Dear Diary,

We made the trip in silence, though I did thank Alto profusely for waiting when I joined them in the car. He didn't respond, though the rim of his ears reddened; obviously the man is either not used to helping people, or not used to being thanked for his efforts—I'm not sure which.

Some people might have found the weight of the quiet grating—after all, it continued after we parked the car and set out on foot, traipsing through the forest—but as I have said time and time again, I am not like most people. My brother and I are two of a kind—we relish times of silence because it allows us think about the things that trouble us so that we can better overcome them. I was actually glad that no one was talking—it gave me time to contemplate and conquer the fear that was slowly clawing at my stomach. With every step we took, I became more tense and ill at ease.

I was afraid… of the cave.

Even though my grandmother's prediction about my brother had already come to fruition, I was becoming more and more nervous about entering such a place. I'd spent my entire life avoiding caves—it was something that had been programed into my brain from a very young age. Though they no longer presented a danger to Dimitri, that kind of conditioning is not something that just disappears overnight. When something is so deeply rooted in your psyche, it becomes second nature to you—like breathing or blinking, it is something that affects you, whether you want it to or not. That fear will always be a part of me, no matter how foolish it seems; it will linger on and on in my subconscious, affecting my thoughts and actions… probably until the day I take my last breath.

Ahead of me, Alto stopped walking abruptly and I stumbled, nearly slamming into him. "Once we get inside, I'll take point. Johnson—I want you bringing up the rear. Be on the alert—if you spot anything out of the ordinary, bring it to my attention immediately."

"Petrov's group is already in there," Adrian pointed out. "If there were any Strigoi—"

"It's not Strigoi I'm worried about. The academy is surrounded by privately held land, but on the other side of that land, it's all a Federal Wildlife Preserve. Animals don't care about boundaries—any number of creatures could have taken up residence in the cave since the last time we were there."

"What kind of animals are we talking about?" Adrian asked.

"Best case? Maybe a bobcat or a black bear."

I frowned. "And the worst case?"

"Mountain lion. If we're really unlucky… a grizzly."

Adrian visibly paled, making the strangest sound—though I wasn't sure why. "I know what a mountain lion is… I have seen them on television, but what is this… grizzly?"

Alto looked at me like it was the most incredibly asinine question that he'd ever heard. "A bear."

I blushed, feeling stupid at my ignorance—but if I didn't ask questions, then I would never learn anything. "So why is it worse than the other kind of bear? I mean a bear is a bear, right?"

"Black bears are generally pretty shy—they avoid confrontation. Grizzly bears don't. They're bigger and meaner—especially if their cubs are around." He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. "They're actually a type of brown bear like the ones you have in Russia—but I believe Siberian bears are bigger, especially the ones in the Far Eastern districts."

I suddenly understood why Adrian was disturbed. If grizzly bears were like the ones we had in the north eastern region, saying they were mean was the understatement of the year. The bears sometimes did not retire for their long winter sleep and as a result, they were often rendered quite insane. "Are your American bears crazy? Or do they sleep in the winter?"

"Huh?" Alto looked confused. "Oh—you're talking about the Kamchatka bears. The 'insomnia' bears, correct?"

I nodded, moving closer to Adrian: I was suddenly over conscious of the fact we were deep in the woods and what that might mean. The forest around us didn't seem peaceful and inviting anymore; I began to study the trees around us, looking for any sign of wildlife—though I wasn't really sure exactly what I'd do if a bear suddenly rushed us. That was one scenario we'd certainly never discussed or covered in any of my training classes.

"No. Grizzly bears hibernate—that's the problem." His expression shifted, becoming grim. "This is the time of the year they start looking for dens so the sows can prepare to give birth. A cave like this one… it's prime real estate for a pregnant grizzly—I'm surprised Alberta didn't take that into consideration."

"Maybe she did—I bet Yeva could take down a grizzly with one hand tied behind her back." Adrian smiled, trying for levity to lighten the tension in the air, but it sounded forced and fell flat.

"Hopefully they haven't had to test that theory," I muttered, glancing over at him and frowning. There was no way in hell I could let him play rear guard. "I need to take the rear position, Guardian Alto."

"Non-negotiable." Alto shifted the lapel of his jacket, displaying the holstered sidearm he wore on the left side of his body. "We're armed with more than just stakes—you're not."

I sighed. "He isn't—and he has no idea how to use a stake."

"Of course he does—that happen to be a requirement for guardians, young lady."

"He's not really a guardian." I frowned. "Dusha… take off your ring."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Vika. He'll tell—"

"Just do it—please. Your safety is more important than my brother finding out who you are. Guardian Alto has to know where he needs to focus his protective efforts if something happens once we're inside."

