Hell must have frozen over, because the two Hathaway women appeared to be getting along. He watched them for a moment or two, just to be sure no blows were exchanged. When neither woman threw a punch, he tuned to rejoin his friends.
Christian was trying his hardest to calm Lissa—she appeared to be throwing a very undignified fit. Her face was flushed, her eyes narrowed and her voice was raised. Every eye in the cafeteria was zeroed in on the pair, enjoying the free show.
"Do NOT tell me to calm down Christian. She just walked away and left me here. She can tell how upset I am through the bond and she didn't even care! She just—"
"Spent hours killing, Vasilisa." Adrian leaned across the table, trying to keep his voice low. "Contrary to popular belief, Rose has feelings too. Maybe you should consider them once in awhile."
Lissa glared at him, her hands clenching into fists. "Of course you'd take her side. You're in love with her. Too bad she'd rather be with—"
"She just saw men and women she's trained with her entire life cut down and there wasn't anything she could do to help them." He cut her off, fighting the urge to slap her. "How would you feel, Princess, if they had been your friends out there? My God, do you hear yourself? Me, me, me. I, I, I. You really do belong at court with the rest of the narcissistic fools." He stood up, glaring down at her. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to the clinic to see if I can be of assistance. There are injured guardians that need healing."
Her voice followed after him, her tone mocking. "Too bad you can't heal much more than a withered plant, Ivashkov."
Gritting his teeth he bit back a retort as he stormed out the door.
He had no idea how much time had passed. He'd been doing his best to heal the wounded, but unfortunately Lissa was right—his healing skills lacked the power of her own. Using the hem of his shirt he wiped a trickle of sweat that was trailing down his temple. He'd have to take a break soon and visit the feeders. Maybe he could ask Dr. Olendzki if a few feeders could be kept on hand in the hallway. That would save time. There were so many guardians in need of aide—and many of them were injured beyond his limited abilities.
"Adrian? I'm sorry. I was wrong."
He turned to face her, flicking his eyes to her aura. She wasn't really sorry. She thought she was right and everyone else was wrong. Ignoring the truth, he nodded. "Apology accepted, cousin. You here to lend a hand?"
Lissa smiled. "You need a break. I'll take over here. Go have a cigarette or something."
The instant he heard the word a urgent, overpowering need consumed him. "Thanks. I'll be back in a few."
He walked slowly towards the closest exit, leaning slightly against the wall as he proceeded down the sterile looking corridor. Healing took a lot out of him. Thank God he'd been sober at the time of the attack. There were small groups of people scattered outside, all talking quietly. He situated himself far enough away that his smoke wouldn't bother anyone and concentrated on the hushed voices.
As he listened, his stomach clenched. They were going to send out a rescue party. For some reason, the thought made him feel extremely anxious. He drew deeply on his cigarette, trying to still his shaking hands. It was a good thing, for them to strike back at the Strigoi. They might have a chance of rescuing the students and teachers that had been captured. So why did his stomach feel as if it had been filled with battery acid?
A movement near the tree line drew his attention, and he sighed. It was Rose and Belikov, slowly walking side by side, arms brushing as they leaned towards each other. He felt the sharp burn of jealousy course through him, but concentrated on pushing it back. Now wasn't the time for pettiness. He'd just lectured Lissa on being considerate to others, it was time to practice what he's been spouting off. Rose needed comfort, and as usual, Belikov was the only one who seemed to bring her the slightest measure of peace. Sighing, he flicked his still smoldering cigarette to the pavement, carefully extinguishing it underfoot. Rose didn't need him right now, but plenty of other dhampires did.
Rejoining Lissa, they worked out a routine. He would heal the smaller injuries then move on to the next patient. She followed in his wake, finishing up the task. He kept a careful eye on her aura, making sure the blackness didn't overwhelm her. The last thing they needed was for Rose to go on a homicidal rampage when half of the guardians were injured.
When Christian came in, bitching and moaning about being left behind, he attempted to ignore him. Unfortunately, his protests were so loud that every other word broke through Adrian's concentration.
"They let Rose go. She and I are a team. This is bullshit."
Adrian spun, healing instantly forgotten. "What the fuck do you mean they let Rose go? "
"Just what I said. Rose and the other senior novices got to go on the raid. But they refused to let me go because I'm a damned Moroi. Never mind the fact I killed dozens of Strigoi today."
The rest of Ozera's words were lost in the whirlwind of blackness that swept over Adrian, dropping him to his knees. He heard Lissa calling him, then screaming for the doctor, but he was unable to respond. Rose had gone on the mission. That was bad. Something was going to happen to them. Something was—
The visions poured over him like scalding water, bowing his back as he thrashed on the floor. Every horrible image replayed in fast forward through his head. Every scream. Every whimper. He felt them all, flooding him, searing his brain as the dreams he'd forgotten took center stage. Over and over on a loop he heard her agonizing, heartbreaking cries. He relived Belikov's death a hundred times and felt his reawakening. He screamed out, trying to stop events that had not happened, but would in the span of just a few hours. Then there was nothing but silence and darkness as his mind collapsed under the burden of foresight.
