Tide (12 page)

“Harry’s wife,” said Sarah.

“Yes.”

They looked at each other for a second, and Elodie’s expression was harder than she intended. Sarah held her gaze, not giving anything away.

“Sit down, Sarah. Here, near the fire.” Sean led her to the warmth. He was concerned by her frail appearance. “Coffee? Something to eat?” he offered.

Sarah half-smiled. Sean seemed to think caffeine was the answer to everything. She remembered once, after a terrible attack where they both nearly got strangled by a seven-foot tall demon and Sean had been hit over the head with such force that he’d passed out, after coming to he’d gone straight to the kitchen to make himself an espresso.

“Yes please,” she said, surprising herself. “I’m starving.”

And she was. It wasn’t the time and place to explain to Sean how little she’d been eating, how every time she was around Nicholas she lost any interest in food. But now her stomach was rumbling. She was reminded of when Harry –
Sean
– had first arrived, how that night she had been able to eat properly for the first time since her parents’ death.

“I’m on it,” said Sean, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Sarah and Elodie in an awkward silence, studying each other from under their eyelashes. Thankfully, he was back in a few minutes with steaming coffee and some toast. Sarah tucked in, relishing every mouthful.

“Sarah was attacked,” Sean explained to Elodie.

“You can’t be left alone,” the French girl remarked at once. She sounded genuinely worried, but her implication that Sarah couldn’t fend for herself annoyed her no end.

“I’m here, am I not?” she snapped.

Elodie lowered her head and Sarah felt strangely triumphant.

“What was it? Did you kill it?” asked Sean. He waited while she finished her toast, noticing how fast she ate it.

“I’ve never seen a Surari like that before,” Sarah answered, cleaning her hands carefully on the napkin. “For real or in my dreams. It had a bird’s face … and clawed hands. But the rest of it looked quite human – arms and legs in all the right places. It was dark, though, and I didn’t kill it. It … flew away.”

“Flew?”

Sarah nodded.

“This means it’s still around,” hissed Elodie.

Sarah ignored her again.

“How did you find the cottage?” asked Sean, apparently unaware of the tension between Sarah and Elodie.

“Guess.” Sarah twisted to lift her jumper slightly. On her lower back there was a red, angry mark that was beginning to turn blue.

Sean winced. “The scrying spell,” he guessed, remembering what had happened the time they’d cast that spell together.

“Oh, and this.” Sarah brushed her hair away, revealing a blue bump on her forehead. “At least the demon-bird only shred my jacket and not my skin. By the way, this is yours.” She buried her hand inside her jeans pocket and took out the red velvet pouch.

“My protection charm. I must have left it when … when I …”
When I pinned you down, trying to stop you from using the Midnight gaze.

“Yes.” Sarah knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Oh God, Sarah! There’s your blood on it. I wish you had never cast that spell. You should have just asked me!”

“Well, I managed it
myself
, Sean. I’m here now,” she said coolly, biting into a second slice of toast.

Elodie looked from one to the other again, trying to take it all in. There was something between them, something she was no part of. Her heart sank, and she didn’t even know why.

“We have something to show you.”

She took a book from the mantelpiece and sat beside Sarah at the fireplace. Sean joined them, and the two blonde heads and the black one bent over the book.

“Harry gave me this before I left. He wrote a message in it. It’s in Gaelic,” said Elodie, showing Sarah the scribbled sentence.

“
S ann an Ile a tha n fhreagairt. Cum faire air Morag, airson gur ise an iuchair
,” murmured Sarah without hesitation. “The accents are missing.”

“OK, but what does it mean?” said Elodie impatiently.

“Did Harry leave this message for you?”

“Yes.”

“We think that Harry knew Elodie would need you to translate it. That’s why he wrote it in Gaelic,” explained Sean.

“So what does it mean?” Elodie repeated.

Sarah sat back in her chair. “It means I was right. I had a hunch I had to go to Islay, to Midnight Hall. That there I’d find out something more that I need to know, something about all this … and about my family as well. The message Harry sent us says:
The answer lies on Islay. Watch over Morag, she’s the key.
Morag Midnight, my grandmother.”

