Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series) (17 page)

           
Simon couldn't know that his suspicions were unfounded.

           
Simon sighed heavily.
 
"The dinner can't possibly have gone well."

           
"It did."

           
Simon gave me a level stare.
 
"You're telling me that your grandmother likes this drifter without any doubts or misgivings, and that nothing he said or did during dinner gave her pause?"

           
"Simon—"

           
"Just answer the question, Katie."

           
"GM is letting me see him."

           
"That's not what I asked."

           
I looked away.

           
"Katie?" Simon prompted.

           
I looked back at him.
 
"GM is not one hundred percent sure of him."

           
"Thank you for admitting that."

           
"But it's not for the reasons that you think.
 
She doesn't think he's a 'drifter'."

           
"Then what are her reasons?"

           
Simon continued to look at me steadily, and I found I didn't know how to answer him.

           
"She thinks—"

           
I stopped.

           
"Yes?" Simon said.

           
I shook my head.
 
"Simon, any concerns GM has don't matter.
 
What matters is that she's letting me see William.
 
If she really mistrusted him, she wouldn't do that."

           
"Unless she was afraid you'd see him behind her back.
 
This way she gets to keep an eye on you."

           
I shot Simon an angry glance—I really resented his tone.
 
And yet, I
had
been seeing William without GM's knowledge.

           
Even so, GM had had nothing to worry about.

           
"Why are you so sure William's a terrible person?" I demanded.
 
"Why are you so sure that GM dislikes him?

Simon ignored my questions, and he countered with one of his own.

           
"I asked this before, but you still haven't actually answered it.
 
What really happened last night?"

           
I sighed in exasperation.
 
"William brought sparkling apple juice.
 
We had orecchiette.
 
William left.
 
That's what happened."

           
"He didn't try to get you to follow him out to his shack in the woods?"

           
"No," I said firmly.

           
It was funny how little Simon understood about William.
 
He had been unwilling to let me know where his house was—let alone try to lure me to it.

           
It was Simon's turn to look angry.
 
"Well, it may interest you to know what your friend was up to last night after he left you."

           
"What do you mean?" I asked.

           
"Another girl was attacked last night, like Annamaria was—her neck and shoulder torn up and bloody.
 
She's in the hospital now, but she'll be all right."

           
A ripple of shock ran through me.
 
"Who was it?"

           
"I don't know the girl's name," Simon said.
 
"She's from another school district.
 
Travis Ballenski told me.
 
His dad's a—"

           
"A cop," I said.
 
"I know."

           
"The police found her wandering around in the Old Grove.
 
They also found your friend what's-his-name nearby.
 
Apparently, he was having an argument with two other men—probably they're all in this together."

           
"Two other men?" I asked sharply.
 
That had to mean Anton and Innokenti.
 
"Do you happen to know what they looked like?"

           
"No," Simon said, "they took off when they saw the cops.
 
Your friend stuck around and answered some questions."

           
"So William cooperated with the police," I said.
 
"Just like any innocent person would."

           
Simon rubbed a hand over his hair.
 
"Katie, you're impossible.
 
This William guy is found at the scene of an attack, and you make excuses for him."

           
"I haven't made any excuses," I protested.
 
"Innocent people cooperate.
 
William cooperated."

           
"Unless he's just that bold," Simon said.
 
"Killers have bluffed their way out of trouble before."

           
"No one has died," I said.
 
"And William's not guilty.
 
If anything, he probably tried to help the girl."

           
I stopped abruptly, realizing that that was probably exactly what had happened.
 
Anton or Innokenti had attacked the girl.
 
William had shown up just in time.

           
"Amazing," Simon said.
 
"Absolutely amazing.
 
The way you can just twist facts around until they mean what you want them to mean."

           
"I haven't twisted anything," I said.
 
"I know William, and you don't."

           
Simon stood up.
 
"Fine.
 
I give up.
 
But watch yourself.
 
Be very careful.
 
I really care about you, Katie, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

           
He picked up his backpack.
 
"I've got to get to homeroom."

           
I watched as Simon walked out of the cafeteria.
 
A moment later, the warning bell rang, and I rose also.
 
As I made my way out with the rest of the students, I felt someone plucking on my sleeve.

           
I turned to see Bryony walking beside me.

           
She tucked a lock of light brown hair behind her ear, and smiled at me shyly.

