Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1) (34 page)

The demon reached out, its black hands as hollow, as empty as darkness itself.

Her hands were still cold – she lifted them in front of her face, in absolute, all-consuming terror.

The blackwater was failing her.

The demon crouched in front of Sarah. They mirrored each other, as if it had been Sarah’s real shadow. Two beings, one with a body, one without, locked in an endless moment.

All of a sudden, the shadow turned around in a jerky, sudden movement, as if it had felt something. Sarah looked up, and there was Harry, sweat pouring down his face, his hands weaving the invisible runes in the air, the blade and Harry’s fingers moving so quick it was impossible to follow. He was panting with the effort.

The shadow shuddered and arched its back. Harry yelled in anger and pain. Sarah saw that the hand holding the blade was bright red, dripping with blood.

The demon curled onto itself, and then shook its head back and forth. Harry fell on his knees, still tracing the runes, his shoulders shaking with the effort. The shadow started blurring, slowly. The mysterious force that held it together was faltering, and the particles that made up its body were beginning to drift away from their orbits, loose and lost. From black, it started turning into grey.

Harry moaned. There was a red stain on the carpet where his hand was dripping blood.
One last effort. One last effort
, he kept telling himself, as his strength faded, his hands trembled and the symbols became less and less defined.

But he was succeeding. The demon was now a grey, shapeless cloud. Just as Harry couldn’t take any more, the shadow lingered for a long, painful moment, and then it was gone.

Harry let the
sgian-dubh
fall on the floor and leaned on his arms, on all fours, panting. His heart was beating so hard he thought Sarah could hear it.

He faltered towards Sarah, and he let himself fall beside her. He held her tight, too tight – as if the abyss were still there, and he had to stop her from falling.

“You’re hurting me,” she murmured.

He didn’t let go.

I can’t speak to you

Not even in my dreams

Stay with me – I call

To nobody

Grand Isle, Louisiana

“Sean?”

“Niall.” Sean’s voice filled the little shack. The door was open, letting in the night and the sound of the waves.

“I had a dream.”

“Oh, no.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Now, it could be about something happening back home in Donegal. I mean, this is the way they’re supposed to be. But I didn’t recognize the place … it was on a football pitch. And the heron was in it.”

“The heron?”

“Yes. And it was bad. She wasn’t … herself. She
looked
like herself, but she wasn’t. There was a demon inside her.”

“A football pitch, you said?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Niall.”

“Sean. I’m tired of hiding. We’ve got to do something. We can’t hide forever.”

“I know. I know.” His voice sounded exhausted.

“Sean?” Mike called.

“Yes.”

“Ignore him. He’s just fed up with eating shellfish every night. We’ll stay here as long as it takes.”

“No, he’s right, Mike. We can’t hide forever. They’ll find us anyway, wherever we are.”

“Sooner or later they’ll make a mistake. We’ll figure out who—”

“Stop. Don’t say anything,” Niall intervened.

“No. No, you’re right.”

“I’m going to go now. Take care. I mean it.”

“And you, Sean.”

They both looked at the computer, bright in the semi-darkness of the shack. On the screen, the website of Trinity Academy – a photo of the school orchestra, three rows of boys and girls in their uniform, smiling at the camera. They had zoomed in on a girl sitting at her cello, long black hair cascading over her shoulders, a shy, melancholic look in her eyes.

The heron.

The day he went

Was the day I could not go back.

I thought it’d last forever

Castelmonte

Still no powers. Like I’m not myself any more. No visions, no dreams, and nothing else. Water is just water, glass is just glass, and no visions come to me when I sleep. I don’t get much sleep these days, anyway.

I mainly sit at the window and look at the mountains. At the beginning they felt like a cage, this huge barrier between me and the war I’m not allowed to fight. But I grew to love them, a constant, silent, protecting presence.

The other day we drove to Val d’Aosta. The Frisons were visiting some friends and they took me with them. We went to a little stony village that seemed to have grown out of the valley, between two enormous walls of rock at either side of it. A village that looks like a nativity scene, with a Roman bridge that crosses a white, ice-cold, glacier-born stream.

“At night you see some lights up there,” Marina said, pointing up to the top of the mountain, somewhere impossibly high. “You might think they’re stars, because you can’t see the mountains, it all looks dark like the night sky. But they’re houses. Can you imagine? Living up there?”

I pictured the lights hanging from the mountains like stars from the sky. I pictured living there, in a wooden house that gets cut off by the snow in the winter. Harry and me. And our children.

The thought cut me up like a blade right under my ribs, and I looked away. Marina read my mood. “Come on, let’s go buy some treats.”

The local bakery was a treasure trove, and we came out with our hands full of some flat, crumbly biscuits that they call
tegole
, ‘slates’, and some others shaped like little knots, sugary and buttery.
Torcetti
. The unfamiliar words rolled on my tongue and tasted as good as the biscuits, as I tried again and again to pronounce them. Marina smiled. She loves it when I try to speak her language.

We sat on the grass at the side of the stream to eat our goodies. The water ran so fast, from the glaciers to the valleys, on a bed of grey pebbles.

Marina was sitting beside me, her eyes closed against the autumn sun. A thin, chilly mountain breeze ruffled her hair. Aiko was throwing stones in the water, curling her chubby little fingers around the pebbles and giving little squirms of delight as they made an arc across the air, and a little splash in the water.

