"How could you know all that?" I asked.
Veronika smiled. "The darkness told me."
She stood suddenly and came close to me in one swift movement. "The ritual will require great sacrifice on my part, and so it will require great sacrifice on your part. Are you willing to pay for this healing? Will you give what is required?"
"What do you want?" I said.
Veronika's eyes glittered. "Whatever I ask. Whenever I ask it."
"What does that mean?" I said.
"I think you understood me."
"You mean you want me to give you anything you want," I said.
"Anything," Veronika replied. "Without question. This is dangerous work that I do. I put my own life at risk every time I perform a healing. I must upset the balance of nature."
"You want me to agree without my even knowing what it is?" I said.
Veronika's lips curled maliciously. "You would bargain for his life?"
"No," I said quickly. "Never."
"Then we have an agreement?"
I glanced over at William's prone form.
"Yes, we have an agreement," I said.
Veronika smiled. "You are brave to take that on for him. I hope he is worthy of it."
"He is," I said.
"Then I will do what I can to heal him," Veronika said. "Of course, if William happens to die in the course of the treatment, then you are released from our contract. If I can't heal him, you owe me nothing. That should be a relief to you."
"It isn't," I said.
Veronika tilted her head. "It should be."
She turned then and moved back toward William. "I'm going to take him into my workroom, and the two of you will remain here. Is that clear?" She shouldered William easily and turned to face us. "Under no circumstances are either of you to interrupt. If you come into the room for any reason, the delicate balance that I must create will be shattered, and I could lose him."
Veronika looked at me. "And if that happens, I will demand payment. So you two stay here no matter what you see or hear. Understood?"
"Understood," I said.
Veronika walked into the next room with her burden and closed the door behind her.
I sank down on the sofa on which William had so recently rested, and Sachiko sat down beside me.
I placed my head in my hands. "What am I going to do, Sachiko?"
"I think you have to prepare yourself for the worst," Sachiko said quietly.
I looked up at her. "How can you say that?"
"There's no point in avoiding the truth," she said. "Building up your hopes won't make it any less painful if he dies. I brought William here because I said I would—and because being here at least gives him a chance. But I didn't like the look of him when I first saw him. And Veronika didn't like the look of him, either. But she will try. That's what matters."
"That doesn't help very much," I said.
"It wasn't meant to."
"What do you think Veronika will want from me if she does heal William?" I asked.
"I really couldn't say," Sachiko replied. "Veronika's desires are capricious and unusual. It could be anything."
"What did Veronika ask of you in exchange for saving David's life?" I asked.
Sachiko looked down at the silver stake she still carried. "I'd rather not say. It was a private agreement between us."
Suddenly, there was a strange, keening cry from the next room, and I looked up in alarm. The cry faded, and a moment later, there was a long, low wail—though whether it was Veronika or William, I couldn't have said.
I stood up quickly.
Sachiko pulled me back down. "Remember what Veronika said. You could ruin whatever chance William has to survive if you go in there."
"But that cry," I said.
"Ignore it," Sachiko said. "You have to."
"Sachiko—"
"There's nothing you can do. All that's left for you is to wait."
There was another wail, and I forced myself to stay still. I looked around for a way to distract myself, and my eyes fell on the stake in Sachiko's hands.
"So what happened back at the castle?" I asked. "You and Terrance very nearly attacked each other."
Sachiko remained silent, and I glanced over at her. She was staring down at the stake and rubbing her thumb over a symbol on the handle.
"That guy back at the castle," she said at last. "He's a friend of yours?"
"Terrance?" I said. "We go to school together. To be honest, I don't know him very well. But he's always been friendly to me."
"Do you know who he is?"
"I suppose I don't," I said. "I never expected to see him here."
Sachiko handed me the stake and pointed to the symbol. It was etched into the metal of the handle, and it looked like a stylized rendition of a rose wrapped around a branch.
"That's the insignia of the Order of the Hawthorne."
"The Order of the Hawthorne?" I said in surprise. "Terrance is a knight?"
"And a vampire hunter," Sachiko said.
"He said that wasn't what he was."
"I imagine he said he was trying to cure vampires."
"Yes, he did say that," I said.
"He probably believes it, too," Sachiko replied. "But what they believe is a cure isn't a cure at all."
"I know," I said. "I saw what happened to David."
"You don't know the half of it," Sachiko said. "They've unleashed something terrible on the vampire community, and I don't believe they know it." She glanced over at the stake. "I'm not sure they would care if they did."
I handed the stake back to Sachiko. "By 'they' you mean the Order of the Hawthorne?"
"Yes."
"What did they do?" I asked.
"It's this 'cure.' They think they have it under control, but they don't."
"What is it exactly?" I asked.
"Have you ever heard of the Tears of the Firebird?"
"No," I said.
"Have you heard of the Firebird?"
"Yes," I said. "It's a mythical bird in Russian folklore. It's supposed to be able to cure any illness."
