Spirit

by Daniela Sacerdoti

  But she couldn’t help it. She jumped up, determined, and took wobbly steps on the pebbles towards the water. She wet her toes and forced herself inside the lake up to her knees. And then the wet feeling of weeds and slimy floating things around her legs began, and she grimaced, panic twisting her stomach, her resolution waning.

  And then, one day, when she was ten years old, Tancredi simply convinced her. She still had no idea how he’d done it.

  “Take my hand. I won’t let you go,” he’d said, and something in his voice made her really, really want to do as he said, made her believe that she could do as he said. She was frozen with fear and all her limbs were rigid. Her heart was beating in a crazy rhythm, but she still took his hand.

  They jumped together, and like he promised, he never let go.

  She emerged spluttering and scared, but triumphant.

  That was her brother, Tancredi Falco. Sweet and kind and brave.

  And now he was cold and alone, dead in another world, never to see his home again. A memory of him, sunshine and water and a strong, sweet hand holding hers, was all that Micol had left.

  19

  Tigers of the North

  If only I could go back

  To our home in the sun

  Weave again the threads

  Of life the way it was

  Sarah had heard that roar once before, in her garden in Edinburgh. That night her cat Shadow had been mangled, left as a little bundle of bones and bloodied black fur. That night her friend Bryony had also learned the truth of the mystery that surrounded Sarah, and both their lives had changed forever.

  Now, once again, Sarah took her place in the circle, facing out. In the middle of the circle this time was not Bryony but Micol, still unconscious. Another roar came from the trees. A trickle of sweat ran down Sarah’s back as the branches of the oaks above their heads danced and swayed, and they all instinctively jerked their heads towards the sound.

  But the first demon-tiger came from the opposite direction, making its way from behind a fern bush, slowly, leisurely, like it could take its time to kill. They gazed on the monstrous creature. Sarah remembered it well – something between a tiger and a hyena, muscles rippling under its fur, a mouth full of row after row of pointed teeth. This one was white, and two enormous fangs sat at either side of its mouth. It reminded Sarah of a sabre-toothed tiger. Another growl came from the back of its throat, its eyes narrowing into two black slits. Its instinct told it to kill and devour.

  “Don’t break the circle! There might be more around us!” whispered Sarah. Beside her, Sean was already tracing the runes, little red sparks dancing around his sgian-dubh.

  Sarah, Sean and Niall faced the demon, while Elodie, Nicholas and Alvise had their backs to it. It took them all their willpower not to turn around, but they listened to Sarah. The Surari advanced slowly, and its white fur started turning brown and green against the grass and leaves scattered on the ground.

  Camouflage, Sarah remembered.

  All of a sudden, without a sound, the demon-tiger pounced on Niall with bone-shattering force, digging its claws into his chest. As soon as it touched Niall’s jacket the beast turned blue. It raised its head, rows of yellow teeth glistening with drool, ready to bite Niall’s face, but Sean’s runes hit the Surari, scarlet ribbons taking shape in the air. The creature stood paralysed, its teeth touching Niall’s cheek, its saliva dribbling on its face.

  Sarah could see the terror in Niall’s eyes. Her hands were ready to strike with the Blackwater, but she didn’t dare move in case she disturbed Sean’s concentration – a second would have been enough for the beast to snap its jaws shut. Wounds appeared on the creature’s throat as the scarlet ribbons from Sean’s runes began cutting its skin, black blood pouring over Niall’s face and chest.

  “Sarah! Now!” Sean called, interrupting the flow of Ancient words. Sarah threw herself on the Surari and dug her hands into its fur with a scream of fury. The beast growled and fell on Niall, burying him under its huge weight, its eyes open and staring. It started shuddering, growling in pain, Blackwater sprouting from its mouth, its ears and its black nostrils, mixing with black blood.

  Sarah kept digging her hands into its fur without pity, growling like a Surari herself. She threw her weight sideways, carrying the beast with her so that Niall would be free. As it touched the ground, the Surari went from red to dark green again.

