Dangerous Creatures (Book 3, Pure Series)

by Catherine Mesick

  "So David could be dead for real this time," I said. "Or it could be that he's still alive and you just can't sense him."

  "I'm afraid so."

  "Then David could have left the police station on his own," I said.

  "It's a possibility."

  "Could the Sìdh be blocking your ability to sense vampires?" I asked.

  "No. They can only block certain powers that derive from them. But they can't block my—other—abilities."

  "In that case there could be other vampires around here that you can't sense," I said. "And there must be at least one, because someone created David."

  "Unfortunately, that's true."

  "So what's going on?" I said. "What's with these two notes I received? Are they related to what happened to David? Or are they about something else completely?"

  "Those are all good questions."

  "Well, what about that necklace you found at the carnival?" I asked. "Did you find out any more about it?"

  "No, I didn't. I'd really like you to ask your friend Simon where he got it from. It's not the kind of thing the average high school student should have in his possession."

  "You're not going to tell me what it is, are you?"

  "I honestly don't know yet," William said. "It's just unusual for this part of the world—that's all."

  "So what do we do?" I asked.

  "I'll try to track down David's body. At this point I don't know if someone removed it or if it left under its own power, though I'm inclined toward the former. And once I've done that, I'll see what I can find out about your mysterious correspondent."

  "William," I said, "you're acting like this is an isolated incident—like it's just one vampire causing all the trouble. But what if it's part of a bigger problem?"

  "I'm not sure I follow you."

  "I think you do."

  "Katie—"

  "What if it's the Werdulac?"

  "I don't think that's who it is," William said. "Not right now."

  "Not right now?" I said. "How can you be sure? We both know that the Werdulac won't remain quiet forever. What if the vampire that is active here is a rogue working for him?"

  "I don't think that's who it is," William replied.

  "Why not?"

  He looked away from me.

  "William, please. I need to know what's going on. You aren't helping me by keeping things from me."

  "I have heard a few things."

  "What have you heard?"

  "Nothing's going on," William said. "That's why I haven't told you what I've heard. No one is headed this way."

  "William," I said.

  He sighed. "I suppose it can't hurt to tell you. And it may even help to put your fears at rest. There's a reason things have been quiet. The Werdulac has pulled the hybrids into hiding. He's protecting them."

  "Protecting them?" I said.

  "The hybrids have been disappearing—vanishing one by one. The Werdulac fears to lose the army he was only starting to build. The hybrids only numbered about a hundred when we encountered them in Russia, and we managed to kill about forty of them. The Werdulac can't really afford to lose any more hybrids at this point."

  I was stunned. "So the hybrids really aren't after me right now?"

  "They're staying far away from everyone at the moment."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "I've been worrying every night. I never knew if something horrible was going to show up at my door."

  "I'm sorry about that," William said. "I really am. But there's a reason I didn't tell you—I'm afraid there's more to this story. In addition to the hybrids, vampires have been disappearing, too, so many of them are keeping an even lower profile than usual."

  "That's a good thing, right?" I said. "Not that they're disappearing. Just that that might keep them away from us."

  William gave me a rueful look. "It might seem that way at first. The vampires and hybrids aren't exactly friends, as you know. At first, each side believed the other was guilty of the disappearances, but it turns out that that wasn't the case. Now there's a suspect in the disappearances on both sides. There have been glimpses of a girl whenever the disappearances take place. They call her the 'ghost girl,' and she moves so fast that no one can get a good look at her. Many believe she is the one responsible for the disappearances of the hybrids and the vampires—they simply vanish when she shows up."

  He paused. "The rumors are that the ghost girl is you."

  "Me?" I said, startled.

  "You're developing quite a reputation as the Little Sun—you're believed to be the scourge of the creatures of darkness. You defeated Gleb Mstislav and fought off the hybrid army of the Werdulac."

  "But I didn't really do those things. The only thing I did was take on Gleb, and I couldn't have done that without you. And I can't even use the clear fire anymore."

  "Your inability to use the clear fire is hardly common knowledge. And rumors can be more powerful than facts."

  "So they're all afraid of me now?"

  "They're terrified."

  "How long have you known?" I asked.

  "For some time."

  "I can't believe you didn't tell me all this," I said.

  "What's to tell? The sum total of all the information is that no one is after you. Right now you're safe. I did tell you that you were safe."

  "And I'm also public enemy number one."

  "Which will keep everyone away from you," William said. He smiled a little. "Remember, you're dangerous."

  "Why don't you think our current vampire trouble is part of that?" I asked. "Couldn't someone have been trying to use David to sneak up on me since we went to school together?"

  "It's possible," William said. "But my sources don't think so. From what I hear, everyone is still too afraid to move. It's as if they're all waiting for something—"

  He broke off abruptly.

  "Waiting for what?" I asked.

  "I don't know. I very genuinely don't. I wish I did."

  "You mentioned 'sources,'" I said. "Who are your sources?"

  "I've been talking to Anton."

  "Anton? Horrible Anton? Is he here?"

  "No. He's not here."

  "Then how—"

  "Through email."

  "Vampires use email?" I asked.

