_RUSSIA/ _MARCH

The music pounded through his headphones as he ran at a steady pace on the treadmill. His heart raced pumping blood through his entire body. Sweat ran down his back and into his eyes but he kept going. His breathing quickened and became difficult. Reaching for the control panel, he increased speed and incline. He wanted to run until his legs and lungs burned. They come first, the Guardian mantra repeated over and over his head. A reminder that all he did was for them. It brought out an anger in him.

He channeled that anger into fuel to push himself further and harder. To be better. To never give up, and it was what had made him successful from an early age. He had been consistently ranked at the top of his class until high school when he became the number one student. Of course, it couldn't be denied that his height also contributed to his success. He towered over everyone at the academy, instructors included.

Finally, as the timer reached 60 minutes he slowed to a brisk jog for a cool down before moving onto to his weight training for the day. He began with a series of body weight exercises: push-ups, sit ups, pull ups and then moved onto weights. Cardio and strength training were of equal importance when it came to fighting the evil undead creatures of the night known as Strigoi. He would avoid physical combat at all costs, and only as a last resort would he need to physically overpower the unnatural strength of the Strigoi.

He returned the weights and walked back to his room, sweat drenched his shirt. He showered, dressed, and finally was able to relax a little with a good book and plenty of water. Though it was his day off he was never truly off duty. He could be called at a moment's notice. There was no room in his life for alcohol; his judgment could not be clouded. Not that he minded, as the few times he had tried alcohol, it wasn't to his liking. His indulgence was exceptional coffee.

Just as he settled into his overstuffed armchair there was a knock as his door. Groaning, he answered. It was Fillip, the head of the Guardians in Moscow.

"Dimitri," Fillip said, "I have good news and bad news. May I come in?"

Dimitri stepped back to allow Fillip to enter into his meager apartment. "What is it?"

Fillip removed a large manila envelope from inside his overcoat and handed it to Dimitri. "It appears the Guardians have finally decided where you should be placed. So that's the good news."

Peering into the packet, Dimitri could just make out enough to see it was official paperwork. "And what is the bad news?"

Dimitri knew it was unusual for the head Guardian to personally deliver individual assignments. A knot formed in his stomach. Dimitri was suddenly concerned about what could be in the envelope.

"Dimitri, I feel I must say something first – I have been greatly impressed by the work you have done here for us. There are not many Guardians who hold themselves to the standard you do. With that being said I hope you will understand that I personally chose you for this assignment because I believe you to be the best Guardian for it."

"Thank you, sir. I do appreciate it, but if you could only tell me –"

"You leave tomorrow."

Dimitri felt relieved, "That's it? That's hardly bad news."

"That's not all. You are being sent to the States."

America? That wasn't so bad. Of course he had hoped to stay in Russia to be closer to his family. He spoke perfect English, and had heard of many great royal families who lived all over the country. This would be a chance to experience American culture first hand.

"I'm sure you've heard of the Dragomir family." Fillip continued.

"Yes, didn't the family die some time ago?" Dimitri didn't understand why an extinct family was being brought up.

Fillip continued, "Not quite. They have one remaining member, a young girl named Vasilisa. It seems Vasilisa and her best friend have run away from their school. Despite their best efforts, no one has been able to locate the girls for nearly a year and a half. I don't have to tell you how important it is that we safely recover the last remaining member of a royal family?"

"No of course not, but I'm not sure how I—"

"Good. Your flight is tomorrow at 0600." Fillip walked to the door.

"Sir, may I ask where I'm going?"

"It's all in the packet, Belikov." Fillip left, shutting the door behind him.

Dimitri sighed, and pulled the packet from the envelope. He scanned through the pages before finding the information he was looking for.

SCHOOL: ST. VALDIMIR'S ACADEMY

LOCATION: MONTANA

Montana? He stifled a groan as an anger welled up in his stomach. He didn't know which was worse: being sent to the middle of nowhere to chase teenage girls, or the fact that he wouldn't actually be guarding anyone. Despite Fillip's praise, Dimitri took no comfort in his words.

Dimitri longed to operate as a Guardian and protect the people he swore to. Upon graduation Dimitri had been assigned to Ivan Zeklos, but after the incident he deferred reassignment instead taking an internship of sorts at the Guardian Headquarters in Moscow.

