Dear Diary,
It was a good thing he'd healed me a little, since he barely made a dent in the stack of Olad'yi that Natalia set in front of him; when I finished off mine, I switched plates with him, cleaning off his plate too—I didn't want the kind hearted woman to be offended or to think that he didn't like her cooking. We split up after breakfast—Yeva and I returned to the room so she could 'take care' of my injury, while Adrian went to the library to hunt down the books he needed in hopes of finding whatever it was he remembered seeing when he was here before. As we parted he brushed his fingertips against my cheek, sending another surge of healing warmth to remove the remains of my pain—then he scurried off as fast as he could, before I could reprimand him for doing it.
I spent a couple hours flipping through Savva's journals before resuming my classroom observations; this time Yeva tagged along with me, muttering under her breath about wasting time on trivial, unimportant things. I ignored her as best I could, though she continued harping throughout the entire communications class—which was a shame since her griping kept distracting me from the lecture, which was an extremely interesting one that I might have actually enjoyed, had it not been for her ongoing commentary.
The second class we attended… was very different from the first. I'd always assumed Professor Doloyska back home was the most boring instructor on the planet—but compared to Guardian Stan Alto… Doloyska was the life of the party.
Fighting back another yawn, I flinched, glaring at my grandmother; she kept pinching my thigh every few minutes as soon as I started to nod off.
"Stop that! I am going to be black and blue!" I whispered fiercely. "What is this—pick on Vika day?"
"Stop falling asleep—it is rude," she whispered back, not even looking my way.
"I can't help it! I am tired and I already know this. Not to mention the fact he is—"
"Am I boring you, Novice Belikova?" The guardian's loud voice whipped my eyes to the front of the room. "I suppose you think you know all there is to know about Strigoi… since your brother was one."
Yeva's eyes narrowed; I tensed, struggling to keep my voice polite since I was a visitor to the school. "No sir—but we covered this material at Saint Basil's during my sophomore year."
"That's impossible—all Academies are required to teach the same curriculum at Senior level."
"Be that as it may, at my school they test the novices to ascertain what they know and then assign the classes they take accordingly." I was actually quite shocked to learn that they didn't do the same thing here in the States—it seemed like a waste of time, teaching the students materials that they might have already surpassed. "I learned a great deal on my own from my brother and my—"
"Ah yes… your brother. Who was such an outstanding guardian that he—"
"Her grandmother taught her as well," Yeva cut in sharply, before he could further slander Dimitri's good reputation.
"Oh—well excuse me! Maybe you'd like to take over the lesson then, Mrs Belikova? Since you think you are such an excellent teacher." Sarcasm dripped from his words.
"I thought you would never ask." Yeva hefted herself out of her chair, moving towards Alto—who began sputtering in outrage.
"Now wait just a minute! I—"
"Thought you could bully an old woman the way you do your pupils. You were wrong. You… are a coward young man—one who left a fellow guardian behind to save your own miserable hide. Now sit down, shut up—and learn something." She slammed her cane down on his desk, pointing to an empty seat in the front row; to my surprise, he complied, his face turning scarlet as his students jeered and laughed at what had happened.
"None of that!" Yeva eyed them all, scowling. "You are young—you must respect your teachers. They are older than you. When you are my age you can be as rude as you like… but even I still respect my elders. Or at least… I would, if there were any older than me."
She winked at the class, surprising me—it was a side of her I'd never seen. She was a natural born teacher—I'd known that from all the lessons she'd given me—but seeing her in a classroom setting interacting with others… it made me wonder why she hadn't gone into teaching once Mama was old enough for school.
"Let's see… where was Guardian Alto before he had his tantrum….? Ah yes. You." She pointed her cane at a sandy haired dhampir in the second row, "Tell me… what is the number one danger you will face when confronting your first Strigoi?"
"They'll be faster than me… and stronger." He smirked, confident in his answer.
"Incorrect. You will—"
"What?" Alto shot to his feet, scowling. "That's—"
"Quiet! I have the floor." Yeva glared at him until he reclaimed his chair, then focused on the class. "The number one danger isn't what they are… it's what they were. You all think you will leave this place prepared to kill… but I tell you… that is wrong. You will look in their face… and you will hesitate for a brief second—thinking about the fact you are about to kill someone who was once just like you. I do not mean a dhampir or a Moroi or a human… I mean a living breathing person. Your conscious will make you hesitate, and that will make you lose your chance to make an offensive attack instead of just trying to defend yourself, hoping for a lucky blow. And I am sorry to say… it will happen every time you go to kill. If anyone tells you it won't, they are either lying or are not troubled by their own conscious."