“Watch over Morag? As in, look after her? It doesn’t make sense,” pondered Sean. Sarah shrugged, as if to say
that’s what it says
.

“We must all to go to Islay, then,” Elodie said quickly.

“No need. Nicholas is coming with me.”

“Can you trust him, Sarah? Can you?” he snapped.

“Can I trust
you
, Sean? Because you lied to me. Over and over again.” Sarah’s anger had seeped through once again.

“How many times do you want me to apologize?” yelled Sean.

“Fine. Come with me, then. But Nicholas is my boyfriend.” Sarah crossed her arms. “He’s coming too.”

“You don’t know him! I can’t let you.”

“You can’t
let me
? Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?
I
decide, Sean.”

“No you don’t, Sarah.” Elodie’s voice had a strange note to it. Her lips were ever so slightly blue. Sean tensed. “We decide together. Harry – my husband – lost his life because of this war. He trusted us to sort this mess after he was gone. I won’t let him down.”

“Someone else to tell me what to do, Elodie Midnight?”

The two girls glared at each other, their eyes flashing.

“Sarah.” Sean reached out his hand. With Elodie’s lips darkening and Sarah’s eyes beginning to glimmer bright green, things could turn dangerous.

But Sarah blinked. “I need to go home now. I promised Bryony she could come up and take some pictures in the garden tonight.” She put her jacket on and wrapped her scarf around her neck twice, the way she always did. Just seeing that familiar gesture broke Sean’s heart in two.

“Bryony? Another heir?” gasped Elodie. “Did you know about this, Sean?”

“No, no. Bryony is not from a Secret Family.”

“Your friend is not a Secret heir? How do you manage that?” asked Elodie, genuinely surprised.

“I don’t. My life is chaos, as you can see.” Sarah shrugged.

“At least Elodie and I will be around.” Sean frowned.

“No need. Nicholas will be there.”

Sean massaged his forehead. “Again! Sarah. Honestly. You have to make everything awkward! You and Bryony will be strolling around that enormous garden of yours in the middle of the night.”

“We’ll be fine. Thanks for the toast. I’m going.”

“Jesus, Sarah! Why did you come here at all if you don’t want me back in your life?” Sean looked stricken, and Sarah wavered.

“The thing is, Bryony and Nicholas never met.”

“She’s never met Nicholas? Your best friend never met your … boyfriend?” the last word was dripping with disdain.

“There’s never been an opportunity.” Sarah looked away.

A bitter sort of satisfaction filled Sean’s heart. “You avoided them coming across each other, didn’t you? You’re worried about Bryony sensing something weird about Nicholas.”

“Of course not. Why would I?”

Sean exploded. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. “Because he
is
weird, and you know it. And you’re weird when you’re around him. And it was all awfully fast, wasn’t it? The two of you getting together. What is he doing to you, Sarah?”

“Sean, please,” whispered Sarah. Something pained, something frail in her voice made Sean ashamed of his outburst. She’d gone from strong to soft in the space of a few minutes, the way Sean knew so well.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Sean said. “I’m sorry. I’ll hide, OK? I’ll do what I usually do. But I’ll be there.”

“Fine. Fine then.” She held up her hands in defeat. “Come with me. But only so that we can be sure that Bryony is safe. And like I said, you can come to Islay with me … 
and Nicholas
.”

Sarah’s words resounded in the silence. Sean closed his eyes and breathed. Breathed deeply, for the first time in a long, long while. In spite of the mention of Nicholas, a dagger in Sean’s side, she’d finally accepted him back.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Sarah stepped out into the hall, and Sean went to follow. But Elodie wasn’t moving.

“I’ll be there in a sec,” he whispered to Sarah, and walked back into the living room. Elodie was leaning on the wall beside the window, her arms crossed.

“’You OK?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, sorry. Going to get my jacket now.”

Sean took hold of her arm gently before she was out of the room. “Elodie. We’ve known each other for a long time. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Another pretend smile.

And then, surprisingly, unexpectedly, she pushed herself into Sean’s arms, all soft cream and white, hair like gold between his fingers, holding on to him – leaving him wondering why this good news, Sarah letting them into her life again, didn’t feel good to her at all. He held her tighter, hiding his face in her neck, trying to make her feel safe. Elodie always had a faint vanilla scent, like a sweet shop, but there was a strange note to it now. Something too sweet, too ripe. Something that worried Sean.

