The info I got from Richelle? Yesh, I have it. I talked to her and got it straight from her mouth. I almost wish I had videotaped it.

According to Richelle, no official synopsis for Spirit Bound has been released. So anything you look up, especially Amazon, is false. She even told me that she was going to contact her publisher because she didn't like that they had put up a synopsis for Spirit Bound and that it wasn't even correct.

Hope that clears any confusion up. So I can continue on with my plot the way I planned it.

Also, my disclaimer for being sick and this not being up to par in TWBAR is also included here.

Usual disclaimers apply.

The week passed by slowly. I got several more letters from Dimitri. They were each as creepy as the next. The postage were all still German, so I got the impression he had decided to become stationery.

Janine sat in during more sessions with Alberta. And my mother was right - it was all about perfection now. Alberta's motto was slowly becoming, "A little more power." Apparently while I was powerful and very good at the whole killing Strigoi bit, I still had room for improvement.

I still got weird looks and people were almost done whispering about me as I passed by, but I still held onto my legendary status without any work. Meals were the worst, and I managed to silence whole tables as I walked past. The autograph requests were gone, with the exception of a random object here and there. Somebody even asked me to sign their comforter. I was late for class because they dragged me to their room and showed me just where to sign. It was hysterical for my classmates to hear my excuse.

The hole I was feeling with Dimitri's being a dhampir was steadily growing every day. On Thursday, I actually broke down crying in my training class. The memory of Dimitri telling me to stop staking the dummy in any old place near the heart came ripping through my heart. I got out of going to class for the rest of the morning. Stan had a great time mocking me on Friday.

It was Saturday when Dimitri's informant slipped. I knew they must have been some kind of informant because a tree branch shook as I walked by on my way to breakfast. Only an unoriginal informant would do something as cliched as watch things from a tree branch.

Sensing danger, I listened until I heard feet hit the ground, and took off after the escapee. I never found them - they led me in a giant circle and I came back to the original tree. After a minute of careful listening, I didn't hear anything.

Ticked off, I started walking around the tree. There were low, sturdy branches that would have made it easy for a Moroi to climb. The tree was fairly high. I climbed all the way to the top and looked around. It had a good view of the main entrance of the novice dorm, the quad, the gym, and the cafeteria. If you slid to the far left, the administrative building was easily seen.

I jumped back to the ground and circled around the tree one more time. I was about to leave, when a glimpse of something white among the grass caught my eye. I walked over and picked it up.

It was a notebook identical to the one I had. I flipped it open, and saw my name printed in my handwriting on the inside corner. A faint memory tugged on the back of my mind. I could barely recall writing my name in the notebook. I did clearly remember, however, buying the notebook in Baia and then throwing it in my bag when I decided to leave with Dennis's group.

I went through the pages and didn't see any of my writing. Somebody else was watching me and recording everythign I did. I could see where Dimitri was able to talk about what I was currently doing.

It confused me. Why would Dimitri have bought an identical notebook to the one I bought in Baia - how exactly he did that was another question I had - and why would his informant write down my actions in my notebook, which he clearly stole. It made me wonder what else of my things he had stolen. Had he snuck into Tamara's apartment - or worse, had he hurt them to get my things? Killed them, even?

Questions flitted through my mind as I walked to breakfast. Instead of eating and talking with my friends, I poured over the notebook. Christian was about to ask me what I was reading when I barely caught Adrian telling them to leave me alone.

A little red flag went up in the back of my mind. I still hadn't gone through any of the things Adrian had given me. But any thoughts about a future boyfriend were pushed away as I kept reading through the notebook.

Obviously, there were the notations of my actions. Whoever the informant was had to be a Moroi - they referenced conversations about me with last names that were all Moroi.

In the margins was a different handwriting. It was scrawled, and I could barely read it. It was all thoughts and feelings and reflections on what the original writer had written.

It was creepier than Dimitri's letters. In his letters, it just mentioned what was going on in my life. The notebook held times, facial expression descriptions, locations, step-by-step of what I did, down to opening a door.

Upon further inspection, it occured to me that it was beyond creepy. It was beyond stalker-like. It was like Dimitri was obsessing about me through his informant.

I was able to figure this out due to the fact that the entries grew in description and size. The details went from how my arm swung back in opening a door to what my arm looked like when it swung back. What my clothes were to how they looked on my body. What my training sessions consisted of to how my body moved and what it looked like stretching and staking.

It was obviously written by a female. There were obvious hints of being jealous of me, and rarely did that tone change. Most of the time, girls were jealous of me and guys wanted to just get in my pants. It was easy to classify who the writer was.

"Excuse me," I muttered as I walked into something. Or rather, it was someone that I noticed when I dragged my head away from the notebook to look at my brick wall.

"Sydney!" I exclaimed, and threw my arms around her, the notebook fluttering to the ground. I was strangely excited to see her.

"Rose!" She cried back, except it was full of sarcasm. She barely returned the hug, and I pulled away when I felt her body resemble a wooden plank.

"Sorry about that," I said, picking up the fallen notebook. We were in the middle of changing classes for the last period of the day, and a lot of my classmates had stopped to watch the exchange.

"It's fine," Sydney said stiffly. "Do you know where the guest housing is?"

I spotted Adrian sneaking around the corner, a flash of silver letting me know he was on his way to drink himself into a stupor.

"Adrian!" I shouted down the hall. The crowd parted to let Adrian, who was roughly shoving the vodka back into his jacket and grumbling, walk up to me.

"What is it that you need, little dhampir?" Adrian asked, slightly tilting his head to the left.

"Can you show Sydney to guest housing?" I asked sweetly. I could see Sydney shift feet and become uncomfortable with the present situation.

"What's in it for me?" Adrian challenged, his eyes barely flicking up and down Sydney.

"I'll finally watch your DVD," I said, the right corner of my mouth tugging upward into a smile.

"You haven't?" Adrian pretended to rub a beard in thought. "Fine." His voice got lower and I had to lean in to hear him. "But later you get to explain why there's a human, who isn't freaked out by the whole shindig going on here, being put up in guest housing."

"Have it your way," I tossed back, my voice just above a whisper.

"Name?" Adrian asked.

"Sydney," I replied.

"Just follow me, Sydney," Adrian said loud enough for Sydney to hear. He started in the direction of guest housing.

"Is he mentally sound?" Sydney whispered to me.

"He's a special case. Explanations later," I said, smiling up at Sydney. "He won't kill you. He just likes drinking and smoking and has fantasies of being my boyfriend. Don't worry."

Sydney just glared at me as she grabbed her duffel bag and backpack and took off after Adrian.

Satisfied, I kept walking to Slavic Art, my nose buried in the notebook.

It was a bit ironic. I was obsessed with writings that someone who was obsessed with me wrote. And confusing. When I attempted to explain it to Lissa in class, she just gave me a confused look.

"In theory, you're obsessed with yourself," Lissa said slowly. Someone had unearthed a laptop cart and there were enough for everyone to be partnered up. We were supposed to be researching famous slavic artists, because someone else had managed to find a Wi-Fi router and hook it up. All of our computers in our dorm rooms were the regular machines and not laptops.

"I'm obsessed with somebody else's take on me," I continued

"But it's biased because it's for someone else," Lissa added.

"Who happens to maybe be in love with me," I finished.

"Is it a different love than my love for you?" Lissa asked, batting her eyelashes.

"Of course," I said, laughing like it was a ridiculous idea.

"Miss Hathaway, Princess Dragomir, back to work." I peeked over the computer screen and looked at the teacher.

"Sorry!" I squeaked, and then pretended like I was typing furiously.

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