Tide (3 page)

“I’ll protect you, Sarah. It’s for your own good.”

Sarah threw up her hands. “You’ll protect me? Like my parents did?” she spat. “This conversation is over.” She strode off, leaving Juliet to hurry after her through the shop.

*

Neither of them noticed the hunched, thin figure who’d sat at a table behind them, at such an angle that he wouldn’t be seen, but he could see them. Neither of them, therefore, was aware of the fact that the figure’s eyes had never left them throughout the conversation, that he’d heard every word Sarah and Juliet said, and that he’d followed them on their way out.

I saw you falling slowly

For many years

Death told me

She’d come for you first

Of course, Juliet insisted on driving Sarah home. There was no chance Sarah could convince her aunt to let her go back by train.

Sarah didn’t say a word as they travelled along the motorway, her cello resting on the backseat and her thoughts all tangled up.
My parents’ will. Selfish, selfish and stupid.

But it wasn’t, really, it wasn’t stupid or selfish. A girl alone in a huge house – it was a risk in any circumstance, even more so if the girl in question was a precious Secret heir, and a Dreamer. The selfish thing had been not to teach her to fight – to leave her helpless and force her to learn fast, and alone.

So much for protecting me
, she said to herself. All she knew when they’d died was that she was a Dreamer, and that her parents used her dreams to know if there were demons around, and where. That was her knowledge of the Midnight mission, in a nutshell. A drop in the sea of what she should have learnt.

Each Secret Family has one Dreamer whose gift awakens at the age of thirteen – and they all pay a terrible price for it. Their nightmares are a torture they can’t escape, and one over which they have no control. They dream of the demons – or Surari, as they’re known in the ancient language – that seep into the world. Sometimes the Dreamers themselves become victims, hurt or even murdered in the course of their visions, and although they suffer no physical damage, they have to endure the pain and the panic as if it were happening for real. In her dreams, Sarah had been burnt, drowned, buried; most nights waking up screaming in a house that was often empty, with her parents out hunting. The constant terror had heightened Sarah’s obsessive nature. She’d wake up from some terrifying ordeal to clean and tidy and straighten anything she could put her hands on. Her rituals were her protection against the chaos in her life.

Every night, alone in her huge, silent house, waiting for her parents to come back from the hunt, she performed her routines of wiping and sorting and aligning. If she did everything perfectly, in the right order, the correct number of times, her parents would return. If anything was out of place, if she neglected the smallest detail, her parents would be killed, and it’d be all her fault. It was on that basis that she had lived her life.

Her pact with God hadn’t worked. In the end, her parents were dead. But if she stopped, more tragedy might befall her.

The Dreamer’s duty was to write everything they saw in their dream diary, so that the hunters of the family would know what and where to hunt. Sarah’s diary was a black, leather-bound volume that had caused her endless anguish and symbolized all the fear she’d had to endure throughout her childhood. That volume was now a mound of cold ash in the fireplace, and its leather cover had floated down the nearby river towards the sea. Sarah had torn it page by page in a fit of anger towards her parents, towards her destiny. Burning her diary and throwing the remains into the river hadn’t changed her predicament, but it had freed her from so many terrible memories. There didn’t seem to be any need for another dream diary. Since the Scottish Valaya had been defeated and its leader Cathy Duggan killed, Sarah’s dreams had all but disappeared. At first it had been a relief, after the fraught few weeks when she’d been under nearly constant attack and dreaming like never before – but the truth was that the eerie silence that filled her nights was making her increasingly uncomfortable. Was it the quiet before the storm?

Sean would know. In those few short months he, as Harry, had become her family, her world. Because her “cousin” was living with her, Juliet allowed Sarah to stay in her home, abiding by her parents’ will. She would never forget his arrival during these worst of times, to give her a ray of hope in such darkness.

But he had lied. Harry Midnight was dead. Sean Hannay was his real name. Sean Hannay was the man who had pretended to be her cousin, had stolen his identity, the man who might have killed him, too. She couldn’t be sure.