Elodie wrapped her arms around his neck, and her mind was cast back to Marina Frison and her prediction for Elodie’s life. Marina had fed her a pomegranate and then she’d placed it to burn into the wood stove. The pomegranate had come out intact.

It means you’ll love again
, she’d said.

Elodie held Sean tighter.

Sarah had walked into the cold, clear night and was looking up to the sky, waiting. The night was icy and the sky full of stars. But what was Sean doing? She turned around, blowing on her frozen fingers, and then she saw them. Silhouetted against the living room window were Sean and Elodie, in each other’s arms.

Sarah brought a hand to her throat. She felt breathless again.

She forced herself to tear her eyes away from them. Nicholas was probably waiting for her on her doorstep, wondering where she was. She took her phone out of her pocket and switched it back on.

Fourteen missed calls and a message, all from Nicholas. The text chilled her blood, when it should have made her heart beat in anticipation.

I’m waiting for you.

Tainted sometimes

Shines like gold

Sean

When we arrived, Nicholas was standing beside the fire in Sarah’s living room. He’d clearly lit it himself, given it was blue. Those freaky blue flames that spurt from his hands give me the creeps. And Nicholas gives me the creeps even more. How is he in her house already? Has she given him a set of keys? Or does he have ways to open doors, like me?

Or is he living with her now?

His eyes narrow briefly as he sees me following Sarah through the door. For a moment I rejoice in his bewilderment, but he regains his composure almost immediately.

“Sean.” He nods. His eyes are just as black as his ravens’, wide and lucid, with a disturbing hint of slow-burning embers. And he’s huge. I’d almost forgotten. I’m not short myself, but he must be well over six foot five. Broad, too.

Freaky.

“Nicholas Donal,” I say without offering him my hand.

“So. Sarah forgave your lies then,” he replies immediately. What he’s really saying is: she made a mistake.

“Yes. Nicholas. She did. And I realize that I never thanked you for saving her life. Our lives.”

Sarah turns to look at me, incredulous. I know what she’s thinking.
Is this really Sean talking? Sean showing Nicholas Donal gratitude?
Thing is, it’s the only way. I can hardly assault him, as much as I’d like to. He’d toast me with those finger flames of his, for a start. I’m under no illusions as to how powerful this guy is.

Sarah sits down heavily in one of the chairs. She looks drained all of a sudden, and a strange, hazy expression has fallen on her features. Or is it my imagination? It can’t be. I know it isn’t.

“That’s what we’re meant to do, us Secret heirs. Help each other. But of course, I forgot – you’re not an heir, are you?” Nicholas says, a slight smile playing on his lips.

I will my temper to stay in check.
You’re right. I’m not an heir. But who are
you
, really? You look as if you’ve just walked out of a bloody grave.

“Sean’s a Gamekeeper,” Sarah intervenes, the slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. Trouble in paradise?

“Impressive,” he replies, and I allow myself to fantasize about my
sgian-dubh
making its way into his throat.

“Nicholas Donal.” Elodie’s silvery voice breaks the tension, but only momentarily.

Nicholas looks at her, and he freezes – just for the millionth part of an instant, but I notice. His eyes grow even blacker, shinier, like a kestrel that’s spotted a mouse.

But Elodie doesn’t waver. “I’m Elodie Midnight,” she says.

“Elodie. Of course. I’m sorry … I’m sorry to hear about Harry.” Nicholas lowers his head.

Elodie frowns and looks away. My eyes dart between them, and it’s like seeing the two halves of the Tao – Elodie, all cream and white, blonde and fair, and Nicholas, dressed in black, raven hair, eyes like coal.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and turns towards Sarah. “Your friend is here.”

“Bryony? At the door? I didn’t hear the bell,” Sarah replies, still unaware of Elodie’s psychic abilities.

“She’s at the gate. She’s walking up the path now.”

I catch Nicholas looking at Elodie again, studying her face – as if she has something he wants.

As if she
is
something he wants.