A/N I hate author notes, so I'll keep this brief. This chapter is definitely not my best work. I just got home from the hospital, having spent the day sitting by my dad's bed—problems with his appendix. I had several messages asking for an update, so I threw this together in about fifteen minutes. I'll probably revise/lengthen it sometime tomorrow, but for now, here you go. Thanks so much for all the lovely messages and reviews, both here and on tumbler. Blessings to all.
He didn't ride with the students to the airfield—he wanted to surprise Lissa at the last minute—opting instead to use one of the Town Cars provided by the resort. He almost missed the flight entirely due to a stocky, abrupt Guardian who refused to let him board the plane. Adrian promptly christened him 'Dick'—the name fit the man perfectly. He obviously had no idea who he was screwing with.
He unfolded the fax presenting it to the dhampire with a flourish. He waited while the man read it over, smirking at the flush of embarrassment that quickly covered the other man's face.
"I'm sorry, Lord Ivashkov. I didn't realize your visit had been approved by Queen Tatiana."
"Fine. Do you mind getting the hell out of my way? I'm aging here."
"Certainly. If you need anything during your stay at St. Vlad's I would be more than happy to assist you. My name is Stan—"
Adrian cut him off, bored with his brown nosing. "Save it, Dick. If I need help, I'll ask Vasilisa or Rose for it. Not some prick with an attitude." He brushed past the man, eager to find his cousin. As ridiculous as it sounded, he felt like he was taking the first steps towards improving himself. Maybe learning more about spirit would enable him to gain more control. Then he could wean himself off the booze. That would make his Aunt an extremely happy woman.
Plopping down beside Lissa, he shot her a cheeky grin, pleased with her shocked expression.
"Going my way, cousin?" He asked with a saucy wink.
The flight seemed almost too short, time passing more quickly than he would have thought possible. Lissa was an excellent traveling companion, keeping up a steady stream of pleasant, light chatter. The disappearance of Rose and the others—in addition to the discovery that they both held the same mysterious elemental power—had forged an extremely close friendship between them in a ridiculously short amount of time. That was something he desperately craved—friends. Sure, he had lots of people he hung out with, but those were simply acquaintances, nothing more. They were people who shared his bad habits and liked the fact he would always pick up the tab. This—someone who cared about his feelings and thoughts—was something entirely different. Lissa's head drooped towards his shoulder a small snore escaping from her slightly gaping mouth and he smiled with contentment. If his little dhampire were here right now, safe and sound, life would be absolutely perfect.
His Rosebud was wilting. The events in Spokane had hit her hard, leaving her a shadow of the girl she'd been before. Adrian kept his distance—he could tell by her aura that she needed time to heal. Several times he asked Lissa what had happened—he knew that Rose and Christian had both confided in her—but she refused to discuss it. Her answer was always the same—that it was Rose's story to tell, not hers.
The Ashford boy hadn't made it. According to campus gossip, he'd run back into the house to help Rose, his heroic act resulting in a broken neck. The funeral was a somber affair, and he kept himself in the background. He hadn't known the boy, having only spent a few hours in his company that night at the resort. He was there for one reason only—to support Rose. The loss of her friend was part of what haunted her; Adrian only wished he could somehow ease her pain. He contemplated visiting her dreams—heading any nightmares off at the pass—but decided against it almost immediately. It would anger her if he interfered, she prided herself on being strong. So he lurked around the school, watching and waiting, hoping that by some small miracle she would bloom again.
It killed him to see her wandering around the grounds in a daze. The elemental spark—the fire and passion—that had made her such an unforgettable person had disappeared. As much as the changes bothered him, something about them drew him in at the same time. The new, mournful Rose was just as enchanting as the old one, in a completely different way. Her almost helpless demeanor made him long to hold her close, whispering soft promises that everything would be okay. A romantic side he never knew existed grabbed hold of him, demanding he do something—anything—to let her know he was there for her. He finally settled on flowers. Dozens of them, in a vast array, to let her know she was in his thoughts. Always.
Belikov appeared to be avoiding her, and it irritated Adrian beyond belief. It was obvious she needed the man now more than ever. If anyone could bring Rose back to life, it would be her 'mentor'. His frustrations grew to the point that he could no longer contain it. He dove into the Russian's dreams, determined to figure out exactly what the problem was. That was how he discovered a portion of the events that tormented his poor little dhampire.
He walked on a floor drenched with blood, hearing footsteps and voices coming closer. Two decapitated bodies were sprawled across the ground, he had to step over them to get closer to the action. Rose sat beside the body of her fallen friend, gently rocking him. A few Guardians approached her and she jumped up, brandishing the sword before her. Spattered with blood, she looked like a Valkyrie, or a warrior princess from some ancient legend. Her eyes were fierce, her aura glowing with rage. She leaned protectively over the body, her lips pulled back in an almost feral snarl.
"Stay back," she growled. "Stay away from him."
The morons kept going, edging closer to her.
"Stay back!" Her scream was full of anger, stopping them in their tracks. All but one.
"Rose," His accented voice was soft, almost crooning. "Drop the sword."
Her hands were shaking—she looked half crazed. "Get away from us."
"Rose." Belikov spoke again, and the battle fury left her eyes as her head turned to look at him.
"It's okay," he said. "Everything's going to be okay. You can let go of the sword."
Her body quivered, still prepared for a fight that was not coming. "I can't. I can't leave him alone. I have to protect him."
"You have," said Dimitri.
The sword fell out her hands, landing with a loud clatter on the blood soaked floor. She collapsed beside it, a lost look on her beautiful face.
Belikov's arms wrapped around her, lifting her gently. He tried to pull her towards the door but she hesitated, her hands grasping at his shirt. He kept an arm around her, pushing her hair back from her face; it was a lover's gesture, he had forgotten where they were. His aura danced around her, as if it too longed to soothe her. She pressed her head against him and he continued stroking her hair, crooning to her in soft, whispered Russian. His gentle tone relaxed her, even if she didn't understand the words he spoke. Adrian did understand them, all too well. Belikov had been careful to pitch his voice so low that no one could hear it.
"It's alright, I'm here. I'll protect you, my precious one. Always."
Guardians were examining the house, their voices loud, carrying through the room.
"She did that? Both of them?"
"That sword hasn't been sharpened in years!"
Rose made a tiny pain filled sound causing Dimitri to squeeze her shoulder.
"Get her out of here, Belikov," Janine Hathaway demanded.
Dimitri pulled her closer. "Come on, Roza. It's time to go." He led her out of the house, holding her carefully, as if he were afraid she would break.
Adrian withdrew from the vision dream more confused than he'd been in the first place. He pulled a Djarum out of the pack, rolling the thin black cigarette around in his fingers, his mind racing over the scene he had witnessed. Placing it between his lips, he sat for a moment, reveling in the sweet taste of cloves against his lips. He felt strange, his mind was cloudy, almost as if he were drunk, but that wasn't the case. The small amount of vodka he'd consumed at the resort had been nowhere near enough to affect him, and he hadn't touched a drop since then. Lighting the cigarette he leaned back, savoring the first burning rush as he inhaled deeply. He sat in silence, watching the smoke drift up towards the ceiling, knowing that it was time to talk to Belikov. But first, perhaps, he'd have a drink or two.