I'd had an absolutely shit night's sleep. I was still fuming about things with my mother, but Dimitri's hurt, reproachful look at me when I'd said my goodnights had stuck with me. I'd been flirting with Artyom, and Dimitri knew it.
I was the last down to breakfast, only to discover someone had found my packet of Strawberry Pop-Tarts and shared them around. I came in just in time to see the last bite disappear into Blake's gob.
"Tell me that was not the last Pop-Tart?" I growled genuinely disappointed; I'd been looking forward to having one.
"Shit," Eddie muttered guiltily, eyeing the empty box.
"Don't be childish, Rosemarie," my mother said. "There's strawberry jam – make yourself some toast instead. It's almost the same."
I muttered something highly colorful under my breath, ditching breakfast entirely and taking off out the back door for a run. By my fifth circuit of the property, I was feeling mildly happier. In fact, I was humming to myself quietly when I pulled up short. There a hundred yards in front of me was a young human woman about my age.
We stared, both of us a little shocked to see the other. She looked guilty like she wasn't meant to be out there. I was conscious of my mother's instructions to avoid contact with the Alchemists at all costs.
"Sorry. Excuse me," I said, dropping my eyes to the ground, turning around and running back the way I'd come.
I should report my little encounter to Mom, but I was still feeling sensitive after what happened yesterday, so in the end, I decided to leave it. Instead, I headed straight to the back of the building where Dimitri conducted his fighting intensives.
"Nice of you to join us, Novice Hathaway," Dimitri said in a frosty voice. "For future reference, training starts at 8 am."
I looked at my watch – it was 8.02.
"Yeah, sorry," I said dispiritedly. As if having my breakfast stolen was not bad enough, now I had a shitty Russian to deal with. And the worst thing is, I knew I'd brought it on myself. Had the situations been reversed – if Dimitri had flirted with another woman right in front of me – I'd be apoplectic.
Elizaveta glanced between Dimitri and me curiously. While we'd done our best to conceal the true nature of our relationship, everyone knew I was a lot more friendly to Dimitri than I was Stan or my mother. Seeing Dimitri so formal with me was uncommon enough to be noticeable.
Dimitri started us with stretches, then slow motion maneuvers. Finally, he led us across to the improvised sparring ring he'd laid out, quickly outlining the rules we each must have heard a thousand times over our years of training.
I eyed Elizaveta up carefully. She might think she was it and a bit, but there was no way I was going to let her better me without one hell of a fight. I was the one with four molnija and a zvezda, and I intended to show her exactly how I'd earned them. Carefully schooling my face into a calm, placid mask, I waited for Dimitri's word to begin.
She went straight on the offensive, as somehow I knew she would. Grossly overconfident, she overextended on a kick. I grabbed her leg, shoved her back, landing on her pelvis and fake staking her in under twenty seconds.
"Dead," I declared dispassionately.
"Not dead," she argued, claiming the angle of my thrust was wrong. As one, we turned to Dimitri.
A hard look crossed his eyes, and I knew he was still pissed with me. "Hard to tell. Try it again."
This time Elizaveta was more cautious, waiting for me to make the first move. I made a couple of trial moves to see how she'd react, before delivering a quick left, right punch combo immediately followed up by a nasty knee thrust into her hip. It was enough to unbalance her, so I followed it up by pushing her face-first into the soft grass, sitting across her hips and delivering a simulated stake thrust beneath her ribs from behind.
"Dead," I declared, giving Dimitri a hard, challenging stare.
"Dead," he agreed, his eyes softening slightly. "Again."
Having been bested twice, Elizaveta prepared to give this one her all. Her jaw was so tight; she could have been biting bullets. But if she thought I was going to give an inch, she was wrong. This time our fight lasted almost ten minutes before I managed to immobilize her arms and stake her. She let out an angry cry of rage. Three for three, now, since I was counting the first fight as a win.
