Dear Diary,

Adrian's inhalation of breath was loud in the quiet aftermath that followed my statement. It was easy enough to imagine the path his thoughts traversed at hearing he would save the life of the very man who had stolen away Roza, leaving his heart battered and broken. Shock. Denial. Wonder.

I stared at him, not blinking—trying to ignore the tiny voice inside me that wondered what would motivate such an act of courage on his part; logically, I knew the reason didn't matter—he would save my brother's life, that was the important thing—but it did not quite the question that my emotions demanded an answer to. It was one I would never ask, but always ponder—would Adrian save Dimitri's life for Roza… or for me?

"Swear it child—swear this is true and not some platitude to ease my suffering." Yeva's voice sounded stronger—the tremor was gone.

"I have seen it. There is a woman with him… a pale, beautiful woman with eyes like the North Sea and hair like the wings of a crow. Savva's maliy ptitsa will restore the woman… and Adrian will restore my cousin to his dhampir form." My voice sounded strange—still touched with the vague, dreamy quality that Yeva so often used when spouting prophecy; it was fitting since the words were not my own—the cryptic message came from somewhere… from something… other than me. It rang with the strength of surety and truth—a balm for my grandmothers wounded, aching soul.

Petrov made a noise—it was not quite a gasp, but I had no other name the tremulous sound that escaped her. "Sofiya. He is with Sofiya Badica."

I sat up, pressing my fingers against my temples in an attempt to ease the throbbing. The name reverberated through me, prickling along my skin. "She is involved. With all of it. I don't know how—"

"The Strigoi Rose killed in Spokane was a Badica," Emil's voice was quiet, but the words were sharp and tight. "We suspected he was one of the ones involved in the attacks on the Royal households."

Yeva's head shot up, but she remained silent.

"Isaiah Badica." Petrov said slowly, staring at my grandmother with a look of horror on her face. "You know what this means."

Yeva nodded her head.

Adrian frowned, his eyes darting between the two women. "Well how about sharing with the rest of the class, ladies?"

"The was the last person Savva saw Sofiya with before she disappeared… was Isaiah Badica." Yeva shook her head, closing her eyes. "And if the Royal council learns of the connection and figure out what it means… they will not give us a chance to restore her. They will order the guardians to hunt her down and kill her as soon as they hear the news—and my Savva will die in the process."

I frowned. "She's just another Strigoi… why would they bother?"

Her gnarled fingers closed around the cross pendant that rested against her chest. "Sofiya and Isaiah Badica swore revenge against anyone who helped cover up what happened to her. I would venture a guess that if you looked closely enough at the lineage of the households that were attacked… all of them would be closely tied to the men and women on the Royal Council and the disciplinary board of Saint Basil's—the ones who allowed Sofiya's rapists to walk free." Her gaze locked with Petrov's. "If you tell the guardian council, they will share the news with the Moroi. You will be responsible for Savva and Sofiya dying before we have a chance to give them back all that they have lost. Once restored to their former selves… they could reclaim the happiness that was stolen from them."

"But one of the attacks was on the Badica's—they wouldn't attack their own kin," I protested.

"Wouldn't they? You are thinking like a dhampir, Viktoria… not like a Strigoi. They are vengeful creatures—they stop at nothing to protect what they consider 'theirs'. Look at how Dimitri protected his Roza, even when he was beyond the capacity to feel the love they once shared. Isaiah Badica was no different—he would protect his fledgling at all costs."

"But what does that have to do with—"

"Shortly after Sofiya disappeared, when her father learned the truth of what had happened… he sent guardians out searching for her—determined to put an end to her monstrous existence, believing it was what his daughter would want. Two weeks later, there was an attack on the Prince's home—his wife and all the staff were slaughtered, and when the carnage was investigated, they found the severed heads of the men he'd sent to track Sofiya down. They left Prince Badica gravely wounded, but alive—letting him survive the massacre was an even crueler act than killing him. For the rest of his days he had to live with the knowledge that his own actions had played a part in the death of his wife and all those innocent lives."

"He never answered any questions about the attack—he claimed he couldn't remember," Alberta piped in, "he stepped down and passed the title along to a younger family member, and became a recluse, rarely leaving his estate."

I still didn't see what the story had to do with what we'd been discussing; I opened my mouth to say as much, but Yeva anticipated my action, speaking up before I could give voice to what I'd been thinking.

"If Isaiah and Sofiya killed her own mother and left her father to suffer in that way… do you really think they would have any qualms about disposing a handful of distant relatives? Especially if one of them was somehow tied to the mockery of justice she was given."

"This actually gives us a lead to follow—knowing who was on the disciplinary board at Saint Basil's during that time frame means the guardians can focus on upping the protection of anyone who is still at risk," Emil offered.

Alberta nodded. "I'll call Zykov and see if he can hunt down the information—if he can't, it should be easy enough to search the Royal Council's records and see who they appointed to the board."

"It doesn't fit in with the attack here—" I pointed out, "—or the missing guardians." I was starting to wonder if my theory had been all wrong in light of what they said.

"They might be unrelated, but my gut instinct is that they're tied together." Petrov grimaced, shaking her head. "There are too many coincidences for them to be unrelated—like the timing of the attacks and the information they would have had to obtain. And if they aren't connected…that means we have two completely separate groups of Strigoi banding together and staging attacks. That seems a little farfetched, given their history of sticking to the shadows."

"But if Roza killed this Isaiah, he couldn't have been involved on the attack here." I hated stating the obvious, but they all seemed to be missing the fact that a dead Strigoi couldn't have headed up the raid.

