“Rose? Are you okay?” Viktoria was peering at me with concern, probably because I hadn’t said anything in the last ten minutes.

We had circled around and were almost back at her house. Looking at her, at her open, friendly face and eyes that were so much like Dimitri’s, I realized I had another task ahead of me before I could go after Dimitri, wherever he was. I swallowed.

“I… yeah. I think… I think I need to sit down with you and the rest of your family.”

“Okay,” she said, the worry still in her voice.

Inside the house, Olena was bustling around the kitchen with Karolina. I thought they were making plans for tonight’s dinner, which was startling considering we’d just finished a huge breakfast. I could definitely get used to the way they ate around here. In the living room, Paul was building an elaborate racetrack out of Legos. Yeva sat in a rocking chair and appeared to be the world’s most stereotypical grandmother as she knit a pair of socks. Except most grandmothers didn’t look like they could incinerate you with a single glance.

Olena was talking to Karolina in Russian but switched to English when she saw me. “You two are back earlier than I expected.”

“We saw the town,” said Viktoria. “And… Rose wanted to talk to you. To all of us.”

Olena gave me a look as puzzled and concerned as Viktoria’s. “What’s going on?”

The weight of all those Belikov eyes on me made my heart start thumping in my chest. How was I going to do this? How could I explain something I hadn’t spoken about in weeks? I couldn’t stand to put them-or myself-through it. When Yeva scuttled in, it made things that much worse.

Maybe she’d had some mystical sense that something big was about to go down.

“We should sit,” I said.

Paul stayed in the living room, for which I was grateful. I was pretty sure I couldn’t handle saying what I had to with a little kid-one who looked like Dimitri, apparently-watching me.

“Rose, what’s wrong?” asked Olena. She looked so sweet and, well… motherly, that I nearly cried. Whenever I’d been angry with my own mother for not being around or doing a good job, I’d always compared her to some idealized image of a mom-a mom who seemed a lot like Dimitri’s, I realized. Dimitri’s sisters looked equally worried, like I was someone they’d known forever. That acceptance and concern made my eyes burn even more, seeing as they’d just met me this morning. Yeva wore a very strange expression, however-almost like she’d been expecting something like this all along.

“Well… the thing is, the reason I came here, to Baia, was to find you guys.”

That wasn’t entirely true. I’d come to search for Dimitri. I’d never thought much about finding his family, but now, I realized that it was a good thing I had.

“You see, Viktoria was talking about Dimitri earlier.” Olena’s face brightened when I said her son’s name. “And… I knew-er, know him. He used to be a guardian at my school. My teacher, actually.”

Karolina and Viktoria lit up as well. “How is he?” asked Karolina. “It’s been ages since we’ve seen him. Do you know when he’s going to visit?”

I couldn’t even think about answering her question, so I pushed forward with my story before I lost my courage in front of all those loving faces. As the words came out of my mouth, it was almost like someone else was saying them and I was simply watching from a distance. “A month ago… our school was attacked by Strigoi. A really bad attack… a huge group of Strigoi. We lost a lot of people-Moroi and dhampirs, both.”

Olena exclaimed in Russia. Viktoria leaned toward me. “St. Vladimir’s?”

I halted in my story, surprised. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Everyone’s heard of it,” said Karolina. “We all know what happened. That was your school? You were there that night?”

I nodded.

“No wonder you have so many molnija marks,” breathed Viktoria in wonder.

“And that’s where Dimitri’s at now?” asked Olena. “We lost track of his latest assignment.”

“Um, yeah…” My tongue felt thick in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. “I was at the school the night of the attack,” I reaffirmed. “And so was Dimitri.

He was one of the leaders in the battle… and the way he fought… he was… he was so brave… and…”

My words were breaking up, but by this point, the others were catching on. Olena gasped and again murmured in Russian. I picked out the word for “God.” Karolina sat frozen, but Viktoria leaned toward me. Those eyes that were so like her brother’s stared at me intently, as intently as he would if pushing me to tell the truth, no matter how awful.

“What happened?” she demanded. “What happened to Dimitri?”

I looked away from their faces, my eyes drifting to the living room. On the far wall, I caught sight of a bookcase filled with old, leather-covered books. They had gold-embossed lettering on the spines. It was totally random, but I suddenly remembered Dimitri mentioning those. They were these old adventure novels my mother collected, he’d told me once. The covers were so beautiful, and I loved them. If I was careful, she’d let me read them sometimes. The thought of a young Dimitri sitting in front of that bookcase, carefully turning the pages-and oh, he would have been careful-almost made me lose it. Had that been where he’d developed his love of western novels?

I was losing it. I was getting distracted. I wasn’t going to be able to tell them the truth. My emotions were growing too powerful, my memories flooding me as I fought to think about something-anything-that didn’t involve that horrible battle.

Then I glanced at Yeva again, and something about her eerie, knowing expression inexplicably spurred me on. I had to do this. I turned back to the others. “He fought really bravely in the battle, and afterward, he helped lead a rescue mission to save some people that the Strigoi had captured.

He was really amazing there, too, only… he…”

I stopped again and realized tears were running down my cheeks. In my mind, I was replaying that awful scene in the cave, with Dimitri so close to freedom and taken by a Strigoi at the last minute. Shaking that thought away, I took another deep breath. I had to finish this. I owed it to his family.

There was no gentle way to say it. “One of the Strigoi there… well, he overpowered Dimitri.”

Karolina buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, and Olena made no effort to hide her own tears. Viktoria wasn’t crying, but her face had gone perfectly still. She was working hard to keep her emotions in check, just as Dimitri would have. She searched my face, needing to know for sure.

“Dimitri is dead,” she said.

It was a statement, not a question, but she was looking to me for confirmation. I wondered if I’d given away something, some hint that there was still more to the story. Or maybe she just needed the certainty of those words. And for a moment, I considered telling them that Dimitri was dead.

It was what the Academy would tell them, what the guardians would tell them. It would be easier on them… but somehow, I couldn’t stand to lie to them-even if it was a comforting lie. Dimitri would have wanted the whole truth, and his family would too.

“No,” I said, and for a heartbeat, hope sprang up in everyone’s faces-at least until I spoke again. “Dimitri’s a Strigoi.”