TW: Unaliving themes/references

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)

RPOV

I am not sure anyone had ever run out of a room quicker than we did then. I dreaded to think how it must have looked to Father Andrew when all four of us successively charged out of the church without any sort of warning. But as you can well imagine, these thoughts of mine were entirely retrospective as at that moment I only had one consideration.

Lissa.

The pity I had felt for Avery's dilemma had vanished almost as quickly as we did from that attic. To be brutally frank, everyone alive has some shit they are dealing with, and most if not all of them manage it without disrupting the core balance of life and death, and definitely by not threatening my best friend.

To do so was to render yourself a piece of shit that I would not hesitate to deal with.

Unfortunately for Avery, I was not alone in the matter. Living up to my previous assessment, Christian had not wasted a single second, jumping to his feet, and bolting straight for the door. I was quick on his heels, and Eddie and Killian picked up the slack. The night was still young, with most of St. Vlad's still asleep. This meant that the corridors were clear, but uncomfortably quiet as they teetered on the edge of a new day.

We headed straight for the Moroi dorms, which were obviously located as far away from the church as you could get. So, it was really only a matter of time before the inevitable happened:

"Woah! Stop right there!"

Campus security. Two guardians, neither of whom I particularly recognised, stood in our way. The one who had spoken, a broad-shouldered male, had his hands raised to stop us, while the other, a young raven-haired female, had her hand wrapped around her stake.

"And just what do you think you are doing?" the male spoke again.

We didn't have time for this.

Patience had never been my forte and the current situation was not about to change that. "Sorry, but we've got go."

I made to move past them, but the male stepped forward. "I don't think so, young lady. You should not be run-hey! Stay right there!" He barked at Christian, who had tried to manoeuvre past him.

We really didn't have time for this.

"Sorry, but no – our friend is in danger, and we need to go."

"Oh, I'm sure." He said sarcastically, he turned to his companion. "Now see here, Guardian Scott, the lengths misbehaving students will go to in order to evade punishment. Do not be fooled."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I was milliseconds away from audibly swearing in his face when I felt Killian's hand around my arm, pulling me back. "Excuse me, Guardian Lumic, but I can vouge for them. Let them pass, and I will personally deal with the paperwork later."

The male gave Killian the once over. "And you are?"

Killian looked a little taken aback. "Guardian O'Hara."

At this, Lumic's eyebrows raised, and he nodded with a wry smirk. "Ah, so that would make you Miss Hathaway. I see."

I was really fighting the urge to smack him. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I, unlike certain other members of staff, will not be bending to your every whim, young lady." He said, flicking his eyes over to Killian, not bothering to hide their disdain.

I growled. "A student's life is at risk!"

He inhaled slowly. "Then Guardian O'Hara over here should have alerted the proper channels."

"Does it matter now!?"

He again ignored me. "Students do not go running into danger. That is basic. I would've thought even someone as…" he hesitated as to if to look for another word, "inexperienced as you, O'Hara, would know that."

Right, what was this guy's deal!? I was all but convinced that an actual Strigoi could've strolled in and he'd still be standing there with his inflated sense of superiority. Even the ever-considerate Eddie stood aghast. Christian on the other hand looked on the verge of a full-blown eruption. While Lumic's partner – the raven-haired girl, Scott –stepped forward to register a calm protest. "Maybe we should give them the benefit of the doubt, sir?"

Lumic didn't bother hiding his irritation, presumably at the very notion that a subordinate had dared to voice their own opinion on the situation and confirmed when the sentence: "And that is why you are charge here, sweetheart" breezed through his teeth. With his back turned to chastise Scott with breath-taking condensation, I saw an opportunity. Darting under his outstretched arm, I bolted once more. I heard Lumic yell again, but his protests were becoming ever more distant with every step I took, every corner I turned. A small part of me felt bad for leaving the others behind but said part found itself quickly suppressed when I was hit with a wave of something familiar. Very familiar.

I felt her fear before I heard her screams.

Lissa.

In that moment, I found myself caught between two impulses: the first told me to go to her, run and be with her; the second urged me to slip into her mind. The first was a loud and boisterous noise that bellowed with all the urgency of alarm, while the second was a subtler whisper as if it were a temptation. It was the everlasting tear in my mind that came from being bridged between two worlds: a split-second decision between internal or external? Near or far? Reality or magic?

And it was there that I chose reality.

I found her door locked, but the ever-effective combination of adrenaline in overdrive and a sturdy shoulder quickly saw to that. The wood splintered at the bolt and scattered around the threshold like shattered glass. I stepped in. The room was quiet and deathly cold. The slow deliberate breaths I took were matched by a ghostly gust that saw the hairs on the back of my neck raised. My eyes cut across the scene in a speedy yet calculated scan before stopping dead at the window.

