Sentinel (20 page)

Nicholas could almost hear their joyful cries as they frolicked barefoot in the grass. He wondered who these sprightly individuals were, and how they were connected to the grim-faced woman that was their neighbour. There must be a connection, if not with her, then at least with Jessica. Nicholas mulled this over; somehow the two dancing women reminded him of Jessica.

Something rubbed against his leg and he found the cat staring up at him. “Where’ve you been?” the boy said, bending down to scoop the animal up into his arms. The cat purred as he fondled its ears, shoving its head into his hand.

“Let’s get out of here shall we?” Nicholas said, eyeing the scowling old lady. He went out onto the dimly-lit landing. He was on the second floor, and if he peered over the banister he could see right into the circular lobby below. From this height, Nicholas could trace the twisting design of the marble floor – it appeared to consist of three intertwining sections that coalesced in the centre around a six-pointed star.

The sound of voices echoed into the lobby. Surprised, Nicholas crouched down, holding the cat tightly to him. He hadn’t seen Jessica since that morning, when she’d given him a brief tour of the house – including the kitchen, where a pantry was full of food, and the sunny conservatory. He’d used the shower in the bathroom adjoining his bedroom to wash away the dirt of the bus crash.

Jessica hadn’t mentioned that they would be receiving guests, though, and he’d not heard anybody else come into the house. So who was talking?

There came the sound of footsteps and Nicholas pressed his forehead against the banister rail, straining to see into the lobby.

Jessica glided across the marble floor, talking in a hushed tone. A second figure appeared behind her – a tall stranger wearing a hooded black cloak. Jessica spoke quietly to the newcomer, and then they both disappeared through a doorway.

What’s going on?
Nicholas thought. Who could this newcomer be? Another Sentinel? Unable to contain his curiosity, the boy hurried down to the lobby. The cat squirmed in his grasp so he dropped it to the floor.

A light burned in one of the passageways beyond the circular foyer and Nicholas skulked quietly after Jessica. He’d crept around his own house many times at night and he knew that he could move about unheard if he concentrated. He stepped lightly, brushing a hand along the wall for balance.

This part of the house seemed older and the few lamps lining the walls were not lit. Finally, the boy came to the spot where the sole flickering light originated – it pushed its way through the crack of a peeling old door that had been left slightly ajar. Nicholas recognised this door. He’d tried to open it earlier in the day, but it had been locked. Blood thumping in his ears, he eased in to the stare through the gap.

It was another one of those strange little rooms. Though plain in decor, this one, a parlour, perhaps, was shaped like a pentagon, its five walls making it distinct from the other rooms in Hallow House. The smell of damp was all-consuming. It was clear this place had been locked up for quite some time. Nicholas realised that this was the one part of the house that truly showed its age. Broken cobwebs quivered in the corners and there was a layer of dust covering everything. Even the surface of the walls had chipped away to reveal the plaster underneath, like a picked scab.

Standing before a round table, her back to him, Jessica glowed in the sputtering candlelight.

“I have seen the boy,” a deep, male voice rumbled, resonating hollowly in the confined space.

The figure in the black robes lingered in one of the room’s furthest corners. He was unnervingly still. Nicholas frowned. There was something wrong with the hooded stranger’s face. It was emotionless and sallow, fixed in a perpetual expression of indifference. Then the boy realised what was wrong – it wasn’t a face at all, but a mask. For a moment, the shadows that twitched across its smooth surface had afforded the visor a life-like appearance.

“And?”

This time it was Jessica who spoke.

“He is emotional.”

Jessica didn’t move a muscle. “He mourns,” she reasoned. “He has endured much in these past weeks. For now he is grieving, but he has strength.”

“You like him,” the figure observed. “Be careful. You must not let your feelings muddy the truth – if the boy isn’t capable of what is required, he must be dismissed.”

Nicholas’s stomach gave a little flip. What were they talking about? Whatever it was, the boy took an instant dislike to the stranger. He spoke in clipped, self-important tones. There was an air of the military about him. And what was with the mask? Nicholas wanted to see the stranger’s face, but all that was visible behind the mask was the eyes. Nicholas remembered his mother telling him that eyes were the windows to the soul. The newcomer’s were shards of black glass.

“Do you have news from the community?” Jessica asked.

“There is panic,” the hooded figure told her, though he sounded resigned to what he had witnessed. “Nobody anticipated this; not even the Sensitives. Naturally they sensed something, but this was beyond prediction.” The figure paused before continuing darkly: “Cambridge has been particularly active. Strange things are happening there. Missing children, a break-in at the museum. Attacks on Sentinel families.”

“But that’s where Nicholas has come from,” Jessica started. “What do you–”

“We cannot stand about debating the ‘whats’ and ‘ifs’ of the situation,” the figure snapped. “You’re delaying.”

“I’m not.” Jessica sounded annoyed. Nicholas was surprised that she could be riled in that way. She’d seemed so composed with him.

“What are we to do?” Jessica asked finally.

“The moon is waxing,” the figure told her. “It’s time to put your studies into practice.”

Jessica moved – and Nicholas nearly cried out in shock.

A skull was grinning at him.

There, in a chair pushed up to the circular table, sat a withered old corpse. Its taut skin was papery, while a mound of black and silver curls tumbled down into the empty eye sockets – which gaped right at him.

Nicholas put a hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing, which suddenly seemed to be huffing loudly from his throat. He wondered if Jessica could hear the blood pumping in his ears. What the hell was going on?

“Tonight?” Jessica said. She eyed the cadaver. It was still wearing the clothes it had died in. The necklaces and rings adorning its throat and bony fingers were dull with age. “I’m not ready.”

