28. Almost Home

(Mikhail POV)

It was strange waking up in my old room in the guardian quarters at Court. The place looked basically the same as I remembered, only now it had an empty, soulless feeling and I knew it wasn't home anymore. Rising from bed, I packed a few personal items I'd left behind when I first took up the post at St. Vladimir's three and a half months ago, then glanced around one final time. Living and working here had been a great chapter in my life but now my place was in Montana with the one who always made me feel like I was home. Grabbing my phone, I punched in Hans Croft's number and only five minutes later I locked the door to my quarters for the last time, heading towards the café where Hans and I had made plans for an early breakfast.

'Can't get enough of me?' Hans joked as I slid into the booth across from him, placing our steaming coffees on the table between us. My companion was a tough old battle-axe – he'd never told me his age but I guessed he was in his early fifties. He was short and stocky, nearly as wide as he was tall, and the dozens of molnija marks that covered his neck were a testament to his prowess as a fighter.

'You might say that,' I smiled back nervously. 'Actually, there's something I need to talk to you about,' I began.

'Here we go,' Hans sighed, leaning back in the seat and assuming an all-knowing expression.

'What do you mean?' I asked him. I hadn't shared my plans with anyone except for Sonya so I wasn't sure how my boss had already guessed what I was about to say.

'I've known you for five years Mikhail. It's pretty obvious something's happened to you at St. Vladimir's. You look tired and serious. You're hovering in your seat like you might run off at any second. And you brought me a black coffee when you know I only drink tea. I'm guessing you've found yourself a woman.'

I shook my head in disbelief – I thought I'd been discrete but Hans could read me like a book.

'You win, old man,' I chuckled self-consciously, perusing the breakfast menu as I prepared to fill him in on the details. 'But she's not just a woman – she the woman.'

He raised his eyebrows dubiously.

'I mean it,' I added fervently, putting the menu down. 'She's smart, funny, complicated, beautiful… and she said she will be mine,' I finished more quietly. 'I want a permanent transfer to St. Vladimir's so I can be closer to her.'

Hans let out a low whistle. 'Sounds like it's the real thing, kid. And I guess she works at the school? Guardian?'

'Yes and no. She's a teacher – a moroi,' I corrected him, waiting for his reaction.

'Bloody hell!' he exclaimed under his breath. The old guardian couldn't hide his appalled expression and I could see his brain going a mile a minute. 'Have you discussed the implications with her? She needs to know there are moroi and dhampirs out there who will judge her harshly for her choice – she will need to be a very strong woman to put up with the stigma.'

I wrapped my hands around the tall coffee cup, trying to stay calm. 'We're not planning to make it public knowledge just yet, but she's dealt with high pressure before – if anybody can handle it, it's her.'

My boss narrowed his eyes, clearly finding it difficult to believe me.

'I didn't mean for this to happen, Hans,' I tried to explain. 'I wasn't looking for a relationship – not even a casual affair, but now it's happened I can't bring myself to ignore it.'

'And what about your work?' my friend pushed on. 'Are you going to be able to keep your mind on the job when it counts? I'm just not sure you've thought it through, Mikhail. Do you know what will happen when people like Guardian Steele find out? One tiny slip-up and they will treat you like a traitor – like you've betrayed you own kind. Can you live with that? It would be easier on both of you if you end things now before it gets too serious.' His words reminded me uncannily of Victor Dashkov's advice, and I suddenly snapped.

'You don't understand, Hans. This isn't just some torrid affair. I mean to marry her,' I hissed, bringing my fist down on the table, making the crockery jump and causing several customers at the surrounding tables to look our way. I reminded myself to calm down and lowered my voice before continuing. 'And even if life with her proves to be difficult, it will be a thousand times better than life without her. I'm sorry if that bothers you but my mind is made up.' I set my jaw stubbornly and looked out the window of the café, imagining myself a world away from here.

I felt a hand on my arm and when I looked back Hans' was still frowning but there was a new understanding behind his expression.