"When one Strigoi falls, another steps up to take the reins—it is what Dimitri did with Galina, is it not?" Yeva said, her voice low, filled with some emotion I could not quite grasp. "If working with whoever was behind the attack and inducting Guardians into their ranks would further his own goals, Isaiah Badica would certainly take part—and I am sure Sofiya would remain in contact with that person, since she had a vested interest in bringing down the wards here."

Alberta's eyes met my grandmother's, her expression almost mournful. "Savva. She wanted to reclaim her guardian."

"Precisely—and the fact that he has considered himself her guardian since he was a young, young child is not likely to have faded away just because they are Strigoi. He will protect her to the death, fighting against anyone who tries to harm her, no matter who they might be."

"Even against his beloved Aunt?" I asked softly. I hated the thought of putting her in the line of danger, but the fact was, my grandmother might be the one thing that could give Adrian and Dimitri the extra edge they would need if they were going to succeed—and over the last few days she had proven that age had done nothing to lessen her considerable skills. "I think perhaps seeing you might distract him just enough to give us the upper hand, grandmother. Especially if something happened that made him start to consider your age and the fact he could extend your life eternally."

Yeva arched a brow, her lips curving up in a small, pleased smile. "This is true—and I happen to be exceptional at playing the part of an old, ailing woman. Very good, Vika—I am proud of your cunning."

I nodded my head in acknowledgement of the compliment. "You have taught me well."

"So… we are all in agreement then? We will handle the situation from behind the scenes, without involving the council?" Emil addressed all of us, but his eyes were on Petrov; he reached over, resting her hand against her back. "It is not as if you could present it to them right now… you would have to disclose that we were basing our theories on the mystic visions of an old woman and a teenage girl—"

"And when they got done laughing at me, they'd remove me from my position."

I was momentarily distracted by the look on Alberta's face; her stern expression softened, replaced by a look that was one I could easily understand—one of subtle yearning. My eye's flicked downward, away from her face to Emil's hand; it was resting so low on her back that it was almost on her ass—a familiar, possessive kind of touch that I suspected conveyed far more than he realized.

"The only thing that worries me is the fact they've probably learned about the restorative power of Spirit. If so, they are sure to be disturbed—unsure if it is true, and wary enough to be cautious, maybe even enough so to go into hiding until they can be sure of the danger it represents. I have no idea how fast the news will spread—Viktoria, is it discussed much at Saint Basil's?" Emil looked over at me—his cheeks immediately flushed under the scrutiny of my gaze. He moved away from the woman beside him, but now that I'd noticed his gesture, the sparse distance between them only made their connection seem all the more obvious—their bodies automatically shifted to mirror each other's, and I realized how often they glanced at each other, discretely from the corner of their eyes.

I was lost in speculation for far longer than I thought—Yeva grabbed my arm, pulling me abruptly from my musings. "Viktoria… you were asked a question. Pay attention child!"

Her sharp command made my face heat; I forced my eyes to the floor of the cave, struggling to remember what the man had asked. "They discourage us from talking about it—I think they are afraid that if it becomes common knowledge that Strigoi can be saved, it will make us hesitate from delivering a killing blow. I know that I am certainly troubled by the thought that we could be giving them back their souls instead of condemning them to damnation."

"You're not taking into account that many of them chose to become Strigoi—and even if that weren't the case, we don't have the option of restoring them all. We don't have enough Spirit users to pull it off and the ones we do have aren't trained to wield a stake—in fact, I'm still rather amazed that Lissa Dragomir managed to pull it off successfully."

"We know of at least six Spirit users—" Adrian spoke up, shifting restlessly, "—if you remove Lissa from the equation and count out psycho Avery and Victor's nutty brother, that still leaves three of us that could be trained. We could form a team and—"

"No. Absolutely not. You are not going to go hunting Strigoi." I scowled at him.

"You're the one who saw me staking your cousin—"

"There is a big difference in doing it once in a controlled environment and doing it out in the field on a repeat basis, Adrian. There are too many variables—"

"I think that's his decision to make, not yours, Viktoria." Alberta's tone of voice made me tense—it held the subtle reprimand of a teacher chastising an unruly student.

"It is only natural for a guardian to look out for their charge's best interest, Guardian Petrov."

I turned to stare at my grandmother, stunned by her statement. "Yeva—"

"It is what I have seen." She shrugged, her gaze locking with mine. "I do not presume to challenge the course of fate, granddaughter, I only lean on the rudder from time to time."

"Regardless, three Spirit users are not nearly enough to restore everyone," Emil pointed out, "and you're assuming the other two would want to take part in such an endeavor."

"So we find more. We start testing for it—"

"That's already happening—all of the Academies are supposed to be re-administering the tests to any students who didn't have a clear outcome on the original elements testing. The headmistress already pulled the last ten years' worth of student files to see who was a candidate," Alberta said, shaking her head. "In all that time, only two student's didn't specialize. Lissa was one… and the other one… died more than three years ago."

Adrian tensed, shifting from one foot to the other. I glanced over at him curiously, wondering why his countenance suddenly seemed so strained; edginess that was practically radiating off of him—he was clearly ill at ease. I leaned closer to him, lowering my voice to a whisper. "What's wrong?"

"I just remembered some things I overheard when I came to Saint Vlad's the first time. People comparing Lissa and her brother—talking about how she was just as charismatic as he was… how he was a natural leader, just like she was. Some even said that if Dashkov hadn't gotten sick… that he planned on making Andre heir if he became king." He looked up, his eyes going straight to the guardians. "It was him, wasn't it? He was one too."