  "No reason why they can't," William replied. "Besides, he's in Russia in the heart of the vampire colony there, and he knows everything that's going on."

  "How do you know he's telling you the truth?"

  "The vampires have a vested interest in keeping you safe," William said. "Ordinary vampires want no part of the Werdulac's war—he wants to wipe them out just like he wants to wipe out the Sìdh. Any vampires that work with the Werdulac are outlaws. And Anton's no outlaw—at least, not anymore."

  "And what about this ghost girl?" I asked. "Who do you think she is?"

  "I'm not even sure that's she's real," William replied. "She could just be a rumor that took hold of popular imagination. What matters to me is how she affects you. Right now the ghost girl scare is keeping everyone away from you. I would only be concerned about her if the idea of her potentially puts you in danger—that is if anyone ever worked up the courage to come after you. But I don't think they will—it's not in their nature."

  He stopped and looked at me. "If the ghost girl problem heats up, I'll tell you. But right now you're in no danger from that quarter. I really do believe this thing with David is an isolated incident unrelated to the rest of it. I'll track down David tonight, and I'll take care of whoever it is who created him."

  "You don't have to do everything alone," I said quietly. "I can help you."

  "I can't let you do that," William said. "I can't put you in danger when I can take care of things myself."

  I sighed. I could tell his mind was made up.

  "There's nothing to be alarmed about, Katie. I have things under control right now. It's just David and one vampire."

  "But it's not just David anymore," I said. "There's
also Bryony Carson—she's a friend of mine—her grandmother has gone missing. She's really worried."

  I told William what Bryony had told me.

  He looked concerned. "That doesn't sound good."

  "No, it doesn't."

  "I'll find her tonight. Tell your friend someone is looking for her grandmother."

  "William, I can—"

  "Katie, please. I can't bear the thought. There's a lot of risk in this for you. I can't put you in danger. I can't. Especially not over something so small. This is nothing. It's just one isolated incident."

  "Is that what you really believe?" I said. "Or what you want to believe?"

  "Katie, I've lost so much. I can't bear to lose you, too."

  I sighed again.

  "Please, Katie."

  "I'll let you look on your own tonight," I said. "But you'll come and see me tomorrow, right? You'll tell me everything you found out."

  "I'll come to see you tomorrow," he said.

  We walked the rest of the way to my house, and William declined to come in—he seemed to be anxious to begin searching.

  That evening, I did my homework, ate dinner with GM, and watched a little TV in a desultory fashion, all the time wondering what was going on out in the darkness. It was with a sense of relief that I finally climbed the stairs to go to bed—although I doubted I would be able to sleep—I was really too anxious.

  I was just glad that the end of the night finally seemed to be in sight.

  But despite myself, I fell into a heavy sleep, and that night I had a dream that seemed familiar.

  I was standing in total darkness. A tiny point of light appeared and began to move toward me. The light became a shining, golden dragonfly that fluttered around me and then flew off. I followed it into the darkness.

  The dragonfly led me on until we broke through into a world of stars—I could see them both above me and below me. I stood enraptured by the stars until a drop of water sent a ripple through them, causing them to fade away.

  I was left in darkness once again.

  My dragonfly reappeared then and led me through a blackness that felt closer and tighter than before. I continued to follow the dragonfly, and as I moved, I felt the air around me grow colder, as if I were now surrounded by stone walls. The dragonfly came to a stop, hovering over a slab of stone. A length of snowy white cloth fell across the stone slab, and I heard a whisper that sounded right in my ear—

  I sat up then with a start and looked around my dark room. I could see a pinprick of light across the room, shining out from my mirror. As I watched it, the light went out.

  Chapter 4.

  When I awoke in the morning, I was no longer sure that I had seen anything at all, and the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed.

  It was true that I had seen visions in the mirror in the past—but those visions had been of William, and they had stopped a long time ago. They had stopped, in fact, when I had finally met him in person.

  Shortly after the visions of William had stopped, I had begun to have visions that were unrelated to a mirror—visions that simply appeared before my eyes, blotting out the reality in front of me. But those visions were derived from the Sìdh, and they, like the ability to use the clear fire, had been taken from me when I had refused to give up William. And as far as I knew, the Sìdh had not changed their position—as long as I was with William, I was cut off from my hereditary abilities.

  So while it wasn't impossible for me to have a vision—for lack of a better word—it wasn't very likely—not any longer.

  All the same, I couldn't help getting up and going to the mirror. But as I stared into its glassy depths, I saw only my own eyes staring back at me. Time passed, and nothing happened. I knew then that the light I'd seen must have been part of my dream—either that or a reflection from a passing car. If my previous experience with visions had taught me anything, it was that I didn't have to coax them out—visions didn't wait. If I wasn't seeing anything at the moment, then there was nothing to see.

  With a sense of relief, I quickly got ready and then ran downstairs.

  When I reached the kitchen, I was surprised to hear a breathy melody, and I was even more surprised when I realized it was coming from my grandmother.

  "GM, are you singing?"

  She froze with a towel in her hand, and a blush crept into her cheeks. "No, of course not. I was just clearing my throat."