"So how do we—"
"Listen and learn, child. There is only one way to avoid that hesitation—you do not look at their face."
"If they don't look at their face, how are they supposed to know it's a Strigoi?" Alto asked sarcastically.
"You see… this is the problem. You do not teach the novices to use what God has given them. Why do you think dhampirs have enhanced senses, young man? Simply because we are half Moroi? No—because the Good Lord made us to fight evil. Strigoi are predators… but dhampirs are too."
"Are you actually standing there saying that Strigoi should fear us? They're faster and stronger—"
"A king cobra is a horribly creature, yes? They are fiercely intelligent, fast… and they are the largest of all the venomous snakes on the planet—in fact… a single bite can kill an elephant." She stared at Alto as she leaned back against his desk, crossing her arms across her chest. "And yet… they fear the mongoose. A creature the size of a cat—one that is docile enough for people in some parts of the world keep them as pets. We are their predators, Alto—make no mistake of it. It is how it has always been—and how it shall always be."
"So if we don't look at them how do we know?" It came from a girl at the back of the room.
"Tell me Novice….?"
"Carslile, Ma'am."
"Novice Carslile… have you ever eaten something and a few hours later, you notice you can still smell it, as if it were seeping out of your pores? Say you had a meal that was strong with onion and garlic. Do you know what I mean?"
The girl's cheeks turned bright red. "I think so... The way people who drink a lot sometimes smell like alcohol?"
"Exactly. Now… Come up here and close your eyes. That's right…. Stand here by me. Keep them shut tight." Yeva held the corner of her shawl up near the girls face—the same corner she'd used to wipe the blood away from my face a few days before. "Tell me girl… what do you smell? Describe it for me as if you were writing a story. Paint me a picture with your words."
The girl's nose crinkled and she leaned her head back. "It's… sweet… but not like.. in a good way… kind of musty and metallic underneath the sweetness… and a little sour?"
"Now imagine that smell… but even stronger. We eat many different kinds of food, so the smell changes—and some foods are not strong enough to affect our natural scent. But a Strigoi… they are gluttons. They fill themselves to bursting every time they feed, for the most part draining their victims dry. There are many ways to recognize a Strigoi that don't rely on sight, the first being that they have the lingering scent of blood about them, especially if they are hunting."
"Because they're too stupid to use cologne," Alto muttered.
"Ah—but you forget Alto… their senses are even more enhanced than a Moroi's. Perhaps some try to hide the scent with perfumes and sprays, but it deadens their noses even more than it does ours. A drop of perfume to a Strigoi is like a drop of blood to a hunting hound—it overpowers their sense of smell. I would think that would be something they tried to avoid, yes? But perhaps we should ask my grandson that since he can speak from his own experience."
Alto blushed, looking at the floor; Yeva had bested him again. "You may go sit down Novice Carslile. Thank you for your assistance."
The girl hesitated nervously. "But how else? You said use or senses… sight and sound are only two."
"Well I wouldn't recommend touching them—unless it is with a stake, so that one is out," Yeva said, smiling. "And I don't recommend biting them, since they will probably bite you back."
The class laughed, making Alto scowl even more and sink down in his chair. "They're silent—so you can't hear them either."
"Not true. If you listen closely enough, you can hear them, but it takes practice and learning to shut out the other sounds around you," Yeva countered.
"Preposterous—they don't even have a heartbeat!"
"They do, though it beats much more slowly than ours. But I meant that you could hear them in the silence itself. A forest at night is full of life; crickets chirping and night birds calling—but they grow silent if a predator draws to near. Have you never noticed the way one moment the night air is full of their music and the next it is gone? It is the same way with a Strigoi. If a guardian feels they are being stalked, the chances are that they are correct—it is a matter of learning to ignore the ambient sounds around them while still listening for the oncoming attack."
"What do you mean… if they feel like they are being stalked?" A dark haired boy this time—one who seemed far too small to be a senior.
"Ah, child. How do I explain it? Do you know how deer stills in the forest when they sense the wolf is nearby? It is an instinctive feeling of danger that we all have…" she glanced over at me, arching a brow—immediately I knew what she wanted; it was the same lesson she'd given me when I was about nine or ten. I stood up, walking over to hit the light switch; there were gasps and titters around the room, but they silenced at her sharp voice. "Do not make me angry class. I am trying to teach you. Everyone—close your eyes please."
What for? It's already pitch black in here and—"
"Close them!"
