Sarah looked across the street, over the blonde sandstone houses and further on towards the moorland. The shadows were closing, night was drawing in, and she’d have to walk there, on the soft earth in which the soil demons hid. Every step could be the one where a white, bloodless hand closed around her ankle.
Sarah breathed deeply. I’m not turning back. After all, I haven’t dreamt of soil demons at all, she said to herself.
But I haven’t dreamt of anything at all in weeks.
Sarah frowned. She’d cast the spell. She’d found where Sean was living. And now, to stop him coming to her, she’d go to him.
Sarah pulled her shoulders back to feel the comforting presence of her sgian-dubh slipped into her bra. A useful trick, one that Sean had taught her. Though the idea of carrying a knife in her bra was somewhere between horrible and funny, really.
Her steps echoed on the pavement and into the night. The street was quiet, the lights on in the terraced houses. Most people were home from work now and sitting with their families in peace, the curtains closed. Sarah wrapped her arms around herself and sped up, walking as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. A little park, and after the park – the moorland. Black, deserted. And somewhere about a mile from where she stood, Sean’s house.
Sarah stepped onto the soft, mossy soil. She swallowed. Would a hand come out of the earth? Would a white face appear, mouth open to bite the air blindly, looking for flesh?
She slipped her hands under her jumper, and took out her sgian-dubh. Just in case.
She didn’t feel it coming, she didn’t hear it coming, and it didn’t spring out of the ground. The creature stepped behind her and held her in a vice-like grip, scratching at her jacket, shaking her like a dog shakes a rabbit.
Sarah could feel the Surari’s fur against her neck – but no, it wasn’t fur – it felt different – were they feathers? She looked to the hands that had grabbed her waist – they were monstrous, with claws as long as little daggers, tearing at her jacket. Something began to burrow into the back of her neck – something pointed, sharp. Painful.
Because the demon had both her arms in a vicious grip, Sarah couldn’t use the sgian-dubh in her defence. Instead, she writhed and struggled, trying to free herself, but getting nowhere. To her horror, she felt one of those clawed hands travelling up her arm and to her neck – the claws felt cold against the throbbing skin of her neck, so thin, with its watermark of veins and arteries just beneath, easily reached, easily torn.
But in moving its hand, the creature released its hold a fraction, giving Sarah just enough time to lift her arm and elbow her attacker in the chest. She used her advantage to turn, her aunt’s sgian-dubh in her hands, and she was face to face with her assailant.
She let out a gasp of horror – in front of her there was something feathery and beaked, crowned with a mane of long, straight, lucid black hair. Two black, almond-shaped eyes glared at her from among the feathers – but the gloomy light made it impossible for Sarah to see more. Sarah shook herself and summoned her power. She stared into the Surari’s eyes, expecting the thing to shake and wail under the Midnight gaze – but it didn’t move, it didn’t even flinch.
No demon is immune to the Midnight gaze! thought Sarah in anger and disbelief.
Sensing her hesitation, the Surari launched itself again towards Sarah. She went to push the sgian-dubh into its stomach but she missed, the feathered creature had turned at the last minute. Her hands were burning with the Blackwater – one touch, if held for long enough, would suffice. If only she could touch it, and at the same time avoid those claws.
Sarah and the Surari were face to face again now. It wasn’t any bigger than she was, and it seemed just as slight as her – gaunt, even – had it not been for those claws, and that vicious pointed beak.
After a brief moment of sizing each other up, the demon went for her again. Sarah lifted her sgian-dubh, and this time she grazed its arm. Immediately, the creature stopped, holding its wounded arm against itself, frozen. Sarah was dumbfounded. It was just a graze – definitely not enough to kill it. And this was a Surari – one of the most terrifying forces in the world. Why was it standing there like a child crying over a scraped knee? It made no sense.
Sarah saw her chance. She jumped on it, her hands burning, ready to strike with the Blackwater.
And something completely unexpected happened.
The Surari lifted itself out from under Sarah’s astounded gaze and slowly began to levitate away, its black, almond-shaped eyes never leaving Sarah, its arms extended and its legs curled beneath it like a hawk’s legs. It rose further and further up until it was in line with the roofs of the terraced houses, then it did a backwards flip and disappeared towards the city. Sarah hadn’t spoken a word, and the creature hadn’t made a sound.
She was burning with shock and anger. The Midnight gaze failed. This Surari must be immune to it … or is it me? Is the gaze failing me, like the dreams? Still, it worked on that boy in school – though it was just a touch, not a full attack.
She turned and ran across the moorland, her eyes scanning the sky as she went, still watching her step for things that might come out of the soil – but now she was too furious to be afraid. Sooner or later, she knew she would destroy the demon-bird.
14
Night Deceives Us
Next time I see you
There will be walls
Elodie ran downstairs and burst into the kitchen. “Someone is here,” she said urgently.
Sean was sharpening his sgian-dubh against a kitchen knife. Without missing a beat, he placed the other knife on the counter, the knife still in his hand. “Did you see something?”
“I felt them. Leave it to me,” whispered Elodie. Her lips had taken on a bluish tinge already.
“Wait!” Sean took her by her arm. “Wait!”
