Pure (Book 1, Pure Series)

by Mesick, Catherine

  GM looked at me sadly. "I don't know anything else. Solnyshko, you must work to push these 'visions' away. I don't know where they come from, but I do know they aren't good for you."

  "Who is Galina?" I asked. "Why does she believe that she knows about my mother?"

  "Galina and your mother were very good friends from the time they were small. Galina, as she grew up, began to believe in the local superstitions of Krov. To my despair your mother did also."

  "You said my mother died of a fever, but to Galina you also said that superstition killed her. What did you mean by that?"

  GM pursed her lips together, as if working through something difficult. Then she spoke. "Your mother had the fever for many weeks. The doctor urged her to stay in bed. But Nadya kept sneaking out of the house. She would ramble around town all night, and she was always worse when she returned in the morning. She believed she was fulfilling some kind of mission, stopping some great evil. One morning Nadya was found out in a petrified forest on the outskirts of Krov. That is the morning her fever won. Nadya was delirious and too weak to survive after that. She only lived a few more days. I wonder often if she would have lived, if she hadn't believed that she had to force herself to go out and fight monsters in the dark."

  So, that's why GM had told me on Sunday that there was nothing in the dark. She was afraid I would imitate my mother if I listened to Galina. The pain in GM’s voice tugged on my heart.

  "What was it that my mother thought she had to do?" I asked.

  "I don't know," GM said. "I know it had something to do with Gleb. But what it was exactly, I truly don't know. And I firmly believe that there was nothing in it. Your mother had no supernatural calling. And neither do you. Trust me, Solnyshko."

  GM gave me a steady, level look – as if she were trying to impress her words on me as much as possible.

  I gave GM a hug. I knew this had been hard for her. "Thanks, GM, for telling me all of that."

  She hugged me back tightly, and in that hug I could feel just how much she feared to lose me.

  I felt calmer after talking to GM. She had tried to answer my questions, but it sounded like only Galina could answer them properly, and she was gone. I would have to figure things out on my own. GM did not believe in the visions. But I couldn't deny what I had seen in the mirror – not after it had translated itself into the real world.

  That evening we ate dinner quietly, and I went up to my room to do my homework. As I worked, though, my mind drifted. I thought first of Charisse, but I pushed the thought away quickly. Her angry words still stung, even in memory. And as far as I could see, there was nothing I could do. I had tried calling and texting her, but she wouldn't answer. I certainly couldn't tell anybody about her plan – I could never be disloyal to Charisse like that. All I could do was hope that she would eventually come to her senses.

  I tried to get back to work, but my mind drifted next to the strange guy from the mirror and what GM had said. The whole thing was oddly unnerving. GM had said that my mother had had visions of Gleb Mstislav. And Galina believed that the same man killed my mother. GM disagreed, but she believed Gleb had been guilty of murder. And I had been having visions of a strange guy – was I seeing Gleb Mstislav? But I couldn't be – Gleb was dead, and I had seen the guy from my visions in the flesh. I had even touched him. So he couldn't be Gleb Mstislav. A chill spread through my body – unless he isn't what he seems a small voice whispered.

  Horrible thoughts crowded into my mind. What if he is Gleb? What if he is dead? What if something is going on here that you don't understand?

  I stood up and went to the window. I opened the curtains and stared out into the darkness. I thought back to the night calling that had plagued me until recently. Now that I came to think about it, the night calling had stopped when the visions had started. And the visions had stopped when I had finally met the guy from the mirror in person. Though the idea was crazy, I began to wonder if someone was setting a trap for me. While searching online on Monday for information about spirits and vampires, I had come across legends of supernatural creatures who planted ideas in the minds of potential victims and then lured them to their deaths.

  I shook my head to clear it. I couldn't think things like that – it was insane. And how normal is seeing faces that aren't there in a mirror? asked a voice in my head.