  Niall lifted himself up, one bleeding hand supporting him, the other feeling the ground, looking for his sgian-dubh. Then he fell again, agony contorting his face. He clasped both hands on his chest. The Surari was contorting itself in torment, black blood and the black liquid from its weeping skin mixing and soaking the ground. A seizure tightened its muscles in painful spasms until it dissolved with a final gush of Blackwater.

  Sarah took a series of breaths until she could finally speak. “Niall, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Nothing a little time won’t heal.”

  “Watch out!” shouted Sean. Sarah and Niall turned around to see Alvise, Elodie and Nicholas standing in front of another two demon-tigers, camouflaged black against the dark backdrop of the bushes. Nicholas’ hands sparked blue and a wall of flames rose between them and the demon-tigers. But the bolder of the two Surari jumped through, narrowly missing Elodie, thin smoke rising from its singed fur.

  “Niryani!” Elodie shouted, and threw herself at the creature’s side, stabbing it repeatedly, drawing black blood. The beast shuddered, throwing Elodie off and nearly crushing her with its weight, when suddenly it fell. An arrow jutted out of the Surari’s mouth.

  “Alvise,” a small voice said. Micol had come to. Alvise dragged her to her feet, trying to lead her away from the wall of fire, but the second demon-tiger pounced on him, its fur rippling green as it left the shadows, then blue while through the flames, then black again, and he had to let go of Micol. She stood in a daze, still too weak to call on her power.

  Elodie was on the demon at once, her poison seeping inside it. The beast tried to snarl, but its snarl turned into a yelp. As the poison worked its way into the Surari’s veins, the demon-tiger pounced once more, blindly trying to destroy everything in its path – and in front of him was Micol, still stunned, defenceless. It happened in a moment: the beast opened its jaws, its fangs ready to sink into Micol’s throat, when Sarah jumped on the creature, rolling over with it and away from Micol. She sank her hands into its fur. Already weakened by Elodie’s poison, with one last shiver and a deep, painful howl, the demon-tiger was still. For a second, Sarah’s eyes met Micol’s.

  Atonement, she thought. She’d saved Micol’s life.

  Sarah let herself fall back on her heels, but before she could take a breath the demon that had been hiding among the branches of the tree above them – the one who’d made the first warning noise – finally struck. It let itself fall on the ground and clawed the first thing it saw – Sarah. She fell on her back, the Surari upon her. She felt her breastbone breaking, and cried in pain. The Surari growled and poised itself to bite, its jaws pouring black saliva over her face . . .

  And then it stopped.

  It stepped off Sarah, surveying the scene with its malicious eyes, and growled once more. Nicholas followed the noise. He growled, too, like a demon would, and grabbed the Surari by its fur. He lifted it off him as if it’d been nothing more than a big cat, hurling it against the ground as hard as he could. They heard a crack, and the beast was still. Nicholas had no power over those Surari; his father was in control now. They would not kill him, not while Nicholas was doing his father’s bidding, but they would hurt him, and his father would take pleasure from it.

  Sarah clung to her bloodied chest, her heart and soul filled with terror. The demon-tiger had been about to bite her head off, but it had spared her. Just like the demon at the petrol station had done.

  Twice her life had been spared.

  And then she came to the natural conclusion, and the realisation chilled her to the bone: They need me. They have
a purpose for me.

  Her eyes met Sean’s across the mauled carcass of the demon-tiger, and they spoke without words. She dragged herself upright – and that’s when she saw Elodie’s gaze upon her, her expression unreadable. Quickly, Elodie looked away.

  “Thank you, Alvise,” the French girl said instead, looking to the newcomer. “The Surari would have killed me had it not been for you.”

  “Is that all you can do? Shoot arrows?” Nicholas said. “Like a Gamekeeper?”

  “He lost his powers,” Micol cried out. She was afraid of the son of the King of Shadows, but she was also furious. For her brothers, for her parents, for all those who’d died. For herself. “They killed his mother in front of him, and it was demons like you who did it! So don’t dare speak to him like that!”