'Very well,' he said. 'I didn't mean to offend you, Mikhail, but our world can be a harsh place, and I needed to make sure you know what you're in for. If there's a way you can make it work with your moroi lady and still get the job done then I won't stand in your way. I'll draw up the transfer paperwork tomorrow and fax the relevant documents through to the Captain of the School Guard for her approval.' He held my gaze for a moment longer then glanced down at his coffee. 'Now can you get me a bloody cup of tea. I'm parched,' he grimaced, and I smiled at him gratefully, so relieved to have his support.

After Hans and I had finished our drinks I decided to get my breakfast to go. I ate my toasted sandwich as I walked the few blocks to the public archives, brushing the crumbs off my fingers before entering the dimly-lit vaulted room.

Sonya had asked me to hunt for clues about her magic but I had no idea where to start – getting a dhampir to research an obscure form of moroi magic was probably not the most practical choice. All I knew on the subject was that moroi had once used their magic to fight alongside dhampirs, but over time the practice had gone out of fashion and eventually was outlawed. Now magic was essentially just used as a party trick.

I followed the signs to a section marked Spirituality, Ethics and Magic and ran my fingers over the spine of each book, trying to find a title that sounded relevant, but nothing jumped out at me. Eventually I came across a book called Magic through the Ages and I'd just flipped to the index at the back when I was greeted by a thin, quavery voice.

'Guardian Tanner? Fancy meeting you here!'

I turned to see Father Nathaniel, the priest from the Court cathedral, and I put my book down to shake his hand.

'I see you're in my neck of the woods,' he indicated to the tomes of religious writings that surrounded us. 'Is there anything I can help you with?'

I thought for a moment and realised that if I was going to get anywhere with my search I needed help from an expert. I figured I could ask for assistance without being too specific about my reasons.

'I'm actually doing some research on a private matter,' I explained quietly. 'Do you remember when I told you about my sister Catalina?'

The priest nodded seriously and waited for me to continue.

'I always thought she suffered from a mental illness, which may have contributed to her death, but I'm beginning to believe something else was making her sick – something to do with her magical abilities. Are you aware of any unusual forms of moroi magic that might be stronger than the standard elemental specialisations? Some kind of power that could have drained her energy and made her unwell?'

I knew it was a strange thing to ask but Father Nathaniel looked unruffled as he considered my question.

'Since creation, moroi have possessed magical abilities, some more capable and gifted in the arts than others. St. Vladimir was one who stood out from the rest, and he achieved great things – healings, miracles, some even say he brought his companion Anna back to life – all through his strength of spirit. It is written that St. Vladimir suffered deeply as a result of his spirit magic, so I imagine that your theory is a possibility, though I haven't heard of any recent cases. I would be happy to write down a few references for you to help you with your research, if you like?'

'I'd appreciate that, Father, more than you could know,' I replied gratefully.

He wandered off to a study desk at the end of the aisle and sat down, occasionally getting up to check a huge catalogue before scratching away at his notebook again. Fifteen minutes later, the old man returned and handed me the journal. I opened it and went to tear out the relevant pages but he put his gnarled fingers over mine to stop me.

'Keep the book, child,' he urged gently. 'Answers to life's bigger questions don't normally come easily, and you might have need of a few extra pages as you continue your search. Do let me know if you discover anything useful.' He pressed the small leather-bound journal into my hands, and I thanked him sincerely before making my way out into the night.

I checked my watch and saw it was just about time to head to the airport. Making my way to Guardian HQ to organise a car, I was happily surprised to see my friend Don Kardos on duty at the front desk, a broad smile spreading over his face.

'Don!' I clapped my hand into his and he pumped my arm warmly.

'Mikhail! To what do we owe this honour?' he asked.

'I'm actually on a whirlwind visit – I'm heading back to St. Vladimir's now and need to borrow a car to get to the airport. Do you know if anybody is available to give me a lift?'

Don checked the roster on the wall behind him then grabbed a set of keys.

'You're looking at him!' he grinned. 'Guardian Moore is due to relieve me any minute. You couldn't have timed it better!' and at that moment a tall, slim man entered the office to take up his position at the main desk.

After two hours of easy conversation and reminiscing Don and I cruised into Pittsburgh, but when my friend shifted lanes to take the airport exit I put my hand up to stop him.