           
"Hi, Katie."

           
"Hi."

           
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said, "but I have something to tell you.
 
My grandmother told me it was important."

           
"You're not bothering me, Bryony."

           
I felt eyes on me, and I glanced around.
 
Irina was following behind us, glaring at both of us.

           
I turned back to Bryony.
 
"You can tell me anything you want."

           
A faint blush crept up Bryony's cheek, and she bit her lip.
 
"It's a little strange."

           
"That's okay," I said.
 
"I've gotten used to strange things."

           
Bryony hesitated for a moment, and then plunged ahead in her quiet voice.
 
"My grandmother lives in the Old Grove.
 
She has a ghost in her house.
 
I know you heard me say so once in class."

           
Bryony glanced at me, and I nodded.

           
She continued.
 
"My grandmother told me the ghost has a message for you.
 
She—the ghost that is—she's worried about you and wants you to be careful."

           
I was startled.
 
"The ghost has a message for me?"

           
"Yes."

           
"What's the message?" I asked.

           
"The ghost said, 'Don't let him sing to her.'"

           
"'Don't let him sing to her'?
 
'Her' meaning me?"

           
"That's right," Bryony said.

           
"Who is 'he'?" I asked.

           
Bryony looked rueful.
 
"I don't know that—I'm sorry.
 
My grandmother said ghosts aren't very good communicators.
 
But she also said that if they make an effort to contact you that it's important to listen."

           
"And you're sure the 'her' the ghost mentioned was me?"

           
"Yes.
 
My grandmother has saved every issue of the
Elspeth's Grove Gazette
she's ever received—she has decades and decades' worth of newspapers.
 
She said the ghost flipped through her newspapers till she came to that story they ran about the three of you who were held captive by Mr. Hightower in Russia.
 
The ghost stopped on a picture of you."

           
The image that rose up in my mind at Bryony's words made me shiver.

           
"Was that the entire message?" I asked.

           
"Yes."

           
I was stunned by Bryony's news—but I didn't doubt her.
 
I knew that Bryony was sincere—she certainly wasn't playing a trick on me.
 
And having a ghost send me a message was no odder than any of the other supernatural things that had happened to me in the last few months.

           
"Thanks for telling me, Bryony," I said, feeling more than a little light-headed.

           
"You don't think I'm crazy?" Bryony asked.

           
"No—I don't think you're crazy.
 
I appreciate your giving me the message.
 
Please tell your grandmother thanks too.
 
I'll try to be careful."

           
Bryony gave me another shy smile and moved off into the crowd.

           
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Irina walking just behind me.

           
"Stay away from my friend," she hissed, her dark eyes flashing.

           
She stormed off, and I walked to homeroom, scanning the crowd.
 
I didn't have time to dwell on the fact that Irina had found a new reason to be angry with me.
 
I had to keep an eye out for William.
 
As usual, I had no idea when he would appear.

           
I didn't see William on the way to homeroom, and I didn't see him on the way to first-period Social Studies.
 
For the most part, I listened attentively to the lecture and took notes.
 
But I couldn't help thinking back to Bryony's ghostly message.

           
Who could 'he' be?
 
Did the ghost mean Anton or Innokenti?

           
Was one of them going to lure me back to Russia?

           
I wondered if William knew about the ghost.
 
Since he lived in the Old Grove now, too, maybe they had run across each other.

           
I didn't see William on the way to second-period English, either, and though I knew there was plenty of time left in the day, I began to feel uneasy.
 
I really hoped I would see him before lunch.

           
In English class, however, I was met by an unusual sight—Branden was the only one in the classroom, apart from the teacher, Mrs. Swinburne, and he was standing by my desk.

           
"Katie, where is she?" Branden whispered as I walked up to him.
 
He shot a glance over at Mrs. Swinburne—Branden was not her favorite student, and she had given him quite a few detentions—often for reasons that seemed to bewilder him.
 
I wasn't surprised that he didn't want her to overhear him.

           
"You mean Charisse, right?" I asked.

           
"Of course I mean Charisse.
 
I've called and texted her about a million times, but she doesn't answer.
 
I called her mom, too, and got through to her once.
 
She doesn't know where Charisse is, and she doesn't seem to care.
 
I've called her again and again, but she doesn't answer now, either.
 
Katie, what kind of mother stops answering her phone when her daughter is missing?"