Immortal (11 page)

The ground seemed to slip underneath me.

“But if I’m careful they’ll never find out at school….”

“It’s not just the school. This whole thing—it could be dangerous for you.”

“You mean you’ve had your fun, and now I can go back to my dreary little life,” I exploded. “Is that it?”

“No! I’m trying to think of what’s best for you. Please believe that. But there are things in the past, things I’ve done that I regret.”

“I don’t care!”

“But I do.” He groaned. “And you would if you knew.”

“Then tell me,” I pleaded. “At least tell me the truth.”

Sebastian’s face was sickly white in the starlight. “I can’t.”

I had been so happy just a few minutes ago. Now I felt like an outcast. Sebastian had shut me out, and the pain was almost physical. The rain lashed down. I started to run over the moor.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian called after me. “You’ll get lost.”

“What do you care?”

“Evie!” he cried. He caught up with me. “Don’t go like this, Evie. Let me take you back to the school.”

“So that we can shake hands at the gates and say it’s all been great fun? If you really don’t want to see me again, it’s easier if I just go now.”

“I do want to see you. Of course I do. I just don’t want to mess up again. Not with you. I want to keep this as something perfect. And I’m trying—for once—not to be selfish, not to just take what I want without thinking about the consequences. I’m trying to do the right thing, but it hurts so much!”

My anger melted like spring frost.

“Sebastian,” I said gently, “I’m not like you. I don’t expect things to be perfect. And I’m not obsessed with the past. This is a new day, a new life. You can’t go around burdened by old mistakes forever.”

“It wasn’t just a mistake. I hurt someone very badly.” He spoke in an expressionless voice.

“Was it that girl you told me about?”

He nodded.

“These things happen. Don’t make it worse by hurting me as well.”

“I don’t ever want to hurt you,” he whispered. “I care for you more than…more than I could ever say.”

My heart lifted. He cared for me. That was something.

“Then don’t say that we can’t see each other,” I pleaded. “Nothing bad will happen. I trust you, Sebastian.”

“But perhaps you shouldn’t. Sometimes I think you’ve been sent to me, and sometimes I think I am just telling myself what I want to hear. I don’t know anymore. I just know that I am trying to do the right thing for you, Evie.”

“How can you be sure what that is? Didn’t you say to me that we can’t see what’s going to happen in the future? Every single day is a risk. Being alive is a risk. Well, I’m willing to take the risk if you are.”

He hesitated, then looked at me gratefully. “Are you sure? Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

“So we can still be friends?”

I took his cold hand in mine. “Sebastian, I’ll always be your friend.”

But as we rode back to the school in the wind and rain, I knew that I wasn’t quite telling the truth. I wanted to be more than Sebastian’s friend. Oh, I wanted so much more.

Eighteen

T

his is not up to your usual standards.” Miss Scratton frowned, handing back my report on William Blake. “I want you to go to the library after supper and do it again. And you really must stop yawning, Evie! It’s extremely impolite. You’ll have to go to bed early, at the same time as the younger girls, if you carry on like this.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Scratton,” I said meekly. The truth was that I was incredibly tired. Missing two or three hours’ sleep every night to see Sebastian didn’t exactly make me feel eager for academic work. Trying to concentrate on the book of poems in front of me, I read,
In what distant deeps or skies / Burnt the fire of thine eyes.
But the only eyes that burned in my memory were Sebastian’s.

Eventually, the lesson crawled to a close. “Put your books away, girls. I have something to tell you. We will be visiting Fairfax Hall next week as part of our research on the nineteenth century. Some of you may have been there already, but for most of you I imagine it will be a new experience.”

Everyone looked up eagerly.

“What is it like, Miss Scratton?” asked Celeste, looking primly enthusiastic.

“Fairfax Hall is a perfectly preserved example of a Victorian country house. It is not as big or imposing as Wyldcliffe, but fortunately the Fairfax family kept the house largely untouched since it was built. The Hall was passed down through various cousins and distant relations until the Second World War, when such large houses became no longer practical. When the last owner died the house stood empty. It has only recently been opened as a museum, thanks to the splendid efforts of our local historical society.”