With a hue of moonlight dancing through the voile that surrounded her, Lissa stood tall against the outside world. Her lean and graceful figure blended almost ethereally in the setting, elevated five stories above the flat of the Academy's grounds and looking over to the mountainous woodland that lay beyond.

This sight alone had brought me to an immediate shocked standstill, but I felt my heart jump into my throat as she leaned further through the open window. I dared not run at her, lest she fell by mistake. With more delicacy than I had ever managed in my life thus far, I edged towards her.

"Liss…" I whispered into the night; my hand followed my words in reaching towards her.

Her lack of response increased my alarm. As I edged closer, I caught sight of three bottles of vodka beside her bed: empty and discarded.

"Lissa, can you hear me?" My voice was steady and uncharacteristically softened with a tenderness that had sprung from sheer fear. In the glass of the open window, I saw her face reflected. There was an absent dullness in her eyes which told me that her mind was elsewhere. And very possibly not her own. Her lips were parted and trembled. But her teeth did not chatter, nor did the cold make her body shiver. She was trying to speak, but something was stopping her.

And I could well guess what.

Or rather who.

"Lissa, hear me. Fight her." I said, determination rising from my core. "Fight her, Liss. She does not control you. It's you. It's your hope; your despair; your love; your anger; your passion. It can take a million different forms, but it's always you."

A scuffle from behind me heralded the arrival of the others. Without turning around, I made a quick, dismissive gesture with my hand. In the back of my mind, I could still feel her fear crying out.

Crying out. She was fighting.

"Come on Liss," I whispered. "You can do it. Her compulsion is nothing to your willpower. Keep fighting. Come on, Lissa. Resist it."

And then came the scream. It started in that same spot in the back of my mind and bellowed out of Lissa's mouth with an almighty fury. A sharp pain jolted through my skull as though my mind were tearing. I winced and doubled over but forced myself into stumbling towards the window. That scream told me the pain in my head was but an echo of what was going on in Lissa's. Avery's wrath now damned, I reach out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back until she fell into my arms.

"Rose." She choked a little. "I was so scared. I couldn't do anything. She had it all. I…" I felt her tears hot and heavy on the back of my neck.

"I've got you. I've got you." I held her tight and she me tighter.

From where my head was clamped to her shoulder, I could see out onto the Academy's green. There stood a figure: distant, but immediately recognizable. I locked her gaze; her anger was almost palpable.

Do not think this is over.

"…I will throw a fireball into your mouth and watch you melt from the inside out. Get. Out. Of. My. Way."

It occurred to me that Christian had probably been threatening Killian for a lot longer than the five seconds I heard, so I did not begrudge him when he barged past the Irish professional and cupped the side of Lissa's face with his palm. I felt her look up and when she whispered "I'm okay. It's okay."

I didn't let go, though I allowed her out of my hold long enough for us both to slump on the end of her bed before my arm latched itself back around her shoulders. Christian squatted at her other side, holding her hand surprisingly gently for his anger not two minutes previously. When Killian approached, Eddie in tow, my gaze had refocused beyond them both and onto the outside world.

"You grand?"

"She's gone," I said into Lissa's hair, ignoring the question and staring out into the now empty field.

Misunderstanding, Killian assured me. "She won't get far."

I felt Lissa shudder. I squeezed her tighter. "That's not what worries me." I finally replied to Killian. Despite my hold of Lissa, my eyes darted about the room, taking in everything once more. "She was up to something. And we've just made her very angry."

In my periphery, Eddie visibly paled and shifted on his feet. Killian paused contemplatively before speaking again. "We need to take this to a senior level."

"Good job that Alberta's probably on her way then." Christian chirped up, staring blankly at one of the empty bottles by Lissa's bed.

I frowned and frowned again when I saw Killian's scowl. "I take it I missed something."

A slight smirk spread across Christian's face. "Only O'Hara knocking the shit out of Lumic's smug face."

My head snapped around. "What?" I said with a grin of my own. Dire circumstances notwithstanding, I couldn't deny the sheer elation that sentence brought me.

Killian's scowl remained but I could see it faltering at the corner of his lips. "It was a moment of weakness."

"Sounds like anything but."

He shot me a pointed look. "Not everything can be resolved by violence."

"It got you here though." I pointed out.

"It's also about to get me fired." He countered.

"Don't you worry, Hazza: I'll fight for you," I said with a wink.

