Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series)

by Mesick, Catherine

  Maybe there had been some kind of interference the last time I had used the call. Maybe I wouldn't have to go all the way to Russia to look for William.

  Maybe he would come here.

  Don't get too excited, I warned myself. You'll only feel worse if William doesn't show up.

  But once the possibility of seeing William had occurred to me, it proved to be a difficult idea to shake. So, I waited anxiously, my ears straining to hear every sound the house made, until I heard GM come up the stairs and settle in for the night.

  Then I slipped downstairs as noiselessly as I could and let myself out the back door. I felt a flash of panic as I stepped out into the starless night. I realized suddenly that going outside unprotected when I was the prey of vampires was unwise. But I would risk it to see William again.

  William won't come, I told myself sternly, as I walked across the backyard, feeling the chill of the night wrap itself around my body. Don't even think about him.

  But think about him I did. I stood still in the frozen night, my heart beating wildly. And as I whispered the words, "Katie Wickliff summons you," I felt my breath quicken, and a sharp stab of nervousness that wasn't entirely unpleasant ran through me.

  What if I was about to see him again?

  I waited for the rush of air that preceded his arrival. I waited for William.

  I searched the dark for his long, lean form.

  But nothing stirred in the night.

  I told myself not to panic—perhaps I had whispered too softly. I spoke the words again, my heart beating even more wildly than before.

  Time passed, and I felt the cold biting more deeply into my skin.

  William was not coming.

  I whispered the words a third time, and I felt tears stinging my eyes.

  No William. No Cormac, either. No one listening in the night, no one watching over me—no one was there to keep the creatures who were after me at bay.

  But worst of all, there was no William.

  Tears began to fall, and I brushed them away. I felt my hand shaking, and I tried to tell myself that it was only the cold that caused it. I had known that William was gone, I had known that he wouldn't come when I called, and yet I had allowed myself to believe—

  The tears began to fall more fiercely, and I could feel them hot and burning as they ran down my cheek and neck. A cry escaped from me, and it sounded unnaturally loud on the night air. I quickly pressed my hand against my lips. My other hand I wrapped around my waist.

  I wanted him to come back. I wanted to see William again, even if he didn't want to see me. But more than anything, I wanted to see him as he had once been—I wanted to see the William who looked at me with love in his eyes.

  Was it possible that William, the one I loved and the one who loved me, still existed? Or was I going to Russia to search for someone who had grown cold inside?

  He had vanished without explanation. What if I found him, and he finally said the terrible words to me that I feared? Could I bear to stand before him and have him tell me he didn't love me and he wanted me to go?

  The tears continued to fall, and I knew that I would risk fresh hurt to see him again.

  I would find him. I would see him one last time.

  I went back into the house and locked the door behind me.

  I climbed into bed shivering and grateful for the warmth of my covers. I had redoubled my resolve to see William again. I just hoped that those who stalked the dark for me would let me live until that day arrived.

  In the morning, I was restless, eager to be gone to Russia—eager to start my search. But I still had ten days of school left.

  I didn't know how I would get through it.

  I hurried down to breakfast, and as I ate, I noticed that GM was watching me carefully.

  "You don't look well, Katie."

  I had barely glanced into the mirror before I'd come down, but I had a feeling that my eyes probably showed signs of the crying that I had done last night.

  "I'm fine, GM," I said in the most reassuring tone I could muster, "I really am."

  "You're not ill?"

  "No."

  "Are you worried about school? I know your mid-term exams will be soon."

  GM was right—I did have exams coming up. And I hadn't been working as I hard as I should have been. I would make an effort to keep my mind clear of distractions and focus on my schoolwork.

  "Is it school, Solnyshko?" GM prompted when I didn't answer right away.

  "No, I'm not worried about school."

  GM sighed. "Is it that boy, then? Why is it always that boy? You said he was distant—has it gotten worse?"

  I looked down into my cereal—I knew I couldn't answer her. Why did GM have to become perceptive at exactly the wrong moments?

  "Is he gone?" GM asked.

  I looked up at her, but remained silent.

  She reached across the table and patted my hand. "I do not wish you to be unhappy, Katie, but sometimes these things are for the best."

  She stood up and began to clear her dishes away. "I think it is good for you that we will be going away soon. You will find that the air of Russia can be healing. And there is not so much urgency this time."

  GM paused, a dish held in her hand. She seemed to lose her train of thought for a moment.

  I wondered if she was thinking back to our first visit together. And I wondered once more what she allowed herself to remember about it.

  "You will have a good time on this trip," she said at last, her voice dreamy and distant.

  She blinked and seemed to come to herself again. "You may walk to school this morning if you wish. I think you will be safe—these last few days have been quiet. And I have some errands to run today, Solnyshko, things I have to pick up before our trip."

  She gave me an apologetic smile. "I may not be home when you get back from school today."

  I couldn't help but smile myself—GM was always there when I got home from school. Coming home to an empty house would be a novelty.

  "I think I'll be fine, GM. A few hours alone won't hurt me."

