The Ruby Circle

Chapter 9 Adrian

“SO THIS IS CANADA,” I SAID, looking outside my car door.

“For the last time, it’s not Canada,” Sydney replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s northern Michigan.”

I glanced around, seeing nothing but enormous trees in every direction. Despite it being a late August afternoon, the temperature could’ve easily passed for something in autumn. Craning my head, I just barely caught a glimpse of gray waters beyond the trees to my right: Lake Superior, according to the map I’d seen.

“Maybe it’s not Canada,” I conceded. “But it’s exactly how I always imagined Canada would look. Except I thought there’d be more hockey.”

Sydney gave me an indulgent smile as she slid out of the backseat and stood beside me. “It’s a lot different from Iowa.”

“That’s for sure,” I agreed, slipping my arm around her as we admired the scenery.

It was crazy to think how far we’d come in less than twenty-four hours. After convincing Rose and Dimitri to go with us to the dhampir commune, we’d had to wait for Dimitri to use his resources and confirm where Olive’s medallion was linked to. He’d gotten back to us fairly quickly, revealing that the symbol on the necklace was used by a commune in Michigan’s upper peninsula. He and Rose had then begun a series of convoluted flights to get there from Court. Sydney and I had chosen the more direct route, hopping back in the car and driving twelve hours. It had been exhausting, given how little sleep we’d gotten, but we’d traded off driving and napping. It had also given us little opportunity to discuss the larger issues that still loomed over us. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

“Come on,” said Rose, hopping out of the SUV’s passenger seat. “It looks like the entrance is that way.” We’d rendezvoused with her and Dimitri in Houghton and then taken their more rugged rental vehicle out here to the packed-earth parking lot we now found ourselves in. Several other cars with Michigan plates were parked beside our rental, most of them the kind of heavy-duty models needed for life out in the wilderness. Admittedly, we were only an hour from Houghton, but it was hardly what you’d call a major metropolitan area. It had the basics—grocery stores, a hospital, Starbucks, even a university—but that was about it. Once you left the city limits, you were almost immediately out in the woods again. That was all I could see right now, and it took me a moment to spot the opening to the trailhead that Rose indicated.

“Narrow,” I remarked as Sydney and I followed her and Dimitri over to it. The trail itself was clear, but around it, the thick forest was difficult to pass through.

“By design,” he said, setting off like he did this sort of hike all the time. Probably it was how he’d gotten to school every day in Siberia. “Makes it harder for Strigoi to come through.”

“I bet it’s a real bitch to get through in the winter,” I added. I swore as a low branch snagged my coat.

Careful, warned Aunt Tatiana. That’s Italian leather.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of them left for the winter,” Dimitri remarked. “This is an ideal summer location—somewhat high latitude. In peak summer, there’s probably only five hours without daylight. If you’ve got that and some solid wards, you can hold out relatively well against attacks—especially when it’s a group of dhampirs we’re talking about. They put up a good fight.”

I could believe that and stayed silent as I focused on paying attention to my footing and not eating any gnats. My muscles were stiff from so much time in the car, and the movement actually felt good. When Dimitri had said the medallion symbol was linked to a place called Wild Pine Intentional Community, I’d had no idea what we’d be getting into. Apparently, “intentional community” was the modern name for a commune, and they were something that humans still formed nowadays too. I’d also learned—thanks to Sydney’s endless knowledge on the drive here—that a lot of communes weren’t just hippie love fests à la the 1960s. Some were very modern but embraced green ways of living. Some were little more than campgrounds. Dimitri had told us in Houghton that this particular dhampir community likely fell somewhere in the middle. I was crossing my fingers for something on the more modern side, maybe like a secret wooded resort. Images of the Ewok village from Return of the Jedi came to mind.

“I just hope they have plumbing,” Rose said. “That was the rough part about staying with the Keepers.”

“I was actually okay with that,” Sydney said unexpectedly. “It was the questionable meat I had a problem with.”

“Whoa, no plumbing?” I exclaimed. My brain had trouble wrapping itself around how you’d even function in such a scenario.

“Better get used to the idea,” Rose teased, glancing back at me. “Liss may not let you guys come back. When this is all over, you two may end up living with the Keepers.”

“I’m sure we can find some alternative before resorting to that,” I said loftily, not wanting to admit how uncertain I was about our future.

Dimitri didn’t share Rose’s amusement. “If the Alchemists are still after her, I’m sure Lissa will let you return to your suite.”

Won’t that be fun, noted Aunt Tatiana. More close quarters with your mother, none of you ever wanting to go out and face the other Moroi.