He had learned the basics of fighting and protection at school, but he wanted to learn the art of surveillance and tracking before officially being given a Guardian position. This included defensive and offensive driving, shooting, first aid, and deceptive techniques. (Or lying as most people would call it.)

So this assignment to go on a wild goose chase was, frustratingly, an underutilization of his skills. After several minutes, Dimitri realized he was wrong. Had he not spent the past few years learning reconnaissance? Tracking the missing girls was exactly what he had been training for, and then the full weight of Fillip's statement hit him. One remaining member… if there was anyone in this world who needed protection it was Vasilisa Dragomir. His resolve hardened at that moment, vowing to return the girl to safety.

Dimitri began to pack what few belongings he would need or want with him in Montana. He had a small wardrobe that consisted of comfortable practical clothing that kept him warm in winter and cool in summer. He stuck to blacks and greys so that he never had to worry much about matching his shirt to his pants. His footwear was even more limited: one pair of black leather boots suitable for various types of terrain and weather, and one pair of sneakers for the gym. The entirety of his belongings fit in one suitcase and one backpack that would serve as his carry on.

Dimitri placed his bags by the door, glanced around the room, and sighed. This would be the last night he spent in this apartment. It was the first home that was truly his own. Dimitri was extremely proud of all that he had accomplished, and despite his eagerness to begin his assignment he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of sadness at the thought of leaving this place. His stomach growled loudly, and Dimitri realized he had not eaten since breakfast. It was almost 8 o'clock at night. Grabbing his trench coat, he headed out to find his last meal in Russia.

As he locked up, a woman's voice called his name. Dimitri looked up and smiled, "Rona!"

"I just heard you got assigned!" she said.

"Yes, Fillip told me himself."

"So you really are a hot shot!" Rona teased, "Where are you going?"

"Montana, apparently some girls have run away from their school. They need help locating them, but I leave tomorrow morning." Dimitri replied.

"Really? But that's hardly any notice! We don't even have time to throw you a goodbye party! Hold on." Rona pulled out her iPhone and began texting. After several minutes she looked up, and smiled. "Come on, Dimitri!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him off towards the elevators.

"What have you done, Rona? I was just going to get something to eat." Dimitri inquired, assumed.

"It's a surprise! Don't worry – you'll be able to eat."

Dimitri's sides hurt from laughing so much; Pawel had been regaling them with tales of his misadventures during his time at academy. His exploits had landed him hot water many times and his disciplinary record notwithstanding, Pawel had still managed to get a training position at the Guardian Headquarters.

Thanks to Rona's quick thinking (or texting, as the case may be) Dimitri was able to have a goodbye party after all. Any Guardian not on duty was now at their usual after hours haunt, a quiet tavern called, when translated from Russian something like, Vodka & Caviar.

It was a typical bar, serving everything from top shelf liquor to swill not fit to be called piss. It had a small kitchen and as such only served about a dozen food items. Dimitri's favorite were the wings with caramelized onions, and between everyone in the group they had ordered everything on menu. The Guardians who had just gotten off duty were imbibing vodka tonics. While those who had to report to duty in several hours drank their preferred non-alcoholic beverages. Dimitri had a club soda with lime.

Dimitri focused on the happiness he felt at that moment, not wanting to forget it or take it for granted. He was truly happy. In his time here he had learned a great deal and had made many great friends. Guardians he would never forget. Dimitri wouldn't hesitate to lay down his life for them and he knew they would do the same for him.

"Having fun?" Rona broke through his thoughts.

Dimitri looked over to her, "Yes. Thank you so much for doing this. I didn't realize how much I would miss everyone."

"You're welcome, but I don't think everyone realizes how much they'll miss you. I'm going to miss you." Rona said, looking at Dimitri with a sadness in her eyes.

"I'll miss you too, Rona. Maybe someday we can work together." Dimitri added, to soften the blow. It was unlikely they would ever work together or even see each other again.

Finding the girls would not be Dimitri's permanent assignment. Once the girls were found and returned safely to St. Vladimir's, he would move onto another position. Rona would most likely get a permanent assignment with one of the royal families. And then there was the thing that no one would mention in polite conversation: women Guardians were uncommon. Rona may decide to have children at some point and if she did, they would never see each other again.

