Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1) (10 page)

Oh
. “No.”

“Right then. Turn around.”

“Why?”

“Just turn around. And lift up your top.”

“What?”

“I want to show you where to carry a dagger. Mary Anne showed me.”

Mary Anne? Right.

Sarah blushed deeply, but she obeyed. She turned around, and lifted her top. Harry slipped the dagger into her bra, right over her spine, touching her skin with warm, light fingers. Sarah pulled down her top quickly, and stepped away.

“Try and move.”

“I can’t feel anything.”

“Exactly. Now try and get the
sgian-dubh
.”

Sarah raised her arm, lifted it behind her back, and her hand curled around the dagger. She took it out smoothly.

“Perfect.”

“I don’t like being armed.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

No. I wasn’t given a choice when I was born a Midnight.

Tomorrow it will be time

To unravel all your secrets

Grand Isle, Louisiana

The road was a white ribbon among the mangroves, between patches of wetland and ponds of still water. The air was heavy and full of moisture, without a hint of a breeze. Just on the horizon, shimmering at the edge of their vision, was the sea.

“So … do you play the Cajun accordion?” Niall’s face was untroubled, open. The face of someone who didn’t think too hard about things.

Or didn’t think at all
, Mike had suspected a few times since they’d met, a few days before.

“Do I what?”

“Play the Cajun accordion. The official Louisiana instrument.”

“Of course. And I eat jambalaya while performing voodoo rituals.”

“Do you?” Niall’s eyes were huge with enthusiasm.

“No.”

“Oh. Oh well.” A pause. Then, “Jesus, is that an alligator?”

“It’s a fallen tree, Niall.” Mike sighed. This Irish boy was testing his patience beyond belief.

“Was it? Anyway, apparently the music is great in these parts. Can we look for some?”

“This is not a holiday.”

“I know, but if we can kill two birds with one stone …”

“Will you take this seriously?” Mike was exasperated. Since he’d picked Niall up in that castaway village he came from, Skerry or whatever the name was, he had behaved as if he was going on some fun trip. Had it not been for Niall’s mother looking straight into his eyes and saying, with that sing-song accent of theirs –
look after him, please
… Had it not been for what Mary Flynn had said, Mike would have thought that the Flynn family were completely unconcerned. Or unaware. But no, they knew and they were afraid.

It was just Niall, being … being Niall.

“I
am
taking it seriously. Look. I’ve got a Swiss knife.”

“You what?”

“A Swiss knife. In my pocket.”

“Great. Just great. That will save our lives for sure.” Mike switched the radio on and set the volume as high as he could.

Niall Flynn, Secret heir of the Flynn family. And certifiably mad. I’m supposed to keep him alive. Good luck to me. And as if the Enemy wasn’t enough, I also have the Sabha to watch out for.

His phone made a buzzing sound.

“It’s a message. Can you get it?”

“Sure thing. It’s from Sean. He asks if we’re nearly there.” Y–E–S, he typed. “There. Sent. I’m amazed there’s reception down here.”

“Not for most people, there isn’t. For us, yes.”

“It really is in the middle of nowhere.”

“Says the man from Donegal.”

Niall laughed. “Good point, I suppose.”

Mike had chosen their hiding place. Somewhere that would keep Niall safe, and from where they could help Sean with his mission. Sean Hannay was the only other Gamekeeper who knew where they were headed: Mike’s home of Grand Isle, Louisiana – a part of it that was well, well away from the beaten track. Somewhere on a beach, surrounded by marshlands where people rarely ventured.

Grand Isle. The most beautiful place on earth
, thought Mike
. At least I get to see home before they kill me
.

The shack was just that. A shack.

“Aw, this is lovely,” commented Niall, not a trace of irony in his voice.

You’ve got to give him that: he’s easy to please
, thought Mike, looking around the dusty, damp, spider-infested little cabin that they were to call home for … well, who knew how long?

They put themselves to work, and in a few hours the cabin was clean, the generator was going, buzzing away, and the computers were up.

“There. To you the privilege to speak to Sean for the first time, from our Grand Isle hideaway.” Mike handed Niall the iPhone, on speaker. After just one beep, Sean’s voice filled the room.

“Mike?”

“It’s Niall.”

“All OK? Are you clear?”

“I think so. And what a beautiful place. The sea is just incredible, and the beach … “

“Er … yes. OK. Is Mike there?”

“I’m here, Sean.”

“Is the boy for real?”

“Oh yes he is. A ray of sunshine for us all.” Mike rolled his eyes. Niall laughed, and his eyes shone in a mischievous way that made Mike smile. A genuine smile.

“I need your help with something, Mike.”

“Fire away.”

That’s what I’m supposed to do. Help Sean from somewhere safe. Send him the info he needs.

Looking after a Secret heir, that wasn’t in the plan. I knew nothing of all this sorry mess until I nearly got eaten by that … thing, whatever it was. That thing that came out of my filing cabinet. Seriously: my filing cabinet.

Hey, becoming a Gamekeeper wasn’t the plan in the first place! I was just a photographer, and in my spare time, a hacker. That’s all. Until my filing cabinet became some sort of a nest to a Feral – that’s what they call them. And because of that, I met Harry Midnight.

I wonder how many people in the world end up saying that: I was just a … whatever – accountant, mailman, housewife or something – until I met Harry Midnight. He’s changed quite a few people’s lives. Including mine. The Gamekeeper training was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it, and I became one of their best. I have no Secret talents, no magical powers; but man, they need me. Especially now that the Sabha is dirty as hell, and there’s only us left to fight, the small group Harry knew to be loyal. As far as we know. It’s not looking good, but, what can I say, I’ve always loved a challenge.

