Vampire Academy: The Untold Stories

  December 30

  Portland’s a lot warmer than Chicago or Montana. Not tropical, of course. But there’s no snow, and the vibe is friendly and quirky. We stayed in a hotel while we looked for a home and now have a house with some students at Portland State University. Apparently, someone else came by just before us and wanted to rent it, but I used a little compulsion to get the landlord to give the room to us. I like it here, but that darkness keeps creeping in on me. It gets wearying sometimes, thinking of how we have months and months of looking over our shoulders and moving from city to city. Sometimes I’m still not even sure why we ran in the first place.

  December 31

  One of our housemates has a cat named Oscar. He seems to love me, and I love him back. Rose doesn’t share my affection, to put it mildly.

  January 1

  The start of a new year. I’ve swung back up again. The more we explore Portland, the more cool things I discover. Oscar visits me all the time, and it cheers me up. Rose rolls her eyes at him, but I can tell she’s happy too. We feel safe here. Rose even told me this morning: “Portland’s the place, Liss. We’ve still got to keep watch, but something in my gut tells me we’re not going anywhere for a while. No guardian would think to look for us in a hipster town like this.”

  The Meeting

  “Dimitri!”

  I turned instantly at the sound of my name, shooting a glare at the guardian approaching in the darkness. What was he thinking? Everyone out here tonight knew how essential secrecy was. It didn’t matter that he was young and excited about his first big mission. We had no room for errors, not when this was the only break we’d had in over a year. Realizing his mistake, he grew apologetic, though not nearly enough.

  “Sorry.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper and tapped his ear. “Headset’s not working. We checked the house, and they’re already gone. They must have had warning, maybe a perimeter of spies on the streets.” As his excitement returned, the young guardian—Laurence—began speaking rapidly. “I was thinking about it. They probably have a whole network of people working with them! It makes sense, right? How else have they managed to stay ahead of us for so long? There’s no telling how deep this conspiracy goes! We might be facing an army tonight!”

  I said nothing and showed nothing as I mulled over his words. It was something of a mystery how a couple of teenage girls had managed to escape detection for two years, especially when one of them was a privileged Moroi princess and the other a delinquent dhampir with a disciplinary file so long that it broke school records. When I’d joined the teaching staff of St. Vladimir’s last year and learned of the princess’s case, I’d honestly been surprised the girls hadn’t slipped up sooner. Being in league with others might explain how they’d remained hidden … and yet, in all our data collection, we’d never once had even the slightest hint that they had one accomplice, let alone “a whole network” or “an army.”

  My silence made Laurence nervous, and he no longer smiled. “It’s irrelevant now,” I told him. “And there’s no point jumping to conclusions when—”

  “Dimitri?” A female voice crackled in my earpiece. “We’ve got visuals on them. They’re approaching the intersection of Brown and Boudreaux, from the north.”

  Without another word to Laurence, I turned and headed toward the streets indicated. I heard him running after me, but his stride was shorter, and he couldn’t quite keep up. I tried to force calm as my heart rate increased, but it was difficult. This was it. This was it. We might finally have her: Vasilisa Dragomir, the missing princess, last of her line. Although I knew all guardian work was honorable—including the instruction of future guardians—part of me had longed for something more at St. Vladimir’s. When I’d learned about the Dragomir princess and how she’d escaped the school, I’d made finding her a personal project, pushing leads that others had said were hopeless.

  Me? I didn’t believe in hopeless.

  I slowed my pace as I neared the intersection, allowing Laurence to catch up. A quick scan revealed the dark shapes of other guardians lurking in shadows and behind objects. This was the spot they’d chosen for the interception. I stepped off the road and hid in the cover of a tree, urging Laurence to do the same with a jerk of my head. We didn’t have to wait long. As I peered around the tree’s edge, I saw two female figures approaching, one practically dragging the other along. At first, I assumed it must be the stronger dhampir helping the princess, but as they grew closer, their heights and builds revealed that it was exactly the opposite.

  I had no time to ponder this oddity. When they were about six feet from me, I quickly stepped out from the tree and blocked their path. They came to a halt, and whatever weaknesses the dhampir girl had had now vanished. She grabbed the princess roughly by the arm and jerked her back, so that the dhampir’s own body served as a shield to keep me away. Around us, other guardians fanned out, taking defensive positions but not advancing without my command. The dhampir girl’s dark eyes made note of them, but she kept her attention focused squarely on me.

  I didn’t entirely know what to expect from her, maybe that she’d try to run away or beg for her freedom. Instead, she shifted into an even more defensive position in front of the princess and spoke in a voice that was barely more than a growl: “Leave her alone. Don’t touch her.”

  The girl was hopelessly outmatched yet still defiant, as though I were the one at a disadvantage. In moments like these, I was glad my old instructors in Russia had grilled me into concealing my feelings—because I was surprised. Very surprised. And as I took this dhampir girl in, I suddenly understood with perfect clarity how they’d eluded us for so long. A network of accomplices? An army? Laurence was a fool. The princess didn’t need a network or an army, not when she had this protector.

  Rose Hathaway.