I toed off my shoes, quietly walking the perimeter of the room, listening to her as she spoke—telling them how in ancient times, dhampirs senses had been more honed than they were in modern days. As I silently weaved through the rows, she talked about how our people had lost touch with that important, primitive part of their brain; the more she spoke, the higher the tension in the dark room grew. My brother had played the predator for me, stalking me through a dark room the same way I was doing for the class—moving through the still darkness like a shark beneath the waves, searching for a victim. I did not worry about tripping or bumping into things—years of lessons like this had prepared me for my role; my senses were heightened and super aware, my body naturally avoiding obstacles as I walked.
I stopped by a desk in the middle of the room, just standing in the darkness and staring at the place where I sensed the Novice was sitting. A few moments later her voice rang out, trembling with fear.
"Can… can we turn the lights on? Please? I feel like something's here with us… I don't like it!"
"Does anyone else feel that way?" Yeva's voice was soft—yet I could hear the amusement in it.
"Uh… I do too. It's… creepy as hell." That came from the other side of me, the small boy she'd called on earlier.
"Language! Guardian Alto… would you turn on the lights please?"
He mumbled under his breath about wasting the classes time—bumping into a desk and cursing softly on the way to the door. When the lights flicked on, the students around me screamed—making my grandmother chuckle.
"That… is how you 'feel' someone stalking you children. I suggest you all practice this for yourselves on your own time. It is a lesson my grandchildren practiced until they could move through the darkness without making a sound, as graceful as tigers hunting in the night. Do you understand what I meant?"
There were quiet murmurs throughout the room; the class looked excited as they whispered among themselves—probably already making plans to practice in their darkened dorm rooms. Alto looked around the room, his face betraying his surprise; I wondered if it was the first time his students showed any enthusiasm for learning.
"There is another way you can feel a Strigoi, but it comes with exposure and years of service." Yeva said softly. "In time… you will find you can sense when they are near. Not so much with the younger ones… but with the ones that have been around for decades… it is as if the weight of time gives a strength to their very presence. You feel it in your bones like an ache—"
"Alright—that's enough." Alto stormed up to the front of the room—probably assuming he could intimidate her with his size. It was a laughable thought, considering my brother had seven inches on the man and even he cowered when my grandmother glared. "Maybe they believe this the type of mumbo jumbo on the commune—"
Yeva cut him off with a sly, knowing smile. "How many Strigoi have you killed Guardian Alto?"
"That's none of your business." His hand went up to cover the back of his neck, his ears turning red.
"Five? Ten? Fifteen?" Whatever the number… I dare say I killed more." She gave him a bored look, tilting her head. "And I was only in service for a few years. You see… in my day, those of us that were willing did not hide behind wards like frightened sheep. We cleared the area around the towns, wiping out the vermin when it crept to close to our Moroi's homes. We hunted them… because that is what predators are meant to do. Part of the reason I left service was because our people had strayed too far from the old ways."
I saw a flicker of pain cross her face and knew she was thinking of the other reason—my grandfather's murder. Before I could move to make my way up to her side, Alto snorted.
"Save the fairytales for your grandchildren Mrs. Belikova. No one here wants to hear th—"
Startled gasps sounded throughout the room as my grandmother turned, removing her shawl; I knew what they were seeing without having to look. Growing up I had never questioned why my grandmother always wore a scarf around her neck or high necked blouses with close fitting collars—it was just something she'd always done, the way some of my friends grandmothers always wore curlers in their hair; it wasn't until last year when she'd fallen in the shower and needed help to stand that I saw what she had kept hidden for such a long, long time.
Molnijas—dozens of them, surrounded her promise mark, covering the wrinkled skin on the back of her neck. There was no Zvezda like Roza had, but there was another mark—one that I had never seen; judging by the look on Alto's face… he'd never seen it either.
"What is that one… the one shaped like a… crescent?" he asked, moving closer to examine it.
"A sickle," I said softly, my voice carrying across the hushed room. She had explained it's significance to me that day in the bathroom with a pained look in her eyes that had nothing to do with the fall she had taken—it had to do with the heavy weight of her memories.
"It is a serpovidno mark. They are rare… only given to guardians who's reputation matches the marks meaning." Yeva pulled her shawl up, hiding away what others would have proudly displayed. "The Moroi I guarded was reckless and headstrong—determined to go into areas that put him at great risk. He always invited someone I cared about to join him, knowing it would make me more…vigilant. It was a game for him… to put me in situations where he thought I would have to choose where my loyalty lay when it came to which Moroi I protected."
"But what does it mean?" Alto persisted, staring at her neck as if he could still see the ink, even though the shawls fabric covered her skin.
"In days long past…far before my time, Guardians bore the promise mark but were given an additional one as well. One that represented the Moroi they served—or in rare instances one that best represented the way they served their duty. Some received a cross or the crest of the Royal family they had pledged themselves to… I received the sickle. My Moroi… he was a favorite of the queen. She granted his request, not realizing he was not trying to honor me—but to remind me of something I hated."