At this, I saw that warm smile I had come to recognize as genuine grow across his features. His eyes met mine. "I don't doubt it." exacerbated but amused, he let out a small groan. "Oh, Rose. What have you done to me? I doubt Belikov would allow his judgment to be so impaired."

"Oh, you think?" Eddie cocked a brow towards me.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," I replied, mock aghast. In the corner of my eye, I saw Lissa smile despite her tears.

"Actually, where is Belikov?" Killian asked.

"He's surely managed to drag Adrian out of bed by now, so probably back at the church. I'll give him a ring." I reshuffled slightly to pull out my phone. I was surprised when Dimitri did not pick up immediately, perturbed when I was able to watch Eddie meander to closer inspect Lissa's widow and thoroughly disturbed when it rang out altogether.

My expression must have given some of this away as Lissa caught my gaze. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's fine," I said, convincing neither myself nor the room.

I rang again. Nothing.

Once more.

"Oh my God."

"Eddie, you alright?" We all turned and followed his gaze out.

"What the hell is that?"

A(drian) POV

There were three things I had learned since being at St Vladimir's. Firstly, it was remarkably easy to break into the place. Wards and guardians aside, basic maintenance was about as lax as any other building in America. So, as long as you were not a Strigoi and knew that the fire door in the west wing dorms was not in fact alarmed, you were pretty much good to go. This was largely a result of the second thing, that it was run more like a business than a school. Quality was more often than not regarded as an additional benefit as opposed to anything more foundational. I found this one out when I requested that my window be upgraded. This was, however, and with limited regard to the glaring security risk, promptly denied due to budgetary restrictions. I mean, why buy fitted double glazing when the single bays cost a fraction of the price and have the option to come in bulk? To hell with student welfare – you want comfort? Peace of mind? Defence against the freezing Montana winters? Open your chequebook: we'll sell you a jumper. Irritably, neither the west wing fire door nor my dodgy windows provided much hope of getting out of this room. Some creative thinking was required, however, for all its pretences otherwise, that was not something widely encouraged at St Vlad's. I mean, heaven forbid anyone should act outside the box – that could be libellous! It also didn't help that my mental faculties were barely hanging on by a thread.

Thus, came point number three: as loathed as I was to say it, if you were ever in a pickle, Belikov was usually a good person to have about. For all his serious and frankly killjoy tendencies, he had his head screwed on. He seemed to more about the real world than most of the people at the Academy and appreciated that blanket ruling did not always afford the most effective response. That he was also handy in a fight was also a bonus.

But good God, the man was not light.

"Shit a brick, Belikov," I grunted, dragging him from where he had fallen to the ground. The room was an eerie quiet – the kind of silence where you could hear the blood pumping through your veins. Avery had left. It could have been anywhere between five minutes or an hour ago. I had remained paralyzed to the bedpost, hyperaware of every creak, every shadow, thinking it could be her. Nothing worse than paranoia based on reality.

I had managed to calm myself enough to attempt another disentanglement. With the pain still shooting through my shoulders, I managed to detach from the bedpost by probably inflicting more damage. I didn't even bother trying to untie my wrists or removing the gag. Instead, I crawled toward Belikov on my elbows, my upper body convulsing over with the throbbing pain. It took all my willpower not to just crawl into a ball and start crying. When I reached him, I saw the blood first – already clotting in his hair. I leant my cheek over his face. Even with the gag stripped across my head, I felt his breath and saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

My moving him was an attempt to get him onto the rug, partly to lessen his discomfort against the hard wooden floor but mainly to get the moonlight into his face. It occurred to me that I could turn on the light, but a sense of dread filled me at the prospect, something in the depth of my stomach that felt like it was pulling me inward. I caught sight of one of my whiskey bottles and felt a pang of desire shoot through me. It compelled me closer almost hypostatically, but the trance was quickly broken by a slight stir from the Russian.

"Belikov!" Once again, I forgot I was gagged and the noise that left my mouth could hardly be considered intelligible, heck it was barely audible. I opted to try and shake his shoulders, but with my hands tied as they were, I ended up nearly strangling him. Leaning back on my knees, I wracked my brain for other ways to wake someone who was unconscious. Granted, my expertise was very much derived from instances of alcohol poisoning, but you work with what you have.

Which is how I ended up relentlessly pinching Belikov under the forearm.

Thankfully, no one was around to see this. It was also working. Dimitri squirmed and groaned, his eyelids fluttering. He muttered something and I smiled. It always entertained me how he swore in Russian thinking no one would understand him.

He grumbled, first in frustration then in threat: "Кто там?"

