YAY! Of Course It's Yours is back! :) I can't promise quick updates, because I am still taking priority of my other fics. So this was just so it was here. The next chapter will probably be a bit short, then it'll skip over all the non-important, you-already-know-it-because-it-pretty-much-follows-the-Blood-Promise-story.

Anyway, reviews always appreciated :)

ttfn

WIWR xx ;)

V.A is not mine

I sat in the nightingale for the fourth night in a row.

I was giving up after tonight. If I didn't go over and talk to those Moroi tonight, I was leaving the nightingale and finding somewhere else. I knew I had to find Dimitri's hometown, it was so important.

Strangely, I started feeling nauseas, but not Strigoi nausea. I pushed it aside because I was in luck.

ecause then, just as I was considering my move on the group of Moroi, one of the dhampir women left the table to walk up to the bar. The guardians watched her, of course, but seemed confident about her safety and were more fixated on the Moroi. All this time I'd been thinking Moroi men would be the best way to go to get information about a village of dhampirs and blood whores—but what better way to locate this place than by asking an actual blood whore?

I strolled casually from my table and approached the bar, like I too was going to get a drink. I stood by as the woman waited for the bartender and studied her in my periphery. She was blond and wore a long dress covered in silver sequins. I couldn't decide if it made my black satin sheath dress appear tasteful or boring. All of her movements—even the way she stood—were graceful, like a dancer's. The bartender was helping others, and I knew it was now or never. I leaned toward her.

"Do you speak English?"

She jumped in surprise and looked over at me. She was older than I'd expected, her age cleverly concealed by makeup. Her blue eyes assessed me quickly, recognizing me as a dhampir. "Yes," she said warily. Even the one word carried a thick accent.

"I'm looking for a town . . . a town where lots of dhampirs live, out in Siberia. Do you know what I'm talking about? I need to find it."

Again she studied me, and I couldn't read her expression. She might as well have been a guardian for all that her face revealed. Maybe she'd trained at one time in her life.

"Don't," she said bluntly. "Let it go." She turned away, her gaze back on the bartender as he made someone a blue cocktail adorned with cherries.

I touched her arm. "I have to find it. There's a man . . ." I choked on the word. So much for my cool interrogation. Just thinking about Dimitri made my heart stick in my throat. How could I even explain it to this woman? That I was following a long-shot clue, seeking out the man I loved most in the world—a man who had been turned into a Strigoi and who I now needed to kill? Even now, I could perfectly picture the warmth of his brown eyes and the way his hands used to touch me. How could I do what I had crossed an ocean to do?

Focus, Rose. Focus.

The dhampir woman looked back at me. "He's not worth it," she said, mistaking my meaning. No doubt she thought I was a lovesick girl, chasing some boyfriend—which, I supposed, I kind of was. "You're too young . . . it's not too late for you to avoid all that." Her face might have been impassive, but there was sadness in her voice. "Go do something else with your life. Stay away from that place."

"You know where it is!" I exclaimed, too worked up to explain that I wasn't going there to be a blood whore. "Please—you have to tell me. I have to get there."

She still wouldn't answer me. "Look," I said, getting annoyed. "I'm not going there to become a—ergh." I felt such a sudden sick feeling in my stomach that I dashed out of The Nightingale in an instant to go throw up in the back alley.

"Too much to drink?" a voice said a few meters to my left. I hadn't even heard their footsteps my heaving was so bad. But that didn't stop my senses.

I had my stake out, ready to strike in a flash, but the voice belonged to human, so I just as quickly put it away. And turned back to throw up again.

"Not really," I said between heaves. "Just not well." My entire stomach felt strange, it was so weird. Definitely not just a stomach bug.

"My name is Sydney," the girl said, she spoke perfect English, she was American. I could only give her a single thumbs-up hand sign. "Would you like me to take you to the hospital?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm okay. I'll take myself." I started in the general direction I thought might lead me to a hospital and away from this random human.

"The hospital's that way," she said, pointing in the opposite direction to which I was going. After a moment's thought, I shrugged, concluding it would be nice to have a guide.

We were in the emergency room for an hour without much talk; luckily, I didn't have too many more incidents of vomit. When the doctor finally called me up, I left Sydney in the waiting room, going in myself.

A range of minor tests and another hour later, the doctor finally worked out my problem.

"Mary," he asked. I technically used my name, Rosemarie. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," I said wary and curious.

He crumpled his face; I wasn't going to like this news. "Mary, you're pregnant."

I froze for a full minute, before getting up the courage to say something. "That's not possible."