Yes, of course. We can all comfortably rest in your house, I think to myself. I’ll sleep like a baby for sure.
We’re all soaking, and the cold wind is biting us. Freezing white mist rises from the ground. Alvise is carrying my backpack, as I’m still weak. I still stumble a bit, but I’m recovering fast. Sarah walks shoulder to shoulder with me. I catch a glimpse of her profile – her face is hard, set. Determined. But there’s a strange look in her eyes.
“Hey. I’m okay. I’m here,” I whisper.
“If something should happen to you . . .” She doesn’t finish the sentence.
“Then you’ll keep going. You’ll finish this.”
She takes a breath, and nods. “Yes. You must promise the same.”
“I promise.” I’d keep going long enough to do what I must do. And then give up. A life without Sarah is not worth living.
Weird, how I knew that already soon after we met. Like whatever binds me to Sarah is the same thing that binds me to life. I hold her hand harder, tighter, and I don’t want to let go. I don’t care if everyone can see us, though neither of us likes making a show of our feelings. I won’t let her go.
The sun is setting behind us in an explosion of pink, red and orange, and we cast long shadows on the ground. Intermittent buzzing sounds accompany us, as Micol’s hands shine with multi-coloured charges. Strange sounds come from the trees, calls and animal growls and deep, bird-like squeaks. What’s hiding in those trees? More leeches? Surari whose existence we have no idea about? What will come next, to try to destroy us?
In my time in Japan, when the culling of the heirs began, I saw things that I’d rather forget – but I can’t. I can never forget the creatures that slithered out of the Tokyo metro, and the things they could do to human bodies. I hold Sarah’s hand tighter as memories of old horrors crept into my mind.
I think of Mary Ann. A Gamekeeper like me, and my former girlfriend. I never loved her, not like I love Sarah, but I cared about her. I care about her still. For a while, Harry Midnight, Elodie, Mary Ann and I were a team, fighting together in Japan. Harry is dead, Elodie is sick, and Mary Ann . . . I’m afraid to find out what happened to her.
Shadows are falling all around us, the patches of sky we see between the oak branches getting darker by the minute. Twilight, the hour that always struck fear in our ancestors’ minds, as predators sharpen their senses and ready themselves for the hunt. Night is falling fast, the air turning from lilac to purple in a heartbeat. Everything is wilder in this world, bigger, more vivid. An ancient wind-swept sky extends above us, the shadow of the moon getting stronger as darkness falls . . . In the Shadow World, even moonbeams can be deadly. I shudder, remembering the moon-demons.
“Eyes open for the moonbeams, everyone,” I remind them.
“What does he mean?” I hear Alvise asking Niall.
“Moon-demons,” Niall explains. “Sort of ghosts, really. Like animated moonbeams. If you touch them, you’ll turn into them. They attacked us the moment we arrived.”
“I always wonder if there’s an end to demons’ variety. New ones seem to spring out all the time,” Alvise says.
“In the Midnight library I saw a Surari Compendium,” Niall replied. “I swear, it freaked the hell out of me. And I’m a Dreamer, I’ve seen my share of Surari.”
“I wonder what’s worse, another night outside or one inside Nicholas’ castle,” I whisper to Sarah.
“Why did he not tell us about it before? Did he think it was an unimportant detail?” she replies.
I catch a glimpse of his imposing silhouette moving between the trees. “Who knows what goes through that dark mind of his?”
I long for some warmth, my body still frozen from the long immersion in the water. I feel like my bones will never dry up. We’re all so cold. We’ve been cold for days and nights without ever warming up fully. A fire would be a godsend.
All of a sudden we emerge from under the roof of trees, and find ourselves under a black sky full of stars. I can see the Great Bear just above us, and the Big Dipper, and more. The constellations are so clear it’s like watching every star in the universe being born. Only in the wildest, most remote places on earth could you see as many stars as this – a whole sea of them. Sarah is looking up in awe, the light of the moon reflected in her eyes.