Petrov nodded. "If we'd known then what we know now… well… it's pretty obvious. I saw the notes from when he was tested—he had high scores across the board just like Lissa, but none stood out as more dominant. It was actually noted on the form that he hadn't specialized… but the instructor administering the test lined through it and marked him as a fire user."

"He probably compelled her… trying to hide the fact he was different." Adrian sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Shit. I can't believe Lissa never suspected—"

"Honestly, that surprises me too. In hindsight… he was a lot like you Adrian. Charming… able to talk his way out of anything."

He shrugged, his lips curving up in a wry grin. "Both of my grandmothers were Dragomirs—it must run in the bloodline."

"It does." Yeva arched a brow at him. "Obviously."

She looked entirely too smug; it made me wonder what it was that she knew but was not saying. "I do not mean to seem disrespectful towards the Queen's dead brother, but I think we are getting a little off track here. We were discussing how widely known Dimitri's restoration is—not Spirit laced bloodlines."

Emil nodded his head in agreement. "She's right. Stan is waiting on me—Viktoria, I don't suppose you happened to borrow any rope or cord from the storage room?"

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry."

"The storage room? Our storage room?" Alberta narrowed her eyes. "How in the hell—"

"She went through the ceiling," Emil murmured. "We can discuss future preventative methods to secure it later. Right now the four of you need to get moving so we can get a team down here with a stretcher."

With that, he slipped back into the tunnel, disappearing from view. Alberta was still eyeing me—probably fighting off the urge to chastise me for breaking and entering. I smiled innocently as I shouldered my duffle bag, gesturing towards the tunnel. "You are the only one who knows where we are going, Guardian Petrov… unless you would prefer I get us lost in the bowels of the earth?"

She huffed at me, shaking her head. "Fall back into rear guard—Adrian, you assist Ms. Belikova." She set off, without another word to us—but I could hear her grumbling under her breath. Her frustration at my ingenuity reminded me of Guardian Zykov, bringing a smile to my face.

The lead guardian at my Academy would be very, very pleased to hear a Saint Basil's student had outsmarted Saint Vladimir's security measures—though I knew he'd try his best not to show it. Unfortunately for him, I could read him like a book—when he looked at me, he saw my mother, which meant he couldn't hide his true feelings from me any better than he could from her.

We made the trip in silence, the only sound coming from the loose pebbles that were kicked up by the movement of our feet; the only time my grandmother asked to stop was when Adrian pointed out the small memorial I'd made to my brother's sacrifice. She glanced back at me, nodding her head to show me she was pleased, then said a quick prayer of thanks for the fact he was once again among the living.

A few more feet and the darkness around us slowly began to lighten; then we were out of the cave and it was my turn to whisper a prayer of thanks. I tilted my head back, basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sunlight—taking in a deep lungful of fresh, clean air before hurrying to catch up with the others. By the time we reached the SUV Petrov had driven in, the muscles in my calves were quivering; I collapsed with relief into the back seat, letting my head drop back against the headrest while she tried to get a signal on her cell phone.

In contrast, Adrian didn't seem the slightest bit exhausted; he was practically bouncing in the passenger seat—his mind still on the discussion I'd cut short back in the cave. He turned around sideways in the seat, smiling. "So… have they retested any of the students at your Academy? Or pulled the records?"

"They did not pull the records, they have simply been retesting all the Moroi students."

He raised his brows expectantly. "And?"

"We were told that no students showed any sign of the element…." I frowned, trying to keep my unease from showing on my face. "But one of the senior Moroi has not been seen since his testing—his parents showed up that very day and pulled him out of school."

A look of confusion flickered across his face. "Why would they do that?"

"Isn't it obvious? He must have been a Spirit user—his parents were probably afraid of a repeat of the Dashkov incident. The way he tortured Lissa… it was abhorrent." Alberta said as she started the ignition.

"Actually, he happens to be a Dashkov," I responded, softly.

"Even more reason—with Victor still at large, taking him out of school and keeping it a secret are the smartest things they could do. He had his own daughter turn Strigoi to help him escape when we had him in custody—I'm sure he'd have no qualms about using a distant family member as a way to stave off his illness."

In the back of my mind, something slowly shifted, clicking into place—but I couldn't grasp what it was. I leaned up, resting my chin on the back of Alberta's seat, trying to distract myself from the irritating feeling—it was like having something on the tip of your tongue, then forgetting what you'd intended to say. "How did he find out about Lissa? Roza does not really like to talk about what happened…"

"Lissa said he admitted to watching her for years… that he'd read things in old texts that tipped him off," Adrian offered, toying with his seat belt.

I frowned. Something about that didn't make sense, but like the illusive thought in my mind, whatever it was stayed just out of reach—which only served to increase my frustration. I sighed, sinking back into my seat, drumming my fingertips on the armrest—until Yeva reached over and stilled my hand.

"Stop that, you are driving me mad, child."

"Sorry… I just have a lot on my mind." I pressed my head against the window.

"Same—" Adrian turned around to look at me again. "I don't suppose you've got a notepad in that bag, do you? I need to make a list."

"Look in the glove box—there should be a couple and some pens in there," Alberta said.

"Ah—always prepared, huh Allie?" Perching his feet on the dashboard, he slumped down in his seat. "Okay… Dragomir is a given…"

"A given what?" I asked, leaning back up, peering over his shoulder.

