Dangerous Creatures (Book 3, Pure Series) (22 page)

              "Anton—"

              "We deserve it, Katie. We really do."

              I turned to look out the window.

              "I'm glad we're going to London," I said, after some time had passed.

              "A nice change of subject," Anton replied. "I must be rubbing off on you."

              "No, I really mean it," I said. "My parents died when I was young, and I never really knew them that well. My grandmother told me my father was born in London. I've never been there."

              "Really?" Anton said. "That's very intriguing. Who knew I'd made such a good guess when I chose that stopover? Do you know where in London exactly?"

              "No. I don't suppose I could give my grandmother a call and ask her?"

              Anton had to smile. "Not a chance. I got you something, by the way."

              I looked at him in surprise. "You what?"

              "I got you something," Anton said again. "It's in the glove compartment."

              I opened the small door and pulled out a white plastic bag. "Is this it?"

              "Yep."

              With one last questioning glance at Anton, I reached into the bag and pulled out a book. It was a travel guide to London.

              "I know we won't have much time there," Anton said. "And I know you can just look stuff up online, but somehow it's nicer to have a book."

              "Yes, it is nicer to have a book," I said. "Wow. Thanks, Anton."

              He glanced over at me. "Don't sound so shocked."

              "I'm not shocked exactly," I said. "It's just that I didn't expect this. It's so—"

              "So what?"

              "So thoughtful," I said.

              Anton grinned. "I suppose I should be offended, but I actually know what you mean. It's really not like me. Let's hope it's just one more thing that will throw Emmanuel off our trail."

              We continued to drive, and as I watched the featureless highway flying by, I began to feel drowsy. I'd slept pretty well at the hotel, especially considering everything I'd been through, but I was still tired and sore, and I welcomed the prospect of more sleep.

              I let my head fall back against the headrest, and I watched the gray road until I drifted off.

              A familiar darkness came to me then, and my guide, the dragonfly, reappeared. But just as I began to follow it, the scene suddenly shifted, and I felt myself being wrenched violently away. My vision blurred for just a moment, and then I found myself staring through a silver haze into a sunny room that was somehow familiar.

              I realized with a thrill of shock that I was staring into my own bedroom. I was staring across a broad, flat surface toward my bed—it was a view that was only possible if I were sitting on my dresser.

              I realized I was looking out through my own mirror.

              As I looked into my room, I could see a large shadow moving all the way at the edge of my vision. The shape looked to be a man, and he was lifting a piece of cloth. As I stared at him, trying to make out his shape more clearly, the man turned toward me suddenly. I had a brief glimpse of a face—and then everything went black.

              I awoke with a start and looked around. I was back in the car with Anton, and my room and the man had faded away.

              "Everything all right?" Anton asked.

              "Yes," I said. "I just had a strange dream."

              I told Anton about it quickly. "Do you think it means something?"

              "I don't see how it could," he replied.

              "Do you think it's a message from the Sìdh? It was through a mirror."

              Anton shrugged. "If it's a message, then you should tell them to speak a little louder."

              "You aren't even a little curious about it?" I asked.

              "No. But you did wake up just in time. We've arrived at the airport."

              Anton parked the car and then looked over at me. "Don't look so sad. I know you were hoping you'd found something, but sometimes a dream is just a dream. Come on, let's go check in."

              "I still don't have a visa," I said as I got out of the car.

              Anton slammed his door shut and smiled. "I know. You know, I'm actually looking forward to trying to schmooze the airline officials to see if I can get you past them. It's time to shake the rust off the old charm."

              "You would really call what you do charm?" I asked.

              "Yes, of course. What would you call it?"

              "I don't think you want to know," I said.

              "Well, whatever you want to call it," Anton replied, "you'll get to see it in action soon enough."

              We took a shuttle to our terminal and went to check in.

              Our check-in counter wasn't busy, and Anton seemed delighted when he saw that the person staffing the counter was a pretty young woman.

              "This should be easier than I thought," he said, as we walked over to her. "I'll have you through in no time. Visa or no visa."

              The woman smiled at us. "Tickets and passports, please."

              Anton took my passport from me and handed it over along with his own. "I think you'll find everything is in order."

              The woman checked our tickets and then checked our passports.

              She looked up at me. "I'm afraid, miss, that you appear to be missing the necessary visa."

              Anton leaned forward. "No, she isn't." His voice was low and silky.

              "I can assure that she is, sir." The woman flipped through the passport to demonstrate.

              "Wait," Anton said. "Right there." He put a finger on the passport and pinned down a page. "That looks like a visa right there."

              Anton gave her a seductive smile.

              "Yes, sir," the woman said patiently. "That is a visa that permits entry into Russia, but as you can see, it has expired."

