Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1)

by Daniela Sacerdoti

  30

  King of Shadows

  Lead me into the light

  Let everyone know about our love

  Grand Isle, Louisiana

  The sound of the waves lapping on the shore was like oxygen to Niall, like the most familiar, oldest sound in his memory, second only to the beating of his mother’s heart. He needed to be near the water, he needed time to just sit and think about all that was happening. To try and make sense of the events that had taken him there, to a beach on the other side of the world, beside a warm sea in a warm night, far away from the freezing waters and cold wind of the Atlantic, and all he that knew.

  Mike had been incredible. To be a man who was there by choice and not by destiny, he was selfless and brave and endlessly resourceful. So loyal to Sean and to all they were fighting for. To think of what could happen soon to all of them – the Secret Families, the Gamekeepers, and then to all humanity, old and young, all over the world – if the Time of Demons came again.

  Niall’s grandfather used to tell him stories about the Time of Demons. He was the headmaster of the local school, a little white-washed cottage on the outskirts of Skerry, his home village. He was also a storyteller, a folklorist, and a musician, of course. He had the power of Song, a voice so potent that he could call storms, light a fire, change the colour of the leaves.

  Patrick Flynn’s stories were frightening. Members of the Flynn family had been telling them for generations, handing them from father to son and from mother to daughter – stories of a time when Donegal, and Ireland, and the world didn’t belong to humans but to the Surari. Small tribes of human beings living a nomadic life full of danger and uncertainty, trying to survive the threat of the demons roaming the earth, owning the land. And then something happened. Special children were born to the human tribes – the ancestors of the Secret Families. They had powers that could tame the Surari, destroy them, or banish them to places that run parallel to this world, sealed away in space and time. Slowly the Surari grew weaker, and the humans grew stronger – until the earth belonged to humanity. The Time of Demons was over, and the Time of Humans began. The Secret Families watched the territory – they watched the openings between this world and theirs, destroying anything that managed to seep through.

  When the destruction started, the Flynn family began falling ill. They grew weak, exhausted, unable to eat – Niall, his parents and his two little sisters, too young to even have Dreams yet. Some mysterious sickness was coming up from the land, slowly killing them. The people in Skerry and all around were suffering too – women were losing babies all around, children grew ill with blood diseases, and there was talk of the land being somehow poisoned, or the sea.

  Something there was leaking death.

  The Flynns sent their son away with Mike. They stayed, withering slowly, trying all they could to stop the sickness. Niall knew that his parents had chosen to die in the poisoned place – and he respected their choice. He would have gladly done the same. But he knew he had to go away, and survive and fight. And he’d do his duty.

  He thought of Donegal, of how the land rolled sweetly, of how quickly the clouds would sweep the sky, of how perfectly silent and still the hills could be, so silent that you could hear the earth breathing.

  This beautiful land he now found himself in, this place between the water and the sky, was full of soul – Louisiana, somewhere he never even thought he’d see. It was seeping into his blood, a watery, green, secret place where people were as proud of their traditions as his own people. And the music was amazing.

  Still, it wasn’t home.

  “Niall!”

  Mike interrupted his thoughts. He was calling him from the shack, waving broadly with his arms. Something had happened. Probably Sean-related.

  Niall was dying to meet Sean Hannay, and the heron, the mysterious Sarah Midnight.

  “Sean.” Mike gestured at the phone sitting on the table, beside the computers.

  Niall nodded. “How can I help?”

  “Ever heard of the King of Shadows?”

  The floor rose up to meet Niall, and the room danced around him as a buzzing sound filled his ears. He blinked over and over again.

  Mike’s voice came from afar.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Yes. Yes. I’m fine. Sean, I’ve heard of the King of Shadows before, yes. I’ve heard of him in … stories.”

  “Stories?”

  “Stories that have been in my family for generations. As long as human memory goes.”

  “So who is this King of Shadows?”

  “Try and avoid saying his name, Sean.”

  “Come on, Niall!” Mike laughed. Then he saw Niall’s grey face, and he stopped laughing.

  “What do you know about him?”

  “He’s a very, very powerful demon. The strongest of them all. He was driven back when the Time of Demons came to an end, but he was never truly defeated, just contained. Some say he rules the Underworld. Sometimes he’s called Báis.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It’s Irish. It means Death.”

  A pause.

  “Where did you come across him?” asked Mike, grabbing the bottle of Bourbon. Niall saw that his hands were shaking.

  “The heron had a vision.”

  “Sean. I need to come and see you and the heron. Now.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “If that’s what’s after you, you need all the help you can get.”

  “We need you alive, Niall. What else do you know?”

  “Not much more. The stories say he brings death with a look of his eyes. That he hasn’t seen the light for thousands of years. That’s all I know.”

  “I see.”

  “This is really bad, Sean,” Mike said.

  “I know. Not good at all.”

  “The plan?”

  “Keep going, I suppose.”

  “I’ll try and get as much info as I can. I’ll send it to you ASAP.”

  “Thank you, Mike.”

  “Not at all, my friend.”

