And then it happened: a scream tore through the still night air. “Look! Look over there!” Panic spread through the girls. “It’s over there!” Fingers were pointing and eyes were raised to the jagged arch where the east window had once stood. A figure in a white gown was looming there, its face covered by a long, streaming veil. It suddenly swooped down over the terrified girls, and the screaming grew like a storm. “It’s her! It’s Lady Agnes!” There was a confused stampede as they ran, knocking down the candles and crushing the flowers.
“Girls, stop this at once!” Miss Scratton shouted desperately, but no one was listening. Everyone around me was running, but I was still, as still as the High Mistress, who stood like a carved statue under the archway, her dark eyes watching me in triumph.
Later, when we were all safely back inside, I was made to stand in front of everyone as Mrs. Hartle held up the bundle of sheets and nightgowns that had been rigged up to scare a bunch of schoolgirls.
“Evelyn Johnson,” she said coldly. “Your name is clearly marked on these items. Your actions tonight show not only a deplorable lack of consideration for others and a blatant disregard for our Wyldcliffe traditions, but a considerable degree of stupidity. How did you think you would get away with this senseless prank?”
I stared at the floor and didn’t reply. It was easy to guess that Celeste had organized the whole thing. She had used my stuff to fix up the scarecrow version of Agnes that had been enough to terrify the younger girls and ruin the procession. She had done it, but I knew that I would be blamed. Celeste would get away with it, but I wouldn’t. Even before Mrs. Hartle spoke next, I knew what was coming.
“Your record at this school has been most disappointing. You have already acquired two demerit cards this term. This will be your third. Your behavior is a disgrace. The governors may wish to review your position at the school. In the meantime you will report to me for your detention and punishment.”
You mustn’t get another demerit, Evie. With a sick lurch in my stomach I remembered what Miss Scratton had said. Had she known something? I glanced up at the rows of curious eyes, staring at me as pitilessly as on the night I had arrived at Wyldcliffe. Helen saw me and turned away, but Sarah looked back, close to tears. I couldn’t see Miss Scratton anywhere.
“That will be all. Girls, I apologize that tonight’s celebration has been spoiled by one unworthy member of our community. You will all go straight to bed. Evie, you will come with me.”
I followed her in silence. It seemed that everything had been leading to this moment. I was in the hands of the High Mistress, and I was totally alone.
Forty-eight
T
his is the moment.
I am in Mrs. Hartle’s study. It reminds me of my first day at Wyldcliffe, all those months ago. But I have changed. I’m no longer the same person, though Mrs. Hartle is just as secretive and deadly as when we first met. I am afraid. Now, like Helen, I am afraid of the High Mistress. She prowls around the room, picking things up, glancing though books, ignoring me, making me wait.
Finally she stands tall and dark in front of me and speaks.
“I know all about you, Evie. I know who you are. The first time we met, I admit you startled me with your resemblance to the portrait of the one we call the traitor.” Her eyes dart over to a corner of the room. A painting that I hadn’t noticed before is hanging against the paneling, and I recognize the girl with the long red hair….
“Don’t call her that! Agnes was true to the Mystic Way. It’s you who have twisted it into something vile.”
“Agnes was a fool,” Mrs. Hartle states calmly. “She should not have entrusted her powers to a mere girl who knows nothing of our deep arts. But we will soon relieve you of that burden. Give me the Talisman.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t really imagine that you can hide it from me any longer?” she sneers. “My poor crazed daughter has already given your secret away. Oh, not on purpose, but you were like children playing with matches when you tried to master the Rites. I soon became alerted to your feeble attempts to summon the Powers. The High Mistress sees more than you know. Your pathetic experiments led me straight to you. And now I have found what I have long been searching for.”
“But the Talisman is no good to you,” I hazard. “Only I can use it.”
“You! Don’t fool yourself. You have no powers. You didn’t try hard enough, did you, Evie? And now you will be destroyed by your precious Sebastian.” There is scorn in her voice when she says his name. It fills me with anger.
“He won’t hurt me on your orders. He is your master, not your servant.”
