Pure (Book 1, Pure Series)

By Catherine Mesick

lived in Russia.
 
I remembered the big apple tree in our backyard.
 
I remembered the roses that grew at the front of our house.
 
I remembered playing with my red-haired older cousin, Odette.

           
I remembered, too, the day GM had taken the picture.
 
Little had she known then that her son-in-law and her daughter would be dead soon afterward.

           
My father had died first in a hiking accident.
 
My mother died just a few weeks later of a fever.
 
GM had moved us to the United States shortly after that.
 
We'd been here for eleven years now, and my old life was beyond my reach for good.

           
The darkness continued to call to me, and I had an irrational desire to run out into the night.
 
I set the picture down and rubbed my temples.
 
I tried to force my mind back to reality – back to what was normal and safe and unrelated to the unknown out in the dark.

           
I had school tomorrow and a quiz in English.
 
I had studied, but I still needed to sleep to be sure of doing well.
 
And I would see Simon tomorrow.
 
His presence was always calming.

           
I suddenly felt a sharp tug on my mind and was seized with a strong desire to run out into the night and keep running until I found the source of the summons.

           
I closed my eyes and willed the feeling away.

           
After a moment of concentration, the night calling began to subside and was soon gone.
 
Relief flooded through me.
 
I turned out the light.

           
I lay in bed for a long time, still unable to sleep, listening to the occasional quiet creak of the house.
 
I was just drifting off to sleep when I was startled by a loud noise.
 
A speeding car tore up our street and screeched to a halt in front of our house.
 
The car turned sharply into our driveway, the tires grinding heavily on the stones.

           
I sat up.
 
I heard two car doors slam and footsteps crunching in the driveway.
 
Then I heard a chair scrape back in the kitchen below.
 
GM kept late hours and was surely going to investigate all the noise.

           
I jumped out of bed and scrambled in the dark to find a robe.
 
Who could be in such a hurry to see us in the middle of the night?
 
I had a sudden sense of foreboding.
 
I wasn't going to let my grandmother face these people alone.

           
As I threw the door to my room open, I heard a heavy pounding on the front door, followed by a high woman's cry.

           
"Anna!
 
Anna Rost!
 
Annushka!
 
It's Galina!"

           
I froze.
 
Only GM's oldest friends called her Annushka – and there were precious few of those.
 
Maybe GM would prefer me not to interrupt.
 
And she never liked me getting involved in anything that had to do with the past.

           
I heard GM quickly unbolt the door and open it.

           
"Galina!" GM shouted in shock.
 
Her voice rose even higher.
 
"Aleksandr?
 
Is that you, Aleksandr?"

           
I wished I could see the visitors.
 
GM clearly recognized them, and there was a strange mixture of excitement and fear in her voice.
 
I had a feeling that if I went downstairs now, she would shoo me out.
 
I crept to the top of the stairs and stayed in the shadows – the better to hear without being seen.

           
"Annushka!" the woman named Galina cried again.
 
She had a heavy Russian accent.
 
GM's was much lighter.
 
"Annushka!
 
I had scarcely allowed myself to believe that we'd actually found you!
 
Oh, Annushka!
 
After all these years!"

           
"Shhhh!" GM hissed.
 
"You'll wake my granddaughter.
 
Come in.
 
Quickly."

           
I could hear the clack of a woman's footsteps on the tile floor in the hall, followed by a man's heavier tread.
 
The door was closed and the bolt reset.

           
I heard GM lead her visitors down the hall to the kitchen.

           
I tiptoed down the stairs and sat on the bottom step.
 
I wouldn't be able to see from there without actually leaning around the banister, but I knew from experience that I would be able to hear.

           
"You're not entirely happy to see us, are you, Annushka?" Galina asked.

           
Three chairs scraped on the kitchen floor.
 
I figured they were seating themselves at the table.

           
From GM there was a heavy sigh.
 
"I am happy to see you.
 
I am not happy about what it is that you bring with you."

           
"And what is that?" Galina asked sharply.

           
"Superstition."
 
GM sighed again.
 
"Since you are here, would you like a cup of tea?
 
How about you, Aleksandr?"

           
"Yes, thank you, Annushka," Galina said.

           
I heard water running as GM filled a kettle.

           
After the kettle was filled, I heard GM sit down at the table.
 
"I suppose you have a good reason for storming my house in the middle of the night?"

           
"Annushka, we need your help."
 
Galina's voice was urgent.

           
"Then why didn't you just call?" GM asked angrily.
 
"Why fly all the way here from Russia?
 
You did come from Russia, didn't you?"

           
"Yes."

           
I risked a look over the banister.
 
I could see down the hall into the well-lit kitchen.
 
GM's back was to me, and her long silver hair was pulled into a ponytail that flowed like silk down the back of her navy-blue cardigan.
 
