Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1)

by Daniela Sacerdoti

  “No need for that. I’m here to help Sarah.”

  Harry nodded. As much as he hated himself for it, he had no choice but to put the dagger down, slowly, reluctantly. There was no time to lose. Sarah’s sleep was slowly turning into unconsciousness – the next step would be death. Her breathing was shallow, barely-there sighs that couldn’t keep her alive for long.

  “Sarah …”

  At the sound of Leaf‘s voice, she opened her eyes a little.

  “Leaf,” she whispered.

  Harry felt a bitter taste in his mouth, like bile rising. He had to accept Leaf‘s help. He looked at the boy with hostility, and for a second it seemed to Harry that his eyes were burning, like those coals that look cold, but if you turn them they glow red under the ash. A dark, deep glow. It was just a moment, then Leaf‘s eyes turned black again.

  Is he human?

  Leaf kneeled beside Sarah, sank his hands into the mist, and started weaving it around his fingers, like a cobweb, or spun silk. As soon as it touched Leaf‘s hands the mist dissolved in a million little droplets that evaporated quickly.

  Fire against water, thought Harry. A strange thought took shape in his head, passing quickly and fading away, like a falling star: he is fire.

  Leaf worked for a few minutes in complete silence, Sarah’s breathing becoming slowly deeper and more regular as he dissolved the mist, until she regained consciousness. She sat up, rubbing her face. She was deadly pale, and her lips were blue. Harry went to hold her, and he was startled at how cold she felt.

  “Sarah, let me warm you,” He started rubbing her arms and holding her close, but Sarah’s eyes never left Leaf‘s face.

  Now it’s me who’s burning, Harry thought. He wanted to throw the black-eyed boy over the wall; he wanted to drag Sarah in the house and lock the door.

  She’s mine.

  “Harry! Leaf is hurt,” whispered Sarah, her face full of worry. She freed herself from Harry’s arms and went to the black-eyed boy. Leaf seemed to have paled more and more as he was weaving the mist, and his skin, pale already, had taken on a blue tinge. He tried to speak, but all of a sudden, he fell on his knees. He curled up on the ground, his eyes closed, trembling. Sarah put her hands on him – he was freezing cold.

  “We need to warm him up!”

  Harry didn’t move.

  “Leaf …” She put her arm around his shoulder. “Harry, please, a blanket.”

  Still, Harry didn’t move.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” Leaf whispered, still curled up. “Don’t worry. I’ll be OK in a minute. It needs to work its way out of me …”

  Sarah watched him anxiously for a couple of minutes, until he finally sat up, slowly. He wasn’t shaking any more. The mist had gone through his system, and left him. Both Sarah and Harry were watching him intensely: Sarah with apprehension; Harry pondering how desperately he wanted that strange boy to disappear.

  Suddenly, Harry spotted something out of the corner of his eye, something white and stringy, like a wavy ribbon of steam taking shape in the air.

  “Sarah. It’s back.”

  The thread of mist had already started circling slowly around the three of them, and the air was turning colder, colder. Sarah froze. She could already feel her breath becoming shallower.

  “Don’t move.” Leaf stood up, raised a hand and traced a run in the air while making a deep, weird howling sound, like an animal call.

  And there she was, strong, proud, with eyes of pure amber and whiskers vibrating with rage. It was a wildcat – or looked like one. Sparks were springing from her paws and from her whiskers, as she started circling slowly, in the opposite direction from the mist.

  “A spirit of fire!” whispered Harry.

  The wildcat jumped into the air, and trapped a thread of mist into her claws. She jumped again and again, shredding the mist with her paws, as sparks flew all around her. She jumped so close to Sarah and Harry that they thought she’d cut them with her claws – but she always avoided them at the last second.

  Thread after thread, the mist was gone. The wildcat stood with her claws sunk into the earth, rolled her head back and gave a deep, growly miaow. She shuddered, and a little blue lightning came from the sky, through her fur and down to her claws. Her fur stood up, electrified. Then she seemed to relax. She stretched slowly, with a deep, languid yawn.