Sarah’s anger at Sean’s betrayal had been so great she had nearly used the Blackwater on him, the deadly Midnight power that could dissolve any living creature, but she had stopped herself in time. She shuddered at the memory of how close she had come. She refused to listen to his reasons, she refused to speak to him at all, and had sent him out of her house, out of her life. The night Cathy Duggan was finally killed was the last time Sarah had seen Sean.

She missed him terribly.

Despite everything, she missed him every day, every hour. Not even Nicholas could fill his absence, even as persistent and as heady as his presence could be. But Sean was a liar. He had made his way into her home, into her heart, on false pretences. He wasn’t her cousin, he wasn’t a Midnight – he was someone else, of whom Sarah knew a name and nothing more.

Sarah felt that her upset must be written all over her face, and turned towards the car window, letting her hair fall between her and Juliet and cover her like a curtain.

She didn’t want to have anything to do with Sean ever again.

She wanted to hear his voice.

She wanted him to come back.

She wanted him to go away, and disappear forever.

She didn’t know what she wanted.

And in the middle of this swirling galaxy of Sean thoughts stood Nicholas.

It was Nicholas who’d explained all that Sarah’s parents and Sean hadn’t told her, in their vain attempt to protect her. He had told her about the existence of other Secret Families, about the Sabha, the Secret Council that bound them together, and how the Scottish Valaya, the coven they had destroyed, was just one of many throughout the world.

She was still in danger; Nicholas had made that clear. But she had him on her side. Of all the humans and Surari she had encountered over the past months, nothing and nobody could compare to him. The way he mastered the Elementals, the spirits of the elements, bending them to his will; the way he could call those blue flames to burn from his fingertips; the way he seemed to make her forget everything just by looking into her eyes … He had saved her life by killing Cathy, and now he was saving her from being completely alone. He had proved himself to her, over and over again.

And still there were times, even now, when Sarah felt utterly bereft, as if there was an abyss opening right in front of her feet.

Is this what love is?

Sarah had no answer. Nicholas was, after all, her first boyfriend.
Was this love, this heady feeling, this sense of burning up and not caring about anything, anyone but him
? Not caring for herself, either. Still, in spite of her doubts, she couldn’t stay away from Nicholas. He had been there for her when nobody else was. And she was happy, wasn’t she? As happy as she could be in the mess her life now was.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

And there he was, Nicholas, waiting on the stone steps of her house. Sarah could feel Juliet’s gaze burning into her back as he put his arms around her and kissed her.

“Well done.” Nicholas waved to Juliet over Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah turned to see Aunt Juliet waving back, a smile on her face. Her stomach knotted all of a sudden, and a feeling of sorrow, of loss, overcame her for a moment. She watched Juliet drive away as if you’d watch a drowning person sink underwater. She closed her eyes for a second, astonished at the intensity of the grief, wondering where it’d come from.

“Sarah?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a million miles away. I said ‘well done’.”

“Thanks. Thanks.” Sarah stretched her mouth into a smile, but the dreadful feeling of loss was still gripping her. “But I don’t know how it went yet. I won’t know until March.”

Nicholas took her cello from her as she unlocked the door. “
I
know,” he told her. “I’ve got a feeling your performance today knocked them all out.”

“I hope so. Come on in.” She opened the door and removed her shoes before walking in to the hallway. Nicholas knew by now of her rituals. He stood back as she hung up their coats, trying in vain to make them sit straight. Sarah’s obsessions amused him, like a charming eccentricity

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked.

“I’m not hungry, thanks.” He slipped his arms around her waist. Sarah tensed for a moment – she had never enjoyed being touched.
But shouldn’t it be different, with your boyfriend?
Nicholas kissed the top of her head and she breathed in his signature scent of soil and woodsmoke.

“Actually, I need to talk to you,” she began.

“Talking is not what I had in mind!” he laughed. “But sure, let’s go.”

Sarah ignored the pang of hunger in her stomach. She was ravenous after her long day, and she would have loved to cook something. But it was somehow easier to take Nicholas’s lead. That was the way things seemed to work between them.

