Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)
JPOV
It is said that you can never truly know a person: even being acquainted all your life does not apparently omit you from this particular notion. It is a statement that is widely acknowledged and I had been often reminded of it at many of the societal 'milestones' in my life; yet, like most of the so-called 'life' advice, I had taken very little notice of it. It was not as though I considered it to be nonsense, or better yet bullshit, like so many of the other mantras that were drilled into our impressionable tweenage minds, but rather the fact that I did not believe I would, at that point, know anyone long enough to feel confident to say that I knew them. Indeed, when Harriet and Emyl had come into my life, it was a shock to say the least, but a pleasant one at that. I'd like to say that I knew them well; I definitely knew them well enough to both like and enjoy their company. I could even go as far as to be able to purchase suitable gifts for them for special occasions from my log of their interests which I had developed over the years. Having both Emyl and Harriet in my life had set me up for the negotiating the whole 'friend/acquaintance' thing and allowed me to develop some ability in the art of judging a character, like in the example of Alastair (though perhaps my assessment of that particular situation was a little off) or in the slightly more positive example of Drew and Ruth. Whilst I would not call myself a proficient on the art, I allowed my conscious to consider myself quite good and reasonably able to decipher the underlying character of an individual and act accordingly upon my discovery.
That was, of course, before I met Ibrahim Mazur...
This was to be the man who would forever remain a constant enigma, one which would relentlessly shock me beyond all reason, peaking at certain moments.
And the night at Michael's Motel? Behold: peak number one.
Emyl, who had already appeared to have taken on a form of dislike towards the said Moroi visibly tensed upon hearing the words "I believe that I may be of some assistance in that department"slip from his lips. I, having completely forgotten his presence, was startled a little moment longer than perhaps I should have been before finding suitable acceptance to frown at the man. "You've heard of them?" my words a tentative inquisition.
Ibrahim's eyes, aflame and alive, locked on my own. "Yes," He raised his head, inhaled deeply and began: "La Luz, or as you quite rightly translated, The Light, is what one may refer to as a 'radical' sect and arguably a cult." He said nodding over to Emyl who took very little notice of the gesture. "It is a group of individuals who share the collective belief in the downfall of our current political structure. Whilst many have objected to certain aspects of the regime of the Royal Court, some go even further to call for its complete disestablishment. La Luz is one such group. They first came to, and I hesitate in saying, the light near the end of the reign of Queen Ekaterina Zeklos after the Royal Court failed to help the residents of Aelshore when they requested it. Three days later, the town was wiped off the map in a vicious Strigoi attack, but instead of admitting their mistake, the Royal Court covered it up so as not to taint their reputation. The Strigoi may have physically destroyed the town, but the Court destroyed all evidence of its existence. This left the survivors of the attack alone, isolated and without an identity, leaving them vulnerable and susceptible to the likes of anyone who would offer them what they wanted. This came in the shape of a woman, one whom remains anonymous to this day. She goes by the name Abuela as she gave the lost and wounded survivors a renewed sense of purpose and unity: she gave them a family.
"Yet with this family, she inflicted her ideology and beliefs, encouraging them to rise up against the Court that had betrayed them. Most of their initial protestas, as they called them,were insignificant and unsuccessful; enough to make the Court deem them unworthy of any particular notice. But the group, unburdened by the notice of their adversaries, continued to grow – forming ranks yet still integrating the illusion of 'family' in their titles: padre, madre, tia, tio etc. They slowly, and rather ironically, became much more dominant in the world of the shadows, taking the name La Luz to hark back not only to the Hispanic roots of their leader, but also the era of Enlightenment as they believe we need to be enlightened again."
I couldn't help it, I scoffed. Ibrahim, clearly on what could be defined as a 'roll', jolted out of his trance enough to look up and smile slightly; just so I could see he shared my opinion. One that saw that saw the great hypocrisy of the sect and their infamous Abuela on how they wished to topple one corrupt and autocratic regime with another. The flicker in Ibrahim's gaze stirred something warm within me, in spite of the situation and, not for the first time, I was glad he was here if his shared mindset and surprising expertise on the morning routine of grazing deer were anything to go by.
