Dangerous Creatures (Book 3, Pure Series)

by Catherine Mesick

The bodies of those villagers now lay in vast tunnels that stretched underneath the entire length of the Wasteland.

  Though I didn't know how the villagers had died, I knew their deaths had not been natural. Krov was a hotspot for mystical, otherworldly things, and the Pure Woods, which sat just beyond the Wasteland and the monastery, was home to many supernatural creatures of both the dark and light persuasions. And the woods were more than just a home for supernatural creatures—there was power in the place itself.

  It was in the Pure Woods that I had discovered the clear fire—a sphere of pure energy that my mother, and later I, had used to battle Gleb Mstislav. It was a site both sacred and transcendent.

  And the Pure Woods was not the only place that hid supernatural secrets. The Wasteland, in addition to the vast catacombs that stretched beneath it, had another secret that it protected. The surface, though stark and apparently lifeless, was actually the site of a thriving vampire village that was invisible to human eyes—there was a barrier around it that made it impossible to see from the outside, and the barrier also worked to ward off any creatures that didn't have vampire blood.

  The village was known as Zamochit—and last year I had stumbled into it entirely by accident. Not long afterward, some of its denizens had converged on me in a decidedly unfriendly fashion.

  Zamochit Village was not a place I ever wanted to visit again.

  Luckily, the ghost girl continued to move past the Wasteland, and before long, we were streaking past the ghostly white trees of the Pure Woods.

  Even though it was nearly the end of April, all the trees in the woods were bare—the Pure Woods was a petrified forest, and its lifeless branches would never bear flowers or leaves again.

  In moments, the ghost girl and I had moved beyond the Pure Woods, and we were entering territory that I had never seen before.

  We flew past roads, fields, trees, houses. Without warning, we ducked into a lush forest with a healthy growth of normal, unpetrified trees, and I shut my eyes as branches and tree trunks came flying at my face.

  But the ghost girl got us through unscathed, and before long, we broke through the line of trees and came out into a wide clearing.

  I heard a splash then, and we came to an abrupt stop. I looked around. The ghost girl was standing in the middle of a surging stream, and I was clinging to her back, my feet dangling just above the water.

  "Why have we stopped?" I asked. "Is anything wrong?"

  "We've stopped," the ghost girl said, "because we've almost finished what we're doing."

  I glanced at the steam that rushed around the ghost girl's legs. "What are we doing?"

  "It's an old trick to throw a hunter off your trail," the girl replied. "It's usually used on hunting dogs, but my hope is that it'll work on the Hunter, too. Our trail will lead into this stream, and then he won't be able to pick it up again on the other side—ostensibly because we were wet and our scent rinsed off in the stream. With any luck the Hunter will believe we kept going in the same direction. He'll think we're trying to get back to Moscow and the airport."

  "That sounds like a good plan to me," I said. "Are you sure there isn't a closer airport than the one in Moscow?"

  "Actually there is," the girl said. "Then, with any luck, he'll think we're headed to that one. It's the best I can do. My name's Sachiko, by the way."

  "I'm Katie," I said.

  "I know," Sachiko replied.

  "So if we're trying to throw the Hunter off our trail here," I said. "Does that mean we're actually going in a different direction?"

  "Yes."

  Without another word, Sachiko calmly tipped me off her back into the rushing stream. The water was shockingly cold, and I gasped for breath as I fell in all the way up to my neck.

  "Sorry about that." Sachiko held out a small, ice-cold hand and hauled me to my feet. "I know you haven't actually touched the ground since we left the house, but I think we should take every possible precaution. We should both rinse off here and try to disguise our scent as much as possible. Ideally, we should do something about my tracks, too, but we don't have time for everything."

  Sachiko began to splash herself liberally with water, and despite the cold of the stream, I followed her example.

  Sachiko seemed to notice the grimace on my face. "The water's probably terribly cold for you," she said. "Sorry about that, too. I think it's runoff from a mountain somewhere."

  Once we were sufficiently drenched to suit her, Sachiko held up a hand for silence, and we both stood still as she listened.