"Well, according to the stories around here," Sachiko said, "the Firebird was real. And even though she grew to be very old, she never died. Instead, she went to sleep—right here in Krov, somewhere under the ground in the Pure Woods. That was centuries ago, and she continues to sleep now—no one knows if she will ever awake again. But while the Firebird sleeps, she dreams. And she dreams of all the suffering that goes on in this world. In her sleep, the Firebird cries—she cries for all the suffering she sees. Her tears flow up through rock to the surface, and they form a spring—a spring that has marvelous healing powers and can cure any ailment imaginable."
"Including the ailment of being a vampire?" I said.
"Exactly," Sachiko said. "The spring is known, naturally enough, as the Tears of the Firebird. The spring was largely a secret—though certain human and vampire mystics did know of its existence. But its waters flowed into the ground in the Pure Woods, and its healing properties eventually extended beyond the boundaries of the spring itself. In time, the entire woods became imbued with its healing powers."
"That doesn't sound so terrible," I said.
"It wasn't terrible for humans and animals and plants," Sachiko said. "In other words, it was good for the natural world and the things that fit into the natural order. But for the unnatural creatures—like the vampires—the effect was not so good. The original vampire community was in the Pure Woods—and there's still a small one living there today—but that original colony was suddenly beset by a plague. The healing powers that flowed through the woods hit the vampires hard. Some of the vampires were unexpectedly healed, and they became human once again. The desire for blood left them—as did their unnaturally long life span—and those who were not killed by their former brethren returned to a normal human existence and lived out the rest of their mortal lives. Other vampires, however, were not so fortunate. The healing powers that lifted th
e vampire curse for some, simply brought death for others. In these cases, the skin of the afflicted vampires would grow grey and cracked, and lines like veins in marble would appear all over their bodies. The natural decay that should have come to them in death, came to them in their unnatural state of life. Once the decay was complete, they died."
"So that's what was happening to David?" I said.
"That's exactly what was happening to him," Sachiko said.
"But how could that old spring affect David?" I asked. "I've been to the Pure Woods, and I've never heard anything about it."
"You haven't heard about it for a reason," Sachiko said. "Once the vampires of the Pure Woods realized the spring was the reason they were losing their lives—either to humanity or otherwise—they destroyed the spring. According to some versions of the story, they cursed the spring with vampire magic so that it ran dry. According to other versions, they simply buried it under earth and stone. But whatever they did, the spring disappeared, and the Pure Woods lost its healing qualities. But the Firebird continued to dream, and her tears continued to fall somewhere underground. The Order of the Hawthorne got to hear of the legend and vowed many generations ago to find the spring and restore it."
"And did they restore it?" I said.
"I suppose they must have," Sachiko said. "Either that or the level of the spring rose until it burst forth naturally again. In any event, the Order did find the spring, and once they realized that it was indeed the Tears of the Firebird—and that the water was effective against vampires—they put it to use."
Sachiko ran her thumb over the insignia on the stake once again.
"It wouldn't have been nearly so bad," she said, "if the waters of the spring had remained within the boundaries of the Pure Woods. But the Order has taken water out—and taken it all over the world. They've been testing it and using it—eventually putting it into stakes. It's been getting into the world's water supply and into the soil and grass and trees. It's created an epidemic in the vampire community. That's why vampires are getting stricken and vanishing suddenly. It's not because some mysterious ghost girl is going around staking people—there aren't even any stakes present at most of the incidents now. Vampires are vanishing—actually crumbling into dust and dying—because they've been exposed to water from the Tears of the Firebird. That's what the ghost girl actually is—it's a contaminant that's gotten into the air and the water. That's why the deaths are seemingly so random."
Sachiko turned the stake over in her hand.
"Luckily, this one is empty. I suppose that's because it was used on the king."
"Why haven't you told anyone about this?" I said.
"I did tell people, at first," Sachiko said. "But nobody believed me. And what proof did I have, really? I know where the spring is, and I know it's dangerous. But the only way I could really demonstrate that would be to stab a vampire with one of these stakes and then wait for the negative effects to show. Of course, then it would just look like I was you in disguise as the ghost girl, offing vampires with my terrible powers. No one would ever believe it was the water."
"How did you find out about all of this?" I asked.
Sachiko frowned. "It's strange, you know. I don't know exactly how it happened. I remembered feeling a disturbance at first—something in the air that wasn't right. I followed the disturbance, and I came across a vampire who was suffering."
Sachiko paused. "There was nothing I could do for him. He actually vanished right before my eyes—left nothing but a cloud of dust. That was the first death of this type I'd ever seen. Then I felt the disturbance again and again. And every time I followed it, it led me to the death of a vampire."
"So that's how you know where to go?" I said. "That's why you always appear—as if by magic—before a vampire is stricken?"
Sachiko nodded. "I'm fast. And somehow I can feel the trouble coming, and I follow it. I was a healer of a kind myself once—back in my old human life. Perhaps some of those instincts remain. Eventually, following the disturbances led me to the spring. The feeling of disturbance is strongest at the source."
