Immortal (7 page)

The plump blond mistress bustled up to the door. She had a reassuring, smiling face, but her teeth looked slightly too big and uncomfortable in her mouth, and for one absurd moment I thought of the wolf in “Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” she cooed. “Let’s have a look at you. I’m Miss Dalrymple, and you’re Evie Johnson, of course. This is your first week, isn’t it? Now, Miss Raglan, don’t snap the poor girl’s head off.” The gray-haired woman glared at me, but Miss Dalrymple seemed determined to be friendly. “Come in, come in; don’t be shy.”

She hustled me into the room, and six pairs of eyes latched on to me.

“Look, ladies, at all that lovely red hair.”

“I hardly think we need to get carried away by the color of Miss Johnson’s hair,” Miss Raglan replied coldly. “What were you doing up here?”

“Looking for the housekeeper,” I said. Why were they all staring at me?

“That’s the third door on the other side of the stairs,” she snapped. “And remember—this room is out-of-bounds.”

“Yes…sorry…”

“Good-bye, Evie, for now. I do hope you’ll be in my class.” Miss Dalrymple smiled another flash of teeth. “Geography, dear. Don’t forget.”

I backed out of the room, stammering more apologies, and then fled to the housekeeper’s door. I collected my gym clothes and ran back down the marble staircase. I was suddenly not looking forward to geography. It had been plump, fussy Miss Dalrymple who had hidden something in her pocket. And I could have sworn that it was a silver dagger.

nine

THE JOURNAL OF LADY AGNES, SEPTEMBER

25, 1882
Yesterday we drew the Sacred Circle for the first time. For the ceremony, S. used a black-handled silver dagger that he had brought back from his travels, cutting the air in deft patterns to mark out a space in which to work the Mystic Rites.

I was so afraid that we were doing wrong, and would have begged him to stop, but he bade me to be patient. We were in a rough cave up on the moors lit only by a candle. We stood in our Circle, waiting. A deep silence fell over us. The candle burned without wavering, like a single bright eye. Then S. spoke the incantation written in the Book. It seemed to echo through me like the sound of a bell. But nothing happened. Then he called upon the spirits of the four Elements to reveal themselves to us. Again there was no response. He turned the pages of the Book impatiently, calling out the words and prayers and charms written on them, growing frustrated as nothing had any effect.

A small voice in my head said,
I knew nothing would happen.
I felt my body relax. We had tried and failed, and now S. would forget all about this nonsense. Yet, if I must tell the truth, in some secret part of me I was also disappointed. What had I hoped for? A thrill of excitement from defying the rules set out by Mama and Miss Binns? Or was it to please him that I wanted something to happen? Suddenly he turned to me and pushed the Book into my hands.

“You do it.”

“
Oh…but
—”

“Please, Agnes. Just once. Please do this for me. Call the Sacred Fire.”

A strange shudder went through me, and I knew that I wanted to do this. I had to, and so I began.

I heard my voice tremble as I read the incantation to summon the elemental spirits. Then it grew in power, and the strange words rolled from my lips as though I had been speaking them all my life. The earth beneath my feet began to shake, and there was a flash of lightning. A
blustering wind that sounded like the hungry sea swept through the cave. I dropped the Book and stretched out my arms. Tiny white flames danced in my cupped hands. I felt no pain or fear, and in that moment I felt more myself than I ever had before.

I saw him stagger away from me with a cry, and the Circle was broken. The white fire vanished, the wind dropped, and the earth was still. We stood eyeing each other warily, panting for breath, overcome with wonder.

“The Elements answered your call, Agnes,” he said slowly. “You have called their spirits and they have answered. The Fire has spoken to you.”

We walked back to the Abbey in silence, trying to believe it, trying to understand. And I knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Since then I have felt transformed. I am indeed on fire with hopes and dreams. Everything shimmers and glitters around me. Life is overflowing; I see tiny insects crawling, I see fish in the lake and birds swooping over the chapel ruins—and I crawl and swim and fly with them.