  The wildcat looked at them one last time – her amber eyes were the same colour as Shadow’s, but a bit darker – and jumped away, disappearing among the oak trees, followed by the ravens flying away into the darkening sky.

  Sarah was speechless. It was one of the most amazing things she’d ever seen in her life. A spirit of fire.

  “That was incredible!” she said, and her eyes were shining.

  “The demon won’t be back again,” whispered Leaf. “I have to go.”

  Sarah felt a stabbing through the heart. “Don’t go. Stay,” she pleaded, and it was such a raw, vulnerable thing to say that Harry felt sick to his stomach.

  “I’m sorry, I have to.” Leaf stood close to Sarah, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck. “Think of me,” he whispered in her ear, making her knees go soft. Her mind emptied, as it always seemed to do when Leaf was around.

  Sarah watched him walk away, a tide of loneliness filling her, rising slowly with every step he took. He jumped over the wall and disappeared – and Sarah’s heart overflowed with invisible tears. He never stops. He never gives me time to speak to him. She felt her eyes welling up, and hated herself for it.

  “What did he say to you?” asked Harry.

  “Nothing. Just to take care.”

  For a second Harry imagined how it would be to put his hands around Leaf ‘s neck and feel it snap.

  “Four to go,” he whispered darkly, and walked away without looking back, wishing that Leaf had stayed where he belonged, in Sarah’s dreams.

  Sarah followed him into the house and went straight upstairs – she wanted to be alone. She wasn’t surprised when she found a golden leaf on her pillow, waiting for her.

  23

  Asleep

  To be innocent again

  To know right from wrong, the way I used to

  Before you came along

  Sarah was lying on her bed listening to her iPod, with the golden leaf resting on her chest. The door opened slightly. Her heart skipped a beat, and she jumped up in alarm, ripping the headphones out of her ears. She was still shaken. It was terrifying to be attacked in her own home, never to feel truly safe. How long was that fear going to last?

  Forever, said a voice inside her head.

  “Sarah?”

  Thank God, it was Harry. She hurried to open the door.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” She gestured to her iPod, and went to sit on the windowsill, hugging her knees. Harry sat on her bed.

  He looks so kind. He looks so … Harry. Sarah had to fight the impulse to walk up to him and hold him, and hide her face in his chest. She took a deep breath.

  “I wanted to speak to you about that boy, Leaf,” he began.

  I knew it.

  “Yes.” She could see he was upset, but she didn’t want to give anything away. She didn’t know what to say, anyway. It was all such a mystery. And her own feelings were the biggest mystery of all. The strange bond she felt with Leaf was inexplicable. Like a spell.

  “Is he human, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. He’s clearly not one of the Valaya. He saved my life. And yours.”

  I should have saved your life. “You must tell me if you see him again.”

  Sarah didn’t reply. She was suddenly angry, with Harry, with Leaf, with her enemies, with her parents, with the whole world. She didn’t even know why. Her sense of disappointment, of betrayal, was all-consuming, like a grey hole in the middle of her life.

  “Sarah?”

  “I’ll tell you.” I won’t. I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.

  Harry sighed. She won’t. She’
s used to keeping secrets; she’ll keep this one and she’ll keep it well.

  They were silent for a minute, a black cloud on Harry’s forehead, his eyes lowered to the floor, in quiet anger. Sarah felt a rising tide of anxiety take hold of her, until she started shaking with fear. She curled up into herself, bringing her knees closer to her chest, her hair falling on her face to hide her, to protect her.

  Am I making a mistake? Is Leaf someone to fear? Why does he not stop and talk to me, at least tell me his real name?

  “I know who the demon-mist belonged to,” she murmured. “I heard it in my dreams. Sheila Douglas.”

  Harry’s face set into something hard, something that made him look like a stranger and made Sarah feel terribly, infinitely alone.

  “I’m going to find her. She’s got to pay,” he said coldly, calmly.

  Sarah brought a hand to her chest. She was breathless again.

  “Harry, there’s no point, her demon is dead. You said it yourself: once the demons are destroyed, the humans die. Don’t go.”

