Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection: 1/6 (17 page)

Dimitri shifted closer to Lissa, bending down until they were at eye level. “Tell me what happened.” He handed her several tissues.

“I came back about an hour ago. And it was there. Right there in the middle of the floor. Torn apart. It was like it had ... exploded.” She sniffed. “I didn’t want Natalie to find it, didn’t want to scare her . . . so I—I cleaned it up. Then I just couldn’t . . . I couldn’t go back. . . .” She began to cry, and her shoulders shook.

I could figure out the rest, the part she didn’t tell Dimitri. She’d found the rabbit, cleaned up, and freaked out. Then she’d cut herself, but it was the weird way she coped with things that upset her.

“No one should be able to get into those rooms!” exclaimed the matron. “How is this happening?”

“Do you know who did it?” Dimitri’s voice was gentle.

Lissa reached into her pajama pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It had so much blood soaked into it, I could barely read it as he held it and smoothed it out.

The matron’s shock transformed into something more determined, and she headed for the door. “I’m getting Ellen.” It took me a second to remember that was Kirova’s first name.

“Tell her we’ll be at the clinic,” said Dimitri. When she left, he turned to Lissa. “You should lie down.”

When she didn’t move, I linked my arm through hers. “Come on, Liss. Let’s get you out of here.”

Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other and let us lead her to the Academy’s medical clinic. It was normally staffed by a couple of doctors, but at this time of night, only a nurse stayed on duty. She offered to wake one of the doctors, but Dimitri declined. “She just needs to rest.”

Lissa had no sooner stretched out on a narrow bed than Kirova and a few others showed up and started questioning her.

I thrust myself in front of them, blocking her. “Leave her alone! Can’t you see she doesn’t want to talk about it? Let her get some sleep first!”

“Miss Hathaway,” declared Kirova, “you’re out of line as usual. I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”

Dimitri asked if he could speak with her privately and led her into the hall. I heard angry whispers from her, calm and firm ones from him. When they returned, she said stiffly, “You may stay with her for a little while. We’ll have janitors do further cleaning and investigation in the bathroom and your room, Miss Dragomir, and then discuss the situation in detail in the morning.”

“Don’t wake Natalie,” whispered Lissa. “I don’t want to scare her. I cleaned up everything in the room anyway.”

Kirova looked doubtful. The group retreated but not before the nurse asked if Lissa wanted anything to eat or drink. She declined. Once we were alone, I lay down beside her and put my arm around her.

“I won’t let them find out,” I told her, sensing her worry about her wrists. “But I wish you’d told me before I left the reception. You’d said you’d always come to me first.”

“I wasn’t going to do it then,” she said, her eyes staring blankly off. “I swear, I wasn’t going to. I mean, I was upset ... but I thought ... I thought I could handle it. I was trying so hard . . . really, Rose. I was. But then I got back to my room, and I saw
it
, and I . . . just lost it. It was like the last straw, you know? And I knew I had to clean it up. Had to clean it up before they saw, before they found out, but there was so much blood . . . and afterward, after it was done, it was too much, and I felt like I was going to . . . I don’t know . . . explode, and it was just too much, I had to let it out, you know? I had to—”

I interrupted her hysteria. “It’s okay, I understand.”

That was a lie. I didn’t get her cutting at all. She’d done it sporadically, ever since the accident, and it scared me each time. She’d try to explain it to me, how she didn’t want to die—she just needed to get
it
out somehow. She felt so much emotionally, she would say, that a physical outlet—physical pain—was the only way to make the internal pain go away. It was the only way she could control it.

“Why is this happening?” she cried into her pillow. “Why am I a freak?”

“You aren’t a freak.”

“No one else has this happen to them. No one else does magic like I can.”

“Did you try to do magic?” No answer. “Liss? Did you try to heal the rabbit?”

“I reached out, just to see if I could maybe fix it, but there was just too much blood. . . . I couldn’t.”