"But why would that—"
"It reminded me that I was… different. Not like other women of my kind. A woman is meant to bring life into the world, Guardian Alto—and the sickle represents the opposite. Throughout the ages… who has carried one?"
He didn't respond, but the small boy did. "Death."
"Correct." Yeva shifted, uncomfortable for the first time since she'd moved to the front of the room—perhaps regretting her decision to show off her secret..
"Death? But why would that bother you? It's what we're trained to do?"
"I had a nickname when I was younger… zhatka dlya uborki… The reaper. I did not like it much."
"Then why not ask your charge not to call you—"
"It was not Vasily Zeklos that named me. It was the Strigoi." Her voice was flat and cold. "In testing me, my charge turned me into a raging beast—one who fulfilled her duty and protected the one she loved, at the cost of many, many lives. So you see young man… there is a reason my grandson is among the best. He is dedicated and loyal—and I taught him from the time he was old enough to stand on his own two feet. He was trained by the reaper to be an instrument of merciless death—a scourge to the Strigoi."
The surly guardian remained silent for a moment, before a calculating expression flickered across his face. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion as I watched him bow his head respectfully at Yeva—my wariness growing as he turned to address the class.
"For the remainder of the period we will have a question and answer session with Guardian Belikova—we should all take advantage of the rare opportunity to learn from someone with her experience." He pulled the chair out from behind his desk, offering it to my grandmother; she smiled, reaching up to pat his cheek, chuckling softly.
"You see boy? I told you that if you listened you would learn something today, didn't I?"
"That you did." His tone was apologetic, but there was an underlying hint of something else—I couldn't place it, but whatever it was, it bothered me immensely.
A hand shot up in the back of the room—the young girl Yeva had used for her demonstration about scents. "Can we ask Novice Belikova things too? About her classes at Saint Basil's?"
"Certainly—let's break into two groups. Anyone wanting to talk to Guardian Belikova, move to the front of the room. If you want to question Novice Belikova, move to the back." Alto leaned against his desk, looking almost smug—something my grandmother seemed to miss, since she was already surrounded by students.
My group was much smaller—which was understandable. I didn't have any marks, and I was a student just like them, so I was actually quite surprised than anyone would want to talk to me at all. Still, there were a half dozen novices who seemed to think I was interesting. I answered their questions as best I could, explaining the primary differences I'd noticed in my short time on their campus. I was in the middle of explaining how we had more classes each day when I heard the door open behind me, but I didn't turn around to look—not until I heard Adrian's voice.
"Guardian Alto—Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Vika… I mean… Novice Belikova." He looked over at me and winked.
"Is that your boyfriend? Carslile's voice was loud, immediately making me blush.
"Don't be stupid—he's a guardian," one of the boys said, moving closer to me. "He's way too old for her." He gave me a bright smile, leaning against the desk I was sitting on—so close his arm pressed against mine. "I have training next period—maybe you could stop by the gym and we could compare moves?"
Adrian scowled. "Sorry—she's going to be busy with her ancient, decrepit boyfriend, kid."
I stared at him, wide eyed—more thrilled than I'd imagined possible at hearing him call himself such a thing.
"Ohh you're lucky—he's hot!" Carslile giggled; the boy beside me took a giant step back, glancing nervously in Adrian's direction.
"Novice Belikova, you're excused." Alto said—that creepy smile reappearing on his face.
"Grandmother—"
"Run along—I'll be fine. We have a lot to discuss yet. Come back for me when the period is over, yes?"
"If you're sure," I said, my eyes flicking between her and Alto.
"Such a worrywart. Go—our kotik needs you." She smiled at me, waving me towards the door.
Casting one last glance at Alto, I grabbed my purse, trying to shake the tense, anxious feeling that had appeared as soon as I thought about leaving her alone in the room. I forced a smile on my face as I joined Adrian; automatically his hand moved to rest against the small of my back, steering me down the hallway. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"What the hell is it with male dhampirs? Is sparring some kind of courtship ritual?" He huffed, his hand sliding so that it rested on my waist almost possessively.
"It seems to affect Moroi the same way—after all, you found the idea pretty enchanting this morning," I teased, moving closer to him. "Think about it… it's a hands on, full body contact sort of thing."
"I'm not that much older than you." He peered down at me frowning. "Does it bother you? The age thing?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I adore my mature older boyfriend." I arched a brow tilting my head flirtatiously—wanting to find out if he'd actually meant it—but before he could respond, someone called my name from behind us. We turned to see Carslile running down the hall with a panicked look on her face.
