Dangerous Creatures (Book 3, Pure Series) (6 page)

              We were allowed to go on to our classes, and the police were going to maintain a presence at the school for the rest of the day, just in case anything else out of the ordinary happened.

              Rumors swirled around in the halls, and everyone had a theory as to what had happened. A drunk driver, a disgruntled former student, and terrorists were the three most popular potential culprits, and as I made way to the cafeteria later in the afternoon, the crash was still the most popular topic of discussion.

              As I went through the line, I thought I heard the name 'Neverov' whispered a few times. I was surprised to hear it, and I glanced around, straining to listen. But I couldn't catch any more of the conversation, and I went to join Branden, Charisse, and Simon at their table.

              They were, of course, discussing the crash.

              "I don't think anyone can say what happened at this point," Charisse said as I sat down. "There really isn't any evidence to go on."

              Simon turned a sardonic grin on Branden. "I bet you think it was the Russian mob, don't you?"

              "It's funny you should say that," Branden replied loftily. "Because it has just been confirmed that the sleek, late model sedan that crashed into the library belongs to none other than Ivan Neverov—father of Irina."

              "Irina's dad?" Charisse said incredulously. "Are you sure?"

              "Positive," Branden replied. "And so are the police."

              "Why didn't you tell me?" Charisse asked.

              "I did tell you. Just now."

              "Why didn't you tell me before?" she said.

              "I only just found out myself."

              "So how does it have anything to do with the Russian mob?" Simon said.

              Branden shrugged. "Ivan Neverov came here from Russia, and his car crashed into our school. That's evidence of criminal activity."

              "Why would he do that?" Simon asked. "What good does driving a car into the school do anybody? Besides, I really doubt Ivan Neverov was driving the car—even if it is his."

              "Which it is," Branden said.

              "I bet the car was stolen," Simon said.

              "By Ivan Neverov?"

              "No, genius. Someone stole his car, and then drove it into the school."

              "Maybe," Branden said.

              "You'll see I'm right."

              Branden and Simon continued to argue, and I had a feeling that Simon was probably right about the car being stolen—I really couldn't picture Irina's father intentionally driving his car into the school.

              At the same time, I couldn't interest myself in their argument too much—suddenly I wasn't feeling very well. I was very tired, and I just wanted to get away from the lights and the sounds all around me.

              I wondered if I was coming down with the flu.

              After lunch, I went to the nurse's office, and Mrs. Sara greeted me with a gentle murmur, her large, dark eyes full of sympathy as they always were when she spoke to a student. She took my temperature, and a frown creased her brow as she read the thermometer.

              "Do I have a fever?" I asked.

              "No," Mrs. Sara said. "Quite the opposite. Your temperature is too low. Ninety-five degrees is not in the normal range. Do you feel cold?"

              "No," I said. "Just tired."

              Mrs. Sara took my hands in hers. "Your hands are cold. And your fingers are turning white."

              She looked up into my face. "Your lips are white, too."

              Mrs. Sara had me lie down on a cot in a quiet, dark room, and she piled several blankets on me.

              "Let's see if we can't warm you up. We don't want you going into shock."

              She then retired into the other room, leaving me to rest.

              After a little while, I heard the phone ring, and Mrs. Sara answered it in her gentle murmur. After a moment of silence, she spoke again.

              "All right," she said quietly. "I'll be right there."

              Mrs. Sara left, and I had the chance I'd been waiting for. I pushed my covers off and crept out of the office.

              As I slipped through the hallways, careful to avoid being seen, I had to wonder what I was doing.

              Why had I left the nurse's office? And what was I looking for?

              But my feet led me on as if they knew where to go, and before long, I found myself opening a metal door marked
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
. Behind the door was a stairwell with concrete walls and metal railings. I went down the stairs.

              As I reached the bottom, I heard the steady hum of machinery, and I went on to a door marked
Boiler Room
. I opened the door and fumbled on the wall until I found a light switch. I flipped it on, and a row of fluorescent lights, one of them flickering badly, sputtered to life, bathing a broad swath of the room in a wan, sickly light. I let the door close heavily behind me.

              The room was full of pipes that crisscrossed overhead, and there were several large cylindrical containers with gauges, the function of which was a mystery to me. The hum of machinery was even louder than it had been before, and there were heavy shadows cloaking the far end of the room in darkness.

              The room I was standing in was entirely unfamiliar to me, and yet I seemed to know exactly where I was going.

              I approached the shadows at the back of the room.

              Behind one of the big cylindrical tanks, I could see the end of a bare foot poking out. I went closer and saw a second foot next to the first. A figure shrouded in shadow behind the tank then stood and took a step forward.

              Standing before me in the pale, flickering light was David Hutchins.