We make our way along the curve of a steep, stony hill, barren of trees. I’m nervous, aware of what might lurk above us, or among the rocks of its ragged ridges. Past the hill there’s yet another ridge, black and steep and completely smooth, making the climb impossible, and against it, a stone building that seems to have sprouted from the rim, its windows dark like empty sockets, its walls covered in vines. Nicholas’ castle.
“Welcome home,” I whisper under my breath.
31
Shouts and Whispers
Memories screaming
They will be never silenced
But the day will come
When our children will forget
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Alvise murmured.
They stood in front of the wooden portal, daggers at the ready. The door was double their height, decorated with abstract carvings. In the middle there was a heavy iron ring shaped like a serpent biting its tail.
Sean’s voice was low and lethal. “Nicholas. If this is a trap I swear I’m going to rip the flesh from your bones.”
“It’s not a trap, Sean. There are fires to be lit inside and beds and water. Unless you want to keep going through the night.”
Sean ignored him. “Everybody ready?”
“There’s nothing inside,” said Nicholas impatiently. “The place is covered in spells, sealed all over. Nothing can get in here while I’m away.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Open that door,” Sean replied, his sgian-dubh moving already, readying itself to trace the runes.
Nicholas rested a hand flat on the door – suddenly, the nightly calls and growls in the woods behind them and the stony hills above them seemed to rise in intensity, like a weird greeting for Nicholas’ return. He whispered a few words in the Ancient language and the door opened under his touch, noiselessly, as if the heavy wood had been as light as a feather and its hinges oiled that same morning. Nicholas and Elodie entered first, followed by the others. It wasn’t completely dark. Dusky light was seeping from the windows carved in the stone – but it was hard to make out shapes in such a muted light. Sean, Sarah and Niall retrieved and switched on their torches, their beams illuminating a stone floor, high ceilings, and a cavernous hall.
As she stepped inside, Sarah felt her head spin. She was entering a place between two worlds, present in both dimensions and still suspended between the two. The air inside smelled damp, mould grew on the high ceilings, and in every hidden corner invisible spores flew through the air. It was cold, colder than outside. The place felt heavy with memories, heavy with history – unhappy history. A strange weight settled on Sarah’s chest, and once again she sensed ghostly fingers touching her face, her arms, travelling down her back. She breathed in softly.
“Are you okay?” asked Sean at once. His torch was darting around, and all his senses were alert for possible attacks.
“Yes,” she replied and gazed at the cold stone walls and the ancient weavings hanging from them, greyed with time, the scenes they depicted now impossible to decipher.
“You’re a dab hand at interior design, aren’t you, Nicholas?” Niall said, his light Irish voice sounding absurd, out of place, in the gloomy atmosphere. “This is lovely,” he continued, eyes resting on the weapons and trophies hanging on the walls, severed heads of enormous, prehistoric stags and weird buffalo-like creatures. “Airy and bright and . . . just very you.”
“There’s someone here,” Elodie interrupted, her lips darkening. The sound of thunder accompanied her words, and blue lightning flashed outside the windows, striking black stones on the hills.
“Surari?” asked Sean.
“It can’t be,” Nicholas
said, adamant.
“I . . . I don’t know. I . . . Wait. I can’t feel anything any more,” said Elodie, uncertainty creeping in her voice. “I’m not sure what I felt. Sorry.” Flashes of blue light illuminated her delicate face and her blue, poisonous lips.
“There is no one in here but us,” Nicholas repeated. “Nothing can come in. I made sure of that. Let’s light the fires and get some rest. We’re safe for a few hours.”
Sean studied his face at the light of the torch. “Elodie sensed something,” he said. “She’s always right.”
“Whatever it was, I think it’s gone,” Elodie whispered, eyes closed to sharpen her psychic sense.
“Or it’s hiding,” Sarah intervened.