“That’s no kind of life,” I murmured, thinking of how trapped both Sydney and I had felt. I hadn’t fully realized it until we’d left and had some breathing room. Even when we were fighting, the vibe between us was more electric when we had our freedom. Meeting Sydney’s eyes, I knew she was thinking the same thing and was full of the same questions I had about what our future held. Unfortunately, we weren’t likely to get any answers right away. We could only focus on the immediate concerns. Jill. Olive.

Dimitri came to a halt and pointed off toward the woods. “Look. The beginning of the wards.”

I followed his motion and caught a glimpse of silver in the underbrush. A charmed silver stake. The dhampirs in this commune would have them placed strategically around their settlement, creating a magical barrier to keep Strigoi out. The undead couldn’t cross that kind of power, but it required constant maintenance. If the bonds weakened or someone moved a stake out of place, Strigoi would be able to come through. It was a concern all Moroi and dhampir communities had. The wards at Court were checked several times a day.

We had just passed the stake when a figure suddenly stepped out of the woods and onto the path in front of Dimitri, who struck a defensive stance at the sight of the newcomer and then relaxed when he saw it was a dhampir. She too wore a tough, ready-for-anything expression, along with both a gun and a silver stake at her belt. A medallion around her neck was an exact copy of Olive’s—save that it was edged in blue, not green. The woman’s face softened a little as she took in Rose and Dimitri, then hardened again at the sight of me.

“Greetings,” she said. “You’re looking for Wild Pine?”

Rose squeezed up beside Dimitri, which wasn’t easy on the narrow path. “We’re looking for a friend of ours,” she said. “We think she’s staying with you.”

After assessing Rose and Dimitri, the dhampir woman nodded congenially at Sydney and then turned downright hostile when she looked me over. “And him? What’s he looking for?”

“The girl we’re looking for is my friend too,” I said, surprised at her reaction. “I told her sister I’d find her.”

Our hostess looked skeptical, and I wondered what was up with that. I’d think it was dhampir solidarity, except that she’d seemed fine with Sydney. Probably the woman had seen Sydney’s lily tattoo and assumed she was doing some routine Alchemist visit. That still didn’t explain my cold welcome. “What’s your friend’s name?” the woman asked.

“Olive Sinclair,” I replied.

Immediately, a look of distaste filled the woman’s eyes, but it was clearly in regard to me, not Olive. “So you’re the one who got her in trouble.”

“The one who . . .” The meaning became clear, and I found myself blushing—something I’d maybe done twice in my life. “What? No! Of course not. I mean, if I did, I’d never—that is—I’m not the kind of guy who—”

“No,” said Dimitri bluntly. “Adrian’s not responsible. His intentions are honorable here. I’ll vouch for him. I’m Dimitri Belikov. This is Rose Hathaway, Sydney Ivashkov.”

Normally, a human introduced with a royal Moroi last name would have warranted a double take. But it was clear this woman never heard anything past Rose and Dimitri’s names. I saw it clearly in her eyes: the same awe and worship I’d observed in so many other faces whenever this dynamic duo introduced itself. And like that, the woman turned from fiercely protective doorkeeper to swooning fangirl.

“Omigod,” she gushed. “I thought you looked familiar! I’ve seen your pictures! I should’ve known right away! I’m so embarrassed. Come on, come on. I’m Mallory, by the way. Let’s not stand around in the woods! You must have done a lot of traveling to get here. Come rest. Get something to eat. Omigod.”

We followed her down the narrow trail, which eventually opened up to a huge clearing in the forest. It turned out Wild Pine really was kind of a cross between a camp and a resort. Actually, it kind of reminded me of a Wild West town after all. I could totally picture a shoot-out happening. Nice-looking cabins were arranged in orderly rows and seemed to be divided into business and residential areas. Dhampirs, almost entirely women and children, moved about their business, some pausing to give us speculative looks. Mallory led us toward a large cabin that was situated between the business and residential areas, bouncing with each step she took.

We entered what seemed to be a sort of office, and the first thing I noticed was that they had electricity. I took that as a good omen for plumbing. An older dhampir woman, her blond hair streaked with silver, sat at a desk, clicking something on a computer. She too wore a blue-edged medallion. When she saw us, she stood up and looped her fingers through the belt on her jeans as she leaned against the wall, showing off tooled leather boots that further reinforced my Wild West stereotypes.

“Well, what did you turn up, Mallory?” she asked with amusement.

“Lana, you’ll never believe who this is,” exclaimed Mallory. “It’s—”

“Rose Hathaway and Dimitri Belikov,” supplied Lana. Her eyes then fell on Sydney and me, and she arched an eyebrow. “And Adrian Ivashkov and his infamous wife. I’ve been to Court. I know who the celebrities are.”

