The Dark (6 page)

She whistles, softly, then turns and sees me. ‘Wow. This is really something.’

‘Well yes, though I do find the bed a bit over the top. Don’t you?’

She giggles at the heart-shaped structure covered with pink and white heart-shaped cushions. Her laughter eases the tension of being thrown together in a
room that could only be described as a lovers’ paradise.

‘It could be a honeymoon suite at a really posh – no, tacky, hotel,’ she remarks. ‘Why do you think …?’

Her words drift away, while her face changes colour to a deeper shade of pink than the half dozen cushions sprinkled across the double bed. But it’s plain what she’s asking. I shrug my shoulders and smile. ‘Hmm, who knows the mind of the Citadel, or its keepers? I have no idea.’

And I really don’t. The Citadel is an enigma. Even while I live here I can still be amazed. It’s as if the building has a mind of its own. I’ve seen the high-tech machinery that lines the walls of its central work station, but sometimes it reacts as if it is working on instinct, or emotions. Though I suspect Lorian, and of course the others that live here, may have something to do with this aspect of its functioning.

I try to switch Isabel’s thoughts away from this replica of Cupid’s own bedroom. ‘I think we’d better get going. You’re late. Did you know that?’

‘Sort of,’ she answers ambiguously.

In another room, this one decorated more appropriately, we find ourselves clothed in period dress fitting our destination. Isabel ends up wearing a long green gown, with flowing sleeves, belted slightly above the waist. Her hair is now black, falling in an array of wild ringlets.

I stare at her for ages, completely speechless. She notices, and her hand slips to touch the bottom few curls, twirling one round and round her finger. She twirls it so tightly I think it’s about to cut off her circulation. Especially when her finger starts turning purple.

I go over and unwind it. At first she doesn’t get what I’m doing and stares up at me.

‘Your finger’s about to drop off,’ I explain.

‘Oh?’ she says in a voice that sounds detached. Then she looks at her fingers and gasps, ‘Oh!’

She spins away from me and shakes her hand a few times. After a minute she turns back. ‘Well, I guess we should be going. But … I don’t know who I am yet.’

‘Hold on.’

Just as I say this a sprinkling of shimmering dust comes down on top of us, filling us with the knowledge and language skills we’re going to need on our journey.

‘Ah, so I’m a governess.’

‘Phillipa Monterey,’ I confirm with a bow.

‘And you, who are not quite so elegantly dressed?’

I glance down at my woollen hose and coarse over-shirt secured roughly at the waist with a plaited cord, and take my cap off to reveal a mess of light brown hair. ‘It appears that I am going to be a stable hand, I believe, by the name of Gascon.’

‘Well, Gascon, I’m going to miss your long blue hair. How on earth will I find you in a crowd now?’

Her humour makes me laugh, easing any lingering tension between us. Lately she’s been so mysterious. I’m concerned she’s keeping something from me that might affect our mission. I think I know what it is anyway. Perhaps she doesn’t want to mention it yet because it frightens her. As we step into our departure room, I can’t help asking, ‘Has your second skill emerged, Isabel?’

She stops. ‘Don’t tell me Ethan’s right when he says there’s nothing you don’t know?’

‘There’s a lot I don’t know, such as what exactly your new power is.’

She sighs wistfully. ‘I think I’m experiencing psychic visions, or something like that.’

‘Are these visions of the future? Or of the past?’

She seems surprised by my questions. ‘So both are possible, huh?’

‘Yes. And when you’ve evolved this skill, you’ll be surprised what you can do with it.’

‘How do you mean?’ she asks.

‘You may be able to project your own images and issue warnings; one day, perhaps even heal.’

‘Wow. Well right now I have to admit these visions are a little scary. I don’t know how to control them, and they can be painful like you wouldn’t believe. They hit without warning – anywhere, anytime.’

‘So how many have you had?’

An opening appears in the wall before us, and as we near it, ready to leap into the past, she turns just slightly. ‘I think I’ve had two. The first was that powerful storm only seconds before it happened. And last night I saw Ethan’s mother trying to kill herself.’

She goes to leap, but I grab her arm. ‘Show me.’

‘What?’

‘Recall the vision and don’t try to block your thoughts.’

She closes her eyes and the vision unfolds for my viewing. When it is over, she leaves me with my thoughts and silently leaps.

