Dear Diary,

Adrian's reaction to my announcement only made me admire him more; I think most men would have instantly balked at the balked at the idea or insisted that seeing ghosts was impossible, but he didn't hesitate to believe me. He accepted it completely, without question—heading for the garden as soon as the words left my lips. Together we sat side by side on the small stone bench, watching my grandmother pace around the garden, mumbling things under her breath that neither of us understood. He smoked quite a bit, lighting another cigarette as soon as the one he was puffing on burned down—but I could not blame him. After the horrendous scene with Roza, even I needed something to calm my nerves, so I did not begrudge him his vice.

I shifted on the hard, stone bench, in an attempt to return the feeling to my rear; It had been almost two hours and Yeva showed no sign of finding whatever it was she sought. I was beginning to wonder if I should suggest we leave and try another day, because despite her repeatedly insisting she was fine, I could tell she was tiring.

"If it's bothering you I can put it out." At my questioning look, Adrian held up the cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke that he tried to blow away from me.

"It's fine."

"You moved away from me… I thought maybe it bugged you. Rose and Lissa always gave me a hard time about smoking... back when we were all friends."

I smiled at him, reaching over and taking his cigarette; his eyes widened as I inhaled deeply, blowing a perfect ring of smoke as I returned it to his hand. "It doesn't bother me, Dusha."

"You smoke?"

"No… but I used to. A couple of years ago I got hooked, trying to fit in some Moroi at school. My mama caught me hanging out my bedroom window sneaking a cigarette when I was home on break and she didn't order me to quit, but she hounded me about the habit." I shrugged, swiping my tongue across my lips; they tasted faintly of the spicy cloves used in his cigarettes. "Her harping just stressed me out, which made me smoke even more. So while I may be concerned about you doing it… I promise I will never gripe at you about it. I know from experience that doesn't work—and after hearing what Yeva said… I think quitting might do you more harm than good."

He tilted his head, studying me for so long that I felt myself flush. "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm trying to figure out if you're real… or if this is all a dream," he said, voice soft.

"If I was a dream I don't think my ass would be numb from sitting on this stupid bench," I muttered, glancing over at him from the corner of my eye, "and I assure you it is almost completely numb."

"There's no way you're this perfect. There's got to be some hidden flaw I'm not seeing." He bent over and ground out his cigarette on the base of the bench, setting the butt with the others that were in a tidy pile beside him; I was planning on scooping them up when we left, not wanting to leave a mess.

"I have a lot of flaws. I have a temper… I often jump to conclusions without thinking things through… I can be lazy… I'm messy." I counted the things off on my fingers, smiling all the while. "I hold grudges and have a hard time letting go of resentment. Of course if you meant physical flaws… I've got a lot of those too. My hair… my nose… my gigantic feet…"

"There's nothing wrong with your hair or your nose… and your feet aren't big."

I rolled my eyes, waving off what he'd said. "You don't have to live with them… I do." I scooted closer to him; automatically his arm slid around me and my head dropped to his shoulder. "I moved away because my rear end really is sore… not because of the smoke. I was trying to get more comfortable."

"We could try sitting on the grass again."

"And risk another lecture about being in the way? I think I prefer an aching ass to that, thanks just the same."

When we'd arrived we had automatically settled ourselves on the grass, courteously leaving the bench for Yeva to claim—but instead of thanking us, she'd thrown a hissy fit, insisting we were 'blocking her way'.

"I wonder what the problem is," he said softly, his eyes following my grandmother as she paced. "You'd think if she got some sign to come here… something would happen."

"I don't know. To the best of my knowledge, she's never communicated with a ghost before." I wrapped my arms around myself, trying not to shiver. I wasn't cold, just frightened by the thought of talking to the dead.

"What did she mean when she said that stuff about leaving your shoes on?" His eyes fell to my sneakered feet, his lips twitching up in a smile when I tucked them beneath the bench in an attempt to hide them from his view.

"When I was here the other day I was wearing a pair of Roza's boots—they were too small… and my feet were hurting… so I took them off. Apparently… it offended her."

He tightened his arm around me, laughing—but it sounded almost hollow. Tilting my head, I looked up at him, not surprised to see a hint of sadness on his face. "That sounds like her—she was a stickler for manners and propriety. Except where I was concerned. She let me get away with things other people couldn't"

"You miss her a lot, don't you?"

"Every single day. She's the only member of my family that ever showed me any real affection. My mother tried… but she's not really the maternal type. Aunt Tatiana may have been a hard ass with everyone else… but when it was just the two of us… she was a completely different person."

"I'm sorry that you lost her. I know how it feels to lose someone you love." I closed my eyes, remembering the sharp pain that had pierced my chest when Roza had told us my brother had been turned. But I got him back—that wouldn't happen for Adrian.

"Thanks. I think people forget that she wasn't just a queen… you know? That she had a family that loved her and mourn her. Or should, at least—it pisses me off that I'm the only one that seems care she's gone. None of them ever come here—it's not public enough. Sure they go to her grave and make a big production out of it—but it's all fake… just for appearance sake."

"That's not right." I frowned, unable to imagine using the death of one of my family in such a manner. "But Dusha… think of it this way—at least she has you… someone that genuinely loves her for the woman she was and not as just the queen. You made this beautiful place to honor her memory… and though I didn't know her… I bet she appreciates it."

His fingers traced along the skin of my arm, a soothing gesture—for both of us, I think. "Why did you put flowers in her vase?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do. The others were all dried up… I don't know… it just didn't seem right to leave them there… and I didn't want to leave it empty either." I glanced up at the statue, thinking about what had happened. "Plus… as stupid as it sounds… when I took my shoes off… I felt like she was glaring at me. I think maybe subconsciously I was trying to appease her."

"It's not stupid… if her ghost is hanging around, she was probably right there, having a fit. Maybe you got… I don't know what to call it… like a sense of her, even though you didn't see her."

"Mhmmm. Could be." I glanced down at my palm, rubbing my finger against the tender flesh around the gash the thorn had made. "I wonder…"

"Wonder what?" He prodded when my voice trailed off. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing… it's not important."

