Tide (11 page)

She lit the white candle, signalling the beginning of the spell. The blade was cold against her skin. She flinched as her blood gushed red and copious into the silver bowl – she had sharpened Mairead’s knife and the cut was deeper than she’d intended. Her arm hurt and trembled as she lifted the bowl over the map; her heartbeat was furious and her breathing shallow as she closed her eyes and waited. The little red pouch started vibrating softly.

The air shifted around Sarah, a strange, electric feeling – and she knew the spell was working. She opened her eyes in time to see the pouch float upwards and sideways, over the silver bowl. It dipped itself into Sarah’s blood, and then floated up again above the map, as if deciding where to go. Suddenly, it dipped, marking a spot with its blood-soaked velvet and rising again at once.

Sarah swallowed, expecting something to happen at any moment, as it had happened with the last scrying spell she had performed.

But nothing happened.

Trying to breathe normally, Sarah allowed herself to lower her eyes to the map, the protection charm still hovering in mid-air, to check the place it had marked. It was a spot very close to her house, right where Edinburgh ended and the moorland began. That very moment the pouch fell, spraying thin drops of blood over the map. The candle flickered and went out. The spell was over, it seemed. Sarah waited another instant before she felt she could exhale at last. Yes, it was over.

She was about to place the bowl on the floor when something grabbed her, pulling her up and away from the floor. Incredulously, she saw her bent legs hovering a few inches from the duvet, as if she were floating on an invisible cloud. She closed her eyes and braced herself, because she knew what was coming. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could hold on to as she was lifted higher and higher, still holding the bowl. Suddenly, she was thrown against the wall with such force that multi-coloured spots exploded in front of her eyes before she landed with a thump and a soft cry, every bit of her body hurting. Lying on her back, she could see the room circling around her – the weapons’wardrobes, the desks, the oak table, the duvet – and something else. A face.

There was a girl kneeling beside her, bending over her, her face close to Sarah’s. Sarah tried to focus, to take in the girl’s features –
who was she?
– but a wave of nausea took her, and then everything went black.

After some time Sarah came to her senses, her eyes fluttering open. She felt sick, and her head was throbbing. She sat up slowly, holding her head, and felt a stab of pain in her back and in her side. She checked her ribs, her arms and legs, moving them slowly and carefully – nothing was broken.

And then she remembered – the girl. Was someone there, or had it been a vision? She looked around, braced for another attack – but there was nobody. The door was still closed. Sarah dragged herself to her feet – she had to lean on the wall for a second – and limped towards the door. She checked the handle – it was still locked. Nobody could have come in.

Who was that girl?

One thing was sure, she thought, contemplating the hideous mess that the spilled blood had made on her duvet and how she would need to clean the place up: if she could help it, it would be the last time she’d cast that spell.

Shining above me

A canopy of stars

And below me

The ancient domes

Soil demons
. Sarah shuddered, remembering her friend Angela being dragged underground. A ghastly, lingering death, to be slowly suffocated by soil, never to see the light of day again. Angela’s hands sticking out of the mud, desperately trying to hold on to something – and Sarah grabbing her fingers as they slowly disappeared. It was an image she’d never forget. Soil demons were too frightening for words. And yet, there she was, walking alone towards Sean’s house, knowing that two of those creatures had attacked Sean and Harry’s widow, Elodie.

Sarah looked across the street, over the blonde sandstone houses and further on towards the moorland. The shadows were closing, night was drawing in, and she’d have to walk there, on the soft earth in which the soil demons hid. Every step could be the one where a white, bloodless hand closed around her ankle.

Sarah breathed deeply.
I’m not turning back. After all, I haven’t dreamt of soil demons at all
, she said to herself.

But I haven’t dreamt of anything at all in weeks.

Sarah frowned. She’d cast the spell. She’d found where Sean was living. And now, to stop him coming to her, she’d go to him.

