It was 6 pm by the time I turned off the P-254 on to the road to Baia. I'd only stopped once; an hour or so after I started driving – to use the toilet and to make an anonymous call to the Guardian headquarters in Moscow to let them know they needed every available Guardian in the Novosibirsk area to head to the manor and destroy the place entirely before sundown. The sun had set an hour and a half ago, so I would be arriving home at night. When I'd escaped the mansion, Baia and home had seemed the obvious place to come; I missed my family dreadfully and hadn't seen them in three years. But now I was driving away from the highway down the road to the sleepy village of my childhood I wondered whether my arrival would frighten them too much? There were young children in the house, after all, and by now they would know I was missing presumed turned.

I came around the last corner and saw the outskirts of Baia ahead of me. My breath a ragged gasp, my hands were shaking on the steering wheel. Home. I was home! I drove down the road slowly, past buildings I'd known all my life and that were as familiar to me as the lines on the back of my hand. Yes, there were some changes – life stands still for no man – but overall it was still the town of my childhood and youth.

My hands were shaking so badly by the time I turned onto my street that I thought I really shouldn't be operating a motor vehicle. Had it been anywhere but sleepy backwoods Baia I probably wouldn't. My nervous energy was all but gone, and I was conscious it had been many hours since I'd eaten, even longer than that since I'd slept. I could almost taste Mama's cooking on my lips as I pulled up near the front of our house.

I switched off the engine and looked at the modest timber home for a moment. It had once been a single story four room cottage, but over the years had been extended and further extended until now it was one of the larger homes in the village. The lights were on inside - mostly in the kitchen and living areas. I could even see the flicker of the television through the net curtains down the side of the house. I made a mental note to discuss that with Mama – the curtain should be drawn for safety's sake as anyone could peer through that window and into the house had they a mind to. Drawing in my breath and letting it slowly out I climbed out of the car. I had no bags with me. Nothing but the knapsack which I left in the car. I walked to the door and knocked.

I could hear someone walking to the door. While Baia was a relatively safe town, and my family's home closer to the center where an attack was less likely, this was still an area inhabited primarily by Dhampir, so people knew to call before just dropping around at night.

"Who is it?" a female voice asked suspiciously. Karolina by the sounds of it.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out, just a strangled little cry. I was so overcome I could barely speak.

"Karo?" I finally stammered out.

"Who is it?" Karolina demanded again. I could hear more footsteps approaching the front door.

"It's Dimka, Karolina. I've escaped. I've come home."

There was a squeal of fear from the other side of the door, and I heard the sound of the bolts being slid into place. That was another thing I'd have to speak to them about – those bolts should always be engaged at nighttime. Had I been Strigoi, I could easily have kicked the door in were they not in place.

I could hear footsteps running away from the door, my mother's voice calling out from the kitchen in alarm, then the heavy footsteps of my Babushka.

"Move out of my way, silly geese," she barked at my sisters. "Your brother is hungry and tired, and you leave him on the doorstep like a traveling salesman," she grumbled. "Set another place for dinner and light the fire in his bedroom. Dimka is tired and needs his family tonight!"

I heard the bolts slide back and the door opened, spilling warm golden light onto the porch where I was waiting. Standing in the doorway was my Babushka. All of five foot nothing, she was the scariest old woman I'd ever come across – and I said that even though I was her favorite grandchild.

"Glad you've made it before the rain," she said, looking past me and out to the sky. "Well? Come inside before you let the warmth out," she grumbled, but it was with a twinkle in her eye. I walked through the low doorway, stooping slightly as I did so. Then I bent over to hug my diminutive grandmother. Right then, I could have been five years old again crying as I showed her the chick fallen from its nest in the tree, not a twenty-five-year-old man trained to fight and kill the undead.

"Dimka!" It was my mother's voice, and she was barreling down the corridor towards us. She didn't stop to wait for me to disengage from my grandmother – she just threw her arms around both of us. She was sobbing and seemed incapable of saying anything other than "my son" over and over again. I gave her a weary smile and hug, feeling older than she and Babushka together at that moment.

"Where are your bags? How long are you staying? Why do you smell like petrol?" she finally asked, leading me down the hallway to where my three sisters stood looking as though they'd seen a ghost. Since they no doubt thought I was dead, I suppose that made sense.

"No bags. Not sure. Long story. Can I have a shower and eat please? It's been a while since I've had food or sleep."

I must have looked dead on my feet because Mama sprang into action. "Of course my son," she said bustling off to the kitchen, tears still pouring down her face. Babushka finally let go of me, and I shuffled into the house to be attacked by my three sisters. Karolina first, then Sonya and finally Viktoria. Viktoria was the first to break away.