              "Are you sure?" Anton said, his voice low and smoky. "Perhaps you should check the date again."

              "I can assure you the visa has expired. And no new visa has been issued."

              "Perhaps if you look through it once more."

              "All the other pages are blank, sir."

              "Even that one?" Anton put a finger on another page.

              "Yes, sir," the woman said. "It is quite clearly blank. There is no visa on that page."

              "Try looking again."

              "I am looking, sir. Still no visa."

              I glanced over at Anton. "This isn't looking good," I murmured.

              "I can do this," Anton said. He returned to the woman. "May I ask your name?"

              "My name is Svetlana."

              "That's a lovely name."

              "Thank you, sir. Unfortunately, there is still no visa. I don't believe that flattery can help either one of us with that."

              As the woman said the words, I was forced to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

              Anton glared at me.

              "Now, Svetlana," he said. "May I see that passport again?"

              "Certainly, sir, but I caution you that if you attempt to write in the correct date, it will not pass inspection."

              Anton smiled. "Of course not."

              He began to flip through the passport. After he had flipped through it once, he flipped through it again. And then again. He continued to flip through the passport, and the effect became hypnotic.

              I found that all I could do was watch Anton's fingers and the flipping pages. Everything else around me seemed to fade away.

              "Hello, Svetlana," Anton said to the woman, and his words seemed to come from a distance. "My young friend and I are here to check in. Here are our passports."

              He smiled and handed my passport over to Svetlana. She looked down at it, and confusion played across her face.

              "We've just arrived at your counter," Anton said pleasantly. "We're going to Russia. And you've just looked over our passports. Everything is in order."

              Svetlana looked up at Anton, and her clear blue eyes met his dark gaze.

              She stared at him for a long moment. Then she blinked.

              "I'm sorry, sir, what was that?"

              Anton smiled again, and his face assumed a beatific expression.

              "I just said thank you."

              "Thank you?" Svetlana said.

              "Yes." Anton's voice was mild and friendly. "You said everything was in order, and I said thank you. I think you were just about to give us back all our things."

              Svetlana blinked again, and a blush rose to her cheeks. "Yes, sir. Of course."

              She typed quickly on her computer and then handed over our tickets and passports.

              "Any luggage to declare?"

              Anton had a suitcase, and so did I, and I decided to keep my backpack as a carry on.

              Soon we were done with everything, and Svetlana smiled at us.

              "Enjoy your trip," she said.

              Anton grinned broadly. "We'll do our best. Good-bye, Svetlana."

              As we walked away, I couldn't help but glance back at the check-in counter. Svetlana was staring down at her computer with a frown on her face, and as I watched, she shook her head, as if trying to clear it. A new customer walked up to her, and she seemed to shrug off her confusion. She smiled as she spoke to the man in front of her.

              "So," Anton said. "I believe some accolades are in order."

              "You did get us through," I said. "Good job."

              "I wonder if something is wrong with my hearing," Anton said. "Because your praise is sounding decidedly lukewarm."

              He tilted his head. "No, I believe my hearing is still pretty good. I just heard the man at the counter tell Svetlana that he's allergic to peanuts, and he wishes American flights would stop serving them."

              "You did a great job, Anton," I said. "I wouldn't have been able to get through the visa thing without you. But you do have to admit that it didn't start off very well."

              "What do you mean?" Anton asked.

              "You can't possibly be surprised," I said. "Svetlana wasn't having it at first."

              "I don't know what you saw," Anton said. "But I saw a pretty fine performance."

              "She was ready to kick us both to the curb."

              "I was never worried," Anton said. "Not for a moment. Svetlana thought I was devastatingly handsome. I could tell."

              "Is that what she thought?" I asked.

              "Yes. And that's what you think, too."

              "Oh?" I said.

              "I'm handsome. Admit it."

              "In an evil sort of way," I said.

              Anton smiled. "Isn't that the best way?"

              I had a strange feeling then that I was forgetting something important, and I stopped walking.

              "Is something wrong?" Anton asked.

              "No," I said. "Let's just get going."

              We went through security and then sat down to wait for our flight.

              As we waited, a persistent feeling that I was forgetting something—or someone—tugged on my mind. The feeling was still with me by the time a loudspeaker crackled to life and announced that our flight was boarding.

              Anton looked up. "That's us."

              We walked up to the flight attendant together and handed over our boarding passes. Then we walked down the narrow tunnel into the plane.

              As we settled into our seats, Anton gave me a steady stare—there was something unnerving in his dark eyes.

              "Are you sure nothing's wrong?" he asked.

              "No, it's nothing," I said. "It's just that—"

              "Yes?"

              "I feel like there's something—or maybe even someone—I ought to remember."

              Anton smiled. "That's nothing. I'm sure if it's important it'll come back to you. Then again, maybe it won't."