Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series)

by Mesick, Catherine

  A wave of fear washed over me—such a story might sound like nothing more than local superstition to most people.

  But I knew that such things could actually happen.

  "Nonsense," GM said firmly. "Nothing but nonsense."

  Maksim smiled. "You don't believe in witch-fire?"

  "I certainly do not."

  "But we saw it last night," I said. "On our drive in—fires flaring up in the forest."

  "Farmers burning brush," GM said dismissively. "I thought that last night, and I think that now."

  "Yes, I recall that you never had much use for the supernatural," Maksim said. "You dislike it almost as much as you dislike raisins."

  Maksim was rewarded for this recollection by a small smile from GM. But she was warming up her arguments and didn't seem to notice that Maksim was simply teasing her.

  "First of all, why is it called 'witch-fire'?" GM asked belligerently. "That doesn't make any sense—not if the fires are caused by evil spirits."

  "Ah, yes, but it's witches who are summoning the evil spirits," Maksim said. "Witches are instigating the entire operation. Evil spirits can hardly summon themselves."

  "And what of these 'realms of darkness'?" GM said. "Can anyone identify positively where one of these places actually is?"

  "I assume the witches know."

  I thought then of Galina. On my last trip to Krov, I'd heard that some of the villagers called her 'Baba Yaga'—it was the name of a witch from Russian folklore. Was it possible that some of the locals thought she was behind the witch-fires?

  Galina's door had been unlocked—had she been forced to flee her home for her own safety?

  "Have the villagers identified any witches?" I asked, alarmed. "I hope no innocent people have been accused of being witches."

  "That is an excellent point you make, Katie," GM said approvingly. "Superstition can lead to all kinds of bad behavior, including violence. I hope no citizens of Krov have engaged in any rash acts."

  "No, no, of course not," Maksim said, sounding ruffled. "There are whispers, rumors, talk against this person or that one, but there is no persecution here. Krov is not a medieval village. It is a thoroughly modern place. And I am proud of it."

  GM's stern expression softened again. "I am proud of Krov too. That's why I wish the superstition would disappear. There is nothing wrong with folk tales. There is nothing wrong with studying them, honoring them. But there is something wrong with believing them as literal truth."

  "You are wise as ever, Anna."

  GM and Maksim exchanged a long look. At the end of it, GM smiled.

  Krov was certainly a dangerous place in some ways. But at the moment, I was truly glad we had come.

  After lunch was over, Maksim did indeed go with us to select a tree at a small farm. Choosing a tree was an activity that drew an unusual amount of laughter from GM, and she and Maksim spent a lot of time smiling at one another. Eventually, we found a tree, and Maksim and the young man who sold it to us attached the tree to the top of GM's rental car.

  GM, Maksim, and I drove home then, and Maksim helped us get the tree into the house and into a stand that GM discovered in a closet. Maksim declined to stay after that, and GM walked him to the door.

  After he had gone, GM went up to her room and brought down a box of ornaments and decorations. Vague memories of Christmases I had spent in this house stirred in my mind. The Christmas I remembered most clearly was the last one—it was the year that Odette had spent Christmas with us. I remembered that I'd thought she looked just like the angel that had sat at the top of our tree.

  As GM and I got to work on the tree, she explained that when I was a child celebrating Christmas had been my father's idea. Most of the ornaments were actually his.

  I was suddenly hit by a wave of longing—I wished my mother and father—and Odette—could be here as they all had been once.

  But I knew those days were gone for good.

  I looked over at GM—I realized it was likely that the last time she had seen these ornaments, that her daughter had still been alive. I wondered how seeing the ornaments again made her feel, but I knew she didn't like discussing the past—especially not when it was painful.

  So I said nothing about it.

  But part of the past had come back today, and I felt I had a right to discuss that.

  "So, that's who the letters were from," I said. "Maksim. He's why we're really here, isn't he?"

  GM stopped working and gave me a despairing look. I was surprised to see so much raw emotion in her face.

  "Yes. That's why I wanted to come here," GM said quietly. But I also wanted to keep this from you. You should not have met Maksim today."

  "I honestly don't mind if you have a boyfriend, GM. In fact, I think it's wonderful. I was nice to see you looking so happy."

  GM sighed heavily and threw up her hands. "Grandmothers do not have boyfriends. It's just not right."

  "There's nothing wrong with it, GM," I said. "Were you really going to marry him once?"

  "Yes, we were engaged to be married," GM said simply. "Until your grandfather appeared—out of nowhere, it seemed. I fell in love with him so thoroughly that nothing else seemed to matter—and that included Maksim."

  My grandfather, of course, had been one of the Sìdh, though GM had no knowledge of that. I was not surprised that she had been blinded by him. From what I had seen of the Sìdh, they were a pretty dazzling group.

  "Is Maksim related to Irina back home?" I asked. "It sounded like he said his last name was 'Neverov.'"

  "Yes. Maksim is Irina's grandfather."

  "Is that what she meant when she said you tried to ruin her family?"

  The words came out before I could stop them. I realized too late that it was too personal a question to ask. I waited for GM to erupt.

