I felt her fear before I heard her screams.
Her nightmare pulsed into me, shaking me out of my own
dream, which had had something to do with a beach and some
hot guy rubbing suntan oil on me. Images—hers, not mine—
tumbled through my mind: fire and blood, the smell of
smoke, the twisted metal of a car. The pictures wrapped
around me, suffocating me, until some rational part of my
brain reminded me that this wasn’t my dream.
I woke up, strands of long, dark hair sticking to my
forehead.
Lissa lay in her bed, thrashing and screaming. I bolted
out of mine, quickly crossing the few feet that separated
us.
“Liss,” I said, shaking her. “Liss, wake up.”
Her screams dropped off, replaced by soft
whimpers. “Andre,” she moaned. “Oh God.”
I helped her sit up. “Liss, you aren’t there anymore.
Wake up.”
After a few moments, her eyes fluttered open, and in the
dim lighting, I could see a flicker of consciousness start
to take over. Her frantic breathing slowed, and she leaned
into me, resting her head against my shoulder. I put an
arm around her and ran a hand over her hair.
“It’s okay,” I told her gently. “Everything’s okay.”
“I had that dream.”
“Yeah. I know.”
We sat like that for several minutes, not saying anything
else. When I felt her emotions calm down, I leaned over to
the nightstand between our beds and turned on the lamp. It
glowed dimly, but neither of us really needed much to see
by. Attracted by the light, our housemate’s cat Oscar
leapt up into the open window.
He gave me a wide berth—animals didn’t like dhampirs, for
whatever reason—but jumped up on the bed and rubbed his
head against Lissa, purring softly. Animals didn’t have a
problem with Moroi, and they all loved her in particular.
Smiling, she scratched his chin, and I felt her calm
further.
“When did we last do a feeding?” I asked, studying her
face. Her fair skin was paler than usual. Dark circles
hung under her eyes, and there was an air of frailty around
her. School had been hectic this week, and I couldn’t
remember the last time I’d given her blood. “It’s been
like…over two days, hasn’t it? Three? Why didn’t you say
anything?”
She shrugged and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You were busy. I
didn’t want to…”
“Screw that,” I said, shifting into a better position. No
wonder she seemed so weak. Oscar, not wanting me any
closer, leapt down and returned to the window where he
could watch at a safe distance. “Come on. Let’s do this.”
“Rose…”
“Come on. It’ll make you feel better.”
I tilted my head and tossed my hair back, baring my neck.
I saw her hesitate, but the sight of my neck and what it
offered proved too powerful. A hungry expression crossed
her face, and her lips parted slightly, exposing the fangs
she normally kept hidden while living among humans. Those
fangs contrasted oddly with the rest of her features. With
her pretty face and pale blonde hair, she looked more like
an angel than a vampire.
As her teeth neared my bare skin, I felt my heart race with
a mix of fear and anticipation. I always hated feeling the
latter, but it was nothing I could help. A weakness I
couldn’t shake.
Her fangs bit into me, hard, and I cried out at the brief
flare of pain. Then it faded, replaced by a wonderful,
golden joy that spread through my body. It was better than
any of the times I’d been drunk or high. Better than sex—
or so I imagined, since I’d never done it. It was a
blanket of pure, refined pleasure, wrapping me up and
promising everything would be right in the world. On and
on, it went. The chemicals in her saliva triggered an
endorphin rush, and I lost track of the world, lost track
of who I was.
Then, regretfully, it was over. It had taken less than a
minute.
She pulled back, wiping her hand across her lips as she
studied me. “You okay?”
“I…yeah.” I lay back onto the bed, dizzy from the blood
loss. “I just need to sleep it off. I’m fine.”
Her pale, jade-green eyes watched me with concern. She
stood up. “I’m going to get you something to eat.”
My protests came awkwardly to my lips, and she left before
I could get out a sentence. The buzz from her bite had
lessened as soon as she broke the connection, but some of
it still lingered in my veins, and I felt a goofy smile
cross my lips. Turning my head, I glanced up at Oscar,
still sitting in the window.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I told him.
His attention was on something outside. Hunkering down
into a crouch, he puffed out his jet black fur. His tail
started twitching.
My smile faded, and I forced myself to sit up. The world
spun, and I waited for it to right itself before trying to
stand. When I managed it, the dizziness set in again and
this time refused to leave. Still, I felt okay enough to
stumble to the window and peer out with Oscar. He eyed me
warily, scooted over a little, and then returned to
whatever had held his attention.
A warm breeze—unseasonably warm for a Portland fall—played
with my hair as I leaned out. The street was dark and
relatively quiet. It was three in the morning, just about
the only time a college campus settled down, at least
somewhat. The house in which we’d rented a room for the
past eight months sat on a residential street with old,
mismatched houses. Across the road, a streetlight
flickered, nearly ready to burn out. It still cast enough
light for me to make out the shapes of cars and buildings.