"Family bloodline with spirit in it. And Dashkov…. Lazar—"

"No—Avery's mother is a Badica. I'm willing to bet she got it from the Badica line since Sonya Karp's mother was a Badica as well," Alberta offered

"Who is this Avery you keep talking about?" I glanced from one of them to the other, wondering if it was someone I should know.

"A Spirit user who tried to drive Lissa to suicide…. and to turn Adrian into a love slave." Alberta's tone was teasing as she said the last part, but still… I tensed.

"She compelled me into thinking I liked her," Adrian scowled, glaring down at the notepad. "Literally mind fucked me."

"I see…" I was irritated at myself for feeling a territorial surge of jealousy. "Add Zeklos to the list."

"Zeklos?" Alberta glanced over at me curiously.

"My father was a Spirit user… and he was a Zeklos."

"He got it from his mother's bloodline… not his father's," Yeva said.

"And that would be…?" Arian glanced over his shoulder at her, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

"One that is already on your list, obviously. She closed her eyes, making a big show of sagging down in the seat. "I am tired. Do not bother me with frivolous questions—I have given you all the information you needed."

"But your father… what family—" I began.

"The same answer applies."

"I think I have a right to know, don't you? At least about my father."

She studied me a moment, then shrugged. "Your father's mother was a Dashkov before she married… and her grandmother was a Dragomir."

"So double whammy right there. Spirit in both bloodlines." Adrian raised his eyebrows. "No wonder you're… uh… you know."

I scowled at him.

"Anton's mother was a Dashkov as well. He never mentioned what his mother's element was, but I know for certain that his father was a Spirit user—though he passed himself off as a fire user." Yeva looked sad for a moment; I wondered if she was thinking about how different things might have turned out if my great-grandfather had approved of her and not forbidden the relationship. "I have long suspected that the Dragomir family is the root of Spirit. They have always intermarried within certain families, which would explain how it has spread to the Badicas and the Dashkovs—to non-Royals as well, for that matter. I suspect if you look far enough back in any bloodline that has a Spirit user, you will find a Dragomir somewhere in their family tree.

"Hold on—is the Anton you're talking about Anton Dragomir? Mirceau Dragomir's youngest son?" The car swerved as Alberta looked over her shoulder, startled by the revelation. She quickly pulled over to the shoulder, turning around in her seat. "How do you know that they were Spirit users?"

"Anton was Dimitri and Viktoria's grandfather."

Petrov's gray eyes were wide with amazement as they flicked over to me. "That means Vasile Dragomir was their… what…great uncle?"

"Yes—he was a great deal older than Anton, his mother was Mirceau's first wife. If memory serves me… Vasile was in his late forties when Anton was born—in fact, Vasile's own son Andre was older than Anton."

Adrian whistled. "So… the old guy traded the first wife in for a newer model?"

Alberta shot him an exasperated look. "No—his first wife was killed in a Strigoi attack. He didn't remarry until their son was fully grown out of respect for her memory."

"Damn… and here I thought I was picking up some juicy gossip." Adrian smiled lazily as he winked at me. "Wonder what that makes us? The old coot was something like a great, great uncle twice removed to my grandmothers."

Yeva made a dismissive noise. "You are so far separated that there is no term for it. Lineal descent it what counts in such an issue, not collateral—and either way, no one keeps track past seventh cousins when it comes to Royal bloodlines. Anything past the fourth degree of consanguinity is an acceptable match."

"I do not understand this… consanguinity."

"Consanguinity is a term used in regards to relationships between people who share familial blood," Petrov said. "The fourth degree would be… third cousins, I think. Maybe second."

"So… we're related to Lissa?" I asked, amazed my grandmother hadn't thought to mention it before.

"She is your fourth cousin—but I am sure she has no idea of this. The Royals don't make a practice of keeping track of their dhampir kin."

Adrian chuckled. "Maybe the Dragomir line isn't nearly as extinct as everyone seems to think—looks like I might be honoring Aunt Tati's wishes after all… in a roundabout way."

Alberta arched a brow. "What do you mean?"

"She had this crazy idea that I should marry Lissa because our kids would have enough family blood to use the Dragomir name and rebuild the bloodline. With Vika's maternal grandfather being a Dragomir and her paternal grandmother being a Dashkov with Dragomir blood… if we have a kid, between my pedigree and hers… the little rugrat will probably be as much a Dragomir as Lissa and Jill."

"That would hardly matter—it would be a dhampir, remember?" I pointed out—though I couldn't help but feel pleased that he would think of such a thing.

"Times are changing, Viktoria… in the future the importance placed on such things will change," Yeva murmured.

I shot her a look—my eyes questioning. What have you seen?

She ignored it, smiling smugly as she turned to face the window. "I do not know what line Oksana has in her family tree… but I can call her and ask when we get to the Academy."

"As interesting as all this is, I don't see how it matters at the moment," Alberta sighed, turning back around and putting the car in gear. "I agreed to keep silent, but the fact of the matter remains that if there's another attack, we're going to be responsible for every life lost. That's a burden I don't particularly want on my shoulders."

"We could tell Rose and Dimitri—including them would probably be smart, all things considered," Adrian suggested, staring down at his notepad.

I frowned, shaking my head. "No. He already has enough to deal with—"

"Guarding Christian isn't exactly that difficult a job, Vik."

"That is not what she means at all," Yeva murmured, thumping the back of his seat. "We will discuss it later."

Petrov snorted, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "I know how to keep a secret, Ms. Belikova—I think my staying silent about your grandson's involvement with his student proves that."

"You have spent your life in service, Madam—some things are not as easily overlooked."

