Betrayal

by Gillian Shields

  “Are you all right, Evie?” Sarah asked. “You’ve been so quiet all day, and you look so pale.”

  “It’s nothing, honestly.” I made a huge effort to be positive. Nothing would happen. Josh was perfectly capable of seeing that I didn’t come to harm trotting around a practice field. And there was Sarah, dear Sarah, looking so concerned and trying to help. I didn’t want her to be worried. “Sorry, Sarah, I’m just so tired, that’s all. I’d better go and find Josh. See you after my lesson.”

  A few minutes later, I led Bonny out to the paddock.

  “Evie!” Someone was calling me. It was Harriet, wrapped in a heavy coat and scarf, her long, thin nose showing red in the wind. “Can I watch, Evie? Can I watch your lesson?”

  My head had started to ache again. I didn’t want her there, watching me. Even the windows of the gray school building seemed to glare down like hostile eyes. “No, Harriet, not today. You don’t want to stand around in this wind. Go inside.”

  “I’m not cold, honestly. Please let me stay, Evie.”

  It was too much of an effort to argue. Let her watch if she wanted; what did it matter? Perhaps if I ignored her she would lose interest and go away. I mounted and began to walk Bonny slowly around the ring that was marked out on the ground.

  “That’s better,” said a cheerful, warm voice behind me. “You’re improving already.”

  Josh. I made myself smile at him and he smiled back. There was a light in his eyes like a tiny flame….

  He made me work hard, and by the time the class was over I was exhausted. All the new muscles I was discovering were screaming at me to stop. As I slithered from Bonny’s back, my knees seemed to give way. I staggered slightly, and in an instant Josh was by my side to support me, his arm around my waist.

  “Evie, what’s the matter?”

  “My legs felt kind of funny,” I said. He still held on to me, and I was aware of his body close to mine and the eager look in his eyes. Embarrassed, I wriggled out of his arms and tried to laugh. “I’m obviously not in good enough shape for this riding business.”

  “What’s really wrong, Evie?” Josh asked, with a look of puzzled concern. “I can’t help feeling that you’re…well, worried about something.”

  I felt Harriet watching me from the other side of the field. She was still there, like a little old woman wrapped up in a bundle of ill-fitting clothes. Rooks were settling in the ancient trees of the grounds, their cries shrill and urgent in the dusk. The short winter day was already dying. For a fleeting second I wished I could talk to Josh. He seemed so…well, ordinary, so far away from the world I now inhabited. But there was no sense in that. I couldn’t go around unburdening myself on him just because he was warm and kind. I didn’t need a crutch to lean on. I could cope.

  “It’s such a gloomy afternoon, that’s all,” I said. “And listen to the wind howling! It’s been giving me the creeps all day.”

  Josh looked at me searchingly. “I’ll take care of Bonny for you,” he said, taking her bridle from me. “Go and get some rest. And Evie…” He began to say something, then seemed to change his mind, busying himself with the pony. “I hope you feel better. Same time next week?”

  “Yeah.”

  I walked slowly back to the stables. The wind was tearing around the shadowy buildings of the Abbey. It seemed to push me here and there as though I were no heavier than a dead leaf, with no will left of my own. I drifted away from the stable yard and over to the terrace. I hovered there for a moment, looking across the wintry lawns that led down to the lake.

  The lake. Deep, deep water. Black depths of water. So cool, so heavy, so still and inviting. It was calling me…. I had to get closer. I began to stumble across the lawns, but something was wrong. Everything was slowing down, fading into black…. I was ice-cold….

  Evie…Evie…where are you?

  It was Sebastian, I was sure of it, calling me from the ruins.

  He was there.

  He was looking for me.

  He had come back at last.

  Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. Energy blazed through me and I ran heedlessly, slipping on the icy paths, calling under my breath, “I’m here; I’m coming; wait for me, Sebastian….” I dashed under the black arches of the ruined chapel, then came skidding to a halt. Six women, cloaked and hooded, were grouped by the mound where the altar had once stood. The next moment I was surrounded and their hands stretched out graspingly. One of them spoke in a muffled, eerie voice: “Ah, so good of you to answer our call—”

  “No!” A great cry tore the air and a wall of light sprang up between me and the women like a shield. As I fell to the ground, everything whirled around me and I saw them turn and retreat, their black cloaks flapping in the wind. Then the light seemed to change and the heavy scent of candles filled my mind like drowsy incense. Soft voices were chanting, as sad and profound as the song of the sea. I was still in the chapel, but the roof was no longer the inky sky. Carved and gilded beams soared over me, and the stained-glass window behind the altar glowed with a hundred jeweled colors. Rows of women in white habits, holy sisters, were singing in the candlelight, their faces lifted in solemn ecstasy. One of them turned her face to me, and I knew her eyes….

  The candles blew out. The music stopped abruptly. The chapel was a ruined, meaningless shell once more, with the stars gleaming in the sky above my head. The menacing women in their dark cloaks had gone, and so had the ranks of chanting nuns. I had the sense that a long time had passed.

  “Evie…Evie…”

  The voice came again, but it wasn’t Sebastian. A moment later Sarah ran up to me, out of breath and looking worried. “Evie, are you all right?” she said. “Josh said you finished your lesson hours ago. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  I quickly told her everything that I had seen.

  “So the Dark Sisters were here?” she said, horrified.

  “And some other women, from long ago, but I thought I knew one of them. And, oh, Sarah, I’m sure Sebastian was here too! Do you…Can you sense anything?”

  “I don’t know—the atmosphere is confused. There’s the scent of danger…and fear…and hope.”

  “He was here, I swear. I heard his voice!”

  “That could have been a trap by the coven, some kind of setup to lure you down here on your own,” Sarah said doubtfully. “Evie, I really don’t think you should go out by yourself after sunset, not even on the grounds like this. And I think we should get back inside. You’ve been out here for hours; you missed dinner. You look so pale.”

  I glanced around one last time at the broken pillars and tumbled walls of the ancient church, reluctant to leave somehow. Had I really been here for so long? It had seemed like only a few moments, and yet perhaps I had wandered into some other time and lingered there without knowing it. I couldn’t shake the faces of the women singing in the chapel from my mind. Had they really been the holy nuns from the ancient days? Where had the other hooded women vanished to? And was it Sebastian’s voice I had heard calling me, or had it all been some cruel trick?

  “Evie, come on. It’s freezing out here. You’re shaking.” Sarah tugged at my arm and I followed her back to the school, my mind racing. We went in through a side door and made our way to the marble staircase in the entrance hall. A few students were lingering there by the fire that was burning as usual in the stone hearth. My teeth were chattering and I felt sick.

  “Stand here for a while and get warm,” Sarah said anxiously, leading me to a place in front of the fire. The flames danced and fought, red and purple and gold. As I stretched out my hands to them, a scream shattered the evening gloom. The heavy front door swung open and a plump twelve-year-old with a rosy face dashed into the hall. She was crying uncontrollably.

  “I saw him, I saw him,” she moaned, weeping and clinging to the girls nearest to her. Miss Scratton glided out of the shadows.

  “What’s going on? Constance, whom did you see?”

  But the g
irl could only cry and hide her face in her hands.

  Miss Scratton made her look up and said, “Now tell me what happened. It’s all right. I am here. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “It was h-horrible,” the red-faced girl stammered, hic-cupping and gasping for breath. “I was up by the gates with my camera, because Emma Duncan told me that she’d seen a b-barn owl flying in the lane a few nights ago—you know, the ones with the white faces that come out at sunset—and I wanted to try to get a photo and…and—” She broke off, crying again.

  “Go on,” said Miss Scratton. “What happened next?”

  “I heard this noise, like a groan, like someone in pain. It was coming from the other side of the gates, so I looked and I saw…I saw something white and I thought perhaps it was the owl, but it wasn’t. It was this man in a long black coat and his face was all white and scary and I think he was dying.” She burst into incoherent sobs.