And there are other things that I see too: strange ghosts glimmering in the shadows. This morning, as I left the schoolroom to fetch some new embroidery silk for Miss Binns that my aunt Marchmont had sent from Paris, I
had an odd feeling that I was being watched. I turned and saw the faintest image of a young girl walking in the corridor behind me. I thought at first that it was a trick of the light, but it was as though the curtain between this world and another had been lifted. She wore a short tunic, and her legs were covered only by stockings, and like me, she had flame-colored hair. When I saw her shimmering there, half hidden by the gulf that lay between us, I seemed to hear the sound of the waves and smell the salt tang of the sea….

Our “game” has proved to be gloriously, unimaginably real. Now I am burning to know more and discover every secret.

I have never felt so alive.

Ten

I

had never felt so depressed. It was as though part of me had died. Everything about Wyldcliffe seemed strange and uncomfortable—no, more than uncomfortable—threatening. Every shadow made me jump; every night brought disturbing dreams; every morning I woke with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I told myself that it was just because the school was so different from everything I had ever known. I would soon get used to it. I would soon toughen up.
Be sensible, Evie; of course that teacher didn’t have a dagger in her pocket. It was simply a letter opener shaped like a knife
. Of course I hadn’t really seen Laura drown. It was only a dream. And the girl with the flame-colored hair was imaginary. There was nothing to worry about. I was just anxious and homesick. But somehow I couldn’t quite convince myself.

When I had been at Wyldcliffe about a week, I finally got a letter from Dad. It was set out with the rest of the students’ mail on a long table in the entrance hall. My heart skipped as I recognized his neat handwriting. I stuffed the letter in my pocket and counted the seconds until the bell rang for morning break. When it did, I followed the class out onto the terrace overlooking the grounds. The other students hung around Celeste as she went on about the marvelous vacation she’d had in some exclusive island paradise. Helen had stayed in the classroom, reading, and there was no sign of Sarah either. I hadn’t seen much of her, as she spent all her spare time in the stables.

No one offered to talk to me, or to share the cookies and hot chocolate that were always served at this time of the day. It was as though Celeste’s dislike of me had made me untouchable. I told myself I didn’t care, and ran down to the ruins to open my letter in peace.

Dearest E.,

I hope by now you are getting used to your new school and making friends. What do you think of Wyldcliffe? It is fine countryside around there. Your mother and I visited the area when we were first married. Clara wanted
to see the old farm where her family had once lived. We walked for miles over the moors without meeting another soul, I remember, though perhaps it has changed since then. I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you have been lucky enough to get a scholarship to Wyldcliffe. It is such a weight off my mind to know that you are being looked after so well.

I return overseas tomorrow. It will be good to get back to my men and the job we have to do, but I will be thinking of you every day. I saw Frankie at the nursing home this morning; I’m afraid there’s no change. She didn’t really know me. But never forget how much she loves you. And so do I, my chicken.

Be brave, study hard, and make your old dad proud.

I fought the lump that came into my throat. I didn’t feel brave at all. A crow screeched overhead. I glanced up. The ruins and the moors and the threatening sky seemed so incredibly lonely and desolate.
What do you think of Wyldcliffe? Actually, Dad, I’m beginning to hate the place….
But I would never tell him that. I had to deal with it, as Helen had said.

Blowing my nose, I jumped up, then noticed with horror that the other girls had disappeared from the terrace. They must have all gone inside for the next class. I raced over the damp grass and slipped into the building through one of the side doors. There was no one around. I searched my pockets for the schedule and map I had been carrying everywhere.

It was gone. I couldn’t find it. I would be late, I would get into trouble again, and Dad would find out….

Math. That was it—I was sure we had math next with Miss Raglan, the gray-haired teacher who had been so annoyed with me. And I remembered that the math room was at the front of the building, in one of the grand old rooms near the library. All I had to do was to get to the marble staircase and I would be nearly there. I had to be quick, though. Miss Raglan would be just the kind of mistress to dish out a demerit if I turned up late.

I tore along the deserted corridors. Everyone was in class but me. The whole house seemed still and hushed. At last I reached the right place. Yes, this was it, thank goodness. I opened the door.