Alto's eyes—which were flicking between us—almost popped out of his head when Adrian tugged off the ring and shoved it in his pocket. He stared, mouth open—sputtering indignantly—then his face turned an alarming shade of red. "Is this your idea of a joke? Coming here and pretending to be one of us?"

I knew I had to defuse the situation fast—before it got completely out of hand. "That's not it at all—but it is a long, complicated story and we do not have time to get into it right now."

"It's really not that complicated, Vik." Adrian was trying not to smile, but the way his lips were twitching betrayed him. "See, her brother doesn't approve of me—"

"Imagine that," Alto muttered sarcastically.

Adrian ignored him. "—so in order to spend time with her I had to develop an alter ego that Belikov would be okay with. Think of it as Romeo and Juliet… minus the whole dying thing."

"I think I prefer her answer—at least it gave me plausible deniability when Belikov finds out." The guardian's jaw tensed, his eyes moving away from us to scan the trees. "Don't worry—there's no way in hell I'm going to be the one to open that can of worms."

Without another word, he started walking again; I gestured for Adrian to follow him as I fell back into the position of rear guard. The man's reaction surprised me; from the moment we'd met, I'd thought Alto was little more than an overgrown bully—but a bully certainly wouldn't be able to pass up the opportunity to wreak havoc by blabbing our secret to Dimitri. He was turning out to be an enigma; the more time I spent with him, the more his actions made me reassess my first impression.

Adrian shot me a quizzical look as I sped up and passed him; I waved him off, closing the distance between myself and the guardian and falling into step beside him. I had to make sure that he'd meant what he said—if Dimitri was going to learn the truth, it needed to come from Adrian and me, not some outside source—but I also had the strangest urge to learn more about the man so I could better reevaluate my opinion of him.

The guardian glanced over at me, frowning. "Guarding the rear means just that, Novice Belikova. In case it escaped you… this happens to be the lead."

"I am aware of that." I trained my eyes on the path ahead of us, racking my brain for something to say. "You certainly know a lot about animals."

He shrugged.

His standoffish behavior wasn't a surprise—I tried again. "To know as much as you do about the wildlife in Russia… have you been there?"

"No. I haven't."

"So… how do you know so much about it then? Television, perhaps?"

"I read—you do know what books are, I assume?" he snapped.

"There is no need to get testy." It was very hard for me to hold my tongue—my first impulse was to snap back. "You must read quite a bit."

"Animals interest me. Part of the reason I requested this academy was because of the wildlife preserve—I spend most of my time off there." He glanced over at me, frowning. "What is it you really want to ask, Belikova? I can tell you've got something on your mind—it's obvious that you're trying to butter me up by feigning interest in my recreational pursuits."

"That's not entirely true—I happen to be rather interested in nature myself. Is it so hard to believe that I would enjoy discussing it with someone who has a similar interest? Most of my classmates think it is a complete waste of time, so I don't get to talk about it much at home."

He eyed me suspiciously. "I already said I wasn't going to tell your brother—this little act is a complete waste of time."

"I am not lying about my interests and I resent your implying otherwise." I was getting irritated, extremely fast. "Just because I didn't know what a grizzled bear was—"

"Grizzly bear—not grizzled."

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't make fun of my English!"

"I wasn't—I was correcting you."

"That is the exact same thing!"

"It isn't." He actually had the audacity to smile at my anger. "But by all means if you want to go around calling them grizzled bears and look like a complete idiot—"

A sound of pure annoyance escaped me. "You are the most frustrating person I have ever met!"

"I find that hard to believe since you've obviously met your brother's girlfriend."

Adrian snorted. "He's got you there."

Clenching my jaw tightly, I tried to control my temper before I did something I might later regret. "I admit I have questions about the cost of your silence—"

"There is not cost—I can't be bought or sold." His smile twisted into the scowl I was accustomed to seeing on his face.

"Then why—"

"Maybe because Belikov doesn't have the right to pass judgment on anyone—not after getting involved with a student," he said, his voice was laced with anger, "Or maybe I was in a similar situation as yours—take your pick."

The second part of his statement startled me so much I let his comment about my brother slide; I couldn't picture the man beside me ever finding anyone who could tolerate his prickly personality. "Your family didn't approve?"

"Hers didn't." He jerked his head towards Adrian. "His won't either—it won't end well Belikova. Royals are all the same—we're good enough to die for them, but that's the only use they have for us."

