“What the hell was that?” I exclaimed.

“My job. Can you please call me the next time this happens?” She started to turn away.

“Wait! I can’t call you-I have no idea who you are.”

She glanced back at me and brushed blond hair out of her face. “Really? You’re serious, aren’t you? I thought you were all taught about us when you graduated.”

“Oh, well. Funny thing… I kind of, uh, didn’t graduate.”

Sydney’s eyes widened. “You took down one of those… things… but never graduated?”

I shrugged, and she remained silent for several seconds.

Finally, she sighed again and said, “I guess we need to talk.”

Did we ever. Meeting her had to be the strangest thing that had happened to me since coming to Russia. I wanted to know why she thought I should have been in contact with her and how she’d dissolved that Strigoi corpse. And, as we returned to the busy streets and walked toward a cafe she liked, it occurred to me that if she knew about the Moroi world, there might be a chance she also knew where Dimitri’s village was.

Dimitri. There he was again, popping back into my mind. I had no clue if he really would be lurking near his hometown, but I had nothing else to go on at this point. Again, that weird feeling came over me. My mind blurred Dimitri’s face with that of the Strigoi I’d just killed: pale skin, red ringed eyes…

No, I sternly told myself. Don’t focus on that yet. Don’t panic. Until I faced Dimitri the Strigoi, I would gain the most strength from remembering the Dimitri I loved, with his deep brown eyes, warm hands, fierce embrace…

“Are you okay… um, whatever your name is?”

Sydney was staring at me strangely, and I realized we’d come to a halt in front of a restaurant. I didn’t know what look I wore on my face, but it must have been enough to raise even her attention. Until now, my impression as we walked had been that she wanted to speak to me as little as possible.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” I said brusquely, putting on my guardian face. “And I’m Rose. Is this the place?”

It was. The restaurant was bright and cheery, albeit a far cry from the Nightingale’s opulence. We slid into a black leather-by which I mean fake plastic leather-booth, and I was delighted to see the menu had both American and Russian food. The listings were translated into English, and I nearly drooled when I saw fried chicken. I was starving after not eating at the club, and the thought of deep-fried meat was luxurious after weeks of cabbage dishes and so-called McDonald’s.

A waitress arrived, and Sydney ordered in fluent Russian, whereas I just pointed at the menu. Huh. Sydney was just full of surprises. Considering her harsh attitude, I expected her to interrogate me right away, but when the waitress left, Sydney remained quiet, simply playing with her napkin and avoiding eye contact. It was so strange. She was definitely uncomfortable around me. Even with the table between us, it was like she couldn’t get far enough away. Yet her earlier outrage hadn’t been faked, and she’d been adamant about me following whatever these rules of hers were.

Well, she might have been playing coy, but I had no such hesitation about busting into uncomfortable topics. In fact, it was kind of my trademark.

“So, are you ready to tell me who you are and what’s going on?”

Sydney looked up. Now that we were in brighter light, I could see that her eyes were brown. I also noticed that she had an interesting tattoo on her lower left cheek. The ink looked like gold, something I’d never seen before. It was an elaborate design of flowers and leaves and was only really visible when she tilted her head certain ways so that the gold caught the light.

“I told you,” she said. “I’m an Alchemist.”

“And I told you, I don’t know what that is. Is it some Russian word?” It didn’t sound like one.

A half-smile played on her lips. “No. I take it you’ve never heard of alchemy either?”

I shook my head, and she propped her chin up with her hand, eyes staring down at the table again. She swallowed, like she was bracing herself, and then a rush of words came out. “Back in the Middle Ages, there were these people who were convinced that if they found the right formula or magic, they could turn lead into gold. Unsurprisingly, they couldn’t. This didn’t stop them from pursuing all sorts of other mystical and supernatural stuff, and eventually they did find something magical.” She frowned. “Vampires.”

I thought back to my Moroi history classes. The Middle Ages were when our kind really started pulling away from humans, hiding out and keeping to ourselves. That was the time when vampires truly became myth as far as the rest of the world was concerned, and even Moroi were regarded as monsters worth hunting.

Sydney verified my thoughts. “And that was when the Moroi began to stay away. They had their magic, but humans were starting to outnumber them. We still do.” That almost brought a smile to her face. Moroi sometimes had trouble conceiving, whereas humans seemed to have too easy a time. “And the Moroi made a deal with the Alchemists. If the Alchemists would help Moroi and dhampirs and their societies stay secret from humans, the Moroi would give us these.” She touched the golden tattoo.

“What is that?” I asked. “I mean, aside from the obvious.”

She gently stroked it with her fingertips and didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm when she spoke. “My guardian angel. It’s actually gold and”-she grimaced and dropped her hand-“Moroi blood, charmed with water and earth.”

“What?” My voice came out too loud, and some people in the restaurant turned to look at me. Sydney continued speaking, her tone much lower and very bitter.

“I’m not thrilled about it, but it’s our ‘reward’ for helping you guys. The water and earth bind it to our skin and give us the same traits Moroi have well, a couple of them. I almost never get sick. I’ll live a long life.”

“I guess that sounds good,” I said uncertainly.

“Maybe for some. We don’t have a choice. This ‘career’ is a family thing-it gets passed down. We all have to learn about Moroi and dhampirs. We work connections among humans that let us cover up for you since we can move around more freely. We’ve got tricks and techniques to get rid of Strigoi bodies-like that potion you saw. In return, though, we want to stay apart from you as much as we can-which is why most dhampirs aren’t told about us until they graduate. And Moroi hardly ever.” She abruptly stopped. I guessed the lesson was over.

My head was reeling. I had never, never considered anything like this-wait. Had I? Most of my education had emphasized the physical aspects of being a guardian: watchfulness, combat, etc. Yet every so often I’d heard vague references to those out in the human world who would help hide Moroi or get them out of weird and dangerous situations. I’d never thought much about it or heard the term Alchemist. If I had stayed in school, maybe I would have.

This probably wasn’t an idea I should have suggested, but my nature couldn’t help it. “Why keep the charm to yourselves? Why not share it with the human world?”

“Because there’s an extra part to its power. It stops us from speaking about your kind in a way that would endanger or expose them.”

A charm that bound them from speaking… that sounded suspiciously like compulsion. All Moroi could use compulsion a little, and most could put some of their magic into objects to give them certain properties. Moroi magic had changed over the years, and compulsion was regarded as an immoral thing now. I was guessing this tattoo was an old, old spell that had come down through the centuries.

I replayed the rest of what Sydney had said, more questions spinning in my head. “Why… why do you want to stay away from us? I mean, not that I’m looking to become BFFs or anything…”

“Because it’s our duty to God to protect the rest of humanity from evil creatures of the night.” Absentmindedly, her hand went to something at her neck. It was mostly covered by her jacket, but a parting of her collar briefly revealed a golden cross.