              Seeing him seemed to wake me up—as if I had been in a trance—and I stumbled backward in a sudden panic. I heard my own startled cry echoing in the room.

              David took another step toward me and held out a hand. I could see gray lips working in an even grayer face.

              I was just about to run from the room when one word was forced out from between the gray lips.

              "Please."

              I forced myself to stay where I was, and as I watched, the gray lips continued to work.

              "Please. Please don't go. I won't hurt you."

              The voice was hoarse and weak, and the hand that was held out to me trembled. I took a step closer.

              I looked up into the face before me, and I saw dark gray lines snaking and branching over the paler gray skin. There were deep lines of strain around the eyes, and the eyes themselves were full of suffering.

              "David?" I said. "David, do you remember me?"

              His face crumpled, and a low wail emerged from between his lips. Then he spoke.

              "I remember you."

              I took another step toward him. "Can I—do you—do you need help?"

              David shook his head slowly, and he spoke in a hoarse whisper.

              "No one can help me."

              I waited as the gray lips began to work once again.

              "I came here to help you," he said at last.

              "David," I said. "I've heard—that is, we all know you died. There are rumors that you're a—"

              I stopped. I couldn't make myself say the word.

              "Please don't be afraid," he said. "Please. It's true. I am what you think I am. But I'm too weak to hurt you or anyone else. And I don't want to."

              "What happened to you?" I asked.

              A tremor ran through David's body. "That's what he wanted, you know. He wanted me to catch you. He's a coward. That's why he wouldn't do it himself."

              "You're talking about the one who—did this to you?"

              "Yes. He said his name was Sebastian. He said we could get ahead of any others."

              "How did he do this you?" I asked.

              "I don't know. I remember leaving my house one night, and then nothing until I woke up on the stone floor. Sebastian was sitting next to me. He said he was going to teach me something—he said it was a 'call.'"

              David made a hoarse sound like a laugh. "He said I could use it on you."

              "Is that what you did?" I asked. "Is that why I came here?"

              "Yes," David said, his gray face crumpling once again. "I called you here. But I didn't do it for his reasons. I did it for mine. I'm not going to hurt anyone."

              "What does this Sebastian want with me?" I asked.

              "He said the others were afraid—of you," David replied. "He said he was afraid of you, too. But he said he was smart, even though he was scared. He said they were opening a tomb."

              David's brow wrinkled in concentration. "Or he said the tomb was opening itself. He said the one in the tomb would come after you—that he would catch you. But we would get to you first and catch you ourselves. And then we would be the ones rewarded."

              "Who was being released?" I asked.

              "I don't know. He never said the name."

              "Why does someone want to catch me?"

              "He said they all believe you're the ghost girl. He said you've been making them disappear."

              "I'm not the ghost girl."

              "I know," David said. "I told him that. I said you're just a girl from my school—you wouldn't hurt anybody. He laughed. He said he knew that. He said you were harmless—anybody could trap you. But he still wouldn't catch you himself. He said you had a powerful friend, but that he wouldn't suspect me. That's why I had to do it."

              "Were you the one who sent me the notes?" I asked. "
The dead travel fast
.
Your powers won't save you
?"

              "I never sent any notes," David said. "I couldn't figure out how to get to you—to warn you. I decided to come to school to find you. But I knew it would be locked."

              "You stole the car," I said. "You crashed it into the library."

              David gave a faint nod. "They came looking for me, but I hid down here. I knew if I waited till later I could try to call you. But I hoped it wouldn't take too long."

              He looked up at me. "I don't know how long I have left."

              Another tremor ran through his body, and I looked again at the horrible gray lines in his face. I knew a vampire's body had marvelous restorative powers—but David's body didn't appear to be healing itself.

              "Who put that stake in you, David?" I asked. "Was it someone we know?"

              "No. It was Sebastian. He took me to the carnival. He ordered me to catch you. But I wouldn't do it. So he drove that stake through my chest. He laughed. He said he'd stolen it from someone who should have known better. Then he said everyone was in for a big surprise and pushed me into that fountain."

              "How did you get out of the police station?" I asked. "And how did you get that car you crashed?"

              "I couldn't move after Sebastian stabbed me," David said. "I felt cold run all through my body. And then everything went dark. When I woke up, I was in a house. I went upstairs and found car keys. Then I just took the car that was sitting in the driveway."

              A violent tremor ran through David's body, and he doubled over.

              "Come with me," I said quickly. "Sebastian was right about one thing—I do have a powerful friend. We can help you. Maybe we can even cure you—"

              There was a sudden commotion on the stairs outside the boiler room, and the door flew open, slamming against the wall.

              "There's a girl here," cried a voice. "And there's a male with her."

              Several police officers crowded into the room.

              David's figure suddenly turned into a dark blur and flew across the room, knocking the police officers to the ground. One of them got up and came over to me, and the other two ran after David.

