Elodie follows me, grabbing her jacket hanging on the banister. “Would she hurt you?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. I’d like to think not, but I can’t take any chances. There’s something strange going on with her. Remember what Harry used to say about Morag Midnight? Well, they seem uncannily similar.”
“Oh. I see.”
We make our way through the silent, still night. The sky and the air all around us are now dark purple, with the orange tinge of the lights over the city of Edinburgh. I feel full of energy after my sleep, as if I’d shaken off a lead suit I’d been wearing for days.
“Come,” I call, striding down the overgrown path. “We’re walking. I don’t want anyone to spot my car.”
Elodie looks around nervously. “I wonder when they’ll come next,” she whispers. “It’s just a matter of time, isn’t it?”
There’s no need to ask who “they” are.
“True. And they will get Sarah if I’m not there.”
“You said she’s very powerful.”
“She is. But she’s also new to the fight. Sometimes she sort of … forgets she’s a huntress. I always have to convince Sarah to fight. She’s been so sheltered by her parents.”
“Not a wise idea, to shelter a Secret heir. With all we need to face …”
“Well, she’s a Dreamer, so she knew what she was going to have to face one day. I suppose her parents were trying to protect her. Maybe because of what happened to Harry’s aunt … They never even told Sarah about that.”
“They never told Sarah her aunt died?”
“They never even told her she existed.”
“Seriously?”
“Weird, I know. And Sarah even reminded me of Mairead … the way Harry used to describe her. His father, Stewart, was very close to Mairead and he often told Harry about her. She was shy, sensitive. Very quiet. Just like Sarah. But something happened, just a few weeks ago. That’s when she changed.” I take a breath, remembering the terrible day Leigh was killed. “One of Sarah’s best friends was murdered by a Surari. The bastard said that if Sarah sacrificed herself, he’d spare Leigh. Sarah agreed, of course. But I was there. I couldn’t allow it to happen. So it was Leigh who died.”
Our feet make a crunching noise on the frosty grass. There’s silence all around and darkness as we walk across the moorland towards the outskirts of the city.
“After that Sarah changed. The Surari’s slave had possessed a woman – she was the one who killed Leigh. The woman turned up at our door, and well … Sarah slaughtered her. I mean, she slaughtered her. The look in Sarah’s eyes when she finished … It was as if she really was Morag Midnight.”
I haven’t quite managed to finish explaining when the ground rises up to meet me. I hit my face, hard, on a tree root. I taste my own blood as a voice rasps in my ear.
“Back … soil.”
7
The Night Has Eyes
I hope you never know what crawls
In places of the soul
I keep under a shroud
Sean
“Elodie!” I try and warn her, but it’s too late. She lands with a thud beside me. I struggle as hard as I can – the creature’s fingers are wrapped around my ankles, and they’re pulling me under. My eyes meet Elodie’s; she is mute and staring as she too struggles to free herself. I see her reaching for the dagger she carries strapped to her chest. She manages to slip the knife out, but right at that moment the Surari pulls her down another inch, and the blade falls out of reach. I try to take a hold of the dagger strapped around my ankle, but I can’t quite stretch far enough. Maybe Elodie …
“My sgian-dubh!” I mutter, my hands grabbing at the frosty leaves, at the soil, trying to hold on to something, anything. I spit blood.
Elodie understands at once and lifts herself up on her arms, kicking back as hard as she can. She twists herself at an impossible angle and reaches towards my legs. She must have freed one of her ankles, because I see her leg is bent behind her. Her heavy breathing is in my ear as she grabs at my knee, my calf and finally my ankle – I feel her fingers working around the strap, but the demon pulls down again and both my feet are buried deeper. I’m slowly being buried alive.
“I lost it!” cries Elodie. Her head jerks backwards, and I realize the demon must have both her ankles again and is pulling her down too.
“Back. Soil,” says the rasping voice again. It’s coming from underground, somewhere between Elodie and me. I can sense the thing’s head just there, under a shallow layer of earth.