"So it is this group that is responsible for the attack on Court?" Emyl spoke impartially and steadily, readily taking in the information Ibrahim had imparted whilst simultaneously comforting Harriet with his embrace.
Ibrahim turned to him. "Yes, I believe so."
"Are they known to work with Strigoi?"
"No, this is new..." He said warily, "Though if I was to make an assumption of sorts, I would suggest that they formed an alliance with the Strigoi based on the principal of a common enemy and will, in all likelihood, rid themselves of their new allies once their usefulness has expired."
"And they all follow this Abuela so blindly?" Harriet managed to mumble, for the first time emerging from the security of her guardian's arms.
Both Ibrahim's gaze and tone softened. "Never underestimate the power of belief, Miss Conta. A person's faith can often be their strongest asset"
There followed a slight pause in which Harriet fully untangled herself from Emyl's arms, giving him a smile of thanks as she did. I needed a drink so used the time to make sure the tap in the room was working, filling up a glass of water as Emyl spoke again. "And how is it you know so much about them, Mr Mazur?"
I think it was one of the worst mistakes of my life taking that sip of water just as Ibrahim answered: "Because Abuela and I were business partners..."
I quickly found myself choking; drowning in the small sip of water I had taken to the extent where I genuinely thought it could kill me. I could see Emyl flinch, and Harriet leap out of her seat to my aid. Once I managed to stop choking and regained some of my former dignity, I snapped my now watering eyes back to Ibrahim. Any of that past gladness or indeed amusement had gone and was replaced with a chilling numbness.
"Janine, are you oka-"
"Explain." I snapped, not really feeling the need to develop that much further.
To his credit, he flinched. Taking a step back, recoiling any comment he may have made. A wise choice as I was in no mood for any sort of restraint. "I was in a partnership with Abuela..."
"What kind of partnership?"
"Strictly professional."
I scowled. "That's not what I am asking, and you know it. Stop avoiding the question. What were you partners in?"
"I don't think that this is rele-"
"What kind of partnership?"
He hesitated for a moment before replying, "Arms."
"Arms!?" I ejaculated at the same moment Emyl's head shot up and Harriet's jaw dropped.
"Yes," He said, not able to meet my enraged gaze. "Military arms." He clarified, seeing no point in withholding further information as he could hardly go any further down in our estimation.
"You're telling me..." I began slowly, trying – and failing – to curb my temper, "...you and this cult leader were in a partnership transferring military arms...where? Around the globe?"
He sighed. "Yes." As he spoke, he let his gaze slowly reach mine and appeared taken aback by what he saw. "Janin-"
"Guardian Hathaway." I snapped. "How is it that you failed to mention this minor aspect of your life!? Or did it not seem important enough to you that I should know if I'm talking to a bloody criminal? You are no more than those locked away in Tarasov; no more than a traitor!"
At this, the flare returned to Ibrahim's features as he rose to defend himself. "I am not a traitor. I never was and I'll kindly thank you to cease in jumping to unfounded conclusions."
"Unfounded conclusions!" I scoffed. "I think my 'conclusions' are perfectly founded given that you have just admitted to being partnered with the leader of the group that is not only responsible for the attack on the Royal Court, but is ergo responsible for countless deaths, innumerable injuries and God only knows what else!"
"Guardian Hathaway, perhaps you will allow me to fulfil your earlier request and explain." There was an edge to his tone, one that I had never heard before, that halted my venomous tongue: it was cold and all but deadly, one that paralysed my whole frame and even had the spectators of our argument stunned into silence. The chill that lingered in the room was made all the more cinematic by the silence of the night in which Ibrahim's eastern lilt became its only interruption. "Yes, Abuela and I were once partners: 'were' being the operative word in that sentence. I severed all ties with her and La Luz when I found out some of the work that they involved themselves in."
"And what exactly were you 'involved' in?" I said as evenly as I could, folding my arms against my chest in the hope of squeezing some of my body's built-up tension.
I saw him swallow, clenching and unclenching his jaw before answering in a softer tone. "Not anything I am particularly proud of, but unfortunately that is my lot. I have seen the underside of this world and what goes on in the shadows; things I would not wish upon my worst enemy. Diplomacy does not always work and it is in those moments where the underside of the world thrives. Whilst the organisation I am a part of is certainly not legal and its methods perhaps a little primitive, it is what is commonly deemed the 'lesser of two evils'."