In our own yard, I could see the silhouettes of trees and
bushes.
And a man watching me.
I jerked back in surprise. A figure stood by a tree in the
yard, about thirty feet away where he could easily see
through the window. He was close enough that I probably
could have thrown something and hit him. He was certainly
close enough that he could have seen what Lissa and I just
did.
The shadows covered him so well, that even with my
heightened sight, I couldn’t make out any of his features,
save his height. He was tall. Really tall. He stood
there for just a moment, barely discernible, and then
stepped back, disappearing into the shadows cast by trees
on the far side of the yard. I was pretty sure I saw
someone else move nearby and join him before the blackness
swallowed them both.
Whoever these figures were, Oscar didn’t like them. Not
counting me, he usually got along with most people, growing
upset only when someone posed an immediate danger. The guy
outside hadn’t done anything threatening to Oscar, but the
cat had sensed something, something that put him on edge.
Something similar to what he always sensed from me.
Icy fear raced through me, almost—but not quite—eradicating
the lovely bliss of Lissa’s bite. Backing up from the
window, I jerked on a pair of jeans that I found on the
floor, nearly falling over in the process. Once they were
on, I grabbed my coat and Lissa’s, along with our wallets.
Shoving my feet into the first shoes I saw, I headed out
the door.
Downstairs, I found her in the cramped kitchen, rummaging
through the refrigerator. One of our housemates, Jeremy,
sat at the table, hand on his forehead as he stared sadly
at a calculus book. Lissa regarded me with surprise.
“You shouldn’t be up.”
“We have to go. Now.”
Her eyes widened, and then a moment later, understanding
clicked in. “Are you…really? Are you sure?”
I nodded. I couldn’t explain how I knew for sure. I just
did.
Jeremy watched us curiously. “What’s wrong?”
An idea came to mind. “Liss, get his car keys.”
He looked back and forth between us. “What are you—”
Lissa unhesitatingly walked over to him. Her fear poured
into me through our psychic bond, but there was something
else too…her complete faith that I would take care of
everything, that we would be safe. Like always, I hoped I
was worthy of that kind of trust.
She smiled broadly and gazed directly into his eyes. For a
moment, Jeremy just stared, still confused, and then I saw
the thrall seize him. His eyes glazed over, and he
regarded her adoringly.
“We need to borrow your car,” she said in a gentle
voice. “Where are your keys?”
He smiled, and I shivered. I had a high resistance to
compulsion, but I could still feel its effects when
directed at another person. That, and I’d been taught my
entire life that using it was wrong. Reaching into his
pocket, Jeremy handed over a set of keys hanging on a large
red keychain.
“Thank you,” said Lissa. “And where’s it parked?”
“Down the street,” he said dreamily. “At the corner. By
Brown.” Four blocks away.
“Thank you,” she repeated, backing up. “As soon as we
leave, I want you to go back to studying. Forget you ever
saw us tonight.”
He nodded obligingly. I got the impression he would have
walked off a cliff for her right then if she’d asked. All
humans were susceptible to compulsion, but Jeremy appeared
weaker than most. That came in handy right now.
“Come on,” I told her. “We’ve got to move.”
We stepped outside, heading toward the corner he’d named.
I was still dizzy from the bite and kept stumbling, unable
to move as quickly as I wanted. Lissa had to catch hold of
me a few times to stop me from falling. All the time, that
anxiety rushed into me from her mind. I tried my best to
ignore it; I had my own fears to deal with.
“Rose…what are we going to do if they catch us?” she
whispered.
“They won’t,” I said fiercely. “I won’t let them.”
“But if they’ve found us…”
“They found us before. They didn’t catch us then. We’ll
just drive over to the train station and go to L.A.
They’ll lose the trail.”
I made it sound simple. I always did, even though there
was nothing simple about being on the run from the people
we’d grown up with. We’d been doing it for two years,
hiding wherever we could and just trying to finish high
school. Our senior year had just started, and living on a
college campus had seemed safe. We were so close to
freedom.
She said nothing more, and I felt her faith in me surge up
once more. This was the way it had always been between
us. I was the one who took action, who made sure things
happened—sometimes recklessly so. She was the more
reasonable one, the one who thought things out and
researched them extensively before acting. Both styles had
their uses, but at the moment, recklessness was called
for. We didn’t have time to hesitate.
Lissa and I had been best friends ever since kindergarten,
when our teacher had paired us together for writing
lessons. Forcing five-year-olds to spell Vasilisa Dragomir
and Rosemarie Hathaway was beyond cruel, and we’d—or
rather, I’d—responded appropriately. I’d chucked my book
at our teacher and called her a fascist bastard. I hadn’t
known what those words meant, but I’d known how to hit a
moving target.
