Dear Diary,
You would think that after eighteen years of living with my grandmother, I would have developed at least a tiny bit of immunity to the intensity of her gaze; I like to think I've become a rather strong-willed woman in my own right—I do not let others walk all over me, and if something needs saying, I rarely hold my tongue. Despite those things, all it takes is one stern look from Yeva, and the steel in my spine starts to melt away, leaving me floundering and unsure as my will bends to her own.
As luck would have it, we were so swept up in our kisses that it took us a moment to realize the car had pulled to a stop. Disentangling ourselves and climbing out onto the tarmac, we were both rather red-faced at the realization everyone was looking our way. It was easy to see that my grandmother was less than pleased, though I wasn't inclined to think that her surly mood was entirely due to being kept waiting. Rather, her ire seemed to stem from whatever conversation was passing between Alberta and Emil. Her dark eyes flicked between the two guardians, her mouth compressing and tightening into a thin line of disapproval in response to what she was hearing. Catching the tail end of the discussion as we approached, my stomach clenched in a tight knot of dismay—suddenly, I understood why she looked so tense.
"It's a bad call, Alberta—You've heard the same rumors I have about his behavior after Vasilisa restored him. Being subjected to an inquest… it's liable to set him back again. Surely you could—"
"I have no control over the Council—if they want to question him, there's not a damn thing we can do to stop it." Alberta glanced over at me, frowning as I moved to slide my arm around Yeva's shoulders.
"Question who… about what?" I asked, wanting clarification, giving Yeva a gentle squeeze—the gesture was just as much to comfort me as it was her since I had a horrible sinking feeling that I already knew the answer to my question.
"The Guardians will be collecting Molly's body when they pick up Voda and Carslile," she said softly. "The Council wants to ascertain exactly what happened to her in the cave."
I tensed. "They think my brother knows something—"
"Or they plan on blaming him… trying to make it look like he played some part in her death," Yeva spat out. "It is an old-fashioned witch hunt, and my Dimitri is their target."
"You're jumping to conclusions—"
"Am I? Do you honestly think all their suspicions have been put to rest? That everyone actually welcomed him back with open arms? If so, then you are a very foolish woman," Yeva growled. "If they want to play inquisitor, perhaps I should give them exactly what they demand—the wrath of a real koldun'ya!"
Petrov's eyes widened. "Ms. Belikova—"
"There will be no need for any such thing, grandmother. Guardian Petrov may not be able to intervene, but the Queen certainly can," I said quickly, hoping the thought would be enough to calm my grandmother down. "If need be, we will disclose the kinship she shares with us… surely, that will make her speak up on his behalf."
"You won't have to—Lissa won't let them subject him to anything like that. You didn't see her when she brought him back—she was overly protective of him, like a mother bear with a cub. There's no way she'll risk having him revert into a brooding mess again, take my word for it—especially since it would involve Rose flipping out and taking on the Council herself head-on." Adrian offered.
His words succeeded where mine had failed—some of the tension eased out of Yeva; she took a deep breath, slowly nodding her head in agreement. "Roza has far more influence with the Queen than any claims of kinship we make. She took a bullet for Vasilisa—that kind of debt can never be repaid. It will have some weight in this instance."
A pained look flicked across Alberta's face. "We trained her well… sometimes I think too well for her own good."
"That's why we're here," Emil said, shooting her a sad smile. "To make them the best they can be."
"Yes… but…" She shook her head, looking away. "Don't mind me—I'm just a sentimental old fool at times."
"That's not a bad thing." Emil's eyes flicked to me, his smile fading as he reached into his back pocket, extracting my phone." I'm sorry, Viktoria… it slipped out of my pocket as we rounded that tight curve. I'll replace it, of course—"
"Don't worry about it." I glanced down, hiding my dismay at the sight. The screen of my first—and in all likelihood, only—cellphone had shattered in a cobweb formation, rendering it completely useless. Shoving it in my back pocket, I forced my lips into a reassuring smile. "Abe gave it to me so I could keep in contact with him—I'm sure he has it insured since he's seen how clumsy I can be."
"Well, if it isn't, let me know and I'll—"
"Really, it is alright. Compared to everything that has happened today, a broken phone isn't that big a deal."
He looked like he wanted to argue the point but simply nodded instead—perhaps sensing that pushing the matter would do more harm than good.
I could feel the weight of my grandmother's stare pressing against me, but I didn't want cryptic riddles or vaguely worded statements—I wanted the plain, undisguised truth, which was the one thing I knew she would never give up easily. Certainly, the last thing in the world I needed was a lecture on placing too much importance on silly, materialistic items like cell phones—hearing her berate me about such a thing at that particular moment would surely be enough to break me.
"You'll call me after you discuss things with Mazur?"
I nodded, reaching out to shake Petrov's outstretched hand. "Hopefully, I won't have to sell him a kidney for his assistance in finding out more information."
"I agree… we need you in one piece." Her lips curved up, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll be keeping in touch with Guardian Zykov to monitor your progress, Viktoria. I hope you'll rethink my offer—"
"What offer is this?" Yeva's eyes narrowed, flicking between the guardian and me.
