The Ruby Circle (Bloodlines #6)(32)
Author: Richelle Mead

Adrian held up the piece of paper again. “This?” He leaned forward eagerly. “Do you know what it is?”

“Yes, it’s—” Dimitri bit off his words and glanced at Rose, then back at the drawing. “It’s a kind of marker worn by women in, uh, dhampir communes.”

Rose had no problem stating what his delicate sensibilities had held back from. “A blood whore camp?” Her eyes widened, and suddenly, she turned as angry as Lissa had been earlier. “Adrian Ivashkov! You should be ashamed of yourself, going to a place like that, especially now that you’re married—”

Adrian scoffed. “Both of you, calm down. I’ve never set foot in one of those places, nor do I really want to.” He looked back at Dimitri. “What do you mean, it’s a marker?”

I could tell from Dimitri’s face that it wasn’t a topic he liked discussing, and frankly, I didn’t blame him. Moroi society hadn’t always treated dhampir women well. They could only have children with Moroi fathers, fathers who often viewed those women as little more than playthings. The standard practice for dhampir women who had children was to turn those children over early to one of the schools, like St. Vladimir’s, while the mother returned to guardian services. A lot of dhampir women didn’t like doing that, however. They wanted to raise their own children. Some would go off and blend into human society, but that was discouraged. Even if dhampirs looked identical to humans, dhampirs often demonstrated extraordinary physical abilities that called too much attention to them. Without other options, these dhampir women often banded together in “communes,” some more civilized than others. Some dhampir women found perfectly ordinary ways to survive . . . others turned to more desperate paths, which Dimitri confirmed.

“Members of these communes wear markers that show what their role is,” he explained. “Some are residents, some are guests. Some are women making themselves available to interested men—selling their bodies.”

“Disgusting,” said Rose.

I glanced at Adrian’s drawing, and a horrible, terrible thought occurred to me about Olive. Had she become that desperate? “Do you know what kind this is?” I asked.

Dimitri shook his head. “Not without color. These marks identify which commune it is. There’s usually a color on it to signify the person’s status.”

“It was green,” said Adrian.

“Green marks a guest,” Dimitri said. Both Adrian and I exhaled in relief. “Someone living there temporarily. Maybe visiting a relative. Maybe seeking sanctuary.”

“So not someone selling herself?” I clarified. I couldn’t stand the thought of poor Olive doing that.

“No,” said Dimitri, looking puzzled. Rose did as well.

“What’s this all about?” she asked.

Adrian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he held up the paper again for them to see. “Do you know which commune this belongs to? Where it’s at?”

Dimitri studied the drawing a moment before shaking his head. “No . . . but I could probably find out. Why?”

Adrian hesitated again. “Is Lissa still there somewhere? Or is anyone else lurking?”

“No,” said Rose. “It’s just us. Why?”

Adrian glanced at me, and just like that, I knew what he was thinking. “We’re supposed to be lying low,” I reminded him. “Staying out of trouble.”

“Olive could be in a lot of trouble. And if she won’t talk in a dream, maybe going to her in person is the only option we have,” Adrian said. “That and, I mean, come on. If we can’t help Jackie, we might as well help someone else . . .”

Once again, I was torn. My logic said to stay here and stay safe. But my heart—especially when it feared Olive might have been raped like Carly—wanted to go off and help. “There’s no telling what we could be walking into,” I said. “From what I’ve heard, some of those dhampir communes are like the Wild West.”

Adrian grinned at that. “Good thing we’ve got our own cowboy.”

“Um, hello,” said Rose from the screen, her face lined with irritation at being left out of the conversation. “Do you guys want to fill us in on what you’re talking about?”

Adrian looked up, glancing between her and Dimitri. “How would you two like to take a trip with us?”

Chapter 9

“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.