I tensed, not at all liking how ominous that sounded. "It doesn't matter—we're not telling Dimitri."

"He's one of the best we have—and from my understanding… he was pretty high ranking as one of them," Petrov said bluntly.

"Would you wish to have the sins that haunt your nightmares thrown in your face?" Yeva asked. "To be reminded of what you were… of what still lingers deep inside you?"

Petrov slammed on the brakes so fast I was thrown forward into the back of her seat. "Are you saying he's still—"

"Don't be a fool—he is dhampir… but what he went through… it left parts of him changed forever."

Petrov's gray eyes narrowed as she spun around—her face grim. "If there's the slightest chance he might—"

"You do not listen. You jump to conclusions—" Yeva snapped, glaring back at the Guardian, "—this is exactly what I meant. They have programed you to think in black and white!"

Adrian reached over, touching Alberta's shoulder; I felt the tickle of his magic as Spirit danced along my skin. "Allie—he goes out in the sun. He's a dhampir—I swear it. Just listen and stop jumping ahead to the think the worst the way Rose does."

"As an educated woman you should have already realized the changes I mean—it is really quite obvious." My grandmother looked condescending as she stared at Petrov across the space that separated the seats. "Tell me… do you know how to ride a bicycle, Guardian Petrov?"

"I—what? What does that have to do with—"

"Can you ride a bicycle?" Yeva arched a brow.

"Yes… but I haven't been on one in years, why?"

"Nevertheless, if one were put before you right now, you would be able to ride it, though you might wobble, yes? The same principle applies."

"That makes no sense—"

"Grandmother," I reached over, laying my hand on Yeva's. "Stop—there are some things that even you cannot explain." I understood what she was getting at, but there was an altogether better way of getting her point across. My eyes flicked over to Petrov, my voice stern. "Take us to the clinic. We need to talk to Olendzki—she can better explain what my grandmother means."

OLENDZKI WAS STANDING BY the reception desk when we entered, chatting with one of the members of her staff. If she was surprised by my request for an immediate consultation, she hid it well, immediately directing us down the hall to her private office. As soon as the receptionist wheeled in two extra chairs, the doctor sat down, smiling pleasantly.

"I don't suppose this is a social call…"

"It isn't. We need your expertise on a very delicate issue… one that requires complete confidentiality—"

"I assumed as much." Her gaze was curious as it moved from one face to the next—coming to rest on Adrian. "About Spirit?"

"No—about Strigoi," I said, bluntly. "I am sure that as a physician you have some opinion on the… transformation they undergo?"

"I do—most of it is hypothetical, but I did have a brief chance to examine Natalie Dashkov's body after she had been staked. I wanted to monitor it—to see if it would revert to its former state as time passed, but unfortunately I didn't have nearly enough time to perform the proper tests. I was ordered to turn the body over for burial almost immediately."

"I'm sure the council was trying to sweep the whole thing under the rug—Aunt Tatiana tried to keep it pretty hush hush." Leaning back in his chair, Adrian made a face that clearly expressed his thoughts on the issue. "She was pretty chummy with Dashkov before he went off the deep end."

"Your Aunt was actually extremely supportive of my research… most of the time. She's the reason I'm here." Olendzki's eyes flicked back to me. "But that doesn't matter. What are you wanting to know?"

"When someone is turned… physically… what would you say happens to them?"

"Besides the obvious changes like the skin, eyes and the fangs forming or elongating?" She raised her eyebrows. "Nothing—for all intents and purposes the body is stasis. Frozen in exactly the state it was before its transformation. They don't age… don't gain or lose weight—"

"And yet they grow stronger… faster—"

"Would you like to know my personal theory? I think there are significant changes that we can't see physically—things that occur on a cellular level in the syncytia."

"The what?" Adrian looked lost. I didn't blame him—I had no idea what she meant either.

Olendzki chuckled. "You'll have to forgive me, Lord Ivashkov—I have a bad habit of assuming that everyone shares my interest. The largest cells in the body are the muscle cells—you do know what those are, correct?" When he nodded, she continued. "Muscle cells contain several nuclei each—multinucleated cells are called syncytia. Those little miracle workers tell the muscle cells how to act—how to band together, making the fibers that form muscles. Thanks to the syncytia, strength-training exercises—like say...lifting weights—increase the body's muscle mass and force by changing the caliber of each individual fiber by expanding themselves, rather than by multiplying the way other cells in the body do. Does that make sense?"

I nodded slowly. "Sort of like making one giant ball of yarn as opposed to making a bunch of little balls, yes?"

"Exactly. Okay—here's where it gets really interesting," she smiled—obviously missing the way Adrian rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm. "For a long, long time, we thought that if a person stopped training they would not only lose the muscle mass they'd gained when they bulked up, but also the expanded caliber of the fibers—but recent tests have proved that hypothesis is completely wrong. The only loss is in the satellite and connective cells—the fused cells that make up the fibers remain untouched, even when there is no training or exercise of any sort ongoing. That means those cells retain the mechanisms for muscle memory—that's why a person bulks up so much faster when they start training again. The expansion to the muscle cells is permanent, even when you're inactive for a long period of time. Those cells are still working away, just waiting to be put to use again."

I glanced around—Adrian, Yeva and Petrov were staring at her with completely blank looks; it made me feel a little less ignorant for not completely getting what she was saying.

Olendzki sighed, her face scrunching up. "Hmmm… compare it to blowing up a balloon. It's hard to blow into it at first—the balloon has to reshape to hold the air, right? But if you let the air out and it shrinks, then you blow it up again, it's easier the second time around, because the balloon has already been stretched out once into the new shape. The same basic theory applies to muscles."