"Hey!" Adrian pushed between us, glaring at the guardian. "I don't give a shit what my parents think—"

"You say that now—but when they threaten to cut you off you'll change your tune fast enough. You all do." Alto glanced over at me, glowering. "Fall back into your position—or this expedition is over."

I stopped walking, waiting for him to outpace me. Adrian glared at his back for a moment, then his eyes flicked over meeting mine. They were full of worry, as if he thought I might actually give some merit to what the guardian had said. "He's wrong—I wouldn't do that."

"I know you wouldn't—he is just a bitter man. He doesn't want to believe that the woman he loved chose money over him."

"Can't say I blame her—he's an asshole," he muttered.

"Don't you see Dusha? That's why he's the way he is," I said softly. "She threw him away—the same way Roza did with you."

"Damn it… now it's going to be really hard to dislike him." His eyes moved back to Alto; the man was almost out of sight, weaving through the trees. "I'd like to say I wasn't as resentful as he is… but it would be a lie."

I reached down and took his hand, entwining our fingers as we moved down the trail. "Be that as it may… you seem to be improving more day by day"

He smiled. "Meeting an angel tends to change a man's outlook on things—maybe that's what Alto needs."

"Whatever you do, don't mention that in front of Yeva—she's determined to find Sonya a husband, and I really do not think I could stomach being related to that man."

He leaned forward, his voice a teasing whisper as his lips brushed against my ear. "Funny—a week ago I would have said the same thing about Dimitri Belikov. Never say never, Angel—keep that in mind."

His lips were on mine before I could respond—not that I was complaining. I leaned into him, letting myself be swept away by the warm rush that accompanied his kiss. It didn't matter what anyone said—not Alto or Roza or even Dimitri—they could doubt his motivations and make their dire predictions until they were blue in the face. The magic that existed between us was a real, tangible thing—I could feel it racing through me, every time we touched, and nothing would ever convince me otherwise. I believed in him, and I could only hope that in time, my brother would see the light and accept Adrian the same way I'd accepted his Roza—with an open heart and no questions asked.

The distant sound of Alto's angry sounding voice shouting 'Belikova' finally snapped us out of our far too brief interlude; Adrian chucked against my lips before he pulled away. "Guess we should try and catch up, huh? He sounds pretty pissed off."

"He has no one to blame but himself—after all, he's the one who stormed off on his own. It is not our fault we got… distracted." I said, smiling as I slipped my hand into his.

Alto hadn't gone far—we caught up in a matter of minutes. He was leaning against the trunk of a tree staring off into space; he straightened as we approached him, shooting a dark look at both of us. "Took you long enough. If you hadn't wasted so much time we'd already be inside."

It took me a minute to process what he meant; when I did, a chill ran down my spine. He hadn't been daydreaming at all…he'd been staring at a shadowy recess at the base of the mountain that was perhaps twenty feet away from the spot where we stood.

Eyeing the entrance, I realized I'd been so focused on getting there that I hadn't actually thought about the actual act of going in. I'd focused on conquering my fear and the myriad of other emotions that sprang up at the thought of visiting the spot where Dimitri had died and been resurrected as a monster, but I hadn't stopped to think about what the site might actually be like. I was unprepared for what lay before us—which wasn't a good thing for someone like me. You see, I have always had a bit of a problem with my imagination. It is extremely fertile—to the point of being overactive, which sometimes isn't the best thing.

Now was definitely one of those times.

I'm often prone to flights of fancy; I hear something, and immediately, my mind reacts by conjuring up images of how things might play out. Nine times out of ten, it bypasses any positive outcome and focuses on the worst case scenario, as pessimistic as that might seem. It is why I often overreact and jump to the wrong conclusion—the way I'd done with Adrian in the storeroom. Even more problematic is the way my imagination exaggerates certain things—like the time when I was ten and Mama told us she'd seen a stray dog near the meadow where we always played. It was an innocent enough statement; she wanted us to be careful when we were outside and to avoid the animal, but immediately my mind kicked into overdrive, concocting images of a giant, rabid beast—it was a hellhound of nightmarish proportions. I scared myself so much that I was terrified to go outside alone—even just to get the laundry from the line seemed like a dangerous thing to do. When I actually ran into the dog a week later on the outskirts of the yard, my automatic response was to scream; I don't know who was more scared that day—me or that poor old half blind poodle with its coat full of knots and burrs.

