Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series)

by Mesick, Catherine

I couldn't have said how much time passed, but I began to relax again despite myself, and I loosened my grip on my broomstick. My breathing began to grow deeper and more comfortable.

  I was pretty sure that GM and I were still alone in the house.

  I tried to force myself to remain alert to all sounds, but my mind began to wander despite my best efforts. And even though I told myself that I didn't need distractions, my thoughts began to dwell on William.

  I was suddenly hit by a wave of loss, and unwelcome tears sprang to my eyes. I scrubbed them away fiercely and ordered myself not to cry—I couldn't allow myself to give in to tears when I had to protect the house and my grandmother.

  I closed my eyes tightly and concentrated on the tiny sounds in the house, but William crowded into my thoughts again so easily that I didn't have any chance of keeping him out.

  William, where are you? I thought. I want to see you. It hurts me to be apart from you.

  William, why did you leave me?

  And that was really the important point. William had left me—had vanished completely. He had abandoned me, and he had never said a word to me before he'd disappeared.

  According to Anton, William had gone back to Russia with Innokenti. It was clear I meant nothing to him.

  And yet, I still missed him. I knew I still loved him.

  Suddenly there was loud creak out in the hallway, and I looked around, startled. I fumbled once more for my broomstick and lighter, berating myself for my inattention. There was a second loud creak, and I flicked the lighter on, watching its tongue of flame flicker to life. My heart began to hammer.

  This is it, I thought. Get ready.

  But as before, the house settled back into silence, and my bedroom door remained closed. Soon, all I could hear was the crackle from my lighter.

  I allowed my finger to ease off the lighter's trigger, and the bright flame at the end was extinguished. My room was plunged back into its greater gloom, and I felt the dark to be oppressive—I longed suddenly for daylight.

  I wondered if it was possible for this night and this darkness to go on forever—could some supernatural element slow time so that dawn would never come?

  I told myself I was just being paranoid, and I worked to slow my breathing and my pounding heart.

  Once I was calm again, my thoughts began to wander—and they wandered right back to William.

  This time I began to berate myself over him.

  William knew you were in danger when he disappeared, said a fierce voice in my head. He left you to this. He left you to darkness. He left you to danger. And you still love him?

  I closed my eyes, completing the darkness.

  I thought only of William.

  Even though I knew it probably shouldn't, thinking of him made me feel calmer.

  I gave into the feeling and allowed myself to picture his face in every particular—the shade of his eyes, the slope of his brow, the line of his jaw. I pictured his odd half-smile. I felt peace grow within me, and my fear began to subside. I knew that I would give up just about anything to see him one last time—even if he hated me.

  I answered my own question.

  Yes, I still love him. Even if he left me to this.

  I tried to banish William then, to concentrate solely on the sounds in the house again—and the danger around me, but his image was persistent.

  I decided to let him stay with me.

  I imagined that he was in the dark beside me—and my fear that the house was going to be attacked began to fade. I was still alone—I knew that, but somehow I felt different. I could find strength in my love for William.

  The night wore on. There were more creaks, more alarms. At one point I seemed to see GM in my bedroom. She stared at me without saying anything, but there was reproach in her eyes. Behind her stretched a forest of pure white trees.

  GM turned and walked away.

  I followed her, but she moved so quickly that I couldn't catch up with her. I ran after her through the trees and soon found myself in a clearing.

  GM had disappeared, but before me loomed a castle keep—a round stone tower of a building.

  I felt a presence behind me, and I turned quickly.

  A tall figure walked toward me, and for just a moment, I thought the figure was William.

  I soon saw to my horror that it was Anton.

  I ran toward the keep.

  A door on the far side of the building stood open, and I plunged inside quickly.

  I ran up a spiraling stone staircase until I found myself standing at the very top of the keep in the open air.

  Anton soon appeared on the roof along with me.

  I tried to run, but my feet suddenly refused to move.

  The floor beneath me gave way, and I felt myself falling.

  My eyes flew open, and I gasped for breath. I was lying back against my pillows, clutching my broomstick, with all my other supplies scattered around me. Sunlight was streaming into my room. I glanced over at the candle on my nightstand.

  It had gone out.

  I sat up, alarmed. I couldn't believe I had allowed myself to fall asleep.

  I wondered in a panic if my sleep had been assisted—I knew that vampires had power over the human mind.

  I dropped the broomstick and ran my hands over my neck. My skin was smooth and unbroken, and I quickly examined my wrists and arms. I seemed to be free of bite marks. My thoughts flew to GM. Had my falling asleep left her prey to night invaders?

  As if in answer to my panicked thoughts, there was a gentle knock on my bedroom door.

  A voice filtered through to me. "Are you well, Katie? It's not like you to sleep so late. Katie?"

  "GM, are you okay?" I asked. She sounded all right, but I wasn't reassured.

  The door opened and GM entered. Her eyes opened in surprise when she saw me.

  "GM, are you okay?" I said again. She looked perfectly healthy, but I needed to hear her say the words.