"Lie. You're aura just shifted… there's a sort of light greyish green in it that wasn't there before. You're freaking out about something… the way you did when your grandmother mentioned your bare feet earlier."

I huffed, irritated that I couldn't hide my growing anxiety from him. "That's not fair—it's like you're peeking into my head or something."

"Trust me… if I could turn it off, I would. Whiskey helps, but lately I've been having to drink more and more before the colors even dim, much less completely disappear." His eyes dropped down my hand; he frowned, his arm sliding away as his hand stilled the nervous movement of my finger, replacing it with his own. "What happened?"

It's what I was wondering about… when I decided to pick some flowers for her… I didn't want to pick the lilies—partly because I'm religious… and because I didn't want to touch them bare handed. But I'm wondering if maybe it wasn't her… influencing me—because when I went to pick the roses… I just got a weird feeling. Like something was warning me off… you know? I thought it was my sight… but maybe… it was her. I ignored it and a thorn cut me… it went in pretty deep."

His brow wrinkled, his other hand sliding over my injured one, so it was held between his palms like a bookmark between two pages. The rush of electric warmth surged through me as he pulled on Spirit. "I'm sorry… that's my fault. I shouldn't have—"

My grandmother made a loud exclamation; we both jerked, surprised, turning to look at her. She was staring into the corner waving her hands in irritation. As we watched, she moved closer to the hedge, whispering so low that we couldn't hear what she said.

"Do you think… she's here?" There was so much hope in his voice that it made me want to cry for him—and it made me feel guilty too; from the moment I'd realized Yeva had seen the ghost, I'd been worried about myself—fretting that I might eventually see them—when I should have thought about what it might mean for him. If Yeva could talk to the Queen, he'd get a chance to say goodbye—even if it was by proxy; he would be able to have some closure, and maybe the scars her murder had left inside him would finally be able to heal. I was a little startled to realize something else as well—as terrified as I still was at the thought of seeing the dead… if it could give him a modicum of peace… I would gladly bear the burden.

"I hope so… for your sake." It came out a whisper—but he didn't seem to hear; he was staring at my grandmother—or rather, the air around her—with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Her aura… Jesus. I didn't think to look at it before. It's… amazing." He dropped my hand, slowly rising from the bench, moving closer to where Yeva stood. She glanced back over her shoulder as he neared, chuckling softly before turning back to the hedge—and then, without the slightest hint or warning, a vision slammed into my head.

Or rather… a memory—that wasn't mine.

I was struggling with a someone… a woman… trying to fight her off—but she was younger and stronger. I was determined—but so was she—and slowly, my strength began to fail. The grip of my hands slipped on her arms—only an inch or two, no more—but it was enough to give her the advantage she needed. Pain like I've never felt before exploded from the middle of my chest—an agony that didn't fade, even as death slowly pulled me into its dark embrace. There was nothing but blackness and overpowering sense of loneliness, accompanied by a piercing, anguished sound that was as unceasing as the pain.

The sharp crack of Yeva's palm against my cheek pulled me out of my stupor; the sound I'd been hearing had been my own screams—so loud and long they'd left my throat aching. I stared up at them from the ground, dazed and confused, trying to regain myself and shove aside the horrific images that echoed in my head; Yeva stared back at me, her face void of expression—and Adrian… Adrian looked completely terrified. His pupils were so large that I could barely see the brilliant green of his eyes.

A trail of warm wetness slid down my face, temporarily blinding me, but I was still too shaken to lift my hand and wipe it away. Then the pain hit, exploding through my skull, so strong it stole my breath from my lungs. I moaned, rolling over onto my side as a wave of intense nausea hit me, making me feel weak and sick as I fought against the urge to throw up. One of them pressed something against my forehead, and though I wanted to tell them not to touch me, I couldn't; the pain made speech impossible. Then suddenly, like magic… it was gone.

I laid there for a minute, not moving—waiting for the pain to rebound back on me, but it didn't. It was gone—and he nausea had vanished too, along with the weakness. Shifting, I swiped at my eyes, trying to clear my vision; When I could see again, my hand was covered in a smear of red…I was bleeding. Ignoring Adrian's murmur of protest, I sat up, my eyes darting between them before returning to my hand.

"What… happened?"

"You hit your head when you collapsed. Hard. On the base of the statue." His voice was distant and hollow sounding; he wouldn't meet my eyes.

Glancing over at the statue, I winced—the corner of the marble pedestal had a splash of blood coating it; my little accident would have left me with an ugly scar—or worse— if he hadn't been there to heal me. "Thank you… for healing—"

"This will never do—you cannot wander around Court with all that blood on your face. They will think we are under attack." Yeva cut in, swiping at my face with her shawl.

"Give me your necklace… I'll… help." Adrian held out his hand, but I hesitated when I saw how he was trembling. "All she's doing is smearing it around. Hopefully your… whatever it is you have… won't cancel out a charm."

I slid it off, dropping it in his palm. My hands were shaking almost as much as his were, but he didn't notice. Unfortunately… Yeva did.

"Tell me what you saw."

"No—I can't." My eyes darted over to Adrian then back to her, telegraphing a warning; I would not describe his Aunt's final moments in front of him—he didn't need those images tormenting him the same way they would haunt me. Sensing she was about to argue, I amended my statement in Russian. "Later. I will tell you later, Grandmother."

"Fine… later. If it doesn't fade first." She frowned, glancing around the garden. "The Queen has gone… she is done with me for the day. We should go too—before we are missed and someone comes looking for us."

Adrian slid the necklace around my neck, brushing my hair to the side so he could fasten it. "What did she say? I wanted to talk to her but—"

"Many things—but now is not the time to discuss them." Yeva gave him a look that clearly broadcast that the subject was closed, however, when his face fell, her own stoic expression softened—just a bit. "She did say she loves you very, very much… and she loves this place you created for her."

"I wanted to do more…" he mumbled, standing up and looking around. "I wanted her to know that she was loved."

"She knows child. Now—be a gentleman and help an old woman to her feet. Age is not a friend, it brings aching joints and creaking bones."

He bent, helping her to her feet; I could tell by his movements that he handled her gently, as if she were some priceless treasure that might shatter if handled roughly. He did the same with me, but when we began walking and I reached down to take his hand, he moved away, standing on Yeva's other side. My eyes dropped to the ground as I tried to hide my surprise; I tried to tell myself that he had not seen my outstretched hand… but deep down…I knew that he did.

