Pure (Book 1, Pure Series) (13 page)

           
"Anyone can make up a name," I said.
 
"How do I know you aren't Gleb?"

           
"Because I am here to kill him," William said.

           
"My grandmother told me he's already dead."

           
"He is."

           
I felt a chill steal over me.
 
"How can you kill someone who's already dead?"

           
"That's not something you need to worry about."

           
"If he's already dead," I said, "is he a ghost?"

           
"No."

           
"Then what is he?"

           
"That's not something you need to worry about, either."

           
I looked down.
 
"You're still holding my wrist," I said.

           
His hand moved, and he wrapped his fingers around mine.
 
His skin was warm, and his palm pleasantly callused.
 
I felt a tingle run through me where his fingers touched.

           
"Tell me more about your visions," William said.

           
It was a difficult subject to start in on.
 
I felt strangely light-headed.
 
"I saw you in the bathroom mirror."

           
William's lips twitched into a half-smile.
 
"I
was
in the girls bathroom."

           
"I saw you before that – in the mirror in my bathroom here at home.
 
You were standing behind me.
 
When I turned around, you weren't there.
 
I saw you again in the side mirror of my grandmother's car.
 
And in a TV screen.
 
I even saw your face in a glass of milk.
 
I kept seeing you everywhere."

           
"And what did you think?" he asked quietly.

           
"It was scary, at first."

           
"And now?"

           
"Not so much.
 
You're different in person."

           
I thought I saw a reddish tinge suffuse William's face, but in the dim light, I couldn't be entirely certain.

           
"You mentioned your mother," William said.
 
"You said she had visions of Gleb.
 
Why didn't you ask her to describe him?
 
Gleb and I are nothing alike.
 
I'm sure she could have told you that."

           
I wasn't used to talking about my mother much, but I felt like it was important to tell William what had happened to her.
 
"My mother died years ago.
 
I'd always been told she died of a fever.
 
But Galina said a man killed her.
 
She didn't say the name – but tonight GM – that's what I call my grandmother – GM told me that Galina believes Gleb was the man responsible."

           
William frowned, and his face took on the same harsh lines that I had seen when he'd first appeared in my mirror.

           
"I don't want to alarm you," he said,"but I have to tell you the truth.
 
Your life may be in danger.
 
Promise me you won't go anywhere alone at night.
 
You're safe enough during the day, but at night you need to be very, very careful."

           
The tone of his voice made me shiver.
 
"What do you mean I'm in danger?"

           
He shook his head.
 
"I can't tell you.
 
I've got to go now.
 
But you'll see me again."

           
William was still holding my hand.
 
He began to pull me back toward the house.
 
"You should go inside now."

           
I followed him, but I was strangely unwilling to let him go.
 
"You know, your not telling me anything won't really make me less anxious."

           
"You wouldn't believe me, even if I could tell you."

           
We walked up to the door.

           
"I'll stay until I see the door close behind you," William said.

           
I turned to open the door.

           
"Wait just a moment," he said.

           
I turned back.

           
"You summoned me here thinking I might be the person who killed your mother."

           
"Yes," I said.

           
"Why?" he asked.
 
"Why would you do something like that?"

           
"I called you because I didn't want it to be true."

           
A smile twitched at one corner of his lips.

           
I was still thinking of that half smile of his when I fell asleep that night.

Chapter 6.

I walked to school on Thursday morning in a troubled frame of mind.

           
If I believed what William had told me, then there was a dead man named Gleb Mstislav wandering around out there, and he might even be after me.
 
I shivered inside my coat as I realized that I did, in fact, believe him.

           
So what did Gleb want?
 
And had he really killed my mother?

           
And what of William himself?
 
I didn't know who he was – apart from his name.
 
I didn't know how he had been able to hear me calling him – or how had he gotten to me so quickly.
 
I did know that I wanted to see him again.
 
He'd said that I would.
 
I hoped it would be soon.

           
As I drew closer to school, my thoughts turned to Charisse.
 
I wondered what type of reception I would receive when I saw her.
 
I had a feeling that she would still be furious.
 
Suddenly I felt a brief flash of panic.
 
I wondered if Charisse and Branden would have eloped yet.
 
I really hoped they hadn't.

           
I walked into the schoolyard and realized with a sinking heart that I need not have worried about what sort of reception I would receive from Charisse.
 
I could see quite clearly that the picnic table Charisse had staked out since the beginning of the year was empty.

           
A familiar blond-haired figure with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans kicked at the ground nearby.
 
His back was to me, and his head was down.

