~ Chapter Twenty-Seven ~
"When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as
the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain." Glancing up at Julius, I shut the book and tuck it under my arm, staring pointedly at him.
"See? I told you that was a real quote," he says matter-of-factly, triumphant to the fact that he is actually right, for once.
"I never said it wasn't," I point out, handing him the book and taking that as an advantage to move closer. He doesn't wrap his arm around me and I don't snuggle up to him. We both know our boundaries, and though mine are far bigger and his are limited to that of certain affections, we still seem to be aware of what's going on between us.
Quite aware, I think when he elbows me playfully because I'm staring up at him and I can't help but get caught in a blush and look down. This is not the Rose I know.
"Okay," I say, breaking the silence that is trying to envelope us, "so that's a real quote, what'd you say you'd make me do? I ask with raised eyebrows and a curious expression.
If Julius were a cocky person or an egotistical maniac, perhaps he would have asked for a kiss, which, of course, I would have refused. But, not to my surprise, my Julius looked at me and smirked deviously. He reached inside his long jacket and into one of those hidden compartment things, and pulled out a small paperback, the picture on the cover faded and the pages crinkled so much they could be a thousand years old.
I look up at him, expecting a perfectly reasonable explanation.
He rolls his eyes and explains, "I made sure to pack this book with me so you could read it." Before he can do anything, I snatch it from his hands and, when I see the title, I grown.
"The Princess Bride?" I ask in the most disgusted voice ever. "I'm not into romance, you know that."
"You liked Romeo and Juliet."
"That's different," I point out.
"How?" Julius asks and so the bickering continues until I wrinkle my nose and look down at the book.
"Couldn't you have picked something else?" I ask, trying to make myself sound disappointed, but it's not working. So far, literature-wise, Julius has not failed me. Yet.
"Would you rather read this?" He holds up the book that landed me in this little mess." I scowl and he laughs. "It's settled then. You read The Princess Bride, report back to me about how amazing it was, and you shower me with kisses. Simple."
"And absolutely ridiculous," I shove the book into his chest and he stumbles before catching himself.
"Just read it and stop being such a baby." When I don't budge, he gives me a condescending stare. "Now, Rosemarie-"
"Oh, you brat!" I grab the book and shove it into my bag. I don't look at him for the rest of our morning walk, but from what I can see out of peripheral vision, he's got the annoying little side-smirk on his face - though it is handsome, I find myself thinking.
By the time I get back from my morning walk with Julius, I'm tired, but also excited, and I have no time to start on that God-awful book he gave me. I straighten my hair, make sure no wrinkles are visible, and I look in the mirror.
Staring back at me is not just any guardian, but me. I've seen myself in the mirror a million times before, but this is one of the few times I have looked in and seen something totally different to what I've been since birth.
I guess I have Dimitri to thank for that.
The building is extremely low to the ground and not nearly as magnificent as the rest of Court. I guess I expected to see vaulted ceilings and statues of the previous rulers everywhere, but if that's true, I'm up to much disappointment.
When I walk through the front door, a woman informs me that I'm in the wrong place, and directs me to a small facility attached to the side of the building. I do as I'm told and find myself in a very grey, very dark room. Chairs line two of the walls, with a glass divider to show a filing room, and a small fold-in table in the corner holding a coffee pot and some paper cups.
I wonder if it would be very guardian-like to drink coffee at such a serious time, and I end up deciding against it, but the longer I wait for Dimitri, the more anxious I get.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Dimitri told me ten o'clock, on the dot. However, the clock's smallest hand seems to have slipped to ten twenty-two. And still. No Dimitri.
I think about going into the interrogation room alone, without Dimitri. Although I cannot fathom all the questions that have the answers I'm dying to have, maybe I'd be better off going solo. I never needed Dimitri's help in this anyway. He only gained me ascess to this, and he's late. Figures, right?
The questions I'm supposed to ask Gin's granddaughter are ultimately up to me - and Dimitri if he ever decides to show up. Either way, I can either set this meeting up or tear it down with one wrong move. Which, I guess, is a reason I might need Dimitri. As much as I hate to admit it, Dimitri knows more than I do.