Lissa was right. Moroi magic could conjure fire and water, move rocks and other pieces of earth. But no one could heal or bring animals back from the dead. No one except Ms. Karp.

I hated carrying this secret, mostly because I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t like feeling powerless. I needed to protect her from this—and from herself. And yet, at the same time, I needed to protect her from
them
, too.

“We should go,” I said abruptly. “We’re going to leave.”

“Rose—”

“It’s happening again. And it’s worse. Worse than last time.”

“You’re afraid of the note.”

“I’m not afraid of any note. But this place isn’t safe.”

I suddenly longed for Portland again. It might be dirtier and more crowded than the rugged Montana landscape, but at least you knew what to expect—not like here. Here at the Academy, past and present warred with each other. It might have its beautiful old walls and gardens, but inside, modern things were creeping in. People didn’t know how to handle that. It was just like the Moroi themselves. Their archaic royal families still held the power on the surface, but people were growing discontent. Dhampirs who wanted more to their lives. Moroi like Christian who wanted to fight the Strigoi. The royals still clung to their traditions, still touted their power over everyone else, just as the Academy’s elaborate iron gates put on a show of tradition and invincibility.

And, oh, the lies and secrets. They ran through the halls and hid in the corners. Someone here hated Lissa, someone who was probably smiling right to her face and pretending to be her friend. I couldn’t let them destroy her.

“You need to get some sleep,” I told her.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Yes, you can. I’m right here. You won’t be alone.”

Anxiety and fear and other troubled emotions coursed through her. But in the end, her body’s needs won out. After a while, I saw her eyes close. Her breathing became even, and the bond grew quiet.

I watched her sleep, too keyed up with adrenaline to allow myself any rest. I think maybe an hour had passed when the nurse returned and told me I had to leave.

“I can’t go,” I said. “I promised her she wouldn’t be alone.”

The nurse was tall, even for a Moroi, with kind brown eyes. “She won’t be. I’ll stay with her.”

I regarded her skeptically.

“I promise.”

Back in my room, I had my own crash. The fear and excitement had worn me out too, and for an instant, I wished I could have a normal life and a normal best friend. Immediately, I cast that thought out. No one was normal, not really. And I’d never have a better friend than Lissa . . . but man, it was so hard sometimes.

I slept heavily until morning. I went to my first class tentatively, nervous that word about last night had gotten around. As it turned out, people
were
talking about last night, but their attention was still focused on the queen and the reception. They knew nothing about the rabbit. As hard as it was to believe, I’d nearly forgotten about that other stuff. Still, it suddenly seemed like a small thing compared to someone causing a bloody explosion in Lissa’s room.

Yet, as the day went on, I noticed something weird. People stopped looking at Lissa so much. The started looking at
me
. Whatever. Ignoring them, I hunted around and found Lissa finishing up with a feeder. That funny feeling I always got came over me as I watched her mouth work against the feeder’s neck, drinking his blood. A trickle of it ran down his throat, standing out against his pale skin. Feeders, though human, were nearly as pale as Moroi from all the blood loss. He didn’t seem to notice; he was long gone on the high of the bite. Drowning in jealousy, I decided I needed therapy.

“You okay?” I asked her later, on our way to class. She wore long sleeves, purposefully obscuring her wrists.

“Yeah . . . I still can’t stop thinking about that rabbit. . . . It was so horrible. I keep seeing it in my head. And then what I did.” She squeezed her eyes shut, just for a moment, and then opened them again. “People are talking about us.”

“I know. Ignore them.”

“I
hate
it,” she said angrily. A surge of darkness shot up into her and through the bond. It made me cringe. My best friend was lighthearted and kind. She didn’t have feelings like that. “I hate all the gossip. It’s so stupid. How can they all be so shallow?”

“Ignore them,” I repeated soothingly. “You were smart not to hang out with them anymore.”