  GM waved a hand at me. "Just leave your things on the table. There's no need for you to clear up this morning."

  I finished breakfast and hurried out into the cold morning. I was not looking forward to ten more days of school, but I would get through them.

  Once at school, I walked quickly through the yard without looking around—I didn't want to catch sight of Simon or Charisse or Branden. I'd feel obligated to stop and talk to them.

  And I didn't want to talk to anyone right now.

  I hurried to my locker, and then hurried to the cafeteria, where I buried my nose in a book. I would throw myself into studying and focus only on my exams. Time would pass more quickly, and I would fulfill my responsibilities. I really liked my classes, and my grades were important to me. I had been guilty of letting things slide lately.

  I became immersed in my reading and was startled when the warning bell rang.

  I did more studying in homeroom, and when I ran into Branden and Charisse in second-period English, I smiled and waved and went to my desk to do more reading. I felt bad, but I genuinely did need time to catch up.

  I realized it might be best for me to study at lunch for the next few days too.

  So, when it was time for lunch, I hurried through the line and took my tray to a table in the corner. Then I opened a book and read as I ate.

  A short time later, there was a crash that shook the table. I looked up, startled.

  A dark green backpack had suddenly appeared in the middle of my table. The backpack was swept off the table and onto the floor with surprising swiftness, and Branden sat heavily in the plastic chair next to me.

  "So, why are you avoiding us?" he asked without preamble.

  "What was that?" I was a bit dazed after being jolted out of my reading so abruptly.

  Charisse took a seat next to Branden. Simon sat down on my other side.

  "Simon thinks you'r
e angry because of what I said the other day," Branden said. "About the Russian immigrants in this area and the bootlegging and so on and so forth. Are you angry about that?"

  "No," I said. And it was true—I wasn't.

  Branden held out a hand triumphantly. "See? I told you."

  Simon ignored Branden. "Katie, you can't get hung up on the crazy things Branden says. You know he doesn't know what he's talking about half the time—or ever, for that matter."

  "Hey," Branden said.

  "Simon," I said, "I'm not upset about anything Branden or anybody else said. Really. Honestly."

  Simon looked at me searchingly. "Then why have you been avoiding us?"

  "I'm not. I haven't—"

  I felt a little stab of regret as I looked at the concerned faces ranged around the table.

  Truthfully, I had been angry with them, and I knew it. I still resented the fact that they would be happy if they found out that William had left me. I'd told myself before that my friends were not responsible for what William had done. But the resentment had remained.

  I really did need to study, but it was also a way to escape from them—and from thoughts of William.

  Ultimately, though, they were my friends.

  I would try to stop blaming them for a situation they couldn't help.

  "You're right," I said. "I'm sorry. I guess I've been trapped in my own head lately."

  "I understand that you may need to study," Simon said, "but too much studying can be a bad thing too. You should at least take a break when you're eating."

  Branden reached over and shut my textbook. "Time to relax. A little. It's not like we get nearly enough time for lunch anyway."

  "Promise me you'll have lunch with us like you usually do," Charisse said. "You can at least give us that."

  "I promise," I said.

  And I did make an attempt to be sociable, but I found that my thoughts kept drifting to my trip to Russia.

  I wanted—needed—to get back to studying—if only to keep myself sane.

  Mercifully, lunch ended at last, and I picked up my books, relieved to be free to lose myself in them once again. I felt bad about avoiding my friends—I really did—but I could never explain to them what was worrying me. I couldn't tell them that danger stalked me in the night—they'd never believe that. And I certainly couldn't tell them that I was planning to search for William.

  As I went out into the hallway, I felt a soft tug on my sleeve. I turned to see Bryony walking beside me.

  "Can I talk to you for a moment?" she said quietly. "I wanted to ask you something—without the others around."

  "Yes, of course," I said.

  Bryony and I drew apart from the crowd.

  She looked around, hesitating. "I was wondering how you—how you've been doing—with the ghost's message and everything. I know it's weird for me to keep bringing it up."

  I was quick to reassure her. "It's okay. I didn't mind the message. Really."

  "Did anything—"

  She looked around again and lowered her voice. "Did anything happen? Did you hear the singing she warned about?"

  I realized that I didn't know how to answer her. Had I heard singing? I'd felt a strange, enchanting softness in the night air and an intense longing to draw nearer to it. And I'd felt that feeling again when I'd seen the strange man encased in ice emerging from the cave.

  Had he been singing to me? I'd wondered that before.

  "Honestly, Bryony, I'm not entirely sure. But I did see something—or actually, someone strange. It was actually on the day you had your birthday party."

  Bryony's eyes widened in alarm. "What happened?"

  "That day I saw a man with closed eyes who was entirely covered in ice. He came out of the cave in the Old Grove, and I felt the strangest feeling—I felt like he was drawing me to him."

  No sooner had I finished speaking, than I began to feel foolish. Bryony would think I had imagined the whole thing.

  I didn't know why I had said anything at all about it.

  But Bryony didn't laugh or look shocked—she just looked more concerned. "Did you recognize the man?"