We were silent as we crossed court, not a one of us speaking. Each of us were lost in our own thoughts, and for a moment I was glad that the horrible scene with the queen still lingered in my mind; it was so vivid and potent that it dominated my thoughts, preventing me from speculating on why Adrian had pulled away. I wanted to drown out the dark seed of doubt that had sprouted deep inside me—trying to ignore the echoing sound of my brothers warning that kept circling through my mind. After dropping Yeva at her room, I automatically headed to mine, assuming he would follow; he did, but he stopped and lingered in the doorway when I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Are you going to be okay alone? Are you sure you don't want to stay with your grandmother?"

I turned, letting my confusion show. "You… don't want to come in?"

"I have some stuff I need to take care of before it gets too late." He smiled, but it seemed… almost forced.

I didn't question him or try to convince him to stay, though I desperately wanted to. "Oh… okay then." I tried to smile, not wanting him to see how hurt I was feeling inside. "Thank you for coming along with me… I'm sorry about the thing with Yeva. Her being stubborn, I mean."

"No worries—maybe she'll ease up and tell us what was going on in a day or two."

Throughout the day I had been completely comfortable in his presence; it had been natural and easy, like we'd known each other for years—but something had changed, erasing that feeling as if it had never been there at all. As we stood there—me nervously toying with the hem of my shirt while ne shifted from one foot to the other—the companionable sensation vanished completely. We were two complete strangers, uneasy around each other and unsure what to do about it.

"Well… I'll talk to you later… or something." He glanced towards the elevator, then looked back at me, his expression completely unreadable.

I nodded my head, trying to fight back the massive rush of emotions that were swamping me—primarily dejection and sadness—my heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. "Okay. Um… bye."

He stood there for a few heartbeats more, then turned and walked away; I hurried inside, quietly shutting the door behind me—though the urge to slam it was great. As soon as it shut, I collapsed back against it, completely shattered—watching him walk away from me had actually hurt, as foolish as it sounds. Staring out at my empty suite, I was at a complete loss; it was an unsettling feeling—like I'd left something undone that desperately needed finishing, but I didn't know where to begin.

Don't get me wrong—I was not so naive as to think that just because I'd slept with him we were a couple, or that we should be joined at the hip every minute of the day. I logically knew that the attachment I felt for him had happened unnaturally fast, and that there was no possible way he reciprocated those feelings—after all, I might have been dreaming about him for years, but he had only known of my existence for a single night. What confused me was how all at once he'd shut down, completely pulling away after being so open to me all day. It was like some switch had been flipped and he'd retreated into himself—and I couldn't figure out why.

And then… it hit me. He'd seen me have a vision—and started pulling away.

Sighing, I dropped my keys on the table and wandered over to the fridge; the last thing I wanted to do was eat—in fact, the thought turned my stomach. I wasn't hungry but I knew I needed food or else the headache might return. With all the turmoil that we'd had at the café… I'd never even got a chance to order, much less eat—though that was probably a very good thing. If I'd had a plate of food in front of me during Roza's bitchy display, she would have ended up wearing it.

After a I forced down a sandwich that tasted like cardboard and made my stomach knot up, I showered. As I lathered up and rinsed off, and the perfumed fragrance of the soap replaced Adrian's musky scent on my skin, it made me wish I had waited a little longer to get clean. I honestly didn't know when or if I'd see him again, and watching the foam circling the drain, I realized that all I had left of the night we'd shared were the memories inside my head—and in time, even those would fade away like the bubbles. I wrapped myself in one of the thick, terry cloth robes that had come with the suite, and I stretched out on my bed, staring up at the ceiling—desperately trying to reason out the odd thoughts echoing in my head. The problem was… logic and reason are no match for emotions, and mine were churning, getting stronger and stronger with every minute that passed—and though I tried to squash the dark thoughts that kept heaving to the surface… they refused to go away. Instead, they kept tolling over and over again, like the peal of an ancient church bell that refused to be silenced—giving strength to those tiny seeds of doubt I'd tried to shove away.

Had Dimitri and Roza been right about everything? Had I just been pawn in some twisted game—like the one Rolan had tried to play?

My head was saying one thing, but my heart refused to agree; it was determined to believe the best, trying to drown out logic with hope; back and forth again and again, I surged from one emotion to the next, finally pulling my pillow over my face and groaning at my stupidity. I'd actually been foolish enough to believe I could have a normal life—but deep down I had always known that eventually he'd realize what a freak I was; it had been stupid for me to hope that he'd be able to overlook the vision thing.

I laid there for hours, alternating between cursing God for giving me the sight and begging him to take it away—pleading with him to let me live a normal life, one unhampered by visions… but I knew it was all in vain. For whatever reason, I was cursed—and it wasn't going to go away, no matter how fervently I prayed.

The phone on my nightstand rang while I was berating myself; I reached over and answered it automatically without thinking. "Yes?"

"Viktoria… you need to come up here right now. I want to talk about what happened at lunch." I tried to muffle my groan with the pillow—but failed miserably. "Don't you groan at me Viktoria Aleksandra—I said get up here now!"

"Mama—I am completely exhausted and in bed. I was almost asleep. Can't it wait until tomorrow? Please?"

"No it cannot wait. Get dressed—I expect you here in ten minutes or less young lady." Her firm, no nonsense tone was one I'd rarely heard; my mother was always easy going and slow to anger—in truth, she usually allowed my grandmother to handle our discipline, so her forcefulness left me stunned.

"Yes ma'am. I am getting up now. I will be there as soon as I can." I hung up, glaring at the phone, mentally cursing myself for even answering it; I wasn't in the right frame of mind to be lectured about rude behavior or to debate the things Roza had said. A part of me wished I'd simply stood my ground and refused to go—but I knew that was something I could never, ever do; I'd been raised to honor my mother and my grandmother, and it was something so deeply ingrained in me that it would probably never fade.