  There was a passion and intensity that radiated off her, almost like a palpable thing. Tension filled every part of her body as she regarded me, daring me to make a move. She possessed a fierceness I hadn’t expected—that no one had expected, I realized, most likely because they couldn’t see past that delinquent record of hers. But there was a look in her eyes now that said this was no joke, that she would die a thousand times over before she let anyone harm the princess at her back. She reminded me of a cornered wildcat, sleek and beautiful—but fully capable of clawing your face off if provoked.

  And yes, even in the poor lighting, I could see that she was beautiful—in a deadly way—and that struck me too. Her pictures hadn’t done her justice. Long, dark hair framed a face filled with the sort of hard-edged beauty a man might easily dash his heart against. Her eyes, though filled with hatred for me, still managed to be alluring—which only added to her danger. She might be unarmed, but Rose Hathaway was in possession of many weapons.

  I didn’t want to fight her, so I held out my hands in a placating gesture as I took a step forward. “I’m not going to—”

  She attacked.

  I’d seen it coming and wasn’t surprised by the action itself so much as that she’d even try it with the odds stacked against her. Should I have been surprised? Probably not. As I’d observed, it was clear that Rose was willing to do anything and fight anyone to protect her friend. I admired that—I admired that a lot—but it didn’t stop me from striking out to block her. The princess was still my goal tonight. And although Rose might have passion and defiance, her attack was clumsy and easy to deflect. She’d been gone too long from formal training. She recovered badly and started to fall, and I remembered how she’d stumbled earlier. Out of instinct, I reached out and caught her before she could hit the ground, keeping her steady on her feet. That long, marvelous hair fell away from her face, revealing two bloody marks on the side of her neck. Another surprise—but it explained her fatigue and pale complexion. Apparently, her devotion to the princess went beyond just defense. Noticing my scrutiny, Rose knocked some of her tangled hair forward to cover her neck. She pulled away, and I didn’t stop her.

  Des
pite the hopelessness of her situation, I could see her lithe body preparing for another attack. I tensed in response, even though I didn’t want this brave, beautiful, and wild girl to be my enemy. I wanted her as … what? I wasn’t sure. Something more than an outmatched scuffle on a Portland street. There was too much potential here. This girl could be unstoppable if her talents were properly cultivated. I wanted to help her.

  But I would fight her if I had to.

  Suddenly, Princess Vasilisa caught hold of her friend’s hand. “Rose. Don’t.”

  For a moment, nothing happened, and we all stood frozen. Then, slowly, the tension and hostility eased out of Rose’s body. Well, not all the hostility. There was still a dangerous glint in her eyes that kept me on guard. The rest of her body language said that although she hadn’t exactly admitted defeat, she had conceded to a truce—so long as I gave her no cause for alarm.

  I didn’t plan to. I also don’t plan on ever underestimating you again, wild girl, I thought, momentarily locking eyes with her. And I’ll make sure no one else ever underestimates you either.

  Satisfied that she was pacified—at least momentarily—I dragged my eyes from her dark gaze and focused on the princess. After all, runaway or not, Vasilisa Dragomir was the last of a royal line, and certain protocols had to be followed. I bowed before her.

  “My name is Dimitri Belikov. I’ve come to take you back to St. Vladimir’s Academy, Princess.”

  Hello, My Name Is Rose Hathaway

  I knew it was going to happen. I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast.

  “Hey, Rose, would you like to—”

  “No.”

  “Rose, did you see that the scav—”

  “No.”

  “I don’t know if anyone’s asked you yet—”

  “No.”

  “Rose, you’re doing this with us, right?”

  The last request had come from Mason Ashford, so out of respect for our friendship and his puppy dog eyes, I actually let him finish his question before I turned him down.

  “No.”

  He fell into step with me as I continued walking toward our first guardian class of the day. “Why not? Did you already join someone else’s team?”

  “I didn’t join anyone’s team,” I said. “I’m not doing it this year.”

  “Seriously? Why not? Have you seen what’s up for grabs?”

  I came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the field, pivoting so I faced him. I’d missed breakfast, and low blood sugar always made me grumpy. “No, and I don’t care. How can you even think I’d do it?”

  Mason looked so utterly confused that it was almost cute. “Because you’ve done it every other year. I mean, before you left.”

  “Yeah, but that was also before I was on Kirova’s shit list and caught up in a deranged scheme involving a power-hungry madman who tortured my best friend and persuaded his daughter to turn Strigoi! Can you see why I’d maybe—just maybe—want to lie low for a while?”

  “Yeah, but …” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded into quarters. “Look at the prizes.”

  I snatched it from him and read as we continued walking. “‘Bootleg movies. Passcode for extra Internet time. Dark chocolate bacon truffles’? That’s not even a real thing.”

  “You didn’t read it all,” he said when I handed it back. “There’s wine on here too.”

  “What kind?”

  “Parkland.”

  “Ugh. That’s that warehouse store’s crappy generic brand. I’m not going to risk getting in trouble for that.”

  We reached the building that held novice classes, and he pulled the door open for me. “It’ll be fun. Me, you, and Eddie. So what if you don’t care about the prizes? I figured you’d do it for the thrill of it. You haven’t lost your edge, have you?”