"You've trained her well, Ms. Belikova… I offered her a job as an instructor here at the Academy when she graduates."
"A waste of time—she will not take it. My granddaughter is destined for other things." Readjusting her shawl primly, her eyes darted over to Emil, then back to Petrov. "You are all destined for something greater—when that day comes… we will see you again, but it will not be here, at this Academy."
The faint smile faded from Petrov's lips as she glanced over at Emil—he'd gone completely tense at Yeva's cryptic statement. "What does that mean?"
"She has seen something," Emil murmured, reaching out to take my grandmother's hand. "Will you give me your blessing, látnok?"
My grandmother's face wrinkled up with pleasure as she smiled. "You will die an old man, warm in your bed after spending decades sleeping beside the one who has always held your heart, Guardian Amanar—no blessing I could give is greater than that."
A red flush spread across his cheeks. "Truer words could never be spoken." He kissed her hand, moving to release it, but she clung to his, her eyes dark and bottomless as she caught his gaze.
"Do not let the past dictate your future, child—it is time to put the ghost in your eyes to rest."
"I—"
"He is gone. If he blamed you in any way, he would have lingered in the cave with the girl—his wrath would not grant him the peaceful stillness death offers. His path was complete—he reached the end. You will see him again in the next life… when the great wheel spins around again. When that happens… he will tell you himself the truth of what I say." She patted her cheek with her free hand, whispering something in the old tongue from her youth—finally releasing him. Instantly, her eyes moved to mine.
I stared at her, trying to process the hidden meaning in her words—it was obvious from the pointed look she shot me that I was supposed to easily interpret what she meant… but of course, as usual, I was completely in the dark.
"Tell Rose I said to behave herself," Alberta called after us as we headed up the stairs. "And not to be such a damned stranger—this place isn't the same without her."
"Soon enough, it will be as it was—you will see her every day, Guardian Petrov. Mark and remember my words… I am never wrong." Yeva called back, her lips curving up in a smug little smile.
"Is that a promise or a threat," Adrian muttered under his breath, steering her to her seat.
"It concerns our Roza, so I think perhaps the answer would be a little of both," she countered, flashing a grin as she settled herself and waved him off. "Don't hover. You must take care of your needs, Kotik, but I warn you, do not dally—my patience has been tried far too much today, and there are things Viktoria and I must speak of when you are done."
A faint blush appeared on his pale cheeks. "It's a good thing I'm used to my aunt's bluntness, Yeva—otherwise, I wouldn't be able to handle yours."
"Why mince words when I can feel your gift riding you? You need to feed—whether you do it here or in private is your choice."
"I can wait—"
"You cannot. The longer you put it off, the more frenzied you both will be—this makes it hard to be cautious."
"Grandmother!" My face heated at the implication. "We aren't animals—we do have some control, you know!"
"Oh, do you? I thought the same thing once when I was young. Your grandfather kept putting off a sharing, worried it would leave me weakened at an inopportune time—it was a dreadful mistake. His control broke in a room full of courtiers, and his need immediately affected me. Thank God above that Ekaterina was there and realized what was happening—she ordered everyone out before we did anything that might scandalize our good names. Five seconds after the door closed behind her… we ravaged each other." Yeva chuckled, rooting around in her bag for her yarn. "If you are worried about leaving me alone, then feel free to do it here—I do not care one way or the other children."
"I've taken so much already—"
"There is a special tea that will counter that. It strengthens the blood. It is similar to what Olena gives women who have problems with too much bleeding." Yeva replied, not looking up from her yarn. "When we land at Court and Viktoria goes to train with my grandson, you can help me gather what I need to mix up a batch."
Adrian looked completely dumbfounded by her candor. "You're acting like this is a completely normal thing—"
"Because it is for the two of you. The blood bond is about more than pleasure or sex, it is two parts of a greater whole forming the completion of one. She replaces what you lack. Completes what you are not. Within her is the light needed to chase away your darkness. It is as simple as that. At the same time, you give her relief by removing the buildup of light that accompanies her gift—that is what causes her such great pain. The two of you need each other to achieve one greater purpose…" She glanced up, chuckling softly at the astonished expression on his face. "I am not suggesting the two of you completely yield to each other in front of me, boy—if any clothing starts to come off, rest assured I will smack you with my cane."
His eyes met mine—the heat in my cheeks increased. It was obvious our thoughts were taking the same path—we didn't know how to share without it turning into something more.
"Should I assume by the way you are gawking at each other that you have not yet mastered this art?" She sighed, rolling her eyes up to the heavens. "Clearly, if you retire to the other room, I will not see you again for hours—that is unacceptable. As I said, Viktoria and I have much to discuss before we reach Court."
"Grandmother—"
"Sit down, both of you—consider this a lesson of sorts. What would you do if his element overtook him when you were in the middle of a crowded room at Court? You could not disappear for an extended period—tongues would start to waggle, child."