  “I don’t care. She’s got to pay,” he repeated.

  “Harry!”

  Harry took Sarah by the shoulders, and looked her in the eye. They faced each other for a long moment. How easy it would be to kiss her now, to claim her for my own, to squash whatever there is between her and Leaf …

  “I have to keep you alive, Sarah.”

  “Not by killing other people,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “No, that’s not the way …”

  But Harry had gone already. Sarah ran after him.

  “You won’t hurt her, will you?”

  Harry was speechless. He turned around abruptly, and Sarah nearly bumped into him.

  “Sarah. These are your parents’ killers. And they want to kill you too. Do you realize that?”

  “Of course I do! But I don’t want human blood on my hands! Or yours! That’s not the way it’s meant to be!”

  “I won’t kill her, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Teach her a lesson.”

  They had got to the garage. He started the car. His eyes were very cold, very clear, and Sarah felt afraid.

  “Jump in. I can’t leave you here alone,” he called, looking straight ahead.

  I can’t leave you alone either, thought Sarah, and slipped into the car.

  They were quiet throughout the journey, and Sarah looked out of the window. The city streets, the blond sandstone tenements under a heavy sky, the grey castle, rising from the volcano, watching over the city like a sentinel.

  Princes Street was busy and full of life: people walking fast in the chilly afternoon air, huddled up in coats and scarves, tourists taking pictures of the sights, and a very, very noisy piper playing over the traffic noise.

  “There we are. New You, third floor. Fancy a new nose?”

  Sarah sighed, and looked down. She felt nervous, on edge. She slipped a hand under her top, to check that the dagger was there, and flexed her hands nervously in an unconscious gesture, as if to get them ready.

  “I’ll go myself, if you want.” Harry’s eyes were hard.

  “No. I’m coming.” Better keep an eye on you.

  Harry’s pocket beeped, and he took out his iPhone.

  “Again? Who do you speak to all the time?”

  “My friends, you know that.”

  “Those friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are they?” Sarah was exasperated. Harry’s friends seemed to be in her life a lot, and to know so much, while she didn’t even know their names.

  “They’re good people to know. People I can trust.”

  “Have you known them long?”

  Harry didn’t reply. Sarah knew he wouldn’t say any more.

  “Right. Let’s go. Oh, Sarah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you taken your vitamins? The ones Juliet brought?”

  Sarah was flabbergasted. She was taken by surprise, and she couldn’t help laughing.

  “What?”

  “You were pretty ill yesterday, and with all that’s happening …”

  “Yes, Mum. I took them this morning.”

  “Ha ha.”

  She was touched. The way Harry could be focused, and cold, and ruthless one second, and then warm and caring the next – it made her heart beat faster; it made her want to solve his mystery, to own the whole of him, not just some parts, the ones he allowed her to know.

  “You’re still a bit pale.”

  “I’m always pale. It’s the famous Midnight ghostly complexion. You don’t have it, though,” she noticed, looking at his golden skin.

  “That’s the southern hemisphere for you.”

  They walked in. Everything looked polished, luxurious. A place for people who wanted to buy new bodies.

  “How can I help?” asked the receptionist.

  “My wife and I …”

  Wife?

  “… are looking for a consultation. We’d like some advice on … procedures.”

  “Sure. Your names?”

  “Harry and Sarah Midnight. We’d like to see Ms Douglas. She’s been recommended to us.”

  “Right, let me see … nothing until next week, I’m afraid.”

  “We’re family friends. I’m sure if you tell her we’re here she’ll see us straight away.”

  “Very well, I’ll try.” She picked up the phone.“Ms Douglas? There’s a Harry Midnight and a Sarah Midnight here to see you for a consultation. They said you might want to see them straight away. Sure. I’ll show them in.”

  Sarah’s chest was tight. Here we go …

  “Follow me, please,” the receptionist said suavely. She led them down a softly lit corridor, and knocked at a door.