Somebody had called his name from behind the closed door. And the voice beyond the door, the voice that spoke his name – that voice he knew.
He flung open the door and there she was, standing on the doorstep, eyes big with apprehension and cheeks red from the cold. Sean stood still, holding himself back.
“Sarah.”
“Can I come in?” she said in a small voice.
“Of course. Of course. You must be freezing. Come and warm yourself,” he said, ushering her into the hallway.
Sarah steeled herself. She hadn’t risked the scrying spell and come all this way to show him how lost she was. She wasn’t going to play straight into his hands.
But she’d missed him so much, and his parting words had haunted her since he had left her the previous night. She needed to find a way to forgive him.
The awkwardness of it all made Sarah blush. But she was determined to do what she had come to do, to say what needed to be said. She was just about to speak when a blonde woman stepped into the hallway.
Sean spoke without turning his eyes away from Sarah. “Just a minute, Elodie.”
Elodie. Harry’s wife, Sarah thought.
“I couldn’t wait to see you,” she blurted out, and immediately regretted her words. They didn’t sound right. She didn’t want him to know that she’d missed him.
Sean’s eyes widened. He was fighting the urge to take her face in his hands and just look at her, look at her properly, the way he hadn’t been able to do for so long.
“Where’s Nicholas?” he said instead.
Sarah hadn’t expected that. “Probably at my house right now. He’s there every night.” Her voice had an imperceptibly petulant undertone.
“Is he?” Sean shrugged. “What a great boyfriend.”
“Yes, well I think who I go out with is not really the main issue here.”
Sean sighed and lowered his eyes. “No. Of course not.”
Sarah read his face: defeat. Her heart contracted painfully. “I need to speak to you. Alone.” She added, glancing towards the living room where Elodie was waiting.
“Of course. Come upstairs. Just
don’t attack me, please.” Sean attempted a smile, one of his dimpled smiles that never failed to stir her.
They walked up the musty stairs. “This place is falling down around your ears, Har—I mean Sean.”
“It serves its purpose, I suppose.”
Sarah looked around Sean’s bedroom in dismay. Mould eating the ceiling, wallpaper peeling off in damp curls, a wintry draught from the window that chilled the whole place. Sean read her thoughts. “Like I said, it serves its purpose. And it’s only temporary,” he mumbled.
“It has to be, unless you want to die from the cold. And … mould poisoning, or something.”
Only then Sean noticed the mark on Sarah’s black jacket. “Sarah?” he asked, pointing at the torn material.
Sarah nodded. “It happened on the way here.”
“Jesus, Sarah!” Sean placed his hands on her arms and looked into her face. Sarah was startled – his touch was sudden, unexpected. But she didn’t move, and she held his gaze. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. The name had changed – Harry Midnight had become Sean Hannay – but those clear blue eyes she had looked into when waking up from one of her terrifying dreams, when she thought she was about to be killed, when she’d found her mother’s diary, when the world was full of threat and he had provided her only place of refuge – those eyes were still the same.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please don’t make me leave your side again.”
I love you, he didn’t say.
“I forgive you,” she said.
Don’t leave my side again, she didn’t say.
“Elodie. This is Sarah.”
Elodie looked from one to the other, and back again. The expression on Sean’s face had taken her by surprise. Sarah’s presence makes him happy, she realized, and the thought stung, for reasons she couldn’t really understand.
“Harry’s wife,” said Sarah.
“Yes.”
They looked at each other for a second, and Elodie’s expression was harder than she intended. Sarah held her gaze, not giving anything away.
“Sit down, Sarah. Here, near the fire.” Sean led her to the warmth. He was concerned by her frail appearance. “Coffee? Something to eat?” he offered.
Sarah half-smiled. Sean seemed to think caffeine was the answer to everything. She remembered once, after a terrible attack where they both nearly got strangled by a seven-foot tall demon and Sean had been hit over the head with such force that he’d passed out, after coming to he’d gone straight to the kitchen to make himself an espresso.
“Yes please,” she said, surprising herself. “I’m starving.”
And she was. It wasn’t the time and place to explain to Sean how little she’d been eating, how every time she was around Nicholas she lost any interest in food. But now her stomach was rumbling. She was reminded of when Harry – Sean – had first arrived, how that night she had been able to eat properly for the first time since her parents’ death.
“I’m on it,” said Sean, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Sarah and Elodie in an awkward silence, studying each other from under their eyelashes. Thankfully, he was back in a few minutes with steaming coffee and some toast. Sarah tucked in, relishing every mouthful.
“Sarah was attacked,” Sean explained to Elodie.
“You can’t be left alone,” the French girl remarked at once. She sounded genuinely worried, but her implication that Sarah couldn’t fend for herself annoyed her no end.
“I’m here, am I not?” she snapped.
Elodie lowered her head and Sarah felt strangely triumphant.
“What was it? Did you kill it?” asked Sean. He waited while she finished her toast, noticing how fast she ate it.
“I’ve never seen a Surari like that before,” Sarah answered, cleaning her hands carefully on the napkin. “For real or in my dreams. It had a bird’s face … and clawed hands. But the rest of it looked quite human – arms and legs in all the right places. It was dark, though, and I didn’t kill it. It … flew away.”
