Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1) (18 page)

“No. Come on, we need to send the Signal and then we can call it a day.”

“I’m going for a swim.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yes.”

He lives in the water
, thought Mike. But he was sleepy, and a bit drunk, and decided he’d ponder the matter tomorrow.

Broken glass in my throat

The words I can’t speak

The things you should know

Tonight I’ll dream, I can feel it
, Sarah wrote in her notebook.

“I’ll be awake, don’t worry,” Harry reassured her. He whispered goodnight, and closed the door behind him.

Sarah put the sapphire beside the diary, she arranged the duvet and the pillow, and then again, and then once more. It was past one o’clock, and she was drained, but she didn’t want to fall asleep. She was too scared of what she might dream. She felt electric, from her toes to the top of her head. When it came to her power, Sarah was like a cat; she could feel a storm coming.

She switched the light back on, and got up. For an exhausting hour and a half she straightened, sorted, arranged, lined up and organized anything she could get her hands on. When she’d finished, she was so tired she felt faint. She thought she’d lie down for a minute, and then maybe clean her bathroom again, but her eyelids were so heavy, she couldn’t help it.

Suddenly and heavy like a stone, sleep took her. She tried to resist, but it was no use. She whimpered in her sleep.

Sarah opened her eyes in the semi-darkness, and a smell of damp, mossy soil filled her nostrils. She could make out a wall of cold, grey stone. At once, she knew where she was: in the little cave under the standing stones. It was the same place she’d seen in the vision she’d had in the library.

Maybe I’ll see Leaf again
…

The thought spurred her on. Sarah remembered how to get out of that dark place. She threw herself on the floor and started crawling towards the little wedge of light. She squeezed herself through the hole, and walked out into the muted light and the wind. She looked around frantically.

Leaf, where are you?

There was nobody there. Nobody but her and the stones.

Suddenly, Sarah felt breathless. She just could not inhale; it was like one of those grey stones was weighing on her chest. Panic took hold. She fell on her knees on the wet grass, holding her throat …

She woke up with a jolt. She opened her eyes, and instead of the purple sky she saw a white, chalky face, a few inches from her own. A demon was sitting on her chest, its hands around her throat. Sarah tried to call the blackwater, but quickly realized it was no use. She was slowly suffocating: there was no way she could have focused on her power. Black spots started dancing before her eyes …

Right at that moment, Harry burst into the room.
He’s awake, like he promised
, Sarah thought confusedly.

“Sarah!” Harry’s voice seemed to come from afar. She felt as if she were floating away, leaving her body behind. The black spots were multiplying – she couldn’t see any more. A thought flashed into her mind, sudden and painful:
Is this the last night of my life? Are these my last moments?

Just when Sarah thought it was all over, the grip around her neck began to lose strength. She managed to take a quick, raspy breath, and because of that, right at the last minute, she didn’t lose consciousness. The white hands let go completely, and she started inhaling greedily, as deeply as she could, coughing and holding her chest. She got herself on her knees, and stood up shakily. Her lungs hurt with the effort.

Finally, Sarah could see what had attacked her: a hairless, naked and impossibly tall creature, with a flat face, two holes for nostrils, and a cut for a mouth. She blinked, over and over again, trying to make sense of what was before her.

Harry stood with his hands raised, holding the
sgian-dubh
. He was making small, quick movements with the blade, as if writing on air.

There are quite a few things I can do with a blade
, he had said. Now Sarah knew what he meant. At that moment Harry roared, and his movements got stronger, sharper. Stab wounds started appearing all over the demon’s body, and from the wounds black blood was spraying everywhere, on the walls, on the floor, on the mirror. Sweat was pouring from Harry’s forehead as he kept weaving his spell.

Wounded over and over again, the demon howled in anger and blindly threw itself towards the window. It hit Harry with its flailing arms, and he fell on the wooden floor, banging his head with a thud that made Sarah feel sick.

“Harry!”

The bleeding creature continued his blind run and jumped through the window, shattering the glass.

“Harry …”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding …” Sarah kneeled down and took his head in her lap. The demon’s black blood and Harry’s red were mixing on her hands, on her legs, even in her hair.

Harry closed his eyes. “Ouch …”

Sarah brushed his bloody hair away from his face. “Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“Absolutely not.”

“We can say you fell …”

“I’m a doctor, remember? My professional opinion is that we stay at home.”

He dragged himself up, helped by Sarah, and faltered to the window.

“Has it gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did the spell not work?” whispered Sarah.

“Because the demon was in the house already, I think. Hiding somewhere.”

“Hiding? How could … Oh God, Harry. I left the window open! That’s how he came in!”

“I think the spell only works if someone is trying to get into the house
after
the spell has been cast.” Harry leaned on Sarah’s desk, heavily, holding his head.

“Harry, are you OK?” Sarah slipped an arm around his waist.

“Just a bit dizzy.”

“Lie down.”

“I need some coffee.”

“You think that caffeine fixes everything!”

“It pretty much does.”

“Right, OK. Lie down and I’ll make you some coffee.”

“You can’t go downstairs by yourself; I need to come with you.”

“No, you lie down.”

“Sarah! That
thing
could be downstairs! It could be in the garden! We need to check the whole house, and then cast the spell again!”

“You’re so … argumentative!”

“
Me?
You are!”

Sarah looked at him, her eyes flashing. She was looking for a stinging answer, when she saw how pale he was.