Bullshit.
I could feel the bile rising within me and I turned my head away, unable to quite frankly stand the sight of him in that moment. I had rather expected that this opinion would be the general consensus of the room, but after a few moments silence I heard Emyl's voice as he continued to ask Ibrahim questions regarding his former 'business' partner.
I spun my glare towards Emyl and after a few moments he noticed. His placid expression remained as he politely requested a minute and walked over towards where Harriet and I stood, respectively bemused and enraged.
"What do you think you are doing?" I hissed, effectively cutting him off.
Recoiling, he made to speak again. "Jenny, I know you're upset..."
"Upset!"
"...but¸ try and be reasonable. Trust me, I don't like him any more than you do, but he is the only person with some solid information on what the hell is going on and I for one am not willing to pass that up."
He was, of course, right which made the whole thing even harder to swallow. I found myself at a crossroad and one which I had never been at before. When something in the past had conflicted or threatened my morals, I always walked away from it. Granted, I would get quite angry, but that knowledge that I could walk away helped me curb it a little. Not this time though. There was no escaping the fact that I, a guardian who not only swore an oath of protection, but also one of loyalty to the law, was in allegiance with a criminal. And that was who Ibrahim Mazur was: a criminal. A, and pardon my language here, fucking mob-boss no less! The revelation that I had been, quite happily which made it all the worse, helping a man who could, in all probability, have a person killed at the snap of his fingers on that grounds that they were 'in his way' sat in my conscious like toxic oil in pure water. I could see his face over Emyl's broad shoulder and all I felt was disgust: disgust that I had not pushed him away; that I had allow him to call me his "dear friend."
Renewed was the feeling of anger in that moment. I clenched my hands and just about every other muscle in my body in a pitiful attempt of release. "If I find out he had anything to do with the attack..."
"Oh, don't worry!" Emyl said, "I'll rip him apart." I saw Harriet flinch at the vow.
"No, that's my job." I said, glaring over at the Moroi in question, having none of Harriet's reservations. Compromising with myself, I resolved to remain vaguely civilised under the self-assurance that if we managed to get out of this both alive and with a vague sense of political stability, I'd personally put Ibrahim Mazur behind bars. So satisfied I was with this conclusion that I momentarily spaced out of my present environment and all but jumped as I felt a vibration against my hip.
"Janine?" Harriet asked, concern lacing her features as she saw my startled expression. Ibrahim too bore a similar sentiment, but I was determined not to acknowledge it.
Emyl slowly raised his eyebrow as we momentarily tried to discern what would have caused such a reaction telepathically rather than actually looking at where the vibration originated. All of a sudden, I released what it was. With widened eyes, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pager:
Red 5 to Storm. Over.
I could've cried. At that moment, all thoughts of anger towards Ibrahim left my mind and were replaced with an indescribable joy. Drew! I quickly typed a response as the other occupants of the room looked on confused. Within seconds, I received another message: no words, just a number. A phone number.
"Does anyone have a phone?"
Irritably, Ibrahim did. I begrudgingly accepted it and typed the number in, reminding myself that this was a necessary for our survival, justice could come later. It didn't surprise me that signal was limited in Michael's Motel; I had to sweep through the room looking for a single bar. Upon finding it, I froze – typing in the number and hitting call whereupon I placed the device onto the nearby counter like it was a newborn duckling and switched it to speaker, afraid that if were to accidently move, it might just die. Thankfully, it did not and, on the fifth ring, I heard the most joyous sound:
"If it isn't the Oncoming Storm!"
"Drew!" I exclaimed, somewhat out of character, but I really didn't care. "Is Ruth there with you?"
I could feel his smile. "Hey, Ruthie – got someone asking after you..." There was a pause which I took as encouragement; and as Ruth retorting something witty as the sound that followed was an offended scoff from Drew. "Yeah, the minx is fine."
I bit back my smile. "Where are you guys?"
"That's a good question. Ruth? Where are we? ... Uh-hu... Right... Apparently, we're near Rochester. I think we were aiming for Buffalo, but missed."
