Ignis (Book 2, Pure Series) (42 page)

           
"How are we going to get all of this stuff to Krov?" I asked.

           
GM waved a dismissive hand.
 
"I have rented a car to drive us—a much better car than we had on our last trip.
 
It will be no problem for us."

           
We rested a little while at the hotel, and then GM had us dress up in some of our new clothes so we could head out to a fashionable restaurant for dinner.
 
The restaurant was beautiful, the crowd was well dressed, and the food was delicious, but I was growing anxious again, and despite my best efforts, I was distracted.

           
The trip to Krov was almost upon us, and I was overcome once more by the terrible feeling that I was going to die there.
 
Seeing the icon of the Werdulac at the Kremlin had only deepened my fear.
 
Now that I knew that he—whatever he was—was known in Russia, I realized that coming on this trip truly was a mistake.
 
The Werdulac had appeared to me in the Old Grove for a reason—he had drawn me to him there.
 
Surely here it would be even easier for him to get to me.
 
I wrapped my fingers around the iron charm William had given me.
 
I wondered if it had any power to repel the Werdulac.

           
After dinner, GM surprised me by taking me to a nightspot named Serebro that was even more fashionable than the restaurant had been.
 
I was unsure if the massive bouncer at the door was going to let us in or not, but GM looked fabulous and was, as usual, supremely confident as she addressed him, and we sailed in as easily as if we had been regulars.

           
As GM and I settled in at a clear, tiny table, lit from below, I looked around.
 
The crowd inside was definitely hip, and there was a palpable atmosphere of wealth.
 
I was not drinking, of course, and neither was GM, and the pretty waitress who attended us raised an eyebrow at our decidedly innocent order.

           
"Are you sure we belong here?" I whispered to GM.

           
She looked at me in surprise.
 
"Of course we do, Solnyshko.
 
I am a Rost and you are too.
 
I have been to places much more sophisticated than this."

           
"Places like what?"

           
GM shrugged.
 
"It is not important at the moment.
 
Right now we should just have fun.
 
Now is the time to relax."

           
I wondered again about the life that GM had led in Russia before I was born—there were hints, shadows—nothing concrete, nothing I could really grasp solidly, and nothing GM would actually tell me about outright.

           
I sipped on my cranberry juice and club soda and wished I knew what was going on with her.

           
GM eventually pulled me onto the dance floor, and despite my gloom, I began to have a good time.

           
GM and I returned to our hotel at a respectable enough hour, and tired out from shopping, dancing, and worrying, I fell asleep right away.

           
I awoke in the early hours of the morning, to see GM standing in our darkened room with her hands on her hips, surveying our luggage.
 
Somehow, magically, she had packed up all our new things, and we appeared to be ready to go.
 
The only suitcase that was still standing open was one of mine—I had a feeling it had everything in it that I would need to get ready for the day.

           
"Good morning, Katie.
 
Did you sleep well?"

           
I pushed my hair away from my face.
 
"Yes, thanks.
 
Is it time to go already?"

           
"We should leave as soon as possible.
 
Do you mind if we have breakfast on the road?"

           
"No, I don't mind," I replied.

           
"I will go downstairs and have breakfast boxed up for us then.
 
Please try to be ready by the time I get back."

           
GM left the room, and I couldn't help sighing to myself.
 
GM was clearly in a hurry—and I was suddenly hit by a strong sense of dread.

           
I remembered then the newspaper I had found in Red Square.
 
I quickly grabbed my shower stuff and my bag.
 
Then I locked myself in the bathroom.

           
I was a little slower at reading in Russian than I was at speaking it, and I poured over the paper carefully, looking for the story that had upset GM on the previous morning.
 
It was possible, of course, that she had reacted to something that I knew nothing about—after all, her past in Russia was much longer than mine.
 
But GM would typically talk to me about neutral topics—she was only completely silent when the subject was something she thought would upset me.

           
I was beginning to think I was wrong about what GM must have seen in the newspaper when I spotted the word 'Krov.'
 
Right above it was an ominous headline:
 
Ghoulish Grave Robbers Plague Small Town
.
 
What followed was a story about a rash of thefts from area cemeteries—more specifically, graves had been opened and the bodies had been stolen from them.
 
There was a rather lurid description of empty, yawning graves and sobbing, frightened families discovering that their loved ones' remains had been taken.
 
A wave of fear washed over me as I read on.
 
Amongst the plundered graves was the crypt of the Mstislav family.
 
Though other bodies had been left undisturbed, the body of Timofei Mstislav had been stolen.
 
The article went on to note that before his recent death, Timofei Mstislav had been wanted for kidnapping and murder.
 
