So…strap in – this is going to be a big chapter.

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31. One Last Kiss

(Mikhail POV)

I leant over awkwardly to pick up my phone from the stack of books on my bedside table, wincing slightly as my arm brushed against the edge of the bed, sending a shooting pain up through my shoulder. Being a guardian was a tough job and I was used to dealing with injuries, but the road to recovery wasn't going to be so easy this time around. Doctor Orlov, the chief Court physician, had ordered me to wear a sling to immobilise my arm, and I had so much strapping over my torso to support my broken ribs that it felt like I was in a full body cast, making even the smallest movements I attempted feel stiff and clumsy. Shifting carefully to sit up against a mountain of pillows, I dialled my voicemail message-bank and waited for the prompts.

The first message was from Don, letting me know he'd been declared fit to return to duties today. He promised to stop in after his first shift to catch me up on the latest news and I was already looking forward to the visit. We'd been ward buddies for a week or so after the attack, and I missed having his company to pass the time. I was also curious if he'd heard any more about the official investigation into the Pittsburgh incident – my memory of the event was extremely sketchy, and while I had my suspicions about who was behind the attack I still didn't know for sure. The next caller was Yuri, who'd rung to see how I was going, and the third message was from Father Nathaniel saying he'd found some more reading material for me if I had finished with the last lot.

After the new messages played through, my voicemail clicked over to the one saved message, and I closed my eyes as I imagined the face of the woman whose voice had given me such solace in my quiet hours of pain, frustration and loneliness.

'Misha. I know what happened. I love you. Please don't worry about me. Just concentrate on getting better. I'll come and visit you as soon as I can, but until then, look for me in your dreams.'

I wanted to be with her in person, to hold her in my arms and let her know how much she meant to me, but my body had betrayed me. While my recovery was progressing as well as could be expected, I was about to start a course of intensive physio sessions to get myself back in shape, which meant I would be stuck in Pennsylvania for at least another month. If the time went by as slowly as it had over the past fortnight I wasn't sure how I'd cope without Sonya by my side. Thank goodness we still had our daily dream-visits – it wasn't quite the real thing, but it was enough for now.

Putting my phone back on the bedside table, I edged myself down under the covers and steadied my breathing, allowing the memory of Sonya's voice to usher me into sleep where I would have the chance to see her again.

'How are you feeling?' a familiar voice whispered in my ear as my beautiful woman sat down beside me.

'Better now,' I replied, turning my head to briefly meet her lips, delighting in the warmth of her skin as she slipped her hand into mine. 'So where have you brought me today?' I asked, peering through the mist that hung around us.

'Just a little palace in Vienna,' her eyes crinkled into a smile as she squeezed my fingers and waited to see my reaction.

We were in some kind of art gallery, empty except for us. A broad, red wall curved out in front of us, with a large painting hung in its centre.

'The Kiss,' Sonya spoke in a hushed, reverent voice. 'By Gustav Klimt. Do you know it?'

I studied the pair of figures entwined in an intimate embrace. The man stooped over his lover, encircling her with his golden robe as he kissed her delicate upturned cheek, while the woman knelt in a pose of surrender and serenity, melting into his arms. Their moment of bliss was set against a shimmering golden backdrop, and the carpet of rich purple and indigo flowers at the couple's feet injected a vibrancy to the scene that took my breath away.

'She looks like you,' I whispered, shifting my gaze from the painting to the beautiful creature at my side. No matter how many times I saw Sonya's face, traced her lips, or looked into the depths of her eyes, I would never tire of this woman. She had a way of fascinating me, making me feel so alive, and I still couldn't quite believe I had a whole lifetime ahead of me to explore her secrets and discover new ways to please her. Inspired by the painting, I adjusted my position to recreate the kiss with my own lover, and was overtaken by an intoxicating blend of desire and devotion as I felt her respond to my touch.

