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

           
I backed away from the ice.

           
William was standing right behind me, and I bumped into him.

           
"Are you all right?" he asked.
 
He took my arm, and we stepped away from the gate.

           
"There's something out there—under the ice," I said.
 
"I can see—things."

           
"Those are just shadows," William said reassuringly.
 
"It's nothing to worry about.
 
The ice can play tricks on your eyes if you're not used to it.
 
You'll adjust."

           
I looked again.
 
The strange shapes I'd seen had disappeared.
 
Maybe William was right—maybe I had just seen shadows.
 
I decided once again to shrug off my fears.

           
"Go on out, Katie," William said.
 
"Don't worry.
 
I'll be right here to catch you if you fall."

           
"You're
sure
you're a good skater?" I asked.
 
I had asked William about that when I'd first suggested that we come to the rink.

           
"Yes, I'm sure I'm a good skater," William replied.

           
"How do you know?" I asked.

           
"I came out here a few days ago—it turns out I'm good at it."

           
"You didn't tell me you'd been out here already." I said.

           
"I thought it looked like fun, and I wanted to bring you here," William said, smiling.
 
"So, of course, I had to test it out for myself.
 
I had no idea that you'd suggest it on your own before I got a chance to ask you."

           
"Where did you learn how to skate?" I asked.

           
Pain flashed in William's eyes, and his smile faded.

           
I immediately wished I hadn't asked the question.
 
Silently, I berated myself for my thoughtlessness.

           
"I'm sorry," I said.
 
"I shouldn't have asked."

           
"It's not your fault," William replied ruefully.
 
"I just wish I could answer you."

           
I felt a rush of feeling for him that was far more profound than sympathy—William had been through something I couldn't begin to fathom.
 
His memories of his past life had been taken from him.
 
He had little idea of who he truly was.

           
He had been left with just enough to let him know what he had lost.

           
William had his recent memories, of course—there was nothing wrong with his short-term memory—but his memories of his life before he had been changed were gone.
 
And it wasn't amnesia or any kind of human ailment that he suffered from.
 
William was not, in fact, human.

           
I wrapped my arms around him and leaned against him.

           
William rested his chin on the top of my head and pulled me closer.

           
I wanted very much for William to be happy.
 
But I knew that peace of mind was something he struggled to find.
 
Such a thing was hard for him—he believed himself to be permanently and irreparably damaged.

           
There was more laughter from the ice rink, and I looked around.
 
Out on the ice there were parents helping their young children, older children racing each other, smiling couples holding hands.
 
Everything seemed so normal and down-to-earth.
 
I wanted to join them.

           
I wanted to be one of the normal ones.

           
"I think I'm ready to go out on the ice now," I said, though I was reluctant to leave the circle of William's arms.

           
"That's too bad," William replied, brushing his fingers over my cheek.
 
"I was just thinking that I wouldn't mind standing here like this all day."

           
We walked back to the gate, and I stood staring out over the ice with my hands resting on the wall on either side of me.
 
People skated past me at what suddenly seemed like alarming speed.
 
I told myself I would be fine as long as I didn't see any more dark shapes in the ice.

           
"Like I said, I'll be right here to catch you," William murmured.

           
I waited till the way was clear, and then I put first one foot, and then the other out onto the ice.
 
Almost immediately I began to slip.
 
I grabbed frantically for the wall, catching it just in time to prevent myself from falling.

           
I clung to the wall, my heart pounding.

           
William glided around to my side and leaned against the wall, his lips twitching suspiciously.

           
"You're laughing at me," I said.

           
"No, no I'm not," William said, but his smile grew broader.
 
"I'm not laughing at you, really."

           
I continued to cling to the wall, and William continued to smile at me.

           
"So, what do I do?" I asked, after my panic had subsided a little.
 
"I don't actually know how to move now."

           
William pushed away from the wall and stood easily on the ice, looking at me with amusement.
 
I noticed with some irritation that his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

           
Over the next hour—with William's help, and with much stumbling on my part—I managed to make it all the way around the rink several times.
 
I even managed to let go of the wall.
 
We kept going, and eventually, I raised my head and looked around.
 
I realized I was moving along with everyone else on the ice and having a good time.