“Fine. Feel free to explore the place,” Nicholas said, his anger now out in the open. “I’ve been blinded and half killed, I’ve saved your lives, and you still can’t trust me. You won’t find anything. The whole place has been sealed shut by hundreds of spells, and they were all unbroken when we arrived. I checked. You don’t need eyes to sense them. We’re the first living creatures to step inside since the last time I was here, and that was hundreds of years ago.”
“You haven’t been back here for as long as that?” asked Elodie.
Nicholas shook his head. “Too many memories,” he said, too softly for anyone to hear but Elodie, who was standing the closest to him.
Sean would not be convinced. “Niall, Alvise, Micol, check upstairs,” he said. “We’ll have a look down here. Nicholas, you stick with us, and stay where I can see you. Elodie, keep an eye on him.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” she replied testily.
“Safe, sorry, and all that!” Niall quipped in Nicholas’ direction and began humming softly, making his way up the steps.
Sarah followed Sean inside the castle’s depths, her eyes glowing green. The place, as spooky and as eerie as it felt, looked lived in, like its inhabitants should all be asleep, waiting to come downstairs and start the day. Apart from the freezing cold and the ever-present thick grey dust, you would have thought people still lived here, or had abandoned the place a few hours before and not hundreds of years ago.
Sarah, Sean, Nicholas and Elodie entered what looked like several sitting rooms, every wall covered in tapestries, the dusty curtains open, untouched. Unmoving, Sarah noticed. For such an ancient place, there were no draughts at all, unlike in her Islay mansion. She remembered Nicholas’ words: the place had been sealed shut. Maybe he wasn’t lying when he’d said that nobody could have come in.
And nobody could have gone out, she couldn’t help thinking. Her hair stood on end as a picture of long-dead people piled up somewhere in the castle entered her mind.
Next they stepped inside a dining hall. In the centre sat an enormous table dotted with candelabra, and more sinister trophies hung from the walls. Sarah stopped for a moment to retrieve matches from her backpack and lit the candles. They glowed orange and golden in the gloom, casting long flickering shadows throughout the room.
“Logs on the fire,” she pointed out to Sean as they passed an ornate fireplace, a note of longing in her voice. Oh, to light a fire and finally get warm!
Then came what looked like a grand hall, with its floor worn and uneven after years of being stepped on. Silence hung as heavy as the stones the place was made of. No sounds, no movements. It was as if not even the mice and flies and earwigs, and all the other little creatures that crawl in abandoned places, had been allowed in. No spider webs embroidering the ceilings like lace. There was no sign of life in any form. But it was the kitchens that spooked Sarah the most: pots and pans and crockery on the big wooden tables, cloths covered in dust that seemed to have been left there mid-cleaning . . . Sarah was reminded of the Mary Celeste, the ship found with nobody on board, and everything untouched, everything ready for use – like it had been left in a heartbeat, or everybody there had vanished.
Sarah’s heart leapt as they stepped into what looked like a laundry room, with stone basins and an iron-carved pump. “Tell me there’s running water,” she said to Nicholas.
“Well, the pump should still work. We can light the fires and warm the water that way. There are tin baths in the bathrooms . . .”
“Bathrooms?” Sarah exclaimed. She couldn’t help herself. The idea of washing off the grime and sweat and bruises was too good.
“Yes. Upstairs.”
Sarah closed her eyes briefly. She could not wait for a proper wash at last – the unexpected luxury felt like a blessing. She tried the pump. It was rusty and heavy, and the water wasn’t exactly clear, but it was passable.
“All okay, I suppose. Elodie?” said Sean.
“I can’t feel anything,” the French girl replied, looking around her.
“Let’s get the others.” Sean would not let his guard down, not while they were on Nicholas’ territory.
32
Winter Shaw
Bloodlines forever
Stretching through the land
And those of us
Who were made to leave
Venice
Since her conversation with Sarah, they had heard no more from Lucrezia. Winter had sat with the girl every waking minute, waiting, hoping. She’d even asked Conte Vendramin if she could sleep in the room too, in case Lucrezia had a message for them in the middle of the night. The count had agreed and ordered a wrought-iron bed to be brought in for Winter.