“Let me at least clean you up a bit,” she said softly.

Sarah washed Harry’s hair as much as she could. She disinfected the wound and wanted to bandage it, but Harry was having none of it.

“I’ll look like a mummy!”

“Now is not the time to think of your looks.”

“Do you have any painkillers?”

“I’ve got codeine. My mum and dad used it a lot.”

Harry swallowed a couple of caplets, and dragged Sarah out of the bathroom. “Come on.”

“Thank you, by the way,” she muttered.

“For what?”

“Saving my life. Again.”

“Oh yes, that. You’re welcome …
by the way
.”

Had she not been so freaked out, she would have smiled.

“That thing you did with the dagger … it was incredible.”

“It’s a skill. It can be taught.”
Harry taught me
.

“Can you teach me?”

“Of course. I’ll teach you all I know.”

“To send people to sleep as well?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“In case you use it on me, of course.”

This time, she
had
to smile.

They did their caffeine stop. Harry downed a double espresso in one gulp.

“All better. Let’s go.”

Coffee as a cure for a concussion. And he has a degree in Medicine!

They checked the whole house all over again, Harry with the
sgian-dubh
ready, Sarah with her hands burning. There was some black blood on the gravel, and it led to the gate. It looked like the creature had gone.

“I wonder whose demon it was,” said Sarah, thinking of the list of names.

“We’ll find out soon enough. It was another Feral. Do you know what they are?”

“No.”

Have they not taught her anything?

“Slaves, Ferals and Sentients. The Slaves are ferocious, but mainly stupid. The Ferals are somewhere in between beasts and thinking creatures. The Sentients … Those are the ones we need to fear the most.”

“Have you ever met one?”

“Many times. Hopefully you never will,” he whispered. But he knew it was a vain hope.

Sarah washed the sapphires in water and salt, as her mother’s diary said to do when using something for more than one spell, then she went through the motions again.

Now she couldn’t speak any more. She was back in her silent little bubble.

Her room was a disaster. There was blood everywhere, both Harry’s and the creature’s. It was freezing, because the glass had been shattered and the cold night air had filled the room.

“I’ll help you clean up,” Harry offered and Sarah nodded thankfully.

Harry boarded up the window with some wood he found in the garage, and Sarah scrubbed and cleaned in silence until all the blood was washed away. She looked at the window, sadly.
It looks as if we are under siege. It’s awful.

She grabbed her notebook, and scribbled in it.

        
When we were attacked I was dreaming.

“What did you see?”

        
Nothing yet. It was just starting.

“Call if you need me. And don’t dare clean or tidy any more, OK? You need some rest. I’m going to have a shower.”

Sarah nodded again.

But she couldn’t stop herself. She’d been so scared, she felt so violated by the attack in her room, that she had to keep scrubbing and disinfecting until her hands bled. Because of her boarded-up window, she couldn’t even see that dawn had broken. She fell asleep on the floor.

She woke up with a jolt, three hours later. Her whole body was sore, and her head was exploding. She tried to get up and get ready, but she felt so dizzy that she had to lie back down. Her hands were agony: she looked at them and winced. They were raw and bleeding. Sarah was horrified, but felt too ill to do something about it. She checked her forehead; it was boiling.

Shadow had come back from the hunt while Sarah was still cleaning. The smell of bleach hurt her little pink nose, but she had stayed, out of loyalty, and had slept on the floor beside Sarah. She now jumped on the bed, and stretched herself.

Sarah moaned. She dragged herself to the bathroom, and managed to find some paracetamol. She took two, trying to drink a bit, but her throat was swollen and painful. She climbed into bed, praying a vision wouldn’t come, and fell into a light, fretful sleep.

After about an hour, Harry knocked at the door.

“Sarah, are you OK? It’s nearly half seven.”

Sarah woke up at once. She couldn’t speak because of the spell, and her throat was so sore it would have been agony anyway. She got up slowly, painfully, and opened the door. One look at her, and Harry realized there was something wrong. Her green eyes were unnaturally bright, she was white as a sheet, and her cheeks and lips were ruby red.

“Oh, Sarah … Come on, lie down.” He checked her forehead. His hand was so cool against her hot skin. “You’re burning up. Have you taken anything?”

Sarah nodded. It hurt terribly to move her neck. She raised a hand towards Harry’s forehead, and touched his hair lightly, asking a question with her eyes.

“I’m fine, it was just a bruise …” He gasped, noticing her hands. “Sarah! What have you done?”

Sarah looked away.

“My God, Sarah. What are you doing to yourself?”

Harry disappeared into the bathroom, pottered about, and emerged with the first pot of cream he could find. He sat beside her on the bed and opened it. He scooped some sweetsmelling cream out, covered her hands in it, and rubbed it in. The relief was incredible. Sarah closed her eyes, letting Harry massage her hands softly. It was such relief, such comfort, she wished he’d never stop.

“Sarah, your poor hands … I’m going to phone the school to say you’re not coming in today. I’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, Harry returned with a cup of coffee.

Of course. That’ll fix me. Harry’s panacea for all ailments
, she thought with tenderness.

“Nothing?” he asked, gesturing to the sapphire on Sarah’s bedside table.

Sarah shook her head, slowly. She closed her eyes. There wasn’t a bit of her that didn’t hurt.

“Where’s your mobile?”