"Ok, let's try one more time. Elizaveta, I want you to try and anticipate Rose's moves more. Think about her fighting style so far and see if you can pick up any patterns," my Russian God instructed.
Hmmph. I didn't like Dimitri giving Elizaveta pointers, although strangely it had never bothered me when he'd given Meredith similar instructions when sparring against me.
This time I wanted to test her endurance, so I played with her for a while. I knew Dimitri could see what I was doing – I'd intentionally missed a couple of easy openings, instead letting her wear herself out doing maneuvers I blocked. I was just about to step up the fight and put an end to it when I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. My mother had come to sit on the back stairs to watch us.
One moment of distraction was all it took, Elizaveta getting me down and declaring me "Dead," in seconds.
"Great work there, Elizaveta," my mother said encouragingly. "You saw a chance and took it. Rosemarie, you need to work on your concentration - you missed a few very obvious openings."
It figures Mom wouldn't be there for the three times I took Vitsin down, just the one time I didn't.
"Are we done here?" I asked in a tight voice trying to hold back angry tears.
"Yeah. We're done," Dimitri said gently, reading my emotions like an open book. "Why don't you go upstairs and get changed? You're doing surveillance at the cabin with Alto and Castile today."
I nodded, wordlessly brushing past Mom where she sat on the back stairs, racing upstairs to get changed into hiking gear. Much as I hated Stan, right now a few hours away from Mom, Elizaveta and here sounded wonderful!
"It's like she goes out of her way to find ways to make me feel shit," I moaned to Eddie. We were hiking back to the car after trekking our way to the ranger's cottage and circling it several times. An unimposing timber and stone structure in the middle of a clearing, the place appeared deserted. Stan had pointed out the curtains were still wide open, and there was no vehicles present. The best indications that Strigoi were not in residence.
"You don't help things," Eddie replied, trying to be the voice of reason. "Instead of storming off, you could ask her about things when she's forthcoming," he suggested gently.
I narrowed my eyes at him dangerously.
"Or not," he mumbled, knowing when to try and keep the peace.
"I just hate how everyone else knows at least something of their family. I don't even know where I was born."
"That would be on your birth certificate," Eddie said, his voice low to avoid Stan's eager ears.
"Yeah, I suppose so," I mused thoughtfully. "I've never seen it."
"You can apply for an excerpt of it from Court," Eddie suggested. "My Mom got a copy of mine sent to me when I was eighteen in case I needed it."
"Was your father listed on there?" I asked curiously. I knew Eddie's father had left his mother to marry a Moroi when he was two, but he'd grown up knowing who he was. In fact, he even had some younger Royal half-siblings at St. Vlad's – not that they acknowledged each other, although there was a good chance the Moroi kids didn't know they had a Dhampir half-brother to acknowledge.
"Yes," Eddie said with a scowl.
"I wonder whether mine would be listed?"
"Your mother has never given you any hint who he was?" Eddie queried.
"Only that he's Moroi and Turkish."
"Not a lot to go on," Eddie admitted.
"No. It isn't," I sighed, canting my head to say we should catch up with Stan before he grumbled at us for lagging again.
I was quiet in the car on the way back to the property. While I hated to admit it, maybe Eddie was right. I should take the opportunity with Mom to try and find out more about my family history. I mean – being a Guardian was a risky business. I could lose her at any time, and any chance of finding out about my heritage would pass with her.
"You're back," a warm Russian baritone acknowledged quietly as the three of us let ourselves into the house via the back door an hour or so later. It was almost dinnertime, and my stomach was grumbling. I'd skipped breakfast, so the only sustenance I'd had all day was a couple of sandwiches Stan had packed for our long hike. Elizaveta and Blake were in the kitchen helping make dinner.
"What's on the menu tonight?" I asked in an attempt at playfulness that just ended up sounding flat.
"Curried sausages," my Russian God replied. I'd never had them before, but it smelled good, so I wasn't about to complain. "Ayett, Vitsin, keep an eye on the dinner, can you? Rose? Can I speak with you for a moment?" he asked sternly.