“You will have to be,” the figure told her bluntly. “If we are to stand any chance against those in the service of the Dark Prophets, we’ll need any aid that is available to us. You have studied the conjuration for long enough, and she has been trapped for far too long. She will prove a powerful ally, especially with regard to the boy. It is time to release her.”

Even from here Jessica looked nervous, and Nicholas started to feel uneasy. He’d known Jessica for only the briefest of moments, but she’d seemed so serene, possessing wisdom beyond her youthful appearance. Now, a fracture in her confidence had appeared, and for once she was acting as young as she looked. As Jessica regarded the cloaked figure in the corner, Nicholas realised that she was scared.

Something touched Nicholas’s leg and he stifled another yell, gripping the doorframe to stop himself tumbling into the candlelit parlour. It was the cat again.

“Shhh,” Nicholas warned it, shoving it away from the door. Then he turned back to the room. The cloaked figure handed Jessica a small velvet pouch.

“Focus,” he told her. “You have trained long for this. It must not fail.”

Jessica clutched the velvet pouch before her and swallowed. The figure retreated into the shadows in the corner of the room.

Jessica closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before pulling on the gold cord that bound the pouch. Reaching inside, she fingered the contents and withdrew her hand. Then she began to murmur deferentially, humming foreign-sounding words.

The candles guttered and then flamed higher.

Nicholas quivered. The words were needling at his skin. He could feel them crackling through the atmosphere, elongating and settling. Goosebumps prickled down his arms.

In the room, the wooden chandelier began to spin. It whirled faster and faster. The candle flames merged to become a gyrating circle of fire. A spinning halo above.

Jessica fixed her gaze on the corpse.

She threw her hand out, scattering dry powder into the air. As it fell and met the candles, they sputtered and flashed. The flames flickered black.

An unnatural wind groaned. It unsettled Jessica’s hair and ruffled the folds of her dress.

Nicholas watched on, his nose twitching as the dust gusted through the gap in the door. What sort of words was Jessica speaking? And what had turned the flames black like that? He didn’t like it. A part of him wanted to shout out; to storm into the room and – what? Shake Jessica out of whatever madness had gripped her? Something stopped him. Perhaps it was fear. Or curiosity. Whatever it was, Nicholas barely moved, barely breathed, both horrified and thrilled.

Jessica stretched her hands up to the ceiling. Above, the halo of light span faster.

“Return!” she beseeched. “Awaken. Remember. Live!”

The walls trembled.

In the corner, the masked figure stood motionless. Sinister and snake-like. Black eyes glittering at Jessica.

Nicholas caught his breath as he noticed a small furry shape crouched on the floor by the table. The cat had moved towards the commotion, its own inquisitiveness getting the better of it. It sniffed at the incensed air, its head moving in circles as it followed the course of the rotating chandelier.

“Get back here,” Nicholas hissed at it.

“Return!” Jessica cried.

There came a crackle of thunder and sparks danced about the spinning halo.

With an almighty crunch the ceiling split, a jagged line zigzagging from wall to wall, and the wooden floorboards sagged with a groan.

The sparks were alive, swarming through the air.

They fizzed down from the chandelier and flickered in between Jessica’s hands.

Nicholas watched as a sudden change came over the cat. Its hackles raised and it squashed itself up against the wall behind it. A low growl burred from the back of its throat and it let out an uneasy
hisssssss
.

Jessica’s concentration seemed to falter. She turned toward the cat.

The last thing Nicholas saw before the explosion of light was a black cat with its ears flattened against its skull.

A concussive pulse of energy blasted through the room.

Nicholas was hurled back and hit the floor.

A blanket of white light smothered him.

He couldn’t see. His ears were ringing. For a moment he thought that he was blind for good and panic snatched at him. Then the white haze began to clear and the ringing in his ears slowly subsided. He lay there for a moment, crumpled, a ball of nerves. Part of him dared not look back into the room for fear of what he might find. It had sounded like a bomb had gone off. But he had to look.

Steadying himself against the doorframe, he peered through the crack once more.

Jessica stood blinking. On the other side of the room, the masked figure crouched low, those dark eyes swivelling uneasily. The candles had all gusted out and a ghostly calm rested over the parlour.

“What devilry is this?”

A terse voice shattered the silence.

Nicholas looked about uncertainly at this new voice. He didn’t recognise it. It sounded like an old woman.

In the room, Jessica stiffened. Her eyes flashed to the corpse and she frowned when she saw that it was as lifeless as ever. She looked confused, searching for the owner of those brusque tones, and her gaze finally rested, incredulously, on the cat. It was peering at its meagre surroundings with renewed interest. Perhaps it was a mere trick of the light, but it seemed that irregular flashes of silver had appeared in its jet-black fur.

Jessica watched the animal, finally finding her voice.

“Isabel?” she uttered doubtfully.

The cat looked at her,
really
looked at her, and there was a flicker of recognition in its marble-like eyes.

Then the animal opened its mouth and said: “Jessica? What–?”

Jessica flinched. In his corner, the masked figure rose.

“What is happening?” the cat demanded. It seemed to notice the corpse at the table for the first time and its tail began lashing irritably. Ears flattened.

“What is this?” the cat demanded again, the cracked voice choking.

Jessica stared at the talking feline. Then a grin spread across her face and she clapped her hands joyfully.

“It worked!” she rejoiced. “Not quite how I expected, but… look at you! You’re here!”

The animal glared at her. “Well of course I’m here,” it snapped. Then it hesitated, as if realising that something wasn’t quite right. It was talking up at Jessica – that in itself was odd. The creature appraised the room and seemed to become aware that everything was bigger than it ought to be. It blinked, looked down where two furry black paws rested. The cat’s eyes widened in horror and a growl rumbled through it – which only served to cause it even greater disquiet.