“We’re not celebrities,” I assured her, putting my arm around Sydney and nodding toward Rose and Dimitri. “Not like those two.”

Lana’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at us. “Aren’t you? Your marriage has been the source of a lot of speculation.”

“I think that makes us more of a source of a gossip than celebrities.” Although, as soon as the words left my mouth, I wondered whether there was any real difference between the two.

“Well, I’m delighted to meet you. All of you.” Lana walked forward and shook our hands. “I’ve also heard from Olive how you’ve done some pretty fancy work to create a Strigoi vaccine, Lord Ivashkov.”

I started to say we weren’t having much luck on the vaccine, but something more important in her words drew my attention. “You know Olive.”

“Of course,” Lana said. “I know everyone here.”

“Lana’s our leader,” explained Mallory.

Lana actually guffawed. “I’m more of an administrator. I assume it’s Olive you’re here to see?”

“If you’ll allow it,” said Dimitri politely. “We’d be grateful for any assistance you can offer.”

“Not up to me. It’s up to Olive.” Lana held us in her gaze for a few moments, as though deciding something. At last, she gave a small nod. “I’ll take you to her myself. But first, have some dinner and relax. I know it’s not easy getting here.”

We thanked her for her hospitality, but it was hard to relax, knowing we were so close to finding Olive. I’d given Rose and Dimitri the full rundown on her story when we’d met up in Houghton—at least as much as I knew about it. They were as concerned as I was and also concurred that there was probably something sinister going on if she felt such a strong need to hide her pregnancy. I got the impression that if she had been taken advantage of—and Dimitri found out who was responsible—there were going to be some serious consequences.

Dinner turned out to be chicken salad sandwiches, a surprisingly ordinary meal to be eating in a wilderness resort of half vampires. Sydney didn’t even hesitate before biting into hers, which I thought spoke legions about how far she’d come in dealing with Moroi. Lana meanwhile made it clear to me there were no official feeders around here and that I shouldn’t even think of soliciting blood from any of the Wild Pine dhampirs. There was a catch in her voice as she spoke, however, and combined with what I knew about these communes, I suspected there were dhampirs here who sold their blood to Moroi as freely as they sold their bodies for sex. It was the dark side of these camps, what had given them such a bad reputation. It certainly wasn’t a practice they all engaged in, but it happened frequently enough.

After dinner, Lana was true to her word and led us out herself, giving us a brief tour of the community. As I’d suspected, some of the buildings doubled as businesses.

“We make regular runs into Houghton for supplies,” she explained. “But we also try to be as self-sustaining as we can. We grow a lot of our own food and even make some of our own clothes.” She nodded to one cabin where two dhampir women sat sewing on the porch by lantern light, now that twilight was fast moving in. They waved back in greeting. She pointed out other buildings as we passed them. “That’s Jody’s shop—she can fix anything. And that right there’s our medical center, such as it is. April’s in charge of it, but she’s out of town getting supplies. The things she needs are a little harder to make. Over there is Briana’s school.”

“You’ve got some solar panels over there,” Sydney remarked. “Smart idea out here.”

Lana beamed, clearly proud. “That was Talia’s idea. We get some electricity wired in, but she felt we should have a renewable source on hand.”

I noted all the women’s names and also noted that aside from some of the children, everyone in this community was female. So, it was kind of a shock when I caught a glimpse of a Moroi man walking between a group of cabins set off a bit from the others. Seeing my gaze, Lana scowled and gave a resigned sigh.

“Yes. That’s where the girls who want to ‘entertain’ male guests live.”

“Why don’t you keep them out?” asked Dimitri, his expression dark.

“Because there are some girls who would do it anyway. They’d sneak off, live somewhere unsafe. I’d rather keep everything under my control. Some guys just want a good time, and there are girls who accept that and expect nothing more . . .” As she spoke, Lana watched the Moroi guy I’d seen. A dhampir girl hung on his arm, and they were laughing as they walked past us, caught up in some private conversation. She appeared to be walking him to the community’s exit, and I noted her medallion was ringed in red. Lana turned back to us when they were gone. “Other guys are nothing but trouble. Those are the ones I need to keep an eye on—and sometimes the ones we have to forcibly remove.”

“Any idea what kind of guy Olive was involved with?” I asked.

Lana began walking again, leading us to a section of residential cabins away from the one the Moroi guy had been in. “No. It’s her business, so I haven’t pushed. She hasn’t had any gentleman callers, I can tell you that. Doesn’t seem to have any romantic interests.”