I guess in some way I'm hoping he won't show up. Wouldn't that be nice? I could slip out of this meeting unbeknownst to the girl beyond the door farthest from me. I can't help but wonder what she's thinking right now. Empty. Devoid of all emotions. Or full of so many feelings that she can barely hold them in.
In a way, I'm hoping she's empty. It'll make it easier to get the information I need.
If I had known earlier that Dimitri would be running late, I might have had time to run over to that small cafe and get a coffee for the black bags under my eyes. I don't sleep all that well. Not anymore. Not since I left the academy and definetely not since I met the kids. I believe in some sense that I worry too much. For them. For me. For Julius and Lissa and Dimitri and everyone else that I'm out of touch with. I've even thought about taking some Nyquil for the sake of sleep.
"Rose," Dimitri says, sliding in through the door leading out of the back exit of the building. I stand and give him the best smile I can stir up, and when he turns, I try to furiously rub the sleep out of my eyes. Dimitri Belikov never needs to know what has happened and what has changed since he first left the academy. To him, I can still be Rose without having changed in any other way.
"How are you today?" he asks in a monotone voice. He walks over to a bare table in the corner and picks up the file I laid there for him. With his back turned to me and his head dipped down, I am, for once, able to study him without him knowing. Even through the layers of clothes I can see the muscles in his back potruding, and I can just imagine running my hands down the small of his back.
It seems since he last left that he's been working out. Either that, or my mind is so deprived of Dimitri Belikov that I don't remember every waking part of his body.
But what intrigues me the most is the back of his neck. I know, I know. There are sexier parts of him than the back of his neck, but with his head bowed and his brunette hair slipping like a curtain around him, I can see two fresh, black Molnija marks.
He turns back to face me, a brow pierced higher than usual. "I asked you how you were, Rose," he says, and I realize what he had asked me minutes ago, before I had studied him. I shiver, even though the room temperature is above ninety, and give a forced smile.
"Fine. I'm fine," I say, my hands sweaty against the fabric of my black pants. I spare him a glance and a quick smile before sitting back down. "What about you?"
"I'm the same as yesterday," he says, licking his finger and turning the page at ease. He glances up at me and then back down. In that quick second, I feel my body go rigid and poised because of his eyes scanning my face. "Are you nervous?"
"About what?" I stand, and this time I walk over to the door and watch some of the light flood in from the cracks surrounding it. It's almost easier to imagine I am alone, by myself, and I am not haunted by Dimitri's eyes on me. If they are studying me, like I was studying him, I don't catch his stare when I turn to receive an answer to my question.
He clears his throat and drops the file back down on the table, one of the legs shaking unevenly in the process. "About this." He motions around the room. For a moment, for a flickering moment, I think he is talking about us. Alone. In a dim-lit room with a distance so inescapable it can't be described. . . Then it all comes crashing down when I realize he means the meeting with Gin's granddaughter.
I shake my head and reply weakly, "No." It's a lie. A complete and utter lie and I'm telling it to one of the few people I trust. But, when I think about it too hard, maybe I don't trust him as much as I used to. I have become accustomed to new people and new rules in this world that I no longer let my guard down as easily. Sometimes I wish I had never left at all. But then what? I would have been some sorrowful teenager who's dream-guy abandoned her.
"Good," he says. "Rose?" he asks after a lingering second.
"Yeah?"
"Don't be too hard on her."
"I won't," I murmur quietly, biting my fist to keep from saying more. God, I want to say more. I want to ask Dimitri so much. But I keep my mouth shut, because he's no longer a constant in my life.
"Not her." I turn away from the filtered light coming through the door and watch Dimitri swiftly, gracefully move across the room toward me. "I'm talking about Tasha."
My mind does a mental flip and I feel as if I might do one myself. Is he serious? "Are you serious?" I ask, my mouth agape and my arms and hands limp at my sides.
