Chapter 11
I was shocked but I could not stop her, not when she was so determined. And not because I couldn't leave this place without major trouble for both of us. With a sigh I headed back and into my trunk. It took quite a bit of doing to repair the damage around in my dueling room and I knew that it would not survive another bout of black fire. I needed to find another place to release the darkness but a space surrounded by wards was not the right place to do it.
As Lissa started using her magic, I felt the darkness coming back. I could take some of it but not all of it. My sanity needed to stay intact and let's face it between the two of us, I was far more dangerous than Lissa. They only knew about the fighting, not about the magic I could wield and no one in this world would find out about it. No one. I kept an eye on Lissa and siphoned some of the darkness. I really hoped it would be enough and that it would not come down to cutting again.
At the beginning of the next day, I headed towards my practices with Dimitri, these lessons were becoming the best part of my days now. I might have started to develop a teeny tiny crush on him, not like Rose but it started now. Finding a proper sparring partner was awesome and I loved the adrenaline rush but it also helped me channel some of that darkness into something more constructive. Dimitri always started with the running, joining me in it. When we finished, he led me through an offensive exercise where I could use any makeshift weapons I could find to attack him. To my surprise, I started doing so much better against him. Although my attacks seemed to be doing me more damage than him. The impacts always made me stagger back, reminding me that I needed to get stronger in this body. To achieve my peak, I needed to work harder and get stronger faster. It did however not stop me from attacking and attacking, fighting with an almost blind rage, thanks to the darkness I did not know how to get rid of.
Dimitri finally called for a break. We carried the equipment we'd used on the field and returned everything to the supply room. While putting it away, he glanced at me and did a double-take. "Your hands," He swore in Russian and I bit my lip to stop my laugh. I understood Russian but Rose did not. "Where are your gloves?" I looked down at my hands, they had suffered for weeks now, and I was no stranger to pain. The cold had turned the skin raw and chapped, and some parts were actually bleeding a little. My blisters swelled. Maybe this was my way of cutting, letting it out, feeling, and owning the pain. "Don't have any. Never needed them in Portland." He swore again and beckoned me to a chair while he retrieved a first aid kit. Wiping away the blood with a wet cloth, he told me gruffly, "We'll get you some." I read this part and I wondered how much I could push him before he showed me he might be feeling something for me too. He had a lid on his control but how far could I push him before he snapped? Only one way to find out.
Stealing Rose's lines for now I looked down at my destroyed hands as he worked. "This is only the start, isn't it?" "Of what?" "Me. Turning into Alberta. Her ... and all the other female guardians. They're all leathery and stuff. Fighting and training and always being outdoors -- they aren't pretty anymore." I paused. "This ... this life, it destroys them. Their looks, I mean." He hesitated for a moment and looked up from my hands. Those warm brown eyes surveyed me, and something fluttered in my chest, I knew this was wrong, he was 7 years older than Rose. But I was way older. "It won't happen to you. You're too ...." He seemed to struggle for the right word and I mentally substituted all sorts of possibilities. "It won't happen to you." He turned his attention back to my hands. Did he have feelings for me? I really wanted to check but I held myself back, he noticed everything. I couldn't risk it. "It happened to my mom. She used to be beautiful. I guess she still is, sort of. But not the way she used to be." Stealing the lines from Rose since I did not even know how my mother looked. "I haven't seen her in a while. She could look completely different for all I know." "You don't like your mother?" he observed. "I don't know my mother." I decided to tell him honestly. It was the truth, I knew she had short red hair and she would be the only female in Stan's class and she was Scottish, hopefully, that would be enough to recognize her. But I would not be hostile to her not like Rose. I did not have the anger in me for her. "What else should she have done?" I know you want to be a guardian. I know how much it means to you. Do you think she feels any differently? Do you think she should have quit to raise you when you'd spend most of your life here anyway?"
"No that is not what I meant. She is very respected and I am sure she is really good at her job. Not everyone is maternal, I know that. But would it kill her to visit more? I don't even know how she looks now, is she safe, is she still alive? I got an email from her when I arrived here. It only said: I am glad you are back, what you did was inexcusable. I haven't heard anything from her since." He nodded thoughtfully. "But I understand that she would not be the type of person that would raise me in a Dhampir commune, she has a strong sense of duty and we would not have fit in there." I was not going to insult it since I knew Dimitri came from one. "I was raised in a Dhampir commune. They aren't as bad as people think. But from what I heard of your mother, you are right she would not have fit in there." "Did you grow up with a family?" I asked him more about his family. "My mother, grandmother, and two sisters. I didn't see them much after I went to school, but we kept in touch. Mostly, the communities are about family. There's a lot of love there, no matter what stories you've heard." "I don't take much stock in stories anymore, people lie or exaggerate too much to believe in stories," I said bitterly.
"Is it weird, if there are a lot of Moroi men visiting?" "Sometimes." He told me, his hands rubbing circles into mine. There was something dangerous in his tone, something that told me this was an unwelcome topic. "I -- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something bad ...." "Actually ... you probably wouldn't think it's bad," he said after almost a minute passed. A tight smile formed on his lips. "You don't remember your father do you?" I shook my head. "No. All I know he must have had wicked cool hair." Dimitri glanced up, and his eyes swept me. "Yes. He must have."
Returning to my hands, he said carefully. "I knew mine." I froze. "Really? Most Moroi guys don't stay -- I mean some do, but you know, usually they just --" This got awkward really fast. "Well, he liked my mother." He didn't say like in a nice way. "And he visited her a lot. He's my sister's father too. But when he came .... well, he didn't treat my mother very well. He did some horrible things." "Like what?" I whispered I was not going the Rose way this time, it felt too insensitive. "Like beating her up kinds of things," he replied flatly. He was now finished with the bandages but was still holding my hands. I don't think he noticed. His hands were warm and large, with long graceful fingers. "That's horrible. And she just let it happen?" "She did." The corner of his mouth turned up in a sly sad smile. "But I didn't." I grinned at him. "You did not?" I laughed. "How old were you?" "Thirteen." I laughed. "Serves him right. I'm sorry that had to happen to you."
"It's all right." "I know you heard the rumors about me and Jesse and Ralph." "I know it is not true." I smiled at him. "With the way you worry more about Lissa than yourself, none of the things in your file makes sense. You understand your responsibilities better than guardians twice your age. You'll do what you have to do to succeed." I thought about that and decided to go with the Rose line again. "I don't know if I can do everything I have to do." He did that cool one-eye-brow thing. "I don't want to cut my hair," I told him and he looked at me puzzled. "You don't have to cut your hair. It's not required." "All the guardian women do. They show off their tattoos." Unexpectedly, he released my hands and leaned forward. Slowly, he reached out and held a lock of my hair, twisting it around one of his fingers thoughtfully. I froze, and for a moment, there was the flutter in my stomach again, I tried to beat it back.
He let go of my hair, looking a little surprised -- and embarrassed -- at what he'd done. "Don't cut it, " he said gruffly. "No one will see my tattoos if I don't." He moved towards the doorway, and a small smile was playing over his lips. "Wear it up."