'I can't get enough of you, Sonya Karp,' I murmured against her cheek, and she smiled softly at my words, her eyes still closed as she enjoyed the closeness we had been denied for weeks. We clung together for a while longer before I eventually settled back on the chair and drew her in to rest against my chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

'So did you bring me here to get lucky?' I teased lightly as I combed my fingers through her hair, half-hoping she would say yes. We'd put our dream-visits to good use for the past week or so, but things hadn't gotten quite as intimate as they had the night before I left The Academy. We were still figuring out how this whole dream thing worked, and I wasn't sure how much of what I experienced in the dream could affect my reality and vice versa. Occasionally the pain from my injuries would manifest in the dream, as though my actions had made me move in my sleep, and I was forced to consider at one point how awkward it might be to wake up and discover I'd been humping a pillow. Probably best to wait until I was in a private room further away from the nurses' station just in case!

'You wish,' she grinned, but ran her hand up my thigh to let me know it was a desire that she shared as well.

'You'd better believe it,' I breathed, pressing a kiss to her temple. 'So what's the significance of the painting then?' I prompted her, silently willing her to distract me from the primal urges that were building with each passing moment.

'Actually, it reminded me of something I saw the morning of the raven incident, and I have a theory I want to run past you,' she said, standing up to lead me closer to the painting.

Sonya had filled me in on the bizarre bird resurrection story, and we'd discussed it several times, trying to understand what it meant. We agreed that Vasilisa Dragomir possessed magical powers like Sonya and had put herself in grave danger by revealing them. It was likely that The Academy was no longer a safe place for her to be, but until Victor Dashkov made his next move there was little we could do except monitor the situation and step in if things turned south.

In the meantime, I'd spent hours poring over the historical writings Father Nathaniel had given me, trying to find out more about St. Vladimir's Spirit magic, and Sonya greedily soaked up any new information I was able to pass on to her. After spending half her life wondering what was wrong with her, and struggling to control her unusual magical abilities, it must have been such a relief to give her magic a name, and to learn she wasn't the only one.

'I've always loved Klimt's golden phase,' Sonya told me, gesturing to the artwork in front of us. 'I guess his work reminds me of that pure, invincible feeling that overcomes me when I use spirit magic – it saturates my aura and lifts me to another plane, and in that small moment it feels like nothing can harm me. It's only later when the magic begins to fade that I remember that the darkness has been right there all along, waiting for me.' She shuddered slightly but managed to shrug off the distressing memories.

'You've got streaks of that same gold in your aura, Misha, did you know?' she continued, turning to face me, reaching for my hands and lacing her fingers through mine.

My sister Catalina had told me as much, and I had always wondered what it meant.

'I realise you can't wield the magic because you're a dhampir, but I think that maybe there's something in the moroi half of your DNA that has made you sensitive to spirit – in tune with it somehow. I think that might be how you find me and bring me back when the shadows threaten to take me – it's like we are bonded on some deeper spiritual level.'

The idea made so much sense. I had felt connected to Sonya from the first moment I saw her – yes, there might have been an immediate physical attraction, but that was only one small part of it.

'I think you're right, Sonechka.' We held one another's gaze, sensing the connection between us, but moments later I tore my eyes away, looking around in bewilderment as Sonya manipulated the dream, projecting our auras out for me to see. A rich golden shimmer surrounded her face and hair, blending at the edges with a softer blue that glistened in my peripheral vision, our two fields of colour connected by hundreds of fine strands of pure light.

'Amazing, isn't it?' she breathed, as I struggled to comprehend what I was seeing. Sonya smiled at my astonished expression then let the colours dissolve.

'There is only one other time I've ever seen a dhampir with a golden aura, and it was very different to yours,' she went on to explain. 'When Princess Vasilisa used her power to heal the dead raven, I saw her aura light up with spirit magic, but a second later the same colour flooded through her friend Rosemarie Hathaway. I haven't quite figured out the details yet, but I think they share some kind of bond similar to ours. Maybe in time we can talk to both of the girls and help them understand more about spirit too?'

I drew my brows together and nodded thoughtfully. 'I'll take another look in Father Nathaniel's books to see if I can find something that might explain a link between spirit users and their companions,' I suggested, lifting a hand to trace the outline of her face as I admired her selfless nature. She looked at me gratefully, but something changed in her face and it seemed like she was starting to fade.

'I think somebody is trying to wake me up,' I apologised hastily, leaning forward to give her one last kiss before she slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.

'Long time, no see, Misha,' said a voice by my ear.