  Instead, she just sighed again.

  "That's the trouble with the past. People's memories get colored and corrupted by later events—and the opinions of others. I'm sure that's part of what Irina meant. But there was nothing untoward about my relationship with Maksim—it was never inappropriate or scandalous. Maksim was from a prominent family, and he had been betrothed at a young age to a girl from another prominent family—that girl was to become Irina's grandmother."

  GM paused and drew herself up. "Of course, we Rosts were more prominent than both of them. But Maksim was never in love with the girl, and when he was old enough to know his own mind, he broke off their engagement. That was before I even met him."

  GM had grown a little heated during this speech, and she paused to draw breath.

  "Maksim was a free man when I met him. And he was a free man when we became engaged to be married, and if your grandfather hadn't appeared when he did—"

  GM broke off suddenly and gave me an apologetic look. "Your grandfather was a good man, and I loved him very much. I don't want you to think I regret marrying him, because I don't. Not for a moment. But I loved Maksim once too."

  She frowned. "It is all so confusing. Emotions can become a terrible tangle. But the end of it is this: I fell in love with your grandfather, I broke off my engagement with Maksim, and I married your grandfather instead. Maksim eventually went back to Irina's grandmother and married her."

  GM gave me a level look. "I would not be surprised if Irina's grandmother remembered things differently, but I can assure you that I am telling you the truth. I try always to keep my mind clear—to look at the facts unclouded by sentiment. Everything about my relationship with Maksim has always been proper and correct."

  GM put her hands on her hips and gave me a defiant stare. Then, as she looked at me, a hint of worry, of fear, crept into her eyes.

  "So, what do you think?" she asked.

  "I think you should have dinner with Maksim," I replied.

  Chapter 17.

  GM did indeed go out to have dinner with Maksim. And once she was gone, I walked back into town to retrieve my bicycle. I had forgotten about it in all the excitement that wa
s attendant on meeting Maksim.

  On my way home, I stopped at the small grocery store that GM, the Leshi, and I had stopped at back in October—it was in the little row of shops near the house. I bought a few things there, and then went home and cooked dinner.

  After dinner I settled down in my room to wait for night. I sat by the window, watching the sky darken and the stars emerge. I would try Galina's house again after GM went to bed, and I would also go back to the Pure Woods to look for the Leshi.

  And if I didn't find Galina or the Leshi, I might find someone else. Vampires and other dark creatures were always more active at night, and since they were after me, I would prefer to meet anything that was stalking me far away from GM. I didn't want anything to happen to her.

  GM came home around eight o'clock. I wanted to ask her if she knew where Galina was, but I was afraid to admit to her that I'd gone looking for Galina without her knowledge. I had a feeling that she would disapprove. I also didn't want GM to think I was keeping track of her and Maksim. So I came down to sit with her for a little while, but I didn't ask too many questions. We sat together and gazed at our newly decorated Christmas tree, and GM looked relaxed and happy. I excused myself early and went back up to my room to wait till GM went to sleep.

  GM surprised me by retiring early—for her—at around eleven. I waited for about an hour to be sure she was asleep. Then I slipped out of the house to go look for Galina and the Leshi.

  The night was cold, but it was no colder than it would have been back in Elspeth's Grove, and I was perfectly comfortable bundled up as I was.

  I rode through town and past the Mstislav mansion, which loomed pale and ghostly in the dark. The floodlights that had lit up the house at night when I'd been in Krov back in October had been removed. Krov as a whole was not well lit at night, and the general gloom only added to the air of unreality that surrounded the mansion. Its outline was dim and indistinct—I had the strangest feeling that the house might waver and vanish right in front of me. But I knew that the house was real enough—I had been inside its walls and had been trapped in its crypt. I knew just how solid it was.

  The darkness beyond the mansion was solid too. I would have to cross the Wasteland to get to Galina's house, and I had nothing with which to light the way.

  I stopped not far from the mansion, and tried to think of where I could get a light at this time of night.

  I knew that all the shops were closed. Krov was not the kind of place that had twenty-four hour stores. I figured that I could go back to the house, but I wasn't entirely sure if we had anything I could use there either. GM had brought flashlights on our first trip in October, but I was pretty sure she hadn't brought them with us this time around. The circumstances of the two trips were very different—the first trip had been panicked, this trip was supposed to be a vacation. And GM's idea of a vacation most definitely did not include wandering around a forest at night with a flashlight.

  I glanced back at the Mstislav mansion. Timofei Mstislav's body had recently been stolen from its crypt, and I knew from personal experience that the crypt locked rather solidly. Whoever had broken in must have done a lot of damage, and if someone was still maintaining the mansion, then the crypt might be under repair. Maybe there would be something lying around that I could use as a light.

  I did not like the idea of going anywhere near that crypt in the dark, but it seemed like my best option, and the night would certainly not get any easier as it went along. I figured I might as well give the crypt a try.

  I rode up the tree-lined drive to the mansion, and then followed the drive around to the back. My memories of the night Odette had led me into the crypt were a little hazy, but I definitely remembered that she had brought me out of a back entrance to get to the crypt.