“How will we get there?” asked a girl called Katherine Thomas.

“The Hall is only about two miles across the moors, to the east of Wyldcliffe. I have arranged for you to have lunch over there, and a private bus will collect us to return to school. If the weather is good, I propose that we set off early in the morning and walk to the Hall.”

A buzz of excitement broke out all around the classroom. I guessed that the idea of getting out of school and roaming the moors was what appealed to most of the girls, rather than actually looking at the museum.

“That will do, girls; quiet down,” said Miss Scratton. For once she smiled. “You’ll need to bring your notebooks and sketch pads with you. Everyone should assemble by the main door promptly after breakfast on the day of the visit.”

The bell rang for lunch, and the class jostled into the corridor, chatting excitedly. I found Sarah at my side, looking self-conscious but determined.

“You could sit next to me on the bus, if you like,” she said quietly.

I looked at her freckled face and wondered how I had ever been angry with her.

“I’d really like that. Thanks. And I’m so sorry, Sarah; I never meant to—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She smiled, and I knew we were friends again.

“Have you been to this place before?” I asked.

“I’ve ridden past it on Starlight,” said Sarah. “You can’t see much, as it’s surrounded by enormous trees. To be perfectly honest it just looked like an old house to me, but if it perks Miss Scratton up to go see it, that can’t be a bad thing.”

The prospect of spending the day out of the school in the company of Sarah was like a breath of fresh air blowing through Wyldcliffe’s corridors. That evening, when I was tidying up the music room with Helen, I asked her cheerfully if she was looking forward to our visit to the Hall.

“I wouldn’t go there if you paid me,” she said, looking more awkward than ever.

“Don’t be silly.” I laughed. “We won’t get lost on the moors.”

“I wish I could get lost out there,” she exclaimed passionately. “I’d like to walk on the moors forever and never come back.”

I didn’t understand her. Was she just odd, or was she ill in some way?

“Are you feeling okay, Helen? You seem really stressed. Don’t you think you should tell Mrs. Hartle—”

“No!” Helen burst out. “Don’t you dare say anything to her!”

“Sorry,” I said, taken aback. “I was only trying to help.”

“Well, don’t.” She glared, starting to stack a pile of crumpled music. “Concentrate on helping yourself. You’ll need it.”

I finished my chores without trying to make any more small talk. I was looking forward to the day at Fairfax Hall, even if crazy Helen Black wasn’t.

nineteen

THE JOURNAL OF LADY AGNES, NOVEMBER

4,1882
I am almost crazy with worry.

I wish I could heal S. as easily as I did Martha. My old nurse has long been troubled by a cataract in her eye that clouded her vision, but now she cries and laughs and declares that it is a miracle that she can see perfectly well again. Only I know what has brought about this change—it was the power of the living Fire, which I called upon in my Circle of healing.

I cannot rejoice in this as I should, for I am so concerned about my beloved friend. It is as though he is ill with some strange depression, and he is as pale and thin as when he first came home from his travels. He cannot relax, and pushes himself to work harder and study deeper, without allowing himself to rest.

Although I do not like to think this, I believe that S. envies my achievements, despite the fact that his powers increase by the day. His long white fingers can bend metal, or shatter a glass or cup, then reassemble their atoms as easily as liquid flows from one shape to another. But he dismisses what he has learned and wants more. Yesterday he was in a particularly black mood.

“Magic tricks, that’s all I know, Agnes. And my knowledge does not seem to produce anything good or useful. I am no healer.”

It is true. He does not have this gift. I did not know what to say to him.

“Perhaps it will come later, as you study more.”

“Perhaps! I am already weary with study. And perhaps I will never achieve anything at all. I have no insight into the deep elemental powers. But you have been touched by the Fire, the greatest of them all.”

He brooded for a while, then spoke hesitantly.

“You remember that the Book said that men…males should have followers…a group of females? Maybe that is what I need to go further—” In that instant, I seemed to see him surrounded by a group of women shrouded in dark cloaks.