There was a clink, followed by another and another until everyone was banging their silverware against their glasses and shouting speech. They all looked at Dimitri. A heat spread across his face, so much for a quiet last night. He stood and waited for everyone to settle down before speaking.

"I uhh… I'm not sure what to say, but I do know that all of you are amazing Guardians. I have learned so much from all of you, and consider you all to be great friends. I will miss you. Spasibo – thank you."

They spent a while longer talking and laughing. Their leftovers had gone cold, and the ice in their drinks had melted when Dimitri checked the time: 0130. Surprise shot through him, he hadn't realized it was so late. He would have to be at the airport in just a few hours. Dimitri fastened the buttons on his coat and helped Rona into hers'. He gave everyone a final goodbye before they walked back to Headquarters.

The air was crisp and cold this time of year. The wind blew fiercely, nipping at their necks, and sending a chill down their spines. Dimitri flipped his collar up to keep the icy winds away. The sky was completely clear, and if you looked closely you could see the faint twinkle of stars.

"Are you nervous?" asked Rona.

Dimitri was surprised by the question. There wasn't much to be nervous about. Everyone at Headquarters had the same amount of training. He had flown many times, and most importantly he was eager to begin his duty as a Guardian. "No. It should be a fairly straight forward operation. I doubt I'll be there very long. Once the girls are located and returned, I'll be given another assignment."

"Well that's good – I mean that you're not nervous. Not that you won't have a job for long – oh that sounded worse than I meant," Rona took a deep breath, "What I meant is: I hope you have great success, Dimitri."

They were outside his apartment door now. Dimitri couldn't help but laugh a little at her awkwardness. "Thank you."

"Of course – you'll keep in touch, won't you?" she asked.

"Sure," Dimitri said and then a thought occurred to him. "How did you know I'd been assigned? I had no chance to tell anyone."

A pink flush crossed Rona's alabaster skin. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course." He assured.

"You know Fillip's secretary, Anya? Well we've become friends, because you know there aren't many girls around here to hang out with – but that's not what you asked… anyway she's been wanting this amazing pair of Louboutins, and I told her I'd help her out if she told me when any assignments came across her desk. I really only asked for myself because I thought I would've been assigned by now, but she texted me today when she saw your name – because everyone knows…"

"Knows what?"

Rona blushed brighter and averted her eyes, "That you're amazing. Everyone wanted to know who you would be assigned to. I hope you're not too mad?"

"No, in fact it was pretty smart. I might have done the same thing." Dimitri offered, hoping she didn't feel too guilty. The truth was that when information was needed a Guardian would employ any tactic to get it, and bribes were one of the easiest ways to do that. Rona had only done what she had been trained to do. There was no shame in that, nor could Dimitri be angry about it. After all, she had been hoping to find out about her own assignment, not his. No harm, no foul.

A silence fell between them. Dimitri studied Rona for a moment. Her looks were certainly unusual for a Dhampir. Her milky-white complexion was smooth and clear though there was an old faded scar just above her left eyebrow. A rookie mistake, she had explained once. Her eyes were an icy grey blue, and her hair was bright blonde that she styled into a sleek bob. It was short enough to expose her Promise mark. She had yet to kill a Strigoi.

Rona had confided in him once that she knew nothing of her mother. Unlike most Dhampirs that had little to no contact with their Moroi fathers, Rona was quite close with her father. Dimitri could fill in the blanks: Rona's mother had been human, and she had abandoned Rona at birth with her father. Rona's father had never questioned the child's paternity. When she was old enough, Rona had been sent to St. Peter's Academy. She excelled in her training, and upon graduation was able to secure a position at the Headquarters.

"Dimitri?" Rona asked.

"Yes, sorry I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"You – I hope you have all the success in the world too, Rona. Truly, you deserve it." He placed a hand on her shoulder.

She seemed surprised by what he had said. She leaned forward and standing on her toes placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Dimitri."

"Goodnight, Rona."

"Goodnight and don't forget to write!" She called over her shoulder as she headed to the elevators.