Nicholas had appeared in her dreams over and over again, before they ever met in real life. She used to call him “Leaf”, because he’d leave autumn leaves on her pillow, on her doorstep, among her books, for her to find. She treasured them, pressing them into the silver photo album Juliet had given her for Christmas. Nine transparent pockets, nine leaves – red, gold and yellow. She’d kept them hidden under her bed so that Sean wouldn’t find them. Sean was always wary of him.

Nicholas hunkered down in front of the fireplace, fuel briquettes and little twigs piled up, ready to light. He touched them with his long, pale fingers, and blue flames started burning at once, silently. Sarah wasn’t sure if she loved those blue flames or if they spooked her, dancing blue in place of a hot, red fire.

“Nicholas.”

“Yes? What’s on your mind?”

“It’s not over, is it?”

“Between us? It’s just started, are you ditching me already?” he said in mock alarm.

“Please, be serious. You know what I mean. You said you’d tell me everything, but there’s still so much I don’t understand.”

“OK, OK. Sorry. No, of course it’s not over. But I’m here to protect you, so what’s the problem?”

“Cathy’s Valaya … you said it’s not the only one.”

“No. There are many of them.”

“Why now? What has happened to … to organize the Surari in this way?”

Nicholas hesitated for a second. “I see no point worrying about that. All we need to do is stay alive, and with me here, nothing can hurt you, Sarah.”

She tried to read his expression. His black eyes were very lucid, very bright – but impenetrable, like the surface of a still, dark loch – it was impossible to gauge what lay underneath. He took her in his arms and she rested her head on his chest, thinking she’d only stay there a minute, time for the world to stop swirling.

An hour later, she was still curled into him, as Nicholas stroked her hair slowly, hypnotically.

“Nicholas …”

“Yes?”

“There was something else.” Sarah tried to feel her way out of the fog that enveloped her thoughts.

“Tell me.”

“I need … I need something to eat first.”

“Is that what you wanted to say?” he laughed.

“No, no. Just, I haven’t eaten since last night. Come on.” Nicholas followed her into the kitchen, where she stood in front of her cupboards, and sighed. When Nicholas was around, cooking seemed a huge effort somehow. And to get her kitchen dirty filled her with dread. She’d have to wipe each surface a million times over.

“Nicholas,” she began.

While she was trying to decide how to ask him to go to Islay with her – so difficult, when her brain felt as if it was full of cotton wool – a little black ghost with a white paw crossed the room, as quick as lightning, and jumped onto her lap.

“Shadow, my sweetie.” The cat purred and burrowed into Sarah’s neck. Since the whole Cathy business, she had become very clingy, especially when Nicholas was around. She liked Nicholas even less than she liked Sean, who had sent her to sleep when he’d first arrived at the house. He had touched her between her eyes and put her out cold. Shadow had never forgotten that, let alone forgiven it.

Sarah cuddled the cat for a bit, placing little kisses all over her fur under Nicholas’s impatient gaze. He didn’t like Sarah giving attention to anything else but him. Finally she let Shadow go, and put the kettle on. A cup of tea with lots of sugar was the safest option.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” asked Nicholas as Sarah wiped away stains only she could see.

She took a deep breath. “My parents’ will.” She moved on to polishing her already spotless kitchen table. “You see, I am not allowed to live in this house on my own. Not until I’m eighteen.” Her hands were shaking with nerves and hunger.

“I don’t understand. What happens if you live here on your own?”

“I’d have to renounce everything, including this house. The condition for me to inherit is that I don’t live alone. And I can’t lose this place. I just can’t.”

“Are you asking me to move in, Sarah?” Nicholas touched her arm.

“No, no way!” she said vehemently, and then blushed when she saw his stricken face. “We’ve been together a month!”

“Yes. But one day …”

Sarah blushed even more, her cheeks and neck blotched red in a way he found impossibly cute. Suddenly he remembered someone else – someone else he had loved who blushed just like that, red roses on her amber cheeks.

He swallowed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to put you under pressure,” he said. “It’s just that with my parents being abroad so much, and your parents … gone, and the dangers that surround us, we might as well stick together.”