  Alvise looked at Micol, surprised. Was she not supposed to hate him? “It’s okay, Micol. It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, but his eyes told a different story.

  “And in case you didn’t notice, he can hit a bull’s eye with an arrow from a mile away!” Micol’s Italian accent was now stronger than ever, and her cheeks burned red, her hands crackled.

  “Stop it! You’ll get yourself killed!” Alvise snapped.

  “Ignore him, Alvise. Is that what happened to you?” Sean intervened. “You lost your powers?”

  Alvise nodded. “Yes. Overnight.”

  “And what was it? Your power?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Sean stroked the back of his head, as if he were making casual conversation. “So people can lose their powers . . . and maybe gain them too?”

  Sarah tensed. She understood Sean’s deep, deep need to find out about his family of origin, but it disquieted her.

  Sarah’s heart filled with tenderness for him. In his mind, so much depended on him having inherited powers or not. To her, Sean was just Sean, with or without Secret blood, with or without powers.

  “I’m sorry . . . I have no idea. Why?” Alvise replied, tightening his quiver across his chest once more.

  Sean shook his head, disappointment filling him. “Never mind.”

  Sarah looked for Micol’s eyes. A part of her was hoping that saving the Italian girl’s life would have granted her forgiveness. Finally, Micol approached.

  “You saved me,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” Micol replied, looking down. Maybe, in time, she could forgive, but she would never forget.

  “Micol,” said Sean, “your brother asked me to look after you. I’ll do my best, I promise.”

  Micol bit her lip and didn’t reply.

  “Let’s go,” Seen commanded, lifting his backpack.

  Sarah didn’t usually like open displays of affection – her feelings ran too deep to be paraded for everyone to see – but she came to his side as they walked, and her fingers brushed his for a moment.

  “I love you,” she murmured, so low that nobody but Sean could hear her.

  20

  Another Nail in Our Cross

  I believe that’s the thing with guardian angels

  You can’t see them,

  But they’re there

  Sean

  Sarah’s eyes are haunted. I know she’s trying to block out what happened with Tancredi. I wish I could hold her in my arms forever, take all that’s cruel and painful out of her life. Shelter her from everything. Let her play her music and do what she loves to do in her home in Edinburgh, live a sweet, happy life without anger, without violence, without constant danger.

  But I can’t.

  It used to be me guiding her, keeping her strong, comforting her. Then it was Nicholas, during that terrible time when he exercised the mind-moulding on her and made her dependent on him. Now it’s her, it’s Sarah who looks after herself. She shoulders her dreams, and these horrific days, and the kills and the fear and the pain. She still looks for me, though, for my hand to hold. She still needs me, but she’s not helpless any more. She’s never been. It’s just that she didn’t know how strong she was.

  There was a time when she knew nothing of all this, when the truth about the Midnights and the Secret Families hit her like a kick in the face, so hard she fell; but a core of strength was always there.

  I remember the first time we met. I remember the first thing I thought when I saw her green eyes, the proud way she tilted her chin, like Harry Midnight. At that moment I thought she was strong, and I was right.

  We walk side by side, and I long to take her hand. We don’t need to talk. We know what the other person is thinking. We’re drained, and hungry, and the sun, though high in the sky, offers no heat at all and hardly any light. I want to stop and light a fire for Sarah, wrap her in a sleeping bag and give her hot tea and food. I want to take the pallor away from her face and put some colour back on her cheeks. I want us to be alone, and I want to kiss her and hold her until dawn. But none of this is possible.

  I catch a glimpse of Micol Falco. Her eyes are swollen from crying. I feel sorry for her, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt her if ever she shows a hint of wanting to harm Sarah. Her dying brother entrusted her to me, and I’ll do my best to do what he asked – he was, after all, a Secret Heir and I’m a Gamekeeper. I have a loyalty to all of the Families. But my first loyalty is and always will be to Sarah. There’s a lot more at stake than Micol’s life, as cruel as this sounds. There’s a lot more at stake than Tancredi’s dying wish, the man who stalked us throughout and tried to kill Sarah three times. The second time he tried, on Islay, it was a miracle she survived. He’d had it coming.