  And then, entirely unbidden, a question popped into my mind. What if the guy from the mirror is a vengeful ghost, returned from the grave to kill you just like he killed your mother?

  I took a deep breath. The idea was completely ridiculous. It just wasn't possible. But it occurred to me that there was a way to find out – I could ask him myself. He'd said he would come if I called. Say 'Katie Wickliff summons you.'

  I decided I would do it – I would call him.

  I stood still and listened. GM was still up and would be up for hours. I didn't want her to be up when I tried it – though I wasn't sure why. After all, it probably wouldn't work – how could it? There was no way he could hear me speaking over any distance. The only way he could hear me is if he were hanging around my house at night, hoping I would go outside and call him. And if he did that, he was probably a psycho.

  That was no good. I couldn't think that way – it was only leading me down a different dark path. I resolved to go outside after GM was asleep and call for the strange guy. Then, when he didn't show up, I could prove to myself that he was neither vengeful ghost nor psycho.

  I sat down at my desk again and forced myself to concentrate on my homework.

  Time went by, but it went by as slowly as possible. Eventually, I heard GM settle into her room for the night. I waited a little while longer, and then I crept out into the night.

  I stood in my driveway, looking up and down the street. Everything was quiet. There was no one to see my little experiment.

  It occurred to me that as far-fetched as it might seem that the guy from the mirror was hanging out in my yard, I really should check just to be sure.

  I went over the yard thoroughly with a flashlight. We didn't have shrubbery, but we did have a few trees, and I shone my light up into their scantily clad branches. No one was hiding up in our trees or anywhere in our yard that I could see. I went to the shed in the back where we kept the lawn mower. No one was in the shed, either.

  Just to be sure I was covering all possibilities, I walked from one end of my street to the other slowly, going over my neighbor's yards with my flashlight. As far as I could tell, no one was hiding on my street – or if someone was, there was no way he was hiding out close enough to my house to hear me speak.

  I returned to my yard and went out back to stand under my bedroom window.

  Feeling slightly foolish, I took a deep breath and prepared to summon the strange guy from the mirror.

  There's no way this'll work, I told myself.

  I breathed out slowly. Then in a whisper, I spoke the words he had told me to say.

  "Katie Wickliff summons you."

  There was a ripple in the air around me, and then a short sharp breeze. The guy from the mirror was suddenly standing before me, his face pale in the dim light.

  He grasped me by the wrist.

  "What is it?" he demanded. "What's wrong?"

  He pulled me away from the house. "Is he here?"

  I was momentarily stunned. All I could do was stare up at him.

  "Katie, answer me."

  "How did you get here?" I stammered. "I searched my yard. I searched the street. You weren't there. You couldn't possibly have heard me."

  His grip on my wrist tightened. "Is he here?"

  "Who?" I asked.

  He looked toward the house. "Gleb Mstislav."

  I forced myself to focus. No matter how he had gotten here, I had called him for a reason.

  "Gleb Mstislav," he repeated. "Is he here?"

  "You tell me," I said.

  He blinked, and then stared at me puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

  "Tonight,
my grandmother told me that my mother had visions of Gleb. And I've been having visions, too. Visions of you. And then the other day you suddenly appeared in the flesh. So who are you? Are you Gleb returned to haunt me just as you haunted her?"

  He seemed startled by my words. "No. I am not Gleb Mstislav."

  "Then who are you?" I demanded.

  "My name is William," he said. "William Sursur."

  "Anyone can make up a name," I said. "How do I know you aren't Gleb?"

  "Because I am here to kill him," William said.

  "My grandmother told me he's already dead."

  "He is."

  I felt a chill steal over me. "How can you kill someone who's already dead?"

  "That's not something you need to worry about."

  "If he's already dead," I said, "is he a ghost?"

  "No."

  "Then what is he?"

  "That's not something you need to worry about, either."

  I looked down. "You're still holding my wrist," I said.