"Guardian Alto… I don't know why… but he tried to grab your grandmother from behind. She—"
"He wanted to best her and soothe his stupid wounded male ego," I muttered, scowling. "I knew he was up to something, he had a sneaky look on his face."
"Well she knocked him off his feet… only he hit his head on the corner of the desk on the way down—he's not waking up! She sent me to get you—"
"Shit," Adrian murmured, grabbing my hand and hurrying back towards the classroom. "Of all the fucking people to have to—"
"Dusha—you can't! Not in front of a classroom full of students!" I whispered, glad Carslile had run back ahead of us to tell Yeva we were coming.
"I have to—I'll just pretend to do CPR." He made a face, jerking the door open, making a beeline for the fallen guardian—who appeared to still be unconscious on the floor. My eyes flicked to Yeva—her face was completely expressionless; she was leaning on her cane, staring down at the man as if he were a training dummy she'd just annihilated.
"What happened," I whispered fiercely, watching as Adrian bent over the man and pretended to give him mouth to mouth.
"He tried to surprise me. He failed." Yeva's eyes flicked over to the desk; there was a smear of red along the pointed corner. I leaned against it, shifting so my hip would wipe away the blood.
Alto coughed, opening his eyes; immediately Adrian sat back and wiped his mouth off, grimacing in a way that would have been comical under different circumstances. "You okay? You hit your head pretty hard."
"What happened?" Alto's eyes flicked from Adrian to the students that surrounded them; he looked befuddled, as if he had no idea what he'd done.
"You attacked my grandmother," I said, taking a step closer, "and she knocked you on your ass. In trying to prove you were better than her, you made yourself look like a fool."
"I was just trying to—"
"It does not matter. I have no more time to waste on your foolishness." Yeva glanced at the students, shaking her head. "I am sorry that I will not be able to answer any more of your questions, children. However, if you would like to write them down and give them to Guardian Petrov, I will try to write you out responses before I leave tomorrow."
The students groaned as she moved towards the door—I saw a look of regret flash across her face. She had genuinely been enjoying interacting with them, but I knew she did not trust herself to remain in the room with Alto for a minute more than she had to. "Novice Carslile," she called out from the door, "since you assisted me in getting my granddaughter… you may escort me to my room."
"Now wait a minute—"
"Unless your instructor would prefer to send someone to fetch Guardian Petrov so he can explain why I am so tired—I am sure that she would like to hear how he attacked an old woman." She held her arm out to the novice, casting a final glare at the guardian before shuffling out of the room.
"You really are a piece of work, aren't you Stan?" Adrian said, standing up and reaching for my arm and tugging me towards the door—probably realizing I was on the verge of kicking yet another guardian in the balls. "You're lucky we were still close enough to come back—though I'm starting to wish I'd just kept walking and left you on the floor."
I tugged my arm free, turning to glare back at the man. "Does anyone in this class speak Russian?"
When no one spoke up, I unleashed every curse I could think of on the man, my voice raising the longer I went on until I was practically screaming at the top of my lungs; Adrian grabbed my arm again, jerking me out the door and down the hall—where several instructors were standing, wondering what was going on. I continued to rant all the way out to the quad, though at a lower volume, finally stopping to take a breath when Adrian staggered a little. Immediately I slid my arm around his waist, steering him towards a bench.
"Dusha—"
"Give me a sec—that took more than I thought it would." His voice was strained and thin.
I brushed his hair off his face, my alarm growing as I noticed how pale he looked. "You shouldn't have—"
"Couldn't risk Yeva getting in trouble for defending herself." He gave me a shaky smile. "I was planning on taking you to the library… but I think I need to lay down."
"Come on—let's get you back to the room." I stood up, helping him to his feet. When he swayed, I slid his arm around my shoulders, shifting to counterbalance his weight. "Lean on me… save your strength."
"Appearances," he murmured, trying to straighten up.
"To hell with what people think—you're more important than they are." With me half supporting him, we crossed the quad; I cursed the stairs when they winded him, making him wheeze. Ignoring his protests, I shifted my body again, moving so I was in front of him and hefting him onto my back. He struggled—but stopped fighting against me when I pointed out he was going to make us both tumble down the stairs.
Yeva was in his room, sitting on the couch and reading one of Savva's journals; she didn't look up when we entered. "It is polite to knock."
"This is Dusha's room—and he needs to rest." I moved towards the bed but she glanced up, pointing at the door.
"This is my room—the two of you will share the other."
"But—"
"The longer you stand there arguing the longer it is before our kotik can get what he needs. Stop glaring at me and go put your man to bed Viktoria."