           
I walked over to him.
 
"Hey Simon."

           
Simon turned and looked at me.
 
I was shocked by the way he looked.
 
There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was pale.
 
He was clearly miserable.

           
"Simon, what's wrong?" I asked.

           
A muscle worked in his jaw, and it was a moment before he answered.
 
He grated out one word.

           
"James."

           
"Maybe it's just another misunderstanding," I said quickly.
 
"Maybe there's a good explanation."

           
Simon shook his head, and his face contorted as if he were in pain.
 
"It's not the police this time.
 
It's James himself.
 
He's gone."

           
"Gone?
 
You mean he ran away from home?"

           
Simon shook his head again and looked down at his feet.
 
"He was taken."

           
I frowned.
 
"Taken?
 
What do you mean he was taken?"

           
Simon looked up at the sky.
 
"Look, I don't expect you to believe this, but our house was attacked last night – just a little past eleven.
 
James was out on the mud porch at the back of the house.
 
He goes out there with his laptop sometimes – for the wireless reception.
 
So, I was up in my room, and I heard this serious crashing and screaming downstairs.
 
I ran down to find out what was going on, and I found my mom and dad staring out into the mud porch.
 
The back door had been torn clean off its hinges, and James was gone.
 
I ran outside, but I couldn't see him anywhere.
 
I ran into the woods behind our house, but I couldn't find any sign of him.
 
Then I went back home.
 
In the meantime, my parents had called the police—"

           
Simon broke off, and he stood for several moments not saying anything.
 
Then he looked at me.

           
"Somebody took my brother, Katie.
 
Somebody took him.
 
Some freak broke into our house and dragged him into the forest.
 
Who would do that?"

           
I felt a chill run through me.
 
"Oh, Simon, I'm so sorry," I said.

           
"The police said they have no leads.
 
They even think some of James's former friends might have come after him, or helped him to stage this.
 
But Katie, you didn't hear those screams.
 
Something really wrong happened last night – there was nothing normal about it."

           
"Why didn't you call me?" I asked.

           
"I couldn't do that to you," Simon said.
 
"I wanted you to sleep.
 
Besides, there was nothing you could have done."

           
"You should have called me anyway," I said.
 
"And why did you come to school today?
 
You really should have stayed home."

           
Simon shook his head.
 
"It's better to be at school.
 
Both of my parents are at work, anyway.
 
I didn't want to be home alone.
 
Sitting around doing nothing wouldn't do anyone any good.
 
I know my parents will call me the second they hear something."

           
It was hard for me to see the pain in Simon's face.
 
"Simon you know that if there's anything I can do—"

           
Simon interrupted.
 
"You're doing me a world of good.
 
Just by being near me."

           
We stood in silence for a moment, and I thought over everything Simon had told me.

           
"Simon, you don't think the police could be right, do you?" I asked.
 
"Maybe some of James's old friends came after him?"

           
"Not a chance.
 
I can understand why you would ask, though.
 
But James
is
different.
 
He's severed his old ties.
 
And he told me that he doesn't owe anybody anything.
 
He said he made right with everybody.
 
And I really believe he did."

           
Simon's voice trailed off.

           
He went on in a rush.
 
"But you know what?
 
This does remind me of what Branden told us yesterday."

           
"What was that?" I asked.
 
The only thing I could think of was Branden and Charisse's impending wedding, but it didn't seem very likely that that was what Simon was referring to.
 
Then I wondered if he knew about it.
 
Surely, they had told him?

           
Simon noticed my hesitation and gave me a wry smile.
 
"Don't worry.
 
I know about Branden and Charisse's crazy marriage plan.
 
Branden told me yesterday after school.
 
What I was thinking of was something he said earlier in the day.
 
Do you remember what said at lunch?
 
About Mr. Del Gatto?"

           
"Yes.
 
Branden said he'd heard that Mr. Del Gatto had disappeared."

           
Simon nodded urgently.
 
"He also said that someone had pulled his door off its hinges.
 
That's the same thing that happened at our house."

           
"I don't quite understand," I said.
 
"You think someone is going around kidnapping grown or nearly grown men?"

           
"I haven't seen Mr. Del Gatto around recently, have you?" Simon asked grimly.

           
"I had wondered about Mr. Del Gatto, too," I replied.
 
"But Mr. Hightower said Mr. Del Gatto would be out for a few days.
 
He already knew the absences were coming, so Mr. Del Gatto must be in contact with the school.
 
Maybe his house just got broken into and vandalized while he's out sick or hospitalized or whatever it is that's taken him away from school."