I rolled my eyes, somewhat glad that Drew's ability to find the joking side to everything had been retained in spite of the events of the past couple of days. "Is there anyone else, or is it just the two of you?"
"Nah: alongside your two best pals, there's a good bunch of us. Around twenty Moroi and thirteen guardians – bit unlucky, but we'll go with it. We managed to scramble together a mighty few of the SUVs and bolted, but we are treading carefully; stopping for the Moroi, but hoping to get to St. Cats by tomorrow. Croft is here... Oh, and he wants to speak to you. Putting him on." There was a pause on the line before a new voice took over from Drew: "Guardian Hathaway."
"Sir." I responded, my old formality slipping into place, but I could not quite shake the relief and excitement that I had upon hearing the voices of my former co-workers.
"Can you state you're present location?"
"We are still in Pennsylvania, sir. We had no vehicle so travelled through the woodland and are currently at a motel a couple of days walk away from Court."
"How long are you planning on staying there?" The alarm was clear even through his formal tone.
"Not long. The owner has lent us a car and we plan to go to Pittsburgh in the morning."
"Good. How many have you got with you?"
"Three, sir. Two Moroi and a guardian."
"Names?
"Harriet Conta, Ibrahim Mazur and Emyl Burlatsky."
"Mazur?" I could hear the tone change in his voice and my expression hardened as I heard it. "I am on speaker?"
"Yes, sir..." I replied, very, much confused as to his reaction.
"Good. Mazur, are you there?"
I glanced over to Ibrahim, who appeared just as perplexed at this turn of events as I was. Giving me and my tensed posture an apprehensive look, he swallowed and made to speak, "I am here, Croft was it?"
"That is correct. I hope you do not mind, but – given the circumstances – I am about to be frank."
Ibrahim remained unaffected. "I think that would be practical."
It was then that Guardian Croft embarked on a speech that rekindled my previous anger towards Ibrahim, but that anger was now shared across to Guardian institute. "As I am sure you are aware, we are not oblivious to the presence of your involvement in a certain...organisation and all its doings, but perhaps, in this instance, this will work in our advantage. You were once partnered with the political extremist group, La Luz, were you not?"
"We were." He said, his eyes briefly flashing towards my own.
"You are not surprised by my bringing them up."
Ibrahim smiled. "Not at all. I can, with confidence, confirm your theory of their involvement."
"As I feared. It appears the severity of the situation has just increased."
"Indeed, Guardian Croft."
"The guardian world was aware of La Luz's presence?" Emyl spoke up for the first time.
"Burlatsky, I am assuming. Yes, we continued to monitor them after the Court dismissed them; picking up rumours and intercepting what communications we could. It was not 'till recently that we fully released the extent of the organisation and by then, there was little to be done."
"So you just gave up." I could not stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth.
"Not at all, Hathaway. I am sure you, of all people, appreciate the need for thought before jumping into battle."
"Forgive me, sir."
"It is no matter. What is, however, is getting back control of the Court. We cannot allow for this sect to retain the power that they have and, more importantly, we must initiate a rescue of all those under imprisonment. Particularly since one of those could be Tatiana herself."
"Then we must act fast," Emyl said, "We are planning to leave tomorrow, early. We can catch a plane from Pittsburgh and meet you at St. Catherine's."
There was a pause: a moment of silence which lasted long enough to engage both my concern and curiosity. I frowned and made to speak, but was halted by Croft's voice. "No."
"No, sir?" I said, glancing towards Emyl and briefly to Ibrahim; both their expressions reflecting my own.
"No. There is an opportunity here, a slight one, but one all the same. The last telegram we intercepted came through just before the attack. Its origin was Portsmouth."
"They are in New Hampshire?" Emyl said, somewhat surprised.
"Alas not: Portsmouth, United Kingdom."
"Ah."
"Indeed, but this was a shipping address. If we can cut their supply chain, take away their resources, then we can significantly weaken them – perhaps enough to launch an assault."
It was then that the full weight of his implication hit me. "You wish us to England?"