  "There's no sound of pursuit yet," she said. "But the Hunter will be able to track us eventually. We should follow the stream for a while before we get out onto dry land again. We don't want him to spot that we reemerged from the stream on the same side."

  Sachiko began to wade through the swirling water, and I followed her.

  "So where are we actually going?" I asked.

  "To Zamochit Village."

  I stopped. "Zamochit Village? You're not serious."

  Sachiko glanced back at me. "Of course I'm serious. And keep moving. Every minute counts."

  I started to walk again. "Why Zamochit?"

  "Because I have a safe house there and a friend who can help us." Sachiko's voice grew sharp. "Keep up."

  I hurried along until I was walking beside her.

  Eventually, Sachiko decided that we'd travelled down the stream long enough, and the two of us clambered up on the bank. I was shaking and my teeth were chattering involuntarily from the cold, but Sachiko gave me no time to rest. Before I knew it, my arms were around her neck again, and the two of us were streaking across the night, headed back the same way we had originally come.

  Far too soon, we reached the blighted plain of the Wasteland, and Sachiko came to a stop.

  I looked around and shivered, and this time, the shivering had nothing to do with how cold I was. Although I couldn't see it, I knew Zamochit was uncomfortably close.

  Sachiko stood for a long time staring out over the vast gray field around us. We were both still damp, but our fast flight through the night had done quite a bit to wring the water from our hair and clothes. As Sachiko stood in her damp jeans and jacket, she looked even more like an ordinary high school student—anyone who happened to see her standing on this lonely spot might think she had come backpacking to Russia and had simply gotten lost.

  "It really wasn't you, was it?" I said.

  Sachiko glanced back at me. "What wasn't me?"

  "You're the face of the ghost girl," I said. "You're the one everyone sees. But you're not responsible for the disappearances. You said that, and Anton said it, too."

  "I'm no more responsible for those disappearances than you are," Sachiko said.

  "What I mean is—I don't see how anyone could believe you were responsible for them. You look so young and innocent. You may be the face of the ghost girl, but you certainly don't have the face of a criminal."

  Sachiko gave me a wry smile. "No one's really seen me, remember? Except for your friend Anton. Besides, you should know by now that a sweet young face can hide a dark heart, especially amongst those of my kind. There are plenty of pretty little things that have committed atrocities in Zamochit Village. The only difference this time is that the atrocities were committed against vampires, rather than by them."

  "I do know only too well that youth and beauty are not a sign of goodness," I said. "But it's different with you. There's another quality in your face that has nothing to do with age or prettiness."

  "Innocence?" Sachiko suggested. "You used that word before."

  "That's it," I said. "Innocence."

  Sachiko shook her head. "You're wrong. I'm far from perfect—trust me. I could tell you about some of the things I've done, but if I did, you might not agree to come with me any longer. You might run screaming back to your house."

  "I'm sure that's true," I said. "But there's still something about you that's different."

  "You can believe anything you
like." Sachiko started to walk. "Come on. We should try this way."

  I followed her across the empty gray landscape. "So why do you do it?"

  "Why do I do what?"

  "Why do you keep track of the disappearances?" I asked. "Why do you keep track of—"

  "Everything?"

  "Yes," I said.

  Sachiko shrugged. "I'm a spy."

  "What do you do it for?" I asked.

  Sachiko looked around at me. "Do I sell my information to the highest bidder? Is that it?"

  "You can put it that way, if you like," I said.

  "Well, I do want to put it like that," Sachiko said. "There's no point in dancing around the truth. You should say exactly what you want to say when you want to say it. And no, I don't sell information to anybody, though there are certainly people who do that. Your cousin Odette was one of the best information traffickers out there—until she disappeared. I tell you this not to offend you, but because it's the truth."

  "I already know about Odette's spying," I said. "I've heard about it from others."

  "Well, you don't know about mine," Sachiko said. "I spy to keep myself safe. You can't depend on that group up at the castle—they never tell anybody anything. They claim they keep secrets because they're working for the good of all, but they're really only out for themselves."

  Sachiko stopped again and looked out over the Wasteland.

  "What are you looking for?" I asked.

