Sarah was dressed already: black leggings, a blouse and short black skirt, and her ever-present boots. Her hair was tied back in her usual perfect ponytail. She had only slept for four hours, but her sleep had been heavy. She felt rested, in a strange, charged kind of way. Like a coil ready to spring.
She thought of what happened the night before, of the demon-dog that had attacked her in her own home. Never, never before had a creature dared to attack the Midnight home. But with her parents gone …
One thing is for sure: I’m not going to sit here and wait to be killed.
The Valaya. Human beings, not demons. People like her, like her friends, her teachers, her neighbours, her classmates. People who looked into the abyss and decided they liked it, that that’s where they belonged; who formed an alliance with the ancient forces of the land, to claim it back for themselves. She never thought that anyone would ever willingly ally themselves with demons. Not after all she’d seen.
For the thousandth time, she went through the list of names she had copied from her parents’ files the night before.
Michael Sheridan
Sheila Douglas
John Burton
Katy McHarg
Simon Knowles
Mary Brennan
Catherine Hollow
Sarah took her head in her hands. I’ve never hurt a human being before. I don’t want to, I can’t …
A knock on the door.
“Sarah, are you awake?” It was Harry.
“Yes, come in.”
He looked terrible, with purple shadows under his eyes, a faded T-shirt and the same jeans as the day before.
“Did you sleep OK?” he asked.
“Not much, but OK. How did you … not sleep?”
Harry smiled. “Exactly. Would you like some coffee?”
“I’ll make it.” Even in the most dramatic of circumstances, Sarah wasn’t going to relinquish her perfect cappuccino.
On her way downstairs, she stood at the mirror and looked at herself. She couldn’t help a warm feeling spreading through her veins, somehow, even in the midst of all that fear, all that grief. Because Harry was there, and she wasn’t alone.
Sitting at the breakfast table, Harry and Sarah were sipping their cappuccinos in silence. Suddenly the phone rang. They both jumped, as if they’d received an electric shock.
“It’s just the phone,” laughed Harry. “Talk about nerves!”
No wonder.
Sarah went to answer it, and in a few minutes, she was back.
“It was Aunt Juliet. They wanted me to spend the day with them. I managed to convince her I’m too busy.”
“You are. Today we begin.”
Sarah felt a knot of fear in her stomach. What do we begin?
“What’s the first name on the list?” Harry’s clear eyes were shining. Sarah could see how excited he was. He loves hunting, just like my parents did.
The realization came at once: I’m not like them. I hate all this. It’s my duty, but I’d never choose it.
“Michael Sheridan,” Sarah read. “Harry …”
“Great. Let’s go get the daggers.”
“How do you know where to find him?”
Harry lifted his iPhone. “I’ve got … people. Friends who find out things for me.”
“Right.” Dodgy. “Harry, I can’t …”
“You can’t what? You don’t want to just sit here waiting for the next attack, do you?”
“No. But I can’t hunt human beings.”
“We won’t be hunting them, the people on the list. We’re after the Surari they called to their service. It took the Valaya years to gain enough knowledge to summon them. They’d need years to summon others. In the meantime, they’ll be helpless, or as good as.”
Sarah closed her eyes. So many things to learn, so much knowledge to make hers. A whole new world, a new life. A terrifying one, worse than the one she had before. And that one was bad enough.
How much I hate all this, she thought, and immediately she felt breathless, anxiety weighing on her lungs and stopping them from filling up with air.
“Harry, if we go around looking for demons in the middle of the day, someone will see us and there’ll be panic!”
“Let’s say that today we go for a lookaround. Just to see how the land lies. Let’s go get the daggers. By the way, do you mind if I use your father’s? I have a dagger of my own, but his feels great in the hand. So light. A real treat.”
“The sgian-dubh? Of course. You can have it. But if it’s just a lookaround, why the daggers?”
“You can’t go wrong with a dagger. I learnt that in Japan … The hard way.” Harry raised his left arm. There was a deep, white scar from his elbow to his wrist. He smiled, that arrogant smile again. With a dimple on his left cheek, she noticed. “Also, there’s quite a few things I can do with a blade.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
“You take the dagger, then. I’ve got the blackwater,” said Sarah stubbornly.
“Take the dagger. Trust me.”
“I don’t.” Her expression was so mutinous, so childish, that he couldn’t help smiling. “OK then. Let’s say you do this as a favour. For your long-lost cousin.”
Sarah gave in. She rolled her eyes, and walked towards the spiral staircase to get to the basement.
“Your dagger is not in the basement. It’s under your pillow.”
“Under my pillow? How did it get there?”
Harry smiled, and didn’t answer. Sarah felt her stomach tighten. He’d done it again. He sent me to sleep. How creepy is this? He can put me to sleep, and I won’t remember a thing.
She walked upstairs to her room, and took out the dagger from under her pillow. Upsetting her perfect bed made her skin crawl. She made her bed again, carefully. Then she tore the duvet away and made it once more, from scratch. She took a deep breath. Better.
She went back downstairs, holding the dagger with two fingers, as if it was something vaguely revolting.
