Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series)

by Mesick, Catherine

  I thought then of the clear fire. I had first learned to summon it in these woods—it was an ability I had inherited from my mother. The clear fire had great power over the dark creatures that lived in the Pure Woods—the kost was particularly vulnerable to it.

  The clear fire, however, wasn't very effective against vampires, but they didn't like to be around it all the same. If I could summon it, it might help to protect me while I searched for the Leshi.

  And I remembered that the clear fire had always given me a profound sense of calm.

  I began to walk in the direction of the stone circle where I had first summoned the clear fire. I reached out with my mind as I did so, searching for the fire, searching for its energy.

  I sang the melody my mother had taught me, the one that unlocked the spiritual door behind which the clear fire was hidden.

  I tried to draw it to me, tried to will it to appear.

  As I walked, I began to feel calmer—I sensed something soft and soothing in the night, like a song I couldn't hear, but could only feel. I had assumed when my visions left me that my connection to the clear fire had been severed too. But perhaps I had been wrong. Perhaps I could find it again.

  I followed the softness on the air, concentrating on it. Soon, I spied a glow up ahead.

  I hurried toward it.

  As I drew near the glow, I saw that it was emanating from a figure that was tall and starkly white—it looked very much like the figure of a man. As I watched, the man began to sink into the ground, disappearing inch by inch. I ran forward, trying to catch him before he disappeared completely.

  The man's head sank into the ground and vanished just as I reached the spot where he had stood only a moment before. I was surprised to see that a wide swath of snow now stretched in front of me. I kneeled beside it and brushed the snow away with my fingers. The snow was cold, but something underneath it was even colder.

  Soon I could see that there was ice under the snow, and something white gleamed at me from beneath the ice. I kept scraping the snow away, and before long, I found myself staring at a figure that was entirely buried in the ice—it was the man I had seen emerging from the cave in Elspeth's Grove and the face I had seen in the icon in Moscow. It was the Werdulac—dressed in his tattered clothes, his skin an unnatural, glowing white, his hair matted, his eyes closed.

  His face was mesmerizing, and I found myself unable to look away. As I continued to stare at the Werdulac, his eyes opened.

  His eyes were a solid blue-gray with no pupil, as if he were some kind of sightless deep-sea creature, and as I gazed into them, I felt myself falling forward. I crashed through the ice, and I began to plummet through empty space. I could no longer see the Werdulac—everything was black. I continued to fall. I no longer knew where I was, and I reached out blindly, grasping for something to break my fall.

  Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head.

  My eyes flew open.

  I was still in the Pure Woods. I had left the patch of snow and ice far behind and had apparently been walking through the woods with my eyes closed.

  Had I been in a trance? I tried to remember what I had been doing exactly.

  I had a vague memory of a song—something that had tried to lead me on—just like in Elspeth's Grove.

  I caught sight then of a flicker of flame in amongst the trees ahead of me. The flickering was faint, and as I watched, it disappeared. A moment later, I glimpsed it again—and then a thin ribbon of smoke passed in front of it and it vanished once again.

  I wondered if the flickering could be the witch-fire.

  I hurried toward it.

  As soon as I saw the source of the flickering, I skidded to a halt, my feet slipping on the forest floor.

  There was a small clearing just in front of me. In the center was a pit with a small fire—it was far too small, in fact, to have generated the types of blazes that GM and I had seen earlier. The fire before me was obviously not witch-fire.

  But that was not what had given me pause. Swirling slowly around the fire was smoke—smoke of a kind that I had seen before. It was writhing and twisting, turning in on itself in tormented shapes. It was black where it touched the light and white where it touched the darkness. It was the distinctive smoke trail that was generated by a kost—a trail that only I could see.

  And lying in front of the fire was a body in a shroud.

  The smoke was twisting around the body.

  I was clearly looking at an active kost.

  All around the fire were figures swathed in furs, their faces hidden by hoods. They were whispering—a sinister, ugly sound. I'd heard whispering like it once before—back in the cave in Elspeth's Grove when Gleb and Timofei had hidden there.

  As I watched, the smoke twisted faster and faster, and then rose up in a ghostly column toward the dark sky.

  The figure in the shroud twitched.

  Then it sat up.

  The shroud fell away to reveal a face I knew all too well.

  It was Timofei Mstislav.

  His face was handsome as it had been in life, but now his skin was the horrible bleached-bone white of the dead. He opened his eyes, and I saw green flame blazing in them—the same green flame I'd seen burning in the eyes of his father.

  Those eyes, full of malice, full of hatred, shifted.

  And looked right into mine.

  Before I could react, one of the figures surrounding the fire surged forward and latched onto Timofei's neck.

  The figure appeared to be biting him.

  The other figures surged forward next, shielding Timofei from my view, and the air was torn by his screams.

  I did react then—stumbling backwards and running through the trees. I had no thought in my mind other than getting away from the horror behind me as fast as I could.

  I ran back to Galina's house and grabbed up the lantern, which I lit with shaking fingers. I looked around frantically for the bicycle, but I couldn't see it.