  I jabbed a finger in his chest. “I haven’t lost anything, Ashford. I just have better things to do tonight than sneak around and risk detention. Look, I’m sorry. If I were going to do it, it’d be with you guys. Really. But I’m trying to walk the straight and narrow here. You’ve got to have some respect for that.”

  “I have plenty of respect for that,” he grumbled. “I’d just also like to have some crappy boxed wine.”

  “It’s in a box too? Come on.”

  Mason wasn’t the last one to hit me up that day. I supposed I should’ve been flattered that so many people wanted me on their team, but I wasn’t sure it was because they liked me so much as they thought my reputation for crazy and reckless behavior would be a good asset.

  The St. Varvara’s Day scavenger hunt was a tradition at our school—an unofficial one. Every year, St. Vladimir’s Academy put on enormous carnivals for both the lower and upper campuses in celebration of a Moroi saint who’d allegedly battled ghosts centuries ago. These days, no one in the Moroi world really believed she’d fought against ghosts. Hardly anyone even celebrated the holiday anymore, and those who did in America had sort of ended up making it a second Halloween. It actually took place a little less than a month after Halloween, so it was a handy way to reuse decorations and costumes. If the weather was decent—which, for Montana in late November, meant less than five feet of snow—the teachers held the upper and lower school carnivals outdoors. The carnivals pretty much contained every clichéd Halloween activity you could think of: bobbing for apples, costume contests, and even pumpkin carving. It was also packed with junk food. And behind all that merriment, the scavenger hunt ran in secret on upper campus.

  The students who organized the hunt changed from year to year. The group usually consisted of a mix of Moroi and dhampirs who pooled together a set of prize goods that were either hard to get at school or outright banned. Teams of three competed by scurrying around campus for two hours, gathering as much as they could from a list of illicit items. Said items varied in difficulty to obtain, but stealing any one of them would get you in big trouble if you were caught. Teachers’ personal possessions were a popular choice, as were classroom supplies and hallway displays. Everything had a point value based on how much effort getting it took. The last time I’d participated, one of the list’s goals had been a cafeteria tray. It wasn’t a high-stakes object, and it had a low point value since there were lots of them available. That same year, Mr. Nagy’s Holy Mount Athos poster had been on the list—a one-of-a-kind item. Not only was breaking into his classroom difficult, you also ran the risk of getting there and finding another team had beat you to it.

  I felt like I’d turned down every novice on campus by the time I went to lunch and hoped there was no one left to bug me. So it was a total shock when Lissa sat down across from me, carting a pair of angel wings, and asked, “You’re doing the scavenger hunt, right?”

  For half a second, I thought maybe she’d heard about all my refusals and just wanted to tease me. Now that she regularly took meds to keep spirit in check, I couldn’t see her mind as clearly as I used to. But just then, her eagerness and excitement came through loud and clear. “Why does everyone keep asking that? You of all people should understand why I need to stay out of trouble right now.”

  She drummed her nails against the table. “Well … you’re only in trouble if you get caught.”

  “Liss, I expect this from everyone else. Not you. You’re the queen of sensible thinking.” I pointed to the wings. “You’re even dressing up like a freaking angel tonight. You can’t help yourself from being good.”

  “Yeah, I know. And normally I am against something like this. It’s stupid. It’s childish. And even though everything gets returned, I think it’s wrong to steal and break into rooms. But it’s just …”

  Nervousness and resolve in the bond now. I could’ve probed further and discovered exactly what was driving her, but I decided to wait her out. “And?” I prompted.

  “And …” She took a deep breath. “One of the prizes is dark chocolate bacon truffles.”

  Had I misheard? No. It wasn’t like there was really any
thing you could mistake that for. “Since when do you like dark chocolate bacon truffles, Liss? Scratch that—I know the answer. You don’t.”

  “No … but Christian does.”

  “Ugh.” I tossed my sandwich down and started to stand up. “That’s what this is about? I think I just lost my appetite, and amazingly, it’s not just because some mad scientist decided to put bacon into truffles.”

  Lissa grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. “Stop being melodramatic.”

  “I’m not! God didn’t intend for chocolate and bacon to be mixed together. But I’m zero percent surprised that if anyone would want to eat it, it’d be Christian.”

  “Rose, listen to me.” She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “He loves them. Seriously. And this brand is his favorite! Haberlin’s. Imported from Switzerland.”

  “They have bacon in Switzerland?”

  “Why wouldn’t they? Look, his birthday is next week, and there’s no way I could get any delivered out here in time. This is a perfect solution. Please?”

  “Liss—”

  “Please?” Those big jade-colored eyes met mine pleadingly. No compulsion necessary. “It’s a big milestone in our relationship. The first birthday since we’ve been a couple. And look at everything he’s been through in his life. He lost his parents in the worst way possible. He nearly got killed trying to save me from Victor. Don’t you think that after all that, the universe wants to make it up to him? I mean, what are the odds that—”

  “Fine, fine.” I buried my face in my hands, unable to handle any more—because, truthfully, I was starting to feel bad for Christian. “If you want to do the scavenger hunt, I’ll do it with you.”