I dressed in a rush, throwing on a pair of sweats and flip flops, piling my still damp hair up and securing it with a clip as I jogged up the stairs to her suite. Though when I got there I immediately wished that I had used the ten minutes she had given me to take more care with my appearance—or at least stopped to put on a proper pair of shoes.

Abe Mazur sat on the couch with Adrian at his side. He looked up as I walked in and our gazes immediately locked; for moment, I was so distracted that I completely forgot about everyone else in the room. I got lost in the depths of his beautiful, soulful eyes—remembering the way they'd looked when he'd hovered over me in his bed.

Abe's low chuckle pulled me out of my stupor; my gaze dropped to the floor as heat flamed in my cheeks. 'Do you see what I mean, Olena? Surely you remember what it was like?'

My mother completely ignored him, her eyes fixed on my face. "Greet our guests Viktoria—I raised you to have manners."

"Mr. Mazur… Guardian Johnson… it is a pleasure to see you both again." I nodded my head respectfully, opening my mouth to ask what this was about, but Mama cut me off before I could speak.

"Don't you mean… Lord Ivashkov?"

I froze, my eyes darting to Adrian's hands; they'd been clasped between his knees, hidden from my view—so I'd just assumed he was wearing his ring. "I… uh…" Stuttering, I sank down in a chair, racking my brain for an excuse—but none came. Frustrated, I mumbled in Russian under my breath.. "Dermo."

"Language!" Her voice was stern and full of anger, making me inwardly flinch.

"I told her the truth. I didn't want to lie to her and sneak around behind her back, Vika. I didn't want to be the kind of man Rose described."

I looked over at him, tears prickling my eyes, wondering if this was his way of getting rid of me; my mother would tell my brother and I'd be treated like a prisoner—leaving him free to move on without having to worry about me bothering him again. "You could have just told me—"

"I have heard Lord Ivashkov's reason for the deception today, Viktoria… I am waiting to hear yours."

"I'm sorry Mama… I just wanted to spend some time with him."

"That is no reason to be dishonest with your family! To lie to me and your grandmother—making us into fools!"

"You saw Dimitri last night! What do you think he would have done if I'd—"

"Don't you dare try and put off your lying on your brother! He was out of line—but you should have come to me to discuss this! I am two seconds away from cutting this trip short and sending you back to school! Never in my life did I imagine you would—"

"Daughter!" Yeva used her cane to rock to her feet, waving off Adrian's attempt to help her rise from the couch. "She did not lie to me—I knew what she was doing and supported her actions."

I glanced up in surprise. True, she had seen through the illusion—and I had suspected she would—but she was implying that I had discussed it with her in advance and acted with her blessing. "Grandmother—"

"I gave her the ring he wore on his finger—it is the very same ring that once graced your own father's hand… and before I placed it on his hand, my own grandfather wore it. If that is not proof that I believe this is right then I do not know what is!"

"Mama…" My mother's eyes darted between us, her brow wrinkling, "what are you—"

Yeva switched to Russian, not waiting for her to finish. "I have seen things… things that must come to pass Olena. This is one of them. If you wish to hold Dimitri and Roza's children in your arms… you must not interfere."

Abe's head jerked up, his look of bored indifference fading as his dark eyes fastened on my grandmother. My mother looked over at him, frowning at his sudden interest. "Don't be ridiculous Mama, what does—"

"Twin flames daughter… two brighter than one alone." Yeva's voice sounded far away and vacant—and though I couldn't see her eyes, I knew that the spaced out look she sometimes got was glazing over her eyes. "Flames that are also moths— the light they cast drawing them together." She shook her head, groaning—immediately Adrian stood, moving to help her sit down, as if he could sense she needed the assistance. She patted his hand, her eyes locking with his—even as she continued to speak to my mother in our native tongue.

"There is much you do not know Olena… and I can not tell you. Some of it… it is not my place to discuss. But this I will say—and you would do best to heed it. Viktoria is an adult… and in this she must be treated as such."

"What you have said here is truth—you swear it before Allah?" Abe's Russian was as flawless as mine, as if it were his native tongue—and he was staring at my grandmother as if she were holding the Holy Grail—but she didn't look at him; her eyes were still locked on Adrian.

Yeva nodded slowly, not turning her head. "I will swear it before Allah or Yahweh or whatever name you chose—it is the truth. May I be struck dead and sent straight to hell if I lie."

Adrian shot me a quizzical look, but all I could do was shrug. Just because I understood the language they were speaking didn't mean I could make sense of what they said.

My mother's eyes dropped to the ground as she rubbed her hand across her face; I couldn't remember ever seeing her looking tired and worn—not even on the day we'd found out about Mitya had she seemed so drained. "I do not want to lie to my son… it disgraces everything I stand for, Mama."

"Then leave it to those of us who understand that sometimes a lie is necessary to protect the greater truth, daughter. I tell you this with certainty… if you side with Dimka on this,,, without giving Viktoria a chance to spread her wings and fly… it will make a rift between you that will never heal. That in part is why I held my tongue for so long about the choice you made—you needed to grow and make decisions on your own, be they good or bad. I knew what you were trying to achieve… though it did not work in the end. Trust me… it will work for her, Olena. I promise you."

Mama fell silent, her eyes shifting to mine. She studied me for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh. "Your grandmother is right… but it is hard to let go. You are my baby, and always will be. But I see that it is time for me to let you stand on your own. However you must remember this, Vika… with a Moroi… you must be careful… be safe. You cannot let yourself get swept up in the moment the way Sonya did. Be like Karo… make wise decisions."

"Same thing I told her last night—more or less." Abe's soft laughter made my cheeks turn bright red as I thought about the condom he'd given me—still unopened on Adrian's nightstand.

"Not to interrupt… but I'm having a little trouble breeching the language barrier here," Adrian interjected, flashing a smile.

"Which is exactly why I switched to Russian," Yeva shot back, giving him a pointed look.

"You are not taking into consideration one very important thing," I snapped—in Russian—trying to ignore him. "You are both acting as though he wants to be with me. We only just met. This entire discussion is—"

"If he didn't want to be with you… he wouldn't be here Vika," Mama cut in, her voice gentle. "Why would he go to all the trouble of clearing the air between us… why would he care what I thought… if he wasn't thinking further than today?"