  “It was very silly to wander about at the far side of the grounds in the dark, Constance; no wonder you gave yourself a fright. It was probably one of the farm workers walking home. You must have scared him to death too. Now come with me,” Miss Scratton said briskly. “We’ll get you some hot cocoa and forget all about it.” She swept Constance and the other girls out of the hall, but as she did so she glanced over to where I was standing, and her sharp black eyes seemed to hold a message for me.

  Sebastian. It must have been Sebastian. My heart surged. He had been out there, looking for me. If only I had known, if only he had waited by the lake—then the girl’s words hit me. I think he was dying. In a flash I saw Sebastian’s chalk-white face, his bloodshot eyes; I heard his labored breath. But he wasn’t dying; he couldn’t die….

  I knew what it meant, though. Sebastian must be reaching the last stages of fading. There was only a fine veil hanging between him and his dreadful fate. He would soon leave this earth for his everlasting imprisonment in the Shadows. Time was running out. Sebastian was getting weaker and weaker; he could hardly breathe. I could hardly breathe…. I was so weak…everything was fading away.

  The checkerboard tiles swam in front of my eyes, my legs trembled, and I fell into utter blackness, as dark and close as a tomb.

  Twenty-one

  FROM THE PRIVATE PAPERS OF SEBASTIAN JAMES FAIRFAX

  I am back here, in my living tomb.

  My strength fades—but I have to tell you—

  I did try to find you; believe me, my darling love—you must believe me.

  I tried to see you, Evie—I tried so hard.

  My vision of you had made me stronger. I thought I would be able to reach you. I believed that if I could only reach you, I would be healed. And so I strained my will to make my journey.

  For one brief hour I felt the wind upon my face again; I watched the sun sink into the winter sky, and the first stars flicker overhead. I breathed the damp, cool air of the lake where once we swam together, our bodies reaching out for each other. Under the arches of the old ruins, I waited for you as the day died and the night deepened. I closed my eyes and sank to the ground, exhausted by my journey, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, thinking only of you.

  Evie, I called to you and you came! But everything turned to ashes and I saw that I had led you into a trap. Some of my former servants were waiting for you, ready to gloat over their innocent prey. I called to warn you and used the dregs of my powers to shield you, and they scattered like ants stirred by a stick.

  I saw you. I was there, I tried—I tried—

  Then something happened that I had not expected: a swell of holy song, glowing colors and lights, and a vision of high, rare power. It all seemed to come from you, I could have sworn, and yet you were somehow apart, and beyond any help I could give you. I could not stay in that bright company—I had to flee.

  Someone saw me, a young girl. She shrank from me, as though I were a monster. And so, like a monster, I have retreated into my darkness.

  Forgive me, Evie. I tried to find you and I failed. Oh, God, will I never stop failing?

  It is because of me that Agnes died. It is because of me that the first women of the coven left their simple homes to pursue my corrupt ambitions. It is because of me that they are Dark Sisters. It is because of me that you are in danger. And now, when there is only a fine veil hanging between me and my fate, is it too late for me to redeem myself? Is there not one single act of good that I could be remembered by when I am gone? Will I never be healed?

  Perhaps it is too late.

  Perhaps that is my truth now.

  I am so sorry, Evie. Forgive me. I am sorry for everything—except for loving you.

  Twenty-two

  I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry.” I lifted my head groggily and opened my eyes. The face of the school nurse swam into focus. Sarah was hovering next to her anxiously.

  “Are you okay, Evie?” Sarah asked. “What happened?”

  “My head…I must have fainted. Stupid of me.”

  “You’re prone to this, aren’t you?” the nurse asked briskly. “This is what comes of riding in the freezing cold and getting exhausted and then baking yourself next to the fire.” She sounded severe, but she fussed over me kindly. Brushing aside her suggestion that I should spend the night in the infirmary, I pleaded with her to ignore what had happened. “I’m not ill,” I swore. “It was like you said: The fire was so hot, and it was really stuffy after being outside. It’s nothing serious.”

