Dangerous Creatures (Book 3, Pure Series)

by Catherine Mesick

  I hurried over and took her hand, and the two of us jumped through the skylight together. We landed on a large pile of cushions that lay directly under the window, and we both got to our feet quickly.

  "That was lucky," I said.

  "That was me," Sachiko replied. "I took the cushions out of a bunch of the carriages and set them up here. We don't have any time to lose, and I wanted to land near William's carriage. Now go and get in, and I'll open the doors."

  I glanced around. I was in a large, dim room that was divided into stalls—it looked a little like a stable, only the stalls contained large, ornate carriages rather than horses.

  "Which one is it?" I asked.

  "The big silver one right there," Sachiko said impatiently. Then she moved off in a blur to the other end of the carriage house.

  I hurried over to the large silver carriage and climbed in. William was lying inside, propped up on a big pile of silver cushions. His head was tilted back, and his eyes were still closed.

  I climbed up on the seat next to William, and I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

  "Please wake up, William," I whispered. But his eyes remained firmly shut.

  A moment later, something jolted the carriage, and I put out an arm to prevent William from falling. There was another jolt, and then the carriage took off at great speed.

  I pulled back the curtain on the window and risked a look outside. We were moving swiftly toward the castle wall, and a moment later, we had passed through one of its open gates.

  Soon we were traveling along Zamochit's meandering streets.

  I let the curtain fall back into place, and then I reached out to brush William's hair away from his face. It was hard for me to see him looking so hurt, and I took his hands in mine, trying to warm them. But the contact with my skin did nothing to warm him, and neither did wrapping him in blankets I found under the seats.

  William's chill persisted, and I began to feel cold fear spreading through me. I quickly opened the window and leaned out.

  "How much further, Sachiko?" I shouted—even though I couldn't see her, I knew she would be able to hear me.

  "I'm going as fast as I can!" Sachiko shouted back. "Just hang on."

  We raced on for a few more minutes, and then the carriage came to an abrupt stop.

  "Sachiko?" I said, leaning out the window again. "Sachiko, is everything okay?"

  There was no answer.

  I wrapped the blankets a little more tightly around William, and then I quickly got out of the carriage.

  "Sachiko?"

  There was still no answer.

  I walked around to the back of the carriage, and I found Sachiko sitting on the ground with her head bowed.

  I rushed over to her. "Sachiko, are you all right?"

  "Yes, I'm fine," she said.

  I glanced around us sharply—as far as I could see there were no dark shapes slinking through the shadows nearby.

  "You weren't attacked, were you?" I asked.

  "No, it's nothing like that," Sachiko said. "It's just—the queen hit me pretty hard back at the castle. And I haven't had time to recover properly. I'm just—really tired."

  "Then you should rest in the carriage," I said. "We won't go any further until you've had a chance to heal."

  Sachiko shook her head. "I can't do that."

  "But you said yourself that the royal crest on the carriage will keep other vampires away," I said. "You can rest, and nobody else will get too curious."

  "It's not that," Sachiko said. "It's William. We can't afford to waste any time getting him to the healer. As it is, we may already be too—"

  Sachiko stopped.

  I felt another cold wave of fear wash over me, but I pushed it aside.

  "Sachiko, you can't push the carriage any longer," I said. "You look like you could use a healer yourself."

  "Katie, William can't wait. If we stop and rest, he's going to—"

  "We'll walk," I said quickly. "You and I will walk, and we'll carry William between us. That way you can rest a little, and we can continue to make progress toward the healer."

  "I don't like it, Katie. We'll be slow. And the two of us carrying someone who is obviously wounded will attract attention. Vampires are natural predators—they can sense weakness. It would be like inviting an attack."

  "I can't let you hurt yourself," I said. "Can you tell me honestly that you'll be okay if you keep up this pace?"

  Sachiko did not reply.

  "Then we're going to walk," I said. "If the village has heard about the ghost girl panic up at the castle, then we might be okay. Nobody will be out looking for victims. The villagers would be more likely to stay away from anything unusual rather than go toward it—even if it looks like it's vulnerable."