As we traipsed across the scrub grass approaching the dark mouth of the cave, my imagination kicked into overdrive—it summoned up all kinds of images that filled me with tension, making it hard to breathe. Paintings I had studied in art appreciation class flickered through my mind—works by Bosch and Memling that depicted Dante's version of hell—lost souls being tortured in the cavernous depths of purgatory. I shuddered, trying to shove the images aside. Don't get me wrong—logically, I knew that the cave wasn't some kind of portal that led straight to hell; there wouldn't be pits of fire and the air would be stifling hot, laced with the scent of brimstone—but the mind can be very funny thing. In moments of stress, it often latches on to things it would not normally believe. For me, this—unfortunately—was one of those times.

I watched as Stan disappeared into the darkness; a heartbeat later, Adrian was gone too. "Abandon hope all ye who enter here," I murmured, then took a deep breath, stepping inside.

Reality was almost a letdown compared to what I'd been expecting.

The dim light filtering in from outside revealed nothing more than a narrow tunnel made up of rough stone; it disappeared into blackness around a bend about six feet ahead of us. As Alto approached the curve, he flicked on his light, not waiting to see if we were following. He didn't get very far—he stopped abruptly as he rounded the corner; I watched as he paled, an expression that was almost…panicked…darting across his face. The beam from his flashlight was visibly shifting—jerking slowly from side to side.

His hands were shaking.

I flicked on my flashlight, moving closer to Adrian as we advanced towards Alto, sweeping the beam along the walls, but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, other than a narrow recessed area along the wall that had escaped my first cursory glance.

"What? Is something wrong?" Adrian's eyes raked around the area before darting up to mine, a look of confusion on his face. I shrugged; there didn't seem to be anything other than a few loose pebbles and the stone floor of the tunnel—hardly things that would merit the stunned look on the guardian's face.

Alto's entire body was stiff and rigid with tension—completely at odds with the soft murmur of his voice. "This is where it happened."

He didn't need to elaborate—his words evoked an icy tremor that prickled down my spine. This was the spot where my brother had lost his soul. I froze, my eyes dropped immediately to the ground, searching the dust and rubble for evidence to confirm his words—however, there was absolutely nothing there to see. It seemed…wrong…somehow—shouldn't there be something that indicated the magnitude of what had taken place there? I couldn't fathom that not even a bloodstain remained to mark the spot where my beloved brother had died.

"They were waiting in that alcove," Alto said, gesturing towards the dark recess that I'd noticed. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out across his brow, as if he were reliving the event all over again. "Three of them. Alberta said to get the others out… I thought they could handle it—they were the best we had."

I glanced back at the mouth of the cave, trying to blink away the hot tears that filled my eyes. Six feet. He had fallen six feet from safety. Six more lousy feet and Dimitri would have been with his Roza—was that what he thought as he lay there dying, taking his last breath? A sudden onslaught of emotion hit me—empathy for Roza; it twisted my heart painfully in my chest and made my tears break free. I tried to imagine what she must have felt, standing there and watching as the man she loved was attacked. Horror, of course, and helplessness, but I knew there was so much more—all I had to do was remember the way she'd looked at Dimitri's memorial. The desolate look in her eyes and the tremor in her voice as she recounted what had happened confirmed it. As she spoke, her mask had slipped away, revealing the full weight of her grief; she'd been a woman that was broken beyond all hope of repair. Dimitri wasn't the only one who'd lost his soul that night—his Roza had lost a part of hers too.

As if he knew the path my thoughts were traveling, Alto spoke, pulling my gaze his way. His eyes were bright—almost feverish looking as they met mine. "Hathaway tried to get back to him—I stopped her. Maybe if I hadn't…things would have been different."

I closed my eyes as his voice trailed off, forcing myself to take a slow, deep breath. My initial reaction was to lash out at him—to punish him for the part he'd played in what my brother had become. But I couldn't—Dimitri wouldn't want me to, but more importantly, I was finally grasping something that had completely escaped me for a very long time. It was not fair for me to blame anyone but Dimitri for what had befallen him—the moment he had agreed to enter the cave, he'd known what could happen. He had known what my grandmother had seen in vision all those years ago, but he must have decided that saving all those lives was worth risking his own.

"It still would have happened," I said softly. "He knew the risk he was taking, Guardian Alto. From the moment he set foot in this place, his fate was sealed. You…Alberta… Roza… none of you bear any responsibility for what happened to him. He knew what was at stake—it was his choice."

Adrian's arms slid around me, pulling me into a comforting hug. "He's fine now, Vik—good as new. Probably better than he was before since now he doesn't have to hide his relationship with Rose."

"I know." I buried my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and letting the scent of him soothe my tension away. "Everything happens for a reason, right? No matter how horrible it might be."

After a moment or two, Alto cleared his throat. "We should keep moving—the others have probably already reached the chamber where most of the fighting took place."

