"Katie, don't talk that way." Charisse said sharply.
"What way?"
"Like you're saying goodbye."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
I tried to make my voice sound light. "I am saying goodbye. I'm leaving tonight."
"That's not what I meant. Promise me you'll come back here. Promise me I'll see you again."
"Charisse, of course—"
"Promise me. And don't say you'll try."
"I promise," I said.
The warning bell rang, and Charisse sighed.
"Sorry I'm acting so crazy," she said. "It's just—I have a bad feeling about this trip of yours." She stood up, then shook her head. "But it's probably nothing. You know what—just forget what I said. I'm sure you'll be fine. I hope you have a good time."
She gave me a wan smile. "I guess we'd better get to homeroom."
As Charisse and I went our separate ways, I wondered if I would be able to keep my promise to her.
In second-period English, Branden came up to me and wrapped me up in an all-encompassing hug.
"I heard you're going back to the crazy town where the crazy dude tried to kill you," he said from somewhere over my head.
He stepped back and pressed a compact red object into my hand.
"It's a Swiss Army knife," he said as I looked down at it. "Take it with you. If you run into another crazy dude, just give him a good stabbing. You can't take it in your carry-on, but you can take it in your checked luggage."
"Thanks, Branden."
"Remember, a good stabbing."
"I'll remember."
Charisse walked over and wrapped both her arms around Branden. "He insisted on giving that to you as soon as I told him about your trip."
"It's very thoughtful," I said. "With any luck, I won't need to use it."
"Does Simon know you're going yet?" Charisse asked.
"No," I said.
"No? Katie, I would have thought that Simon would be the first person you'd tell."
"Why? I told you first, Charisse. Like I said, you're my best friend."
"You're my best friend, too, but I would have told Branden first."
"Charisse, Simon and I aren't dating."
"Yes, Katie, but Simon—"
She stopped.
I sighed inwardly. I knew all about how Simon felt. He meant a lot to me, but I just couldn't feel for him what he felt for me.
I was saved from further conversation by the entrance of Mrs. Swinburne.
But later in the day, as I was walking into the cafeteria, Simon drew me aside.
"Do you mind if we have lunch alone—just the two of us?" he asked. "I already talked to Charisse and Branden about it. They don't mind."
"Uh, sure," I said. "Does this mean that they told you?"
Simon blinked at me. "Told me what?"
"I guess that's a no."
Simon smiled. "So, you have something to tell me then? Well, I have something to tell you. This should be fun."
I wasn't so sure about that.
The two of us went through the line together, and then we sat down at one of the smaller round tables.
As I bit into my pizza, Simon looked at me eagerly.
"Do you mind if I go first?"
"Sure. Go ahead," I replied.
"Okay. So, Christmas Eve. I'm sure you and your grandmother have your own traditions and everything, but my family and I would be delighted if the two of you would join us at our house for dinner. James is having Eva over—do you remember how he got to meet her at Bryony's party? Well, he invited her over, and she said she could go. And I would just really love it if you could be there, too. What do you say?"
"I—oh—"
I stopped. I felt a familiar sinking sensation. It was a feeling that came to me more and more often when I was talking to Simon these days. Why did our friendship have to be complicated?
"Simon, this kind of leads into what I have to tell you."
"What is it?"
"GM and I aren't going to be here for Christmas Eve."
"Where are you going to be?"
"We're going to Russia."
Simon looked stricken. "What?"
"We're leaving tonight."
"You're—"
Simon stopped and took a deep breath.
"You're leaving tonight for Russia, and you never said a word about it until now? Did you just find out today?"
"No," I said simply.
There wasn't really anything else I could say. I couldn't begin to explain to Simon what was going on. I had tried to tell him before about the strange turn my life had taken.
He hadn't believed me.
I glanced at him now. His jaw was working in a familiar angry way.
"I'm sorry, Simon. I'm sorry I can't have dinner with you and your family. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner that I was going to be leaving for Russia."
"Where in Russia are you going?" he asked in a low voice.
"We're going to Moscow first, and then to Krov."
"Is Krov where you were—"
He broke off and looked away.
"Yes. That's where I was kidnapped by the guy who was pretending to be a substitute teacher here."
"Why is your grandmother allowing this?"
"GM wants to go—she's the one who first suggested it. She's really excited about it."
"Katie, it can't possibly be safe."
I felt myself bristling, despite the fact that I understood the dangers of the trip far better than Simon did.
"Why shouldn't it be safe?" I asked. "Timofei Mstislav is dead—buried in his family's crypt. And Krov isn't entirely peopled with criminals."
Simon brushed a hand over his hair. "I know that. That's not what I meant. It's just—I would think there would be some bad memories associated with the place—for both of you."
I paused. I had known Simon for as long as I had known Charisse, and my affection for him ran deep. I was struck once again by the terrible feeling that this might be the last time I would ever see one of my closest friends. This time I could feel tears stinging my eyes.
"There are bad memories," I said quietly. "And I'm not as excited about going on this trip as I once was. But it means a lot to GM. Simon, let's say goodbye on good terms."