  So I ran.

  I ran away from the house and the Pure Woods. I ran along the dark, deserted road that cut across the vast and empty Wasteland. I ran until my lungs burned and my sides were sore.

  The only sound I could hear was my own ragged breathing, which sounded dangerously, unnaturally loud in the quiet.

  Something made me glance over my shoulder, and I saw a white figure behind me, following me.

  A cold wave of fear washed over me.

  I ran harder, but when I looked over my shoulder, the white figure was even closer.

  I felt tears stinging my eyes.

  The white figure was going to catch me.

  Soon I could hear the heavy sound of pursuit—it sounded like approaching thunder.

  There was a rush of wind, and the white figure shot past me. It wheeled around sharply and came to a stop right in front of me on the road.

  I cried out as I ran into the huge, solid body in front of me.

  I fell to the ground. My lantern landed beside me and went out.

  I lay on the road for a long time before I dared to look up. I waited, bracing my body for an attack. But an attack did not come. I listened, but once again, all I heard was my own breathing.

  I didn't want to look up. I had the strange idea that if I didn't look at the creature in front of me that it couldn't hurt me—I would just have to stay as I was forever. But as time passed, and silence continued to reign, my eyes lifted involuntarily.

  I found that I was looking up at a horse.

  I shuffled backward and got to my feet, rubbing at my eyes. When I opened them again, I was still looking at a horse.

  It just didn't seem possible.

  For its part, the horse stared back at me placidly. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw amusement in its mild, dark eyes. The animal was beautiful—silver pale, finely molded and delicate in its lines, and its smooth, well-muscled body gave off a faint sheen.

  It was not what I had expected. It was not Timofei Mstislav r
eturned from the grave to destroy me. But a feeling was growing on me that the animal was not what it appeared to be.

  Clearly, it looked like a horse.

  But something told me that it wasn't a horse at all.

  The beautiful creature lifted its head, and I had the strangest feeling that it wanted to me to climb on its back.

  I quickly retrieved my lantern from the road—it was lying on its side with one of its glass panes broken. And though I had never ridden a horse in my life, I managed to climb onto its back and twine my free hand into its thick, glossy mane.

  For one disorienting moment, I'd actually imagined that the horse had shrunk in size while I'd climbed onto its back, making it easier for me. And then I'd imagined that it had grown larger again once I was safely seated.

  That, of course, was impossible.

  The horse started forward, and though I could no longer see where we were headed now that my lantern was extinguished, I knew that we were headed in the direction I wanted to go.

  I sensed that we moved swiftly, but I barely felt the motion at all.

  It was almost as if we were flying rather than galloping.

  I hugged the broken lantern to me and closed my eyes, resting my head against the horse's neck.

  I felt myself relax. I knew that if Timofei or any of the other figures from the clearing were pursuing us, that they would have no chance of catching us. I had a strange feeling that someone had just told me this, though I couldn't remember actually having heard a voice of any kind.

  I let myself float along, and when I opened my eyes again, we had stopped. The horse and I were standing in front of my house. Still clutching my lantern, I slipped down easily off the horse's back.

  I stood for a moment, looking up at the creature before me in the feeble light from our street's two streetlamps. The horse truly was a magnificent animal, and something like sympathy showed in its dark eyes.

  I had the impression that it had just rendered me a great service.

  I lifted a hand to stroke its shining neck.

  "Thank you," I said.

  The horse gazed at me for a moment longer, and then turned and trotted off into the night. I went into the house, and after making sure that the door was locked securely behind me, I went up to my room.

  I knew I should be afraid. I had just seen Timofei Mstislav out in the Pure Woods—and he was supposed to be dead. And dead he actually had been. I knew that for a fact.

  But I had witnessed his restoration to a cursed, unnatural life.

  He had been reborn as a kost. An evil spirit was now animating his lifeless body—a spirit that existed only for revenge and destruction.

  Timofei would come after me—in fact, he was no doubt after me this very moment. I should have been afraid. I should have feared for GM and for myself. But once I reached my room I just set down my lantern, changed my clothes, and climbed into bed.

  I felt peaceful. I felt serene. I felt secure. I also felt very, very tired.

  So I turned out the light.

  And within moments, I was fast asleep.

  I found myself in a dream then—or was it a dream? I felt as if I had slipped through sleep and had landed on solid ground. I suddenly felt very aware of being conscious. I walked through a room that was heavily shrouded in shadow, and though I couldn't see well, I was sure that the walls around me were made of stone.

  Through the darkness, I saw a light glimmering up ahead of me.

  I ran toward it.

  I didn't know where the light was coming from, but I felt no fear in connection with it—instead I was eager, expectant. I was excited to see what was waiting for me.

  Without really seeing it, I knew I was running down a narrow hall. At the end of the hall, I felt, rather than saw, that the space around me had widened, and I had entered a stone-walled chamber.

  The source of the light was right in front of me.

  Before me was a long mirror that covered the length of an entire wall. Shining out from the surface of the mirror was a single golden point of light.

  I walked closer to it.