I dig with one hand, under the leaves, under soil, until a mop of black hair appears. I pull at its hair as hard as I can, and the creature growls in anger. I look over at Elodie, and our eyes meet – she knows at once what I’m trying to do.
I feel the ground frantically with my hands – Elodie is being wrenched further and further underground. “Sean!” she calls. It’s dark, but her face is so white it’s glowing.
Please don’t let Elodie die like this.
Rage burns through me, and with a sudden burst of strength I grab at the black hair again, yanking and ripping until the creature does what I want it to do – it comes to the surface with a jump, in a shower of leaves and earth. Elodie is free – she scrambles to her feet as quickly as she can, panting.
I have a split second to take in the Surari’s face, its sickly white skin that has never seen the light of day, the unseeing eyes, the mouth crowded with black and broken teeth – and then Elodie is on it, with a roar you wouldn’t believe could come from a woman so slight. She lands on the Surari’s stomach, sinking her knees into its chest.
Right at that moment, a second soil demon hauls me under.
Shit.
Almost immediately I’m up to my waist in wet, cold earth, kicking against the weight of the sodden soil. I can only watch as the Surari grabs Elodie by the arms and throws her off. She’s up again in a second, her arms stretched out to take hold of the Surari again, but it’s quicker than her. It has its hands on her hips and its mouth open to take a bite of her stomach.
I don’t have a blade – my fingers will have to do. I lift my hands and start tracing, whispering the secret words, hoping they won’t desert me when I need them most. I try to ignore the dragging at my heels. The exposed Surari moans and squirms for a moment, as if confused, then turns its face towards the source of the pain. I close my eyes and trace harder, whispering as fast as I can without jumbling the words. I can see a red light through my closed eyelids – it’s just for an instant, but it’s definitely red. A car’s tail-lights? A farmer’s tractor lights? I don’t allow myself to open my eyes as my movements get faster and faster – the runes have taken over, carrying me with them. The soil demon growls – I stab and stab again without touching it, and the creatures howls in pain.
All of a sudden, I can’t breathe anymore – my mouth is full of soil. Muffled sounds, my lungs exploding – there’s no air, no air. It can’t be. I can’t die like this, buried alive. I can’t.
“Elodie …” I try to say, but as I open my lips soil gets in my mouth and down my throat and I begin to suffocate. I cough. My chest is in agony.
Who’s going to look after Sarah?
There’s only darkness around me, and cold, and I can’t even move a finger. A thought hits me, as clear as ice: I’m dead. I’m dead.
But there’s another jerking movement, less hard this time – and different. Different because it pulls me up towards the surface and not down towards a wet, black tomb.
“Sean!”
The voice is muffled. Something is grabbing at my fingers, hard, and is yanking me upwards with a scream of rage and terror and a voice that belongs to Elodie.
I can make out the words. “Niryana prati Surari!” the voice is saying. “Niryana!” I recognize it as one of the battle cries of the Secret Families, in the ancient language. Whatever had been wrapped around my ankles suddenly lets go – and the blessed, blessed hand that pulls me upwards grabs my wris
ts – my lungs are bursting, exploding with pain – how long can a man survive without air? Not much longer. And then, with a final terrible effort, a million stars explode over my head and I’m staring at the night sky, and breathing, breathing deeply, painfully, like a baby who breathes for the first time.
“Sean! Sean!” Elodie’s hands are brushing the soil away from my eyes.
I splutter and cough, and turn my head to throw up soil and bile. I gulp in fresh air at once, then spit some more and inhale some more, until my head stops splitting and my lungs stop screaming.
“Are you OK? Sean, are you OK?” Elodie says over and over again – she’s terrified, I can hear it in her voice. So much to lose. So much more than when there were hundreds of us hunting – now every loss is a disaster to humanity.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” I wipe my mouth with my sleeve. I’m covered in mud, and wriggling little creatures fall out of my hair as I sit up.