Ignoring them grew harder and harder, though. The whispers and looks increased. In animal behavior, it became so bad, I couldn’t even concentrate on my now-favorite subject. Ms. Meissner had started talking about evolution and survival of the fittest and how animals sought mates with good genes. It fascinated me, but even she had a hard time staying on task, since she had to keep yelling at people to quiet down and pay attention.

“Something’s going on,” I told Lissa between classes. “I don’t know what, but they’re all over something new.”

“Something else? Other than the queen hating me? What more could there be?”

“Wish I knew.”

Things finally came to a head in our last class of the day, Slavic art. It started when a guy I barely knew made a very explicit and nearly obscene suggestion to me while we all worked on individual projects. I replied in kind, letting him know exactly what he could do with his request.

He only laughed. “Come on, Rose. I
bleed
for you.”

Loud giggles ensued, and Mia cut us a taunting look. “Wait, it’s Rose who does the bleeding, right?”

More laughter. Understanding slapped me in the face. I jerked Lissa away. “They know.”

“Know what?”

“About us. About how you . . . you know, how I fed you while we were gone.”

She gaped. “How?”

“How do you think? Your ‘friend’ Christian.”

“No,” she said adamantly. “He wouldn’t have.”

“Who else knew?”

Faith in Christian flashed in her eyes and in our bond. But she didn’t know what I knew. She didn’t know how I’d bitched him out last night, how I’d made him think she hated him. The guy was unstable. Spreading our biggest secret—well, one of them—would be an adequate revenge. Maybe he’d killed the rabbit, too. After all, it had died only a couple hours after I’d told him off.

Not waiting around to hear her protests, I stalked off to the other side of the room where Christian was working by himself, as usual. Lissa followed in my wake. Not caring if people saw us, I leaned across the table toward him, putting my face inches from his.

“I’m going to kill you.”

His eyes darted to Lissa, the faintest glimmer of longing in them, and then a scowl spread over his face. “Why? Is it like guardian extra credit?”

“Stop with the attitude,” I warned, pitching my voice low. “You told. You told how Lissa had to feed off me.”

“Tell her,” said Lissa desperately. “Tell her she’s wrong.”

Christian dragged his eyes from me to her, and as they regarded each other, I felt such a powerful wave of attraction, it was a wonder it didn’t knock me over. Her heart was in her eyes. It was obvious to me he felt the same way about her, but she couldn’t see it, particularly since he was still glaring at her.

“You can stop it, you know,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Lissa’s giddy attraction vanished, replaced by hurt and shock over his tone. “I . . . what? Pretend what? . . .”

“You
know
what. Just stop. Stop with the act.”

Lissa stared at him, her eyes wide and wounded. She had no clue I’d gone off on him last night. She had no clue that he believed she hated him.

“Get over feeling sorry for yourself, and tell us what’s going on,” I snapped at him. “Did you or didn’t you tell them?”

He fixed me with a defiant look. “No. I didn’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I do,” said Lissa.

“I know it’s impossible to believe a
freak
like me could keep his mouth shut—especially since neither of you can—but I have better things to do than spread stupid rumors. You want someone to blame? Blame your golden boy over there.”

I followed his gaze to where Jesse was laughing about something with that idiot Ralf.

“Jesse doesn’t know,” said Lissa defiantly.

Christian’s eyes were glued to me. “He
does,
though. Doesn’t he, Rose? He knows.”

My stomach sank out of me. Yes. Jesse did know. He’d figured it out that night in the lounge. “I didn’t think . . . I didn’t think he’d tell. He was too afraid of Dimitri.”

“You
told
him?” exclaimed Lissa.

“No, he guessed.” I was starting to feel sick.

“He apparently did more than guess,” muttered Christian.

I turned on him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh. You don’t know.”

“I swear to God, Christian, I’m going to break your neck after class.”

“Man, you really are unstable.” He said it almost happily, but his next words were more serious. He still wore that sneer, still glowed with anger, but when he spoke, I could hear the faintest uneasiness in his voice. “He sort of elaborated on what was in your note. Got into a little more detail.”