"We wouldn't necessarily take that long—"
"I see… so you would sneak away to a broom closet and hope your cries of passion would not reach the ears of others? Really, Viktoria," she scoffed, "that is foolish and far too risky."
"You told me that exchanging blood should not be casual," I argued. "You said it should be treated as something more!"
"And it should when the time is appropriate. Spirit will not always allow you such a chance—you saw what happened with the Queen in the shop, yes?"
I looked over at Adrian—he shrugged, clearly as befuddled as me. Sinking down in the seat across from her, I frowned, arching a brow. "Even if we don't… lose control, other people will notice if we both disappear."
"A Guardian's job is to tail their Moroi when they leave a room. There is a distinct difference between disappearing and returning with your hair and clothes mussed, with the scent of your illicit tryst hanging about you and disappearing and returning as intact and presentable as you were the moment you left, Viktoria."
I studied her for a moment, worrying my lower lip with my teeth. "You realize this is a very uncomfortable discussion, yes?"
"For a child, perhaps—not for a reasonable young woman. An adult would realize I am trying to help by sharing what I experienced and the knowledge that came from it—a child would focus on their embarrassment over discussing a basic fact of life."
"Guess I'm not quite as mature as I thought," Adrian muttered, slumping down in his seat.
"Men are never as mature as they believe—there is always a small boy inside them waiting for the chance to break free," she scoffed, her eyes locked on my face. "I'm waiting for an answer, Viktoria."
"You didn't ask a question…"
"Clearly, I did—you chose to ignore it. Which is it? Are you a child… or a woman, prepared to do what needs to be done, setting your embarrassment aside."
I stared at her for a moment, then jerked up my shirt sleeve, extending my arm. "Do you object to him feeding from my wrist? Or will that negate whatever point you are trying to make?"
"Such flippancy to me when I try to help you is a sign of ingratitude. Perhaps you would prefer I hold my tongue? I could always sit back and wait for the need to overcome you right in front of your brother—I am sure Dimitr would be very understanding of such a thing… yes?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her words.
"Vika… I can't—"
"If you bite my neck, we will lose control," I said bluntly, shifting my eyes to meet his. "I would prefer that not happen in front of my grandmother, thank you very much."
"I wasn't complaining," he huffed, grabbing my arm and eyeing my wrist.
"Well, what then?" It came out far more impatient sounding than I'd intended, earning a snort of amusement from Yeva.
"Her testiness is a warning sign—you are cutting it far too close. Her moods will become more mercurial as your need calls to her gift."
"Believe it or not, I'm not used to doing this in front of an audience, "He muttered.
"Preposterous—are there not nurses and aides and attendants when you visit the feeders?" Yeva arched a brow.
"Yeah, but I don't care about the feeder—we're not involved," he said, shooting me an apologetic look. "Your wrist won't work for biting, Angel—sorry, it's too thin."
Pushing my sleeve up past my bicep, his tongue swiped along the bend of my elbow, and then he gently bit down.
I grimaced at the sharp flicker of pain as his fangs pierced my flesh, but it was no more than a momentary discomfort—immediately replaced by the warm, familiar feeling of connection I'd experienced the first time he'd fed.
"Your mind is your own? No haze of euphoria?" Yeva asked, her voice soft as she studied us.
"I don't feel drugged, if that's what you mean," I replied, stroking his hair with my free hand. "I feel… at peace. Content—sort of nurturing, I guess."
I could find no way to describe the rush of emotions flowing through me—I didn't know how to describe the sensations I felt… or the soft, soothing chimes that whispered in the depths of my mind.
"It is a sense of perfect completion—the realization that you are serving the purpose of your existence, granddaughter." She nodded, looking pleased. "I remember the feeling well. The only other time in your life you will experience anything close will be when you nourish your babe at your breast."
"That's it exactly…" I smiled, pleased she understood despite my inability to properly verbalize the experience.
"I am sorry if I embarrassed either of you, Vika, but this sharing will play an important part in your lives. The sooner you learn how to handle it, the easier it will be for both of you."
"I am sorry I was disrespectful to you, grandmother. It is still all so new and strange." I said softly, fingertips tracing along the side of Adrian's neck. "The intensity of the way we feel… it happened all at once. There was none of the slowly learning about each other and growing closer—"
"That is the way with this sort of bonding, Viktoria. There is no need to learn all the trivial things that waste so much time—not when the chimes are in perfect unison. Your souls recognized each other in an instant—their impatience is understandable; they have been waiting for each other from the moment of creation."
"Some would say such things are silly fantasy," I murmured, flashing her a smile.
"They would be fools. Ones who will never experience such perfection."
Adrian sat back, covering the marks he'd made with his palm—healing them away. A moment later, when his eyes met mine, the emotions playing through them took my breath away. "Thank you, Angel."
"And now you have both proven that you can responsibly do what needs to be done without fear of public indecency," Yeva said, chuckling.
His lips twitched. "I don't know about that. Right now, my head is full of all sorts of indecent thoughts."