I stepped away from Adrian, nodding as I swiped at my eyes. "Just give me one minute, please—there is something I need to do."

I dropped my bag, kneeling down beside it, rooting through the contents searching for the box of chalk I'd commandeered from the storeroom. Pulling out a piece, I whispered a quiet prayer of thanks to God for allowing Dimitri to reclaim his soul as I marked the spot where he had died with a cross and his name. I knew it would fade away in time—chalk doesn't last forever—but at least for a little while there would be evidence of what had happened here and proof of the great sacrifice my brother had made.

Adrian's hand slipped into mine as we started moving around the curve, going deeper into the tunnel; his warm, sturdy grip helped me fight my way free of the dark, depressing feelings that threated to overwhelm me. The press of his long, graceful fingers against mine dispelled the image that kept popping up in my head—one of Dimitri, fighting frantically to live.

"How much further is it?" he asked.

"Five minutes or so—maybe a little more." Alto studied the juncture in front of us, frowning as he played his light across the two tunnels before finally choosing the one on the left.

"You do know where we're going, right?" Adrian asked, sarcasm coloring his words.

I squeezed his hand, shushing him. "Let him concentrate, Dusha." I could easily understand his unease at Alto's hesitancy—to be honest, I felt it too. The last thing I wanted to think about was the possibility that the guardian might take a wrong turn, getting us lost in the process. However, at the same time, it was easy for me to imagine how difficult it must be for Alto—it couldn't be an easy task, remembering every twist and turn that had been made while in the middle of battle. All we could do was give him time to think, hoping and praying for the best.

The further we went, the more I began to notice the chill in the air; not only that, but it smelled funny—faintly metallic with an underlying scent that was the strangest mixture of sour and yet at the same time, somehow sweet. I inhaled deeply, trying to figure out what it was—it was almost familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

Adrian noticed me sniffing; he did the same, immediately wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Ugh—it stinks in here. I didn't know caves reeked."

"Neither did I—this is the first time I've dared venture inside one."

Alto glanced over his shoulder at me. "Are you afraid of dark, scary places Belikova?"

I arched a brow at his snide tone of voice; obviously his momentary lapse of being remorseful had played its course—he was already back to behaving like a jerk. "Hardly. When we were younger, my grandmother had…a dream. She saw my brother dying in a cave, so my sisters and I always avoided them—we were afraid we would end up getting lost and Dimitri would try and find us. None of us wanted to be responsible for leading him to his death."

His shoulders tensed—I could tell by the look on his face that he regretted his scornful comment. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." I shrugged, dismissing it; he was a rude, arrogant man, but I could tell the apology was sincere, so there was no point in letting my irritation linger or making a big deal of it.

We lapsed into silence as we walked, only this time, instead of appreciating it, I found myself wishing that one of them would speak. The intense quiet was only broken by our footfalls, and that faint sound wasn't enough to keep the silence from pressing down on me like a weight; it was grating on my nerves, making me feel anxious—when coupled with the darkness that surrounded us, it played on my senses in a way that left me feeling adrift.

The word 'dark' is really an understatement; it is far too mild for what surrounded us. It does not do justice to the complete lack of light that you experience inside a cave. When I glanced away from the faint shine our flashlights, all I could see were the strange white images your eyes make when there is no light. It took me a few minutes to grasp the fact that if I glanced up at the ceiling or over to the side, I had to move my flashlight in the direction I wanted to see. And that's another thing—the flashlights had seemed so bright back in the in the storage room when I tested them, but here, surrounded by stone, their beams were as insubstantial as the dim glow a lightning bug makes on a warm summer night. I got the hang of it, eventually, but it felt unnatural to move my hand before I turned my head.

I kept glancing around, expecting to see something of interest—on television, caves are always full of sharp pointy rocks that hang from the ceiling or sprout up from the floor, but there was nothing to see except an endless expanse of rough looking rock. I made the mistake of mentioning it aloud—more to break the accursed silence than out of a desire for an answer. Immediately Alto perked up, launching into a lecture on the difference between a 'live' cave and a 'dead' one—we were in the latter of the two, which seemed appropriate when you considered what had taken place there.

The guardian was still rambling—he'd moved on to talking about the ecology of live caves—when Adrian groaned.

"Okay—seriously. What in the hell is that smell?" Pulling his hand from mine, he covered his nose and mouth. "It's going to make me puke."

He was right. The smell that had been faint and fleeting at first, was now much, much stronger—almost overpoweringly so. It was thick and oily—like the smoke a cheap cigar makes, clinging to the inside of my nose. I tried to breathe through my mouth—immediately realizing my mistake when I gagged. Now I could practically taste it coating my tongue.