“She’s got a pretty decent dhampir guy interested in her,” I said. “But she cut off ties with him. And everyone else.”

“Damn shame,” said Lana. We came to a halt in front of a cute cabin with green shutters. “But who am I to judge? We’re all fighting our own battles, the best way we can.”

Pretty wise for a backwoods wannabe sheriff, said Aunt Tatiana.

I mulled Lana’s words over as she knocked on the cabin’s door. A dhampir woman with wildly curly hair answered, grinning when she saw Lana. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, Diana.” Lana kissed her on the cheek. “Is Olive around?”

Diana studied our group, her gaze lingering on me the longest. I hated that everyone around here assumed the worst. It was a sad state of affairs when even an Alchemist didn’t get the suspicion a Moroi guy did. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll go get her.”

Diana disappeared inside the cabin. I found I was holding my breath as we waited to see what would happen. Sensing my anticipation, Sydney squeezed my hand.

“I just can’t believe we’re about to see her after everything that’s happened. No lava monsters. No spirit battles.” I had to pause as my voice caught. “I feel like if I can connect with Olive here, help her, then I won’t have failed Nina . . .”

Sydney’s hold on me tightened. “You didn’t fail her, Adrian. She made those choices.”

Maybe if you’d been stronger, maybe if you’d used more spirit in the dream . . . Aunt Tatiana’s voice paused in my head as she let me ponder that thought. Well, maybe Nina wouldn’t be in her current state.

Be quiet, I snapped back to the phantom voice. Sydney’s right. It’s not my fault. Nina made those choices.

If you say so, said Aunt Tatiana.

Olive stepped out onto the porch just then, wearing the same homemade clothes I’d seen in the dream. And also just like in the dream, she was very obviously pregnant. She started to smile when she saw Lana, then froze when she caught sight of the rest of us.

“No,” she said, backing up. “No, no, no.”

Rose leapt forward. “Olive, wait. Please. We want to talk to you. We want to help you.”

Olive shook her head frantically, and Lana put an arm around her. “Honey, you really should talk to them.”

“I don’t want to!” Olive exclaimed. She glanced from face to face, looking like a trapped animal as we all gathered around, and my heart went out to her. When her gaze fell on Sydney, she did a double take. “An Alchemist!”

“I’m not with them anymore,” Sydney said. “I’m here to help you, just like everyone else.”

“You know Sydney,” I reminded Olive. “You can trust her.”

Olive still looked frightened but at last dragged her attention from Sydney. “I don’t have anything to say to any of you!”

“Then don’t say anything,” I said. “Just listen. Take a walk with me. Just me. Let me tell you what’s been going on with Nina. I’ll do all the taking.”

Her sister’s name drew Olive back from where she’d been about to retreat inside the cabin. She brushed long strands of black hair out of her face, peering at me with tear-filled eyes. “Nina? Is she okay? In that dream . . .”

I gestured past me. “Let’s take a walk. I’ll tell you everything.”

After several moments of hesitation, Olive nodded and stepped off the porch. Sydney understood my cautious approach and quietly kept her distance. Rose, on the other hand, clearly wanted to come with Olive and me, but I gave her a quick shake of the head. Dimitri rested his hand on her arm to emphasize the point. I knew Olive liked Rose and Dimitri, and they certainly meant well, but right now, they were too much. Fear of being interrogated by a group was probably the reason she’d sought refuge here in the woods. I gave her a reassuring smile and nearly used a touch of compulsion to calm her but decided against it at the last minute. If she’d grown up around a spirit-using sister, she might recognize the signs and feel like I was trying to take advantage of her.

“Nice place,” I remarked as we set out down a trail between the cabins. Tall trees created a canopy above us, and birds sang to the sunset up in the branches.

“Tell me about Nina,” Olive said, wasting no time with small talk. “Is she okay?”

I hesitated. “Kind of. What she did in that last dream we were in . . . well, it involved a lot of spirit. A lot.” I tried to find a delicate way to put it, without saying that Nina had burned herself out or possibly lost her mind. “That much spirit takes a toll on you. They tell me right now she’s, uh, sleeping a lot and not making much sense. But that may change. She may be fine once she has time to recover.”

Olive stared bleakly ahead. “Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? Why’d she insist on trying to find me? She should never have put herself at risk like that!”

“She loves you,” I said. “And I think Neil does too.”

Tears filled Olive’s eyes again. “Oh, Neil. How can I tell him what’s happened?”

I stopped and faced her. “Look, whatever it is, he’ll understand. He won’t care what some other guy did to you—well, I mean, he’ll want to kick that guy’s ass—but he’s not going to judge you or hold it against you. He’s crazy about you. He’ll help you and support you. We all will.”