"Stop that—or else she will launch into a lecture on keeping a pure mind," I said, trying not to giggle at the horrified look he shot me.
"As enjoyable as that sounds… I'm going to take a nap while you two have your talk." He kissed me quickly, then pressed his lips to my grandmother's cheek, earning a fond look in response. "If I'm not awake before we land, nudge me—I don't want to forget to put my ring back on."
Yeva's eyes returned to her knitting; I sat there, impatient for her to speak but knowing better than to prod her. I had a feeling she was biding her time, waiting to see how long it took for the silence to get under my skin. Sighing, I shifted in the seat, allowing my head to drop back—pretending I was going to nap.
"You think perhaps sleep will clear up the problems in your mind? I myself would choose to discuss them…"
I compressed my lips, trying to hide a satisfied smile at how she'd taken the bait. "You said you had something to discuss with me, yet you sit there—"
"Incorrect. I said that you and I had much to discuss. I am waiting for you to begin."
I frowned, my pleasure at besting her short-lived. Perhaps I was the one who had been baited. "Fine. I have a question—"
"Only one? You disappoint me, kotyonok. You must be losing your curiosity in your old age."
I scowled. "I have more than one—I was trying to space them out so you would not get caustic with your answers."
"I am never caustic—I am sharp. There is a distinct difference between the two."
I refrained from rolling my eyes—just barely. "The vision I had of my cousin in his cabin… and of the queen. I understand how I did it… I mean the mechanics of it. But how is it possible?"
"The same way a vision of the future is possible—your guide shows you what you need to see. Certain events… strong emotions… they leave an imprint of sorts, either where a spirit is trapped or in a place where something tragic or unjust has occurred. When you are in the vicinity of such a place, if there is something that needs seeing… it happens."
"The girl… she tried to speak to me in the cave, but I couldn't hear her. You had no problem hearing the queen in the garden, so why—"
"You must open yourself fully and completely, Viktoria—if you do not, their words cannot pierce the veil. They are here, but they are not here—they reside in the realm of Shadow, trapped betwixt this life and the next. For some spirits… it is impossible for them to reach out—only those with an exceptionally strong will can initiate a breach, tearing through the boundary between the worlds so that we can see them. Even then, most lessen and fade over time. It takes great will… great determination for them to linger here."
"Roza saw spirits… lots of them." I remembered her hushed voice describing the ghostly beings that had attacked my brother—the look of worry on her face as she glanced toward the kitchen where Mama and Dimitri sat at the table, afraid he might overhear what we were discussing.
"Roza was shadow-kissed, Viktoria—we are not. She visited the world of Shadow in death but returned to the living. I have not done that and neither have you."
I chewed on my bottom lip, pondering her words. They countered everything I'd been raised to believe. "But… why does this Shadow world exist? I thought when we died, we went to Heaven or Hell—I do not understand."
"It is a type of purgatory, Viktoria. "
"Why would Roza be punished like this? She was still so young—"
"That is precisely why—she died too young. It was not her time… so she lingered. Had Vasilisa not brought her back… she might have been trapped there forever."
"That does not seem fair," I protested. "To leave a young soul in limbo for no fault of their own."
"There is no handbook for these things, Viktoria. No set of rules we automatically know, or instructions that we are given to follow. I know what I was told by my grandmother and she by hers back to the beginning of our line—I do not know more than that. Perhaps someday you will add on to this knowledge, passing on more to your heir than just the wisdom I pass to you." Setting her knitting aside, she rubbed her forehead, looking tired. "You are the reason I searched so hard for answers in Ekaterina's texts and scrolls, kotyonok. I knew someday my heir would follow me and have the same questions I did. I learned as much as I could… but the writings were filled with riddles and prophecies that were at times indecipherable. All I know is that our world is changing, and after all the hard times that are coming… it will be a better place for everyone—but especially for our kind… because we will change too."
I didn't like the sound of that—not one little bit. "These hard times… have you seen them? Had any dreams or visions?"
"Glimpses of things that correspond with the old prophecies. Faint images relating to things that I have read about—no more… no less. Saint Vladimir and Anna shared a vision that was recorded—an image of a mighty Dragon, consumed by its own fire… only to arise stronger, reborn from the ashes to reshape the world. I think… no… I know the dragon is Vasilisa. The fire represents the element dwelling inside her—it will devour her for a time." Her eyes looked feverish… as if she were experiencing the events she described.
"If she loses herself in Spirit, she will lose the throne too—"
"No. She will rule again—more decisively than before. She will not simply be a figurehead, trying to sway the Council… she will rule as a Queen was meant to—and it will turn the Moroi world upside down. When Vasilisa finally steps down, there will be no election. She will name her successor… and in doing so, she will ensure that dhampir rights will never be overlooked again."
"Still… wouldn't it be better if she never lost herself in the first place? For her own well-being, I mean…" I rubbed my temples, mulling over all that she had said—wondering if I should voice the thought that had occurred to me in response. "Grandmother… you say we are different than Roza because we have not died… but I cannot help but wonder what would happen if a seer became shadow-kissed? If we have spirit in our blood… would it and the darkness counter each other out, negating our gift?"