"An animal probably got stuck somewhere in here and couldn't find its way out. The temperature this far in stays the same pretty much year round, so it wouldn't decompose as quickly as it would out in the forest. "

It took me a minute to process what Alto meant; when I did, I gagged again. I was tasting death. I bent over, placing my hands against my knees as I fought against the wave of nausea that was clawing its way up my throat—deliberately taking short, shallow breaths and trying desperately not to swallow,

Oblivious to the fact I was dangerously close to throwing up, the guardian held up his hand to silence us. "Hear that?"

I didn't hear anything—not at first. I was too busy trying to conquer my body's determination to expunge the contents of my stomach.

"It's Alberta—they must have come in the back way." He started walking again, at a faster pace.

"Hey—wait up, she's sick," Adrian said, reaching over to stroke my back. "You all right?"

"I'll be fine. Just a little queasy." I forced a smile, straightening up. "We better hurry or we'll lose sight of him."

A moment later, I picked up the sound of voices, though they sounded sort of hollow and far away. He was right, it was definitely Alberta—it sounded like she and my grandmother were arguing about something, but their words were indecipherable. Alto trained his light down the tunnel; ahead of us, I could see a wall of rubble—which immediately added another worry to my ever growing list. "How sturdy is this place?"

"It will be fine—" he said dismissively, "—that happened during the fighting." He shifted his flashlight, moving it lower to illuminate a small opening near the floor. "Your grandmother and the others are on the other side—we'll have to crawl through."

I ducked down, peering through the hole; it made a big difference—suddenly, I could hear their voices much clearer than they'd been a moment before.

"Ms. Belikova, I'm sorry but you cannot go wandering off without us—we only mapped out the passages we used—not the entire cave system. We have no idea where the other branches lead or what kind of hazards there might be—unstable passages… drop offs—"

"And I am telling you that I have no choice! There is a spirit here—one that cannot rest. You must stop talking and leave me in peace so I can find it!"

"I will use force if I have to—"

"Grandmother," I called out, "please stop being difficult!"

The arguing came to an immediate halt. "Viktoria? I told you not to come here! Get out—turn around and go back the way you came. Immediately!"

I scoffed at the very thought. "Don't be ridiculous—I already saw where Dimitri was lost and I'm handling it just fine. You should have more faith in my ability to—"

I stopped mid-sentence, distracted by a sudden movement to my left—on the outskirts of my peripheral vision. Turning my head, I swung the beam of my flashlight around, playing it along the wall.

At first, I didn't see anything other than the rough stone—then the beam of my light caught some kind of mineral deposit or something. There were tiny chips of whatever it was in the rock, sparkling as the light passed over them. I was prepared to write it off as just that—either Alto or Adrian's flashlight must have caused a reflection that caught my eye; I started to turn back to the opening, but it happened again, much closer than before. This time when I focused on the wall… I spotted it.

It was a flicker of gray—as insubstantial as a wisp of smoke—undulating in the faint beam of my light, disappearing then reappearing right before my eyes. I glanced over at Adrian to see if he'd lit a clove, but he was just standing there, still covering his mouth and nose—watching me with a puzzled look on his face.

"Vik? You okay?"

I froze; the smoke had shifted, moving when I did. Now it was hovering between us—and it was changing shape as I watched. It thickened and stretched, slowly growing into a tall, willowy form. Icy waves of panic hit me, setting off my body's fight or flight impulse as adrenaline surged through my veins. I didn't want to see this. Not now. Not here. Not ever.

"Viktoria?" Yeva's voice was closer, like she was calling through the opening. "Answer me!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, dropping the flashlight so I could press my fingers against my closed lids. White spots flickered across the inside of them, but the gesture didn't help—when I opened my eyes, the specter was still there. Only now…it had a lumpy, distorted looking face.

I opened my mouth, but my ability to speak had vanished; in retrospect, that was probably for the best since I was on the verge of screaming—and once I started… I would never stop. This was a million times worse than the hellish visions my mind had conjured—because this was the one thing I feared most in all the world.

"Vika…what's going on? Talk to me, sweetheart."

I didn't answer him; it was strange, but even though panic was crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe, I could not pull my eyes away from the flickering will-o-wisp shape. I wanted to—oh God, how I wanted to—but it was impossible to look away. It was like the time I'd accidentally rested my hand against a hot burner on the stove—my brain and reflexes had instantly reacted, demanding I jerk my hand away, but the shock I'd felt had rendered me helpless, completely unable to move. I'd stared dumbly at my hand on the burner until Mama jerked me backwards. That's how I felt again—completely unable to do anything but watch as the figure before me became more solid, its features sharpening and taking form like a photograph slowly developing, becoming clearer and more focused with every beat of my heart.