  They heard a beep, and then silence.

  “Not good at all,” repeated Niall, and his words sounded like a song of mourning.

  31

  The Man Who Wasn’t There

  Hold me as if

  I were about to disappear

  “Them again?”

  “Yes.” Harry didn’t look up from his iPhone.

  “Who are they?” Sarah wasn’t letting go.

  “I told you, they don’t want people to know.”

  “I’m not people. I’m family. And this makes me nervous.”

  “Don’t be nervous. They’re on our side.”

  Sarah sighed.

  “I’ve got homework to do.”

  “Right, I’ll leave you be.” Harry got up from the sofa.

  “No, no. Stay. I mean, stay if you want to,” she amended. “I don’t mind.”

  Harry stifled a smile.

  “OK.”

  “I’ll go get my books.”

  Sarah ran upstairs, grabbed her books, notebooks and pencil case and was down in a minute. She was about to step into the living room when something made her stop.

  Harry was standing in front of the fireplace, still as the night, a strange expression on his face.

  “Don’t come in, Sarah.” His voice was grey.

  “Harry. What’s wrong?” she whispered, her blood turning cold.

  “Don’t come in. Stay out. I think it’s too late for me.”

  Sarah’s head started spinning.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Look at my feet.”

  Sarah looked down. The wooden floor was strewn with the lilac light of early evening, mixing with the light of the lamp on the coffee table and of the uplighter in the corner. All her radars started sending alarm signals to her brain, but she couldn’t figure out why. There was something wrong with what she was seeing. Something was there that shouldn’t have been there. Sar
ah swallowed. What is it? What is it that doesn’t look right?

  She looked again. The shadows.

  The shadows were all wrong.

  Harry had two shadows. And one of them was moving of its own accord.

  All of a sudden, she knew. When they thought they had dissolved the demon-shadow, she had felt that something wasn’t right. She’d thought the puddle of blackwater had disappeared too quickly, but she hadn’t done anything about it. She hadn’t even told Harry. She had buried her head in the sand, pushed the thought to the back of her mind. How wrong she’d been. What a stupid, stupid thing to do.

  “Run,” Harry begged her.

  “I can’t leave you.”

  “Whose life is more important, Sarah? Mine or yours? You need to save yourself. Please, Sarah, go.”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “If you die there’s nobody left. You’re the one with the powers. Please go. Please go.” Sarah had never seen him so frightened.

  The demon-shadow looked around, as if to decide who to hit first. Then it turned towards Sarah. It had chosen. Harry understood at once.

  “Sarah. Please, Sarah. Run.” He pleaded again, taking out his sgian-dubh, slowly, an inch at a time.

  “I can’t leave you here. I can’t.” Sarah’s hands were shaking so hard that all her books fell to the floor.

  The shadow took a step towards her.

  “Sarah!” shouted Harry. “Sarah, go!”

  Sarah took a step back.

  “Come here. Come here. Come with me,” she whispered to the demon. It took another step forward, and Sarah took one backwards.

  “Come with me.”

  “What are you doing?” Harry shouted in frustration.

  “Getting it away from you.” Sarah’s voice was cold, even, but there was an edge of terror to it.

  Run, please run. One touch is all it takes, and you’ll be a shadow for all eternity …

  Sarah took another step back. She didn’t dare to turn away from the demon. Her hands were cold. She flexed them. She curled them into a fist, then unfolded them again. Cold. Still cold.

  Harry followed them out of the living room and into the hall. The shadow took another step in her direction, a quicker one, and Sarah gasped. She jerked back, and tripped over one of her books, falling backwards and landing heavily on the first step of the stairs.

  “Here! I’m here! Take me!” Harry shouted again.

  But the shadow ignored him. Another step, and another, its hands out to get Sarah. She was desperately trying to get back on her feet, but kept slipping on the paper strewn on the landing.

  Harry cried out once more, furious, desperate.

  The demon reached out, its black hands as hollow, as empty as darkness itself.

  Her hands were still cold – she lifted them in front of her face, in absolute, all-consuming terror.

  The blackwater was failing her.

  The demon crouched in front of Sarah. They mirrored each other, as if it had been Sarah’s real shadow. Two beings, one with a body, one without, locked in an endless moment.

  All of a sudden, the shadow turned around in a jerky, sudden movement, as if it had felt something. Sarah looked up, and there was Harry, sweat pouring down his face, his hands weaving the invisible runes in the air, the blade and Harry’s fingers moving so quick it was impossible to follow. He was panting with the effort.

  The shadow shuddered and arched its back. Harry yelled in anger and pain. Sarah saw that the hand holding the blade was bright red, dripping with blood.

  The demon curled onto itself, and then shook its head back and forth. Harry fell on his knees, still tracing the runes, his shoulders shaking with the effort. The shadow started blurring, slowly. The mysterious force that held it together was faltering, and the particles that made up its body were beginning to drift away from their orbits, loose and lost. From black, it started turning into grey.