She studied me for a moment, then closed her eyes. Watching the way they moved beneath the closed lids, I knew she was searching deep inside for an answer.
"No. You cannot negate what your body produces and provides naturally. If anything, it would ease the burden of the Shadow bond."
"What if the seer was already bound to another Spirit user by blood?" I asked softly.
Her eyes snapped open. "No. Do not even think it."
"At the café, you said the blood bond couldn't help the Queen… but we know a Shadow bond could—"
"A seer caught between two Spirit users in this manner would be in an unending cycle of despair—unable to fulfill the obligation to both at once. One would always be lacking completion—it would be a constant state of imbalance. As the good book says, no one can serve two masters." Her eyes narrowed, her lips twisting into a scowl. "To be more precise, so you don't misunderstand—in the situation you suggest, your Dusha would be the one to suffer. The Queen would fill you with so much darkness it would overflow, stealing away what dwells within in your blood… what he desperately needs."
"Well, that's certainly not an option. His needs supersede all others."
"That is how it should be. Any kind of bond requires complete commitment on the part of both halves. It would be just as dangerous if your Dusha were to form a Shadow bond with someone other than you—it would weaken his mind horribly to be so out of balance, and in turn, that would affect you. Such a thing would be unnatural, unbalancing what is properly balanced, lessening the perfection of it."
I frowned, still struggling a little with the concept. "But—"
"Imagine two musicians playing a beautiful piece of music, the pair completely in tune. Now add a third that is playing off-key and slightly slower, not at all in tune with the pair. It would warp the beautiful melody, yes? It would no longer sound perfect—the addition would mar the beauty, throwing the whole thing off."
That I could understand. "Then I suppose the simplest solution would be to have Lissa bond with someone else."
"There must be a connection of some sort, granddaughter. With Vasilisa and Roza, there was friendship and sisterly love. There was romantic love between Mark and Oksa. For a shadow bond to work properly, there must be something that ties the parties together, tethering the spirit long enough for the process to be completed. If there isn't, it would always be out of balance, which would do more harm than good in the long run."
"Did you learn these things in the books you studied?" I asked.
"Some of it, but not all. Some is intuition… some is whispered by the ones that guide me." She leaned back in her seat, stretching out her legs with a groan. "None of this is a precise science. I cannot point you to a certain book and say read it—the information is in bits and pieces throughout different texts."
"I often wonder why your gift came to me and not one of my sisters," I mumbled.
"The simple answer would be your soul chimed in time to your Dusha's." she teased. "The more complicated answer would be that I have no idea. I know that it only appears in the ones who are strong enough to carry the weight… but other than that… you might as well ask me why some children are born musical prodigies when their siblings can't carry a tune. Why might someone paint a landscape so beautiful and lifelike that it makes those who view it cry while their sibling can barely draw a stick figure? What we have is a gift, Viktoria, just like those skills, and no matter how much you hate it… it will never go away. It will only get stronger as you age, so you are better off accepting it now! I am sorry you detest it so much. Sorry that the burden passed to you…but there is nothing that can undo it."
I dropped my eyes from hers, staring down at my hands, ignoring the tears that slid down my cheeks in response to her words. "I did hate it before… but now I can't. It enables me to help him… that alone makes up for the hardship."
"Do you truly mean this?"
"I do."
She sighed. "Our gift… it is not so different than the abilities Oksa has or your Dusha. They were not born knowing how to handle these things. They did not just wake up one day with a firm grip on the reins, able to instantly guide the power within them. Like any skill or ability, it requires work and practice. The more they used it, the more they could control it—and as they matured and mastered it, in turn, it grew and strengthened within them. It is the same for you, granddaughter. If you truly accept it… then you must stop fighting against the visions. The more you fight against what is inside of you, the harder it will be—the pain will increase as your gift grows stronger. You must ride it instead of it riding you. If you do this… in time… the things that I can do will pale in comparison to your abilities."
"But at what cost?" I asked softly.
"A wise question—one I think you already know the answer to." She sighed, reaching for my hand. "Do you want the plain, unadorned truth, Viktoria… or should I pretty it up, covering over hardships with insignificant lies?"
"The truth, of course."
"I have shouldered more guilt in my life than you can comprehend. You will see things… things you think you can prevent by warning the people you love, but fate has a funny way of collecting what she thinks is her due. When you try to cheat her by altering things too far from their predestined course, it generally turns out far worse than it would have been had you held your tongue. You must learn to weigh how much can be given and how much must be held back. You must learn that sometimes it is better to give a thinly worded warning to a third party not involved in the vision. You must learn to weave the information you give in a way that does not risk tipping the balance of the scales."
She smiled—a sad sort of half grin that made my heart twist in my chest. "You must master the art of tricksy talk, hiding hints behind ciphers and riddles that will help guide the listener while at the same time not giving the answer away. And you must find the inner strength to build an impenetrable shield to protect yourself from any painful, mocking words that are thrown at you in response to what you say."