I drop behind her on to a well-worn dirt road, outside a stone wall with high wooden gates. The time appears to be early dawn. And even while I’ve made many time-journeys before, I still experience a
moment of intense excitement and relief, when the leap is successful.

While we straighten our clothes and gather our bearings, I can’t get Isabel’s graphic vision out of my mind. Ethan, my Apprentice since he was a child of four years, has seen so much in his life. Ever since his sister was murdered by Marduke, he’s lived with a seriously depressed mother. While his father was unable to help, he took on the huge responsibility of caring for her. Ethan has had an uneasy life, full of fear and sadness and feelings of utter helplessness. He coped. And coped well. But he’s only human. How much more can he take?

Before we go any further I lay my hand on Isabel’s arm. ‘All those years as Ethan’s Trainer I’ve watched him suffer, but couldn’t do anything to help.’

She glances into my face. Time and motion cease to exist.

Then she says, ‘No one could, Arkarian. Does anybody know why Laura’s depression has gone on for so long? Or why she isn’t getting any better?’

‘Losing a child, no matter how long ago, can’t be easy. But the fact that Laura is getting worse, has me thinking there’s something else stopping her from moving past her grief. Something that’s keeping her constantly on edge.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just a theory. But what does worry me is how Ethan will cope. Does he know about your vision?’ We push through the gates and make our way past several small wattle-and-daub cottages to the castle up ahead.

‘He does, and he’s really worried.’

‘Try to reassure him, Isabel, that everything will be all right.’

‘He thinks saving his mother will be as simple as stopping her from going to the sanatorium.’

Is it possible to avert a tragedy by simply stopping a person from being in the place at the time they’ve been seen to take their own life? ‘I think we need to find the cause of Laura’s continuing anxiety.’

‘But how?’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to stop working on this problem until I’ve figured out what’s wrong. I promise.’

‘You have to hurry, Arkarian. There are only ten days until Laura goes to this place.’

‘Yes. And a lot can happen in ten days.’

Chapter Five

Isabel

Arkarian doesn’t know who this six-year-old French girl is in relation to history, or where the danger is going to come from. And he doesn’t know why this girl’s life is so important that the Immortal commanded Arkarian be part of this mission right at the last minute. All we know is that this child won’t live past her sixteenth year. The year she falls pregnant and gives birth. Arkarian can’t find anything on the child she bears either. It’s as if the baby is raised by the pixies.

Well, I never did fully believe what Ethan takes as sacred – that Arkarian knows everything. And thankfully I’ve learned to mask my thoughts from him, even though sometimes it’s a struggle. If I didn’t, I would be in a fine mess. My thoughts have been anything but decent. And when our eyes meet, I swear, it’s like there’s no oxygen in the room. But something else is happening that I can’t quite figure out. It’s really weird. A seed has taken root in my stomach. A seed of fear. It’s like there’s a clock counting down the time we have together.

I put these thoughts aside while I concentrate on how best to protect this child. Her name is Charlotte, and she’s the only daughter (the only child in fact) of a Duke and Duchess. Unfortunately, last year the Duchess passed away with a wasting disease, and now the child is lonely and depressed. She has an aunt, her mother’s sister, Lady Eleanor, who greets me at the entrance to the keep. She takes a good look at me from head to toe, and then at Arkarian, who remains a little way behind me. With a tight nod, she invites me inside, shutting the door in Arkarian’s face.

‘What happened to your carriage? Why did you arrive on foot, with only that stable-hand for company?’ she snaps.

Behind us, the Duke himself appears. He makes a sarcastic scoffing sound. From what I learned earlier, the Duke spends a lot of time at court in the King’s company. Or on the battlefield leading the royal troops. And from the look Lady Eleanor gives him, I’m guessing it’s not just the Duke’s daughter who finds his absences lengthy.

‘Why do you have to be suspicious of everyone who wears a skirt in my company?’

I have to be careful not to laugh outright at the Duke’s words. Apparently I’m not the only one who’s aware of Lady Eleanor’s longings.

‘My carriage was set upon by thieves,’ I explain. ‘Everything except the clothes on my back was stolen or destroyed. That stable-hand helped me find my way. His name is Gascon.’

The Duke’s hand gestures towards me. ‘There you are, Eleanor. Are you satisfied?’

