Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series) (34 page)

           
Would the call work if I tried it again?
 
Would it bring Cormac to me if I used it?

           
The idea took a hold of me very strongly, and I was decided to try it out.
 
If I could see Cormac again—talk to him—maybe I could find out something about what was going on.

           
I hesitated to call him in my room.
 
His presence, should he appear, would be very difficult to explain to GM.
 
So I decided to wait until GM went to bed and try to call him outside in the yard behind the house.

           
That was the same place where I had called William to me for the very first time.

           
My heart fluttered a little at the thought of him, and a tiny hope sprang up that this time William might appear instead of Cormac.

           
Maybe there had been some kind of interference the last time I had used the call.
 
Maybe I wouldn't have to go all the way to Russia to look for William.

           
Maybe he would come here.

           
Don't get too excited
, I warned myself.
 
You'll only feel worse if William doesn't show up
.

           
But once the possibility of seeing William had occurred to me, it proved to be a difficult idea to shake.
 
So, I waited anxiously, my ears straining to hear every sound the house made, until I heard GM come up the stairs and settle in for the night.

           
Then I slipped downstairs as noiselessly as I could and let myself out the back door.
 
I felt a flash of panic as I stepped out into the starless night.
 
I realized suddenly that going outside unprotected when I was the prey of vampires was unwise.
 
But I would risk it to see William again.

           
William won't come
, I told myself sternly, as I walked across the backyard, feeling the chill of the night wrap itself around my body.
 
Don't even think about him
.

           
But think about him I did.
 
I stood still in the frozen night, my heart beating wildly.
 
And as I whispered the words, "Katie Wickliff summons you," I felt my breath quicken, and a sharp stab of nervousness that wasn't entirely unpleasant ran through me.

           
What if I was about to see him again?

           
I waited for the rush of air that preceded his arrival.
 
I waited for William.

           
I searched the dark for his long, lean form.

           
But nothing stirred in the night.

           
I told myself not to panic—perhaps I had whispered too softly.
 
I spoke the words again, my heart beating even more wildly than before.

           
Time passed, and I felt the cold biting more deeply into my skin.

           
William was not coming.

           
I whispered the words a third time, and I felt tears stinging my eyes.

           
No William.
 
No Cormac, either.
 
No one listening in the night, no one watching over me—no one was there to keep the creatures who were after me at bay.

           
But worst of all, there was no William.

           
Tears began to fall, and I brushed them away.
 
I felt my hand shaking, and I tried to tell myself that it was only the cold that caused it.
 
I had known that William was gone, I had
known
that he wouldn't come when I called, and yet I had allowed myself to believe—

           
The tears began to fall more fiercely, and I could feel them hot and burning as they ran down my cheek and neck.
 
A cry escaped from me, and it sounded unnaturally loud on the night air.
 
I quickly pressed my hand against my lips.
 
My other hand I wrapped around my waist.

           
I wanted him to come back.
 
I wanted to see William again, even if he didn't want to see me.
 
But more than anything, I wanted to see him as he had once been—I wanted to see the William who looked at me with love in his eyes.

           
Was it possible that William, the one I loved and the one who loved me, still existed?
 
Or was I going to Russia to search for someone who had grown cold inside?

           
He had vanished without explanation.
 
What if I found him, and he finally said the terrible words to me that I feared?
 
Could I bear to stand before him and have him tell me he didn't love me and he wanted me to go?

           
The tears continued to fall, and I knew that I would risk fresh hurt to see him again.

           
I would find him.
 
I would see him one last time.

           
I went back into the house and locked the door behind me.

           
I climbed into bed shivering and grateful for the warmth of my covers.
 
I had redoubled my resolve to see William again.
 
I just hoped that those who stalked the dark for me would let me live until that day arrived.

           
In the morning, I was restless, eager to be gone to Russia—eager to start my search.
 
But I still had ten days of school left.

           
I didn't know how I would get through it.

           
I hurried down to breakfast, and as I ate, I noticed that GM was watching me carefully.

           
"You don't look well, Katie."

           
I had barely glanced into the mirror before I'd come down, but I had a feeling that my eyes probably showed signs of the crying that I had done last night.

           
"I'm fine, GM," I said in the most reassuring tone I could muster, "I really am."

           
"You're not ill?"

