“Neil, there’s no easy way to say this . . . and I’m so sorry to be the one telling you . . . but Olive died two nights ago.”
Neil made no sound at all, but his face went white, so white I thought he might pass out. “No,” he said at last, after several long moments of agonized silence. “No, that’s impossible.” He shook his head adamantly. “No.”
“A Strigoi killed her,” I said. Whereas I’d initially struggled to find words, I now suddenly found myself rushing forward, unable to stop. “She was staying in a dhampir commune. In Michigan. A small group of Strigoi attacked it, breaking through the wards somehow. We think they got a human to pull one of the warding stakes up. Regardless, they got in, and Olive was caught when she was running away and—”
“Wait,” interrupted Neil. In the blink of an eye, his stricken face had turned hard and skeptical. “Olive wouldn’t run away from a fight. Certainly not from a group of Strigoi. She of all people would stand her ground.”
That terrible agony ripped through me. “She was running away to protect her baby. Declan—the baby my mom is taking care of.”
Another heavy silence filled the room as the weight of those words sunk in. I wished then that I’d waited for Sydney. She would have done a more eloquent job explaining this.
“And it wasn’t even the Strigoi she was running from,” I said, when Neil only continued to stare at me in shock. “Neil, the baby, Declan . . . he’s yours. Your son. You’re the father.”
Disbelief returned to Neil’s features, but this time it was more stunned than angry. “We both know that’s not true,” he said. “Was that . . . was that why she ran? Did she think I’d judge her? We had no real commitments, not truly. I was crazy about her, it’s true, but there was just—”
“The one time, I know,” I finished. “But that’s all it took. Somehow, something happened to her when she was restored from being a Strigoi that let her conceive a baby with you. I didn’t believe it either until I looked at him more closely with my magic. There’s definitely a spiritual, I don’t know, residue on him. It’s crazy, I know. But he is yours.”
Neil sat on the bed, so still he could have been a statue. I understood his grief and sat beside him. “Neil, I’m so sorry.”
“Olive’s dead,” he said numbly. He looked up at me and blinked back tears. “If what you’re saying is true—if somehow, through some sort of magic, that baby is mine, then why didn’t Olive tell me herself? Why’d she run away?”
“Because she was afraid of that magic,” I said. “And she was afraid of what people would say or do—both the Moroi and the Alchemists. She hid him to protect him from being treated like a freak of nature, and I promised to help protect him.”
Neil stared blankly for several moments, and then I think hearing about protection woke up his better instincts. “Who knows? Who knows about D-Declan?”
“About his true nature?” I gestured to myself. “Only me and Sydney. Rose and Dimitri know he’s Olive’s, as do a couple of people back at the commune. That’s it. We thought it was safest that as few people know about him as possible. If they knew that somehow, probably through Olive being restored, dhampirs could have kids . . . well, it’d shock a lot of people. Some would be happy, some curious. They’d all want to learn more about him, and that’s not what Olive wanted.”
Neil remained silent and nearly as motionless as Alicia had been.
“Neil?” I said, a little unnerved by his shell-shocked state. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help you. We’ll make sure Olive’s wishes are honored—that Declan lives a happy, normal life. Once this business with Jill is over, we’ll get you and Declan together and—”
“No,” said Neil, suddenly coming to life. He looked up at me sharply, and though his expression was hard, there was a terrible sadness in his voice. “I can’t ever see him again.”
Chapter 17
THE WARRIORS’ COMPOUND WAS QUIET and still as I crept through the night. Trey and Sabrina had said the Warriors could have wild parties when they wanted, but when curfews and discipline were laid down, everyone obeyed. That was certainly the case now. Most people were tucked away in their dorms, and the people who passed me as I crept invisibly toward the masters’ headquarters were those on patrol. None of them seemed to expect much to happen overnight, and they made their rounds with relaxed confidence.
Another open window allowed me to slip inside the masters’ building easily, right in front of a guard assigned to watch at the front door. Inside, I found mostly quiet and empty rooms, and like in my building, most of the doorways were open. There were, of course, a few rooms with real doors, and as luck would have it, it was in one of those that the masters chose to have a meeting. At least, that’s what I assumed was going on. Two guards were posted in front of a closed door, and I could hear muffled voices behind it. Noting its position, I went back outside and circled around to it, hoping I’d find its window open to allow me to climb in and spy. When I reached it, I found it only partway open, enough to let in air in the hot night but not enough for me to climb through. Sabrina had said one of the masters usually carried pertinent information about their organization at all times—sometimes in hard copy or sometimes on a laptop, depending who it was and how tech savvy he was. My plan had been to rifle through said information in the hopes of finding where Jill might be held. For now, I’d have to start with eavesdropping.
As it turned out, I’d arrived just in time for the beginning of their meeting, which I initially thought was a stroke of luck. It meant I hadn’t missed anything. Unfortunately, it meant I had to endure a lot of preliminary material—including more of those absurd psalms. Then someone got sidetracked and started asking about baseball scores. All the while, I was conscious of my invisibility. It was long lasting, but not that long lasting, and it was a relief when the group finally started talking about the business of the day.
“All in all, it was a strong showing,” a voice I recognized as Master Angeletti’s said. “We had a good turnout, and they put on a commendable show.”
“Some were a little out of line,” a sullen voice grumbled. I knew that one too: Chris Juarez.
Master Angeletti laughed. “Still put out that that girl tricked you? I say more power to her. We need more thinkers around here.”