Confusion replaced her despair. “‘Some other guy’?”

“Well . . . yeah.” I glanced down at her rounded stomach. “I mean, there was obviously some Moroi guy involved. And if he did this against your will, you need to let us know. He needs to be brought to justice.”

It felt ludicrous using the term “brought to justice” in this faux Wild West town, but Olive’s puzzled look said it was lost on her. “No, no. You . . . you don’t understand. You don’t understand at all.”

“Then help me,” I said, catching hold of her hands. “Help me to understand so that I can help you. I promised Nina I would.”

“Adrian? Is that you?”

The voice calling me wasn’t immediately familiar, and I slowly turned from Olive to see who was speaking. We’d set out walking at random, and the place we’d stopped gave us a good vantage on what I thought of as the “Red Light District Cabins.” Another Moroi guy appeared to be leaving one of those cabins, and from the stagger in his steps, he’d been enjoying happy hour out in the woods.

“It is you!” the man exclaimed, smacking his leg in triumph. “I knew it.”

A few more seconds, and recognition set in. “Uncle Rand?” I asked in disbelief.

He strode on up to us and grinned. “The same.”

I could hardly believe it. In my life, I’d come to expect any number of fantastic and wondrous things to happen in day-to-day affairs. Spirit battles? No problem. My wife turning into a cat? Sure, go for it. So it was astonishing that the sight of a relative I hadn’t thought about in years would so completely floor me. Rand Ivashkov was my dad’s older brother, someone I’d neither seen nor thought about since I was a child. Rand hadn’t been disowned—not officially—but it had been clear to me from an early age that everyone preferred it when he wasn’t around. My father had assumed his responsibilities at Court and sent Rand out of the country on errands that were mostly meant to keep him out of the way and give him things he couldn’t screw up. Once, when I’d gotten in trouble as a teen at an illicit party, my mother had urged my father to go easy on punishing me. “After all,” she’d said, “it’s not like he’s as bad as your brother.”

He’s a screwup, whispered Aunt Tatiana. A disgrace. More consumed with women and wine than family honor.

Doesn’t sound that different from me, I admitted.

She scoffed. Hardly. Your family never shipped you off to keep you out of the way.

Last I’d known, Rand was somewhere in Europe. I certainly hadn’t expected to find my uncle in northern Michigan. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Same thing you are,” he said, giving me a wink. He had the same dark green eyes I had, and though there was some silver in his brown hair, it was nowhere near the amount my dad had. Maybe living a life of women and wine was less stressful than living a respectable one on the Moroi Council. Rand was tall, even among Moroi, and had to lean down to leer at Olive, making her cringe against me. “She’s cute,” he said. “And I see you’ve got your own little sideline family going, eh? I’ve got a couple of those myself. These dhampir girls breed like—”

“It’s not like that,” I interrupted, getting tired of explaining this. “I’m not—that is, Olive’s just a friend I’m checking up on.”

Uncle Rand perked up. “So she’s available? I haven’t seen her around—”

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “She’s not available. Look, it’s nice to see you and everything, but this really isn’t the time or place. I have things to do.”

I started to turn away, indicating to Olive that we should head back to Diana’s cabin. To my astonishment, Rand grabbed my arm and turned me back around. That close, the scent of vodka coming off of him nearly knocked me over.

“Don’t be like that!” he said hotly. “A snob like the rest of your family. Your dad and his holier-than-thou wife always acted like I wasn’t good enough to hang out with the rest of you. But look at you now. You’re here, no better than me. And I hear all kinds of things about you too—do you see me judging? We have a lot in common.”

I jerked my arm away. “I don’t think so.”

“You are just like the rest of them!” He lunged toward me, his steps faltering drunkenly. I didn’t know if he was trying to hit me or just grab me again, but I never found out because a tall figure suddenly stepped in between us and sent him flying with a right hook. I looked up and saw Dimitri regarding my uncle, who was now lying sprawled on the grass, with an expression of intense disgust. Rose, Sydney, and Lana came hurrying up to us.

“What the hell’s going on?” exclaimed Rose.

“Thanks,” I told Dimitri. “Though I don’t think we needed quite that much intervention. I was holding my own.”

“He’s an animal,” growled Dimitri. “He has no business being here.”

“Well, I suppose it—” I stopped and reconsidered Dimitri’s words. “Do you know him or something?”

Dimitri eyed me. “Yes. Do you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s my uncle. Rand Ivashkov.”

“Oh?” Dimitri’s hardened expression didn’t change. “He’s my father.”