Now she lay awake, listening to Lucrezia’s frantic whispering and watching the grey Adriatic Sea from the window. She couldn’t stop thinking of Niall. Never before in all fifty years of her life – Elementals age very slowly – had she felt that way for anyone. Since the Midnights had tried to take her life, horrified by her hybrid nature, her trust in human beings had been shaken to the point that she’d preferred the company of seals. During her long exile from Islay, she’d been content with the seals for companions, and the occasional conversation with islanders, who were curious about her but reserved enough not to pry. She had a passionate nature, and a few young men had drifted in and out of her life. But, her desire for freedom had always been stronger than her need for love. She’d seen her mother lose her heart to Winter’s Elemental father, but then settle down with Hugh Shaw in a loving, loyal marriage that had healed her after the loss of Winter’s father. Winter could not accept anything less.
That was why when she returned to Islay and settled in the whitewashed cottage that had been her parents’, she had no plans to let anyone in her life. She was happy managing her time on land and her time in the sea with the seals.
And then Sarah Midnight had arrived, and with her Niall Flynn, and everything had changed. She thought the Irish boy would have been a joyous interlude in her solitary life, that she would let him love her but not get too close, but she had fallen for him.
After fifty years, life had surprised Winter, given her so much happiness and then taken it away. But it was not in her nature to despair. She was always drawn to the light, to joy, just like she could see that Sarah was drawn to sorrow. Lying in her bed in Venice beside the sleeping girl, awake and listening to Lucrezia’s whispering, Winter’s heart was full of hope. She would not cry, she would not despair, until she was sure she had reason for it.
Winter freed her arm from the sheets, and extended it towards Lucrezia. She felt for the girl’s hand until she found her cold, thin fingers, and held it. It might have been her imagination, but she had the distinct impression that Lucrezia squeezed her hand ever so slightly back.
She closed her eyes and let herself drift to sleep.
33
Locked
I keep you in a box
Inside my heart
And nobody needs to know
“Let’s stay together,” Alvise whispered to Micol as they prowled the first floor at the light of the torches, his pugnale in hand. Micol’s fingers were shimmering and crackling more and more as they advanced.
“I’m not going anywhere on my own. This plac
e gives me the creeps – even more than Palazzo Vendramin!” Micol exclaimed, and a brighter spark left her hands. A strong smell of cloistered air, like air trapped in an airplane, spread around them.
“My hair just stood up, Micol. Can you turn it down a notch?” asked Niall kindly.
“Okay. Sorry. It’s so weird that the beds are all made,” said Micol, running a sparking hand along a dusty silk duvet, decorated with green and yellow patterns. “Like they all left so suddenly. Didn’t even carry their stuff somewhere else . . .”
Every room was the same. Four-poster beds, dark wooden furniture, heavy hangings and rugs. In every room there was no noise, no sign of life, the air perfectly still.
“Nicholas didn’t live here on his own, that’s for sure,” Alvise observed as they reached the end of the corridor. “I wonder if he had a family. Do half-demons have families?”
“I know I had one. Before him and his father decided to kill us all,” said Micol bitterly.
There was one room left to check. It had a double door, different from the others – the wood was lighter and carved in gentle patterns, leaves and flowers. Niall stepped in first. The room was panelled in light wood, the same shade as its door. Yet another four-poster bed stood in the middle, perfectly made in white linen sheets and white draping, though dust had turned them grey. Against the small window there was a dressing table with a vase of long-dead, blackened roses. They checked every nook and cranny – and when they turned to go, Micol threw one last look inside. And there it was, a small orange light, flickering beside the dressing table, and then floating past them out of the room. Micol gasped.
“Something wrong?” asked Alvise.
“No . . . No. Everything fine.” She didn’t know how to explain what she’d just seen. “I just saw a . . . light.”
“Niall’s torch, maybe?”
Spirit Page 16