  "That's probably true, actually," Sachiko said. She got to her feet. "We'll walk. But we'd still better move as fast as we can. I'll do my best to hurry us along."

  We both went to the door of the carriage, and together we pulled William out. Sachiko also grabbed the stake I had stashed in there, and then the two of us began to walk with William's arms draped over our shoulders.

  As we moved through the empty streets, I could feel Sachiko pushing the pace, but we weren't going very fast by vampire standards. The weight of William's arm was heavy, and his hand, as I touched it with my own, was solid and cold as if it were made of marble. I glanced over at William's pale, still face, and tried to will him to open his eyes. But no matter how hard I hoped, he didn't stir. Fear threatened to overwhelm me then, and I found that it was hard to breathe.

  Sachiko glanced over at me. "You sound like you're struggling over there. Are we going too fast?"

  "No," I said quickly. "This healer we're going to see—"

  "Yes?"

  "What can the healer do to help William? He's in no condition to take pills or any kind of medicine. Do vampire healers give injections? And how can William even be diagnosed if he can't speak?"

  "Vampire healers don't work like human healers," Sachiko said. "A human healer works with the body's natural processes to bring everything back to a healthy state. A human doctor can perform tests because there are optimal levels for things within the human body. If a test shows that something's too high or too low, a human doctor can work to bring everything back into alignment."

  Sachiko paused and then went on with some reluctance.

  "But a vampire body left that optimal human state long ago. The vampire body still has a metabolism, still heals, still functions—and in many ways it actually functions better. But our existence is—unnatural. Essentially, we should not be. So there's no optimal state to bring us back to—or to compare us to. We belong to the darkness, and you have to use darkness to fix us."

  I felt a fresh stab of fear. "Darkness?"

  "Human doctors are respected and trusted," Sachiko said. "And they should be. They alleviate suffering and prolong human life. Vampire healers are different—they're often viewed with fear and suspicion. Their position in the vampire community is not quite reputable."

  "Does that mean that this healer won't help William?" I asked.

  "If he can be helped at all, she can do it," Sachiko said. "I don't doubt that for a moment. She's good—very good. The few vampire healers I know about are all good—they seldom fail. But their vocation is essentially unnatural. It involves taking something that should not be alive and extending its life even further. It involves taking a soul that finally has a chance to rest and moving it once more onto the path to perdition."

  Sachiko glanced over at me. "To most, killing a vampire is kindness rather than cruelty."

  "I don't quite see it that way," I said.

  "Well, you're unusual in that regard. But whatever you think, healing a vampire involves prolonging the life of someone who should have died. And that's a perilous undertaking. It requires darkness—and something I'll call magic, though that may not really be the right word for it. Vampire magic is a dangerous thing. It involves sacrifice—som
etimes it changes people. And that's what it will take to save him."

  I looked over at Sachiko sharply. "Are you saying that healing William will change him? That vampire magic will turn him into someone else?"

  "No," Sachiko said. "William will be fine. Vampire healing works, as I said. But when you use darkness, someone has to pay the price. That's why vampires fear their own healers. They don't fear the effect on the patient necessarily. They fear the effect on the one that pays the bill. And the price to be paid is usually steep."

  "What about the king and queen?" I asked. "Are they afraid of their healer?"

  "No, but then their situation is unique. They're the king and queen, and they have vast resources—and subjects at their disposal. If a price needs to be paid to heal one of them—let's just say that someone else can be found to pay it for them."

  "So I will have to pay a price to get William healed?" I said.

  "Yes."

  "What kind of price will it be?"

  "That depends on what needs to be done."

  I was silent for a long moment. "I'll pay anything for William."

  "I knew you would. That's why I didn't even ask."

  "Did you pay a price for David?" I asked.

  "Yes," Sachiko said. "And I'd do it again."

  She stopped suddenly.