I didn't respond for a moment—I couldn't; my emotions had formed a lump in my throat as I processed what she meant. All the times I'd snapped at her for not speaking clearly or had mean, unkind thoughts. All the times my sisters had made snide, teasing comments. The way Roza was flat-out contemptuous, ridiculing her derisively about her vague predictions.
She'd had no choice… she'd been trying to protect us while still attempting to help.
"I am so sorry, grandmother." I launched myself out of my seat, throwing my arms around her small body. "I didn't realize—"
"Babushka knows this," she whispered, stroking my hair. "It is alright, my little kotyonok. My shield against such things is strong, tempered by age. I only mentioned it so you can start constructing your own—your heart is far too gentle and tender without one. Now dry your tears, child… you will drown me if you keep this up."
I pulled away, swiping my cheeks, settling myself at her feet so I could lay my head on her lap. She sighed, combing her fingers through my hair, trying to soothe me. "I was once you, Vika. I hated the sight and all it brought with it for a very long time. I think I hated it most in the days following Anton's death—what use were my gifts if they did not warn me of that, enabling me to protect the other half of my soul?"
My eyes jerked up—the confession startled me. She always seemed so accepting of her fate—to hear otherwise hit me like a blow. "Really? That is the truth? You are not just saying this to appease me?"
"It is. Like you…the visions came to me when I was very young—"
"I would not call being a teenager young," I interjected, frowning.
"Oh kotyonok… you were much younger than you think." Her eyes filled up with something—pity, I think. "I am going to tell you a story—one I have never shared with anyone. Whether or not you choose to retell it is entirely up to you."
She sat back, studying me intently. For a minute, I wondered if she was having second thoughts, but then she finally began to speak.
"Do you remember the day your mother went to deliver the Sterlova twins? It was a dismal, rainy day—in fact, if memory serves me… it had rained the better part of the week."
I shook my head. Mama had delivered so many babies over the years that one name ran into the next.
"Ah… well… I was watching over you that afternoon. When I put you down for your nap, I decided to occupy myself by working on a little hat to match your favorite shawl. It was the prettiest thing you owned, shades of pink with—"
"Tiny little lavender flowers embroidered along the hem." I sat up a little straighter, wondering where she was leading me.
"Yes. You loved that shawl so much… I remember how you cried for days when you outgrew it." She frowned, reaching over to push a strand of hair out of my face. "I'd just tied off the last knot and was in the process of putting my materials away when a vision overcame me—so strong it brought me to my knees. I watched in horror as your brother died—not once but several times. First as a boy… then a teenager… then finally as a man fully grown. You will find that visions are often fickle—they will show you many paths that lead to the same outcome."
"But… were the paths all similar?" The thought of a vision predicting more than one thing was confusing.
"They were… and they weren't. Only his appearance differed—but that is not the point of my story, kotyonok. When the vision released me… before I could even collect my thoughts… you started to scream."
I stared at her, a faint prickle racing through my mind. "Why?"
"Why does any small child scream out in their sleep, Viktoria?"
I frowned. "A nightmare?"
She nodded. "You were screaming for Dimitri. You were screaming out that your brother was dying."
In an instant, I was back in the cave—trapped in the darkness with an overpowering sense of dread. She was wrong… she had to be. "No… you are mistaken."
"I am not. You saw the same thing I did, Viktoria—however, you did not see three deaths. You only saw one—the one that came to be."
I wrapped my arms around my legs, pulling them close to my chest—burying my face in the hollow I'd created there. I wanted to continue denying it—to beg her to say it was a joke… but deep down, I knew it wasn't.
"From that moment on, whenever you had a nightmare… I paid attention. And when you laughed and giggled in an empty room, chatting away with someone no one else could see… someone hidden from even me… I knew you were not alone."
My blood was like Ice in my veins—the sort of cold that often comes with a fever that chills you to the bone. "What are you saying?"
"You have always been open to things, Viktoria. Sometimes, you saw ghosts, like me—and I would catch a glimpse of them at the same time. Other times, I was just as blind as your mother and sisters, wondering who you whispered to. It was like that right up until the day your father almost killed you," she said softly. "After that night… I don't know what happened… but for some reason, what he did affected you greatly. It was as if your gift had vanished without a trace."
As I struggled against the swirling confusion in my mind, she reached down, stroking my hair again—perhaps thinking that, like my namesake, I could be coaxed into a better mood simply by a kind touch.
"The gift grows stronger with each new seer, Vika. It is stronger in me than it was in my babushka, and hers was stronger than her grandmother's. Yours has already surpassed mine—and your granddaughters will be stronger still. Each generation adds to the mix. You will experience things I did not… things I have no answer for. It will be the same with your granddaughter—"
"You are assuming I will bear children by a Spirit user… that might not be the case—"
"You will. I have seen it." She said smugly. "Sooner rather than later if you do not stop losing control."