  I looked at her closely—I had heard GM singing on only a few occasions—and those were rare. It wasn't something she did under normal circumstances.

  "Would you like eggs, Solnyshko?" GM asked, turning away from me.

  'Solnyshko' was a Russian endearment that meant 'little sun.' The term was actually pretty common, and GM used it without intending any special meaning.

  "No thanks," I said. "I think I'll just have cereal."

  GM continued to move around the kitchen, and she started singing softly again, as if she wasn't even aware of it. I watched her as she moved—her mood was definitely unusual.

  There was a buzz from another room, and GM looked up.

  "That's my phone," she said, and she ran to answer it.

  I couldn't help but notice that she was smiling as she left the room.

  As I ate my cereal, it occurred to me that I had seen GM in a mood like this once before—and that was when she had been receiving correspondence from a man named Maksim Neverov.

  And Maksim was the man I thought I had spotted on the night of the carnival.

  On the surface, there was really nothing wrong with that. If Maksim was indeed in town, he had every right to be—his son and his family lived in Elspeth's Grove—Maksim was actually Irina Neverov's grandfather. And if he was seeing GM, he had every right to do that, too—years ago, back in Russia, GM and Maksim had been engaged to be married.

  But they'd both ended up marrying other people, and for decades they'd had no contact—I hadn't even known that he existed.

  And then suddenly, Maksim had begun sending GM letters last year, and when GM and I had made our second of two trips to Russia, we had actually met up with him.

  And then shortly after that, I had begun to suspect Maksim—although what I suspected him of, I wasn't entirely sure.

  It was true that Maksim was related to the Mstislavs on his mother's side—and the Mstislavs had tried to kill me more than once. And it was also true that I had been warned against him by a vampire named Innokenti—and a vampire's warning was not to be taken lightly. But it was also true that I couldn't connect him to any specific wrongdoing, and he'd seemed to care very much for my grandmother. And he had sat with GM at my bedside when I was in the hospital—he had seemed genuinely concerned and supportive at the time.

  And then GM and I had returned home, and Maksim had remained in Russia, and whether or not he was trouble had ceased to matter—he was thousands of miles away. But the night of the carnival when I thought I'd spotted his face in the crowd, it had given me pause. I'd convinced myself that I hadn't seen him, but now I wondered if he could actually be in town.

  Was he the one GM was smiling over? And if so, was that really so bad?

  I tried to tell myself that Maksim's presence wasn't a problem—but I realized that I very genuinely didn't want him in my town.

  GM came back into the kitchen, and I couldn't help blurting out a question.

  "Was that Maksim?"

  GM looked startled. "What did you say?"

  "Was that Maksim Neverov who called you just now?"

  "No, of course not. What would give you an idea like that?"

  "It's just that you seemed to be expecting that call," I said. "And I thought I saw him on Sunday night at the carnival."

  GM blinked in surprise. "You saw Maksim Neverov here in Elspeth's Grove?"

  Her surprise seemed genuine, and I began to wonder once again if I'd been wrong about what I'd seen. "I thought I had. So, you haven't heard from him?"

  "No—I've not heard from him since we le
ft Russia. I suppose it's possible he could be here visiting his son. People do often visit their families. But as far as I know, Maksim has never done that."

  "Oh," I said. "But then why were you looking so happy?"

  GM waved a hand. "It's nothing. I wasn't looking so happy as you supposed."

  She wouldn't say anything further, and I was forced to give up on the topic. Perhaps the call really had been nothing out of the ordinary—maybe it was just something to do with GM's work.

  As I finished breakfast and left the house, I found that I was breathing a little easier now that I knew GM wasn't in contact with Maksim Neverov. I really didn't have any concrete reasons to be suspicious of him, but I was glad all the same.

  When I reached the schoolyard, I was surprised to see that Charisse and Branden weren't in residence at their usual picnic table, and Simon, who usually hung out nearby, wasn't anywhere in sight, either. But Bryony was waiting in their place, and she looked up expectantly as I approached. I could see clear lines of strain in her face.

  "Hey, Katie," Bryony said as I reached her. "I know you guys usually hang out here, so I was hoping I could catch you."

  She glanced around. "Where is everybody this morning?"

  I glanced around, too. Now that I came to look at it, the entire schoolyard appeared to be deserted. I felt a vague sense of apprehension—that definitely wasn't normal.

  "That's a good question," I said.

  "Did you—" Bryony began.

  She stopped.

  "I haven't found out anything about your grandmother yet," I said. "I'm sorry. I wish I had."

  Bryony nodded but her expression fell. "Oh, okay."

  "But I did tell my—friend—about what happened. He said he would go looking for your grandmother last night. And he's supposed to meet me today after school to tell me what he found."

  Bryony brightened a little. "Thanks. Everything helps. My parents have gone to the police now, too, but they haven't found anything. Apparently, my grandmother's credit cards haven't been used, which should be good news, except that to me that makes the other thing more likely. You know, the scarier thing."

  She stopped again. She glanced at me quickly and then looked away.

  "Bryony, is something else on your mind?"