  Harry moaned. There was a red stain on the carpet where his hand was dripping blood. One last effort. One last effort, he kept telling himself, as his strength faded, his hands trembled and the symbols became less and less defined.

  But he was succeeding. The demon was now a grey, shapeless cloud. Just as Harry couldn’t take any more, the shadow lingered for a long, painful moment, and then it was gone.

  Harry let the sgian-dubh fall on the floor and leaned on his arms, on all fours, panting. His heart was beating so hard he thought Sarah could hear it.

  He faltered towards Sarah, and he let himself fall beside her. He held her tight, too tight – as if the abyss were still there, and he had to stop her from falling.

  “You’re hurting me,” she murmured.

  He didn’t let go.

  32

  The Heron

  I can’t speak to you

  Not even in my dreams

  Stay with me – I call

  To nobody

  Grand Isle, Louisiana

  “Sean?”

  “Niall.” Sean’s voice filled the little shack. The door was open, letting in the night and the sound of the waves.

  “I had a dream.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Now, it could be about something happening back home in Donegal. I mean, this is the way they’re supposed to be. But I didn’t recognize the place … it was on a football pitch. And the heron was in it.”

  “The heron?”

  “Yes. And it was bad. She wasn’t … herself. She looked like herself, but she wasn’t. There was a demon inside her.”

  “A football pitch, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Niall.”

  “Sean. I’m tired of hiding. We’ve got to do something. We can’t hide forever.”

  “I know. I know.” His voice sounded exhausted.

  “Sean?” Mike called.

  “Yes.”

  “Ignore him. He’s just fed up with eating shellfish every night. We’ll stay here as long as it takes.”

  “No, he’s right, Mike. We can’t hide forever. They’ll find us anyway, wherever we are.”

  “Sooner or later they’ll make a mistake. We’ll figure out who—”

  “Stop. Don’t say anything,” Niall intervened.

  “No. No, you’re right.”

  “I’m going to go now. Take care. I mean it.”

  “And you, Sean.”

  They both looked at the computer, bright in the semi-darkness of the shack. On the screen, the website of Trinity Academy – a photo of the school orchestra, three rows of boys and girls in their uniform, smiling at the camera. They had zoomed in on a girl sitting at her cello, long black hair cascading over her shoulders, a shy, melancholic look in her eyes.

  The heron.

  33

  The White Mountains

  The day he went

  Was the day I could not go back.

  I thought it’d last forever

  Castelmonte

  Elodie

  Still no powers. Like I’m not myself any more. No visions, no dreams, and nothing else. Water is just water, glass is just glass, and no visions come to me when I sleep. I don’t get much sleep these days, anyway.

  I mainly sit at the window and look at the mountains. At the beginning they felt like a cage, this huge barrier between me and the war I’m not allowed to fight. But I grew to love them, a constant, silent, protecting presence.

  The other day we drove to Val d’Aosta. The Frisons were visiting some friends and they took me with them. We went to a little stony village that seemed to have grown out of the valley, between two enormous walls of rock at either side of it. A village that looks like a nativity scene, with a Roman bridge that crosses a white, ice-cold, glacier-born stream.

  “At night you see some lights up there,” Marina said, pointing up to the top of the mountain, somewhere impossibly high. “You might think they’re stars, because you can’t see the mountains, it all looks dark like the night sky. But they’re houses. Can you imagine?
Living up there?”

  I pictured the lights hanging from the mountains like stars from the sky. I pictured living there, in a wooden house that gets cut off by the snow in the winter. Harry and me. And our children.

  The thought cut me up like a blade right under my ribs, and I looked away. Marina read my mood. “Come on, let’s go buy some treats.”

  The local bakery was a treasure trove, and we came out with our hands full of some flat, crumbly biscuits that they call tegole, ‘slates’, and some others shaped like little knots, sugary and buttery. Torcetti. The unfamiliar words rolled on my tongue and tasted as good as the biscuits, as I tried again and again to pronounce them. Marina smiled. She loves it when I try to speak her language.

  We sat on the grass at the side of the stream to eat our goodies. The water ran so fast, from the glaciers to the valleys, on a bed of grey pebbles.

  Marina was sitting beside me, her eyes closed against the autumn sun. A thin, chilly mountain breeze ruffled her hair. Aiko was throwing stones in the water, curling her chubby little fingers around the pebbles and giving little squirms of delight as they made an arc across the air, and a little splash in the water.

  The scent of pines was sweet all around us, and the rock walls shone in the sun. They were warm to the touch, and they seemed to vibrate and hum very, very quietly – as if they were alive. It felt like they were giving out energy – like if I sat on them, I’d sort of plug myself in. Their strength seeped into me, thousands and thousands of years of being still under the sky, of watching the world changing, and never changing themselves.

  These stones had seen the Time of Demons.

  These stones might witness it coming again.

  My heart grew cold at the sudden fear, and the pleasure of the moment was lost for me. I hugged my knees and rested my chin on them, deep in dark thoughts.

  “Elodie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t worry.” Marina put her hand across my shoulders, and her kindness filled my chest with unshed tears.

  34

  Losing You