              I shouted after them to leave him alone, but then I realized it wasn't necessary.

              I doubted very much that they would be able to catch him.

Chapter 5.

As it turned out, I had been gone a lot longer than I'd realized.

              And when Mrs. Sara returned to her office and found I was missing, she had raised the alarm. The police officers that had remained on campus then put the school on lockdown and began to search for me.

              After they found me, I told the police that a runaway had come into the nurse's office, and that I had followed him and tried to convince him to seek help—it was the best story I could come up with at the moment—and one that seemed the least likely to incriminate David in any way. I also gave the police a description that was the opposite of what David looked like. I was still pretty sure they wouldn't catch him, but I wanted to give him all the help I could.

              I told the nurse I was feeling better—and I was. Now that the effects of David's call had worn off, I was back to normal again. I was allowed to go back to class and finish out the rest of the day.

              I waited impatiently for the day to end, and when the final bell rang, I rushed out to see William.

              He met me in the schoolyard, and we began to walk as if we were going to head for my house. But I stopped at a nearby bench instead.

              "I think we should both have a seat," I said. "I have a lot to tell you."

              "Unfortunately, I don't have a lot to tell you," William said, sitting down. "I didn't find Bryony's grandmother or David last night. I searched the whole town—including that cave. I didn't find anything."

              "Well, I found David," I said, perching on the bench. "Or to be more exact, he found me."

              William looked at me sharply.

              I told him about the car crashing into the school and about David's visit.

              When I was done, William sat back against the bench. "Well, you have had quite a day."

              He was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I was near the school this morning. And I never sensed David's presence. I don't know what's wrong."

              "At least we know who created him," I said. "And we know who staked him."

              "David didn't tell you anything about where this Sebastian was hiding?"

              "No—it wasn't always easy for him to talk. I think he did the best he could. I wonder, though—"

              "Wonder what?"

              "What David was doing at Ivan Neverov's house. That's where he must have been because he said he went upstairs and took the car that was sitting outside. And it was Ivan Neverov's car that he drove into the school. I wonder if Sebastian could be hiding out at the Neverov house."

              "I don't think so," William replied.

              "Why not?"

              "Because Sebastian tried to kill David. It wouldn't make any sense to drag his body back to that house if that's where Sebastian is hiding. Sebastian wanted to be rid of David."

              "That's true," I said. "But someone from the Neverov house has to come into it somehow—since David woke up there."

              "Not necessarily. David might have escaped from the police station on his own and then broken into the Neverov house. He said himself he didn't remember how he got there."

              "I suppose that's true, too," I said.

              William glanced at me. "You seem very concerned about the Neverovs."

              "Maybe I am. I don't know. It's just that—"

              "What?"

              "I thought I saw Maksim Neverov at the carnival on Sunday night."

              "Perhaps you did. He does have family here in Elspeth's Grove. Is there something about him that troubles you?"

              "I don't know," I said. My suspicions were really too half-formed for me to give voice to them. And as far as GM knew, he wasn't around—and she was one of the first people he would have contacted. I decided just to move on—Maksim was a minor point anyway.

              "What do you think about this tomb that David mentioned?" I asked. "Do you think that it has something to do with the Werdulac?"

              "As far as I know, the Werdulac's tomb still hasn't been found. It would be big news if it had been."

              "You did say it seemed like both the vampires and the hybrids were waiting for something."

              "I did say that."

              "Has there been—any movement on that front?"

              William shook his head. "The hybrids are still in hiding. And most vampires are still lying low."

              "Is there anything we can do to help David?"

              "I really don't know," William said. "I've never heard of anything like what's happened to him. What did he say about the stake again?"

              "He said Sebastian took it from someone who should have known better. Does that mean anything to you?"

              "No, it doesn't." William shook his head again. "I don't like this. I don't like any of this. But I am glad Sebastian is too cautious to do anything on his own. It gives me a better chance of keeping you safe."

              He glanced over at me. "Did you find out where your friend got the necklace from?"

              "No, I didn't," I said. "Today's events were a little unusual. I forgot to ask him."

              "Understandable," William said.

              "But I can ask you what you know about it," I said. "Don't you think it's about time you told me why you wanted it?"

              "Katie—"

              "I'm serious. I should know what's going on."

              William sighed. "All right. What I know really isn't much, though. I've seen a necklace just like it at Rusalka Castle."

              "At Rusalka?" I said, startled.

              "Yes. Do you remember it?"

              "The castle full of vampires in Russia? It would be hard for me to forget it."

              "Of course. Well, under the castle there are strong rooms full of—treasures—for lack of a better word. They call it the Vaults. There are ancient weapons and jewelry and all other sorts of artifacts. I saw an emerald necklace like the one I have now in the Vaults once. It dates all the way back to the Werdulac's era."