           
"No."

           
"Are you worried about school?
 
I know your mid-term exams will be soon."

           
GM was right—I did have exams coming up.
 
And I hadn't been working as I hard as I should have been.
 
I would make an effort to keep my mind clear of distractions and focus on my schoolwork.

           
"Is it school, Solnyshko?" GM prompted when I didn't answer right away.

           
"No, I'm not worried about school."

           
GM sighed.
 
"Is it that boy, then?
 
Why is it always that boy?
 
You said he was distant—has it gotten worse?"

           
I looked down into my cereal—I knew I couldn't answer her.
 
Why did GM have to become perceptive at exactly the wrong moments?

           
"Is he gone?" GM asked.

           
I looked up at her, but remained silent.

           
She reached across the table and patted my hand.
 
"I do not wish you to be unhappy, Katie, but sometimes these things are for the best."

           
She stood up and began to clear her dishes away.
 
"I think it is good for you that we will be going away soon.
 
You will find that the air of Russia can be healing.
 
And there is not so much urgency this time."

           
GM paused, a dish held in her hand.
 
She seemed to lose her train of thought for a moment.

           
I wondered if she was thinking back to our first visit together.
 
And I wondered once more what she allowed herself to remember about it.

           
"You will have a good time on this trip," she said at last, her voice dreamy and distant.

           
She blinked and seemed to come to herself again.
 
"You may walk to school this morning if you wish.
 
I think you will be safe—these last few days have been quiet.
 
And I have some errands to run today, Solnyshko, things I have to pick up before our trip."

           
She gave me an apologetic smile.
 
"I may not be home when you get back from school today."

           
I couldn't help but smile myself—GM was always there when I got home from school.
 
Coming home to an empty house would be a novelty.

           
"I think I'll be fine, GM.
 
A few hours alone won't hurt me."

           
GM waved a hand at me.
 
"Just leave your things on the table.
 
There's no need for you to clear up this morning."

           
I finished breakfast and hurried out into the cold morning.
 
I was not looking forward to ten more days of school, but I would get through them.

           
Once at school, I walked quickly through the yard without looking around—I didn't want to catch sight of Simon or Charisse or Branden.
 
I'd feel obligated to stop and talk to them.

           
And I didn't want to talk to anyone right now.

           
I hurried to my locker, and then hurried to the cafeteria, where I buried my nose in a book.
 
I would throw myself into studying and focus only on my exams.
 
Time would pass more quickly, and I would fulfill my responsibilities.
 
I really liked my classes, and my grades were important to me.
 
I had been guilty of letting things slide lately.

           
I became immersed in my reading and was startled when the warning bell rang.

           
I did more studying in homeroom, and when I ran into Branden and Charisse in second-period English, I smiled and waved and went to my desk to do more reading.
 
I felt bad, but I genuinely did need time to catch up.

           
I realized it might be best for me to study at lunch for the next few days too.

           
So, when it was time for lunch, I hurried through the line and took my tray to a table in the corner.
 
Then I opened a book and read as I ate.

           
A short time later, there was a crash that shook the table.
 
I looked up, startled.

           
A dark green backpack had suddenly appeared in the middle of my table.
 
The backpack was swept off the table and onto the floor with surprising swiftness, and Branden sat heavily in the plastic chair next to me.

           
"So, why are you avoiding us?" he asked without preamble.

           
"What was that?"
 
I was a bit dazed after being jolted out of my reading so abruptly.

           
Charisse took a seat next to Branden.
 
Simon sat down on my other side.

           
"Simon thinks you're angry because of what I said the other day," Branden said.
 
"About the Russian immigrants in this area and the bootlegging and so on and so forth.
 
Are you angry about that?"

           
"No," I said.
 
And it was true—I wasn't.

           
Branden held out a hand triumphantly.
 
"See?
 
I told you."

           
Simon ignored Branden.
 
"Katie, you can't get hung up on the crazy things Branden says.
 
You know he doesn't know what he's talking about half the time—or ever, for that matter."

           
"Hey," Branden said.

           
"Simon," I said, "I'm not upset about anything Branden or anybody else said.
 
Really.
 
Honestly."

           
Simon looked at me searchingly.
 
"Then why have you been avoiding us?"

           
"I'm not.
 
I haven't—"