"Which means what? What does any of this have to do with Strigoi?" Alberta looked exasperated.

"It's pretty obvious," Adrian said in a hushed voice. "It means because of those fucked up little syn-whatsits cells…. Belikov's muscles retained the strength and speed he gained when he was turned. They remember what they learned—he's never stopped using them, he's just hidden it from everybody so they didn't jump to the wrong conclusion."

"I suspected it as soon as I heard he'd been restored." Olendzki nodded. "He probably didn't retain all of the strength and speed—but enough of it to give him a definite edge. We have no way of really knowing the physiological changes that happen when a dhampir—or Moroi—are turned. By the time a specimen is procured it's already… um…"

"Been killed," I offered.

"Yes. I don't know what makes a Strigoi, I only know the effect it has on the brain itself. It could be some sort of virus or—"

Yeva scoffed. "It is magic, pure and simple. Every single thing in nature is counter balanced. There is light and dark—good and evil. What restores a Strigoi to its prior state? What gives it life?"

"Spirit," Adrian said.

"So the force that invades the body transforming it into a immortal killing machine is the opposite of Spirit—its antithesis." Yeva looked at us all—waiting for us to catch on. When no one spoke up, she sighed, shaking her head. "The… how do you say… the shadows. The dark side of Spirit. It awakens the most evil, primal parts—"

"Impossible—if that was the case, Rose would have been turned once the darkness took her over," Olendzki interjected.

"Roza received the darkness through a psychic bond—not by draining someone or ingesting Strigoi blood while being drained." I frowned, letting Yeva's words circulate through my brain like a mathematic equation I needed to solve. They reminded me of something… but what?

Alberta shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I hate to say it… but the night Rose attacked the Zeklos boy… she did seem different."

"Well of course she did—we already know the queen's darkness pushed her towards instability—"

"No Izolda—I don't mean that. In all the years I've known her… I've never seen her move that fast. She was nowhere near Strigoi speed, mind you, but she was definitely faster than normal—and Castile could barely hold her and he's twice her size. It was like she was… possessed."

I glanced over at Adrian; he was doodling on the notepad he'd borrowed from Alberta. I reached over, snatching it and the pen out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"Hang on…" I whispered, jotting down the things that were poking at my brain.

Spirit user/spirit inside + uses it = buildup of darkness/instability/insanity

Bond mate + takes darkness = buildup of darkness/instability/insanity

I stared at the list, circling the words at the end of each line. There was a connection beside the obvious… something we were all missing.

"So you hypothesize that the root of Strigoism is what? Evil? That's a little farfetched, don't you think?" Olendzki's voice betrayed her amusement at the thought. "I can accept the insanity gave her an added boost of strength and speed—I saw the condition of the boys she attacked that night. But a high percentage of mental patients have similar experiences—there's nothing evil about it in the slightest."

The answer hit me like a ton of bricks. "Oh my God… it's trying to adapt them into what it needs!"

The silence in the room was deafening. I glanced up, locking eyes with the doctor. "Think about it—Strigoi are faster and stronger… sort of apex predators, yes? You yourself said that in Moroi the fangs grow longer—that makes them more lethal, doesn't it? And if my grandmother is right and the darkness does in fact awaken the most primitive parts of the brain, it all ties together. It's like it evolves the body into the best it can be, but the way it affects the mind is evolution in reverse, in a twisted sort of way—awakening the reptilian part of the brain."

She frowned. "Yes but—"

"Look… we know using Spirit produces the darkness right? And the darkness produces insanity in Moroi and dhampirs bonded to them—maybe the insanity is a way to get them to adapt. An insane Moroi is more likely to drain someone they are feeding on… but dhampirs don't feed on blood. If they're exposed to the darkness the way Roza was… they exhibit some of the symptoms, but their bodies can't actually make the change so they just lose themselves in the insanity!"

"That still makes it a biological change—not some sort of divine one. There is nothing evil about the process—it would be similar to the way rabies affects the host."

"Spirit has the ability to restore the soul—why is it so hard to believe that the darkness can put it into a state of torpor? Roza said that when Dimitri handled charmed silver as a Strigoi he seemed almost like his old self again—"

"Perhaps the silver acts as a counter agent to whatever the virus—"

"No—regular silver doesn't kill Strigoi. It has to be charmed by the four elements to get the job done. And it takes a stake infused with Spirit to restore them." Yeva crossed her arms, looking irritated. "The Christ was able to restore life—and he rose from the dead. Are you not a believer, Doctor?"

"No. I'm a scientist—I deal in facts, not myths. I know where Moroi magic originates—"

"Oh? You know how it came to be? Please… do tell us," Yeva said sarcastically.

"Evolution—the Moroi brain is more developed. More advanced than—"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why the Moroi? Why not dhampirs, or humans… or even penguins, for that matter?"

"I can't answer that." Olendzki's lips compressed into a thin, irritated line.

"Fine then. We will try something else. Lord Ivashkov sometimes has visions… humans might call him a psychic. Where do they come from?" Yeva's face was expressionless, but I knew what she was leading up to; I had to fight back the urge to grab her and beg her to stop.

"That's simple—I already told you, the Moroi brain is more evolved. His element allows him to tap into a portion of his brain that lies dormant in dhampirs and humans."

"And human psychics? How could they see visions if their brain is not as evolved as Moroi?"

"I don't believe in them. They're charlatans."