"Rose-"
"This has nothing to do with Tasha!" I shout a little too loudly. I hope - God, I hope - that no one beyond either of these doors can hear me. I grip my hands into fists so hard my knuckles turn white and I'm almost afraid the skin will split. I stare at Dimitri with my lips woven in a tight seam. "How dare you even bring that up."
Dimitri's eyes fall and I can't help but suppress a groan. "I don't give a damn about that anymore, Dimitri!" I yell, stepping forward, closer to him, and throwing my fists in the air. "I moved on! For God's sake, Dimitri, I moved on! Nothing, none of this, is about Tasha anymore! None of this is about you anymore."
My voice is quiet on those last few words.
Dimitri looks up at me and our eyes connect. It's only then that I realize how close we actually are. And as much as I try to ignore that exact same feeling I have everytime I around Dimitri, it's there. It's faint, and it's not more than a spark, but it's there. I raise my eyes to the ceiling and take a deep breath.
"Let's just get this over with," I say and slip away from his closeness, heading toward the door. I hear soft but sturdy footsteps follow me. And right before, I'm able to open the door, with my hand on the doorknob, Dimitri's hand settles on mine, stopping me from further moving.
I look up at him and his head tilts back slightly, as if studying me. My eyes flutter upward then down and back again. Crazy. . . Stupid.
"You said you moved on," he says barely above a whisper, his thumb stroking the palm of my hand. "Does he treat you well?" His eyes flicker up to meet mine.
I take a tentative breath. "Yes."
"Hello," Dimitri says upon entry. "My name is Guardian Belikov. This is Guardian Hathaway. You don't have to worry. We'll take good care of you."
"Hi." I wave my hand fleetingly and smile.
Looking upon the file, I discovered that her full name was Ashley Elizabeth. Ashley will attend, upon parents agreement, St. Vladimir's Academy in exactly one school year. She has long, dark brown hair, much like mine, and blue-green eyes. She has made good progress as a dhampir and lives on the East side of the Court.
I was warned earlier, that most guardians admitted defeat after trying for several hours to get Ashley to talk. Which, you can't exactly blame the girl. Her family was ravenously murdered by Strigoi right in front of her eyes. Even therapy has not helped a single word fall through her cherry-colored lips.
"Ashley, do you remember anything that happened that day?" Dimitri asks, his eyes intently focused on the subject at hand. A scowl approaches my face. This would have been much easier if Dimitri had not intruded in my personal business.
Ashley doesn't reply. But, with a little waiting and silence, she blinks twice and stares at the wall behind Dimitri and me. I close my eyes and stifle a sigh. I thought this would be easier. Now, I feel as if I'm trying to achieve the impossible. It's hard to break through to something that's already broken.
Dimitri rubbed the back of his neck and tried again. "Ashley, do you recall any strange activity right before the attack happened?"
I trust Dimitri. I really do. Not as much as I used to, when things were normal and I hadn't uprooted my entire life to go and run away with the Contas', but I would still trust him to save me from falling off a cliff, and I even trust him enough that, if the moment came, he would rather sacrifice himself than let me die. But, as for this moment, I was needing for Dimitri to trust me and let me do the talking.
We continued like this for a while longer, almost an hour and a half before Dimitri sighs and turns to me in his seat. "I'm going to get something to drink, do you want anything, Rose?"
"Decaf. Thanks." Dimitri stands from his seat and shortly after leaves the room. I'm alone, stuck with Ashley, the one thing I have wanted since we had gotten here. I scoot closer to the young girl and lean forward.
"I know how you feel," I start. "I really do. You want to cry. And scream. You're so angry at the world for doing this to you. You're upset because these. . . these monsters, they took your family and left you to suffer. I totally get that.
"That's why I'm trying to help you. That's why Guardian Belikov and I are doing this. I know it sucks to be forced into a room and be interrogated like a criminal." I look around the blank white room with its dangling light fixtures and a small table in the with nothing but a small brochure for therapy-treatment laying on it. I sigh and brush back a strand of hair.