  I stared into the mirror, but couldn't see what was causing the light—it was as if a star had been trapped inside the mirror itself.

  I continued to stare into the mirror, but apart from the light, I could see only my own face.

  And then there was a flicker—from the light—as if something had passed in front of it.

  I saw a shadow move in the corner of the mirror, and I turned to look at it.

  The shadow disappeared.

  Another shadow moved at the opposite end of the mirror, and I turned toward it.

  This second shadow did not disappear, and soon another shadow joined it. Then there was another and another.

  I peered closer.

  The shadows were actually human forms.

  More shadow forms joined the first ones, and soon I could see an entire crowd of people on the other side of the mirror.

  I did not fear them—instead, I was overcome by an intense longing to know them.

  I placed my hand on the mirror right over the light. I saw the light shining between my fingers, and I marveled when the light suddenly grew brighter.

  I felt the world melt away.

  Chapter 18.

  I awoke some time later, and the darkness of the room told me that it was still night.

  I knew someone else was in the room—I knew instinctively that it was not GM. And yet I wasn't afraid.

  I sat up in my bed and turned blinking toward a small, flickering light in the room. The frame of my bed was large and square, and the piece at the foot of it was thick and flat, like a ledge. A candle sat on the ledge, and its lone column of flame seemed unnaturally bright in my dark room.

  I blinked again.

  Someone was sitting in front of me.

  A girl was leaning on the ledge next to the candle, resting her head on her forearm. She wasn't looking at me—instead she was staring into the candle's flame. Her expression was dreamy and faraway, as if she wasn't even aware of my presence.

  The girl sat so still and was so pale that I wondered for one panicked moment if I was looking at a ghost. But as I continued to stare at the silent figure at the foot of the bed, I realized that I recognized the beautiful alabaster face before me.

  I was looking at my cousin Odette.

  Involuntarily, I flinched backward, hitting my back against my headboard. For one brief moment, I thought about running for the door, but I quickly discarded the idea.

  Odette was fast—too fast. I would never get past her.

  I knew that from experience.

  "What are you doing here, Odette?" I asked. I tried to sound confident, but my heart was hammering so hard that I was sure she could hear it.

  In fact I knew she could hear it. I knew just how keen her senses were.

  Odette did not stir, and I began to wonder if I was dreaming again—at the very least I hoped I was.

  Perhaps I was revisiting a nightmare—Odette and a candle in the dark. I looked her over searchingly, trying to determine if she were real, or simply a figment of my tortured imagination. Her red-gold hair looked dark in the light from the lonely candle, and the look in her eyes as she stared at the flame was soft and contemplative.

  Odette seemed real enough, but the dream that had only just passed—the one with the mirror and the stone walls—had seemed real too.

  Maybe if I waited long enough, she would disappear.

  Odette continued to sit still, and as the silence stretched on, I felt myself relax. I glanced around my dark room—nothing else was creeping out of the shadows to threaten me. I was safe. Surely this was all another vivid dream. All I had to do was wait for it to fade away.

  "I'm the one who stopped you, you know."

  I glanced back at Odette sharply. She was still gazing at the candle, and she didn't appear to have moved at all. I thought she had spoken, and perhaps she had. Imaginary people in dreams spoke all the time�
�the bare fact that they spoke did not make them real.

  Odette sat up then, and a flash of panic ran through me.

  "I've been watching you since you arrived."

  Odette spoke, but she didn't look at me. Instead she continued to stare into the candle flame.

  "Is this a dream?" I asked.

  Odette looked at me then. "What did you say?"

  "Are you really here? Am I dreaming?"

  Odette blinked at me, and a faint look of scorn crept into her eyes.

  "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm really here. And, no. You aren't dreaming."

  She shifted her gaze back to the candle.

  I tried to control the panic that was rising within me. Odette looked calm, but then again she usually did—even when she had murder in her heart. Beautiful and cold, Odette had remained calm back in October when she had plotted against me, serenely poisoning me and luring me out of the house to what she believed would be my death.

  The fact that she had later saved my life told me that she wasn't entirely without compassion. Perhaps she wasn't here to kill me.

  But I couldn't be sure of that.

  "Odette, what are you doing here?" I asked again.

  Maybe I could talk her out of whatever it was she was planning to do—and I knew she had to be planning to do something. She certainly hadn't shown up in my room in the middle of the night just because she missed me.

  Odette continued to stare at the flame, and she answered my question in a tone tinged with irritation.

  "As I said, I've been watching you since you arrived. I came here to tell you that you have to leave. I think you were a fool to come back."

  I was inclined to agree with her, especially after what I'd just seen in the forest. I drew in my breath sharply as the memory of Timofei's ghastly face came flooding back. I looked around then—I half-expected to see him come crashing through my bedroom door at that very moment.

  "What is it?" Odette asked sharply. "What's wrong?"

  "What about Timofei Mstislav?" I asked.

  "I'll get to that. I'm trying to explain what's going on, but you have to be quiet and stop acting like an idiot."

  I forced myself to be calm. Apparently, vampires didn't like to be rushed.