  "Let's use that," Sachiko said with a sharp nod of her head. "It won't be nearly as heavy as the carriage, and we'll be able to go a little faster."

  She began to steer us toward a small, shabby house, and I caught sight of a large wheelbarrow lying on its side nearby. Sachiko guided us right up to the house, and she helped me to prop William up against the wall.

  "Hold him here for just a moment," she said.

  Then she walked over to the wheelbarrow and turned it over.

  "Looks like it works okay." Sachiko gave me a wry smile. "If I get a chance, I'll return it after we're done."

  She wheeled it over to me, and the two of us placed William into it as carefully as we could. Then we both began to run, pushing the wheelbarrow ahead of us.

  As we moved along Zamochit's winding streets, the houses and buildings grew steadily shabbier, and I began to get the uneasy feeling that I recognized the part of town we were entering.

  Sure enough, up ahead I spied the stone watchtower where Odette and I had briefly taken refuge. I realized that if we were near the watchtower, then we were close to the spot through which I had originally entered Zamochit last year—and a place where I had very nearly been attacked. Only Odette's sudden appearance had saved my life.

  "Is this a bad part of town?" I asked as we ran.

  "Yes," Sachiko said. "I told you the healer wasn't exactly reputable."

  "This is close to the place where I came into Zamochit for the very first time," I said.

  "You picked a dangerous spot," Sachiko replied. "You're lucky you survived that."

  "Yes, I was," I murmured.

  Before long, Sachiko led us to a shabby, dilapidated row of houses, and my uneasiness grew. I was positive that I recognized one of the houses, and I had no desire to see the owner of that house ever again.

  But Sachiko stopped the wheelbarrow just a few houses short of the one I feared, and I felt myself breathing just a little easier.

  As I glanced around, alert for any sign of movement on the dingy street, I noticed that the village no longer had its usual subdued silver glow. Instead, the sky was tinged with a pale amber color, and a soft, golden light began to suffuse the shabby streets.

  "What's that light?" I asked.

  Sachiko glanced around. "Oh, that. That's dawn. We can't keep the sunlight out completely, but the charm on the village does its best to filter it out as much as possible. The sunlight doesn't hurt us, but it's kind of overwhelming, and it makes us very tired. It's just too much light for our senses."

  Sachiko looked resolutely down the street. "Okay. That's enough stalling. This isn't going to be pleasant, but we'd better get this over with."

  She pushed the wheelbarrow a little further down the street and then stopped in front of the house that I was least anxious to visit.

  "We aren't going in there, are we?" I asked.

  "We are if she'll let us in." Sachiko walked up to the door and knocked.

  A moment later, the door opened, and a fragile-looking young girl with a halo of golden curls looked out warily. The wide, innocent eyes settled on Sachiko, and then the girl walked nimbly out onto the step. Her feet, as I remembered, were bare, and she had a soft, breathy voice.

  "A repeat customer! How marvelous. If I am not mistaken, it is the charming Sachiko."

  The wide, innocent eyes shifted to William next, and then settled on me.

  The girl's lips curved into a smile.

  "Well, hello, kitten."

  Chapter 26.

  I stood frozen for a moment, staring at the slender, angelic figure before me.

  Then I found my voice. "Hello, Veronika."

  Sachiko turned to me in surprise. "You two know each other?"

  "We met once," I said.

  Sachiko turned quickly back to Veronika. "So you know who she is?"

  "I know who she's supposed to be."

  "Look, Veronika," Sachiko said. "I know everyone thinks Katie's the ghost girl, but you don't have anything to be afraid of."

  Veronika smiled. "I know I don't."

  Her eyes fell on the stake in Sachiko's hand. "Is that to protect her from me?"

  Sachiko glanced down. "This? No—it's just something we picked up. I thought it would be better to take it with us rather than just leave it lying around where anyone could get to it."

  "Very wise," Veronika said. "So what brings the two of you here to see me today?"

