Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1) (14 page)

There’s only Sarah left. I wish I could have gone to protect her, but I don’t get to choose what to do with my life any more, not now that our world is crumbling. My place is here with Aiko.

Who’s doing all this? Who has created the Valaya, and who controls them all? Nobody knows, not for sure.

But Harry had his suspicions, and he left me a trail to follow. Unwillingly, of course – he didn’t want to put this burden on my shoulders. I had to go behind his back, ignoring his desire to keep me safe, and find out all he had discovered about the traitors in the Sabha, and how they could lead to our real enemy, the one who started it all.

I’m trying to keep faith, I’m trying to believe that there’s still hope, and that this fight won’t start spilling into the world beyond the Secret Families. I hope that the world will still be shielded from what comes out of the woods, the soil, the water. I’m praying that we can still keep all this hidden from view, that the only ones who’ll notice are a few eccentrics spinning their conspiracy theories on the web, so that the truth about the Time of Demons gets mixed up with alien landings and Loch Ness monsters, and because of that, nobody will believe it’s coming for real.

The only way is to protect the heirs one by one – to crush the Valaya one by one – until we can raise our heads out of this hiding place, and follow the trail I stole from Harry’s files. To go and find the root of all evil, and destroy it once and for all.

Two letters. And a book of stories. That’s all I have.

It’ll have to do.

I’m supposed to have visions where I see the future. This is the strongest of my powers. They come to me in water, in mirrors, in glass, or they come like dreams, when I’m asleep.

Except it doesn’t work any more.

The power I’ve had since I was thirteen disappeared the day I left London. The Frisons say that it must be shock, that it’ll come back. Every day I walk to the little stream at the edge of the village, with its white-grey waters coming straight from the glaciers – so cold that I can barely touch it. I lean over it, and all I see is my reflection, my hair falling like willow branches, and a pair of melancholic brown eyes. Eyes that must belong to someone else – they’re too sad, too old to be mine.

I’m only twenty, and I’ve lived a lifetime. I’m a twenty-year-old widow, a Secret heir with no powers.

If they come, I’ll fight them with my bare hands. After all, when I die it’ll be the time I see Harry again. I promised him.

“I’ll never leave you.” Harry’s hand ran over Elodie’s shoulder, down her arm and coming to rest on her hip. She lay in a lazy heap on their bed.

“And I’ll never leave
you
.”

London was silent, peaceful, that night of long ago, before it all went wrong. It was just them awake in the night; it was just them alive in the whole of the world, in the whole of the universe. Lost in love.

“Don’t fall asleep. Stay with me,” Elodie whispered in his ear. Her breath smelled faintly of the ice-cream they had eaten strolling in Hyde Park, a few hours before. Pistachio ice cream, her favourite.

“Why waste time sleeping?” She enveloped him in her arms. She wanted to be as close to him as possible. She wanted to be one with him, so that he could never leave.

“You see, when I’m happy, I sleep,” he said hazily.

Elodie laughed. “And when you’re not happy, you’re hyper.”

“Exactly.”

“Sleep, then.” She held him as he drifted away, keeping him safe, her face snuggled against his back and her hands resting on his chest.

“If you leave, I’ll follow,” she whispered.

“I know.”

It’s a promise
.

Every day I hope it’s the day I get to keep my promise.

Strong in my blood

Discovering all

The past and the future

And all in between

“Chicken with almonds and raisins … Sarah is back to her old self!” Bryony was looking at Sarah’s lunch with appreciation. They were sitting in the school canteen, at their usual table, the one beside the window. A cold, grey light was seeping from it – it was a dull day, and the glass was covered in a million little drops of moisture.

Sarah couldn’t help but smile. Her life was in complete chaos, and still Bryony could make her smile.
What would I do without her?

“Yes, well, I took a bit of time to cook yesterday.”

“What did you do at the weekend?”

What did I do at the weekend? Good question. I went looking for a lunatic who’s part of a secret society of freaks. Oh, and a demon nearly killed my cousin
.

“Nothing much, really. I watched TV, cooked, tidied a bit.” She was used to lying to Bryony. She’d done it for years.

Bryony was her best friend, and still she knew so little about Sarah’s life – her real life, not the one that she and her parents presented to the world, like the window of a department store, all done up to look perfect, but completely unreal.

James Midnight, GP. Anne Midnight, music teacher. One daughter, Sarah Midnight, a really good girl, doing great in school. A normal family
.

Until dusk. When darkness falls, and everything changes
.

“I saw your cousin drop you off this morning,” said Bryony.

“Did you?”

“You never told me he was so gorgeous. He looks like an actor!”

Sarah blushed and looked away. “I didn’t notice.”

“Maybe I’ll invite him for a coffee, what do you think?”

“Bryony!”
That’s all I need right now
.

“Just joking! Don’t worry. How long had you not seen him for?”

“Since I was a wee girl. His dad and my dad …” Sarah felt breathless for a moment, as always when she mentioned her parents. “They fell out, years ago. I don’t know why. My uncle and his family moved to New Zealand, and they never met again.”

“What a shame.” Bryony had a crowd of aunts, uncles and cousins, and they were very close. Sarah often wondered what her life would have been like, had she had brothers and sisters, and a big family. She envied Bryony a little. Especially now, when she felt so alone.

“Hello …”

A tall, lanky boy had appeared beside their table. He was wearing the school uniform, a white shirt worn out of his trousers, a black cardigan, and the blue and grey tie. His straight brown hair came to his neck, framing an open, friendly face.

Jack McAllister. A sweet, kind boy, one of Bryony’s best and oldest friends, who’d had a crush on Sarah since they were five years old. Bryony had been trying to convince her to go out with him for the last few years. It was her pet project.