My cheeks heated—there was nothing quite like acute embarrassment to chase away even the darkest thoughts. "Hush—you should not say such things."
"Afraid our Kotik will hear me? I should think he would be pleased to know that your firstborn will be a strong son with his father's beautiful eyes."
"Grandmother! Please—"
"Alright… I will stop teasing you. But I did see it," she whispered. "The hair will confuse you at first, but it is the exact same color as my Anton's."
I groaned. "Stop talking. I beg of you. You will scare Dusha away before—"
"Eavesdropping is very rude. You might as well come out and join us, Kotik… I can hear your breath against the door." Yeva shot a pointed look towards the back of the plane.
If I could have had one wish at that moment, it would have been for the floor of the plane to swallow me up—even if it meant falling out the other side and hurtling far, far down to my death.
The narrow door to the bedroom opened. "I didn't want to interrupt... but I got bored. I couldn't sleep."
"Come… join us. I have just been teasing our curious little kitten." Yeva's eyes flicked from him to me, a small smile playing about her lips. "Did our conversation entertain you?"
"It was… interesting." He sank down in the seat I'd recently vacated, staring at Yeva with a confused look, then reached over to snag his duffle bag, rooting around in it and producing a sketchpad.
"Moy Dusha… are you ok?" I watched him, wondering if he'd been put off by my grandmother's teasing.
"I'm fine… I just need to sketch something out before I forget it again." He stared down at the pad with a look of intense concentration on his face. "It's a place. One I thought was in my imagination… but I'm starting to wonder if it might have been like a Spirit dream. Only… a different kind than what I do now."
I didn't try to hide my confusion. "I just assumed there was only the one kind…"
"I thought so too… but maybe I was wrong." The pencil flew across the paper as he talked—he flipped the page, starting over again, the movement of his hand almost frenzied. "Remember how I told you sometimes I get glimpses of things?"
"Yes… what about it?"
"When I was a kid, I dreamed about a place. One I'd never been to. It's where my imaginary friend lived."
I frowned, wondering if his mind was wandering—worried that perhaps he hadn't taken nearly as much from me as I needed. "You think this was … glimpse of something?"
"Mhmm. Back then, I spent most of my time with my aunt—my parents didn't have patience for me. Tati was pretty religious in her own way… always wanting to do charitable things. She used to take me to church with her, but when I got older, I stopped going. If I thought about God at all, it was to blame him for making me lose my mind." He frowned, studying the sketch, erasing something, and then resumed drawing. "But when I was a kid, Tati was always doing things to make sure I believed."
I glanced up at Yeva, wondering if she sensed something I might be missing, but she looked absolutely enchanted by what he was saying. "Moy Dusha… are you sure you feel—"
He ignored me completely. "Tati was always playing along with me when I talked about my imaginary friend. I told her about how cold it was there… how my friend was always shivering and rocking back and forth to keep warm. I griped about it so much and threw such a big fit that Tati finally promised she would make something special to keep my little friend warm. And when I asked how we would get it there… to this place in my head… she said that if I prayed about it hard enough… that God would find a way to make sure it was delivered exactly where it needed to be."
He dropped the pencil, closing his eyes. My concern tripled at how fast he was breathing. "Adrian… I think you need to feed a bit more."
"I said I was fine, Vika." His eyes flicked over to me, then moved on to Yeva. "That was one of the lessons Tati was always trying to teach me. If I acted like a brat wanting a new toy or game… she'd tell me that God always delivers exactly what we need at precisely the right moment—even if it means waiting a little while. Even if we don't even realize we need something, He knows. Then, a day or so later, whatever it was I'd been asking for would appear like magic. Her way of hammering home the lesson, you might say."
I pushed myself up, prepared to resort to tricking him if that's what it took to help him. "What does this all have to do with Spirit dreams, moy Dusha?
"Does this look familiar to you at all?" He flipped back to the first drawing, turning it around so we could see it.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the landscape. "It looks like the meadow behind our home in Baia."
He nodded. "Yeva… the shawl you mentioned. Did you make it?"
"No, I did not." She smiled—and something about that smile made me feel like she knew exactly where his questions were leading. "Why do you ask?"
"Where did it come from?"
"Many years ago, when Christmas drew near, the church in our village would hand out a present to each of the children from Father Frost. It happened in all of the dhampir settlements. It was something of a tradition. One year, my granddaughter received a shawl. Her sisters were quite jealous because they only received scarves."
Without a word, he flipped to the second sketch—it was a perfect depiction of the shawl I'd loved so much as a child. "That's it… but… how?"
"Tati made it. It was the only thing she ever made that wasn't a hat or a scarf." His voice was low and husky as he dropped the sketchpad, reaching for my hand. "It's what she made for the little girl I dreamed about, Angel. The one who was always so sad… crying in that meadow."
I tore my eyes away from him, glancing at my grandmother. "Did you know this?"
She didn't respond—she simply stared back at me with a bemused smile on her face.