              "It what?" I said.

              "According to Anton, the necklace in the Vaults comes from the time of the Werdulac," William said. "I sent a photo of my necklace to him and told him that I thought I'd seen one like it there. He confirmed that the two pieces appear to be identical."

              "So what does that mean?" I asked.

              William shrugged. "So far as I know it doesn't mean anything. But it is very strange for a necklace like this to be in this part of the world, and even stranger for it to turn up at a high school carnival. You don't expect to find ancient Russian artifacts here in the suburbs."

              "Does it have any special properties?" I asked.

              "Not that I know of. The one in the Vaults has been there for ages, and it's never demonstrated that it's anything other than a necklace."

              "And now we have not one but two of them," I said. "I guess I'd better get as much information as I can from Simon."

              "And I'll have to go back to scouring the town," William said. "I'll search the Neverov house, too, just in case. There must be something I'm missing. Of course, I don't like the idea of leaving you unprotected at night while I search. Maybe I should finish the search early and then stand guard over your house."

              "We may both have something else to do," I said.

              "What do you mean?"

              I told William about Bryony's plan for contacting the ghost.

              "Would you like to come with me tonight?" I asked. "You might be able to sense something that Bryony and I can't."

              William thought for a moment. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. I doubt we'll actually find anything, but I don't really have any better ideas at the moment."

              "You really think it's that hopeless?" I said. "The ghost sent me a message once about the Werdulac. It was at least trying to help."

              "No—it's not hopeless. It's worth a try. It's just that ghosts can be—elusive."

              "That's what Bryony said," I replied. "She did say she couldn't promise anything."

              "Well, I'll go with you just the same," William said with a small smile. "What time are you heading over there?"

              We fixed up a time to meet that night, and then William walked me home. As I went into the house, I was stunned to find GM moving swiftly around the living room. I stood and watched as her feet skimmed the floor lightly, and she held out her arms as if she had an invisible partner.

              GM was dancing.

              She turned suddenly, and her dance came to an abrupt halt. She dropped her arms.

              "Katie! You're home early."

              I was actually home a little later than usual, but I decided not to mention it.

              "You look happy," I said.

              "Happy?" GM looked startled. "I can assure you that I am not happy. That is to say that I am quite happy—but no more so than usual. I was just thinking that maybe we could rearrange the furniture in here."

              "You were thinking about the furniture?" I said.

              "Yes," she replied. "Let's go into the kitchen. You look like you could use a snack."

              I let GM lead the way, and she got to work quickly, rattling plates and silverware. Soon she set a plate of cut-up fruit and peanut butter crackers in front of me.

              Then she sat down across from me and gave me a long look.

              "GM, did you want to talk about something?"

              She jumped up quickly. "You know, I believe you could use some milk."

              GM went to the refrigerator and returned a few moments later with a glass of milk for me.

              "Thanks," I said.

              GM resumed her seat and also resumed staring at me. After a moment she began to pepper me with questions.

              "You are doing well in school?"

              "Yes."

              "In all your classes?"

              "Yes."

              "Social Studies?"

              "Yes."

              "Are you getting along with your teachers?"

              "Yes. GM, you're making me feel uncomfortable. Is something bothering you?"

              She shifted uneasily. "I need to go out this evening. I hope you do not mind."

              "Of course I don't mind," I said.

              "It's just that I am so seldom gone in the evenings."

              "It's really fine," I said. I didn't mention that I would be going out myself.

              "I should be back before you go to bed."

              I was happy to hear that—it would be awkward if GM was coming back just when I wanted to sneak out. William and I had settled on 1:00 a.m., and I usually went to bed around ten, so it sounded like we would have plenty of time.

              "You truly do not mind?" GM asked.

              'No," I said. "I'm glad you're going out. I hope it's something fun."

              I waited to see if GM would give me any more details—I knew that she was unlikely to answer me if I asked any direct questions. But as usual, she remained tight-lipped.

              "Good." GM rose. "That is settled then. I have to go upstairs now and—do a few things."

              "Okay," I said.

              She left the room, and I was left to wonder what she could possibly be up to.

              After dinner, GM left the house with a designer leather satchel whose round sides announced that it contained more than a few items. I wondered what she needed all the extra things for.

              After I'd watched her car disappear down the road, I went upstairs to take a nap—I didn't know how long our activities would take tonight, and I wanted to be clear-minded in case anything did happen.

              I woke up some time later, roused by the sounds of GM returning home, and as I sat up, I seemed to see stars before my eyes—both above and below me. As I looked around my dark room, the stars faded, and I thought I heard a whisper.

              I had a feeling that I was missing something, but I brushed it off and went downstairs. I was very curious about GM's evening.

              I found her in the kitchen, setting down her purse and satchel—and she looked oddly deflated.