Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series) (35 page)

           
I felt a little stab of regret as I looked at the concerned faces ranged around the table.

           
Truthfully, I had been angry with them, and I knew it.
 
I still resented the fact that they would be happy if they found out that William had left me.
 
I'd told myself before that my friends were not responsible for what William had done.
 
But the resentment had remained.

           
I really did need to study, but it was also a way to escape from them—and from thoughts of William.

           
Ultimately, though, they were my friends.

           
I would try to stop blaming them for a situation they couldn't help.

           
"You're right," I said.
 
"I'm sorry.
 
I guess I've been trapped in my own head lately."

           
"I understand that you may need to study," Simon said, "but too much studying can be a bad thing too.
 
You should at least take a break when you're eating."

           
Branden reached over and shut my textbook.
 
"Time to relax.
 
A little.
 
It's not like we get nearly enough time for lunch anyway."

           
"Promise me you'll have lunch with us like you usually do," Charisse said.
 
"You can at least give us that."

           
"I promise," I said.

           
And I did make an attempt to be sociable, but I found that my thoughts kept drifting to my trip to Russia.

           
I wanted—needed—to get back to studying—if only to keep myself sane.

           
Mercifully, lunch ended at last, and I picked up my books, relieved to be free to lose myself in them once again.
 
I felt bad about avoiding my friends—I really did—but I could never explain to them what was worrying me.
 
I couldn't tell them that danger stalked me in the night—they'd never believe that.
 
And I certainly couldn't tell them that I was planning to search for William.

           
As I went out into the hallway, I felt a soft tug on my sleeve.
 
I turned to see Bryony walking beside me.

           
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" she said quietly.
 
"I wanted to ask you something—without the others around."

           
"Yes, of course," I said.

           
Bryony and I drew apart from the crowd.

           
She looked around, hesitating.
 
"I was wondering how you—how you've been doing—with the ghost's message and everything.
 
I know it's weird for me to keep bringing it up."

           
I was quick to reassure her.
 
"It's okay.
 
I didn't mind the message.
 
Really."

           
"Did anything—"

           
She looked around again and lowered her voice.
 
"Did anything happen?
 
Did you hear the singing she warned about?"

           
I realized that I didn't know how to answer her.
 
Had I heard singing?
 
I'd felt a strange, enchanting softness in the night air and an intense longing to draw nearer to it.
 
And I'd felt that feeling again when I'd seen the strange man encased in ice emerging from the cave.

           
Had he been singing to me?
 
I'd wondered that before.

           
"Honestly, Bryony, I'm not entirely sure.
 
But I did see something—or actually, someone strange.
 
It was actually on the day you had your birthday party."

           
Bryony's eyes widened in alarm.
 
"What happened?"

           
"That day I saw a man with closed eyes who was entirely covered in ice.
 
He came out of the cave in the Old Grove, and I felt the strangest feeling—I felt like he was drawing me to him."

           
No sooner had I finished speaking, than I began to feel foolish.
 
Bryony would think I had imagined the whole thing.

           
I didn't know why I had said anything at all about it.

           
But Bryony didn't laugh or look shocked—she just looked more concerned.
 
"Did you recognize the man?"

           
"No, I didn't," I said.
 
"Have you heard of something like this happening before?"

           
"No."

           
I began to feel foolish again.
 
"It was probably nothing.
 
I can't be sure what I saw."

           
"No, I believe you," Bryony said.
 
"I know you're level-headed and you're smart.
 
I don't think you're making anything up.
 
Besides, I've learned that when the ghost sends a message it's important to pay attention to everything that happens—no matter how bizarre those things are."

           
"I'm glad you don't think I'm crazy."

           
"No," she said simply, and then looked away in thought.
 
I realized now why I had spoken so easily about the strange man—why I had told Bryony something I would never tell any of my other friends.
 
There was something deeply calm about Bryony—it was really a unique quality.

           
"Katie," Bryony said after a moment, "if you don't mind, I'm going to tell my grandmother about what you saw.
 
Maybe she can find out something further from the ghost.
 
But doing so is a little tricky."

           
"Yes, sure.
 
Go ahead.
 
I need all the help I can get at this point."

           
"I'll go over to her house tonight, then.
 
Hang in there, Katie.
 
