Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection: 1/6 (50 page)

“Not only that, we have plenty of potential guardians going to waste. Where are all the dhampir women? Our races are intertwined. The Moroi are doing their part to help the dhampirs survive. Why aren’t these women doing theirs? Why aren’t they here?”

A long, sultry laugh came as an answer. All eyes turned toward Tasha Ozera. Whereas many of the other royals had dressed up, she was easy and casual. She wore her usual jeans, a white tank top that showed a bit of midriff, and a blue, lacy knit cardigan that came to her knees.

Glancing at the moderator, she asked, “May I?”

He nodded. The Szelsky woman sat down; Tasha stood up. Unlike the other speakers, she strode right up to the podium, so she could be clearly seen by everyone. Her glossy black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, completely exposing her scars in a way I suspected was intentional. Her face was bold and defiant. Beautiful.

“Those women aren’t here, Monica, because they’re too busy raising their children—you know, the ones you want to start sending out to the fronts as soon as they can walk. And please don’t insult us all by acting like the Moroi do a huge favor to the dhampirs by helping them reproduce. Maybe it’s different in your family, but for the rest of us, sex is fun. The Moroi doing it with dhampirs aren’t really making that big of a sacrifice.”

Dimitri had straightened up now, his expression no longer angry. Probably he was excited that his new girlfriend had mentioned sex. Irritation shot through me, and I hoped that if I had a homicidal look on my face, people would assume it was for Strigoi and not the woman currently addressing us.

Beyond Dimitri, I suddenly noticed Mia sitting by herself, farther down the row. I hadn’t realized she was here. She was slumped in her seat. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face paler than usual. A funny ache burned in my chest, one I’d never expected her to bring about.

“And the reason we’re waiting for these guardians to turn eighteen is so that we can allow them to enjoy some pretense of a life before forcing them to spend the rest of their days in constant danger. They need those extra years to develop mentally as well as physically. Pull them out before they’re ready, treat them like they’re parts on an assembly line—and you’re just creating Strigoi fodder.”

A few people gasped at Tasha’s callous choice of words, but she succeeded in getting everyone’s attention.

“You create more fodder still if you try making the other dhampir women become guardians. You can’t force them into that life if they don’t want it. This entire plan of yours to get more guardians relies on throwing children and the unwilling into harm’s way, just so you can—barely—stay one step ahead of the enemy. I would have said it’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard, if I hadn’t already had to listen to his.”

She pointed at the first speaker, the one who had wanted Moroi compounds. Embarrassment clouded his features.

“Enlighten us then, Natasha,” he said. “Tell us what
you
think we should do, seeing as you have so much experience with Strigoi.”

A thin smile played on Tasha’s lips, but she didn’t rise to the insult. “What do I think?” She strode closer to the stage’s front, gazing at us as she answered his question. “I think we should stop coming up with plans that involve us relying on someone or something to protect us. You think there are too few guardians? That’s not the problem. The problem is there are too many Strigoi. And we’ve let them multiply and become more powerful because we do nothing about them except have stupid arguments like this. We run and hide behind the dhampirs and let the Strigoi go unchecked. It’s our fault.
We
are the reason those Drozdovs died. You want an army? Well, here we are. Dhampirs aren’t the only ones who can learn to fight. The question, Monica, isn’t where the dhampir women are in this fight. The question is:
Where are we
?”

Tasha was shouting by now, and the exertion turned her cheeks pink. Her eyes shone with her impassioned feelings, and when combined with the rest of her pretty features—and even with the scar—she made a striking figure. Most people couldn’t take their eyes off her. Lissa watched Tasha with wonder, inspired by her words. Mason looked hypnotized. Dimitri looked impressed. And farther past him . . .

Farther past him was Mia. Mia no longer hunched in her chair. She was sitting up straight, straight as a stick, her eyes as wide as they could go. She stared at Tasha as though she alone held all the answers to life.

Monica Szelsky looked less awed, and she fixed her gaze on Tasha. “Surely you aren’t suggesting the Moroi fight alongside the guardians when the Strigoi come?”