I shrugged, dropping my eyes to the carpet; I didn't have an answer to that question—but I knew one thing for certain; his earlier actions had not been those of someone who wanted more than the single night we'd shared. He had seen me at my worst… and practically run in the opposite direction.

"I will call Dimka and—"

"Mitya… He hates the name Dimka," I muttered.

"What?" She looked taken aback, like I had insulted her. "He does not! He—"

"He has told me not to call him that before… but I thought it was because he felt it was a childish name. Last night… he told me he hates it. That it reminds him of… bad things." I did not mention my father—it was something we never talked about—but I didn't need to. She understood by the guarded expression on my face that hearing the name haunted my brother—and why it did. Frowning and closing her eyes. "Oh… I did not know. I will try to remember… but it will be hard to change."

"Dimitri is the least of our worries at this point anyway… Roza is suspicious—she asked me why I smelled like cloves," I said. "I refused to answer her… and things got heated. It almost got into another physical confrontation between us."

"Which is why we need to keep the two of you separated for a few days." Abe smiled shrewdly, straightening the cuffs of his shirt, "And I know just how to do it."

"Why does that not surprise me? Enlighten us all, please."

My eyes shot over to my mother, widening in dismay; she shouldn't be so sarcastic—not when dealing with Zmey. "Mama—"

"It's quite simple, really. The animosity the girls have shown towards each other over the past few days is of great concern to us, Olena. We discussed it and decided that it's in everyone's best interest to be proactive and keep them apart until they've both had a chance to calm down—hopefully then they will be able to control themselves and act like young ladies instead of wild animals." Abe paused, reaching over to clasp Adrian's shoulder and smiling. "I've been planning to send Johnson to Saint Vlad's to do some research for me—and I think Viktoria should go along too. It will be an excellent opportunity for her to see the difference in the way they train the novices at different Academies."

"Dimitri will never believe that I would send Viktoria off with a strange man—no offense, Lord Ivashkov."

"None taken—don't worry. Strange is probably the least offensive thing I've been called today," he replied.

"I will chaperone—Dimitri cannot object to that." Yeva shifted, stretching her legs out in front of her; I felt a wave of guilt for letting her stand so long in the garden, knowing how her joints often pained her. "If we tell him I suggested it… he will not argue. He knows better."

Abe rubbed his hands together, chuckling. "There—see? Problem solved. He'll probably be relieved, truth be told. No man wants to be caught in the middle when two women he loves are quarrelling—and it will give him a chance to unruffled Rose's feathers and soothe her wounded pride."

"But… surely they will find it suspicious if Lord Ivashkov disappears too?" Mama frowned, shaking her head. "This is the problem with lies—one leads to another, then another, and before you know it you are so ensnared in their web that there's no escaping it."

"I take off all the time and disappear for days on end. All I have to do is drop a few hints that I'm going to Vegas or a party out of town." Adrian leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees again, trying to charm my mother with his smile. "And the research part is true. Today… I saw… something that made me want to check a few of the books Lissa and I read back when we were trying to find out more about our element."

I shot him a questioning look, wondering what he meant—but he didn't look my way; his eyes were fastened on my mother, waiting for her answer.

"In all his life… my son has never judged a person unfairly. Dimitri is a level headed man who is not quick to make assumptions—and he does not base his opinion of someone on idle talk or rumor. He is an excellent judge of character—"

"Not always," Yeva pointed out. "His friendship with the Ozera woman almost cost him something he treasured above all else."

"In the big guy's defense—Tasha had everyone fooled, including Lissa and me," Adrian offered, then looked startled by his own admission. "Jesus… I can't believe I just said that." His green eyes flicked over to me and then to my grandmother, filled with confusion and surprise. "I actually took up for him."

"Yes… you certainly did." Yeva smiled, looking smug. "I stand corrected. No one was aware there was a viper in their midst."

"As I was saying before I was interrupted," Mama continued, eyeing my grandmother as if she were waiting for another interjection, "Despite the fact I have never known Dimitri to be wrong… only the Savior above is perfect… so it is possible that in this instance… Dimitri is mistaken. I am willing to give you a chance to prove it, Lord Ivashkov—but mark my words. If you hurt my Vika… I promise you that anything my son might do to you will seem mild when compared to what her sisters and I will do. Do you understand me?"

I cringed internally; her threats were pointless in light of the way he'd distanced himself from me earlier. The longer I sat there, the more convinced I was that the only reason he'd come tonight was because Abe had insisted—probably an attempt to cover his own ass in case his precious daughter got wind of his involvement in the situation. "Mama—"

"I understand Ms. Belikova." He stood up, reaching for her hand to shake on it. "And I promise… you won't regret it."

I glared at him, wondering exactly how long he planned to continue the farce—a day, maybe two at most, then he'd be saying that we'd rushed head first into things and needed to take a step back. I couldn't take anymore—I needed to get out of there before I started to cry. "If that is all, may I be excused? I am very tired and feel a little ill. I'd like to go back to bed."

Mama nodded, her eyes flicking from Adrian to me. "You may go Vika… but do not ever lie to me again. Trust is easily shattered… and much harder to repair."

"Yes mama. I am sorry for my actions." Ignoring the Moroi beside her, I pressed my lips against her cheek—then moved to do the same thing to my grandmother before fleeing from the room.

Before I'd gone down a single flight I heard the door to the stairwell opening above me; I bolted, skidding off the landing and sprinting down the two remaining flights—instinctively knowing who it was, even before he called out to me.

"Vika—slow down!"

I ignored him, still irritated and confused by his actions and my own tumultuous feeling—but he caught up with me midway down the corridor before I'd reached the safety of my room.

"Hey—didn't you hear me?" He grabbed my elbow, making me stumble.

I jerked my arm free as I righted myself, turning to face him, my face an emotionless mask. "Yes, Did you need something?"

His smile wilted a little around the edges. "Are you okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine, why?"

"You're acting like…" he eyed the air around me, smile completely fading. "You're pissed. At me. What—"

"Don't be ridiculous—why would I be mad at you?"

"I don't know—You tell me."

"Look—I got the message earlier, okay? I don't know what all that was up there—" I waved my hand towards the stairwell, narrowing my eyes, "but you don't have to—"

"Message? What message? When… I didn't send you any message."