And try to ignore any more strange feelings or 'singing' if you hear it.
 
I'm sure it can't be good for you."

           
Bryony moved off again into the crowd, and I went on to class.

           
It seemed to me that my conversation with Bryony should have left me feeling more worried—she
had
said she was going to consult a ghost about me—but I actually felt a little relieved.
 
It was good to speak to someone who would actually listen.

           
I thought then of Galina—someone else who had listened to me.
 
I wondered if I would get to see her once we reached Krov.
 
I was under the impression that GM's attitude toward her had thawed—and it occurred to me that she might know something about the people who were after me.

           
And she might even know where I could find William.

           
I spent the rest of the day absorbed in my schoolwork as much as possible.
 
Any spare moments I had I spent reading or going over my notes.
 
I resolved to spend the rest of the night studying and working, and I realized I was looking forward to being current with my schoolwork again.
 
When the final bell rang, I jumped up from my seat and hurried to my locker.
 
I didn't want to run into anyone I'd have to talk to.

           
A light snow had just begun to fall as I exited the schoolyard, and I paused just outside the fence to watch it fall.
 
I held out my palm and let a few flakes settle there.
 
The snow was cool and damp against my skin, and I watched as it dissolved, soaking in.

           
I'd always liked snow and the peaceful atmosphere that came with it.
 
Snow seemed to make the whole world quieter.
 
As I continued to watch it fall, I felt my own internal turmoil subside.
 
I walked home slowly, enjoying the snow, allowing the stillness of it to soak into my skin like the snowflakes had.

           
When I reached home, I noticed that GM's red sports car was missing from the driveway.
 
So her errands had kept her out late, just as she had anticipated.

           
I let myself into the house and went to the kitchen.
 
I set my backpack down and got myself an apple and a glass of milk.

           
I was seldom in the house alone, and the solitude was something of a relief—I didn't have to pretend anything for anyone at the moment.
 
I could be completely myself.

           
I ate leisurely, and then just sat for a moment, listening to the quiet, occasional creaking of the house.
 
But as much as I enjoyed the peace, I knew I had homework to do.
 
With a certain degree of reluctance, I got up.

           
As I rinsed out my glass, I thought I heard a sound in the hall.
 
I turned to look, but no one was there.
 
I realized I must have just heard the house give an unusually loud creak.
 
I'd heard enough of those in the night to know it meant nothing.

           
I finished clearing up, and as I picked up my backpack, I thought I heard another sound.
 
This time it seemed to be coming from the living room.

           
"GM, is that you?"

           
Maybe I'd just been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't heard her come in.

           
I walked into the living room.

           
Anton was standing by the table, picking up picture frames and examining my family photos.

           
I realized with horror that I was seeing my brief vision from weeks ago come to life.

           
I felt my backpack slide off my shoulder.

           
Anton turned to look at me.

           
"Hello, Sunshine."

           
I felt a strong desire to run, and I decided to indulge it.

           
But Anton quickly moved to block my way, forcing me to stumble backward.
 
I tripped over my backpack and fell to the floor.

           
Anton was soon beside me, reaching out a hand.

           
I shied away from his hand and found my feet again.

           
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
 
My voice sounded high and frightened.

           
"I was trying to help you up."

           
I backed away from him.
 
"I meant what are you doing in my house?"

           
"I came to see you."
 
He waved a hand toward the photos.
 
"Nice pictures."

           
"You have to leave," I said.

           
"No, I don't."
 
He smiled.

           
"My grandmother will be home soon."

           
"She won't be home soon enough."
 
Anton sat on the couch.
 
"Let's have a little talk."

           
He patted the cushion next to him.

           
I ran into the kitchen, hoping to reach the back door, but Anton blocked my way before I reached it.

           
I turned, trying to get away from him, but no matter how I moved, he remained in front of me, blocking my escape.

           
I stood still.

           
"What do you want?"
 
I tried to keep my voice from shaking.

           
"I told you, I want to talk."

           
"What would we talk about?
 
You tried to kill me."

           
"I did
not
try to kill you.
 
I was just trying to kidnap you.
 
Then I was going to turn you over to some other people—who probably
would
have killed you.
 
But I wasn't going to do it myself."

           
"That's not really any better," I said.