I shrugged, following him into the disused ladies' sitting room downstairs. He closed the door, checking the curtains were drawn before pulling me to him.
"What's going on, Ангел? You haven't been yourself."
"I don't know," I mumbled against his chest, rubbing my cheek against the soft cotton of his TShirt as his fingers toyed with my hair.
I sighed before I continued. "I hate how she tells everyone things about my family but not me. She never says a word to me that isn't an order or criticism. I don't know why she wanted me here if it's only to make me feel like shit."
"Do you really think she's intentionally trying to upset you?" Dimitri asked, echoing Eddie's earlier comments.
"Probably not," I admitted. "It's more like I'm so unimportant she doesn't care whether what she says or does is hurtful."
"Is that why you were leading that boy on last night?" he asked with a hard edge to his voice. I might be forgiven for being a bitch to my mother, but there was more than one reason Dimitri was pissed with me.
I was going to deny it but was silenced by one lifted eyebrow.
"I was annoyed you were on her side," I muttered in embarrassment.
"Ангел I am always on your side, even when you're wrong," he soothed. "I know you wish you and your mother were closer. I don't like to see you blowing the time you have offending and slighting each other. Is that the only reason you were flirting with Artyom?"
"No," I whispered shamefaced. "I hate having to hide how I feel. I was upset I couldn't have a cuddle with you, and it was nice to be the object of someone's attention…"
"So you decided to punish me for being in a situation where I can't show the world I love you by flirting with another guy in front of me?" he asked incredulously, sounding even angrier.
"I didn't say it made sense," I defended, blushing and burying my face into his chest.
"So you still love me?" he growled, his arms nonetheless tightening around my waist. "Just me?" He was teasing. Kind of.
"Yes. Do you still love me?" I asked hesitantly, bringing my eyes up to look into his.
"Of course I do, Roza," he said brushing his lips against mine. "I always love you. But stop flirting with Vitsin. I don't like it. Only one man in this house gets to think about you in that way, and that's me!"
"What did you say to him on the stairs? In Russian? He was as red as a beetroot!"
"It doesn't have an exact translation," Dimitri said, flushing a little, himself. "But it was similar to suggesting perhaps he was the type to look through windows into women's bedrooms while they're getting changed."
"Dimitri!" I whispered in shock. No wonder the poor guy looked so embarrassed! My Russian God shrugged but had the good grace to look at least a little repentant.
We stood silently holding one another, drawing strength from one another's touch.
"That first fight today with Elizaveta was a kill," I grumbled petulantly.
"Yes it was," he soothed, giving me a final kiss before opening the door, him returning to the kitchen to finish making dinner, me to wash the sweat of a seven-mile hike off my skin.
"So there's going to be a slight change to tomorrow's roster," my mother announced at the end of dinner. "The Alchemists have detected a small group of Strigoi heading south in this general direction. There's no telling whether they will be coming to the cabin, and we will not be seeking them out. However, there's a possibility we might need to act defensively. This house is so open it's almost indefensible, so should we need to, we will be retreating to the Alchemist's building and defending that. Tomorrow I will be touring a small part of the main house with a view to formalizing a defense strategy, and Rosemarie will accompany me."
There was silence at the table before Stan retorted angrily, "Guardian protocol states the two most senior Guardians should go in situations like this."
"Thank you, Guardian Alto," my mother replied frostily, "I'm quite aware of our protocols – I'm on the working party that reviews them. The Alchemists are extremely wary of our kind - I thought taking a male in with me might intimidate them."
"Then why not take Elizaveta or Meredith?" he challenged. Nice to see Stan's love and trust of me was still going strong!
"Rosemarie is my daughter. The Alchemist role is passed down within families - I thought it might help them relate to us."
It sounded like a specious argument, but if it got me inside an Alchemist stronghold, I wasn't going to argue.