"From the minute we met, there have been so many coincidences. Too many for it to be some kind of random chance. All of it… it proves Tati was right all along." His fingers dug into my shoulders as he pulled me close, his lips claiming mine in a hungry, almost desperate kiss that stole my breath away. I melted against him—a small noise of protest escaping me when he pulled away. "Don't you see, Angel? God delivered exactly what I needed… exactly what I wanted for such a long time. Even when I forgot about those dreams… he didn't."
"What are you saying?" I asked, needing to hear him say it aloud—afraid of being disappointed if I assumed too much.
"He delivered you, Viktoria. The girl from my dreams."
My lips twitched up in a smile at the words, though they weren't quite the ones I'd been waiting for. Still, I could understand the emotions behind his declaration, and I knew it meant that soon…those words I longed to hear would come. "As long as you are sure they were good dreams and not nightmares…" I teased softly, pressing a kiss against his cheek.
The sound of Yeva's chuckle drew my attention—I glanced over at her, feigning a scowl. "What could possibly be so amusing that you would ruin such a perfect moment, grandmother?"
"Once again… I am proven right." Her lips curved up in an arrogant smirk. "It would seem that my simple answer about your gift was far more correct than I thought, kotyonok—and that things just got far, far more interesting, don't you think?"
"I do… but I get the feeling there is something you aren't telling us," The hair prickled at the back of my neck as her eyes met mine.
"What's so significant about the meadow?" Adrian asked, his eyes darting between us.
"It is where we hid when my father came to visit—"
"There is much more to it than that, Vika." Yeva's dark eyes bored into mine. "The ground of the meadow is seasoned with the blood of my grandmother, Aleksandra. She died there… she is buried beneath the large spruce tree at the north end of the clearing."
Her words made my heart thud faster in my chest. "Why didn't you tell us this? We wouldn't have played there—"
"That is exactly why—it would have spoiled the one peaceful place you had to escape to. It is a sad memory for me, Viktoria—my grandmother made me the woman I am. Losing her was a blow that was hard to recover from."
"Uh, when you say her blood seasoned it," Adrian asked hesitantly, "you don't mean that literally, right?"
"I mean what I said—a group of Strigoi had entered the settlement from the forest to the north, the one that backs up our family property. Aleksandra was in the forest gathering motherwort for Olena. Her pains had begun, and she could not calm herself—Dimitr's birth was very difficult for her, and she had several losses before you were conceived, Viktoria. She was afraid she would lose you, so we needed to make a draught to calm her. I told Aleksandra I would gather what we needed, but she was insistent—I have often wondered if…" She paused, then shook her head. "No… I cannot say much more. It dances too close to the line."
"The Strigoi killed her?" I asked softly.
"She was a large, strong woman, even at her advanced age. She killed several of them but was injured. That is all I can say, Viktoria."
"I understand why you must hold your tongue, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. How can I learn about the past if everything is kept secret, grandmother? How are we supposed to put together the puzzle if half the pieces are missing?"
She sighed deeply, her brow crinkling, and then closed her eyes, mumbling softly under her breath. I sensed she was asking for guidance from above and added a prayer of my own, asking for a little help solving all the riddles.
"Two things I can say." Her eyes opened, flicking between Adrian and me. "But first… a question. How old were you when you started dreaming of this place?"
"Oh man… I don't know—I was really little." His face scrunched up as he chewed at his bottom lip. "My father was never home… I think it was around the time Tatiana sent him to Romania to handle some family issues. So… maybe three or four?"
"Was the small girl in those dreams?"
"No, that was much later… why?"
"I wondered, perhaps, if the dreams corresponded with Aleksandra's death. She was always focused on the oldest prophecies, and she taught me the ways of Moroi magic… things that I intend to teach you, Kotik. Perhaps in her final moments, she put that knowledge to use."
"Does that count towards the two things you can say?" I asked.
"It is one of them. Remember, kotyonok, it has been rephrased to ensure I do not disclose too much."
I nodded. "And the second thing?"
"When I was thirteen years old, my grandmother told me that my heir must be named after the seer who…" she grimaced, pursing her lips together. "She said that my heir must have a certain name and made me promise that it would happen. The last thing she did before going out into the forest that night was to remind me of that very thing—a few hours later, I fulfilled that promise."
"You named me?" I asked, surprised.
"Your mother wanted to name you after me… I refused this. One day, you will give my name to your heir." She held out her hand to me—I pulled away from Adrian, moving over to her side. "I supposed you could say that you were named for and by Aleksandra. She never told me a middle name, so I gave you hers. Both names are powerful ones, kotyonok—and so were the women that carried them."
"I hope I can live up to… " My words trailed off into a pain-filled groan as the Gift roared through me—so strong that it buckled my knees. I hit the ground with the vision overriding the world around me, the hard floor beneath me replaced with the loamy smell of earth and the softness of grass. The plane vanished, replaced with the Spruce trees and seaberry bushes that surrounded the meadow—the air heavily scented with the fragrance of the wild roses that grew in abundance along the forest floor.
In an instant, I knew that if I was back in Baia… I'd fallen back through time to the night of my birth.