“Flew?”
Sarah nodded.
“This means it’s still around,” hissed Elodie.
Sarah ignored her again.
“How did you find the cottage?” asked Sean, apparently unaware of the tension between Sarah and Elodie.
“Guess.” Sarah twisted to lift her jumper slightly. On her lower back there was a red, angry mark that was beginning to turn blue.
Sean winced. “The scrying spell,” he guessed, remembering what had happened the time they’d cast that spell together.
“Oh, and this.” Sarah brushed her hair away, revealing a blue bump on her forehead. “At least the demon-bird only shred my jacket and not my skin. By the way, this is yours.” She buried her hand inside her jeans pocket and took out the red velvet pouch.
“My protection charm. I must have left it when … when I …” When I pinned you down, trying to stop you from using the Midnight gaze.
“Yes.” Sarah knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Oh God, Sarah! There’s your blood on it. I wish you had never cast that spell. You should have just asked me!”
“Well, I managed it myself, Sean. I’m here now,” she said coolly, biting into a second slice of toast.
Elodie looked from one to the other again, trying to take it all in. There was something between them, something she was no part of. Her heart sank, and she didn’t even know why.
“We have something to show you.”
She took a book from the mantelpiece and sat beside Sarah at the fireplace. Sean joined them, and the two blonde heads and the black one bent over the book.
“Harry gave me this before I left. He wrote a message in it. It’s in Gaelic,” said Elodie, showing Sarah the scribbled sentence.
“S ann an Ile a tha n fhreagairt. Cum faire air Morag, airson gur ise an iuchair,” murmured Sarah without hesitation. “The accents are missing.”
“OK, but what does it mean?” said Elodie impatiently.
“Did Harry leave this message for you?”
“Yes.”
“We think that Harry knew Elodie would need you to translate it. That’s why he wrote it in Gaelic,” explained Sean.
“So what does it mean?” Elodie repeated.
Sarah sat back in her chair. “It means I was right. I had a hunch I had to go to Islay, to Midnight Hall. That there I’d find out something more that I need to know, something about all this … and about my family as well. The message Harry sent us says: The answer lies on Islay. Watch over Morag, she’s the key. Morag Midnight, my grandmother.”
“Watch over Morag? As in, look after her? It doesn’t make sense,” pondered Sean. Sarah shrugged, as if to say that’s what it says.
“We must all to go to Islay, then,” Elodie said quickly.
“No need. Nicholas is coming with me.”
“Can you trust him, Sarah? Can you?” he snapped.
“Can I trust you, Sean? Because you lied to me. Over and over again.” Sarah’s anger had seeped through once again.
“How many times do you want me to apologize?” yelled Sean.
“Fine. Come with me, then. But Nicholas is my boyfriend.” Sarah crossed her arms. “He’s coming too.”
“You don’t know him! I can’t let you.”
“You can’t let me? Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do? I decide, Sean.”
“No you don’t, Sarah.” Elodie’s voice had a strange note to it. Her lips were ever so slightly blue. Sean tensed. “We decide together. Harry – my husband – lost his life because of this war. He trusted us to sort this mess after he was gone. I won’t let him down.”
“Someone else to tell me what to do, Elodie Midnight?”
The two girls glared at each other, their eyes flashing.
“Sarah.” Sean reached out his hand. With Elodie’s lips darkening and Sarah’s eyes beginning to glimmer bright green, things could turn dangerous.
But Sarah blinked. “I need to go hom
e now. I promised Bryony she could come up and take some pictures in the garden tonight.” She put her jacket on and wrapped her scarf around her neck twice, the way she always did. Just seeing that familiar gesture broke Sean’s heart in two.
“Bryony? Another heir?” gasped Elodie. “Did you know about this, Sean?”
“No, no. Bryony is not from a Secret Family.”
“Your friend is not a Secret heir? How do you manage that?” asked Elodie, genuinely surprised.
“I don’t. My life is chaos, as you can see.” Sarah shrugged.
“At least Elodie and I will be around.” Sean frowned.
“No need. Nicholas will be there.”
Sean massaged his forehead. “Again! Sarah. Honestly. You have to make everything awkward! You and Bryony will be strolling around that enormous garden of yours in the middle of the night.”
“We’ll be fine. Thanks for the toast. I’m going.”
“Jesus, Sarah! Why did you come here at all if you don’t want me back in your life?” Sean looked stricken, and Sarah wavered.
“The thing is, Bryony and Nicholas never met.”
“She’s never met Nicholas? Your best friend never met your … boyfriend?” the last word was dripping with disdain.
“There’s never been an opportunity.” Sarah looked away.
A bitter sort of satisfaction filled Sean’s heart. “You avoided them coming across each other, didn’t you? You’re worried about Bryony sensing something weird about Nicholas.”
“Of course not. Why would I?”
Sean exploded. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. “Because he is weird, and you know it. And you’re weird when you’re around him. And it was all awfully fast, wasn’t it? The two of you getting together. What is he doing to you, Sarah?”
Tide (The Sarah Midnight Trilogy) Page 9