He regain consciousness gradually. First he was aware of an irritating, constant beeping. Then the cool rush of oxygen from the tube that was inserted into his nostrils. Struggling to open his eyes, the world slowly swam into focus. What. The. Fuck?
He was staring up at a stained off with ceiling tile. The abstract darkness of a long ago roof leak resembled some kind of flower. A gladiola, or perhaps a tiger lily. Concentrating on it, he waited for his vision to focus before attempting to sit up. As soon as he tried, firm hands pushed him back down.
"Hold up Ivashkov. The doctor will be here in a minute." Christian smirked at him. "I can't believe you passed out man."
"What happened?" It came out a whisper. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, craving a sip of water. Better yet, vodka.
"You started screaming. You scared the hell out of Lissa."
"Could you understand anything I said?"
"Something about someone still being alive, not to leave him." Christian grabbed a glass from the bedside table, holding the straw up to his lips. "What the hell did you take?"
Adrian took a drink of water, wincing as the liquid ran down his aching throat. "Thanks. I didn't take anything. It was spirit induced."
Christian nodded. "I'm going to see what's keeping the doctor—"
"You gave us all quite a scare Lord Ivashkov." Dr. Olendzki entered the room at precisely that moment, trying to sound cheerful. It didn't work—her aura screamed out that she was horribly fatigued. "I need you to rest for a while longer."
"How long was I out?" His voice was hoarse and raspy sounding, and it was actually painful to talk.
"A little over an hour." She produced a small penlight, shining it in his eyes. "You hit your head rather hard. I wish someone had told me you were prone to seizures. I wouldn't have let you—"
"Fuck!" He shoved her hands away, ripping the oxygen tube from his face. "I need a guardian with a radio. Now."
She stared at him. "I'm afraid not. You need to—"
"Look, sweetheart. Don't make me pull fucking rank here. This is a matter of life and death. The rescue party is in danger." Grabbing a handful of wires, he ripped the electrodes from his chest.
Dr. Olendzki hadn't moved. Sighing in frustration he pushed past her, sliding off the table. "Fine. I'll just have to find one on my own."
"Lord Ivashkov, you shouldn't be—"
"Consider me discharged." He buttoned his shirt as he stormed down the corridor, his eyes flicking around the bodies that lined the hall. Not a single radio in sight. For fucks sake.
He could hear the doctor calling out his name, but chose to ignore her. For the first time since he'd had the fucked up dream, he could remember every single detail. He had to warn them, before he forgot it. Slamming through the doors, he ran face first into a solid wall of flesh. Looking at the man, he recognized him. Christian always went out of his way to avoid the man—he'd mentioned something about his sociopathic aunt having dated him for a brief while. What the hell was his name… Duroke? Dupont? No… Durov. Grigori Durov.
"Guardian Durov, are you able to contact the rescue team?"
The muscular man nodded. "In an emergency, yes. Why?"
"I need you to get Alberta Petrov or Dimitri Belikov on the radio." Good god, the man was mentally slow. He began to pull on spirit, knowing he'd need it on hand.
"They're all on the same frequency, Lord Ivashkov. It's not like a cell phone. But I can't just—"
Adrian's hand snaked out, grabbing the other man's chin as their eyes locked. "Get someone in the rescue party on the line, Durov. Now."
"Yes sir." Durov fumbled with the dial on his radio, mumbling in Russian. After a moment he pulled off the small earpiece and mike, handing them to Adrian.
"I need Petrov or Belikov."
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Lord Adrian Ivashkov. I need—"
"We're in the middle of a fucking battle, Ivashkov. Petrov and Belikov are in combat."
"Fine. It is a matter of life or death that you relay this message. Tell Belikov he has to leave the cave with Rose. Right now. If he doesn't, he's going to—"
"Oh my God, you're the drunk. This isn't funny. I'll have you up on charges for this."
Adrian bit back a growl. "Who is this?"
"This is Guardian Celeste Vorobyov. Now get the fuck off this channel. We need it for emergencies."
"Guardian Vorobyov, I swear to you on the Queens life that I am not drunk. If Belikov doesn't get out of there right now, he's going to—"
"I don't have time for games, son. Strigoi are coming."
Static filled the earpiece.
"There's something wrong with it. All I hear is static." Adrian looked to Durov, holding out the small black receiver.
"She must have blocked my radio, Lord Ivashkov. Would you like me to find another one?"
"Yes. Hurry." He sank to the ground, leaning against the cold stone of the building. His skin felt as if there were thousands of ants marching across it. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, reaching for the black room within his head. Almost immediately he was pulled into Belikov's mind. They were running. He saw Rose just ahead, sunlight shining on her beautiful hair. Almost there. Just a few more yards. Adrian funneled spirit through himself, concentrating on the other man's aura, trying to give him an extra boost of energy. Almost as if he felt the power surging through him, Dimitri jerked, his concentration on the dangerous surroundings broken by the sudden, unexpected jolt of spirit. An instant later, two cold hands locked on his shoulders as a Strigoi grabbed Dimitri and pulled him to the ground. Fangs sank into the Russian's neck and Rose's screams began—just like in his vision. The nightmare had finally come true, and he'd been powerless to stop it.