  I left the bike leaning against the mansion itself, and I squinted into the vast lawn that stretched behind it. There were no lights on at the mansion, but there was a little moonlight, and the whiteness of the sprawling building seemed to reflect what little light there was. I could make out several large shapes out on the back lawn.

  I knew that none of those shapes could be the crypt—the crypt entrance was actually in the ground like a cellar door. But if the crypt were being repaired, the shapes might belong to the workers—I might find what I needed within them.

  I crept forward slowly, lest I stumble into the crypt entrance in the dark. It occurred to me that if the crypt were being worked on, it might have been left open.

  And a fall down the stairs could definitely break my neck.

  I walked up to the smallest and closest of the shapes. Then I took off my gloves and ran my hands along it—it turned out to be a wooden shed. I tried the door, but it was firmly locked.

  I crept toward the next shape until I could touch it—it was another shed, and it was locked too. I crept forward again, and my feet struck something smooth and solid. I crouched down to run my fingers over it—it was a door, lying on its side. I felt a stab of fear run through me as I realized that I had found the crypt—it was indeed open as I had feared. I jumped back quickly.

  As I did so, I stumbled over something solid on the ground and fell on the hard earth. I felt around for what I had tripped over, and my fingers closed around a handle. I was holding a tool that looked something like a pickax. Someone was clearly working to repair the crypt and had left a few things lying around—since the sheds were locked, I would have to go down into the crypt to see if I could find what I needed.

  I got to my feet, and I found that I was shaking. I forced myself forward until I could feel the crypt door again, and using the door as a guide, I crept along until my hands reached out and touched only open air.

  Unpleasant as it was, I had found the entrance to the crypt.

  Before plunging into it, I searched around in front of the entrance, and I found a wheelbarrow, a large stack of square stone blocks, and a big heap of rubble. I also found a table that was laden with tools.

  I felt a rush of excitement as my fingers closed around the barrel of a flashlight, but I pushed in the switch and the light failed to come on. I tried it several times, but the batteries were clearly dead. My heart sank.

  I kept searching, and I came upon a cardboard box that turned out to be full of wooden matches. I hoped that meant there might be something lying around that needed to be lit.

  I continued searching outside the crypt, but I didn't find anything else that might help me.

  I would have to search inside the crypt itself.

  I walked over to the yawning darkness that was the opening of the crypt, and I stepped shakily over the threshold.

  Trailing one hand along the wall as a guide, I walked slowly down the stairs into the crypt, toeing ahead of me with my boots. I knew from my experience with Odette that there was one flight of stairs, and then a brief landing and another flight of stairs. The second flight of stairs led to a long hallway that led first to the crypt itself, and then to the tunnels that reached under the Wasteland. There were no electric lights in the crypt—only cold stone and the Mstislav dead.

  I soon descended into complete darkness. I reached the bottom of the first set of stairs and searched the landing. I continued to toe ahead with my feet to investigate, since I couldn't use my eyes. And occasionally, I bent down to examine objects that I stumbled against with my hands. I encountered more tools and a water bottle. Then my boot struck against something that clanked. I picked it up—it felt like a lantern.

  I hurried up out of the crypt and discovered that I was indeed carrying a lantern. I quickly grabbed up a handful of the wooden matches, and then I retrieved my bicycle. I moved across the grounds as fast as I could. Once I was clear of the mansion, I would use the lantern and the matches.

  But at the moment, I just wanted to get far away from the crypt.

  After I reached the road, I glanced back once at the mansion, and I thought I saw a light flicker in one of the windows on the ground floor. Of course, there was nothing
strange about that. If someone was having the crypt repaired, then the house was probably still occupied by the family.

  All the same, the flicker of light had startled me.

  I rode away from the Mstislav mansion until there was just enough light to see by. Then I stopped and lit the lantern, which I had hung from my handlebars.

  With the lantern throwing out a small golden arc in front of me, I continued on across the Wasteland. I couldn't see very far ahead, and I feared what I might come upon in the dark. I worried too, that I might go past Galina's house without noticing it.

  I strained my eyes into the darkness, trying to catch sight of anything sinister before it could jump out at me, and I listened for any sound of pursuit.

  Just as my ride across the Wasteland was beginning to seem endless, I caught sight of the white glow of the Pure Woods up ahead of me. I hurried on to Galina's house, and I unhooked my lantern.

  I approached the house cautiously.

  The place was dark, and the door was still unlocked. I pushed it open and held the lantern up, illuminating a small portion of the dark hall.

  "Galina?" I called.

  It was possible that Galina was home but just asleep—it was, after all, after midnight by now—but I hesitated to go in. Something didn't feel right. I gave up on the house and turned toward the Pure Woods.

  The trees in the woods gave off a faint phosphorescent glow, which I remembered was adequate to see by, so I extinguished my lantern and left it near Galina's house. I figured it would be a good idea to conserve fuel, just in case.

  I walked in amongst the trees and tried to quiet my mind, tried to sense any spiritual energy that might be around me. But the energy of the woods eluded me, and I began to feel deeply uneasy. It seemed to me that there were eyes upon me, and that at any moment I could be attacked.