  I slow my steps to walk beside Nicholas. There’s something I need to know. He’s marching on, his arm through Elodie’s, his steps so much steadier than they used to be. He’s slowly getting used to his blindness, which is good for us. The steadier he is, the faster we walk.

  “Is there a cure?” I say without ceremony.

  He knows at once what I’m talking about. “There’s only one way to cure the Azasti, but there are reasons not to use this remedy. There are . . . side effects,” he grumbles, his unseeing eyes closed and his face tilted up, as if smelling the wind. Once again I notice the sheer size of him – he’s a fearsome enemy in every way. And part of me believes he’s still an enemy, and he always will be.

  “What is it?”

  “This I can’t tell you.”

  “What is it, Nicholas?” It’s Elodie. My heart skips a beat as I catch a glimpse of her hand resting on Nicholas’ arm as she leads him. Her fingernails are blue. A terrible thought hits me again, but I can’t quite formulate it in my mind. It’s too cruel. I just can’t look it in the face. Maybe if I deny with all my might, it’ll go away.

  “I can’t say. And anyway, it’s impossible to use. Like I said, there are side effects. Consequences.”

  “What is worse? To face these consequences . . . or to die from the Azasti?” Elodie whispers, her French accent strong. I throw a glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She sees me looking, and controls herself – but it’s too late. I’ve seen the terror in her eyes.

  She knows what’s happening to her. We all know, I suspect, but nobody comes out and says it.

  Another nail in our cross.

  21

  Mine Is This Path

  My mother and my father

  And all those before me

  Their story was written

  In the blood that is mine

  When they thought it was safe, they stopped in a sheltered thicket to rest. The others settled down gladly though cautiously, and let their backpacks fall to the ground. A water bottle and a packet of biscuits soon passed from person to person. Further from the group, Sean sat purposefully in front of Nicholas, and Sarah joined them.

  “Right. Time to answer some questions, Nicholas.” Sean always said his name like it was a curse, or an insult.

  “What questions?” He crossed his long legs in front of him. His face was still scarred from when his skin had ripped open during the brain fury, the torture h
is father inflicted on those he wished to punish, the fire in the brain that caused terrible pain and even death, but the marks were fading, now light pink on white. Once again he was only wearing a T-shirt, his tolerance threshold against the cold a lot higher than any of them. Sean noticed Nicholas had lost a lot of weight, but the muscles in his arms still flexed at every move. His strength was beyond natural.

  “Well, I have quite a few, I suppose. Mainly about your father.”

  “Sure. I’ll tell you all there is to know.” It was a lie, of course, but Nicholas was a good liar.

  “Can he hear you while you talk to us? Will he know what you’re saying?”

  “Not if I shut him out.”

  Sean paused for a moment, still studying his face. His eyes were perfectly black, like a raven’s wing. They would not reveal his secrets.

  “Nicholas. If you’re lying to us I’ll rip you apart. I swear,” Sarah said in a low, menacing voice. She’d been quiet until then, listening intently. Sean gazed at her. Once again he considered how much she had changed. Ruthless, was the way he could have described her sometimes, but it frightened him. When they’d first met he’d thought that what she was going through was like taking a rose and dipping it in steel, and he now saw that he’d been right.

  A rose made of steel, and tempered in tears.

  “What does your father look like?” Sean asked. “How will we know it’s him?”

  “It’s difficult to explain if you’ve never seen him.” Nicholas paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

  “Try us,” said Sarah.

  “My father’s form is not always fixed. It changes. He can take different shapes, and sometimes all of them at once.”

  Sean frowned. “How can we hurt something as powerful as that? There must be a way. You must know of his weaknesses.”