"I see. And dhampirs who have the sight?"

"By the sight, I assume you mean that they give readings like that Moroi woman at court... Rhonda?" The doctor's lips twitched up in a grin. "Anyone can memorize the meaning behind a deck of cards, Ms. Belikova."

Yeva stared at her for a moment, then bowed her head, her lips moving, but no sound escaping her. I cringed, tightening my hands around the notepad, wishing I could transport myself a million miles away. She rolled her head from side to side—as if loosening a crick in her neck, then began to speak slowly, her voice sounding almost as if she was talking in her sleep.

"When you were fourteen… you had a crush on Victor Dashkov. You thought he was the most handsome man in the world—especially when he kissed your hand and called you 'his beautiful little bookworm'. You cried when his engagement was announced and vowed you would never allow yourself to be hurt by love again… do you regret that choice now, Doctor… knowing the kind of man he turned out to be?"

Olendzki gasped, her pale complexion flushing. "What is this—some sort of trick?"

"Hardly. It is proof that things beyond your scope of understanding exist." Yeva slumped back in her chair, taking a shaky breath.

"That's impossible—"

"Nothing is impossible, Madam—it is only undiscovered. Given enough time I daresay you could find scientific evidence that evil exists, but first you have to believe. The Divine exists—we are surrounded by proof of it every single day, but you are so wrapped up in the 'how' and 'why', you overlook it. Take my grandson's restoration—it is a perfect example of the Divine providing us with the ultimate gift to combat evil."

"I don't see how—"

Suddenly, I understood what my grandmother meant—the problem was, Olendzki was unaware of what we'd discovered on our excursion. "We found evidence that the Strigoi are hunting down Guardians to add to their ranks. What my grandmother is hinting at is the fact that if we were able to restore all of them… we would have a group of Guardians with enhanced speed and strength—like Dimitri has."

"We could return to the old ways—how it was before we became sheep, waiting for the wolves to pick us off one by one." Yeva's eyes were full of approval as she smiled at me. "We could hunt them for a change."

The doctor's eyes widened as she processed what I'd said. "With a large number of subjects we might actually be able to learn more about the affliction as well… Through testing we could determine and isolate what it is that causes the transformation on a cellular level, we might be able to alter it… removing the negative traits and leaving only the beneficial ones."

"That's the problem with doctors—they're always teetering on the edge of becoming mad scientists and doing all kinds of screwed up experiments," Adrian muttered; Alberta choked—her face turning red as she tried not to laugh at his quip.

Olendzki pointedly ignored Adrian's sarcasm. "Speaking of tests… it might be interesting to run a few on you as well—"

"No—I do not think so." Yeva met the doctor's gaze, staring until the other woman dropped her eyes to the desk. "I am not a laboratory rat, Madam. My gift is divine—there is no science for you to discover."

"But you're an anomaly—surely you see that? Your… 'gift' as you call it indicates you can access the same part of the brain that Moroi do. Aren't you curious as to why?"

"No. I am not. What I am is lightheaded and tired, and your persistence is not helping either issue."

Immediately the doctor's brow wrinkled; she stood up, coming around the desk to lay her fingers against my grandmother's wrist. "Any pain?"

"No—perhaps my blood sugar is low. Lunch was a very long time ago."

Olendzki grabbed her stethoscope, fitting it in her ears. "I can send out for something, just let me listen to your heart first—"

"Viktoria will go—while she is there she can get the recipe Natalia promised to write down for my Olena." Her dark flicked over to me, her expression giving nothing away. "You will fetch it for me—and be sure to extend my thanks for her gracious hospitality, yes?"

I frowned, puzzled by the underlying tone in her voice; it was one not easily placed—unrecognizable to me. "Now? But—"

"You have something better to do while the doctor is examining me? Pacing perhaps, or making eyes at your kotik, wishing you were alone?"

I blushed, humiliated that she would say such a thing in the presence of others. "Yes ma'am."

"I'll come with you—" Adrian started to rise, only to be stilled by her hand.

"No… Viktoria will not worry about me if she knows you are by my side."

I opened my mouth to protest her statement—but at that moment, I realized her hand was shaking; immediately it dawned on me why I'd been volunteered—she wanted him to heal her again. Petrov had been right… the trip had taken a toll on her and she was trying to hide away her weakness from my eyes. "She's right—I'd rather you stay here in case she needs you. I'll be back before you know it."

My eyes flicked down to Yeva's hand; his gaze dropped, following mine. Immediately his eyes went slightly out of focus—he was checking her aura. As I walked away I could already feel the teasing caress of his magic. My body reacted like it was a siren's song—alluring and full of promise; it sped my pulse and warmed my skin, turning my thoughts to other things that were definitely much more intimate than the innocent healing he performed. Though the feeling was wonderful, it was also a little troubling; it was getting harder and harder to hide the way his magic affected me—if it happened in front of my brother or Roza, I feared they would be able to read my reaction far too easily.

The sun that had barely risen when we'd set out for the cave had made its journey across the sky during the hours we'd been gone. Now, it was sinking into the horizon, the shadows lengthening as darkness slowly replaced the light. The immediate area around the clinic was still quiet and devoid of activities; it wasn't until I reached the large quad that there was any sign of life. Clusters of students were scattered about—obviously taking advantage of the free time before classes began, using it to squeeze in some social time with their friends. I paid them no mind as I crossed the broad, gray flagstones—barely even noticing them until the sound of several raised voices caught my ears. After only a few days at Saint Vladimir's, I was hardly an expert on 'normal' student behavior, however I was fairly certain that the inappropriate, salacious things the boys were catcalling would be forbidden at even the most liberal of academies.