I scowled at her, backtracking out the door to the room across the hall. I laid him down as gently as I could, shoving my duffle bag off the bed so he could stretch out comfortably. He sighed, grabbing my hand and squeezing it weakly; I bent down, brushing my lips against his forehead, wishing there were some way I could help him.
"I need you to go to the library, please. Three of the books Lissa and I used have gone missing—they're not on the shelves and the librarian swears no one has checked them out… they just vanished without a trace." He took a deep breath, squeezing my hand again; he looked so worn out that even his eyes were dull and glassy looking. "I compelled her to make copies of some things from the books that were still there… but I don't know how long it will last—you need to pick up the copies before she snaps out of it and starts wondering why she made them."
"I don't want to leave you alone," I murmured, pressing my lips against the back of his hand.
"I'll be fine Angel. Remember what Yeva said? About them destroying books? We need those copies in case the rest of them end up disappearing."
I stared down at him for a moment, completely torn; nodding slowly, I moved the phone from the nightstand to the bed, placing it within reach of his hand. "If you need me, call me immediately. I mean it Dusha."
"Cross my heart and hope to—"
"Don't—don't say that… not even as a joke." I kissed him again before moving towards the door. "I'll be right back."
"Miss you already," he whispered, rolling over onto his side.
I was at the stairs when Yeva called out to me; I turned to see her hobbling down the hallway, holding the journal she'd been reading.. "In case you become bored on your errand," she said, pressing it into my hand. "I will look after him while you are gone."
"So why couldn't I just leave him in your room?" I asked, irritably.
"Because the bed is bigger in that room," she answered cryptically, waving at the stairs. "Go—do what he asked. I must go sit back down—that fool of a guardian overexerted me."
I shoved the journal into my purse, muttering under my breath as I jogged down the stairs. The things I said weren't pleasant ones—I ranted about Alto and my grandmother, but mostly I cursed the element that held Adrian so tightly in its grasp. I didn't even attempt to rein in my bad temper—I knew it was keeping the bulk of my intense worry away; if my fear for Adrian's wellbeing gained the upper hand, I would run back to the room and refuse to leave again, no matter how much he might plead with me.
There was no sign of the librarian at the circulation desk; I rang the small bell a number of times, but no one ever appeared. Bristling with irritation, I glanced around, backtracking towards the door where a large map of the library was displayed on the wall to its right. I studied it, trying to figure out where the copy room might be—my best guess was a small room that was situated at the back that was labeled 'staff only', so that's where I headed. The door was open, and sure enough, a Moroi woman was bent over the copier—I called out, announcing my presence, startling her out of her wits.
She jumped at the sound of my voice, spinning to face me; I could tell by the dazed look on her face that she was still deeply caught in Adrian's snare. "I'm sorry—this area is off limits to students."
"I am not a student—I'm visiting the campus with Guardian Johnson. He sent me to fetch his copies."
"Oh… well you'll have to wait—I'm not nearly finished." She turned back to the machines, returning to her task—immediately forgetting my existence as she focused on what she'd been instructed to do.
Sighing, I retreated to the nearest chair, wondering if the compulsion would last long enough for her to get the job done. My eyes automatically ran over the nearest bookshelf, looking for something to peruse while I waited, but the section I was closest to appeared to be on Ancient Moroi Law—which was not something I was even remotely interested in. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the journal Yeva had handed me—not really interested in it either, but it was better than trying to read boring legal double speak that would probably put me to sleep in less than thirty seconds. Flipping through the pages, I barely skimmed them, not really paying attention to what I was looking at until a particular sentence caught my eye. Glancing up at the date, I surmised it had been written when my cousin was around my age—almost twenty years before.
Today Sofochka fell into a deep melancholy; no matter what I said or did, I could not alleviate her misery.
It wasn't the first time he'd mentioned the woman's moodiness—throughout the volumes I'd leafed through, it happened several times. My heart went out to the girl for what she'd suffered, as well as to my poor cousin; it was easy to imagine how helpless he must have felt, watching and being unable to help her—but this time when I read about his girlfriend's condition… a prickle danced through my head.
The doctors at the clinic are dumbfounded by her mood swings; they chalk it up to the insanity that is common in her bloodline, saying there is no cure—but I will not give up. I can't. I refuse to believe that she will end up locked away—such a thing would be a fate worse than death for both of us. I must continue to do what I can to ease back the press of her madness, no matter how much she protests.
I froze, rereading the passage, my fingers tracing along the words. The rest of the entry branched off, talking about other things; I began turning the pages, my eyes scanning each entry for another mention of the mysterious affliction—finally finding reference to it at the very back of the journal.