"We're just trying to help you, Ashley. We want to catch these Strigoi as much you do," I say. "You have to help us help you. You want to avenge your family? Fine. Go ahead. Do that. But the only way you will be able to do that is if you talk."
Two blinks.
"You know how hard it was for me to get here?" I ask her dully. "If that guy-" I point to where Dimitri had exited minutes ago "-wouldn't have helped me, you'd still be in therapy with nothing better to do than cry yourself to sleep at night." I lean back in my chair.
"I lost someone, too. And I'm reminded of that person every single Goddamn day. It's not easy. I understand that. Your life never goes back to normal, but it does get better. But right now, you aren't doing your family any favors by sitting there, not talking, and sulking like the five year-old you might've been when those Strigoi killed your family."
I'm out of breath by the time I finish. I glance up at Ashley and I'm reminded of myself. Of me when Mason was lying on the ground, his head at an odd angle and his neck twisted. The pain was so horrible and unbearable for such a long time. But I moved on. I survived.
"I'm guessing that's a no," I say and stand. Another deep breath and I look at Ashley. "Thank you for your time, Ashley. Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow." I turn to leave through the same door Dimitri did, but I stop when I hear a cracked, broken voice echo in the room.
"You're coming back tomorrow?" I turn and see Ashley staring blankly at me. Her lips show no sign of movement, chapped and closed in a tight line. But she's staring at me, so that has to mean something. I couldn't have imagined that, right?
I take my chances of sanity and say, "Yes." Maybe the white room gave me some sort of delusional sense, dazed or whatever. When Ashley says nothing, I continue. "I'll come back everyday until I get some sort of information. We're here for, I'm here for you, remember?"
For five long seconds, Ashley stares at me and I stare back. It's almost a war of the staring game, until she blinks and her eyes return to their dull staring of the wall. I watch her for another ten seconds before leaving the room, the door sliding shut behind me.
"Hey," I hear Dimitri's voice say. I turn and see him walking toward me from a hallway off to the side. I sigh gratefully when I see the steaming cup of coffee that I desperately need.
"Thank you," I say and take a big sip, sighing of relief when the warm coffee hits my tongue. "I so needed that."
"What's going on?" he asks, nodding his head toward the entrance of the room where Ashley is probably being escorted out. I suck on my bottom lip and turn back to Dimitri.
"I think we're done for the day."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah," I say. "Not much more is going to happen today, I don't think. Anyway-"
"Guardian Hathaway?" There's a woman in the room now. She is tall, almost to the point of being noted as lanky, but straight as a pole. Her eyes flicker to Dimitri for one heartbeat before her eyes settle on me. "There's a phone call waiting for you in the front office."
I glance up at Dimitri as if he knows the answer. I look forward, to the tall woman, and nod. Phone call. . . Right.
The woman walks ahead of us as we walk across the side of the building and into the biggest one. The phone is laying on the desk and I reach for it on instinct. Before putting it to my ear, I glance up at the woman. "Who is it?"
She shrugs and I mutter, "Great. Thanks for the warning."
In the back of my mind, I have a spark of hope it's my mom. I've never known her to be huge on phones or electronics, but whatever, and I'm surprised when I hear a voice that's so familiar and so foreign at the same time. I glance up at Dimitri and he furrows his eyebrows, further increasing the dent between his eyes. I shake my head.
"Who is this?" I clear my throat.
"Rose?"
"Wren?" I'm taken back, and Dimitri moves forward on instinct, probably because of the surprise and questioning in my voice. Maybe even a little panic is washed somewhere in the mix, I don't know. I'm too busy wondering how the hell Wren got a hold of a phone. "Wren, where'd you find a phone?"
"No time," she says, and I can hear the panic rising in her voice.
"Wren. . . ?"
"Rose," she says tightly, as if she's holding onto something but straining. "It's Julius."
I don't have time to reply before I drop the phone and dart out of the room. And somehow, without even looking, I know that Dimitri is right behind me.
Author's Notes:
The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
The Princess Bride by William Goldman