Her face flushes darkly. “Our so-called Master has betrayed us. He has refused our aid and is fading rapidly. But we will not allow that to happen. He promised us immortality, and he must be made to keep his promise. Now that he is weak and we are strong, we will take the Talisman to him and force him to wield it.”
She holds out her hand. “Give it to me now,” she commands. “I want it.”
Something clicks in my brain. Sebastian has refused her help. That means he has decided to fade rather than hurt me. He doesn’t want me to die. He’s not my enemy after all; he never will be. My fear vanishes like a dream. I feel strong, stronger than she could ever be. I know what I must do.
I untie the ribbon around my neck. The necklace gleams innocently, a pretty trinket; that’s all. I drop it into Mrs. Hartle’s outstretched hand.
A crack of blue fire lights up the room. She staggers back, then slumps over her desk. I snatch the Talisman from where it has fallen. The High Mistress has been stunned, knocked out, but only for a moment. I have to get away before she comes to. I have to get the Talisman somewhere safe.
I run to the door and fling it open. Two women in dark robes and masks are standing guard. They lunge forward to catch me. I slam the door shut and lock it with shaking hands. I am trapped. Mrs. Hartle groans and stirs. In desperation I rush to the window. It is small and high and barred. I beat against the glass, but there is no escape. “Please help, please, Agnes,” I sob. I’m standing next to her portrait. Her gray eyes are looking into mine. I reach up and touch the painting, and the piece of paneled wall it hangs on swings open like a door.
I see a rough passageway that slopes downward and disappears from sight. I remember Helen saying something about a maze of tunnels under the Abbey. Perhaps this will lead me out of here, but it’s so dark, so narrow. The women outside are battering the door; the High Mistress slowly raises her head. I have to get away. Without stopping to think, I step into the passage and close the secret door behind me with a loud click. I am locked in.
I stagger along blindly, feeling my way by brushing my hands against the cold, damp walls. It is dark, so dark that I can taste it in my throat. Every faltering step takes me deeper underground. You can do it Evie; keep going, one step at a time. I can hear voices; there’s someone behind me, the faint swish of skirts. Keep going. But I am imprisoned by the weight of the earth around me and the blackness behind my eyes. I can’t breathe; I am suffocating in a tomb, waiting to die.
And then I hear the memory of a voice, high and clear like a girl’s, warm and gentle as a mother’s:
The night is dark, but day is near,
Hush, little baby, do not fear….
A faint silvery light begins to gleam. I realize it is coming from the Talisman. I cradle it in my hand, and it glows like a star.
I am no longer alone. Agnes is with me. I will find a way out of here. Somehow I will make it through this night.
I have been wandering a long time in this maze, twisting and turning in endless passageways, going in circles, meeting abrupt dead ends. But now I seem to have arrived somewhere. This place feels bigger, like a wide cavern. My footsteps echo here. I know, without understanding how, that I am underneath the ruined chapel, and that somewhere above me the stars are shining.
I freeze. Sounds echo ahead. Someone else’s footstep. Th
en a quick, fresh breeze blows through the underground cavern, and there is the scent of harebells….
“Helen! Helen, are you there?”
A flashlight dazzles my eyes, and then I am overwhelmed by the living warmth of Sarah and Helen hugging me and laughing and crying all at once.
“How did you find me?”
“I thought my mother might take you down here,” replies Helen. “It’s where she brought Laura. How did you get away from her?”
“She tried to take the Talisman, but she couldn’t. She’ll come after it again, though, and I don’t know if I can hold her off this time.”
“She’ll summon the coven to help her,” Helen says anxiously. “We mustn’t get caught down here.”
“I can lead us out,” says Sarah. “We came down the tunnel from the grotto, Evie. Let’s go back that way.”
Sarah sweeps the flashlight around, and I see that we are in a low, wide crypt with a vaulted ceiling. It is the meeting place of many passageways. At the far end there is a rough kind of stone table, like an altar. A low passage leads off from behind the table, and we run down it, but we soon hear the shuffle of many feet ahead of us, and chanting, like the growl of thunder.