“Can I join you?”

“Of course!” said Bryony with a smile, and glanced at Sarah.

Sarah pretended not to notice.

“I’m going to get a Coke.” Bryony stood up.
Very strategic. I’ll get you back, Bryony
.

“Sarah … I haven’t seen you since … since …” He stumbled.

“Yes. Well … I’ve been at home for a while.”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Sarah.”

“Thank you.” Jack was a lovely person, and a good friend.
And that’s it
.

He fidgeted with his tie. His cheeks were scarlet.

“Would you like to go out, later on? A coffee, maybe?”

Er … no?

“I’m sorry, I really can’t. I have so much to do today.”
That’s true, anyway
.

Jack’s face fell, and Sarah felt terrible. “Of course … maybe another time.”

He looked desolate. Sarah couldn’t bear it.

“Things are not easy at home right now.” She struggled to continue. It felt strange to be confiding in anyone. She hardly ever did that, and words came out with great effort. “But when it all settles down again, I’ll go for coffee with you.”

Why did I say that?

Jack’s face lit up. “Great! Great! I’ll buy you a hazelnut latte if you like!”

Sarah smiled. He had remembered that hazelnut latte was her favourite.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bryony standing at the vending machine, drinking her Coke and looking at them in a way that spoke louder than words … and the spell was broken. Why was everybody trying to make decisions for her? Why did everybody seem to have plans for her life?

“Anyway. Bye Jack.” She started gathering her jacket, her bag, her books as quickly as she could.

“Sarah, wait …”

“Sorry, Jack, I really have to go.”

“This fell out of your books.” He handed her a leaf, a bright-red autumn leaf.

Sarah’s heart skipped a beat.

“It fell out of my books?”

“It must have. I saw it falling when you grabbed your stuff. It’s just a leaf!” He shrugged, wondering why she looked so spooked.

Sarah took the leaf, and placed it carefully in one of her books, turning away.

“Bye then, I’ll give you a call …”

But Sarah had gone already.

“How was school?”

“Fine.”

“Who was that boy you sat with in the canteen?”

What?

For a moment, Sarah was speechless.

“How did you know who I was talking to?”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you.” Harry’s impossibly clear eyes weren’t giving anything away.

“Do you follow me around? Were you in school with me?” whispered Sarah. She was too bewildered to be angry.

“Of course! Do you think I would have allowed you to go to school alone, not knowing when the Valaya might attack?”

Allowed me?

“They wouldn’t attack me in a busy school, in the light of day.”

“They’d find a way to make it look like an accident. I promised to protect you, Sarah, and I will.”

Sarah nodded, uncertain.

He follows me in school, hiding somewhere. He’s watching me
.

She didn’t know whether to feel horrified or strangely comforted. Harry must have seen her consternation. He took her hand.

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said.

His hand was strong, and so much bigger than hers. Sarah squeezed it. She heard a voice saying something. Her voice.

“No. Don’t leave me alone.”

What am I saying?
She was startled. Those words had come out from the bottom of her soul, as unstoppable as a sigh.

They looked at each other, and a current of recognition passed between them. Two people adrift, holding on to each other.

That night, Harry and Sarah went down to the basement. They had decided to wait for the Valaya’s next move, and in the meanwhile prepare themselves the best they could. Harry started examining James’s weaponry, some of which he had inherited from his Midnight ancestors, and some accumulated in his brief life. Sarah stood at the oak table, going through her mother’s magical equipment. Harry was beside himself with excitement. Having been a hunter for a long time, he had a profound knowledge of the weapons needed for each hunt, for each creature – and he had never come across an arsenal as rich as James’s.

“Have you seen this, Sarah? A knife to cut ghost matter!” His eyes were shining.

But Sarah didn’t answer. She was barely listening, lost in melancholic thoughts, as she looked at Anne’s things. The way they reminded her of her mother was painful enough – but the way she had no idea how to use any of them made it even worse. Her mother had chosen not to give Sarah her rightful inheritance of knowledge – she’d chosen to leave her in the dark.

There were jars and jars of herbs, meticulously labelled. Some came from the garden, and they were plain, everyday herbs; some were different kinds of seaweed, collected by her mother when they went to their home in Islay; and some were a mystery. The labels said the weirdest things, like ‘Kelpie’s Mane’, ‘Selkie Skin’, ‘Tree Blood’, ‘Sea Spirit’. Sarah knew that those names weren’t flights of fancy, poetic names that her mother had made up – she knew that they meant what they said, somehow. Sarah examined the jar labelled ‘Sea Spirit’. It was a grey powder, nothing much to look at. She opened it and slid her finger in. It felt wet, like water. She took a closer look – no mistake, it was dust – but it definitely felt like water. She put her whole hand in it, splashing gently inside the jar. When she took her hand out it was perfectly dry.

Sarah opened a little box. It was full to the brim with brightly coloured stones, rubies, emeralds, pieces of obsidian and amber, and a few diamonds, as big as her fingernails. She also had some lumps of gold, silver and copper, and a few plain-looking stones that, Sarah was sure, must have had some special qualities invisible to the eye. There were several other boxes. Some were made of cardboard, with flowery patterns in pastel colours, in her mother’s delicate taste; some were wooden. There was an oak one with the Midnight coat of arms, an intricate M woven around a dagger, burnt into its lid. She opened them all, one by one. Some looked like harmless sewing baskets, full of different coloured threads, pieces of string, little velvet pouches and fabric. A few had candles in them, of all colours, shapes and sizes. One was more like a chest, and it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a pirate film. It was made of heavy, dark wood, and had a brass lock. Sarah tried to open it, but to no avail.