Tide (5 page)

Another girl he wouldn’t remember the name of, who held no meaning, who left him with no memories. Just a short-lived relief from the voices that screamed constantly in his mind, from the terror that grasped him more and more often as the time to be bound in the Shadow World grew closer. A desperate way to grab some crumbs of human life for himself before he’d have to shed his human form and his spirit life would begin. A warm body, lips that smiled, the need to eat and drink and sleep – a girl who smelled and felt like life.

Until she fell asleep, and the dark closed on him again. He considered waking her up and throwing her out, but he had no energy left for that – the voices were crippling him already.

There was no escape.

You might think that being a Dreamer is a curse, Sarah, and it is – but you have no idea what it’s like to be born of a mortal woman and
of the most powerful Surari of all time. Try that, then you’ll realize that in comparison, being a Dreamer is as easy as breathing.

Nicholas sat up on his bed and took his head in his hands, moaning softly. The voices from the Shadow World were ripping his mind, refusing to be silenced any longer.

The night was spent in agony.

A few painful, burning hours later, the blue-haired girl woke with a smile, make-up strewn on her face. With her eyes still closed, she stretched out her arm and felt the sheet beside her, looking for Nicholas. But the bed was empty.

He was sitting on the floor in a corner, his arms around his knees, sunken, red-rimmed eyes. When he saw she was awake, he got up without looking at her, crossed the room in his bare feet and stood framed in the doorway.

“I’m going out. By the time I come back I want you gone.”

A hidden place

Heather and myrtle

Gorse and mist

The in-between

Take me there with you.

Sean

I hold Elodie against me again. My mouth feels strange, stretched into a smile like that. How long has it been since I last smiled? Or laughed? Even the sound of my voice right now, so happy, seems to belong to someone else.

And then a terrible dread hits me: that the heir Elodie was protecting, Aiko Ayanami, is dead, and that’s why she’s here.

I take her by the shoulders and look into her eyes. “Aiko?”

“Aiko is alive.” And then she corrects herself. “She was alive when I left. One of the Gamekeepers I lived with is looking after her. But …”

“What happened?” I urge her gently.

“A Gamekeeper – a
friend
– was killed.” Elodie clasps her hands over her mouth, her voice laden with unshed tears. “She was so young. Marina Frison was her name. I had to go, Sean. I couldn’t hide away any longer. We must do something more than just protect the heirs. We must do something more.”

She’s getting distressed, her eyes feverish all of a sudden. I hold her hands against my chest. “Yes, yes. We must. But first, come on, come and sit near the fire. You need something to eat, and some sleep. You look terrible.”

“Thanks!” She smiles in the midst of her tears.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant …” I lead her to one of the worn, threadbare sofas.

“I know. I do look terrible, though.” She leans against me as we sit. “I’ve been feeling strange lately. I’m sure it’s just the strain of hiding, watching, waiting …” She shakes her head. “Never mind. Sean, there’s something I need to tell you.” Her brown eyes burn into mine. “I have seen Sarah’s death in a vision, on my way here.”

I stop in my tracks, my heart in my throat.

“She was being murdered. I couldn’t see his face, the killer’s, I mean. I don’t know what he was doing, but Sarah was dying right there, slowly in front of him.”

I feel a terrible cold invade me, sharper and crueller than the winter cold outside, in spite of the sweet-smelling peat burning on the hearth. I stand and stoop in front of the fire to turn the peat with the metal tongs. “When?” My voice is deadly calm, deadly quiet, though my heart is beating so hard I think the whole world can hear it.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t spot any clues, when, or where.”

“And the man? Who was he? A demon?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t make out his features.”

How far in the future is Elodie’s vision? And who is the man, or demon, who’s destined to do it? I walk to the window, watching the purple sky turning orange over the hills as dawn breaks slowly. “I must go and see Sarah. I must tell her. She’s not …” I take a deep breath. “She won’t speak to me.”

Elodie is aghast. “Why? What happened?”

“Harry had asked me to take his place. His identity. Did you know?”

“Yes. He often mentioned how distrusting the Midnights are. I think he felt it was the only way.”

