Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series) (16 page)

           
I felt a chill run through my body—a chill that ran so deep it seemed to freeze my heart.

           
An accident was a terrible thing.

           
But a murder was even worse.

           
GM caught sight of my face.
 
"I see I have upset you, Solnyshko.
 
This is exactly why I do not like to talk of the past.
 
Perhaps it is best if we end this conversation."

           
I felt suddenly as if an important opportunity were about to slip away—that as painful as the topic was, I had to keep GM talking or I would lose the chance to find out something very important.

           
I felt frozen, though.
 
I couldn't think of anything to say that would keep GM talking.

           
As I continued to struggle, GM ran a hand over my hair.

           
"I am sorry about what I said, Solnyshko.
 
I should not have said those things about your father's death.
 
It was tragic, but I'm sure it was nothing it shouldn't have been."

           
I pushed myself to speak.
 
"No—no—you should say what you think.
 
I don't want you to keep things from me—even if they're painful."

           
GM shook her head.
 
"I spoke out of turn.
 
And speculation about your father's death will change nothing—he is gone regardless.
 
All this discussion will do is hurt you.
 
I will say nothing more about it."

           
I tried to think of a way to counter that—to come up with the argument that would change GM's mind and keep her talking, but I could tell from her expression that the topic was closed.

           
"Your parents were good people," GM said softly.
 
"Dreamy, yes, but good.
 
I did not mean to say anything that would tarnish their memory."

           
She smiled sadly.
 
"It must be hard for you—very hard.
 
You barely knew your parents.
 
I am sorry about that, Solnyshko."

           
GM brushed a hand over my hair once more, and then she left the room.

           
I had let the moment slip away.

Chapter 6.

The next morning, I was up before my alarm went off.

           
William had promised to meet me at school, and as far as I was concerned, I couldn't see him soon enough.

           
I'd told him I still had questions for him, but that wasn't really the case.
 
I just wanted to see him, to be reassured by his presence.
 
And I needed that more now than I had last night when he'd left.
 
GM's revelation that my father's death might not have been an accident had left me feeling shaken, and I had passed the night in broken dreams.

           
I needed to see William.

           
As I quickly got ready for school, I was startled to see a tiny pile of ash on my dresser, just in front of my mirror.

           
I bent close to it, and even dipped an experimental finger into it, but I couldn't figure out where the ash had come from.
 
I swept it into a trashcan, and then hurried downstairs.

           
GM, as usual, had no interest in discussing anything that had happened last night, and I hurried through breakfast.

           
I left the house as quickly as I could.

           
The morning was clear and cold, and as I walked, I could see that many of my neighbors had already put their Christmas decorations up.
 
The bright colors, however, did little to lift my spirits.

           
Despite the warm coat that I wore, I was cold, as if the late fall air had worked its way under my skin and chilled me from the inside out.

           
I reached the schoolyard and noticed that just one hardy soul was braving the cold out in the open air.

           
Branden was standing alone by the picnic table he and Charisse had staked out, and he looked up expectantly as I approached.

           
When he saw who it was, his face fell.

           
"Oh, hi, Katie," he said.

           
"Hi, Branden," I replied.
 
"You don't look very happy to see me."

           
"Sorry," he said.
 
"I thought you might be Charisse.
 
She said she was going to get here early today, so that we could talk about what we're going to do for winter break.
 
She isn't usually late when she says she'll be early.
 
And she hasn't called me or sent me a text or anything to let me know where she is."

           
He gave me a sudden hopeful look.
 
"She hasn't sent you a text, has she?"

           
I pulled out my phone just to double check.
 
"No."
 
I looked back up at him.
 
"Maybe she's inside."

           
Branden shook his head.
 
"She said to meet out here—she wouldn't forget.
 
And she always calls me when she's going to be out sick."

           
He glanced around the schoolyard anxiously, and then looked back at me.
 
"Charisse told me she was going to meet up with you yesterday after school.
 
How did she seem then?
 
Was she okay?"

           
I thought back to the look on Charisse's face as she had driven away yesterday—she had clearly been angry.
 
She'd been very upset, both with me and with her situation at home.
 
I wondered for a moment if she could have run off—Charisse, I knew, could be impulsive.

           
I glanced at Branden.
 
No matter how angry Charisse might be with her mother or with me, I knew she wouldn't take off without telling Branden—if anything, the two of them were likely to run off together.

           
"Charisse was pretty angry with me," I admitted.
 
"She wanted me to see the guy her mom is dating."