Sarah pulled her shoulders back to feel the comforting presence of her
sgian-dubh
slipped into her bra. A useful trick, one that Sean had taught her. Though the idea of carrying a knife in her bra was somewhere between horrible and funny, really.

Her steps echoed on the pavement and into the night. The street was quiet, the lights on in the terraced houses. Most people were home from work now and sitting with their families in peace, the curtains closed. Sarah wrapped her arms around herself and sped up, walking as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. A little park, and after the park – the moorland. Black, deserted. And somewhere about a mile from where she stood, Sean’s house.

Sarah stepped onto the soft, mossy soil. She swallowed. Would a hand come out of the earth? Would a white face appear, mouth open to bite the air blindly, looking for flesh?

She slipped her hands under her jumper, and took out her
sgian-dubh
. Just in case.

She didn’t feel it coming, she didn’t hear it coming, and it didn’t spring out of the ground. The creature stepped behind her and held her in a vice-like grip, scratching at her jacket, shaking her like a dog shakes a rabbit.

Sarah could feel the Surari’s fur against her neck – but no, it wasn’t fur – it felt different – were they feathers? She looked to the hands that had grabbed her waist – they were monstrous, with claws as long as little daggers, tearing at her jacket. Something began to burrow into the back of her neck – something pointed, sharp. Painful.

Because the demon had both her arms in a vicious grip, Sarah couldn’t use the
sgian-dubh
in her defence. Instead, she writhed and struggled, trying to free herself, but getting nowhere. To her horror, she felt one of those clawed hands travelling up her arm and to her neck – the claws felt cold against the throbbing skin of her neck, so thin, with its watermark of veins and arteries just beneath, easily reached, easily torn.

But in moving its hand, the creature released its hold a fraction, giving Sarah just enough time to lift her arm and elbow her attacker in the chest. She used her advantage to turn, her aunt’s
sgian-dubh
in her hands, and she was face to face with her assailant.

She let out a gasp of horror – in front of her there was something feathery and beaked, crowned with a mane of long, straight, lucid black hair. Two black, almond-shaped eyes glared at her from among the feathers – but the gloomy light made it impossible for Sarah to see more. Sarah shook herself and summoned her power. She stared into the Surari’s eyes, expecting the thing to shake and wail under the Midnight gaze – but it didn’t move, it didn’t even flinch.

No demon is immune to the Midnight gaze!
thought Sarah in anger and disbelief.

Sensing her hesitation, the Surari launched itself again towards Sarah. She went to push the
sgian-dubh
into its stomach but she missed, the feathered creature had turned at the last minute. Her hands were burning with the Blackwater – one touch, if held for long enough, would suffice. If only she could touch it, and at the same time avoid those claws.

Sarah and the Surari were face to face again now. It wasn’t any bigger than she was, and it seemed just as slight as her – gaunt, even – had it not been for those claws, and that vicious pointed beak.

After a brief moment of sizing each other up, the demon went for her again. Sarah lifted her
sgian-dubh
, and this time she grazed its arm. Immediately, the creature stopped, holding its wounded arm against itself, frozen. Sarah was dumbfounded. It was just a graze – definitely not enough to kill it. And this was a Surari – one of the most terrifying forces in the world. Why was it standing there like a child crying over a scraped knee? It made no sense.

Sarah saw her chance. She jumped on it, her hands burning, ready to strike with the Blackwater.

And something completely unexpected happened.

The Surari lifted itself out from under Sarah’s astounded gaze and slowly began to levitate away, its black, almond-shaped eyes never leaving Sarah, its arms extended and its legs curled beneath it like a hawk’s legs. It rose further and further up until it was in line with the roofs of the terraced houses, then it did a backwards flip and disappeared towards the city. Sarah hadn’t spoken a word, and the creature hadn’t made a sound.

She was burning with shock and anger.
The Midnight gaze failed. This Surari must be immune to it … or is it me? Is the gaze failing me, like the dreams? Still, it worked on that boy in school – though it was just a touch, not a full attack.