Lissa and I had been inseparable ever since.
“Do you hear that?” she asked suddenly.
It took me a few seconds to pick up what her sharper senses
already had. Footsteps, moving fast. I grimaced. We had
two more blocks to go.
“We’ve got to run for it,” I said, catching hold of her arm.
“But you can’t—”
“Run.”
It took every ounce of my willpower not to pass out on the
sidewalk. My body didn’t want to run after losing blood or
while still metabolizing the effects of her saliva. But I
ordered my muscles to stop their bitching and clung to
Lissa as our feet pounded against the concrete. Normally I
could have outrun her without any extra effort—particularly
since she was barefoot—but tonight, she was all that held
me upright.
The pursuing footsteps grew louder, closer. Black stars
danced before my eyes. Ahead of us, I could make out
Jeremy’s green Honda. Oh God, if we could just make it—
Ten feet from the car, a man stepped directly into our
path. We came to a screeching halt, and I jerked Lissa
back by her arm. It was him, the guy I’d seen across the
street watching me. He was older than us, maybe mid-
twenties, and as tall as I’d figured, probably 6’6” or
6’7”. And under different circumstances—say, when he
wasn’t holding up our desperate escape—I would have thought
he was hot. Shoulder-length brown hair, tied back into a
short pony-tail. Dark brown eyes. A long, brown coat like
horse riders wore, not quite a trench coat. A duster, I
thought it was called.
But his hotness was irrelevant now. He was only an
obstacle keeping Lissa and me away from the car and our
freedom. The footsteps behind us slowed, and I knew our
pursuers had caught up. Off to the sides, I detected more
movement, more people closing in. God. They’d sent almost
a dozen guardians to retrieve us. I couldn’t believe it.
The queen herself didn’t travel with that many.
Panicked and not entirely in control of my higher
reasoning, I acted out of instinct. I pressed up to Lissa,
keeping her behind me and away from the man who appeared to
be the leader.
“Leave her alone,” I growled. “Don’t touch her.”
His face was unreadable, but he held out his hands in what
was apparently supposed to be some sort of calming gesture,
like I was a rabid animal he was planning to sedate.
“I’m not going to—”
He took a step forward. Too close.
I attacked him, leaping out in an offensive maneuver I
hadn’t used in two years, not since Lissa and I had run
away. The move was stupid, another reaction born of
instinct and fear. And it was hopeless. He was a skilled
guardian, not a novice who hadn’t finished her training.
He also wasn’t weak and on the verge of passing out.
And man, was he fast. I’d forgotten how fast guardians
could be, how they could move and strike like cobras. He
knocked me off as though brushing away a fly, and his hands
slammed into me and sent me backwards. I don’t think he
meant to strike that hard—probably just intended to keep me
away—but my lack of coordination interfered with my ability
to respond. Unable to catch my footing, I started to fall,
heading straight toward the sidewalk at a twisted angle,
hip-first. It was going to hurt. A lot.
Only it didn’t.
Just as quickly as he’d blocked me, the man reached out and
caught my arm, keeping me upright. When I’d steadied
myself, I noticed he was staring at me—or, more precisely,
at my neck. Still disoriented, I didn’t get it right
away. Then, slowly, my free hand reached up to the side of
my throat and lightly touched the wound Lissa had made
earlier. When I pulled my fingers back, I saw slick, dark
blood on my skin. Embarrassed, I shook my hair so that it
fell forward around my face. It was thick and long and
completely covered my neck. I’d grown it out for precisely
this reason.
The guy’s dark eyes lingered on the now-covered bite a
moment longer and then met mine. I returned his look
defiantly and quickly jerked out of his hold. He let me
go, though I knew he could have restrained me all night if
he’d wanted. Fighting the nauseating dizziness, I backed
toward Lissa again, bracing myself for another attack.
Suddenly, her hand caught a hold of mine. “Rose,” she said
quietly. “Don’t.”
Her words had no effect on me at first, but calming
thoughts gradually began to settle in my mind, coming
across through the bond . It wasn’t exactly compulsion—she
wouldn’t use that on me—but it was effectual, as was the
fact that we were hopelessly outnumbered and outclassed.
Even I knew this would be pointless. The tension left my
body, and I sagged in defeat.
Sensing my resignation, the man stepped forward, turning
his attention to Lissa. His face was calm. He swept her a
bow and managed to look graceful doing it, which surprised
me considering his height. “My name is Dimitri Belikov,”
he said. I could hear a faint Russian accent. “I’ve come
to take you back to St. Vladimir’s Academy, Princess.”