“That was close,” she whispers.
“Did you see someone? Did someone see us?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw a red light. I thought maybe a car.”
Elodie shakes her head. “There was no car. It was you. Your runes. There was a red light.” She waves her slender fingers in the air. “Like a ribbon.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, and no time to ponder. “The soil demons?”
“One is dead.” She points to a lifeless bundle lying not far from us – it’s curled up in a ball, its white skin gleaming feebly. Its lips are blue. Elodie has poisoned it. Black liquid is pouring from where I’d stabbed it with my runes.
“The other?”
“I don’t—”
A hand spurts out of the soil like a monstrous root, and another, fumbling at her legs – and then a head, growling and sniffing the air for flesh. But this time I’m ready – I slip my sgian-dubh out of its strap and start tracing the runes once more.
The Surari lifts itself up in fury and leaps at me – I raise my dagger, placing an invisible barrier between us. The creature growls and holds its throat where I have slashed it open, black liquid spurting from the severed flesh.
“You buried me alive, you bastard!” I scream. What am I doing? Speaking to the Surari, like Sarah?
“Back soil … Me … back soil.”
“Niryana!” yells Elodie again.
“Elodie! No!” But it’s too late. She’s thrown herself on the demon, as agile as a cat. But she is no match for it. The Surari grabs her hair, its mouth is open.
I have no choice. I launch myself towards the creature to stop it biting Elodie.
But there’s no need. Before I can reach it I see Elodie’s lips, black as the night, touch the Surari’s rotten, pale ones. Its arms, posed to claw the flesh off her bones, flail and fall to its sides. The demon clutches at its throat as its mouth darkens, a blue-black tinge slowly spreading over its face. It collapses, squirming on the ground, and I’m shocked, I’m speechless as I see something on its face.
A single tear, rolling down its cheek.
“It’s OK,” says Elodie. “I can handle this.”
8
Makara
The seventh wave
Is the one that carries my heart
The Atlantic Ocean
Niall was clutching the rusty metal rail so that the wind wouldn’t sweep him into the ocean. He wished he could jump off the cargo ship into the water and swim all the way back to Ireland, back home. But he knew that wasn’t an option. He knew he had to save his own life. Going home was simply impossible. Not yet, anyway. Since the Enemy had risen and started the slaughter of the Secret heirs all over the world, all Niall was allowed to think of was survival.
“Planning a swim?” Mike was beside him suddenly, shivering in his bright red jacket, his arms wrapped around himself. He hated the cold. They could barely hear each other over the roar of the wind.
“Hopefully soon,” Niall replied. There was a gust of wind so hard that he thought it might blow him into the sea – and he would have loved that, he would have loved to feel the seawater on his face, around his body. But the cargo ship was too fast – he would lose them. It was only that thought that stopped him from jumping. It didn’t worry him that the Atlantic is cold and deep and vast and that they were in the middle of it, because Niall didn’t have reason to fear the cold, or the depth of water. He was a Flynn, and Flynns can’t die in water.
“Only a few days to go before we arrive. Look at those clouds! Oh, man. If they come our way we’re in for a choppy sea.” Mike shuddered, imagining the worst.
“Those are not a problem.”
“No?” Mike looked at Niall, puzzled.
Niall smiled, took a deep breath, and sang in the ancient language. He sang the clouds away. Slowly but surely they moved, the gale weakening ever so slightly, then more and more until it was just a breeze blowing softly their way. Mike stared at Niall, his eyes big and round.
“There you go,” said Niall with a satisfied grin.
“Niall. How did you do that?” Mike asked, still stunned.
“That, my friend, was the power of Song.”
“Seriously?”
Niall shrugged his shoulders. “All Flynns can do it. My little sister is great at it. She could sing the wind when she was in her pram!”
My sister, Bridin. And Cara, a year younger than Bridin. Hiding in Dublin. I don’t even know if they’re safe. I don’t know if my parents are safe either. They would not leave Ireland. Niall would have gladly stayed too, but he couldn’t. It was his duty as a firstborn Secret heir to survive and fight.