It was a girl—a beautiful, sad faced wraith, staring at me with a look of heartbreaking longing on her face. Her mouth formed words, but I couldn't hear them—all I could do was stare.

"Yeva, her aura is all over the place—" I blinked as the beam of his flashlight hit my face; I could hear him speaking, but it seemed distant and far, far away. "Jesus Vika, calm down."

Alto crouched down, staring me in the face. "Belikova…Belikova! Snap out of it!"

A word came to me, unbidden, circling round and round in my head. It was one I remembered from the songs my grandmother had sung to me—lullabies that her uncle had taught her when she was small, in a language I didn't understand. But somehow…I knew what that one word meant. No matter how much I wanted to, I could not deny what I saw. It came out a strained, raspy whisper, but somehow Yeva managed to hear it.

"Mulo."

Ghost.

"What was that? What did she say?" Yeva's voice was closer, but still so far away.

The ghost moved, shifting from side to side; I watched, full of tension as it hovered in place for a moment before disappearing directly into the wall a few feet away. Despite my fear, I could not stop myself from moving—the figure was like a siren, luring me to follow. Just like the sailors who heard the mermaid's deadly song in the old tales, it was impossible for me to resist. Scooping up my flashlight, I stepped closer to the wall—I was surprised to see that there was a recessed alcove similar to the first one we'd seen back near the entrance, only this one wasn't just an indention in the wall—it angled backwards forming a narrow passage that branched off into another tunnel.

I didn't stop to consider what might happen or what could be waiting in the dark—if I paused for even a second, I knew I would lose my nerve. I just acted, trying not to think about how incredibly foolish I was being. Turning sideways, I shimmied through the opening and into the tunnel beyond. Alto shouted out for me to stop, but I did not slow my steps—in fact, I moved faster, afraid he would catch up and slow my progress. The beam of my flashlight revealed several offshoots leading to what I assumed were other tunnels, but I barely glanced at them—the only thing that mattered to me was keeping the dim, flickering figure in sight. It appeared to be waiting at the end of the tunnel—lingering at a juncture that split off into two directions. Flickering between them, she seemed almost indecisive before finally vanishing down the tunnel on the right.

I followed at a fast jog—practically running, not paying any attention to anything other than the figure that drifted a few feet in front of me. My fear was slowly dissipating—replaced by a burning need to know where the spirit was leading me and what she'd been trying to say. About ten feet in, the tunnel opened up into a small chamber that was perhaps ten feet wide and twice as long; the floor was littered with discarded items that were scattered about haphazardly—as if their owners had left in a hurry, without taking time to gather their belongings. The beam of my light swept across what looked to be a tattered sweatshirt; a few feet away was an old battered paperback and what looked to be a large wad of paper that had been tossed down by the far wall. I frowned, watching the ghost slit back and forth between the crumpled paper and the book—its movement becoming more and more erratic with each second that ticked past.

Moving to the wall, I crouched down and grabbed the crumpled up wad of paper, tucking my flashlight between my cheek and my shoulder as I tried to smooth out the wrinkles against the hard surface of the floor. It was a map of Montana—the location of Saint Vladimir's was circled in bright red; there was a small x on the far right boundary of the circle—presumably marking the cave that I was in. I glanced up at the ghost, frowning—she'd moved to hover over the book and was staring at me with an irritated look on her pale, translucent face.

I crawled over, scooping up the book and examining the cover—it was just an ordinary paperback, the kind you might pick up at an airport to pass the time while you waited for your flight. I'll admit I was confused as to what its relevance might be; it had obviously been left by some human explorer—I couldn't imagine any Strigoi reading the trashy kind of romance novel that I held in my hands. I was on the verge of setting it down when the ghost vanished, reappearing a few inches in front of my face. My reaction was instantaneous—I shrieked, jerking backwards in surprise, throwing the book at her as my ass hit the ground.

"Don't do that—" I hissed—stopping abruptly as she moved away from me, hovering over the book again; something had been dislodged when I threw it—several squares of paper were scattered across the ground. I grabbed the closest one—immediately freezing as I processed what it was I was holding.

A grainy, black and white photograph—of Alberta Petrov.

I moved to the next one, then the next—Emil. Dimitri.