"Goodbye?" Simon reacted with horror, much as Charisse had done. "You're saying goodbye? You're talking like you're not coming back."
I backtracked quickly. "I just mean goodbye for now. I want us both to be happy when we go on winter break. We are friends, right?"
"Katie, we're more than friends. I wish you could see that."
An uncomfortable pause ensued, and I turned back to my pizza.
"Of course we're friends," Simon said dully after a moment. "If that's what you want. I thought since I hadn't seen what's-his-name around lately that maybe you had changed your mind."
Simon looked so forlorn that I had a sudden urge to hug him. I pushed the urge away and tried to think of something soothing to say.
Nothing came to me.
Mercifully, our conversation soon turned to small talk—incidentals about my trip and about his plans with his family. At the end of lunch, Simon smiled at me and wished me a good trip, but I could see that he was miserable.
As he walked away with his backpack slung over one shoulder, I could see him hunch his shoulders and bow his head, shoving his free hand into his jeans' pocket.
Simon's feelings for me were obviously very strong. He was good and smart and dependable—he would risk a lot for me. And he would never disappear without saying a word.
He would never abandon me.
For just a moment, I wished that I could be in love with Simon.
Chapter 14.
When the final bell of the day rang, I couldn't help but feel relieved.
I rushed to my locker, and then hurried through the halls. I knew that if I lingered, there was a chance I might run into Charisse or Simon, and I couldn't say goodbye to them again—it wo
uld be too hard.
As I moved quickly toward the exit, however, I happened to find myself walking alongside Bryony.
I was glad that I would get a chance to say goodbye to her too.
I wondered then why I was feeling so fatalistic. I had a definite feeling that this could be the last time I would ever speak to Bryony. But there was no real reason why I should feel that way. The trip would be difficult, but I could get through it, couldn't I?
"Hey, Katie," Bryony said.
"Hi," I said.
"I hope you have a good winter break," Bryony said.
"Thanks, you too."
"Are you going away for Christmas?" she asked. "Or are you staying here?"
"I'm going away. Actually, my grandmother and I are going to Russia. How about you?"
"We're staying here. My whole family lives around here, so we very seldom go anywhere for the holidays. Sometimes I wish we could go somewhere else."
Bryony paused, and she seemed to have something on her mind other than winter break. After a moment, she spoke again in a lower voice.
"I talked to my grandmother about the ghost's message like I said I would. My grandmother has tried to contact the ghost to get more information, but unfortunately, she's been unsuccessful."
Bryony looked at me sheepishly. "It's not really that unusual that she hasn't heard from the ghost again—she very seldom sees or hears it at all."
"I guess ghosts are elusive by nature," I said. "Thanks for trying."
"My grandmother did say not to forget about the warning. It's really hard for the ghost to communicate. The fact that it did so means it's a matter of life and—"
Bryony stopped abruptly. "Sorry. That sounds terrible. I'm sure you can look out for yourself. And maybe you'll be safe from the singing once you're in Russia."
Bryony stopped again. "You know, I probably shouldn't have brought this up at all. I'm sure you don't want to hear any of this crazy supernatural stuff before you go on break."
"It's okay," I said. "I'm glad you asked your grandmother—even if she didn't find out anything else. I appreciate it. I really do."
"I'm glad I didn't freak you out," Bryony said with a shy smile. "Have a good trip. And a good Christmas."
"Thanks. You too."
We were outside the school fence, and Bryony turned toward a waiting car.
I hurried home.
GM was waiting for me, and she spun me around as I walked through the door.
"Can you believe it, Katie? The day has finally arrived. We are almost on our way. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Will that be too early?"
"No, that's not too early."
"Put your books away, rest, relax. There will be nothing but happiness for us from now on."
I went up to my room, kicked off my shoes, and lay down on my bed. My luggage was all downstairs, and GM had taken care of everything else. Some vague instinct told me that I should try to get some sleep.
Sleep eluded me, however, and GM soon called me for dinner.
We had lasagna, which was one of my favorites. And despite the fact that she hated raisins and disapproved of sweets, GM had made raisin bread, another one of my favorites, for dessert.
After dinner, we began to take our luggage out to the car.
Taking out the luggage was going to require at least two trips, and after the first one, I stopped by the car and looked around, suddenly wary.
It occurred to me that Anton might put in an appearance at the last minute and try to stop us from going.
But GM and I managed to get all of the luggage out of the house and into the car without incident. I wondered where Anton was, though, and if he had been watching us. If so, was he really keeping all would-be attackers away from me?
It was strange to be both afraid that Anton was watching me and afraid that he might not be.
After GM and I had filled up both the trunk and the back seat of her little car with our luggage, we got in ourselves.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I glanced back at the house. I loved my home.
I wondered if this would be the last time I would ever see it.
I told myself once again not to be so fatalistic.
GM drove on with her usual expert speed, and I watched the scenery flying by as time passed, and the light slowly faded. GM did not play music as she had on our previous trip to the airport. On that other, terrifying trip, GM had played Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition, a favorite of my mother's, to give me a measure of comfort.