  Eventually she took me up to my dorm, making me promise to let her know if I got dizzy again. Sarah reluctantly left me at the door of the dormitory and went to look for Helen to tell her what had happened, while the nurse made sure I was tucked up in bed. As soon as she had gone, Celeste, who was lounging on the window seat painting her toenails, sneered, “Quite the little heroine with these fainting fits, aren’t you, Johnson?”

  “It’s just a sad attempt to make herself interesting,” added India.

  “Absolutely pathetic.”

  It wasn’t worth rising to the bait and arguing with them. I drew the drapes around my bed, though I was sure I wouldn’t be able to rest. But the nurse had been right when she had said I was exhausted, as a few moments later I felt my eyes droop and I fell into an uneasy sleep.

  I didn’t dream.

  The next thing I knew was that I could hear someone pacing softly across the floor of the dorm. I sat upright and listened. Perhaps it was Helen. Cautiously, I pushed aside the drape and peered into the dimly lit room.

  I had to force myself not to cry out. It had happened again. I was seeing into a different Wyldcliffe, not the distant time of the old nunnery, but the rich, splendid heyday of the nineteenth century, when the Abbey had been Agnes’s beloved home. I was in the same room with the arched windows and the cushioned seat below them. But the walls were no longer bare and white, and I could no longer see the beds of my dorm mates. Through a kind of mist, I could see richly colored wallpaper and carpets, velvet curtains and hangings, a heaped silken bed, carved furniture, and glowing candlelight. It was Agnes’s bedroom, and she was there in front of me, pacing up and down.

  Agnes seemed to turn and see me, though I couldn’t be sure. Then she threw a shawl across her shoulders, opened the door, and went out of the room. Without stopping to think I got out of bed. My feet felt the usual scuffed linoleum on the floor, though my eyes saw the richly woven carpet. I was somehow hovering between two worlds. I followed Agnes into the corridor and she led me to the top of the marble stairs. The landing was decorated with a profusion of pictures and mirrors and exotic ferns in ornate pots, but the white marble stairs were exactly the same as I had known them.

  Slowly, as though hypnotized, I followed Agnes down the stairs, unable to speak. But with each step I took, her outline became fainter, and soon I could no longer see her.

  “Wait, Agnes, wait!” My voice came back to me, but the hangings and pictures vanished, and I was left with only the bare white steps, leading me down and down and down….


  Lying across the bottom step, like a broken doll, was a young girl. It wasn’t Agnes. I was firmly back in my own time, and the girl lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs was Harriet Templeton.

  I was allowed to go and see her in the infirmary a couple of days later.

  “She’s very lucky to have gotten nothing worse than a broken wrist and a concussion after that dreadful fall,” the nurse scolded. “Why didn’t you tell us you were prone to sleepwalking, Harriet?”

  “I…um…I didn’t think it was important,” she muttered.

  “With all these stairs and twists and turns in this old building? You need to be much more careful. Anyway,” she went on, softening slightly, “here’s your friend to keep you company for a bit, so don’t look so miserable. It’s a good thing that Evie heard you in the night and came to fetch me. And there was Evie dropping down in a dead faint herself the other day. What a pair you are!”

  “I’m absolutely fine now, I promise,” I said.

  “But you can only stay ten minutes at the most. We don’t want Harriet to get too tired.” The nurse bustled out, leaving us alone.

  “So how is your wrist, Harriet?”

  “It’s nothing. It’s my head that hurts.”

  We looked at each other rather awkwardly. I couldn’t help feeling guilty that I hadn’t made Harriet go to the nurse when I first found out about her sleepwalking, and yet somehow I was angry with her. In a weird way I felt we were now tied together by this secret. But I didn’t want to get closer to Harriet. I didn’t want the school staff thinking that we were special friends.

  “Thanks so much for finding me and getting the nurse when I…um…fell down,” Harriet said, blushing with embarrassment.