She was resting her elbows on the kitchen table as she regarded her two late-night visitors.

           
Facing GM was a woman who looked a little older than my own mother would have been had she lived.
 
She was blond, and she wore a nondescript beige coat with brightly colored mittens that she hadn't taken off yet.
 
Next to her was a young man who seemed to be in his early twenties.
 
He was wearing an olive-green military-style coat, and his hair was an odd shade of brown – sort of a cinnamon color.
 
There was a strong family resemblance in the faces.
 
I guessed that Galina and Aleksandr were mother and son.

           
Aleksandr must have felt my eyes on him, as he transferred his gaze from GM to me.

           
For just an instant, as Aleksandr's eyes met mine, I felt a feeling of strangeness and wrongness wash over me.
 
Something about him was very alien.
 
I quickly pulled my head back behind the banister, my heart racing.
 
I froze, waiting to hear if he would tell GM that he had seen me.

           
But Aleksandr did not say anything, and silence stretched in the kitchen.
 
I figured my reaction to his gaze had simply been nerves.
 
I relaxed.

           
"Why didn't I just call you?"
 
Galina said at last, sighing heavily, just as GM had done.
 
"I feared you would not listen.
 
I feared you would hang up on me.
 
Was I wrong about that?"

           
GM did not reply.

           
"I tried to keep in contact with you," Galina said mournfully.
 
"You wouldn't answer any of my letters or phone calls."

           
"Because you wanted to involve my granddaughter in your nonsense," GM snapped.
 
"You wanted to make her believe that fairy tales are real."

           
"I wanted to
teach
her," Galina replied angrily.

           
"So is that what this is about?" GM asked, equally angry.
 
"You, in your great wisdom, have decided that the time has come for you to drag my granddaughter into your world of darkness and ignorance?"

           
"I did not choose the time, Annushka, it was chosen for me," Galina said ominously.
 
"I feared something like this would happen, and if I'd been working with Ekaterina all the time, maybe we could have prevented this."

           
I was startled to hear Galina call me by my Russian name – no one ever did that.
 
It was almost as if the name wasn't mine.
 
To my family I had always been Katie – my English father had been responsible for that.

           
But as surprised as I was to hear myself called Ekaterina, I was even more startled to hear the talk of superstition and teaching.
 
A little frisson of fear ran through me, though I didn't entirely understand why.

           
"I don't want to hear your nonsense, Galina," GM snapped.

           
"Annushka, you have to listen!" Galina cried.
 
"
He's
free!
 
You know who I mean—"

           
"You will not speak that name in my house!" GM shouted.

           
Just then the kettle began to whistle, and I jumped.
 
I placed my hand over my heart to control its pounding.

           
I heard GM get up and shut off the stove.
 
There were other noises as GM poured out for everyone.

           
No one spoke.

           
"I am sorry," Galina said softly.

           
I heard GM's chair scrape as she sat down again.

           
"I will not discuss this if it upsets you," Galina continued.

           
I could hear something in Galina's voice, though – something patient and determined.
 
She would try again to get GM to hear her out.
 
And whatever it was she had to say involved me.

           
"You don't believe in the supernatural, Mrs. Rost?" Aleksandr asked.

           
GM snorted.
 
"The mischievous spirits and the vampires?
 
No, I do not.
 
Those are just stories designed to scare people."

           
"They aren't all mischievous spirits."
 
Aleksandr's voice was strangely soothing.
 
"They say the Leshi is quite a good fellow.
 
Though you make an excellent point about fear – there are darker things than vampires in Krov."

           
"Oh, why can't any of you from the old village have a normal conversation?" GM asked wearily.
 
"Look at me.
 
I started over here.
 
I lead a normal life now.
 
Can't you do the same?"

           
"I heard you are a graphic designer," Galina said.

           
"Yes," GM replied.

           
"I don't even know what that is," Galina said.
 
I could hear a note of wistfulness in her voice.

           
"There's so much that you miss," GM replied in a rush.
 
"How are you, Galina?
 
Are you happy?
 
You know that in my heart I miss you.
 
And don't you want good things for your son?
 
How are you, Aleksandr?"

           
"Still unmarried.
 
Ask my mother."
 
Aleksandr sounded deeply amused."

           
"Hush, Aleksandr," Galina snapped.
 
I was surprised at how sharp her tone was.
 
"Don't be a fool."

           
"Galina, why don't the two of you move?" GM asked.

           
"We can't leave—" Galina began.

           
GM broke in hurriedly.
 
"I don't mean leave Russia.
 
I mean leave the village – leave tiny little Krov.
 
Move to Moscow.
 
Or another big city.
 
Russia is such a beautiful country.
 
You don't have to stay in that dark, tiny corner of it.
 
Move some place where there is life – where there are new things."

           
"Though you will not admit it, you do know why I can't leave."
 
Galina's voice was quiet and profoundly sad.