“You’re full of surprises, Niall.”
Niall shrugged. “I told you I had the power of Song.”
“Yeah, to kill demons.” Mike lowered his voice to an urgent whisper, swiftly looking left and right. “Not to change the damn weather!” He pointed at the corner of blue sky appearing where the black clouds had been only seconds earlier. His teeth were chattering.
“Yes, well …” Niall shrugged as if his powers weren’t that big a deal. “Let’s go inside. You’re freezing.”
“I am, yes. But I’ve spent forever on this boat, I have cabin fever!”
They walked down the narrow steps, and sat on the benches in the lounge where the crew went to chat and smoke and drink. Two crewmen were cradling a cup of coffee each, their waterproofs on. As soon as Mike and Niall came in, they got up and left, throwing them suspicious looks. They probably think we’re criminals on the run, thought Niall.
“You alright there?” said one of the other men. Anders, a Dane, was the only one who occasionally spoke to the two strangers on board.
Mike nodded. “Fine, thanks,” he replied briefly, as Anders too left the lounge. He took his woollen hat off and threw it grumpily on the table. “I can’t wait to be off this boat,” he muttered.
“Five days to Liverpool. We’re nearly there.”
“And then?”
“Another boat, I suppose.”
“Over my dead body,” growled Mike.
“Swim?”
“Ha ha.”
“Ah well, we’ll think of something. We always do,” said Niall good-naturedly. But Mike didn’t hear what Niall had said. His eyes were fixed on the waves out of the window, his coffee-coloured skin suddenly bleached with fear.
“Niall …”
Something in his friend’s voice made Niall’s heart quicken. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. I think I saw something. Out there.”
“Like what?”
“Like an eye.” Mike pointed to the porthole.
“An … Shit! I saw it too!” Niall rushed to get a closer look.
A grey mound had risen from under the waves, and a black eye as big as a horse was staring at them. They barely had the time to register what they’d seen, when the eye disappeared under the water.
“It’s not a whale,” whispered Mike.
Niall’s voice was shaking. “No. It’s
not a whale. It’s a Makara.”
Mike’s eyes widened as he recognized the word from the ancient language: sea monster. “We can’t do this on our own. We need to tell the captain,” he said. His Gamekeeper training had kicked in. No time for panic.
“You go tell him. I’m going up on deck to try the Song.”
He’ll get killed, thought Mike despairingly. But he knew there was no choice.
They both knew they had no choice. There was no way they could fight the demon without Niall’s power.
Mike ran up the steep steps and barged through the heavy door, into the bridge. “Captain. You need to listen to me now. There’s something out there.”
Captain Young was examining a map and didn’t even turn around. He hadn’t been entirely happy about taking these two lads on board for the crossing but until now they hadn’t been much trouble. Still, he had no intention of making them feel welcome on board.
“I’m busy. Next time, knock,” he said coldly.
“Captain Young. There’s a monster out there,” Mike repeated, trying to keep his tone even. He knew that if he started shouting he’d be dismissed.
“Are you drunk?” the captain growled, turning to face his visitor.
“No. You must call your men—” Mike couldn’t finish the sentence. The boat made a sudden jump, as if something had hit it, and then kept rolling on the crest of subsequent waves.
“What was that?” yelled the captain. He moved across to hang onto the brass rail that ran along the inside of his cabin.
“It’s a sea creature. A big one.” Mike swallowed. He knew it must sound like something out of a children’s fantasy novel.
Captain Young’s eyes widened. “I knew you were trouble,” he whispered, but as the ship pitched and rolled, he realized that whatever his feelings about the boy, the ship was in trouble. He strode towards a low cupboard. Inside were several guns. He threw one to Mike and kept one for himself. They made their way downstairs, struggling to stay upright on the swaying boat.
Tide (The Sarah Midnight Trilogy) Page 5
