Tide (17 page)

The shape of my eyes,

The shape of my arms

The way my hair flows

And the way I stand –

All this from you, and still

I don’t know who you are

“We need food, and peat for the fire,” said Sean. They were just off the ferry, standing beside the cars – Sean’s black Bravo and Nicholas’s huge monster of a Jeep that reminded Sarah of her parents’ car, and not in a good way.

“No need. Mrs McArthur has everything ready for us,” replied Sarah.

Sean’s eyes narrowed. “Is she a Gamekeeper?”

“No, but my parents trusted her just as if she’d been one,” Sarah reassured him.

Sean nodded. “Let’s avoid drawing attention to ourselves as much as we can, anyway.”

Elodie turned her face to the sky. She was wearing a white jacket that swamped her slender frame. She looked deceptively delicate in it. “Do we have far to go? I think it’s going to snow.”

“It won’t take more than an hour.” Sarah pointed along the coast, beyond the heathery hills. “Hopefully we’ll be there before it starts snowing. Follow us.”

She’s acting like herself again
, thought Sean, watching her climb into Nicholas’s Jeep.
If this is the Islay effect, long may it last.

Sarah leaned back in the seat and let her eyes and mind wander. She took it all in with a sense of hunger, wanting to swallow it all, the sea and the soft, moist hills and the sky above, so wide, so free.

“Did you come to Islay often when you were a child?” asked Nicholas after a while.

Sarah blinked, coming back to herself.

“Yes. A lot. Then …we stopped coming all of a sudden. That was when my parents started going hunting every single night. It was relentless. Looking back, I knew there was something wrong, I could feel it. I just didn’t want to admit it. And they never explained.”

“Never mind. It’s all in the past now.”

Sarah sighed. “Thing is, my past won’t really go away.”

“Yes.”
Mine won’t go either. My mother is still with me
, thought Nicholas, his mind suddenly whirring with memories.
And so is—no. Don’t think of her. It will just break you.

“That’s why I’m here,” Sarah continued. “To find some answers about the past. My parents hardly told me anything, my grandmother was a mystery. There’s an aunt I never knew I had. I just don’t know …”

“… Who you are,” Nicholas finished for her.

“Yes. You read my mind.” Sarah turned to him and her heart leapt. His profile was so handsome, flawless against the wet car window, and beyond it, the stormy sea. His eyes were like obsidian, and his hair blue-black against his ghostly white skin. He looked like some forgotten god of a lost civilization, or someone out of a vision.

And he is
, thought Sarah.
After all, he did come to me in a dream. And he doesn’t look quite … human
, she couldn’t help thinking.

No
. She rejected the thought with all her might.
He’s a Secret heir, like me – we’re supposed to be a bit unusual.

“It happens to me too,” said Nicholas. “Not knowing who I am.”
More than you can imagine.

“You are Nicholas Donal, and you’re my boyfriend,” smiled Sarah. She hated seeing Nicholas so upset.

“That much is sure!” Nicholas smiled back, but his eyes remained solemn.
That much is a lie
, he thought helplessly, and the bit of his heart that still belonged to him, and not to his father, throbbed painfully once more.

Sarah sat up suddenly. “There it is! That is Midnight Hall, see? Up on the hill! Turn left, just past this bend.”

Sarah rolled down the car window and waved to Sean, who was following them. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her eyes were shining.

Have I ever felt this way before? Ever in my life?
Nicholas asked himself.

They drove along a little winding road that climbed down towards the sea and drew up right in front of Midnight Hall. It was a red sandstone building, with slate-covered roofs and turrets, and a multitude of windows. Right at the back of it was the open beach, and the sea.

“Here we are!” exclaimed Sarah, jumping out of the car the moment it stopped.

“Looks a bit like a haunted house,
n’est-ce pas
?” whispered Elodie as she lifted her suitcase from the boot of Sean’s car.

“That’s likely. That it’s haunted, I mean – knowing the Midnights,” said Sean matter-of-factly.

“Sarah! Welcome!” A grey-haired woman hurried down the grand stony steps.

“Mrs McArthur!” They hugged briefly.

“I haven’t seen you for so long. I’m so sorry about your parents, Sarah.” She shook her head, twisting her fingers nervously, and Sarah nodded, her eyes downcast, unable to speak, before dashing up the steps. “So, you must be Sarah’s friends? Here for Christmas?”

“Yes. Always up for a party, these Midnights, huh?” said Sean, deadpan, locking the boot of his car.

“Ehm, yes. Aren’t they?” Mrs McArthur laughed feebly. That wasn’t her memory of James Midnight, let alone Morag and Hamish. But it seemed impossible to disagree with this hard-looking, authoritative young man. Was he Sarah Midnight’s boyfriend?

“Thank you, Mrs McArthur. We’ll take it from here,” he told her. Mrs McArthur looked confused.

“Sorry,” intervened Sarah. “I should have introduced you! This is my cousin, Harry Midnight.”

Silence fell for a second, while everybody froze. Everybody but Sean. “Nice to meet you. I’ve always wanted to visit Midnight Hall,” he replied coolly.

“Harry Midnight! Stewart’s son! What a pleasure to meet you! If your poor dad could see you here …”

Elodie drew a breath at the mention of Harry’s name, and Sean noticed her distress.

“Yes. Yes. Lovely to meet you too. Anyway, no reason to come and check on us in the next few days. Enjoy a Christmas break. We’ll come and say goodbye when we leave.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“Thank you so much for all your help, Mrs McArthur. Really, thank you.” Sarah softened Sean’s harsh words.