  His hand moved, and he wrapped his fingers around mine. His skin was warm, and his palm pleasantly callused. I felt a tingle run through me where his fingers touched.

  "Tell me more about your visions," William said.

  It was a difficult subject to start in on. I felt strangely light-headed. "I saw you in the bathroom mirror."

  William's lips twitched into a half-smile. "I was in the girls bathroom."

  "I saw you before that – in the mirror in my bathroom here at home. You were standing behind me. When I turned around, you weren't there. I saw you again in the side mirror of my grandmother's car. And in a TV screen. I even saw your face in a glass of milk. I kept seeing you everywhere."

  "And what did you think?" he asked quietly.

  "It was scary, at first."

  "And now?"

  "Not so much. You're different in person."

  I thought I saw a reddish tinge suffuse William's face, but in the dim light, I couldn't be entirely certain.

  "You mentioned your mother," William said. "You said she had visions of Gleb. Why didn't you ask her to describe him? Gleb and I are nothing alike. I'm sure she could have told you that."

  I wasn't used to talking about my mother much, but I felt like it was important to tell William what had happened to her. "My mother died years ago. I'd always been told she died of a fever. But Galina said a man killed her. She didn't say the name – but tonight GM – that's what I call my grandmother – GM told me that Galina believes Gleb was the man responsible."

  William frowned, and his face took on the same harsh lines that I had seen when he'd first appeared in my mirror.

  "I don't want to alarm you," he said,"but I have to tell you the truth. Your life may be in danger. Promise me you won't go anywhere alone at night. You're safe enough during the day, but at night you need to be very, very careful."

  The tone of his voice made me shiver. "What do you mean I'm in danger?"

  He shook his head. "I can't tell you. I've got to go now. But you'll see me again."

  William was still holding my hand. He began to pull me back toward the house. "You should go inside now."

  I followed him, but I was strangely unwilling to let him go. "You know, your not telling me anything won't really make me less anxious."

  "You wouldn't believe me, even if I could tell you."

  We walked up to the door.

  "I'll stay until I see the door close behind you," William said.

  I turned to open the door.

  "Wait just a moment," he said.

  I turned back.

  "You summoned me here thinking I might be the person who killed your mother."

  "Yes," I said.

  "Why?" he asked. "Why would you do something like that?"

  "I called you because I didn't want it to be true."

  A smile twitched at one corner of his lips.

  I was still thinking of that half smile of his when I fell asleep that night.

  Chapter 6.

  I walked to school on Thursday morning in a troubled frame of mind.

  If I believed what William had told me, then there was a dead man named Gleb Mstislav wandering around out there, and he might even be after me. I shivered inside my coat as I realized that I did, in fact, believe him.

  So what did Gleb want? And had he really killed my mother?

  And what of William himself? I didn't know who he was – apart from his name. I didn't know how he had been able to hear me calling him – or how had he gotten to me so quickly. I did know that I wanted to see him again. He'd said that I would. I hoped it would be soon.

  As I drew closer to school, my thoughts turned to Charisse. I wondered what type of reception I would receive when I saw her. I had a feeling that she would still be furious. Suddenly I felt a brief flash of panic. I wondered if Charisse and Branden would have eloped yet. I really hoped they hadn't.

  I walked into the schoolyard and realized with a sinking heart that I need not have worried about what sort of reception I would receive from Charisse. I could see quite clearly that the picnic table Charisse had staked out since the beginning of the year was empty.

  A familiar blond-haired figure with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans kicked at the ground nearby. His back was to me, and his head was down.

  I walked over to him. "Hey Simon."

  Simon turned and looked at me. I was shocked by the way he looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was pale. He was clearly miserable.

  "Simon, what's wrong?" I asked.

  A muscle worked in his jaw, and it was a moment before he answered. He grated out one word.

  "James."

  "Maybe it's just another misunderstanding," I said quickly. "Maybe there's a good explanation."