"No offense, Dimka, but you stink!"

I chuckled.

"I need a shower. Is anyone using my room?"

Karolina snorted.

"Not likely. Every time I suggest one of the kids have it Mama growls at me. She's keeping it vacant in the hope you'll move back home!"

I smiled. Mama would be in seventh heaven if I came back to live in Russia. Still – I couldn't see it happening. I climbed the stairs wearily up to the next floor where all the bedrooms were. I was walking down the familiar corridor to my room when the bathroom door opened and my nephew Paul stepped out. He screamed although I was proud to see he fell into a fighting stance as he did so.

I was so tired I probably could be taken out by a nine-year-old I thought to myself as I dropped down to his level, showing him my eyes.

"I'm your uncle Dimka – you remember me, Paul?" I said as soothingly as I could.

"For goodness sake, Paul – hug your uncle!" Karolina ordered having come up the stairs at the first shriek. "And don't frighten us all like that!" While she was trying to be fierce, I could see she was weeping. Paul gave me an uncertain hug before taking a wide step around me, going over to his mother. Karolina shrugged apologetically.

"It's ok, Karo," I said with a smile. "It's not every day a boy sees his uncle returned from the dead! I'll just have a shower, and then I'll come down and tell you all everything," I promised.

Stepping into my room, I was instantly transported back ten years. It was virtually unchanged since I was fifteen. The same posters, the same curtains, hell even the same quilt was on the bed. I hadn't lived here full time for many years, but it would always be home. I opened the small wardrobe, surprised to see there were still clothes in there. I chose the largest looking sweatshirt and pants I could find. While I'd hit my max height of six foot seven inches at around nineteen, I'd been the epitome of long and lanky. In the years between eighteen and twenty-one, I'd filled out, putting on most of my weight. But the increased training at St. Vladimir's had seen me amass even more muscle.

I grabbed a couple of towels from the hallway cupboard and went into the bathroom. Carefully preparing the soap, shampoo, and conditioner I'd need, I started the shower, pulling the hair tie from my long hair and sighing as it broke between my fingers. One blessing of being home was the never-ending hot water supply. Our hot water was centrally provided by the district and pumped to each house for use in the radiators and showering. It was always hot, but you had to be careful to check the cold water pipes had not frozen otherwise you could scald yourself. I waited the moments required to ensure there was flowing cold before I adjusted the taps and stepped into the stall.

I groaned with appreciation as the hot water coursed over my skin, loosening my tired and weary muscles. I closed my eyes and took several deep cleansing breaths before using the soap to scrub at every available inch of my body. I wanted to wash the horror of the mansion and its inhabitants from myself. Once my skin was a rosy pink from the water and my exertions, I shampooed and rinsed my hair twice before conditioning it. Running my hand over my face, it felt rough. I needed to shave, but that could wait. For now, I had other more pressing concerns – like eating, speaking with my family and calling my Roza!

I stepped out of the stall and quickly toweled myself down, dressing in the sweats. They were a little tighter than I wore these days but they fit well enough. Using my fingers to comb through my wet hair I dug around in the top drawer of the bathroom cabinet, finding a hot pink hair tie that no doubt belonged to one of my sisters. I sighed and kept digging, eventually finding a more manly dark brown elastic which I used to tie back my hair.

Back downstairs I was planning to use the phone to call Roza, but Mama was bringing the evening meal to the table. Meat dumplings. It was a fairly standard home meal, but right now I don't think I'd smelled anything more tempting in years.

"Thanks, Mama," I said hugging her again hard. "It's good to be home," I mumbled sitting at my usual place at the foot of the table. The family took their places, and Mama said a prayer before we ate, thanking the Lord many times for my safe return.

"Has Roza called?" I asked, my mind still on my beautiful girl.

"She called to tell us she'd spoken to you and pass on your message," Mama said sadly, "And then she left a message on the machine at Christmas. We haven't heard from her since we got the news you were missing."

I was surprised. I thought Rose would have called them more, but who knew what was going on there. Maybe she was too upset to call? I pushed it from my mind, for the time being, instead focusing on my food. I dug in, chewing and swallowing in satisfaction. They let me eat enough to satisfy my immediate needs before the questions started. They were all talking at once, and it was impossible to answer one question without the next person butting in.

"Let the young man speak!" Babushka barked in frustration, although she'd been asking as many questions as the others. I chuckled – I missed the easy interaction which came with being part of a large family. I started from the point I'd flown out from St. Vladimir's, telling them about being stationed outside Novosibirsk and how I'd been allowed to travel the city purchasing food.