She turned and ran across the moorland, her eyes scanning the sky as she went, still watching her step for things that might come out of the soil – but now she was too furious to be afraid. Sooner or later, she knew she would destroy the demon-bird.

Next time I see you

There will be walls

Elodie ran downstairs and burst into the kitchen. “Someone is here,” she said urgently.

Sean was sharpening his
sgian-dubh
against a kitchen knife. Without missing a beat, he placed the other knife on the counter, the knife still in his hand. “Did you see something?”

“I felt them. Leave it to me,” whispered Elodie. Her lips had taken on a bluish tinge already.

“Wait!” Sean took her by her arm. “Wait!”

Somebody had called his name from behind the closed door. And the voice beyond the door, the voice that spoke his name – that voice he knew.

He flung open the door and there she was, standing on the doorstep, eyes big with apprehension and cheeks red from the cold. Sean stood still, holding himself back.

“Sarah.”

“Can I come in?” she said in a small voice.

“Of course. Of course. You must be freezing. Come and warm yourself,” he said, ushering her into the hallway.

Sarah steeled herself. She hadn’t risked the scrying spell and come all this way to show him how lost she was. She wasn’t going to play straight into his hands.

But she’d missed him so much, and his parting words had haunted her since he had left her the previous night. She needed to find a way to forgive him.

The awkwardness of it all made Sarah blush. But she was determined to do what she had come to do, to say what needed to be said. She was just about to speak when a blonde woman stepped into the hallway.

Sean spoke without turning his eyes away from Sarah. “Just a minute, Elodie.”

Elodie. Harry’s wife
, Sarah thought.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” she blurted out, and immediately regretted her words. They didn’t sound right. She didn’t want him to know that she’d missed him.

Sean’s eyes widened. He was fighting the urge to take her face in his hands and just look at her, look at her properly, the way he hadn’t been able to do for so long.

“Where’s Nicholas?” he said instead.

Sarah hadn’t expected that. “Probably at my house right now. He’s there every night.” Her voice had an imperceptibly petulant undertone.

“Is he?” Sean shrugged. “What a great boyfriend.”

“Yes, well I think who I go out with is not really the main issue here.”

Sean sighed and lowered his eyes. “No. Of course not.”

Sarah read his face: defeat. Her heart contracted painfully. “I need to speak to you. Alone.” She added, glancing towards the living room where Elodie was waiting.

“Of course. Come upstairs. Just don’t attack me, please.” Sean attempted a smile, one of his dimpled smiles that never failed to stir her.

They walked up the musty stairs. “This place is falling down around your ears, Har—I mean Sean.”

“It serves its purpose, I suppose.”

Sarah looked around Sean’s bedroom in dismay. Mould eating the ceiling, wallpaper peeling off in damp curls, a wintry draught from the window that chilled the whole place. Sean read her thoughts. “Like I said, it serves its purpose. And it’s only temporary,” he mumbled.

“It has to be, unless you want to die from the cold. And … mould poisoning, or something.”

Only then Sean noticed the mark on Sarah’s black jacket. “Sarah?” he asked, pointing at the torn material.

Sarah nodded. “It happened on the way here.”

“Jesus, Sarah!” Sean placed his hands on her arms and looked into her face. Sarah was startled – his touch was sudden, unexpected. But she didn’t move, and she held his gaze. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. The name had changed – Harry Midnight had become Sean Hannay – but those clear blue eyes she had looked into when waking up from one of her terrifying dreams, when she thought she was about to be killed, when she’d found her mother’s diary, when the world was full of threat and he had provided her only place of refuge – those eyes were still the same.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please don’t make me leave your side again.”

I love you
, he didn’t say.

“I forgive you,” she said.

Don’t leave my side again
, she didn’t say.

“Elodie. This is Sarah.”

Elodie looked from one to the other, and back again. The expression on Sean’s face had taken her by surprise.
Sarah’s presence makes him happy
, she realized, and the thought stung, for reasons she couldn’t really understand.