Today Sofiya is not herself—I came home to find her in a destructive rage, acting more like an animal than a woman. She fought against me when I took her in my arms—screaming profanities at me as I tried to soothe her. Though I knew it was a dangerous thing to offer when her mind was so shattered, I held her close, urging her to —cont—
I stared at the abrupt ending—he'd written all the way down to the very bottom of the last page; it was obviously continued in the next volume—which was all the way back in Yeva's room.
Cursing under my breath, I turned back to the very front, scanning the passages I'd barely glanced at when I first opened up the book—looking for any mention of the girl's mood swings or fits of temper. I found another one about twenty pages in—more descriptive than the last.
I cannot help but wonder if the fact she did not specialize plays some bearing on the illness that plagues her mind. Everyone else has found a certain element that resonates within them, easy to rein in and control—but out of the entire academy, only my Sofochka does not have one that stands out. Perhaps whatever it is that inhibits her magic is what builds up inside her, making her act out? It is sheer speculation, of course; I do not know—no one does. At least we have found a way to fight off the worst of it—and I thank God above every night in my prayers for each brief respite I can grant her, and for whatever it is within me that soothes her aching mind.
The book fell from my hands, hitting the floor with a thud—the noise echoing through the large, cavernous room; several of the students milling about made loud shushing noises, but I barely even registered the sound or the looks of disapproval they shot me.
Because I understood everything.
Sofiya Badica was a Spirit user… and somehow… my cousin had been able to help her. I scooped up the book, my hands trembling as I turned back to the very last entry, rereading it carefully—but it was impossible to discern the secret without the rest of the entry. I needed the next book to figure out the puzzle—to figure out how I could help Adrian stabilize his element.
An ache started, right behind my eyes; almost as soon as I notice, it flared white hot—making spots dance before my eyes. The pain wasn't intense—but it was strong enough to let me know that I was finally on the right track. I shoved the book in my purse, hurrying back into the copy room.
"I have to go—right now. I can't wait. When you are done with those copies…" I searched my mind, trying to think of something that she couldn't overlook, even if the compulsion faded—but only one thing came to mind. I grabbed an oversized envelope from the shelf above her, scrawling out 'Guardian Johnson—in care of Alberta Petrov' across the front. "You will send them to Guardian Petrov's office—those copies are for a project they are working on. They have to have them right away. Do you understand me?"
She stared at me, her eyes widening; when she didn't answer I grabbed her arm, giving her a little shake. "Those copies must all be made and they must go to Guardian Petrov. Do you understand?"
"Yes—" she reached out and took the envelope from my hand. "Send them in this… to Alberta Petrov."
"Thank you. Thank you very much. I am sorry֫!" I had to fight not to run out of the library; I walked so fast it was practically a jog, pushing my way past anyone who stepped in front of me without bothering to say excuse me—my rudeness didn't matter. Nothing did except the fact I needed to get my hands on the next volume; shoving through the door, I let myself go, sprinting as fast as I could—praying as I ran that I wasn't mistaken… that the answer I needed was at hand.
Yeva was waiting for me—standing in the doorway to her room, a small, knowing smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "So… you found the wisdom hidden in the poetry?"
"I need the next book! The last entry is continued—"
"No. Already I have dared too much by giving you that journal. I have twisted things—I cannot risk changing them anymore." She stepped back into the room, moving to shut the door; I slammed my palm against it so hard that the door shook on its frame.
"I have to have it—you don't understand! Sofiya was—"
"A Spirit user. Yes… I know. You cannot have the book—not right now. There is no time for reading—your Dusha needs you." She moved impossibly fast, knocking my arm away—slamming the door and locking it before I could move to stop her.
"But the answer is in it! Please!" I pounded on the door with my fists, screaming at her—but she wouldn't open it back up. "Grandmother—"
"You already have the answer—all of it. Use your mind Viktoria," she called through the door. " Yin and Yang—completion. Go do what you were meant to do child—hurry… time is scarce."
I might have stood there arguing had it not been for a strange noise that carried across the hall; it was almost a wail…like a soul in torment—it tore me away from Yeva's door, pulling me the ten steps it took to cross to the other side. I called out to him as I opened the door—my voice trailing off almost as soon as it began.
He was sitting in the middle of the floor—an expression on his face that was so heartbreaking, it immediately brought hot tears to my eyes; it reminded me of the way Paul had looked when he'd wandered away from us at the zoo and gotten completely lost. When we finally found him, he looked the way Adrian did now—terrified and alone and panicked.