  "A way in."

  "It's all right," I said. "I can enter Zamochit. The barrier won't stop me."

  "I know," Sachiko said. "But we can't go in just anywhere. I have to figure out the right way to do this."

  "But we can just go in," I said. "I've done it before."

  "You don't understand," Sachiko said. "The whole village is on alert for you and has been for quite some time now. If we go in just anywhere, and you're spotted—well, let's just say that we'll both be in a lot of trouble. And you'll be spotted right away. You'll be the only human for miles. They'll scent you."

  "They're on alert for me?" I said.

  "Of course. The queen in particular was hysterical about your visit to the castle last year. She couldn't believe that they trusted you and let you in. She said you could have murdered them all."

  "The queen?" I said. "But she actually met me. She must know that I'm not the ghost girl."

  "That's where you're wrong."

  "But the queen knows what I look like," I protested. "She can't possibly believe I'm the ghost girl. If the ghost girl looks like you, she can't be me."

  Sachiko smiled. "Like I said—no one's seen the ghost girl. From what I've heard, people have only glimpsed a female form and sometimes a dark eye—occasionally they catch sight of my hair. The queen and all the others know what you look like. And they also know that you don't look like the girl who's been spotted. But they have an explanation for that—they believe that you can change your form."

  "I can do what?" I said.

  "The rumor is that the Sìdh gave you the power to alter your appearance at will. It's well known that the Sìdh hate the vampires. And with the Werdulac on the rise, the story goes that the Sìdh have expanded your role beyond that of kost killer. They have decided to transform you into a shape-shifting vampire killer—one who could be anywhere at any moment."

  "That's completely insane," I said.

  "Maybe it is," Sachiko said. "But that's what they believe."

  "Then what about the hybrids?" I said. "I heard someone was getting rid of the hybrids by the same method that's been used on the vampires."

  "That's also supposed to be you," Sachiko said. "The hybrids are half vampire, and they work for the Werdulac. So, of course, you hate them, too."

  "And what about you?" I asked. "What do you believe?"

  Sachiko smiled again. "I wondered when you'd get around to asking that. After all, I know I'm not the real ghost girl, so why shouldn't I believe it's you? In fact, why shouldn't I lure you away from your friends and turn you over to the queen myself? I'm sure I could get quite a reward for turning you in."

  I stared at Sachiko. "I don't believe you'd do that."

  "You're right. I wouldn't. I wouldn't turn you in even if I did believe you were the ghost girl—which I don't. I've actually seen what's happened. The queen and the others only go off of feelings—they don't worry about facts."

  "I don't entirely understand," I said. "If the queen and the rest of the court want to get rid of me, why did they send Anton to help me?"

  "I never said the rest of the court wants to get rid of you," Sachiko said. "Basically, the queen and the average citizen of Zamochit believes you are the ghost girl and wants you killed. But there are a few cooler heads, namely Innokenti and the king. Though it's mostly Innokenti who's responsible for your safety—he's the coolest head around. He knows what's at stake if you're killed. That's why everything surrounding you is so hush-hush. He has to keep you safe without ruffling any feathers."

  "So who is the real ghost girl?" I asked. "If it's not you and it's not me, who's actually been doing away with vampires?"

  "No one."

  "No one?" I said.

  "No one. The ghost girl isn't real." Sachiko turned around suddenly. "You know what? I just figured out how we can get you in. Come on. We'll worry about the other stuff later."

  Sachiko grabbed me by the hand and dragged me across the Wasteland. Then she stopped abruptly and released me.

  "I think this is about the right spot," she said. "Now, stand right here, and don't move. I'll be back."

  She took a few steps forward and vanished.

  I was suddenly all alone on the empty plain.

  I knew that Sachiko had stepped into Zamochit Village—and that I could follow her if I chose. But I also knew that her caution was justified—I was likely to be set upon quickly if I stepped into the vampire village. But all the same, as I stood on the flat, featureless plain of the Wasteland, I began to feel exposed and distinctly nervous. The ordinary noises of the night began to sound unnaturally loud, and every time I felt the slightest breeze, I was sure it was a vampire creeping up behind me.