           
Branden looked at me sharply.
 
"Did you see him?"

           
"Yes," I said.
 
"We did see him.
 
Charisse was acting a little weird, actually.
 
She got me to help her spy on him through the kitchen window.
 
Then he came out and talked to us."

           
Branden made a face.
 
"That Joshua guy's a creep."

           
"I don't know," I said.
 
"He didn't seem so bad."

           
"He's a creep," Branden said firmly.

           
"That's what Charisse thinks, too.
 
We ran off after Joshua came out to talk to us, and Charisse was furious that I didn't quite feel the same way about Joshua that she did."

           
"But that's all that happened," Branden asked anxiously.
 
"Nothing else happened with the creepy guy?"

           
"No—Charisse just drove me home."

           
Branden looked relieved.
 
"The guy was probably gone then, when she got back.
 
He doesn't stick around much when she's home."

           
"So, you don't like Joshua, either?" I asked.

           
"I think I've made my feelings pretty clear," Branden replied.
 
"I believe I've used the word 'creepy' quite a few times."

           
"Creepy, you say?"
 
Another voice broke in on our conversation.
 
I turned to see Simon standing behind us.

           
He turned to me.
 
"I assume you're talking about your dinner with what's-his-name last night?"

           
"You know his name is William," I said to Simon.
 
"And dinner went pretty well."

           
Branden shook his head.
 
"I don't know, Katie.
 
I don't like William, either.
 
He's not quite as bad as Joshua, but I'd say he's the same type."

           
I turned on Branden.
 
"Why?
 
What has William done to you?
 
What has Joshua done to you for that matter?"

           
"Joshua has freaked out Charisse pretty badly," Branden said.
 
"That's a big deal to me.
 
And William gives Charisse, Simon here, and me all a bad feeling.
 
We can't all be wrong."

           
"Well, you are all wrong," I said.
 
"And having a bad feeling isn't enough to condemn someone."

           
Branden shrugged.
 
"All I can tell you is what I think."

           
Simon reached for my arm.
 
"Let's go inside, Katie.
 
We can talk there."

           
"I'll stay out here," Branden said.

           
"We'll tell Charisse you're out here if we see her," I said as Simon steered me toward the school.

           
"She's not in the cafeteria," Branden called after us.

           
Simon and I went inside and headed toward the cafeteria.
 
I noticed that Simon was looking pretty grim.
 
I had a feeling we were in for a difficult conversation.

           
We reached the cafeteria and stood in the doorway, as Simon surveyed the room.
 
Most people were concentrated on the side of the cafeteria that was closest to the kitchen, leaving the other side largely empty.
 
Simon led me to a round table on the less-crowded side, and we sat down.

           
There was no one near us, but I couldn't help but notice that Irina, who was sitting on the crowded side of the cafeteria with her friend Bryony, was watching us intently.
 
Even from across the room, I could see anger in her dark eyes.

           
I looked around for Charisse.
 
Branden was right—she wasn't in the cafeteria.

           
"So, this dinner last night," Simon began.

           
I turned back toward Simon, but I didn't quite look at him.
 
Instead, I focused my attention on his backpack, which sat on the table by his elbow.
 
I wasn't really in the mood for an interrogation this early in the morning—especially not when the person I really wanted to see was William.

           
"What really happened?" Simon asked.

           
I did look at him then.

           
I was struck by the realization that a few short months ago, Simon had been the person I had most wanted to see.
 
I had always found his presence to be soothing.

           
Now, we were still friends, but Simon's presence could sometimes be exhausting.
 
The person who really gave me a sense of peace was William—even when he didn't say anything—even when things were bad.
 
And William did all of that just by being near me.

           
Simon leaned forward.
 
"Katie, you aren't listening.
 
I've asked you the same question about three times now."

           
I shook my head.
 
"I'm sorry.
 
What did you say?"

           
Simon gave me a searching look.
 
"I'm trying to get you to tell me what really happened at that dinner last night.
 
Why are you avoiding my questions?"

           
"The dinner went well," I said simply.

           
I could hardly tell him that GM didn't entirely trust William, in large part because he reminded her of my father.
 
Nor could I tell him that she believed my father had been chasing imaginary monsters and had gotten himself killed as a result.
 
I had tried to confide in Simon about supernatural things before—and to his credit he had tried to be open-minded.
 
But ultimately, Simon couldn't believe in the things I had seen and experienced, and he could never understand who William was or why I had such trust in him.