'Actually, do you want to grab a drink first? I've still got an hour before I need to be there and there's something I want to ask you before I fly out.'

He agreed readily, never a man to turn down a drink, and we drove along Pittsburgh's south shore until we found a quiet bar. After finding a parking spot one block down we headed into the bar, ordering a couple of beers and sitting at a private table off to the side of the room.

'So, what gives?' Don asked as soon as we sat down. 'You've been grilling me about Court news the entire trip down and haven't once mentioned how things are going with you.'

We'd known one another for a long time, so I wasn't surprised he was onto me.

'Can you keep a secret?' I asked.

'You know I can,' he replied immediately, with an slightly indignant shake of his sandy brown hair.

Of course I knew he was good for his word but I still had to tread carefully. 'I've met someone and I'm going to ask her to marry me,' I began cautiously, nearly dropping my drink when Don slapped me hard on the shoulder.

'Congratulations, Misha! So why are you keeping it all hush-hush?' he asked, eyes wide with excitement.

'You know how some people feel about guardians having a personal life,' I explained, relieved he'd reacted so well. 'I just don't want to stir up trouble.'

'So why'd you tell me then,' he grinned wickedly.

I slid an envelope over to him and he looked down at it questioningly.

'These are the designs for the engagement ring I want made up, along with cash payment for the jeweller. Could you organise the particulars then have it sent to me? People will find out eventually but I don't want anybody tracing this particular purchase to me just yet.'

My friend's eyes lit up at the task – clearly he liked the idea of conspiring to arrange an illicit marriage. 'What's in it for me?' he narrowed his hazel eyes deviously.

'Well, I'll need a best man eventually,' I suggested, and he shook my hand to finalise the deal. 'I'll get the item to you as soon as it is ready,' he did his best mobster impression, then looked at his watch, 'but for now, I'd better get you to the airport or you'll miss your plane. You go ahead to the car – I've just got to use the bathroom.'

I headed out of the bar and began walking down the dark street when I was surprised by a flash of movement to my right. A split-second later my head snapped backwards and time stood still as I struggled to figure out what had just happened. Trying to focus through the dull ringing sound in my ears, I staggered back to my feet but not before another blow landed under my ribs, narrowly missing my kidney. I fell to the ground and my feet scrabbled wildly against the pavement as I felt myself being dragged into an alleyway.

Even through the pain and the faint haze left by the beer I'd just finished, my training kicked in and I managed to rise, regaining my balance and throwing a solid punch that missed its mark but still caught my assailant's shoulder, knocking him sideways. By the time he came at me again I felt more prepared, raising my arms to deflect the next blow and using the man's force against him to flip him onto his back. I was just about to land a kick to the knee that would have disabled my attacker's leg when something heavy smashed into the back of my skull. There must have been a second assailant. My legs gave way and I sunk to my knees. Instinctively reaching up to clutch my head, I could feel something warm and sticky oozing through my hair and I knew I would pass out soon if I didn't apply pressure to the wound.

But protecting my head meant leaving my torso exposed, and the man who had just struck me from behind circled around to face me, landing a kick to my stomach that knocked me flat, making me double up in agony. I swayed as I tried to rise to my knees, struggling to identify my attacker. If it was a strigoi I'd already be dead, but the attacks were too targeted, too efficient to be coming from a couple of street thugs. When the second man advanced again I gritted my teeth and prepared myself for the next blow, but he grabbed me by the front of my shirt and leant down to whisper something in my ear.

'I'd like to see you protect Sonya Karp after this,' he spat maliciously, before drawing his hand back then striking down with all of his force, shattering my collarbone.

'Spiridon,' I registered weakly, numbly aware of my body jolting as he kicked me again and again before I finally drifted off into the blackness.

Author's Note:

Nooooooo! The shit has hit the fan. Mikhail was so close to returning home and he's been put down by his ex-friend/enemy.

Apart from the nasty ending, we got a pretty good insight into Mikhail's support system at Court – characters who will likely pop up again.

While I actually enjoyed choreographing the final scene, the most important part of this chapter is probably Mikhail's conversation with the priest. Now he can put a name to Sonya's magic & they have a starting point to research the topic (if he recovers enough actually see her again).