought it."
"That's a military-issue backpack, Valentina," he said. "It's not one you can buy in a store."
"Maybe you should tell me what it means, since you seem to know everything about me now," she retorted. A bright, hot flash of anger expanded in her chest and she did her best to quiet it down. She wasn't used to having to swallow her words as often as she did in the past 48 hours around Dimitri. She picked at her food. "Mom bought me the backpack."
Dimitri raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Really." She flicked her hand out to the side.
"Then why do you have a tattoo of it as well?" He poised the question like a trump card.
She froze, her eyes turning steely. "I have a lot of tattoos. You'll have to be more specific."
"The one on your ribs." Dimitri lifted his arms and gestured to where he meant.
Valya recoiled, her fork clattering to the ground. "Oh my god, did you watch me get undressed?"
He set his mouth in a hard line. "You are not nearly as well-trained as you think you are."
"Thanks for reminding me," she grumbled. "I don't get enough of that at home. 'This is the great Stasla's kid? What a runt.'" She mimicked Pollock's voice sarcastically.
Dimitri grew quiet. "She went by a Russian name?"
"Yeah..." Valya's voice trailed off. She observed him for a moment. "Anastasia. She said there were too many memories in a name. It meant.."
"Ressurection," they said in unison.
Dimitri and Valya locked gazes and for a glimmering second, they saw eye to eye, united by whatever was left in the world of Rose's memory. To them both, she was simply a ghost now, floating freely between worlds. Valya wished that she knew some sort of spell to bring her back, but magic wasn't exactly plentiful these days.
She coughed and averted her eyes, finally picking her fork up off the ground.
"Valya," Dimitri said with a soft urgency that surprised her. He put his hand on hers. "We will find who killed her. I promise you that."
Valya nodded stiffly. "Come on, cowboy. Let's hit the road."
It wasn't until several days full of bickering, fast food, and restless nights in cheap motels had passed that they reached Vancouver. When they got within half an hour of the city, Valya began directing him off the highway and onto smaller backroads.
She struggled to remember how to get to Corinth by car, but a few missions in Vancouver and Seattle helped to jog her memory. They stopped at a gas station devoid of other patrons for a second while she attempted to read the map he had stuffed in the glove compartment of the Court-issued car.
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Dimitri asked, looking over her shoulder at the map.
"No, I'm fine," Valya snapped. "I've just never approached it from this way before. Give me a second."
He backed off, choosing instead to lounge up against the hood of the car and stare off into the distance. After a few moments, he pulled a battered novel out of his coat pocket and began to read. The sounds of nature echoed all around them and even though Valya could hear cars in the distance, she still felt uneasy about being stuck in the wilderness. The sun was beginning to set across the tops of the trees.
Suddenly, she heard a crash from inside the gas station and whipped her head around. The map fluttered in the breeze. While the rest stop they were at was small, the store connected to it was even smaller. Valya doubted that more than five people could fit in there including the cashier. The lights flickered, but she couldn't see anyone inside. Then, the store went dark completely.
Dimitri grabbed Valya's elbow and she jumped. "Valentina, we need to leave."
"No." She shook her head, clamouring for her bag in the back seat of the car. From there, she pulled out a gleaming silver stake and a gun. "Something is going on."
"And it would be in our best interest to continue driving," he said with more force.
Valya wrenched her arm out of his grip. "No way. When there's Strigoi in the area, we have to kill them. I don't know what Guardians are taught, but that's how it is where I come from. Innocents aren't allowed to die because we want to feel safer."
"You can't charge in there without a plan," he protested.
She flicked the safety off on the gun and grinned. "Then I'll make one up."
She felt invincible charging into the store, weapons at the ready, and it didn't take too long to dispatch the Strigoi that was snacking on the pale string-bean of a checkout boy. Blood splattered the walls as she staked the vampire with so much force that they both barreled into the rotating kiosk selling maple leaf-embossed key chains and bottle openers.
Minutes later, she emerged from the store, her jacket significantly redder than it was before and a bag of beef jerky in one hand.
"Just in case you get snacky," she said, throwing the bag to Dimitri. He caught it with a look of mild disgust.
"You are definitely your mother's daughter," he said in a low tone. He chucked the beef jerky into the back seat.
Valya picked up the map again, the blood on her fingers staining the edges of the paper. "Now, where were we again?"