Simon's eyes went wide, and he fell to his knees. Lissa could sense the other two spirit users-and was a bit surprised by Oksana's presence-and had the vague impression that they were all doing slightly different things to Simon. Lissa was trying to compel him to stop his attack, to simply sit still. Her brief brush with Adrian's magic told her he was trying to make the guardian sleep, and Oksana was attempting to get Simon to run out of the room.
The conflicting messages and all that power were too much. The last of Simon's defenses fell as all those mixed messages blasted into him, creating a tidal wave of spirit. He collapsed to the floor. With all of their magic combined, the spirit users had knocked him unconscious. Lissa and Adrian turned to Avery, bracing themselves, but there was no need.
As soon as all that spirit had blasted into Simon, Avery had begun screaming. And screaming and screaming. She gripped the sides of her head, the sound of her voice horrible and grating. Lissa and Adrian exchanged glances, unsure how to handle this new development.
"For God's sake," gasped Adrian, exhausted. "How do we shut her up?"
Lissa didn't know. She considered approaching Avery and trying to help her, in spite of all that had happened. But a few seconds later, Avery grew quiet. She didn't pass out like her companions had. She just sat there, staring. Her expression no longer resembled the dazed look she'd had while wielding spirit. It was just... blank. Like there was nothing in her at all.
"Wh-what happened?" asked Lissa.
I had the answer. The spirit flooded from Simon into her. It fried her.
Lissa was startled. How could it go from Simon to her?
Because they're bonded.
You said she was bonded to Reed!
She is. She's bonded to both of them.
Lissa had been too distracted while fighting for her life, but I'd been able to notice everyone's auras through her eyes. Avery-no longer masking hers-had possessed a gold one, just like Adrian and Lissa. Simon and Reed had had nearly identical ones, with ordinary colors-ringed in black.
They were shadow-kissed, both having been brought back from the dead by Avery.
Lissa asked no more questions and simply collapsed into Adrian's arms. There was nothing romantic about it, just a desperate need on both their parts to be close to a friend.
"Why did you come?" she asked him.
"Are you kidding? How could I not? You guys were like a bonfire with all the spirit you were wielding. I felt it all the way across campus." He glanced around. "Man, I have a lot of questions."
"You and me both," she muttered.
I have to go, I told Lissa. I felt a little wistful at having to leave them.
I miss you. When will you be back?
Soon.
Thank you. Thank you for being there for me.
Always. I suspected I was smiling back in my own body. Oh, and Lissa? Tell Adrian I'm proud of him.
The Academy room faded. I was once more sitting on a bed halfway around the world. Abe was looking at me with concern. Mark also was concerned, but he had eyes only for Oksana, who lay down beside me. She looked a little like Avery, pale and sweating. Mark clasped her hand frantically, fear all over him. "Are you okay?"
She smiled. "Just tired. I'll be all right."
I wanted to hug her. "Thank you," I breathed. "Thank you so much."
"I'm glad to have helped," she said. "But I hope I don't have to do it again. It was... strange. I'm not sure what role I played there."
"Me either." It had been weird. Sometimes it was like Oksana had actually been there, fighting right along with Lissa and the rest. Other times, I'd felt as though Oksana had merged with me. I shuddered. Too many minds linked together.
"Next time, you have to be by her side," Oksana said. "In the real world."
I looked down at my hands, confused and unsure what to think. The silver ring gleamed up at me. I took it off and handed it to her.
"This ring saved me. Can it heal you even though you made it?"
She held it in her hand for a moment and then gave it back. "No, but like I said, I'll recover. I heal quickly on my own."
It was true. I'd seen Lissa heal remarkably fast in the past. It was part of always having spirit in you. I stared at the ring, and something troubling came to mind. It was a thought that had struck me while riding with the old couple to Novosibirsk, when I'd moved in and out of consciousness.
"Oksana... a Strigoi touched this ring. And for a few moments-while he did-it was like... well, he was still Strigoi, no question. But while he held it, he was almost like his old self too."
Oksana didn't answer right away. She looked up at Mark, and they held each other's gazes for a long time. He bit his lip and shook his head.
"Don't," he said. "It's a fairy tale."
"What?" I exclaimed. I looked back and forth between him. "If you know something about this-about Strigoi-you have to tell me!"
Mark spoke sharply in Russian, a warning in his voice. Oksana looked equally determined. "It's not our place to withhold information," she replied.
She turned to me, face grave. "Mark told you about the Moroi we met long ago... the other spirit user?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"He used to tell a lot of stories-most of which I don't think were true. But one of them... well, he claimed he restored a Strigoi to life."
Abe, silent thus far, scoffed. "That is a fairy tale."
"What?" My whole world reeled. "How?"
"I don't know. He never elaborated much, and the details often changed. His mind was going, and I think half of what he said was imaginary," she explained.
"He's crazy," said Mark. "It wasn't true. Don't get caught up in an insane man's fantasy. Don't fixate on this. Don't let it become your next vigilante quest. You need to go back to your bondmate."
I swallowed, every emotion in the world churning in my stomach. Was it true? Had a spirit user restored a Strigoi to life? Theoretically... well, if spirit users could heal and bring back the dead, why not the undead? And Dimitri... Dimitri had definitely seemed altered while holding the ring.
Had spirit affected him and touched some piece of his old self? At the time, I'd just assumed it was fond memories of his family affecting him...
"I need to talk to this guy," I murmured.
Not that I knew why. Fairy tale or not, it was too late. I'd done it. I'd killed Dimitri. Nothing would bring him back now, no miracle of spirit. My heart rate increased, and I could hardly breathe. In my mind's eye, I saw him falling, falling... falling forever with the stake in his chest. Would he have said he loved me? I would ask myself that for the rest of my life.
Agony and grief flooded me, though at the same time, relief was there too. I had freed Dimitri from a state of evil. I had brought him peace, sending him on to happiness. Maybe he and Mason were together in heaven somewhere, practicing some guardian moves. I had done the right thing. There should be no regret here.
Oblivious to my emotions, Oksana addressed my last statement. "Mark wasn't kidding. This man is crazy-if he's even still alive. The last time we saw him, he could barely hold up a conversation or even use his magic. He ran off into hiding. No one knows where he is-except maybe his brother."
"Enough," warned Mark.
Abe's attention was piqued, however. He leaned forward, shrewd as ever. "What's this man's name?"
"Robert Doru," said Mark after a few hesitant moments.
It was no one I knew, and I realized how pointless this all was. This guy was a lost cause and had likely imagined the whole idea of saving a Strigoi in a fit of insanity. Dimitri was gone. This part of my life was over. I needed to get back to Lissa.
Then I noticed that Abe had gone very still.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
"No. Do you?"
"No." I scrutinized Abe's face. "You sure look like you know something, Zmey."
"I know of him," Abe clarified. "He's an illegitimate royal. His father had an affair, and Robert was the result. His father actually included him as part of the family. Robert and his half-brother grew quite close, though few knew about it." Of course Abe would know about it, though. "Doru is Robert's mother's last name."
No surprise. Doru wasn't a royal name. "What's his father's last name?"
"Dashkov. Trenton Dashkov."
"That," I told him, "is a name I know."
I had met Trenton Dashkov years ago while accompanying Lissa and her family to a royal holiday party. Trenton had been an old, stooped man then, kind but on the brink of death. Moroi often lived to be over a hundred, but he'd been pushing a hundred and twenty-which was ancient even by their standards. There had been no sign or whisper of him having an illegitimate son, but Trenton's legitimate son had been there. That son had even danced with me, showing a great courtesy to a lowly dhampir girl.