"So this healing water is all over the place now," I said. "Why doesn't it affect all vampires? Why is it just a few here and there?"
"It probably depends on the amount of the exposure," Sachiko said. "And some vampires are more sensitive to it than others—the most sensitive are always hit the hardest in any epidemic. But the more the tears are used throughout the world, the more vampires will die through accidental exposure."
"You've seen deaths," I said. "But have you seen any cures? Have you seen anyone who became human again?"
"No," Sachiko replied. "I've heard of a few, but I haven't seen one. They seem to happen considerably less often. And I don't know what makes the difference—I don't know why some are cured and others die. Perhaps it has something to do with the dose, or maybe it's something else entirely. And I don't object to a cure. The problem is that no one has a choice. A lot of us didn't choose this life in the first place. It's wrong to take the choice from us a second time."
"So is that what Terrance was doing?" I said. "He was at the castle distributing cures?"
"Not exactly," Sachiko said. "That was just a means to an end. What he really came for was the Star of Morning."
I looked at her in surprise. "Terrance has the sword?"
"Of course. That was his whole purpose in coming to the castle. He wanted the sword, and he stormed the Vaults. The 'cures' were incidental. After all, no one was just going to let him walk in and take the sword."
"What would Terrance want with the Star of Morning?" I asked.
"He's a vampire hunter," Sachiko replied. "And one of the oldest, strongest vampires in the world has been released."
I was startled. "You think Terrance is going to go after the Hunter?"
"He's a member of the Order of the Hawthorne," Sachiko said. "It's what they do. They certainly couldn't ignore something of this magnitude. And it's very possible that the Order actually knows how the sword is supposed to be used. That's the sort of thing they exist to know."
"Then we have to find Terrance," I said. "We have to find out what he knows about the sword."
"As much as I dislike the idea of working with the Order of the Hawthorne," Sachiko said, "I have to agree with you. We'd better find him."
"What about this vampire cure the Order has?" I said. "Could that be used against the Hunter?"
"Unfortunately, I don't think so," Sachiko said. "I have a terrible feeling that the Hunter is far too powerful for that. And the Order of the Hawthorne doesn't think so, either. Otherwise, they never would have sent Terrance to steal the sword."
She looked down at the stake in her hands. "No—destroying the Hunter will take something much stronger than this."
As I watched Sachiko turn the stake over in her fingers, everything around me abruptly went black, and Sachiko, the stake, and the room before us vanished from my sight. The darkness surrounding me was complete and absolute, and I suddenly felt a deep, bone-chilling cold wrap around me.
I turned my head in the darkness. "Sachiko?"
"I'm here," she said. "And I can't see a thing. The darkness is too dense even for me."
"What's going on?" I asked. "What does it mean?"
"It means something is happening with William," Sachiko said.
"Something good or bad?" I asked.
"That remains to be seen. All we can do is wait. Just stay here on the couch with me, and try not to let the darkness get to you. Complete darkness can play tricks on your mind."
I shivered.
Sachiko and I continued to sit in the dark and the cold, and as time stretched on, I felt the darkness pressing in on me as if it were an actual physical weight.
I found myself struggling to breathe.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the darkness and the cold vanished. Once again, I was sitting with Sachiko on the sofa, and the dim light that had lit up Veronica's shabby front room of lace and c
rystal was back.
The door on the far side of the room opened, and Veronika herself emerged. Her face was drawn and pale, and she looked deeply tired—as if something essential had gone out of her.
"You can come in and see him," she said.
I got up quickly. "William's okay?"
Veronika bowed her head. "William has been restored."
I rushed past her into the room. William was lying on a bare wooden table in a cramped, cluttered room. I could see that the cuts and bruises on his face and neck had healed—but his eyes were still closed, and he wasn't moving.
Fear froze me to the spot. "What's wrong? Why isn't he moving?"
There was a tired voice in my ear. "He is all right. He's just very weak. Go to him."
I moved quickly to the table, and I brushed my hand over William's hair.
"William," I whispered.
His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around as if in confusion. Then his eyes settled on me.
"Katie," he said softly.
Then he sat up quickly. "Katie!"
He wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly.
"Oh, Katie. I thought I'd never see you again."
I hugged him back fiercely, and I could feel tears stinging my eyes.
Chapter 27.
"Katie, I thought I'd lost you," William said.
"You'll never lose me," I said.
"The thought of you was the only thing that kept me going," William said. "I tried to find you. I kept your image before me always. Your face was the last thing I saw before—"
William stopped and then went on in a low voice. "I thought I was going to die."
"You very nearly did."
William and I both looked up to see Veronika watching us with glittering eyes.
"Who are you?" William asked. "Katie, who is this?"
"This is Veronika," I said. "She saved you."
"Saved me?"
"I did more than save you," Veronika said. "I brought you back from the brink of death."
Dangerous Creatures (Book 3, Pure Series) Page 33