I glanced around, searching for the source of the commotion—abruptly detouring towards one of the large, covered porticos that lay along the perimeter of the green. The slatted overhead awning were interwoven with different kinds of ivy—presumably to provide shade for any Moroi students that ventured outdoors while the sun was up. It was the first time I'd really noticed they were there—we didn't have a designated outdoor eating area at Saint Basil's. At my school, any students that wanted to eat outside the cafeteria made do with the benches that were scattered around the campus or settled themselves on the grass.

As I drew closer, I spotted a cluster of students gathered around one of the large outdoor tables that were situated under the awning; from their commentary, they seemed to be greatly enjoying whatever it was the girl standing on the table was doing. A moment later when her shirt came off and was tossed into the crowd, I realized who it was and exactly what she was doing—it was Carslile, and she was performing a striptease right in front of everyone. Pushing through the mass of bodies, I reached up, grabbed her arm and roughly jerked her off the table.

"What in God's name do you think you are doing?" I hissed, jerking off my hoodie and handing it to her.

"I… I'm supposed to dance." I frowned at the vacant, faraway look in her eyes; she twisted in my grasp, breaking free as she dropped my hoodie and started to climb back up on the table.

"Oh hell no—" I snapped, jerking her back down—immediately glaring at the crowd of boys around us. "You should all be ashamed of yourselves! Clearly she is not in her right mind! How would you like it if that was your sister up there—"

I broke off abruptly as two things happened simultaneously; Carslile shoved me—hard—at the exact same moment I felt a sharp, stabbing pain lance through my skull.

Someone was pulling on magic—a lot of it.

It wasn't a soothing current like Adrian's, or even the skin prickling tingle that Lissa's magic invoked—it was foul and loathsome, like the feeling of serpents scales brushing against my skin. I glanced around, my eyes flicking from table to table. There—at the far corner of the portico, a blonde Moroi boy was staring at Carslile with a look of intense concentration on his face.

Latching onto the girl's arm, I tugged her down again—towing her after me as I made a beeline for the table. The murderous look on my face as I stormed over scattered the students seated there—all except the magics owner—who shot me a look of irritated indifference as I glared at him.

"Stop it—right now!" I snapped.

"Stop… what?" The look of feigned innocence was so contrived that my palm itched to slap it off his face.

"Stop the compulsion." I spoke slowly, drawing out each word as I tightened my grip on Carslile's arm. "I know what you are, even if your instructors do not."

He tensed—a quick, fleeting movement that was almost invisible, but he still managed to hang on to his air of aloof superiority. "What I am is a Royal Moroi. I don't answer to dhampirs."

"You will answer to the Royal Council when I tell the headmistress that you're using compulsion on a fellow student," I shot back.

"A student that agreed to let me do it—she wants to prove she's worthy."

"Worthy of what? Being made a laughing stock?"

"Worthy of being my bond mate, of course."

I froze, not believing my ears. "You have no idea what that entails!"

"I do—and if I'm going to give her the honor… she has to prove she's willing to do anything I say. Isn't that right Stacey?" His eyes flicked to the girl beside me, his smug smile still firmly in place.

"Yes sir."

"Unfortunately… I'm still not convinced. Since our little… test… was interrupted, I suppose we'll have to find some other way for you to prove it." The Moroi glanced down at his tray, his movements almost dainty as he picked up the serrated knife he'd been using and slid it across the table. "Cut your wrists for me Stacey."

Carslile grabbed for the knife, but I knocked her hand away, scooping it up before she could. "I don't think so."

Magic slammed into my mind—thick oily tendrils that demanded I succumb. I stared at the Moroi, shocked that he would attempt to exert his will over me without the slightest hesitation.

"You know what? I think I'd rather you be my bond mate—your tits are bigger. Slit your wrists—right now."

"No."

His blue eyes narrowed with irritation as he pressed his palms against the table, leaning closer to me. I could see tiny beads of sweat breaking out on his temples as he tried to bend me to his will. "Do it."

Eyes locked with his, I slowly lifted my hand; it was a feign—although I could feel him hammering at my mind, it affected me no more than an irritating fly might as it buzzed about my head. His sly smile returned. "I changed my mind—slit your throat instead."

I moved—faster than he could have anticipated—ramming the knife's sharpened point down into the table between his splayed fingers—missing the webbing between them by less than a fraction of an inch. "Using compulsion in such a manner is a crime—"

"They can't control what I do—I'll just wipe their minds. Who's going to stop me?"

"I am." I did not stop to think—I simply acted. Drawing back my fist I slammed it into his nose with as much force as I could muster. The sound of the cartilage snapping was drowned out by Carslile's scream as the compulsion on her shattered. I'd knocked him out with one punch—he slumped to the ground in a heap.

Of course as fate would have it… that's when the Guardians showed up.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates guys. Every once in a while I have to focus on muses other than my VA ones so I can make sure they don't stagnate—it happens from time to time, but I promise I'll always return to update eventually! I've been tied up (aka obsessed) with my Wanda Maximoff fics—she's just as loud as Rose and Vika and very demanding.

If anyone is interested in reading my MCU fics, they're all posted over on my A03 account (link is in my profile—same username). But be warned before you venture over to read them—they might not be your cup of tea. For the last fifty years a certain canon taboo pairing has been hinted at for the Maximoff Twins (one that was wonderfully explored in the Ultimates/1610 universe)—that's the one I write. ;o)