  "Yes, of course, I am okay." She stepped closer. "The question is, are you?"

  She stood by my bed, surveying the candles, the matches, the towels, the broomstick, and all the other things I had scattered around me.

  "Katie, what on earth are you doing with all of these things?"

  I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for my odd collection, but nothing came to me.

  GM picked up the lantern. "Is this why you were asking about my old lantern last night? Because you wanted to place it in your bed?"

  I tried to come up with a reason for my having the lantern, but I floundered again, unable to come up with a response.

  GM's eyes darted to the grill lighter. "You have my lighter, matches, towels. You weren't planning on burning the house down, were you?"

  I found my voice then. "No, of course not. No."

  "Then what were you doing with all of this stuff?"

  I realized that I could tell her at least part of the truth.

  "I was afraid that Joshua Martin would attack the house at night. I thought I could fight him off with these things."

  GM sank onto the bed. "Oh, Katie. You poor child. I hope you did not sit up all night."

  "I tried to," I admitted. "But I didn't quite make it."

  GM reached over and ran a soothing hand over my hair. "You must not worry like this. I am perfectly capable of looking out for you. As I said, I have kept you alive all this time, haven't I?"

  "I know you said that," I replied. "But I wasn't just worried about me. I was worried about you too. I don't want Joshua to come after you either."

  Fire flashed in GM's eyes. "I am more than capable of looking after myself." She leaned forward and her eyes bored into mine. "More than capable. There are things about your grandmother that you don't know. So no more worrying."

  She stood up then. She looked over my supplies once again and shook her head.

  "First, the open widow on a freezing-cold night, and now you're preparing for a firefight. Sometimes I wonder about you, Katie. Please pr
omise me that there will be no more shenanigans of this type."

  Now that GM had caught me, I knew that I wouldn't get another chance to sneak in supplies from the kitchen—I knew she would put locks on the cupboards if she felt she had to.

  I would have to come up with something else.

  "I promise, no more shenanigans," I said.

  "You are a good girl," GM said. "I have always known that. You are a little strange, but nonetheless, you are good."

  She turned to go.

  "GM," I said sharply, "you've said that you can protect us, but that wasn't true that one night, was it?"

  GM turned back. "To what night are you referring?"

  Since GM and I had returned from Russia, neither one of us had spoken of Gleb Mstislav's attack on our house in October—an attack that had forced us to flee the country. GM had not spoken of it because she wished to pretend it had never happened. I never spoke of it because I knew it was taboo.

  "I'm talking about that night in October," I said, "when Gleb Mstislav broke into our house and tried to kill us. And you recognized him. You said you did. You weren't able to stop him then. What if something like that happens again?"

  I expected GM to be angry, but instead her expression softened.

  "Yes, that was a frightening night, wasn't it? I confess that I did not react as I should have done. For a time, I accepted Galina's nonsensical explanation that Gleb had returned from the dead. I, like many, had believed that he was dead. But then I came to my senses. I realized that he had been in hiding—that he had allowed us all to believe he was dead so that he could continue his criminal activities without interference. And I now believe that he must have been under the influence of drugs that night, hence his ghastly appearance. You need fear him no longer, Solnyshko. He is gone. He is in the family crypt now. The police even opened it up to look."

  GM gave me a stern stare. "Now get up, get ready, and come downstairs for breakfast. There will be no more time for fears today."

  She turned and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  I found GM's attitude toward Gleb Mstislav to be curious. She believed that Gleb had been walking around alive and well in October, but had not been surprised when the police later opened the crypt and found him lying in it dead. She didn't seem to have wondered how he had gone from one state to the other without interruption. Perhaps she thought his son Timofei had killed him—though that was not one of the crimes he had been accused of. But I supposed, ultimately, that GM did not wonder about it because she didn't want to.

  I couldn't really blame her for that—reanimated corpses were not a pleasant topic.

  And she was right. Gleb was gone now. I had seen him wrestled back into death by William with my own eyes.

  I stood up and stretched. I looked down at my supplies and wondered if I could try stashing just a few things in my room for my next vigil.

  I was relieved that GM and I had survived the night, but I was far from easy in my mind.

  Why hadn't I been attacked?

  Who was after me?

  Who had placed a price on my head?

  I could think of only two people who could possibly want me dead—Gleb and Timofei Mstislav.

  And both of them were dead themselves.

  But I knew only too well that the dead could come back.

  Chapter 11.

  I showered and dressed, and then returned to my room, where I sat for a long time just staring at a patch of sunlight on the floor.

  I knew I had to move—I had to think. I had to come up with a plan for guarding the house. But I just kept staring at the sunlight. It seemed so normal, so safe.

  Everything my life was not.

  Eventually, I forced myself to move. I got up and took all my things downstairs where GM supervised me as I put them away. Then I ate breakfast.

  After that, I worked on homework, cleaned my room, ate other meals—the rest of Sunday passed quickly.

  All too soon it was night again—and I didn't have a plan to fight what waited for me in the dark.