But it wasn’t Miss Raglan’s room. It wasn’t even a classroom. It was some kind of jumbled parlor stuffed with heavy furniture and vases and gold-framed pictures. A skinny young girl with a smudged face and a black dress was sweeping the fireplace. I slammed the door shut and looked around wildly. Suddenly I didn’t recognize the ornate paintings on the walls of the corridor, or the red carpet on the floor. Now I was completely lost.

Okay, okay,
I thought,
just make your way to Miss Scratton’s room; you must remember how to get there. Just explain to her that you couldn’t find your way and ask for another map.

Before I could move, I heard a soft noise behind me. Then I saw her again, the girl in white, walking away from me down the corridor. She held a bundle of rainbow-colored silks in her hands. Without thinking I followed her down the corridor, as if in a dream, and all the time I could hear the
swish-swish-swish
of her long skirt.

“Hi, stop!” I tried to shout. She paused and turned, looking over her shoulder with a puzzled frown. The ground under my feet seemed to collapse, and the colors of the silks in her hand swirled into a strange kaleidoscope, as if the whole world had started to spin. I saw her pale face in the streaming shadows; then it turned into the dreadful dead stare of poor drowned Laura. I began to struggle for breath as the darkness came over me once again. I was falling and no one could save me, no one except a dark-haired boy laughing under the stars. I felt his cool breath on my cheek; I saw the fierce blue of his eyes; I heard his voice:
I saved your life…. We’ll meet again.
The fading scar on my hand throbbed faintly, like a pulse. I cried out, “Where are you? Who are you?” But he just laughed and murmured,
Evie…Evie…

“Evie! Evie!” A stranger was calling me. My head was bursting with pain, and I felt sick. I struggled to open my eyes. A man with gold-rimmed glasses was bending over me. I panicked and tried to push him away.

“This is Dr. Harrison, Evie.” Miss Scratton’s pinched face came into focus, hovering behind the doctor. She was watching me intently. “You fainted again. We’re concerned about you.”

I made an effort to sit up. I was in a bare white room that I hadn’t seen before.

“Where…?”

“You’re in the nurse’s room, in the infirmary,” explained Miss Scratton. “One of the junior girls found you lying in the corridor outside the math room. What happened?”

I hesitated, then looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Well, we can’t have you fainting all over the place,” she said curtly. “There must be some explanation.”

“I don’t think there’s anything terribly wrong, Miss Scratton,” the doctor intervened. “Her blood pressure is normal. But this young lady’s had a bit of an upheaval in her life, by all accounts, and no doubt is working hard and missing home. She needs fresh air and exercise.” He turned to me and asked, “Do you ride? That would bring some roses to your cheeks.”

I shook my head and croaked, “I like swimming.”

“Swimming? Excellent! I’m sure that can be arranged. There’s a pool on the school grounds, isn’t there, Miss Scratton?”

“It’s only filled with water in the summer term.”

Dr. Harrison grunted, dissatisfied, but stood up to go. “I’ll leave some vitamin tablets for you to take, young lady. And no skipping meals!”

He gave me a smile and left, followed by Miss Scratton. I lay back down, resting my head thankfully on the cool pillow. What had really happened in that corridor? Who was the girl in white? Was she connected with Laura in some way? And the boy—he had been there, next to me, close enough to touch.

A wave of nausea swept over me. I turned my face to the wall and closed my eyes. It was ridiculous to get worked up about people I would never see again.

Who were they, after all? A boy I had met only once and would probably never meet again. A dead girl from a photograph. A nonexistent redheaded girl I had dreamed up out of my imagination. It was pathetic. I was acting like some sad, demented kid, so desperate for someone to talk to that I’d invented crazy invisible friends. It was stupid, stupid, stupid. I didn’t need anyone.

But however much I might say it, I knew in my heart that it wasn’t true. I did need some kind of human contact, even if it was only with dreams and illusions. For the first time in my life I admitted to myself that I was painfully lonely. Celeste and the other confident, self-satisfied Wyldcliffe girls had made it clear that they didn’t want me around. Perhaps I could have made more of an effort to be friends with Helen, but there was something about her that sort of scared me. And there was Sarah. I really liked Sarah, but she seemed quite happy with her horses and her garden. She didn’t need me. No one did. I was alone.