“It was. But when Sarah found out … You see, the woman who told her, Cathy Duggan” – her name is so odious to me – “was the head of the Scottish Valaya. She’s dead now. She told Sarah that I killed Harry to take his place.”

“Oh no …”

“I don’t know if Sarah really believes that. But she knows I’ve been lying. She threw me out of her house, she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m still guarding her, of course.”

“Is that where you’ve been all night?” Elodie crosses the room to stand beside me. She takes my still icy hands in hers. “That’s why you’re freezing.”

“Yes. I was keeping watch.”

“We need to tell Sarah everything. No more lies.”

“I know. I know. You see, someone is … with her.”

“Someone? Another heir?”

“He
says
he is. I don’t know if it’s true. His name is Nicholas Donal.”

Elodie frowns. “I’ve heard of the Donal family, yes, but I never knew any of them, and I don’t think Harry did either.”

“The thing is … There’s something strange going on. Nicholas and Sarah are together now. It happened so quickly.”

Elodie looks at me as if to say
what’s so strange about that?

“You don’t know Sarah. She is … she was … It’s just that I think this Nicholas has some kind of a weird hold on her. I don’t know. I …” I stop myself from saying any more. I just can’t tell Elodie about my feelings for Sarah.

“I’ll come with you. I’ll speak to her.”

“No. I’ve got to do it. You can come with me, but I need to speak to her alone. I need to convince her to let me back into her life. ”

“Fine.” She shrugs in a very French way. “I need to show you something. Wait.” Elodie takes hold of the brown canvas rucksack she had left beside the fireplace, and takes out something wrapped in a linen cloth. “I took this from Harry’s desk.” She unwraps the book, carefully holding the linen cloth. I notice it’s embroidered in red thread with the letters MF, intertwined in a delicate pattern. I take it gently from her hands and examine it. On the cover there’s a grim illustration: a girl in a long dress, wandering in a wood at night. The girl holds a stick with a skull perched on top of it, and blue rays of light are streaming out of the skull’s eyes.

“I went through Harry’s things, looking for a hint, a clue about what’s happening. I found this. And now I think he
wanted
me to find it. It was in a box on his desk, under lock and key. I took it, together with some letters he sent me. I wanted to keep a part of him with me.”

I nod.

“I read it over and over again, but I just couldn’t understand why this book was precious enough to be kept in a locked box. And then, on the way here, I saw something. Look—” She takes the book from my hand and opens it a few pages in. “Look at this word. There’s a little dot under the S. It’s so tiny, I didn’t see it for ages. And look, there too.”

“Oh, yes.”

“And there are others throughout the book. When I made a list of all the letters that had been marked, I didn’t recognize them as anything English or French. I can’t even pronounce them. So I began to think it could be Gaelic. You see, Harry’s family spoke Gaelic, and Harry had a few Gaelic books around. I’d seen the language before. Harry has used asterisks here and there, and I think they mark the different words.” Elodie takes the book from me and opens to the last page. She’s scribbled a few words on the back cover.

Sann*an*Ile*a*tha*n*fhreagairt*cum*faire*air
Morag*airson*gur*ise*an*iuchair
.

I recognize it as Gaelic, but I can’t pronounce it either, and I have no idea what it means.

“The only word I understand is …” I begin.

But Elodie is quick. “… 
Morag
,” she says. “Could it be Morag Midnight, Harry’s grandmother?”

“Yes. I’m certain that it is. Sarah told me that Morag used to speak Gaelic with her dad, and she can speak it a bit herself. She’ll know what it means. But why did Harry leave you a message in Gaelic, knowing you wouldn’t understand?”

“Maybe it was a way to tell me that I needed to go to Scotland and find Sarah. And you. I mean, I couldn’t risk asking anyone, or Google it or something. The Sabha’s people are everywhere, and he was aware of that.”

“I’ll show it to Sarah when I go and see her.”

“I won’t be parted from this book, Sean.
We’ll
show it to Sarah together if she agrees to listen to you.”

“Yes.” I know Elodie is right. What if something were to happen to me tonight and the book fell into Nicholas’s hands? Or got lost?

“What about Mike?” Elodie asks. “Have you heard from him? Is he still in Louisiana with Niall Flynn?”