Blinking my eyes open, I registered the shape of a man sitting by my bedside, and through the bleary haze of sleep there was something uncannily familiar about the outline of his broad shoulders and spiked hair. Suddenly my memory jolted me back to the night of the attack where I'd seen this same man – a man I'd once called a friend – poised above me before he smashed my collarbone to pieces. I rolled over to get into a more defensive position, releasing a hiss of pain as my bruised muscles cried out at the sudden movement.

'Relax Mikhail,' the tall guardian soothed. 'Nobody's going to hurt you. I just came to say how sorry we all were to hear about the attack. I can't imagine how difficult it must be coming to terms with the fact you lost a fight to some pub trash, but you're nearly thirty now aren't you? I guess we all lose our edge eventually.'

'What do you want from me, Spiridon,' I said through clenched teeth. 'I'm not quite ready for a rematch yet, but if you come back in a month I'd be happy to show you how strong I'm feeling then.'

He laughed thinly. 'Don't worry old friend. I'm just here on a flying visit. My charge and I stopped in at Court to collect a few supplies for our upcoming road trip to Montana, and I thought it would be a good idea to check in on you before we leave. The prince wanted me to pass on his deepest sympathies for what happened. He also thought you should know he may have found a better candidate for the position he's been trying to fill, but either way he is looking forward to meeting our mutual friend again very soon.'

Good God. He planned to take both of them – Sonya and the Dragomir princess, I realised in horror, gripping the bar above my bed to pull myself higher up on the pillows.

'Well then,' Spiridon reached forward to rest a consoling hand on my wounded shoulder, 'I've got to go. You take your time to rest up – no point rushing back to work till you're properly recovered.' He smiled warmly and squeezed his fingers just firmly enough for me to feel my stitches tear, reopening the surgical wound as he dug slowly into my damaged tendons. A sharp, burning pain radiated out in waves through my arm and torso, but I fought the urge to pass out, gritting my teeth and striving to keep my face expressionless as I stared defiantly into his cruel eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking I was a weaker man.

Finally, my visitor turned to leave, and as soon as I heard his footsteps fade away I released my breath in a slow hiss, grimacing as I gripped my shoulder in an effort to stem the flow of blood that was already seeping through my dressing. I remained like that for another minute, focusing on slowing my racing heart rate before reaching gingerly for my phone. I couldn't wait for tomorrow's dream to talk to Sonya – every second that passed Victor Dashkov was getting closer to his prize, and I couldn't allow him to take the most precious thing in my life, or get his life-sucking hands on the Princess Vasilisa either.

'Misha?' Sonya asked curiously when she picked up the phone, but then stopped as she heard the catch in my breath. 'Misha, what's wrong?'

'Prince Dashkov,' the tension was clear in my voice. 'He's on his way.'

'What? What's going on Misha?' the sound of her rising panic hurt me more than any of my injuries and I resolved to be strong for her. She needed to concentrate on making a plan to get away, not worrying about me.

'I've just had a visit from one of Dashkov's personal guards,' I explained quickly. 'He told me the prince is coming for you and Princess Vasilisa. They are travelling by car, but even with rest-stops they could arrive at The Academy in less than forty-eight hours. You need to get yourself and the princess to safety as soon as possible. Take Rosemarie Hathaway with you – she's not a guardian yet, but her training is sound and her bond with Vasilisa may come in handy.'

I had to make sure Sonya went so far away that Victor Dashkov would never find her. Never be able to drain her spirit to benefit himself. Never sentence her to a life of darkness.

'Get as far from The Academy as you can, as quickly as you can. Go somewhere where you can get lost in a crowd. Keep moving. Don't trust anybody. I'll come and find you as soon as they let me out of here. Just… run.'

Author's Note:

This is a BIG chapter that weaves together a few of my favourite concepts & references…

1. Klimt – one of my favourite artists of all time. It felt good to honour him in this small way.

2. Misery – the creepy movie where a woman re-breaks a guy's leg so he will stay with her. I did consider letting Spiridon re-break Misha's collarbone to make him stay put, but in the end I couldn't do it - he's suffered enough!

3. Auras – I had the idea about Mikhail having streaks of gold in his aura for a long time. I am totally sold on the idea that there could be Dhampirs who have sensitivity to certain types of magic (passed on from their Moroi parent) and this is how Mikhail balances Sonya out. What do you think?