           
William gave me his crooked smile.
 
"You're glad you did this now, aren't you?"

           
I could feel the cold air nipping at my cheeks, but the rest of me was comfortably warm.
 
And William was beside me.

           
"Yes," I said quietly.
 
"I'm happy I did this.
 
And I don't just mean the ice-skating."

           
William bowed his head, so I wouldn't see his expression, but I could tell he knew what I meant.

           
William and I were together now, but it had not been easy to get to this point—and we had not been together for very long.
 
But even though we were officially a couple, he kept limits on our time together.
 
I still didn't know very much about him, and that included the things he could tell me.

           
I didn't even know where he lived.

           
But he was here now—and that was all that mattered to me.

           
When William and I were done out on the ice, we went into the skate house and sat down on the benches to unlace our skates.

           
I could feel William's eyes on me, and I looked up at him.
 
There was something forlorn in his expression.

           
"You don't want me to go, do you?" I said.

           
"No."
 
His voice was quiet.

           
"We
can
spend more time together, you know."

           
"No, we can't."
 
William was suddenly stern.
 
"We have to limit our time together.
 
No matter how much I wish things were different."

           
"Because you think you're cursed," I said.

           
"I
am
cursed," he replied.
 
"All I can do is savor the time I have with you before you find someone of your own kind."

           
"My own kind," I said, shaking my head.
 
What was my kind exactly?
 
William insisted on seeing me as a normal girl.

           
But I was far from normal.

           
To any outside observer I would simply be Katie Wickliff, a sixteen-year-old student at Elspeth's Grove High School—an ordinary, very average girl.

           
But my family had a past—one that I hadn't even known about until recently—one that was both strange and incredible.

           
And my heritage would forever mark me as different.

           
The two of us put our shoes on and walked out into the cold.
 
I was warm from my recent exertions, but a gust of wind kicked up, and I shivered.
 
William put his arm around me.

           
We left the rink and entered the woods nearby.
 
Another shudder ran through me as I thought once again of the fact that I didn't know where William lived.
 
What if he had no home?
 
What if he slept outside in the frozen night?
 
Of course, I didn't know if William ever actually
had
to sleep.
 
And I didn't know if he felt the cold—though somehow I doubted that he did.
 
But I still didn't like the idea of William's not having a proper home.

           
"William, why won't you tell me where you live?" I asked.

           
"Because you don't need to know."

           
I felt frustration welling up within me—William always gave me that same answer whenever I asked him anything about himself.
 
I knew today would be no different, but I suddenly felt very stubborn.

           
I persisted with my questions.
 
"Do you have a job?
 
Where do you go while I'm at school?"

           
"Katie, it's not important for you to know these things.
 
You know we need distance.
 
You're too young to get deeply involved.
 
Leave the heartache to me."

           
Though William did appear to be roughly my age, he was actually far older.
 
He'd once told me that—though the memory was very, very faint—when he'd first encountered human beings, their main form of transportation had been the horse.
 
So William was not just older—he was older by the span of more than a few lifetimes.
 
Our age difference was one of his main arguments against our love lasting.
 
He said that I didn't truly know what love was yet—that someday I would leave him and he was doomed to heartbreak.

           
I knew he was wrong.

           
"William, answer my questions," I said.
 
"Answer just one.
 
Tell me what neighborhood you live in."

           
William dropped his arm from my shoulder.
 
"Katie, we've been over this territory before.
 
Why are you bringing all of this up again?"

           
"I worry about you, William," I said.
 
"I want you to live somewhere safe and comfortable.
 
I want to know you're okay."

           
William gave me a searching look.
 
"It's your grandmother, isn't it?
 
She's uncertain about me.
 
You must have told her by now that I don't go to school, and she wonders what I do with my life.
 
She must wonder if I'm good for you."

           
I felt a brief stab of guilt when he mentioned GM.

           
"It's not GM," I said.

           
"But she must have questions by now," William protested.
 
"She must wonder what my intentions are."

           
I couldn't help smiling.
 
"That a very old fashioned phrase, William."

           
William did not seem to share my amusement.
 
"Are you telling me that your grandmother has never had any questions about me?"