He’s bitter, but his attitude is not my concern. It’s the
girl I’m here to worry about. ‘When shall I meet the young lady?’ I ask.

The Duke raises his eyebrows at Lady Eleanor, who runs up a nearby flight of stairs. Her departure fills the spacious hall with the most awkward silence, as the Duke stares out of a window to the courtyard beyond, content to say nothing.

‘Excuse me, my lord, may I ask where I shall be staying?’

He taps his finger repeatedly on the stone ledge before him. I wonder if he’s going to bother replying. Eventually he turns his head, ‘No doubt Eleanor will have organised a chamber for you.’ He waves dismissively at Arkarian outside. ‘The boy can go to the stables. Old François will show him where he can stay.’

He looks away, discouraging further conversation. Lady Eleanor returns with the Duke’s daughter and my attention quickly re-focuses. Charlotte seems small for her age, and thin, with pale skin, huge blue eyes, and a mop of blonde ringlets. I fall in love with her on sight, feeling drawn to this beautiful child with the sorrowful eyes and small down-turned mouth. I get on my knees to be at her height. ‘Hello, Miss Charlotte.’

She answers me with nothing but a drooping head and silence, her thumb tucked into her mouth. She rocks on her heels and looks to the stairway.

Take it slowly, I tell myself, and try again. ‘My name is Phillipa, and I’m going to be your—’ I don’t finish my words as my attention is seized by a series of thumping sounds coming from behind her. I look across and find myself staring straight into the eyes of a large dog, a Great Dane, easily the largest I’ve ever seen.

I jump up, my first instinct to run. But Charlotte calls to it excitedly, and the animal prances over, tail wagging. Charlotte then folds her body across the dog’s broad back, giving it a loving embrace and muttering sweet nothings into one of its rigid, upright ears. The dog turns its massive head and begins enthusiastically licking the girl’s face and arm.

‘Oh for pity’s sake, do something, Adrian,’ Lady Eleanor moans dramatically.

The Duke drags himself from the window, takes one look at the dog and his daughter embracing, then turns his palms outwards. ‘The animal makes her happy. God knows nothing else around here does.’

The Duke smiles at me sadly. ‘The beast accompanies my daughter everywhere. You’ll have to win him over before you get close to Charlotte.’

Minutes later Lady Eleanor shows me to my room upstairs, Charlotte and her dog trailing behind us. ‘I’m sure you’ll be comfortable in here, the likes of this chamber I doubt you’ve ever seen before.’

My eyes do a broad take of the room. It certainly is spacious and elegantly furnished, with beautiful oak panelling. Two sets of mullioned windows overlook a courtyard below, an exquisitely hand-carved desk separating them. A door leads to Charlotte’s bedchamber, while a painted bench adorns the wall to the right. A king-size bed, with four posts that are fixed to the ceiling, sits on a raised platform jutting out from the opposite wall. A beautiful tapestry hangs above it. I go over for a closer look.

‘Mama made it,’ a little voice informs me from behind. ‘She loved to stitch.’

When I turn around Lady Eleanor is walking out of
the door, leaving me alone with Charlotte. I point to the dog. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Papa says it should be Horse.’

‘Hmm, I wonder why?’ I mutter beneath my breath.

Charlotte drops to her knees and gives the dog another of her trusting embraces. She rests her head on its massive chest. ‘But I call him King Charles, in honour of our king. Don’t you think he looks like a monarch?’

‘He does indeed.’ But thoughts of King Charles, or any king, soon disappear as Arkarian – or I should say, Gascon – walks in and stands by the door. He addresses me politely.

‘Pardon, my lady. Lady Eleanor says it is time for your ride.’ Charlotte nods happily and begins looking for her gloves and riding whip. The dog follows her like a shadow.

‘What do you think we should do with him?’ I whisper.

‘Well, his instincts would be to protect the girl. That can’t be bad.’ Arkarian walks over to the dog, bends down and strokes it behind one of its pointy ears. ‘He seems friendly enough.’

‘The Duke says I’ll need permission from him to get close to Charlotte.’

Charlotte hears and giggles, giving Arkarian a sideways glance. I introduce him as Gascon. The dog suddenly moves and, instinctively, I step back.

Arkarian laughs. ‘You don’t look comfortable. Is your sixth sense telling you something?’ he adds in a whisper. ‘Or are you just not good with animals?’