"This whole time you were only six hours away?" Mama gasped. "Do you have any idea of how worried and upset we've been?!"

"I know, Mama. But I wasn't allowed to call. It could have put everyone in danger."

I continued, telling them about the cell, how we'd scoured the city looking for Strigoi and what had happened when they found us.

"Why did they save two of you and kill the others?"

"I think it's because I'm Russian. They mostly took those who had trained at St. Basil's," I said, the answer only just percolating its way through my subconscious now. "The Strigoi in charge of the whole operation was Galina," I explained.

My mother gasped in distress, her hand covering her mouth. Karolina and Sonya both looked shocked, but Viktoria was confused.

"Wasn't she some old teacher of yours?" she asked, looking at everyone's reactions. "There's a plaque up at St. Basil's for her."

"She was my mentor and an exceptional Guardian," I explained. "She was turned in Prague a few years ago." It was hard to put into words the sadness I was feeling. Now the adrenaline was gone the reality was sinking in. In all likelihood today I had killed my former mentor. I took a moment and ate another dumpling, mostly to give myself the opportunity to compose myself.

"I won't go into all the details about the mansion now," I said giving a pointed look in Paul's direction that the adults picked up on. "But Galina must have recognized my name on the list of those brought in because I'd only been there a few hours when she called for me. It was hard, Mama," I said – focusing my eyes on hers. "It was her, but it wasn't… I can't explain it," I drifted off. Even though she'd been Strigoi at the end, once she'd been my Mentor, and I didn't want to disrespect her memory. "She wanted me to be her second in command and help her rule her empire. She had an elaborate plan to take down the Moroi government. It was horrible and perverted. The whole place was." I decided then I wouldn't tell them about the sexual aspect of Galina's interest in me. I would never tell anyone about that other than my Roza.

"There was a full meeting of her army at the mansion yesterday and today. If things had gone according to her plan, I would have been being awakened about now," I said with a shudder. "Instead I blew up part of the mansion and set the rest on fire during the daylight. I also torched the cars so no one could escape. I called the main garrison in Moscow anonymously and explained they needed to destroy the place in daylight, and then I got out of there."

Karolina was crying, as was Mama. Babushka looked proud, and everyone else looked at me in disbelief. It was quite the story. I finished my meal, taking seconds and eating slowly. There were still many questions, so I took my time answering them. Karolina fetched Zoya to feed her, sending Paul up to dress and go to bed. We adjourned to the living room, everyone taking their designated places as long history dictated. The far end of the left sofa was still mine, so I settled there, stretching my long legs out in front of me.

"Would you like to hold your niece?" Karolina asked shyly, handing me the sleepy infant wrapped in a blanket. I took her with a smile, looking down at her gorgeous rosy cheeks. She was angelic.

"So, Sonya? You're pregnant?" I asked, pointing to her stomach as I voiced the observation I'd made at dinner.

"Yeah. Six months," she said giving me a defiant look. I knew better than to ask if the father was around.

Karolina stepped in quickly, "We're hoping it's a girl so she can grow up close with Zoya."

"That would be nice," I muttered, thinking my Guardian wage would now have to spread that little bit further.

"Mama, have you used any of the money in my bank account?" I asked.

"No. I haven't touched it. I have a bit saved from what you've sent us, and they paid your first Guardian pension last week," she said softly. "I was going to go and close it and move everything across in a week or two." Money was a sensitive topic in the family. Sonya got a small wage from working at the pharmacy, but other than that the family was entirely dependent on what I sent home.

"Well, I'll need to repay that to them," I said with a smile. "I should check my balance."

"You can use my school laptop to log in," Viktoria volunteered. "I'll set it up down here."

A couple of minutes later we were connecting to the Internet, and I was logging into my banking. It was frustratingly slow, but at least we had a connection. Typing in my username and password, I waited for the page to load. When it did my eyes nearly fell out of my head. Apparently even as a Strigoi, Galina's word had meant something. The last transaction in my account – the one I had added my mother to – was a one hundred million ruble deposit.

"What's wrong, son?" my mother asked me, looking at my ashen face.

Paul now in bed, I disclosed the darker part of my tale. The choice Galina had given me. I explained how I'd never intended to be turned, but how concerned I had been to provide for them should the worst happen.

"I asked her to make a payment so I knew you'd be provided for after I was turned."

"And she did?"

"She did," I said, gesturing Mama to come around and look at the figure on the screen.

That was the first and only time in my life I've heard my mother curse; then she hit me across the back of my head. Hard.

"You sold yourself?!"