I had to hand it to him, he looked completely clueless. "When you brushed me off earlier. I'm not stupid, Adrian. Just because it was my first time doesn't mean—"

"That's what you think?" He studied me for a minute, then sighed. "I told you I had things I had to do—one of them being telling your mother the truth."

"It's not what you said—it's how you were acting!" It came out louder than I'd intended, my voice echoing down the hall. I winced at how hurt my tone sounded; it betrayed more than I'd wanted to. "You got all… distant. Like you couldn't wait to get away from me."

"So you assumed your brother and Rose were right—well thanks a hell of a lot for the vote of confidence Viktoria. Jesus!" His voice was just as loud as mine, filled with indignant anger.

I dropped my gaze, unable to stand the disappointment I saw reflected in his eyes as he stared at me. "I won't lie to you… their warnings did cross my mind—but I ignored them. I thought it was because you saw me in the garden. You know… the vision. I know it's not normal… what happens to me. I understood why you wanted to leave—but it hurt. A lot."

"You think I care about fucking normal?" He laughed, but it held no humor; it was bitter sounding, making me flinch. "To set the record straight—I used a hell of a lot of Spirit today… and it got to me. I could feel myself slipping… and I didn't want you to see it. Your vision didn't have anything to do with it—I knew I had to get a drink pretty damned fast or I'd go loony toons in front of you!"

I remained silent, studying my toenail polish intently—then immediately found myself wishing my feet weren't so exposed, given his close proximity. It was an absurd thought to have in the middle of a quarrel, but it was the effect he had on me—I wanted to be perfect for him… and I knew that I wasn't... in far too many ways to count.

"Angel," he sighed, moving closer," trust me—compared to my episodes… what happened to you today was nothing. I know what it feels like to be different—I didn't specialize when everyone else did… and I thought it made me a freak. I'd never want to make you feel that way."

"But you found out the reason eventually—why you were different. I don't have one,"

"You're not a freak. Trust me—I've met quite a few of them over the years. You're…special."

I looked up at him doubtfully. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better? Or to—"

"What? Get you into bed? I think we've already established I don't need to lie for that to happen." He chuckled softly, hesitantly reaching out to stroke his fingers along my cheek. "I didn't want to leave earlier. I had to. I went straight to Abe's and had a few drinks while I filled him in on what had happened at lunch… and how I wanted to come clean to your mom. I wanted his advice on how to handle it. Abe may be a lot of things, but he's smooth and can talk his way out of anything… and it's a good thing I went because Rose called while I was there, wanting to grill him about his 'new employee'."

"She needs to mind her own damn business," I mumbled, leaning into his touch.

"He said he's going to have to teach you a few things about what 'keeping him updated' means." He smiled, sliding an arm around my waist. "I stopped by my room and picked up a few things too and got—"

The sound of the elevator bell startled both of us; he jerked away, digging in his pocket and sliding my ring on his finger—but it was only one of my neighbors, an elderly Moroi man who was staying in the suite next to mine. We watched him enter his room, then I glanced over at my door, feeling almost…shy—which was ridiculous, considering what had passed between us the night before.

"Do you… want to come in?"

"I don't know," he deadpanned, "I still might have some things I need to do…"

"Smart ass," I muttered, unlocking the door. This time, he followed me, sliding the small duffle bag he'd been carrying off his shoulder and tossing it on the floor.

"Are you really tired—or was that just an excuse to escape?"

"A little bit of both, but for the most part an excuse," I admitted, moving into the kitchen. "Have you eaten?"

He gave me a devilish smile, licking his lips. "Not since last night."

I blushed, opening the refrigerator, letting the cool air inside take the heat from my cheeks as I studied it's contents. "I meant real food, Dusha… not…that. Oksa—the spirit user back home—says that being hungry makes it harder to deal with Spirit's side effects… so it's important you eat."

"Rose mentioned her before… I'd like to meet her. I think I could probably learn a lot if I spent some time with her." He leaned against the counter, playing with the keys I'd dropped. "I ate… yesterday. I think. In the morning. Are you hungry? We could go—"

"Sit. I have food here. It won't be anything fancy, but it will be filling—and that's what you need." I frowned at the selection, pulling out a few things and setting them on the counter. When I glanced over at him, he was watching me with the strangest expression on his face. "What? Don't tell me no girl has ever cooked for you before?"

"They haven't. I mean—my mother did… but not a girl that I was… um… seeing."

I smiled, amused at the way he tried to categorize what was happening between us—not that I had a better word for it. "Well then… I guess I get to be the first one. I better make it good, huh?"

We fell into silence as I bustled around the kitchen—boiling water for the noodles and browning the beef strips—but it wasn't like the empty silence that had been so heavy and smothering as we'd walked across Court earlier. It was comfortable and easy—and it felt so very familiar; he moved closer, and I included him in the preparation, asking him to hand me things or stir the mixture while I tore up a salad. He seemed to enjoy the small tasks, laughing when he spattered himself with sour cream or tickling my sides when I bumped him out of the way with my hip—it was like this was the thousandth meal we'd prepared together instead of the first.

And with each minute that passed… I felt him imbedding himself in my heart a little more.

"If you don't mind eating on the couch… I brought a movie. I bought it before I went to see your mom."

I glanced over at him as I dished up the Stroganoff, smiling at how anxious he looked—like he thought I might refuse him. "Did you buy it with me in mind, moy Dusha?"

"Well… yeah. It's the one I mentioned last night. I felt… sentimental, I guess. About the song we danced to."

"I would like very much to see it—but you shouldn't have spent your money on me." I frowned, not liking the thought of him using the little bit of money he had on something for me.

"Relax—it wasn't that much." He brushed his lips against my cheek, taking the plates from my hands. "You get the salad… I'll pop in the movie."

I balanced the salad bowls on my arm, grabbing two bottles of water, following after him and setting them on the table—then laughed at what he had in his hand. "Ah—and I see you have brought me your mending as well?"

"Hey—you said you would fix it. Took me forever to find all the buttons." He set the shirt and buttons on the table, moving towards the TV. "It was totally worth it though. In fact, Maybe after you sew it you can rip it off me again."