“Are you wearing socks?” asked Harry.
“What?”
Harry lifted up his jeans around his right ankle, to reveal the sgian-dubh tied to it with a leather strap.
Oh. “No.”
“Right then. Turn around.”
“Why?”
“Just turn around. And lift up your top.”
“What?”
“I want to show you where to carry a dagger. Mary Anne showed me.”
Mary Anne? Right.
Sarah blushed deeply, but she obeyed. She turned around, and lifted her top. Harry slipped the dagger into her bra, right over her spine, touching her skin with warm, light fingers. Sarah pulled down her top quickly, and stepped away.
“Try and move.”
“I can’t feel anything.”
“Exactly. Now try and get the sgian-dubh.”
Sarah raised her arm, lifted it behind her back, and her hand curled around the dagger. She took it out smoothly.
“Perfect.”
“I don’t like being armed.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
No. I wasn’t given a choice when I was born a Midnight.
7
A Place Between
the Water and the Sky
Tomorrow it will be time
To unravel all your secrets
Grand Isle, Louisiana
The road was a white ribbon among the mangroves, between patches of wetland and ponds of still water. The air was heavy and full of moisture, without a hint of a breeze. Just on the horizon, shimmering at the edge of their vision, was the sea.
“So … do you play the Cajun accordion?” Niall’s face was untroubled, open. The face of someone who didn’t think too hard about things.
Or didn’t think at all, Mike had suspected a few times since they’d met, a few days before.
“Do I what?”
“Play the Cajun accordion. The official Louisiana instrument.”
“Of course. And I eat jambalaya while performing voodoo rituals.”
“Do you?” Niall’s eyes were huge with enthusiasm.
“No.”
“Oh. Oh well.” A pause. Then, “Jesus, is that an alligator?”
“It’s a fallen tree, Niall.” Mike sighed. This Irish boy was testing his patience beyond belief.
“Was it? Anyway, apparently the music is great in these parts. Can we look for some?”
“This is not a holiday.”
“I know, but if we can kill two birds with one stone …”
“Will you take this seriously?” Mike was exasperated. Since he’d picked Niall up in that castaway village he came from, Skerry or whatever the name was, he had behaved as if he was going on some fun trip. Had it not been for Niall’s mother looking straight into his eyes and saying, with that sing-song accent of theirs – look after him, please … Had it not been for what Mary Flynn had said, Mike would have thought that the Flynn family were completely unconcerned. Or unaware. But no, they knew and they were afraid.
It was just Niall, being … being Niall.
“I am taking it seriously. Look. I’ve got a Swiss knife.”
“You what?”
“A Swiss knife. In my pocket.”
“Great. Just great. That will save our lives for sure.” Mike switched the radio on and set the volume as high as he could.
Niall Flynn, Secret heir of the Flynn family. And certifiably mad. I’m supposed to keep him alive. Good luck to me. And as if the Enemy wasn’t enough, I also have the Sabha to watch out for.
His phone made a buzzing sound.
“It’s a message. Can you get it?”
“Sure thing. It’s from Sean. He asks if we’re nearly there.” Y–E–S, he typed. “There. Sent. I’m amazed there’s reception down here.”
“Not for most people, there isn’t. For us, yes.”
“It really is in the middle of nowhere.”
“Says the man from Donegal.”
Niall laughed. “Good point, I suppose.”
Mike had chosen their hiding place. Somewhere that would keep Niall safe, and from where they could help Sean with his mission. Sean Hannay was the only other Gamekeeper who knew where they were headed: Mike’s home of Grand Isle, Louisiana – a part of it that was well, well away from the beaten track. Somewhere on a beach, surrounded by marshlands where people rarely ventured.
Grand Isle. The most beautiful place on earth, thought Mike. At least I get to see home before they kill me.
The shack was just that. A shack.
“Aw, this is lovely,” commented Niall, not a trace of irony in his voice.
You’ve got to give him that: he’s easy to please, thought Mike, looking around the dusty, damp, spider-infested little cabin that they were to call home for … well, who knew how long?
They put themselves to work, and in a few hours the cabin was clean, the generator was going, buzzing away, and the computers were up.
“There. To you the privilege to speak to Sean for the first time, from our Grand Isle hideaway.” Mike handed Niall the iPhone, on speaker. After just one beep, Sean’s voice filled the room.
“Mike?”
“It’s Niall.”
“All OK? Are you clear?”
“I think so. And what a beautiful place. The sea is just incredible, and the beach … “
“Er … yes. OK. Is Mike there?”
“I’m here, Sean.”
“Is the boy for real?”
“Oh yes he is. A ray of sunshine for us all.” Mike rolled his eyes. Niall laughed, and his eyes shone in a mischievous way that made Mike smile. A genuine smile.
“I need your help with something, Mike.”
“Fire away.”
Mike
That’s what I’m supposed to do. Help Sean from somewhere safe. Send him the info he needs.