I rolled my eyes. "A-dri-an," I force the syllables out from behind the gag. When I saw him frown, I grabbed his hand and forced it to feel the rope that bound mine. His frown deepened and I brought his hand to the gag. It was slightly alarming how quickly recognition filled his disoriented features. Realising his hand from my grasp, he felt his way around the back of my head and undid the knot. "Thanks," I said as the rope loosened from my mouth, my dry lips clapping as I stretched out my jaw.

Belikov nodded and began pushing himself up. Wincing, he placed his hand on the back of his head. "What did she hit me with?"

"Shovel," I replied.

Dimitri raised both his eyebrows in surprise and then nodded. "Sure."

"She's the Spirit user," I said before sinking my teeth into the knot around my wrists.

At this, he produced a wry smile. "Yeah."

I chuckled and looked up. "Ah, coming to warn me, were you?"

"Something like that."

The knot sprang free. "Nice to know you care."

He shook his head. "We need to get to Rose." He patted down his side, the infamous frown returning.

I decided to help him out. "She took your phone," I said, feeling the rope fall through my fingers.

He didn't seem particularly phased by this. "I assume she locked us in as well."

"Melted the lock." This piqued his interest. The tightness in my stomach intensified. Distract. "Yeah, it was quite impressive, all things considered."

Another wry smile. "And the hinge opens inward."

I chuckled. "Yep, no bashing your way out of this."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "No other way out?"

"Not unless you can fly."

With surprising indifference, he shrugged. "It's only four floors."

I cocked a brow. "Straight onto concrete, but if you want to break your legs…"

He chuckled. "It's likely, not guaranteed though."

Surprising though it was to see him so light-hearted, I was oddly glad of it. The feeling of internal dread had not subsided, and Belikov's quips provided a levity that while not totally effective, was not unwelcome. Did he know?

I swallowed and stood, grunting at the pain from the movement of my disturbed shoulder. Belikov's head snapped around.

"You're hurt." It wasn't a question.

I squeezed my eyes. "Shoulder, not sure what I've done to it." I opened my eyes just as Belikov was close enough to put his hand on my shoulder. "Woah, Jesus Belikov!"

"It's not dislocated." He said. "Best not to move it though."

I rolled my eyes. "No shit."

He once again was unbothered, far more interested in the room around him. His look of concentration had remained unchanged from before he had lost his sight; perhaps it was a little more strained, for all his stoic tendencies the slightest irregularity spoke volumes. I watched as his chest rose a little more than the previous breath and recognised it as a sigh.

"Where is the door?"

I smile, a kinder smile than I had in a long time, but I would be lying if it wasn't also influenced by pity. "Straight ahead of you."

He nodded his thanks and walked towards it. Reaching his hand out, he felt his way towards the door's edge. When he reached the door's handle, his hand retracted – either by a splinter or the heat of the still-cooling melted metal. He recovered within milliseconds and had his hand back on the door edge, near the lock. I watched him frown before he produced his stake. I was surprised that Avery hadn't taken it. Evidently, the thought of Belikov staking her was less of a concern than a Strigoi breaking in a killing us both. She still wanted me alive. The thought did nothing to appease the ever-sickening feeling in my stomach. Ignore it.

Belikov brought his stake towards where the lock met the doorframe. He moved the hilt in his palm as though it were an extension of himself, considering a few angles before turning to me.

"Do you have a poker?"

I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Another wry smile crossed his features. "The shovel we were hit with, part of a fireplace set, no?" he clarified. "The stake is a little big for the door."

I smiled. He really was clever. Catching sight of the set by the marbled arch, I walked over and picked up the narrow metal stick that I assumed was the 'poker'. Once I had handed them to Dimitri, he resumed his inspection of the door's edge before all but staking the poker through the narrow wedge and thrusting it down. There was a mighty clunk several splintered shards pinged from the lock such that I felt the need to get out of the way. But the door did not move. Belikov repositioned and yanked again with the precision that told me this was not the first time he had attempted to break a lock. When it yielded no reward once more, he sighed.

"Worth a shot," I said, not 100% sure for who's benefit.

"The door is too thick to hack through." He said, removing the now misshapen poker from where it had wedged. "It is also unlikely that anyone would be able to hear us from this part of the Academy."

"That's what you get for locking me out in the sticks."

"Good to know that we could."

I snorted. "Charming. You got any more bright ideas?"

His face resumed its pensiveness, his frown directed towards where the moonlight bled through the window. I saw his head twitch to the side, just a little. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear wh-" I cut myself off when I heard it: something between the wind and a scream. The dread within me rose like an inferno, but I stood frozen to the ground staring out. The sky ripped in two and I could no longer stop the tears falling down my face.