The scent of pines was sweet all around us, and the rock walls shone in the sun. They were warm to the touch, and they seemed to vibrate and hum very, very quietly – as if they were alive. It felt like they were giving out energy – like if I sat on them, I’d sort of plug myself in. Their strength seeped into me, thousands and thousands of years of being still under the sky, of watching the world changing, and never changing themselves.

These stones had seen the Time of Demons.

These stones might witness it coming again.

My heart grew cold at the sudden fear, and the pleasure of the moment was lost for me. I hugged my knees and rested my chin on them, deep in dark thoughts.

“Elodie?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry.” Marina put her hand across my shoulders, and her kindness filled my chest with unshed tears.

What you call home

I call exile

“How are you doing, Sarah?” Mr McIntyre had stopped her in the corridor.

“Oh, hello. I’m OK, thank you.”

“How are the audition pieces shaping up?” he asked, gesturing to her cello in its purple case.

“Very well, thank you. Mr Sands is helping a lot.”

“We’re very proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Sarah smiled.“Thank you.” Mr McIntyre walked away with one last encouraging smile. He was so kind. Always looking out for her.

The school had always made a fuss of her musical talent. It pleased her, and she was proud of it – but her shy nature stopped her from enjoying it fully. She felt a bit overwhelmed sometimes.

A shy performer. A contradiction in terms, really, but Sarah knew it was actually quite common among musicians. It’s just that their love for music was stronger than the nerves that took them whenever they got up on stage.

“Coming for lunch?”

Alice was standing at the lockers, wearing the over-the-knee stockings she had bought in Accessorize a few days before, and attracting quite a few interested looks. And some envious ones.

How does she get away with wearing that? Only Alice could pull it off!
thought Sarah, smoothing her uniform skirt over her opaque black tights.

“Yes. I’ve got food for you and the girls as well.” Sarah cooked lunch for her friends sometimes. She took it to school in dainty little containers, and made their day.

“Oh, what a treat! Thank you!” exclaimed Alice, with genuine pleasure. For a girl who watched her figure she had a very healthy appetite.

Bryony and Leigh were waiting in front of the lunch hall. They sat at their usual table, the one in the back beside the window, and Sarah started taking out her treats.

“What is it?” asked Bryony.

“Ham and soft cheese crepes, and …” She smiled and produced a little floral box. “My famous homemade chocolates, Sarah’s own.” There was a flurry of
ooohs
and
aaahs
, and they started eating and chatting.

“I love your chocolates. Especially the white ones with the little sugar roses.” Leigh licked her fingers. Sarah looked at her friend, with her cloudless blue eyes, the hint of freckles on her nose, her sunny smile. She wondered what it would be like, to have an easy life, to be a young woman without a curse. To be someone like Leigh.

A guitar sound came from under the table.

‘Whose phone is that?”

“Oh, it’s mine,” said Sarah, digging in her bag. They were allowed to keep their phones in school, as long as they switched them off during lessons. Sarah always kept it on silent anyway.
I must have forgotten
. She looked at the screen. Harry. Something must have happened.

“Sorry, girls, just a minute.”

She ran out of the lunch hall and looked for a corner where she could be alone.

“Yes?” she whispered in the phone.

“Sarah, they’re in your school.”

“What? Where?” Panic took hold of her.

“They just went in. You need to get out of there now. We can’t fight them in front of everyone.”

“What do they look like?”

“It’s a man. I think it’s Simon Knowles. He’s wearing a tracksuit. There’s a woman with him, I don’t know who she is. She has brown hair, very short, and a blue coat.”

So Leaf isn’t Simon Knowles
. Sarah drew a sigh of relief, in spite of the situation. “Going now. I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

She put the phone back in her bag, quickly. Simon was a football coach, it said on her parents’ files. He was probably there under the pretence of training the school team. The most likely places to find him would be the gym hall, or the football pitches.

Sarah ran down the stairs into the entrance hall. Harry walked through the doors, looking cool and calm.

“Oh, Sarah. Hello. I was hoping to catch you,” he said pleasantly.“I’m just going to report to the office. I’ll be right back.”

Sarah looked at him, wide eyed. His blood was as cold as ice. He would have made a great spy.

“Here I am.” He was back after a few minutes, with a visitor’s badge around his neck.

“What’s your excuse?” she whispered.

“I’m here to see your Head Teacher. To ask how you’ve been doing.”

“Right. No appointment?”

“Last-minute arrangement? Is that plausible?”

‘Not really.”

“Oh well, we’ll just have to wing it.”

Right at that moment, Sarah’s heart stopped.

“Harry.” She put a hand on his arm. “They’re over there.”

Sarah had seen them through the big glass doors at the back. They were walking towards the pitches.

“Stay here.” Harry walked away quickly.

“No, I’m coming with you …”

“Sarah! Why did you not come back?” Leigh had just appeared beside her. “We ate everything, here’s your containers. What happened?”

“Sorry, Harry said he was coming, and … Excuse me.” Sarah ran after Harry down the corridor, and outside.

“Simon,” Harry called calmly.

The man in a tracksuit and the woman in a blue coat turned around.

“There you are. I was just looking for you,” said Simon, looking straight at Sarah. He was a young guy, tall and dark, with a big, friendly smile.

“I know.” She was trying to be as cool as Harry, but her chest, rising and falling quickly, was giving her away.