richellemead-vampireacademy01-vampireacademy-110824015328-phpapp02

Fifteen
MASON DELIVERED.
He found me the next day before school. He was carrying a box of books.
"I got them," he said. "Hurry and take them before you get in trouble for talking to me.”
He handed them over, and I grunted. They were heavy. "Christian gave you these?”
"Yeah. Managed to talk to him without anyone noticing. He's got kind of an attitude, did you
ever notice that?”
"Yeah, I noticed." I rewarded Mason with a smile that he ate up. "Thanks. This means a lot.”
I hauled the loot up to my room, fully aware of how weird it was that someone who hated to
study as much as I did was about to get buried in dusty crap from the fourteenth century. When
I opened the first book, though, I saw that these must be reprints of reprints of reprints,
probably because anything that old would have long since fallen apart.
Sifting through the books, I discovered they fell into three categories: books written by people
after St. Vladimir had died, books written by other people when he was still alive, and one diary
of sorts written by him. What had Mason said about primary and secondary sources? Those last
two groups were the ones I wanted.
Whoever had reprinted these had reworded the books enough so that I didn't have to read Ye
Olde English or anything. Or rather, Russian, I supposed. St. Vladimir had lived in the old
country.