Such a thing wasn't necessary this time around.
Eventually the day gave way completely to night, and we continued on through the dark. I lost track of time—possibly I dozed a little—but I grew alert when the airport materialized in front of us, large and luminous in the night.
GM found long-term parking, and then we took a shuttle to our terminal. As we checked our luggage and went to our gate, I was surprised to see how many people were flying to Moscow with us. I stood, surveying the crowd. People sat talking, reading, and tapping away on cell phones. Everything seemed very normal.
Even so, I started to feel nervous.
I was at a point at which it was still possible for me to turn back. I could run from the airport—run back to the car, and GM would be forced to follow.
Neither one of us would go on the trip then, and I would never have to find out what waited for me in Krov.
But I knew that I wouldn't leave.
I would wait quietly for the plane, and when the time came, I would board it.
I was going to Russia now, no matter what. I felt as if I were being pulled along inevitably by an invisible cord.
I wondered for a moment if this trip was truly a choice I had made, or if it were something that would have happened no matter how hard I'd tried to avoid it.
GM pulled on my sleeve, and my reverie was broken. She'd been surveying the crowd too, and she'd just spotted two empty seats next to each other.
We sat down, and GM looked around the waiting area with sparkling eyes.
"Well, here we are," she said. "From now on all we have to do is sit back and let others get on with their work. We can truly relax now."
She glanced over at me. "Dinner was some time ago. Are you hungry, Solnyshko?”
I could feel my stomach tying itself into knots. "No thanks, GM. I don't think I could eat anything right now."
GM beamed at me. "Neither could I—I am far too exited."
I had brought a book to read, but I found myself unable to focus on the words. My mind was suddenly full of images that I had tried to bury forever—images of underground tunnels in Krov where I had been trapped. Images of a man named Gleb Mstislav, whose lifeless body had been resurrected. Images of Timofei Mstislav, who had freed his cursed father so that he could kill me.
I jumped up from my seat suddenly, unnerved by my own memories. I walked to the huge windows nearby that looked out on the runway. There I watched the planes take off and land while I fought to banish the nightmares from my mind.
At long last, boarding for our plan was announced, and GM positively glowed as we walked down the narrow tunnel into the body of the plane and found our seats.
"So very different," GM murmured as she settled in, "such a very different experience from last time."
I looked over at GM. She was right about that. There was none of the urgency, none of the terror. And yet I felt uneasy, and my uneasiness was steadily growing.
Had I made a terrible mistake? And had I dragged GM right into the middle of it along with me?
For her part GM seemed completely happy—she saw only a good trip ahead of her. I hoped she was right.
"We should speak in Russian from now on," GM said to me in that language. "I am very glad that you kept your Russian up. But then, you are very smart girl, and I am sure that it is easy for you."
I couldn't help but smile at this little speech of GM's. And I told myself to reign in my feelings of panic and to focus on being nor
mal. I told myself further that if I stayed alert, GM and I could both survive this trip.
"Russian it is," I said.
GM searched in her purse then and produced a small, slim object which she pressed into my hand. "This is for you. I have one too. I bought us cell phones that will work in Europe. This way we won't be stuck by the side of the road again without a working phone. How lucky we were last time that Aleksandr and Odette happened to be driving by."
I thought back to our rescue by Aleksandr and Odette—it was yet another instance in which I would never be able to explain to GM what had truly happened. The whole incident had not come about by luck—it had been engineered.
Aleksandr was not who he'd seemed to be.
To all appearances, Aleksandr was the son of my mother's childhood friend Galina. He was, in fact, the Leshi—a Russian spirit of the forest who was impersonating the kidnapped Aleksandr in an attempt to help combat Gleb Mstislav. The Leshi had actually caused the flat tire that had marooned us, and then he had doubled back to pick us up.
So Aleksandr had most definitely not been what he'd seemed to be.
And Odette had not been who she'd seemed to be, either.
GM continued, unaware of my abstraction.
"We will be staying in a very nice hotel in Moscow," she said. "I think you will really enjoy seeing the capital. It is a beautiful city. A city of dreams."
"GM, when we get to Krov, will we see Galina and Aleksandr?" I asked, my mind still lingering on the Leshi.
A slight look of strain tightened GM's eyes, and I wondered if she'd say no. GM's relationship with her daughter's friend had not been a positive one for many years, but by the time we had left Krov in October, it had begun to thaw, and I knew that GM had been in contact with Galina since then.
Despite the thaw, was GM still wary of her?
Perhaps it was one thing to be friendly with Galina when we were at a safe distance from her in the U.S. In GM's mind, it might be an entirely different matter once we were actually back in Krov.
GM remained silent for several minutes, and I realized that even if she said no, I would still go to see Galina and the now-restored Aleksandr on my own. I would also seek out the Leshi in the Pure Woods. Looking for William was out of the question now, but I could at least try to find out who had placed a price on my head—and maybe I could find out how many vampires were actually after me. And I would avoid Innokenti at all costs.
Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series) Page 20