  Simon shook his head, and his face contorted as if he were in pain. "It's not the police this time. It's James himself. He's gone."

  "Gone? You mean he ran away from home?"

  Simon shook his head again and looked down at his feet. "He was taken."

  I frowned. "Taken? What do you mean he was taken?"

  Simon looked up at the sky. "Look, I don't expect you to believe this, but our house was attacked last night – just a little past eleven. James was out on the mud porch at the back of the house. He goes out there with his laptop sometimes – for the wireless reception. So, I was up in my room, and I heard this serious crashing and screaming downstairs. I ran down to find out what was going on, and I found my mom and dad staring out into the mud porch. The back door had been torn clean off its hinges, and James was gone. I ran outside, but I couldn't see him anywhere. I ran into the woods behind our house, but I couldn't find any sign of him. Then I went back home. In the meantime, my parents had called the police—"

  Simon broke off, and he stood for several moments not saying anything. Then he looked at me.

  "Somebody took my brother, Katie. Somebody took him. Some freak broke into our house and dragged him into the forest. Who would do that?"

  I felt a chill run through me. "Oh, Simon, I'm so sorry," I said.

  "The police said they have no leads. They even think some of James's former friends might have come after him, or helped him to stage this. But Katie, you didn't hear those screams. Something really wrong happened last night – there was nothing normal about it."

  "Why didn't you call me?" I asked.

  "I couldn't do that to you," Simon said. "I wanted you to sleep. Besides, there was nothing you could have done."

  "You should have called me anyway," I said. "And why did you come to school today? You really should have stayed home."

  Simon shook his head. "It's better to be at school. Both of my parents are at work, anyway. I didn't want to be home alone. Sitting around doing nothing wouldn't do anyone any good. I know my parents will call me the second they hear something."

  It was hard for me to see the pain in Simon's face. "Simon you know that if there's anything I can do—"
r />   Simon interrupted. "You're doing me a world of good. Just by being near me."

  We stood in silence for a moment, and I thought over everything Simon had told me.

  "Simon, you don't think the police could be right, do you?" I asked. "Maybe some of James's old friends came after him?"

  "Not a chance. I can understand why you would ask, though. But James is different. He's severed his old ties. And he told me that he doesn't owe anybody anything. He said he made right with everybody. And I really believe he did."

  Simon's voice trailed off.

  He went on in a rush. "But you know what? This does remind me of what Branden told us yesterday."

  "What was that?" I asked. The only thing I could think of was Branden and Charisse's impending wedding, but it didn't seem very likely that that was what Simon was referring to. Then I wondered if he knew about it. Surely, they had told him?

  Simon noticed my hesitation and gave me a wry smile. "Don't worry. I know about Branden and Charisse's crazy marriage plan. Branden told me yesterday after school. What I was thinking of was something he said earlier in the day. Do you remember what said at lunch? About Mr. Del Gatto?"

  "Yes. Branden said he'd heard that Mr. Del Gatto had disappeared."

  Simon nodded urgently. "He also said that someone had pulled his door off its hinges. That's the same thing that happened at our house."

  "I don't quite understand," I said. "You think someone is going around kidnapping grown or nearly grown men?"

  "I haven't seen Mr. Del Gatto around recently, have you?" Simon asked grimly.

  "I had wondered about Mr. Del Gatto, too," I replied. "But Mr. Hightower said Mr. Del Gatto would be out for a few days. He already knew the absences were coming, so Mr. Del Gatto must be in contact with the school. Maybe his house just got broken into and vandalized while he's out sick or hospitalized or whatever it is that's taken him away from school."

  Simon sighed in exasperation. "I don't know. Maybe."

  I recognized the stubborn set of his jaw. He'd made up his mind. I decided to switch topics – talking about James's disappearance wasn't helping him at the moment. I cast about for something to say, but I couldn't come up with anything. At last, I decided words wouldn't really help anyway.