Authorities had no motive for the robberies.

           
The newspaper slid from my fingers to the floor, but I was only dimly aware of it.
 
When he was alive, Timofei Mstislav had come after me, intending to kill me in retribution for my mother's imprisonment of his cursed father.
 
He was dead now—I knew that for a fact.

           
But I also knew that the dead could come back.

           
I heard GM come back into our room, and I hurriedly turned on the water.
 
I forced myself to shower and dress quickly.
 
Then I gathered up my things and placed my hand on the doorknob.

           
I didn't know if I could walk through the door.

           
I wanted to hide myself away forever.
 
What could I tell GM that would make her turn back?
 
Maybe I could get GM to agree to stay in Moscow for the duration of our trip.
 
A chill spread through me as I realized that GM already knew that Timofei Mstislav's body had been stolen, and she still wanted to go on.

           
She was taking me right back to him.

           
Of course, GM didn't believe in the supernatural.
 
She didn't believe that Timofei's father Gleb had been resurrected as a kost, or that he had stalked the living until he had been wrestled back into his tomb—and back into quiet death.

           
She thought Timofei could do no more harm now that he was dead.

           
And I realized that there was no way I could hide from him anyway.
 
In October Timofei and Gleb left Russia and had found me in Elspeth's Grove.
 
And now according to the paper, Timofei was out of his grave.
 
If somehow he returned to an unnatural life, he could certainly find me in Moscow.

           
A cold, heavy feeling settled on me—I might as well go to Krov.
 
Whatever was waiting for me there couldn't be avoided now.

           
It would come for me no matter where I went.

           
I pulled the door open and stepped out into the room.

           
GM turned.
 
"Good.
 
You are ready.
 
Breakfast has been packed up for us."
 
She gestured toward the dresser where two paper bags and two paper cups sat.
 
She turned back to me.
 
"You should—"

           
She took a step forward.
 
"What's wrong, Solnyshko?"

           
I held the newspaper out.
 
"Why didn't you tell me?"

           
"What do you mean?"

           
"I saw you reading the newspaper yesterday, and one of the stories shocked you.
 
But you wouldn't tell me what it was.
 
I know now what you saw."

           
"Oh, Katie.
 
You saw the article about—"

           
"The grave robberies in Krov," I said.
 
"The article that says Timofei Mstislav's body was stolen.
 
Doesn't that sound like something that I should know about?"

           
GM was suddenly unnervingly calm.
 
"I don't see why."

           
"What?"

           
"I don't see how it affects you."

           
"How could it not affect me?" I asked.
 
"He nearly killed me."

           
"But he is dead now himself," GM said reasonably.
 
"It is disturbing that his body has been taken from its proper resting place.
 
But Timofei Mstislav no longer has the power to hurt you.
 
The news affects his family, I am sure, but it is nothing to do with us."

           
"I can't believe how calm you are about this," I said, my voice shaking.
 
"I can't believe you think I should have no feelings about this at all."

           
GM's expression softened.
 
"I have upset you now, and that is not what I intended.
 
Yes, of course, this affects you.
 
It must bring back terrible memories—memories that are all the more terrible because they are recent.
 
I had hoped you wouldn't find out.
 
Not just to spare you the memories, but also because—"

           
She stopped.

           
"Because?" I prompted.

           
"Because of the things you said at the time," GM replied.
 
"Because of the strange things that happened—things that were hard to explain.
 
Because, like your mother, you seemed to believe in the supernatural—at least while all of that was going on.
 
I didn't want to stir up ideas in your mind."

           
GM gave me a serious look.
 
"I didn't want you to start to thinking that something supernatural was going on.
 
I didn't want you to think, as your mother once did, that a dead man could come back to life."

           
Unfortunately, that's exactly what I did believe.
 
As GM continued to look at me, I found that I could summon up no words of comfort for her.

           
"I'm sure everything will be fine," I said at last.

           
"Oh, Katie.
 
I can see that you don't mean that."

           
GM brushed a soothing hand over my hair.
 
"We will have a good Christmas.
 
You have nothing to fear.
 
As I told you once, there is nothing in the dark.
 
Now, quickly, pack the rest of your things up.
 
We need to be on our way."

           
I did as she asked, and then, with the help of several hotel employees, we got all of our luggage out of the hotel and into our rental car.

           
"I may have to ship some of these things home," GM murmured as we settled in.

           
Despite my new worries, my spirits had lifted a little when I'd seen the rental car GM had selected.
 
I didn't know much about cars, but I could tell that this was a high-performance vehicle—it reminded me a lot of the one she had at home, except this one was a bright, blazing purple.

           
If there was one thing GM really loved, it was speed.