Quickly outlining the required changes to her beloved roster, Mom sent the others through to the library while we did the dishes together.
"I can't explain just how apprehensive the Alchemists are likely to be. I need you to be very professional tomorrow, Rosemarie," she warned. "No speaking unless spoken to, no sarcastic comments."
"I've got it," I said, trying not to sound irritated. I didn't want to pick a fight with Mom now, especially when she was including me in something so unprecedented.
"I thought you could perhaps wear that dress you wore the other day? And maybe your hair down? I'd like you to look as unthreatening as possible."
"Ok," I quickly agreed. I didn't know what to say, but the silence was getting uncomfortable. "So what can I expect?"
That started Mom in on an overview of what she anticipated, and what she wanted me to look out for, that lasted while we finished washing the dishes.
At 10 am on the dot, Mom and I were standing at the top of the stairs running down to the main building. She was wearing a skirt and sweater, and I was in the dress I'd worn the other day. I suspected Mom was still carrying silver, but I was unarmed. The door swung soundlessly inward and the man from the first day stepped into the doorway beckoning us forward. Mom went first, walking down the stairs slowly. We both stopped just inside the entry, the man standing a good ten feet in front of us.
"Guardian Janine Hathaway and my daughter Novice Rosemarie Hathaway," my mother said in a calm, professional voice. The man merely nodded.
"Thank you for granting us access. This should only take five minutes."
The man nodded again, gesturing for us to venture further inside. As previously directed by Mom, I followed, trying not to appear to be looking around too much. My mother was explaining the precautions she might need to take in case of an attack, and getting the information she needed.
The room we were in was huge. It looked like it took up almost the entire floor. Sheets had been placed over tables and the like so we couldn't see what was done there, but the space was much larger than it appeared on the outside.
"Those windows all have lockable metal shutters," the man said indicating the foot high windows visible from the outside. "That door goes through to the bathroom, that door to the garage, that one to the computer room." I glanced into the last room he'd indicated, seeing a solitary computer terminal in a cinderblock room, illuminated only by a couple of foot high windows near the ceiling.
"There is another stairwell to the surface there," the man said pointing to a final doorway. "In an attack, we will secure ourselves downstairs while you defend this level," the man said with clear disdain at being in our presence, gesturing to a stairwell in the corner.
After a couple more questions our 'tour' was clearly at an end, and Mom walked back across to the stairs.
"Thank you for your time and cooperation," she said formally.
"We will be in touch if we have any information," the man said before closing the solid metal door behind us. I was relieved to be out of there; the man had looked at us like we were circus freaks.
Mom gave me a look that told me to hold my tongue, and the two of us walked wordlessly back to the house we were staying in. Dimitri and Stan set the other Novices tasks while the four of us went through to the study Mom had claimed as her own.
"It would be a dream to defend," she said to the others. "The doors are solid steel, and the windows have lockable shutters. Without a blow torch they'd be hard pressed to get in, and even then reinforcements would be here before they'd manage to get through the metal."
"But what was it like?!" Stan asked curiously.
"Lots of desks but they'd covered them with sheets so I couldn't see what was on them. There was a computer room with a chair, monitor and keyboard and also a bathroom but we didn't get to see that," I said.
Mom continued with her observations, and what he'd told her about the ventilation system.
"Did they say how many there are on site?" Dimitri asked curiously.
"Four," Mom supplied.
"I think it's a husband, wife and two teenaged daughters," I said out of the blue.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Mom asked in surprise.
"There was a photo not covered by the sheet on one of the tables," I explained before going through some of my other observations. Just because Mom had told me not to appear as though I were looking about didn't mean I wasn't doing so covertly.
"The weird thing was, I didn't see any hint of surveillance equipment. Given keeping records is their big thing, there was no indication of video cameras or anything like that."
"They keep records on us, not on themselves, I guess," Mom replied. "But that was a useful observation, Rosemarie." And if I hadn't known better, I might have thought that she was proud.