"I will—sew it I mean. Hold on, don't start the movie yet. Let me grab my sewing kit and I'll fix it after we eat."

When I returned with what I'd need, we both sank down on the floor, digging into the simple meal that we'd prepared together; his eyes widened with appreciative surprise and he complimented my skills—it was funny, but I'd never realized that a few words could affect me so greatly. Hearing that he liked my cooking made my heart sing in my chest—and so did the way his arm slid around me, pulling me closer when the princess in the movie started to sing along with the music we'd danced to.

"See—told you the song was appropriate," he murmured as the song ended, moving to stretch out on the couch behind me as I reached for my sewing.

"Mhmmm… and me dreaming about you ahead of time. It was the perfect choice," I deftly threaded my needle, squinting my eyes as I concentrated on making the stitches small and precise.

"So… the visions can't be all bad, right? They're sort of worth it since we met—not to sound conceited or anything."

"Dreaming of you I can handle—it's the other things that I can't." I tied off the knot, eying the first button I'd sewn on to make sure it was in the right place.

"Are you ready to talk about it—what freaked you out this afternoon?" When I remained silent he sighed. "I don't mean what you saw… you don't have to tell me that. I meant why you got so upset when your grandmother said she saw my aunt."

I stared down at the shirt, not sure how to answer. "I want to talk about it… I'm just not sure how to explain it"

"It's easy—you just tell me what's wrong… and I try to make you feel better about it," he offered, his voice soft.

His fingers combed through my hair; it was a soothing gesture, making me lean back into his touch like a contented cat, basking in its masters attention. "I think maybe I should be worried that you know me so well already."

"You forget—I saw what you were feeling in your aura."

"Ah—and here I thought you were just extremely observant."

"I am—but that's beside the point." When I chuckled, he gently tugged at my hair, pulling my head back so I was staring up into his eyes. "I am. I notice all sorts of things that most people don't."

"Like?" I smiled at him, raising my eyebrows.

"Ohhhh—challenging me? Fine… let's see… when you concentrate on something—like threading your needle—the tip of your tongue slips out at the corner of your mouth."

"It does not!"

"Mhmmm. It does. And when you get irritated… you get a little wrinkle—right here" He brushed his finger between my eyebrows, then slid it down the length of my nose. "And when you disagree with something but are trying to hold it in… your nose… twitches."

"You make me sound like a rabbit!" I protested, frowning.

"What's wrong with that? It's a cute habit…like a rabbit." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Oh man—now I know I'm screwed. You've got me making rhymes."

He continued tracing the planes and angles of my face with his fingertips, his touch feathery light as they skimmed across my skin; I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the sensation as I tried to summon up the courage to tell him what I feared.

"I'm scared that if Yeva is seeing ghosts… I might too." It was a whisper, barely spoken. "When I started having visions… it terrified me, but I learned to live with it. But since we've come here… they've gotten so much stronger… and some of them… I don't want to see things that aren't meant to be seen, Dusha."

"I understand… maybe I'm the only one that can. When I started seeing auras… I thought I was cracking up at first. And sometimes… I get glimpses of things—nothing as strong as you do or your grandmother—but hints of things. I've been told I space out and start rambling,,, I suppose it's a little like what happened to your grandmother today." He pressed his lips against my forehead, sighing. "But Angel… if we see things that other people don't… doesn't it mean we're meant to see them?"

"I don't know," I answered, shrugging my shoulders. "Maybe. It still doesn't make it any less terrifying."

"True… hey—I bet I know one thing you want to see—but can't." He shifted, pulling away and walking over to his bag, returning with a folded sheet of paper that he slid into my hands.

"What's this?"

He shrugged, smiling. "That… is Guardian Johnson. Told you I'd sketch it out for you.

I opened it, staring at the penciled sketch with amazement. "You drew this? Dusha! It's so good!"

I'd thought—mistakenly—that his attempts would be amateurish. I'd been so, so wrong. The portrait was almost as clear as a photograph would be, the shading precise and the lines perfect. Gazing down at the illusion he'd woven for himself, I suddenly understood why Roza had seemed so insistent that the dhampir with me was good looking—the man in the drawing resembled my brother so much that they could have been kin. It was like Adrian had merged his own features with Dimitri's, creating a man that was absolutely amazing to look at. "Wow… now I know why Roza said Johnson was a hunk."

"Huh? She said that?"

"Yes, she was quite adamant that I admit he was good looking—I bet it's because he looks so much like Dimitri."

"I didn't do it for her approval… though I'm sure she'd think that was the reason. I thought if I looked a little like him he'd be more likely to approve of me hanging out with his little sister."

"Whatever the reason… he is very handsome. But not was handsome as you are." I set the drawing down, returning to my sewing. "You know… I told you something that scared me… I think it is only fair you return the favor"

"I'm scared of losing my mind," he said, sinking back down on the couch and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"So am I… and if I actually see a ghost—that is a very real possibility." I rested my head against his, then cursed under my breath when my needle dug into my thumb, drawing blood. "Damn it! That hurt!"

I dropped the shirt, not wanting to stain it and was on the verge of popping my thumb into my mouth, when I got a better idea. I shifted a little, brushing my thumb across his lips, leaving a smear of blood. "I think the pain will go away if you kiss it for me… please?"

He made a hushed sound of pleasure as his tongue swept along his lips then swiped against the pad of my thumb. I slipped it into his mouth, smiling as I gazed into his eyes, my free hand moving to caress his cheek. I'd never considered my thumb to be a particularly sensitive part of my body, but as he gently sucked on it, my reaction was instantaneous; my nipples peaked and things low in my body tightened in response to what he was doing. Unfortunately, it only lasted a moment, then he was moving my hand away—but his heavy breathing and dilated pupils told me he was aroused too.

"You don't have to… you know. I'd never expect that."

"I know you wouldn't." I smiled. "But why waste it when you could enjoy it?"

"You know… you keep surprising me. Without even meaning to, I think. Most girls wouldn't have thought of that."

"I'm not most girls." I turned back around to resume my mending. "It's your turn again by the way—I said I was scared of losing my mind too."

"You scare me," he whispered.