  I waited in an agony, and Sachiko did not return.

  Time stretched on.

  I was just eyeing a suspicious shadow that seemed to be moving closer to me, when Sachiko reappeared carrying two bottles.

  "Sachiko, what is that over there?" I said.

  "Over where?" she asked.

  "That shadow. Over there."

  Sachiko glanced in the direction I indicated. "That's nothing."

  "What is it?" I said.

  "If you must know it's a raccoon—not everything in the dark is a vampire. Now hold still."

  Sachiko quickly uncorked the two bottles and upended them over my head.

  "What are you doing?" I said.

  "Disguising you," she replied. "Just on the other side of the barrier here there's a wine shop. The wine is sweet-smelling and strong—a bit like the scent of human blood—and it should be just enough to confuse any vampires we run across."

  "But isn't vampire alcohol made of—"

  I stopped. Last year, when I'd traveled through Zamochit Village with Odette, she'd told me that vampire spirits were distilled from blood. I looked at my wine-soaked arms in horror.

  "Isn't it made of blood?" Sachiko finished for me. "I may be a vampire, but I'm not a monster. Some vampire alcohol is made of blood, but not all of it is. In fact, most of it isn't. It's only the really expensive stuff that's made that way. And we won't be in the part of town where people can afford that anyway. I used the cheap, ordinary stuff. There's nothing on you but fermented grape juice."

  I brushed my wine-drenched hair away from my face. "That's a relief. Does regular wine have any effect on vampires?"

  "I suppose it does if you drink enough of it," Sachiko replied. "But I really don't know. It sells well enough, so I suppose people must be getting something out of it."

  She finished pouring the la
st of the wine out over me.

  "Now you're all set. You just smile and stumble a lot, and I'll tell anyone we meet that you've been on a bender. And try not to say anything at all. There are subtle differences between a human voice and a vampire voice for those who are paying attention. We don't want to give anything away."

  "What about you?" I said. "Do you need a disguise?"

  "I have one—just in case," Sachiko said, slipping on a plain black mask. "I just tell everyone that I've been disfigured and have to wear this. Since they can tell by my scent that I'm a vampire, they don't worry about it too much. After all, the ghost girl—you—is supposed to be a human. No vampires are suspected at all."

  "It's a good thing vampires have decided to trust one another," I said.

  Sachiko shifted her mask a little. "Actually, it's a good thing we're all so vain."

  Chapter 21.

  Sachiko took my hand, and the two of us stepped across the barrier. As we passed through, I felt the same strange tingling sensation I'd felt last year when I'd crossed the barrier for the first time. Other than that, I experienced no difficulty at all.

  The vast, empty space that was the Wasteland vanished, and the village of Zamochit sprang up in its place. Suddenly, Sachiko and I were standing in a dark alley between two buildings, and I had to assume that one of the two was the wine shop from which Sachiko had obtained her supplies.

  I could see dimly that the building to my right had a broken window, and I wondered if that was how Sachiko had gotten in.

  "Follow me," she whispered in my ear. "And remember what I said. Don't say a word. You can start speaking again once we get to the safe house."

  Sachiko kept a hold on my hand—ostensibly because I was inebriated—and she led me through the dark and winding streets of Zamochit. Houses and buildings popped up at odd angles, and the cobblestone streets we followed often seemed to come to an abrupt stop before picking up again a few yards later. The entire neighborhood had a makeshift, ramshackle feel to it—much like the part of town I'd originally stumbled into last year.

  There was no readily discernable source of light in Zamochit, but the entire place was suffused with a faint, silver light that was barely enough for me to see by, but was probably more than sufficient for the average vampire. As Sachiko and I hurried along, every once in a while I got a glimpse of Rusalka Castle between two buildings. The great stone fortress dominated Zamochit's skyline, and it was home to Zamochit's government—the king, the queen, and their chief minister, Innokenti. I had been to the castle once before, and the experience had been unnerving to say the least. As Sachiko and I crossed a cramped street that was lined on both sides by dingy houses, I caught another glimpse of Rusalka, and I paused to look at it.