“Go back!” whispers Sarah. “We’ll have to find another way out. The coven is gathering. They’re coming!”
We go back the way we came, but a crowd of robed and hooded women is already filling the crypt, pouring in from every side. They have no individual personalities, no distinction, only a terrible, anonymous presence. Their chanting is building to a crescendo. Some of them hold flickering torches. They see us by the light of the red flames, and they scream out wildly, encircling us, hungry for the Talisman. There are too many of them. We are trapped and helpless.
A tall figure robed in black enters, and the Dark Sisters part to let their High Mistress approach. She is holding the silver dagger. Everyone falls silent.
“I said that you would give me the Talisman,” she says. “And you will. There is someone here that you cannot refuse. Bring him in!”
The women shudder and sigh as a hunched shape is carried in on a carved chair.
“Sebastian?” I whisper. There is no reply. All I hear is the hideous moaning of the coven.
“Sebastian, Lord Sebastian!” they screech. “This is the moment! Fulfill your vow!”
The slumped shape in the carved chair moves and raises its hand. The women fall silent, their breath rattling like dry leaves before a storm. I must have gotten it all wrong, so utterly wrong. Sebastian has decided to work with his Sisters after all. He is here to claim his prize. It is the Talisman that he wants, not me.
He gets up and walks toward me, halting and slow. His eyes are sunk and red, his breathing labored. He is fading. It is happening, just as he said. There is no escape, not for any of us. I can’t bear to see Sebastian’s haggard face. I can’t bear to see him wrench the Talisman from me. I can’t bear to feel him tear my heart out for it. This is the end, at last. I close my eyes.
He reaches out to me, and I steel myself for his attack, but all he does is touch a strand of my hair. “I love you, girl from the sea,” he whispers. Then he turns to the waiting women and shouts with his last strength, “Stay away! If you harm her you’ll be destroyed.”
The High Mistress screams, “Don’t listen to him. Take them both!”
They pour forward like a dark wave, and someone speaks to me in a voice as clear as the dawn: An heirloom of our house, may it never fall into darkness. You can do it, Evie. You can do anything, my sister.
I know what I have to do. Sebastian has collapsed to the ground. Quicker than lightning, I stoop and draw a Circle around us both with my fingertips, seeing it bright and clear in my mind. Tiny white flames burst into life and run along the edge of the circle. I place my hand over the Talisman hanging from my neck and call to it with the deepest secrets of my mind. I think, I feel, I desire…. Dazzling white light suddenly fills the crypt and knocks back the High Mistress and her followers.
“I command you…” she screams, but I laugh at her. I will not live by her rules. I see Helen and Sarah in the confusion and grasp their hands to pull them inside the Circle. My mind empties itself of everything. I begin to chant: “The air of our breath, the water of our veins, the earth of our bodies, and the fire of our desires, come to us now.”
Sarah and Helen join in: “The water of our veins…the fire of our desires…” We are holding hands, but someone is missing, the fourth quarter of the Circle. Then I open my eyes and she is there: Agnes, dressed in white, smiling at me.
I stop fighting my fate. I think, I desire, I feel…. Oh, yes, I feel and I’m not frightened of it anymore. I love, and I don’t regret it. Love is the only thing that matters now: my love for Sebastian, and my no less precious love for Sarah and Helen. And finally I turn to Agnes, my ancestor, my friend, my Mystic Sister….
I reach out for her. She takes my hand and we are complete. Helen raises her arms to where the unseen sky glimmers far above us, and Sarah kneels and presses her hands to the ground. But Agnes and I remain standing, with Sebastian lying at our feet. His lips are parched. He groans, “Water…”
Water. Of course. The water of life.