"Me? Why?" I glanced back over my shoulder at him, arching a brow.

"Because… being here with you… watching you cook and sew… it makes me feel… I don't know. I like it. Maybe too much." His brow wrinkled as he frowned, looking troubled. "I shouldn't feel this way—not so fast. It isn't good. Even last night after I left the dance… I kept thinking about you… wanting to see you again. The last time I saw a girl and felt… instantly infatuated… it ended badly. She decimated me, Angel. I'm scared it will happen again."

I was silent for a moment, trying to ignore the way my heart lurched at the mention of some other girl. "I'd never do that… hurt you. I don't know if it helps… but this…thing between us—I feel it too. And I'm a little afraid of it myself. You're right… it's happening very fast… and I can't stop thinking about you either. I'm afraid… that it will make you run away from me."

"Shit… I guess that means it's my turn again." He moved away from me, stretching out on his back to stare up at the ceiling. "I have something I need to tell you… but I'm afraid it will push you away—that you won't want to be around me anymore once you hear it…and I don't want that."

"There is absolutely nothing you could tell me that would do that, Dusha." I set down the sewing, turning to reach for his hand. "I promise."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," he said softly, his thumb rubbing across the back of my hand. "The girl I mentioned… she's the first girl I ever fell in love with… and I still have feelings for her. I think I still love her—and as much as I hate it… I probably always will."

I felt a sharp ache in the center of my body—like I'd been kicked in the solar plexus; my head instantly dropped down so he wouldn't see the tears that sprang up in my eyes. "I see… well thank you for being honest about it."

"That's not the worst of it," He whispered. "It's—"

"No! I do not need to hear any more, thank you. That is enough." I pulled my hand away, turning to stare down at the coffee table. It was stupid for me to feel so shattered—but I couldn't help it. He was my heart… and he loved someone else. "Why aren't you with her right now instead of here with me?"

"She cheated on me… left me for someone else. That's what I'm trying to tell you. It's the reason—"

"I do not need to know any reasons or details or anything else, Adrian. It's enough to know your heart belongs to someone else." When you have already claimed mine, I added silently.

"I knew this would happen… I'm sorry. I just wanted to be honest and—"

"It's probably for the best—after all, I'm only here for a few weeks and then I have to go back to school." I cut him off, wrapping my arms around my knees.

"Wait—you're leaving? I thought you guys were just moving in… I don't want you to leave."

"Well, we all want things we can't have, don't we? Besides, maybe by then this girl will see the error of her ways and want you back."

"Yeah—that's not going to happen. You might say I was a rebound for her… she's back with the one she loves."

"I am sorry… that she hurt you." I bit my lip, trying to rationalize things out in my head. I was hurting, but did that mean I should waste the time I had to be with him? The answer… was a resounding 'no'. "I think… we should just enjoy our time together for what it is…and when I go back to school—"

"I don't want you to leave," he repeated. "I may be a fucked up mess and not understand a lot of what I'm feeling—but I'm positive about that. The thought of never seeing you again… makes me panic."

"If you still feel that way in a few months… I could come back. Or you could come visit me." I glanced over my shoulder at him, feeling just as confused and mixed up as he claimed he was. "Maybe by then we'll both understand what we're feeling. I just know that I want to spend as much time with you as I can and not worry about the future—and I don't want to spend it fretting about your feelings for some other girl."

"I don't like it when you call me Adrian… it makes me feel like you're pulling away from me. And despite the fact I still have feelings for her…. I'm starting to have them for you too."

"I didn't mean it that way… it just … I can't call you an endearment in the wake of your telling me you love someone else." He reached for me and I went willingly, letting him pull me into his arms as I fought to control my tears.

"Don't cry… I'm so sorry Angel… I didn't mean to upset you," he whispered, hands gently stroking my back.

"I can't help it… I know it's stupid… but it hurts." I curled my body around his, burying my face in his chest.

"It's not stupid… or… maybe it is—but I understand. I feel it too."

I almost pulled away, pointing out that he felt it for her—but I didn't. I wouldn't allow his past to destroy whatever was growing between us.

"You're right…we'll just take it day by day and see what happens," he whispered, his lips brushing against my head. "And I hate to say this… God I hate to say this… but I want you to know I understand if you don't want to have sex with me again until I get my feelings sorted out. I don't want you to feel like I'm using you or—"

"You do realize that would be as big a punishment for me, right?" I asked dryly, brushing the wetness off my cheeks and giving him a look. "I happen to have enjoyed it quite a bit."

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "Hey—I didn't say I wanted you to do it. I was just trying to be a gentleman. Fine—neither of us likes that idea… so how about we just limit ourselves a little? Tonight they'll just be cuddling… then tomorrow we can make up for it in the bathroom on the plane."

"Dusha! My grandmother will be on board!"

"So? She likes me—and I have a feeling she already knows what we did. When I sat down next to her she muttered something about being more careful next time."

"Well.. she's right—and we will be."

He sifted on the couch so we were laying facing each other, our arms wrapped around each other, lips brushing from time to time. "You're getting sleepy… is it alright if I come into your dreams when you drift off?"

"Of course… you don't have to ask… but only if it won't put too much strain on you." He was right, I was tired, but before I allowed myself to drift, there was something I had to know. "Upstairs… you said you saw something today that made you want to check those books. What was it?"

"Hmmm? Oh. Before you had your vision… do you remember me saying something about Yeva's aura?"

"Yes, about it being… amazing or something," I mumbled, sleepily, fingers tangling in his hair as I burrowed closer to him.

"Yeah… it was… it shifted…then you had yours and it happened again—only it was even brighter."

"And that means something?" My lips brushed against his neck as I nuzzled my face into the hollow of his throat, sleep dragging me under.

His voice was soft, sounding almost dreamy. "I'd say so—since the minute your vision hit and your aura shifted… it flared like a supernova, Angel—and it looked exactly like a Spirit users does."

It was the last thing I head before sleeping—and the first thing I freaked out about when he pulled me into the dream.

A/N: Sorry I didn't get this up on Sunday—between my moms doctors appointments on Friday and it being my sister's birthday over the weekend... life was chaotic. Hope you enjoy it—next one will be up in a day or two. :o)