  "I'm here to get your help," I said in as steady a voice as I could muster. "The one I love is sick—even dying. I need you to heal him. I'll pay whatever price you ask."

  Veronika smiled again. "Will you, indeed? I wonder."

  She glanced over at the pale figure in the wheelbarrow. "So it's your sweet William, is it? It would seem that the rumors of the prisoner up at the castle were true."

  Veronika stepped nimbly out into the street in her bare feet and walked over to the wheelbarrow. She stood for a long moment in the pale golden light, staring down at William.

  "So what's it going to be, Veronika?" Sachiko said impatiently. "Are you going to help us? Or are we going to stand out here all day?"

  Veronika continued to stare down at William. Then she suddenly turned toward her house. "You may come inside."

  I glanced once more around the golden street, and then I moved to help Sachiko lift William out of the wheelbarrow.

  "I'm sorry about this," Sachiko whispered to me. "If there were any other way to help him, I would have taken it. Veronika really is our only hope."

  We carried William into the house, and Veronika directed us toward a shabby sofa. It was dark in the room, after the golden glow from outside, and I had a vague impression that we were surrounded by faded lace and lots of crystal.

  Sachiko and I laid William carefully on the sofa, and I leaned over to brush his hair away from his eyes.

  I looked up to find Veronika staring at me.

  "So sweet," she murmured.

  I was reluctant to leave William's side, but I figured I was in the way. I got up and moved to stand next to Sachiko.

  Veronika gave me a long speculative look and then sat down next to William.

  She stared at him for a long time, and her expression grew troubled as she looked him over. Then she began to sing softly—so softly at first that I could barely hear it. As she sang, the room began to grow darker, and I felt the temperature dropping. Soon the crystals in the room began to rattle, and I glanced around, alarmed—I could actually see the crystals vibrating where they lay on tables and shelves around the room.

  I looked over at Sachiko then, but she didn't appear to have noticed the disturbance in the room. She was staring at William and Ver
onika, and her smooth brow was creased with worry.

  The rattling in the room continued, and Veronika placed her hand over William's closed eyes. Then she closed her own.

  Suddenly, the rattling of the crystals increased, and I was startled to feel a cold wind kick up in the room and swirl around us. At the same time, Veronika began to sing louder, and with her eyes still closed, she moved her hands and placed them over William's heart. The wind then caught Veronika's hair and whipped it up so that it stood like a golden cloud around her head.

  A dark shadow stole into the room then, tiny and shifting but somehow cohesive, and it hovered for just a moment in front of Veronika. Then the shadow vanished abruptly, and the wind and the rattling disappeared along with it. Veronika's voice fell silent.

  The room suddenly grew brighter, and I glanced around. Everything was as still as if nothing had happened at all.

  "Well?" Sachiko said.

  Veronika's face was pale and drawn, and all traces of mockery had drained out of her expression.

  "You should have come to me sooner," she said.

  "Can you heal him?" Sachiko asked.

  "Perhaps," Veronika said slowly. "The situation is complex. William, as you no doubt know, began life as one of the Sìdh. Then he was attacked by a vampire, and an imperfect transformation was effected—William's body tried to reject the vampire venom but could not do so entirely. However, balance was eventually achieved, and William was able to continue to function with traits of both 'species.' Now—after this second vampire attack—William's system has been greatly compromised. His body attempted to fight off the vampire venom for a second time and failed. The venom has overwhelmed him, and he should have become a true vampire at last. But William is not human—his basic biology is not compatible with that of a vampire. All vampires began life as humans, after all—there is no other way to achieve the vampire state. As a result, William will die by nightfall."

  "No!" I shouted. "No! You have to be wrong. William can't die."

  A hint of Veronika's former amusement returned to her eyes. "You didn't let me finish. William will die by nightfall unless the new vampire blood is removed from his system. And even then he will be left very weak. He may not survive the ritual that must be performed. Had you brought him to me even twenty-four hours earlier, it would have been better. As it is, not much of his life force remains. He is like a candle—the softest breeze could extinguish his light."