"Mama – it wasn't like that," I pleaded, thankful now I'd not mentioned the sexual aspect of Galina's proposal. "I had to make her believe I was going to choose to be turned, and this was part of that. Also, I knew escaping was risky. If I was turned Strigoi, I needed to know you'd all be taken care of! A Guardian's pension is nothing – it wouldn't be enough to take care of you all! And babies aren't cheap!" I said gesturing to Sonya's belly.

"What if they come back for it?" she whispered, voicing my greatest fear.

"I don't think anyone will, Mama. I saw the mansion, and there was no escaping what happened there. And I told the garrison too. They knew about the mission and assured me they'd be sending every available Guardian in the area to make sure the place was burnt to the ground before nightfall."

I spoke confidently, but I was nervous. What if someone had escaped? What if someone came looking for me, or the money?

"That horror is over," Yeva said looking up from her knitting. "No one is coming for the money. Or the car." She smiled happily. The SUV was modern and had all the extras. It was a huge step up from the dilapidated car we owned which had been ancient when I was a child. How Babushka even knew about the car was anyone's bet – in all the other news, no one had asked me how I'd got here!

"Should have taken the Ferrari," I grumbled under my breath.

"So how much money did she transfer?" Viktoria asked curiously, moving around to try and look at the screen.

"None of your business," Mama snapped, gesturing for me to close the browser. "It's your brother's!"

"Mama that wasn't the intention. I want to transfer it to you. It would be a huge weight off my mind…"

She looked at me guiltily. We never spoke about just how much they relied on the wage I sent, and while I never resented it, being able to discharge that responsibility would be a relief.

"We'll talk about it later," was all she said, but I knew I'd won the argument.

"So are we rich now?" Sonya asked, her eyes lighting up.

"No. There's not enough to go silly, but it will help if we get another large unexpected bill," Mama lied. I went along with it. We'd always lived frugally, and there'd be no changing that now. I knew I could rely on Mama to spend the money wisely but make sure everyone had the small luxuries such a significant amount could easily provide.

The family was talking around me, giving me updates on neighbors and friends. Karolina was quite upset when I told her about Yaroslav. She knew him from her year at St. Basil's and said he'd been a decent guy.

I looked at the clock and was staggered to see it was already 11 pm. It was probably too late there to call Roza now I thought sadly. I'd have to wait until the morning. I remembered when we'd spoken in the Church; she'd said she'd been emailing me. Maybe I should read her emails now to catch up on some of her news before we spoke?

I wasn't sure whether my St. Vladimir's web login would still work, but I gave it a go, and it did. There were hundreds of emails. Staff rosters, campus notices and the like. There was also about thirty e-mails from Roza. I searched and pulled them all up. The most recent was less than forty-eight hours old. I half-listened to the talk of my family around me as I opened the e-mail.

My darling Dimitri,
You've been gone now five weeks, and still, I can't believe it. Somehow I thought were you really gone I'd feel it, but my heart refuses to believe even though my mind knows it's true. I got your letter, and it was beautiful, thank you. I could almost hear you reading it in my mind. I can remember you writing it at the hotel – how afterward you came back to bed, and we cried and held each other knowing it was our last night together.

I smiled. I'd wondered whether Alberta would pass on my letter to Rose. It had taken me a long time to write, and while it turns out it was precipitous, I'd meant what I said.

I rang your family on Tuesday to tell them about the baby. I'm sorry I didn't call them earlier. I guess I kept hoping you'd come back to be able to tell them our big news yourself, and once I knew you weren't coming home it was just one more thing I had to face that I put off. But I've done it now. I left a message on the answering machine and asked them to call me when they're ready to discuss, so hopefully they'll give me the benefit of the doubt and call me to give me a chance to explain.

Baby? What baby? I couldn't make sense so before jumping to conclusions I skimmed the rest of the e-mail.

… still stuck on a girl's name. I had a shortlist of boys' names … I think you'd approve … not going to be able to give our baby the surname Belikov - even though I want to with all my heart … public knowledge that Junior was created by two Dhampir … if your family call … Lissa is still not speaking to me … she's known about Junior for over a month now and hasn't once asked about him or her … eighteenth birthday in eight days … can find out if it's a boy or a girl at this scan … give you input even though you're not here … You're gone, and I should accept that, but I just can't … How much I still love you and how much I wish things had been different for you, me and our baby ... I love you, Comrade.Roza

My mind was reeling. If I was reading this correctly, Rose was emailing me, thinking I was deceased, but talking about being pregnant with our child. And according to this, my family knew. I looked around at the women surrounding me.

"So when were you planning to tell me my girlfriend is pregnant with my child?" I asked accusingly, taking in their facial expressions as the five women in my family looked at me.