Tasha regarded her levelly. “No. I’m suggesting the Moroi and the guardians go fight the Strigoi
before
they come.”

A guy in his twenties who looked like a Ralph Lauren spokesmodel shot up. I would have wagered money he was royal. No one else could have afforded blond highlights that perfect. He untied an expensive sweater from around his waist and draped it over the back of his chair. “Oh,” he said in a mocking voice, speaking out of turn. “So, you’re going to just give us clubs and stakes and send us off to do battle?”

Tasha shrugged. “If that’s what it takes, Andrew, then sure.” A sly smile crossed her pretty lips. “But there are other weapons we can learn to use, too. Ones the guardians can’t.”

The look on his face showed how insane he thought that idea was. He rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Her smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Like this.”

She waved her hand, and the sweater he’d placed on the back of his chair burst into flames.

He yelped in surprise and knocked it to the floor, stamping it out with his feet.

There was a brief, collective intake of breath throughout the room. And then . . . chaos broke out.

THIRTEEN

P
EOPLE STOOD UP AND SHOUTED, everyone wanting their opinion to be heard. As it was, most of them held the same view: Tasha was wrong. They told her she was crazy. They told her that in sending out Moroi and dhampirs to fight the Strigoi, she’d be expediting the extinction of both races. They even had the nerve to suggest that that was Tasha’s plan all along—that she was somehow collaborating with the Strigoi in all of this.

Dimitri stood up, disgust all over his features as he surveyed the chaos. “You might as well leave. Nothing useful’s going to happen now.”

Mason and I rose, but he shook his head when I started to follow Dimitri out.

“You go on,” said Mason. “I want to check something out.”

I glanced at the standing, arguing people. I shrugged. “Good luck.”

I couldn’t believe it had only been a few days since I’d spoken to Dimitri. Stepping out into the hall with him, I felt like it’d been years. Being with Mason these last couple of days had been fantastic, but seeing Dimitri again, all of my old feelings for him came rushing back. Suddenly, Mason seemed like a child. My distress over the Tasha situation also came back, and stupid words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Shouldn’t you be in there protecting Tasha?” I asked. “Before the mob gets her? She’s going to get in big trouble for using magic like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “She can take care of herself.”

“Yeah, yeah, because she’s a badass karate magic user. I get all that. I just figured since you’re going to be her guardian and all . . .”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I have my sources.” Somehow, saying I’d heard it from my mom sounded less cool. “You’ve decided to, right? I mean, it sounds like a good deal, seeing as she’s going to give you fringe benefits. . . .”

He gave me a level look. “What happens between her and me is none of your business,” he replied crisply.

The words
between her and me
stung. It sounded like he and Tasha were a done deal. And, as often happened when I was hurt, my temper and attitude took over.

“Well, I’m sure you guys’ll be happy together. She’s just your type, too—I know how much you like women who aren’t your own age. I mean, she’s what, six years older than you? Seven? And I’m seven years younger than you.”

“Yes,” he said after several moments of silence. “You are. And every second this conversation goes on, you only prove how young you really are.”

Whoa. My jaw almost hit the floor. Not even my mother punching me had hurt as badly as that. For a heartbeat, I thought I saw regret in his eyes, like he too realized just how harsh his words had been. But the moment passed, and his expression was hard once more.

“Little dhampir,” a voice suddenly said nearby.

Slowly, still stunned, I turned toward Adrian Ivashkov. He grinned at me and gave a brief nod of acknowledgment to Dimitri. I suspected my face was bright red. How much had Adrian heard?

He held up his hands in a casual gesture. “I don’t want to interrupt or anything. Just wanted to talk to you when you have time.”

I wanted to tell Adrian I didn’t have time to play whatever game he was into now, but Dimitri’s words still smarted. He was looking at Adrian now in a very disapproving way. I suspected he, like everyone else, had heard about Adrian’s bad reputation.
Good
, I thought. I suddenly wanted him to be jealous. I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me lately.