Everything around me fades like a mist. I see myself walking over the moors. Sebastian is with me. My sisters are with me, Helen and Sarah and Agnes…. I am climbing higher, walking over the strong green earth. My mother is there. My darling Evie, she calls me. I am swept along by a great tide of love. Frankie is there. There are worse things than death. She smiles. Good-bye, my lamb. Then they all vanish, and I am climbing alone, high up to the top of the ancient mound, where the fort once stood, a tower of earth under the stars. I look below and see every stream, every trickle of water in the dark valley. I see the lake; I see the ocean, black on the horizon. Now, at last, I know myself. This is the moment, and the power to be myself is within me. The stars have fled, the night is over, and when I lift my hand the water obeys me and rises up in one mighty wave.
I open my eyes. Down in the crypt there is a great rumbling and shaking. For the first time I see fear in the High Mistress’s face as her followers turn in panic to desert her. The ground cracks, the walls break, the wind blasts through the darkness, and then the water comes. It cannot enter our Circle, but rushes through the rest of the crypt like a boiling sea. And it seems to me that our enemies are swept to one side like tiny pebbles on the shore.
Forty-nine
T
he sudden flood in the old cellars under the ruins could be explained: a freak accident that had channeled water from the lake down through one of the many sluices and tunnels that had been built in the old days. An accident, nothing more. Any other explanation would be impossible, of course.
We kept our knowledge to ourselves. We had escaped from the torrent by getting out through the tunnel to the old grotto. I left Sebastian there, curled in his coat under the statue of Pan. I wet his lips from the spring, kissed his hands, and promised to return. But when I went back the next day he had gone. Helen and Sarah kept me company as we searched as much of the underground maze as we could, but we found no trace of him. There was no sign of the coven either. The water had drained away, leaving a rank smell of mud and slime, and I half dreaded coming across the drowned bodies of nameless women, their robes twisted and their eyes blank and empty. But there was nothing. They had escaped.
It seemed that no one was hurt, but something had changed. The day after the flood we felt a strange sense of relief. I knew that I should be apprehensive that the High Mistress could strike again, but the day passed quietly, like some sort of waiting place between one battle and the next. And then, as we stood for prayers after supper, Miss Scratton made the announcement.
“It is my painful duty to inform you girls that Mrs. Hartle has been reported missing to the police. She has not been seen since the end of the procession last night. While we are not sure of her whereabouts, I wish to reassure you that the authorities do not
believe that she is dead. Let us pray that our High Mistress will be with us once again very soon.”
It caused a sensation. Something to gossip and wonder over. Something that had never happened before in the whole history of Wyldcliffe. For us it was different. Helen broke down into silent, painful tears at the news, though no one took any notice. It was just crazy Helen Black…. Only we knew why she wept, torn between love and hate.
Miss Scratton’s announcement wasn’t the only piece of news. Later in the evening a telephone call came from the nursing home to say that Frankie had passed away. At dawn, they said. Just as the day was breaking. Very peaceful, they said. I didn’t cry. I felt for the silver necklace under my shirt and said, “I’m glad I said good-bye to her.” The kind school nurse who gave me the message looked at me strangely, murmuring that it must be such a shock….
We all must die. I believe Frankie knew that I wasn’t alone anymore and that she could let me go. I didn’t cry. God does not take away life…. Good-bye, my darling.
Good-bye.
The next few days passed incredibly slowly. I spent the time with Helen and Sarah, wondering what would happen next. Had we really destroyed the High Mistress? Or was she out there somewhere, biding her time and gathering her forces for the next attack?
As the whole school waited for news, it was Miss Scratton who took charge. She organized everything, protecting the students from the intrusion of the press and the questions of the police. She went from class to class making sure that everything still ran like clockwork and that Wyldcliffe would survive. If I hadn’t remembered the masked faces I had seen down in the crypt, if I hadn’t known not to trust any woman under the Abbey’s roof, I would have drawn comfort from her calm presence.
We had won the first battle. I knew, however, that if Celia Hartle was really missing, or even dead, another High Mistress would soon emerge from the shadows to lead the coven. Like a starving dog hunting for a scrap of food, they wouldn’t give up their quest for the Talisman. We had stopped them once, but while it hung around my neck I was in danger, as long as Sebastian was still out there to give them the faintest scent of hope.
Immortal Page 21