“I don’t know. We were in constant contact until a few weeks ago. Then, nothing.”

Elodie wraps her arms around herself. “Maybe they’re hiding somewhere else. I can’t think that … I can’t believe … Harry had complete faith in Mike. I’m sure they’re alive,” she says. She doesn’t sound sure at all.

“Yes. Of course. Harry always told me that Niall wa—
is
– amazing.”
Is
. He
is
amazing. There’s no way I’m using the past tense until I know for sure what’s happened. I shake my head. “I can’t believe you’re here, Elodie.”

She smiles, her shy, bashful Elodie smile. “It’s so good to see you, Sean. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” She looks so young. And so weary.

“You need some rest now.”

“So do you.”

I shrug. “You know me, I never sleep.”

“You must. Hey, you must.” She looks at me, concerned. “I’ll have a quick shower and make us something to eat, then I want you to go straight to bed,
d’accord
?”

I look into her face, and her features are so familiar, so … Elodie. My kind, old friend who’s been with me since the beginning of it all.

“Deal. But I’ll cook,” I warn her.

“Oh, not that again!” she laughs, and the sound of her laughter is so inconsistent with the situation – a ray of sunshine in the middle of a storm. “I’m not that bad!”

“You’re a terrible cook, Elodie Midnight. Terrible. Admit it.”

“I’ll never admit it!”

“Even Harry used to say—”

I don’t finish the sentence. Elodie’s face is frozen, her mouth open in a little “o”. I’ve hurt her. I shouldn’t have mentioned him like that, laughing.

“At last,” she whispers.

“What … what do you mean?”

“It’s the first time I hear his name spoken like this. You know, in a normal conversation. Not about the Sabha, or his death or whatever. Like we actually used to have a life, me and him. Not a normal life, but – well, it was our life. And there was more to it than all this … destruction.”

I wonder if any of us will ever lead normal lives again. Or a life at all.

If only you and me

Meant something more

Than bittersweet memories

Sean

It’s nearly midday. Elodie is sleeping, snug among the sofa cushions, like a child. I have wrapped the duvet around her and brushed her hair away from her face. I should sleep too – I’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours now – but of course I can’t. My days and nights are a daze, mixed up in what seems like a constant, freezing twilight. Making myself invisible for such long periods has a strange effect on my body. My breathing gets slower, my blood goes cold, my metabolism slows down: like a sort of frozen state, a kind of sleep that gives no rest to the body, but instead wears it out. I’m not sure how long I can keep my vigil up.

I watch Elodie as she sleeps. She couldn’t stand being hidden in Italy, waiting and hoping to come out of this alive. She couldn’t stand it, and neither can I. The Secret Families are being decimated, the Surari are stronger than ever – soon there will be nobody left to protect humanity from them. We need to rise up and confront the Enemy, not just try and survive, hiding away like mice in their holes.

My fingers close around the protection charm Sarah made for me. I always carry it around my neck – to keep a piece of Sarah with me.

Finally, I shake myself and take a hot shower. Changing into clean, warm clothes is such a relief. After that, I’m at a loss, as I wait for night to fall again so I can look for Sarah. It’s her audition for the Royal Conservatoire, today – the eighth of December. I remember when she got the letter confirming the date – in the middle of Cathy’s attack, not knowing if an hour later we’d still be alive. That letter meant so much to her. Music means so much to her.

Sometimes, as I sit still and hidden in her garden, I build a little world in my head. A world with no Surari, no Secret Families, no Gamekeepers. A world where Sarah and I meet like two normal people – a doctor and a cellist – somewhere in the world, here in Edinburgh, or Christchurch, or Tokyo, who cares? Anywhere in the world where we can be ourselves.

Just Sarah and Sean, no lies, no secrets.

I might as well try and get some rest. I force myself to lie on my bed, trying without success to invoke sleep. Out of the window I can see the top of the pines, swaying in the breeze against the milky sky, and wonder if it’s going to snow soon.

“Hello.” Elodie’s face, framed by her blonde hair, appears in the doorway.

I sit up, propping myself against the pillows. “You’re awake. Enjoyed your nap?”