“No!” For some reason this idea was distasteful to me. Then the vision changed and I saw him with one girl—the girl I have seen before—and he looked at her with such tenderness that my heart twisted with pain…. “No,” I repeated more calmly. “This is our secret, for the two of us. Let’s keep it that way.”

“The two of us?” His eyes glittered brilliantly, and he took my hand. “Agnes, you and I could do so much together, if only you would really help me.”

“I do help you,” I protested. “You know I would do anything for you.”

“Then tell me what you know, Agnes,” he urged. “Teach me your secrets.”

“I don’t have any secrets, especially not from you. Everything I know has come from the Book.”

“That’s not true, and you know it’s not. You do more than is set out in its pages. How do you do it? Tell me!”

“I don’t know, truly. I carry out the Rites as instructed, and then I think, I feel, I desire. And then…”

“Then what?” he asked eagerly.

I shook my head. How could I describe the dazzling images in my head, the tingle in my hands, the surge of power through my body when I carry out the Mystic Rites?

“I can’t explain. But does it matter how it happens if good comes of it? Look how happy Martha is now, and there are so many others I can help.”

He threw my hand aside. “You have the power of Fire, Agnes, and yet you will not share it with me. I have seen what you can do, and you could teach me your secrets if you chose.”

I shook my head dumbly, thinking of how I’d first willed the spirits to answer when he called them. Perhaps he was right: Perhaps I could help him further. But something in his desperation held me back.

“I can’t explain,” I said slowly. “It is something given to me and me alone.”

Was I wrong to say this? Was I wrong to deny him? How could I refuse him, when his happiness means more to me than my own? I barely understand myself, yet I know that I did right.

Now silences that were never there before fall between us. From time to time I catch him staring at me, yet seeing nothing, as though he wanders far in his thoughts. I cannot describe how this grieves me. I would do anything for him…anything but this.

I fear we no longer entirely trust each other.

Twenty

“I

thought you said you trusted me,” teased Sebastian.

“I do trust you,” I replied with a laugh. “I’m just not sure about the boat.”

Sebastian had somehow produced an old rowing boat, which floated sluggishly at the edge of the lake, and he was as excited as a kid at the idea of taking it on the water. I prayed that no one would spot us, but it was good to see him fool around, as though he had managed to throw off his worries for a while.

Despite my laughter, I didn’t feel that great. It was the night before the class trip to Fairfax Hall, clear and windless and bitingly cold. I had put on a thick sweatshirt over my nightclothes, but I still shivered, as if I were getting sick. I hadn’t forgotten my desire to swim, but tonight the lake looked uninviting, its black waters still and sullen. I felt uneasy. This was no innocent swimming pool, I reminded myself. Laura had died here, on this very spot.

I was sick of shadows and secrets.

I wished that Sebastian and I could meet like other people did, in coffee bars and at the movies and parties. Just do regular stuff. I was getting tired of hiding in the dark.

“If the boat springs a leak we’ll get a dip in the lake; that’s all,” Sebastian said, untying the ropes. Then he glanced up at me. “Evie, are you all right? You’re not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared of anything,” I said, stepping into the boat and trying to shake off my strange mood. It rocked from side to side. There was a faint smell of mildew from its damp timbers.

“Where did you find this?” I asked.

“Oh, there are all sorts of things that have been abandoned at Wyldcliffe that people don’t value anymore. This fine vessel was rotting in an old boathouse, covered with laurel bushes….”

“Rotting!” I exclaimed. I liked the idea of our expedition even less.

“It will last for one more outing.” He smiled coaxingly. “Don’t worry. Just lie back and enjoy the trip. Here, Evie, wrap my coat around you.”

Sebastian looked so happy as he passed me the thick coat that I couldn’t resist. He began to row skillfully across the lake. His cheeks were flushed, and the dark shadows under his eyes seemed to have faded. My stomach tightened at the sight of him as he pulled and stretched in his white linen shirt. I wanted to reach out and touch him.