  I lit my candle and sat up as I had the night before, waiting to hear footsteps on the stairs, watching my door to see if it would be opened by an intruder. But despite my best efforts, I fell asleep again, and I was awakened on Monday morning by the insistent beeping of my alarm.

  I looked around my room in groggy surprise. I had survived another night.

  I should have felt relieved, but instead a new fear settled over me. The house was no longer protected—I knew for a fact that no one watched over it.

  But there was a price on my head, and at least one of the would-be collectors—Anton—knew that I was now alone.

  So what was stopping any of them from coming in?

  Were they planning something worse than the attack that I already feared?

  I shivered.

  I supposed I would be safe enough at school—there would be too many witnesses around for someone like Joshua or Anton to attempt anything. But I had to be alert all the same.

  I got ready for school quickly, and as I crossed the room to go downstairs, I was seized suddenly by a sharp pain as William crowded into my thoughts. Now that the reality of his abandonment had truly sunk in, I was left with an agony that seemed to grow worse each day. And along with that deepening hurt went the continuing realization that I still loved him—that I would always love him.

  I felt emptiness stretching before me, as if I were falling and would fall forever.

  William did not love me.

  Pain continued to wash over me, but I knew I had to find a way to get on with the day. I worked to contain the hurt, to force it into a confined space and make it manageable. There were still other people in my life to think of—and I had to look out for GM.

  I reined the pain in and resolved again not to think of William.

  As I went downstairs, I happened to catch sight of some downy white flakes fluttering past the window.

  I felt momentarily cheered—I always loved to see snow.

  I didn't eat much at breakfast, and I didn't protest when GM insisted on driving me to school once again.

  GM set off quickly, and the world outside my window turned into a white blur. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest. After a second night of waiting up to guard against intruders, I was tired.

  I must have fallen asleep briefly, for when I opened my eyes we were already gliding to a stop in front of the school.

  GM eyed me closely. "Are you well, Solnyshko? You did not look well yesterday, and you do not appear to have improved any this morning. Perhaps you have not recovered yet from your day out in the cold on Saturday."

  I gave her a smile and attempted to appear cheerful. "I'm fine. I really am."

  "You will call me if you start to feel worse?"

  "Yes, I will. Thanks, GM."

  I moved to get out of the car.

  "And call me when school is over, so I can pick you up."

  "I'll give you a call," I said.

  GM nodded approvingly. "Now hurry into the school. Don't linger out in the cold air."

  I couldn't help but smile a little at GM's fussing, and as I got out of the car, I gave her a little wave to reassure her that everything was all right. Once GM realized that I was, in fact, headed into the school, she sped off.

  As I walked across the schoolyard, I carefully avoided glancing over at the picnic table where Charisse, Branden, and Simon tended to gather, just in case they were there. I realized that I wasn't really in the mood to see any of them. They'd been set against William, and now that I knew for sure that he was gone, I didn't feel up to talking to them. They didn't know he was gone, of course, and they certainly hadn't made him go, but I still didn't want to see them.

  I knew that if they found out that William had left me that they'd be happy.

  And I realized right after that that I'd thought of William without meaning to. I resolved not to let it happen again.

  I drifted thr
ough the first half of the day, hardly hearing anything that was said in any of my classes, and I felt little except for a distant dread that lunch was coming—I wondered if I should skip lunch and avoid seeing Charisse, Branden, and Simon altogether.

  When lunch arrived, I decided I had better face them and get the worst of seeing them over with.

  They don't know what happened with William, I told myself, and you don't have to tell them.

  I bent my steps toward the cafeteria.

  Simon smiled when he saw me, and we went through the line together. I didn't really notice what was being served, and even though Simon kept up a cheerful line of conversation, I couldn't really focus on what he was saying.

  All I could think about was how happy he would be if he knew that William was gone. I realized I couldn't blame Simon for that—especially considering what he thought William was like—but I couldn't help but feel something angry and unpleasant toward him. It felt a lot like resentment.

  Simon and I sat down at a table with Charisse and Branden, and even though Charisse smiled at me, and Branden started telling a story about something funny that had happened in one of his classes—I couldn't help but feel some resentment toward them too.

  At one point during Branden's story, I looked up to see that Charisse was staring at me. Her eyes were searching and concerned.

  I looked away quickly.

  "So what do you think about that?"

  I blinked. Branden was staring at me now, smiling.

  Simon was looking at me also, but he seemed to be worried like Charisse was.

  "Katie, I said, what do you think about that?" Branden was still grinning at me.

  "I'm sorry, Branden," I said. "I didn't really hear what you were saying. My mind's been somewhere else."

  "I'll say. You missed a great story, even if I do say so myself. I was explaining why there are so many Russian immigrants in this town."

  "What's that about Russian immigrants?" I asked.

  Branden laughed. "You really have been checked out. I was telling you that this area was a hotbed for the Russian mob a little over ten years ago—that's how families like yours and the Neverovs and others came to be here."

  "Branden, that's terrible," Charisse said. "Katie's grandmother is no mobster. And I'm sure Irina's family isn't full of criminals, either."