"Yes. Whilst it may not appear it, your present situation may be more fortuitous than you imagine. You are already in the field and I have faith enough in you to maintain a reasonable sense of hope. Heaven forbid that Harrison were in your place… My concern is the Moroi. Mazur, whilst limited by his disposition, I believe will be an invaluable resource, but you said you had another… Perhaps I could send someone to Pittsburgh to collect Miss Cont-"
"No!" I think the whole room may have jumped at Harriet's voice. The girl in question flushed at the attention in the room, "That is to say…I mean…I want to help."
Emyl's face drained of all colour as Harriet stuttered out that last sentence. My own heart caught in my chest, slowing down before painfully speeding up again.
Remarkably, it was the one person who was not in the room that sorted himself out first. "Miss Conta, I-"
Yet he did not get far, for Harriet's new sense of empowerment willed her to interject before he could say anything else. "No. I have no desire to be shipped off to a sanctuary whilst I could be helping. I could not bear it. Please. They have my mother…" The waver in her voice nearly broke my painfully-beating heart. I could see the quarrel in her eyes – the pain of being separated from her family, from her mother (someone whom she had always relied) was overriding her need for her own safety. In the same way that Guardian Croft had, Harriet had just been given an opportunity; an opportunity to help, and potentially save, her mother from the clutches of a radicalised revolution and she was not going to pass that up. Truly, I think in that moment, Harriet had forgotten her limitations; forgotten the danger that this would entail. She was the purest soul I had ever met, which sometimes lead her to the realm of naivety. But if it was right, if it was good, I did not think that the Devil himself could stand against Harriet Conta.
That resolve was there; both Emyl and I could see it and we knew we would not be able to talk her out of it. She looked at us, begging us with her gaze, with a determination that would not succumb to her fear.
"I understand, Miss Conta. Truly, I do. But it would be much better if-"
"If we could book the tickets in advance." I snapped my head round to Ibrahim only to see him looking at Harriet. "Save the four of us a little trouble when we get to Pittsburgh." Harriet's eyes widened and welled up as they did. She mouthed her gratitude and Ibrahim acknowledged with a slight upward twitch of his lips before turning back towards the phone. I remained frozen in my place, catching Emyl's pained and distant expression in the corner of my eyes.
There was a pause before Croft spoke again. "Very well. When do expect to arrive in Pittsburgh?"
"Not before noon." Ibrahim continued, accepting that no-one else would be doing any talking for a while. As he and Croft arranged the travel, I found myself lost in my own thoughts. My head was still whirling from the revelation of Ibrahim's involvement with not only the sect that we deemed responsible for the attack on our home, but also his involvement with the criminal world as a whole. I thought back to every time I had seen him: wandering around in the shadows. I wondered for a moment if Tatiana knew – for it appeared he was very close with the Queen, for what reason, I dared not think – or if it was just a dark secret. A very dark secret.
And then there was Harriet. Sweet, sweet Harriet! I could completely empathise with her want, nay need, to be involved, yet I could not bear the thought of harm coming to her. And I knew I was not the only one. I had long since suspected that Emyl's regard for his charge went beyond mere concern and friendship. Seeing him now, horror-stricken and genuinely looking like he could burst into tears at any moment, only cemented my suspicions. If he could, Emyl would have built an entire fortress around her, just so that no harm could ever even come in a five-mile radius. He would remain glued to her side, not letting her out of his sight for more than a second. I daresay he'd keep his eyes open for all eternity lest he blink and she be gone.
Harriet took that moment and retreated back; falling to the side of one of the three beds of the room, she clasped her hands together and prayed. Her strawberry-blonde locks falling to cover her face. Emyl watched her intently, before striding over and, in three quick steps, sought to comfort her for the second time that evening. I fell back against the sofa just as Ibrahim hung up the phone. He, unsurprisingly, seemed the most emotionally stable out of us all. I suppose, he didn't really know Harriet that well and therefore could not know how catastrophic the loss of her mother would be on her, but I could see the empathy in his eyes which made me wonder.
Shaking my thoughts away, I found myself too weary and too drained to even admonish myself for feeling anything other than anger towards the Moroi. I limply flopped back onto the sofa and winced as I landed on my pager. Removing it without getting up, I tossed it onto the ground, rolled over to face the back and forced myself asleep.
