Blood Promise by Richelle Mead

her.
    “Did you really kill two Strigoi all by yourself?” Paul asked me.
    “Paul,” chastised Karolina. “That’s not a nice question to ask.”
    “But it’s an exciting one,” said Viktoria with a grin. Her brown hair was streaked with gold, but her dark eyes sparkled so much like Dimitri’s when he was excited that it tugged at my heart. Again, I had that taunting sensation of Dimitri being here but not here.
    “She did,” said Sydney. “I saw the bodies. Like always.”
    She wore that comically tormented expression of hers, and I laughed. “At least I left them where you could find them this time.” My humor suddenly dimmed. “Did anyone . . . any other humans notice or hear?”
    “I got rid of the bodies before anyone saw,” she said. “If people heard anything . . . Well, backwoods places like that are always filled with superstitions and ghost stories. They don’t have factual evidence of vampires, per se, but there’s always sort of this belief that the supernatural and dangerous are out there. Little do they know.”
    She said “ghost stories” without any change of expression. I wondered if she’d seen any of the spirits last night but finally decided she probably hadn’t. She’d come outside near the tail end of the fight, and if past evidence was any indication, nobody else could see the spirits I saw—except Strigoi, as it turned out.
    “You must have had some good training then,” said Karolina, shifting so the baby leaned against her shoulder. “You look like you should still be in school.”
    “Just got out,” I said, earning another scrutinizing look from Sydney.
    “You’re American,” said Olena matter-of-factly. “What in the world could bring you out here?”
    “I . . . I’m looking for someone,” I said after a few moments’ hesitation.
    I was afraid they were going to press for details or that she too would have blood whore suspicions, but just then, the kitchen door opened and Dimitri’s grandmother, Yeva, walked in. She had poked her head in earlier and scared the hell out of me. Dimitri had told me that she was a witch of sorts, and I could believe it. She looked like she was a gazil lion years old and was so thin, it was a wonder the wind didn’t blow her away. She barely stood five feet tall, and her hair covered her head in patchy gray wisps. But it was her eyes that truly frightened me. The rest of her might be frail, but those dark eyes were sharp and alert and seemed to bore into my soul. Even without Dimitri’s explanation, I would have taken her for a witch. She was also the only one in the household who didn’t speak English.
    She sat down at one of the empty chairs, and Olena hastily jumped up to get some more blini. Yeva muttered something in Russian that made the others look uncomfortable. Sydney’s lips twitched into a small smile. Yeva’s eyes were on me as she spoke, and I glanced around for translation. “What?” I asked.
    “Grandmother says you’re not telling us the whole truth about why you’re here. She says the longer you delay, the worse it will be,” Viktoria explained. She then gave Sydney an apologetic look. “And she wants to know when the Alchemist is leaving.”
    “As soon as possible,” said Sydney dryly.
    “Well, why I’m here . . . it’s kind of a long story.” Could I be any vaguer?
    Yeva said something else, and Olena retorted with what sounded like a chastisement. To me, she spoke gently: “Ignore her, Rose. She’s in one of her moods. Why you’re here is your own business—although I’m sure Abe would like to talk to you at some point.” She frowned slightly, and I was reminded of the earlier looks at the table. “You should make sure you thank him. He seemed very concerned about you.”
    “I’d kind of like to see him too,” I mumbled, still curious about this well-protected, non-royal Moroi who had given me a ride and seemed to make everyone uneasy. Eager to avoid more talk of why I was here, I