Swallowing my pain, I unearthed my man-eating smile, one I hadn’t used to full effect in sometime. I walked over to Adrian and put a hand on his arm.

“I’ve got time now.” I gave a nod of my own to Dimitri and steered Adrian away, walking close to him. “See you later, Guardian Belikov.”

Dimitri’s dark eyes followed us stonily. Then I turned away and didn’t look back.

“Not into older guys, huh?” asked Adrian once we were alone.

“You’re imagining things,” I said. “Clearly, my stunning beauty has clouded your mind.”

He laughed that nice laugh of his. “That’s entirely possible.”

I started to step back, but he tossed an arm around me. “No, no, you wanted to play chummy with me—now you’ve got to see it through.”

I rolled my eyes at him and let the arm stay. I could smell alcohol on him as well as the perpetual smell of cloves. I wondered if he was drunk now. I had the feeling that there was probably little difference between his attitudes drunk or sober.

“What do you want?” I asked.

He studied me for a moment. “I want you to grab Vasilisa and come with me. We’re going to have some fun. You’ll probably want a swimsuit too.” He seemed disappointed by the admission of this. “Unless you want to go naked.”

“What? A bunch of Moroi and dhampirs just got slaughtered, and you want to go swimming and ‘have fun’?”

“It’s not just swimming,” he said patiently. “Besides, that slaughter is exactly why you should go do this.”

Before I could argue that, I saw my friends round the corner: Lissa, Mason, and Christian. Eddie Castile was with the group, which shouldn’t have surprised me, but Mia was as well—which certainly did surprise me. They were deep in conversation, though they all stopped talking when they saw me.

“There you are,” said Lissa, a puzzled look on her face.

I remembered Adrian’s arm was still around me. I stepped out of it. “Hey, guys,” I said. A moment of awkwardness hung around us, and I was pretty sure I heard a low chuckle from Adrian. I beamed at him and then my friends. “Adrian invited us to go swimming.”

They stared at me in surprise, and I could almost see the wheels of speculation turning in their heads. Mason’s face darkened a little, but like the others, he said nothing. I stifled a groan.

Adrian took me inviting the others to his secret interlude pretty well. With his easygoing attitude, I hadn’t really expected anything else. Once we had swimsuits, we followed his directions to a doorway in one of the far wings of the lodge. It held a staircase that led down—and down and down. I nearly got dizzy as we wound around and around. Electric lights hung in the walls, but as we went farther, the painted walls changed to carved stone.

When we reached our destination, we discovered Adrian had been right—it wasn’t just swimming. We were in a special spa area of the resort, one used only for the most elite Moroi. In this case, it was reserved for a bunch of royals I assumed were Adrian’s friends. There were about thirty others, all his age or older, who bore the marks of wealth and elitism.

The spa consisted of a series of hot mineral pools. Maybe once they’d been in a cave or something, but the lodge builders had long since gotten rid of any sort of rustic surroundings. The black stone walls and ceiling were as polished and beautiful as anything else in the resort. It was like being in a cave—a really nice, designer cave. Racks of towels lined the walls, as did tables full of exotic food. The baths matched the rest of the room’s hewn-out décor: stone-lined pools containing hot water that was heated from some underground source. Steam filled the room, and a faint, metallic smell hung in the air. Sounds of partygoers laughing and splashing echoed around us.

“Why is Mia with you?” I asked Lissa softly. We were winding our way through the room, looking for a pool that wasn’t occupied.

“She was talking to Mason when we were getting ready to leave,” she returned. She kept her voice just as quiet. “It seemed mean to just . . . I don’t know . . . leave her . . .”

Even I agreed with that. Obvious signs of grief were written all over her face, but Mia seemed at least momentarily distracted by whatever Mason was telling her.

“I thought you didn’t know Adrian,” Lissa added. Disapproval hung in her voice and in the bond. We finally found a large pool, a little out of the way. A guy and a girl were on the opposite side, all over each other, but there was plenty of room for the rest of us. They were easy to ignore.

I put a foot into the water and pulled it back immediately.