The final photograph was someone I had not met, but nevertheless, I knew who it was—I'd seen him in my vision, and his resemblance to my grandmother was almost as strong as my own. Savva.

My eyes flicked across the pictures—I knew enough about photography to ascertain from the quality that they'd been taken at long range… but why?

"Is this what you wanted me to find?" I glanced up—but the ghost was in flight again, moving back down the tunnel in the direction we'd come from. I shoved the photographs in the book, cramming it in my back pocket—then grabbed up the map, scrambling to my feet, trying to fold it one handed as I ran. By the time I reached the central chamber she was halfway down the other corridor; I put on a burst of speed, trying to keep her in sight.

She wasn't waiting for me to catch up this time—she didn't slow or hover. Instead she moved almost sporadically, disappearing then reappearing father and father ahead of me—twice I lost sight of her completely. After the second time she reappeared in the distance, I didn't dare look away for even a moment—I was afraid that if I did, I might lose track of her for good. If I'd been able to glance down, I might have seen the patch of loose pebbles that were strewn along the ground in time for me to avoid them or to at least slow down—but as it was, I hit them at full speed, immediately losing my balance. My flashlight flew out of my hand as I fell, clattering against the rocky floor somewhere further down the tunnel. It flickered once, and then went out just as I slammed against the ground.

I gasped, instantaneously scrabbling forward, my fingers searching along the ground for the cool metal of its handle. It wasn't there—how far could it have bounced? A foot… maybe two or three, given how fast I'd been moving. Fighting against the overwhelming sense of dread that was threatening to choke me, I swept my hands along the floor, searching from side to side—crawling forward a few inches at a time. My breath was coming in short bursts—I was practically panting. I had to calm down before I hyperventilated—passing out in the dark was something I refused think about.

I stopped moving.

Closing my eyes—a pointless gesture, but one I made, nonetheless—I took a slow, deep breath, then another. My eyes immediately began to water as I coughed—the horrible smell seemed much stronger, something that had escaped my notice when I was running.

"Be calm," I whispered. "Find the flashlight. The battery got knocked loose—that's all. The smell doesn't matter. Focus on finding the flashlight."

I tugged the collar of my shirt up over my nose, taking another deep breath, then I began to search again, moving slower this time. A foot or so in front of me, my left hand brushed against something—and it wasn't the metal casing of the flashlight. I jerked my hand back, recoiling, straining to make my eyes see what it was, even though there was no light. When my eyes starting aching, I forced myself to move, gingerly stretching out my hand again. My fingers brushed the object—it was firm, and yet somehow, pliant, moving beneath my fingertips. Scooting closer, I moved my hand higher, trying to figure out what it might be, hesitantly poking the object before jerking my hand back.

My flashlight flicked, illuminating the tunnel for less than a minute. I gasped, scrambling backwards as fast as I could. The light went out—and stayed out—just as I felt the air shift directly in front of me.

Fingers brushed against my cheek.

That's when I started screaming.

A/N Not nearly as long as my usual updates, but every once in a while I write a passage that just screams 'STOP! STOP HERE! NOT ANOTHER WORD!'. That's what the last two sentences did in this chapter, lol.

Dimitri's Secret Lover asked a question in a review for Ch 74 of the VA Drabbles that I'm going to answer here… for reasons.

Dimitri's Secret Lover chapter 74 . Feb 21: Hmmm where did you get this idea from?

I tend to write a lot of drabbles and one shots that accompany my ongoing fics—sort of behind the scenes stuff—though I don't post/publish them all. In the tray beside me on my desk, I have probably 250 or more handwritten drabbles that coincide with my ongoing stories that I may or may not add to the collections—it just depends on when I get around to typing them up and how I feel about them in general. The Tasha/Evette drabble was one of those—I wrote it at the same time I wrote chapter 6 of this fic, then I lost track of it in my stacks of notes until I did a little tidying up. Anyway… to answer your question, it will eventually tie into this fic. Remember in chapter 6… Vika had a vision outside the council chambers:

As the large wooden doors closed behind us I faltered, a soft sound of pain escaped me; the pressure in my head was so great I could barely see. There were horrifying things flashing through my mind—images of blood and death that couldn't be unseen. The dark haired woman's body was laid out before me, her life's blood draining away from the gaping wound at her throat; I watched as her beautiful blue eyes dulled, gaze locked on eternity. "Make it stop... please... Grandmother... help me..."

Tasha will go to trial while Vika is at court. By voting the way she did—against her cousin—Evette set a chain of events in motion that can't be undone. Now…whether or not Vika's vision will play out the way it appeared the day she had it… well… you're just going to have to wait and see. ;o)