He was sitting in the middle of the floor—an expression on his face that was so heartbreaking, it immediately brought hot tears to my eyes; it reminded me of the way Paul had looked when he'd wandered away from us at the zoo and gotten completely lost. When we finally found him, he looked the way Adrian did now—terrified and alone and panicked.
"Dusha… are you alright?"
"I can't find her," his voice was a broken whisper, so soft I almost missed it—yet painful and scratchy sounding, his throat worn raw from screaming.
"Can't find who?"
"I looked everywhere—but she's gone. Did I imagine her? Was it all a dream?"
I dropped my purse on the floor, moving closer to where he sat. "I'll help you look… but I have to know who it is that we're trying to find…"
"My Angel… she's gone." He looked up at me—but there was no recognition in his eyes; they were bleak and hopeless—the normal brilliant green completely dull and lifeless, like he'd lost the will to live. He stared right through me—not seeing me at all.
"Your… but I'm right here—right in front of you . I'm not lost, moy Dusha—"
"Don't call me that!" He screamed, his hands clenching into fists. "Only she can call me that!"
"Adrian—"
"Is this a dream? Can you wake me up? Please? If you wake me up… maybe I'll find her. Yes—she's waiting for me to wake up. Have to wake up. Right now."
"You're awake… this is real," I whispered, fighting back a sob as I watched him—cursing myself for not reading faster… for not reading the rest of the entry.
"You don't understand! I have to find her! " He hadn't heard a word I'd said; he climbed to his feet and began to pace, tugging at his hair and mumbling so softly that I couldn't catch what he was saying—then he froze, grabbing his head in his hands and closing his eyes.
"Adrian…Dus— kotik…" I wanted to call out to him—to use the endearment he seemed to remember as my special name for him—but I didn't want to risk upsetting him even more. "Open your eyes, tom cat… let me see your beautiful eyes. Look at me… please?"
His eyes shot open—fastening on me; a soft cry escaped me as I started to tremble, not sure what I should do. There was a frantic, almost crazed look in his eyes; it terrified me, but I wasn't scared for myself—I was scared for him. Closing the distance between us I did the only thing I could think of; I kissed him—hoping the press of my lips against his would anchor him firmly in reality and chase away whatever horrifying visions were playing out in the depths of his mind.
Only… it did more than that—God above… so much more.
I don't know what exactly it was that caused it; I could say the Sight or claim female intuition—personally, I think it might have just been pure, dumb luck. But whatever it was that triggered it, as I kissed him, in the blink of an eye, all the information I'd ingested over the past few days suddenly aligned in my mind. The shocking discovery about my aura changing circled around Savva's entries about Sofiya, then all of that superimposed over the discussion we'd had on the plane and Yeva's enigmatic riddles. And I understood it all—the chiming in my head was so loud and clear that it sounded like a celestial chorus, telling me that finally… finally… I had it right.
The answer was something my grandmother and my cousin had—something that had passed from the very first seer of our bloodline, all the way down to me. It resided inside us, dancing through our veins, untapped and untouchable—powering our visions, expressing itself in the only way it could—so strong that it almost crippled us… because we couldn't use it. It was the secret missing ingredient needed to fill Yeva's hypothetical hole.
"If there is a hole in the middle of the road, what must one do to fix it?"
"Fill it."
"Exactly. You are a wise man, Guardian Johnson."
"But how? How can you replenish something that is a part of you that's been used up?"
"If you have a glass of water that is empty and you thirst what do you do, kotik?"
"Refill it with water."
"Exactly. You see? Half of my riddle is already solved.
And now… I had solved the other half. Yin and Yang— a constantly changing balance between opposite halves of a whole; one cannot exist without the other—Yin creates Yang and Yang activates Yin in a never-ending circle, over and over again.
It was time to fill up the hole.
"Come back to me, moy Dusha," I murmured against his lips, then pulled back—just enough to gently guide his mouth to my throat. I didn't care if people thought it was wrong or that they would judge me harshly for my actions; I knew what he needed—and I would give it to him, no matter what the cost. "Drink, moy lyubov'… drink and be well."
Bracing myself, I waited for the sweet sting of his bite; I waited for him to take what he needed to heal his broken mind—the unharnessed, unused Spirit that resided in my blood.
A/N Dear fanfiction . net : STOP REFORMATTING MY FUCKING TEXT. K? THNX.
I have tried to correct the formatting on this about 15 times, but for some reason it keeps changing. The only things meant to be italicized are Savva's journal entries and the quoted discussion between Yeva and Adrian in the last section, as well as a few select words. Try and ignore any other large blocks of dialogue that the damn doc manager decides to reformat. I swear ths site is becoming so hard to use -.-