Looking after a Secret heir, that wasn’t in the plan. I knew nothing of all this sorry mess until I nearly got eaten by that … thing, whatever it was. That thing that came out of my filing cabinet. Seriously: my filing cabinet.
Hey, becoming a Gamekeeper wasn’t the plan in the first place! I was just a photographer, and in my spare time, a hacker. That’s all. Until my filing cabinet became some sort of a nest to a Feral – that’s what they call them. And because of that, I met Harry Midnight.
I wonder how many people in the world end up saying that: I was just a … whatever – accountant, mailman, housewife or something – until I met Harry Midnight. He’s changed quite a few people’s lives. Including mine. The Gamekeeper training was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it, and I became one of their best. I have no Secret talents, no magical powers; but man, they need me. Especially now that the Sabha is dirty as hell, and there’s only us left to fight, the small group Harry knew to be loyal. As far as we know. It’s not looking good, but, what can I say, I’ve always loved a challenge.
“Thank you, Mike.”
“And how’s the heron?” Heron, the code name for Sarah. So that if they were intercepted, no connection would be made between them and the Midnights.
“The heron’s fine. Frightened. But in one piece.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
“Hey Sean, what’s the craic out there in Scotland? Did you get to anything?” Niall intervened.
“Anything … like what?”
“Any gigs?”
“Aaaand, we’re out. Goodnight, Sean.” Mike brought his hands to his temples, massaging them in little circular movements.
“‘Night. And Niall …
“Yes?”
“Get a grip.”
“Will do,” Niall replied cheerfully, without resentment. He was impossible to upset.
“Are you all like this where you come from?” Mike was busying himself with the provisions: tinned food, dry biscuits and, of course, a few bottles of Bourbon to steady frayed nerves.
“Nah. Just me. Now why don’t you pour us something while I go get dinner?”
“There’s no shops for miles around. Tonight it’s beans and canned peaches.” Mike waved a can in the air.
“No need for shops. See you later.”
“Give me a minute, I’ll come with you.”
“I don’t think you can. Back in an hour.” Niall grabbed a couple of plastic bags they had used to pack Mike’s equipment, and he was out of the door.
“Better not leave you alone … “
“I’ll be fine!” he called, disappearing in the humid, mosquito-infested Louisiana night.
After an hour, as promised, Niall was back. The bags were full of freshly caught fish, alive and still writhing.
Mike was speechless.
“How did you do that?”
Niall shrugged. “Bonfire on the beach?”
“With a big neon sign saying ‘Secret heir here, please attack’?”
“Aw, come on, nobody knows we’re here. You said it yourself. We’re clear. And we can’t cook all this on a camping stove. Come on.”
A driftwood fire was crackling green and blue, casting strange shadows on Niall’s face. Once again Mike wondered what made this boy so special for them to hunt him. To hunt them all, so savagely.
“So, what’s your talent?”
“I play everything I can get my hands on. Fiddle, uilleann pipes, flute, you name it, I can play it.”
“Right. Great. That’s a talent indeed. But I meant, what’s your Secret talent? You know, those crazy things that you heirs can do.”
“Oh, yes. I sing.”
OK.
“I got that. You play everything, and you sing. A one-man band. But what can you do, you know … as a family. As a Secret Family.”
“Told you, we sing. We can sing to hypnotize, to stun, to kill. To heal as well.”
“That’s amazing.” Mike was genuinely impressed.
“I suppose so. Oh, and I’m the Dreamer of my family. I get dreams about demons, then we go and sing them down.”
Niall’s face seemed suddenly different. Older.
“Oh.” He’s a Dreamer. I don’t envy you, man.
They didn’t speak for a while. They watched the fire flickering and crackling and hissing. The noise of the bonfire and the lapping of the waves were the only sounds.
Niall broke the silence. “Anyway, you don’t play the Cajun accordion, then? ‘Cause you never really answered … Hey, where are you going?”
“To pour myself another Bourbon. I’ve earned it.”
8
Spirits of the Air
I see the shadows behind the smiles
Longer than my days last my nights
They took James’s Land Rover. Harry drove like a madman. Sarah was clinging to her seat, praying to survive the ride.
“Where did you learn to drive?” she asked, her teeth clenched. She was even paler than usual.
Harry smiled and said nothing.
“If we get there alive, I’ll drive us back.”
“You don’t have a driving licence.”
“It’d still be safer.”
Half an hour later they had crossed the city. Harry stopped in front of a dark, imposing Victorian building. A green plaque announced that the building hosted the Crocketford Community Library.
“Come on.”
“Wait, Harry …”
“Wait for what?”
Sarah opened her mouth to reply. Nothing came out. Yes, wait for what?
“OK, then. Let’s go,” she said grudgingly. She brought her hands to her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on.
They walked into the neon-lit entrance. It looked more like a church than a library, with vaulted ceilings and grey stone walls. There was a musty smell all around, and a subtle dampness pervaded the air, like in most ancient places. The cold neon light was completely unsuited to the place, and gave it a sterile look, like a surgical theatre.
Sarah lifted her eyes to the dark, impossibly high ceiling, and her head spun.
Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1) Page 7