  "No, I didn't," I said. "Have you heard of something like this happening before?"

  "No."

  I began to feel foolish again. "It was probably nothing. I can't be sure what I saw."

  "No, I believe you," Bryony said. "I know you're level-headed and you're smart. I don't think you're making anything up. Besides, I've learned that when the ghost sends a message it's important to pay attention to everything that happens—no matter how bizarre those things are."

  "I'm glad you don't think I'm crazy."

  "No," she said simply, and then looked away in thought. I realized now why I had spoken so easily about the strange man—why I had told Bryony something I would never tell any of my other friends. There was something deeply calm about Bryony—it was really a unique quality.

  "Katie," Bryony said after a moment, "if you don't mind, I'm going to tell my grandmother about what you saw. Maybe she can find out something further from the ghost. But doing so is a little tricky."

  "Yes, sure. Go ahead. I need all the help I can get at this point."

  "I'll go over to her house tonight, then. Hang in there, Katie. And try to ignore any more strange feelings or 'singing' if you hear it. I'm sure it can't be good for you."

  Bryony moved off again into the crowd, and I went on to class.

  It seemed to me that my conversation with Bryony should have left me feeling more worried—she had said she was going to consult a ghost about me—but I actually felt a little relieved. It was good to speak to someone who would actually listen.

  I thought then of Galina—someone else who had listened to me. I wondered if I would get to see her once we reached Krov. I was under the impression that GM's attitude toward her had thawed—and it occurred to me that she might know something about the people who were after me.

  And she might even know where I could find William.

  I spent the rest of the day absorbed in my schoolwork as much as possible. Any spare moments I had I spent reading or going over my notes. I resolved to spend the rest of the night studying and working, and I realized I was looking forward to being current with my schoolwork again. When the final bell rang, I jumped up from my seat and hurried to my locker. I didn't want to run into anyone I'd have to talk to.

  A light snow had just begun to fall as I exited the schoolyard, and I paused just outside the fence to watch it fall. I held out my palm and let a few flakes settle there. The snow was cool and damp against my skin, and I watched as it dissolved, soaking in.

  I'd always liked snow and the peaceful atmosphere that came with it. Snow seemed to make the whole world quieter. As I continued to watch it fall, I felt my own internal turmoil subside. I walked home slowly, enjoying the snow, allowing the stillness of it to soak into my skin like the snowflakes had.

  When I reached home, I noticed that GM's red sports car was missing from the driveway. So her errands had kept her out late, just as she had anticipated.

  I let myself into the house and went to the kitchen. I set my backpack down and got myself an apple and a glass of milk.

  I was seldom in the house alone, and the solitude was something of a relief—I didn't have to pretend anything for anyone at the moment. I could be completely myself.

  I ate leisurely, and then just sat for a moment, listening to the quiet, occasional creaking of the house. But as much as I enjoyed the peace, I knew I had homework to do. With a certain degree of reluctance, I got up.

  As I rinsed out my glass, I thought I heard a sound in the hall. I turned to look, but no one was there. I realized I must have just heard the house give an unusually loud creak. I'd heard enough of those in the night to know it meant nothing.

  I finished clearing up, and as I picked up my backpack, I thought I heard another sound. This time it seemed to be coming from the living room.

  "GM, is that you?"

&n
bsp; Maybe I'd just been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't heard her come in.

  I walked into the living room.

  Anton was standing by the table, picking up picture frames and examining my family photos.

  I realized with horror that I was seeing my brief vision from weeks ago come to life.

  I felt my backpack slide off my shoulder.

  Anton turned to look at me.

  "Hello, Sunshine."

  I felt a strong desire to run, and I decided to indulge it.

  But Anton quickly moved to block my way, forcing me to stumble backward. I tripped over my backpack and fell to the floor.

  Anton was soon beside me, reaching out a hand.

  I shied away from his hand and found my feet again.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked. My voice sounded high and frightened.

  "I was trying to help you up."

  I backed away from him. "I meant what are you doing in my house?"

  "I came to see you." He waved a hand toward the photos. "Nice pictures."

  "You have to leave," I said.

  "No, I don't." He smiled.

  "My grandmother will be home soon."

  "She won't be home soon enough." Anton sat on the couch. "Let's have a little talk."

  He patted the cushion next to him.

  I ran into the kitchen, hoping to reach the back door, but Anton blocked my way before I reached it.

  I turned, trying to get away from him, but no matter how I moved, he remained in front of me, blocking my escape.

  I stood still.

  "What do you want?" I tried to keep my voice from shaking.

  "I told you, I want to talk."

  "What would we talk about? You tried to kill me."

  "I did not try to kill you. I was just trying to kidnap you. Then I was going to turn you over to some other people—who probably would have killed you. But I wasn't going to do it myself."

  "That's not really any better," I said.

  "I suppose from your perspective it wouldn't be, no."

  "Is that what you're here for this time? To kidnap me?"

  "No. I've already told you why I'm here. No offense, but you're a little slow on the uptake today."

  Anton continued to stand solidly in my way, staring at me.