  “Come on in!” A clipped, hard voice called. The receptionist disappeared, discreetly, leaving behind a cloud of perfume. Sheila Douglas was standing at her desk, her face a mask of hatred and disbelief.

  “How can you still be alive?” she whispered, a whisper that was like a scream.

  “Sorry to disappoint.” Harry shrugged.

  “Is my demon … is it …?”

  “Dead and buried, yes. Well, dissolved. Sorry.”

  “How did you …? How? It was strong … it killed so many … it can’t be. You’re bluffing.”

  “It was hard to kill, I’ll give you that. We needed some help. But here we are.”

  Sheila made a sound between a sob and a grunt, so incongruous with her polished persona that Sarah felt her chest tighten some more. What’s going to happen now? Is she going to try to kill us? Or is Harry going to try to kill her? She didn’t know what was worse.

  “You don’t think you’re safe now, do you? Because the Valaya is not finished. We won’t rest until you’re dead.”

  “We know. There’s a few more Surari, and that Mistress woman, isn’t there?” Harry’s tone was flippant, but Sarah knew him well enough to detect the steel in his voice.

  “How do you know of her?”

  “The sapphires told us,” answered Harry cryptically.

  “The Mistress awaits you, yes. Even if you managed to kill us all, there’d be her at the end of it. Oh …” Sheila brought a hand to her head, as if in sudden pain.

  Sarah gasped. Was that Harry? Doing that to her?

  “Who is she? Who is the Mistress?” pressed Harry.

  “I’ve said enough. Now go!” Sheila took her head in her hands, her face contorted in pain. Sarah tried to breathe in again, but found that she couldn’t. Her chest was so tight, she thought she’d suffocate.

  “Are you scared, Sarah? Because you should be!” Sheila looked up, her eyes shining with a frantic light. “You, little Sarah, you’ll be in a grave with your parents soon. What do you think you’re doing?” she screeched, looking somewhere over Sarah’s shoulder.

  Sarah followed her gaze and turned around. Harry had his dagger in his hand, an
d his eyes were icy. Sarah swallowed. He looked ready to kill; he looked like he wanted to kill.

  “Are you going to stab me?” Sheila laughed again, then she brought her hand to her forehead, in pain again.

  “Harry, no!” He can’t. That’s not the Midnight mission. We don’t kill human beings!

  Harry ignored Sarah. He raised the hand carrying the dagger and started tracing his runes with the tip of the sgian-dubh, cutting the air. Sheila had her eyes fixed on the blade, as if she’d been hypnotized. Sarah was expecting her to start shuddering, and was bracing herself for wounds to appear all over Sheila’s body like it had happened to the white Feral, but nothing happened.

  Nothing.

  With one last, sharp movement, Harry put down the sgiandubh and slipped it back in his sock. His cold, clear eyes betrayed no emotion.

  “What have you done to me?” screeched Sheila, jumping up. Her chair fell backwards.

  “Is everything OK, Ms Douglas?” The receptionist opened the door ever so slightly, enough to put her head in.

  “Yes, yes, of course. I just need to finish this consultation.” Sheila’s voice sounded hoarse. Frightened. The receptionist looked at them suspiciously, but closed the door, muttering an apology.

  “Do you want to know what I did, Ms Douglas?” said Harry, his tone even, his face hard as stone. “Let’s just say that whenever I choose, you’ll fall asleep. It might happen when you’re in the car … or you might be turning the gas on, or stepping down the stairs … Well, you get the drift.”

  Sheila looked at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t believe you.” Her expression and her voice said the opposite.

  Harry raised a hand, as if he was blessing her, and traced something in the air. Sheila fell on the floor, out cold. Sarah clasped her hands on her mouth.

  Harry raised his hand again, and traced the same symbol, in reverse. Sheila opened her eyes suddenly, gasping, struggling for breath.

  “You’ll pay for this,” she hissed, looking at him like you’d look at a raging dog: with anger, and fear.

  “If the Valaya bothers us again, I’ll make you fall asleep. If I don’t wake you up, it’ll take you hours to wake up by yourself. In the meanwhile, anything could happen. And I hope it does.”