“Thank you, Mike.”

“And how’s the heron?” Heron, the code name for Sarah. So that if they were intercepted, no connection would be made between them and the Midnights.

“The heron’s fine. Frightened. But in one piece.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Hey Sean, what’s the craic out there in Scotland? Did you get to anything?” Niall intervened.

“Anything … like what?”

“Any gigs?”

“Aaaand, we’re out. Goodnight, Sean.” Mike brought his hands to his temples, massaging them in little circular movements.

“‘Night. And Niall …

“Yes?”

“Get a grip.”

“Will do,” Niall replied cheerfully, without resentment. He was impossible to upset.

“Are you all like this where you come from?” Mike was busying himself with the provisions: tinned food, dry biscuits and, of course, a few bottles of Bourbon to steady frayed nerves.

“Nah. Just me. Now why don’t you pour us something while I go get dinner?”

“There’s no shops for miles around. Tonight it’s beans and canned peaches.” Mike waved a can in the air.

“No need for shops. See you later.”

“Give me a minute, I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t think you can. Back in an hour.” Niall grabbed a couple of plastic bags they had used to pack Mike’s equipment, and he was out of the door.

“Better not leave you alone … “

“I’ll be fine!” he called, disappearing in the humid, mosquito-infested Louisiana night.

After an hour, as promised, Niall was back. The bags were full of freshly caught fish, alive and still writhing.

Mike was speechless.

“How did you do that?”

Niall shrugged. “Bonfire on the beach?”

“With a big neon sign saying ‘Secret heir here, please attack’?”

“Aw, come on, nobody knows we’re here. You said it yourself. We’re clear. And we can’t cook all this on a camping stove. Come on.”

A driftwood fire was crackling green and blue, casting strange shadows on Niall’s face. Once again Mike wondered what made this boy so special for
them
to hunt him. To hunt them all, so savagely.

“So, what’s your talent?”

“I play everything I can get my hands on. Fiddle,
uilleann
pipes, flute, you name it, I can play it.”

“Right. Great. That’s a talent indeed. But I meant, what’s your Secret talent? You know, those crazy things that you heirs can do.”

“Oh, yes. I sing.”

OK
.

“I got that. You play everything, and you sing. A one-man band. But what can you do, you know … as a family. As a Secret Family.”

“Told you, we sing. We can sing to hypnotize, to stun, to kill. To heal as well.”

“That’s amazing.” Mike was genuinely impressed.

“I suppose so. Oh, and I’m the Dreamer of my family. I get dreams about demons, then we go and sing them down.” Niall’s face seemed suddenly different. Older.

“Oh.”
He’s a Dreamer. I don’t envy you, man
.

They didn’t speak for a while. They watched the fire flickering and crackling and hissing. The noise of the bonfire and the lapping of the waves were the only sounds.

Niall broke the silence. “Anyway, you don’t play the Cajun accordion, then? ‘Cause you never really answered … Hey, where are you going?”

“To pour myself another Bourbon. I’ve earned it.”

I see the shadows behind the smiles

Longer than my days last my nights

They took James’s Land Rover. Harry drove like a madman. Sarah was clinging to her seat, praying to survive the ride.

“Where did you learn to drive?” she asked, her teeth clenched. She was even paler than usual.

Harry smiled and said nothing.

“If we get there alive, I’ll drive us back.”

“You don’t have a driving licence.”

“It’d still be safer.”

Half an hour later they had crossed the city. Harry stopped in front of a dark, imposing Victorian building. A green plaque announced that the building hosted the Crocketford Community Library.

“Come on.”

“Wait, Harry …”

“Wait for what?”

Sarah opened her mouth to reply. Nothing came out.
Yes, wait for what?

“OK, then. Let’s go,” she said grudgingly. She brought her hands to her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on.

They walked into the neon-lit entrance. It looked more like a church than a library, with vaulted ceilings and grey stone walls. There was a musty smell all around, and a subtle dampness pervaded the air, like in most ancient places. The cold neon light was completely unsuited to the place, and gave it a sterile look, like a surgical theatre.

Sarah lifted her eyes to the dark, impossibly high ceiling, and her head spun.

It all happened in an instant. She had just enough time to set her eyes on the stone arcs above her, then the church-turned-library faded away.

Sarah found herself in semi-darkness. The smell of moss and wet earth hit her. She threw her hands forward, trying to feel her way out, and they met icy, hard stone. She blinked, over and over again, trying to get used to the muted light, and she noticed a wedge of sunlight coming from somewhere behind her. She turned around, and threw herself on her knees, trying to reach it. She crawled on, and squeezed herself through the passage, hitting her shoulders on the hard stone in her haste to get out. The first things she saw when she emerged were the huge grey stones standing in a circle all around her. She realized that she had come out from somewhere under those stones.

She was on a grassy hill, under a purple sky, in a place that seemed suspended in time. The clouds were galloping on over her head, and the wind was roaring in her ears. Every colour seemed heightened, and the light was strange, sharp and yet muted, feeble, like an eternal dusk. She looked around, to see if anyone else was there. She realized she was alone, and she waited.

Something was brought to her by the wind, something tiny and black, like a little seed. It flew towards her face and hid in her neck. Sarah brought her hands up, and felt a sharp pain just above her breast.