“A pleasure. If only this house was lived in again,” she sighed. “But sure, you have your own life there in Edinburgh, don’t you? The city is more exciting than this island, I suppose!”

Exciting is one way of putting it
, thought Sarah.

“Well, call me if you need anything. Bye, Sarah dear. Bye, Harry.” Mrs McArthur climbed into her car, turning back to wave a couple of times.

“Why did you tell her I was Harry?” whispered Sean as they watched Mrs McArthur’s car trundling down the road.

“Because if something happens to me here, I want you to take over.”

“Me? What about … Nicholas?” He winced, as if saying Nicholas’s name reminded him of the bond between him and Sarah. But he couldn’t help asking.

“Nicholas has a family. A home. You’re free to take over any role you need to. And there’s nobody left if I go. No Midnights left. Except for Elodie, I suppose, and in a way, you.” Sarah’s face wanted to be hard, but there was a tenderness in her eyes that surprised Sean, and confused him. It didn’t last long. Sarah clammed up again, and the warmth was gone.

Sean opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He couldn’t find the words.

“It’s freezing out here,” complained Elodie. Sean turned in surprise. Elodie never complained. He noticed, and not for the first time, how pale she looked, and how her eyes were shadowed with blue.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her by her cold hand. “Let’s get you warm.”

The majestic wooden door creaked as Sarah opened it. They tip-toed in as quietly as they could into the vast, stoned-paved vestibule, without even being aware that they were doing so – as if they were scared to disturb somebody. There was nobody, of course, but the space didn’t feel empty.

“This is a psychic’s paradise,” said Elodie in a low voice.

The high ceilings, the grey stone floors, the walls full of portraits of long-dead people. The soft, low creaks of an old building forever settling, forever whispering. The chill, musty air, which, Sarah remembered suddenly, would stay chill despite the fireplaces, because of the thickness of the walls and the height of the ceilings. One of those houses that has been ancient forever, since the day it was built.

Sarah shivered as they stood in the hallway, taking it all in. Memories flooded her, of the many times she’d stepped into the Hall with her parents. It was as if she could see the little girl she used to be, walking onto the stone floor with her satchel and the cello case strapped to her back, following her tall, strong-framed father and her graceful, lithe mother, with her black hair spilling down her back – the hair Sarah had inherited. Her Grandfather Hamish had died soon after Sarah’s birth, so she didn’t remember him at all – but the image of Morag Midnight walking down the grand staircase to meet them was burnt into her memory. Her grandmother had been nearly as tall as her father, always dressed in dark colours, standing proud and straight-backed.

“Hello, Sarah,” she always said, without ever giving her a hug or a kiss. Morag wasn’t that kind of person. But Sarah could feel that her grandmother was happy to see them, all three of them.

“I’m back,” she whispered to the empty space where her family had been. Everyone stood still.

It was Elodie who broke the spell. She jerked her head towards the door. “Sean. There’s someone outside.”

“Demons?”

“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Two of them.”

Not yet
, prayed Sarah silently.
Give us just a few hours of peace …

They all turned to face the door, readying themselves. Sarah’s hands were burning, Sean’s
sgian-dubh
was poised, Elodie’s lips were darkening. As Sean pulled the heavy wooden door open they saw Nicholas’s ravens swooping across the sky and twirling over and around Midnight Hall, as if they were of one mind. Two men stood at the foot of the entrance steps.

Sean squinted in the dusk, trying to make out who – or what – they were. But before he could decide, Elodie screamed, “
Niryana!
” and shot out, fast and agile. She threw her full weight towards the mysterious figures, and in seconds, one of the men was lying there, unconscious.

To meet your eyes and see

We’re on the same side

To feel for once that we

Are not alone

Mike had driven from Edinburgh to Oban in a stolen Mini – borrowed, Mike insisted. They had abandoned the car on a double yellow line near Oban harbour with a note on the front seat:
I come from Edinburgh, take me back. Thank you
.

They had no money left to rent a boat, so Niall went to the pub and came out with somebody’s wallet.

“I’d better watch my pockets while you’re around, Niall,” Mike commented.

“No point. There’s nothing in them.”

“Very funny. Now, where’s our transport?” asked Mike, a nauseous feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Just thinking of more sailing made him want to be sick. They managed to convince a German couple that they were going to surprise some friends camping on Islay. The generous fee helped, and the couple sailed them over in no time. All they had to do now was find Midnight Hall.

They walked under a milk-coloured blanket of clouds in silence. The sky was heavy with snow, and the wind blew bitter, showing no sign of relenting. There were cottages and little farms dotted here and there on the rolling hills, few and far apart, and they walked on, heads bent against the wind, freezing and exhausted. They tortured themselves with talk of a warm bed, and of food as they walked. Finally, they saw a red sandstone mansion – the first house they’d seen that looked grand enough to be Midnight Hall.

“Hopefully, that will be it,” said Mike wearily. “But even if it’s not, I’m counting on a warm welcome.”

“Even just a cup of tea will do me,” said Niall feebly.

They approached the house with trepidation, Mike with his hand in his pocket, ready to take out the gun he’d kept from the attack on the ship, if needed. They could see through the windows that the fires were lit; somebody was inside. Mike gestured to follow him. In silence, they walked round the back of the house where they spotted a little red Punto.

Through an upstairs window, Niall made out the shape of an old lady with a duster in her hand, and beside her, a little blonde girl. He took Mike’s arm and pointed upwards. “Someone is clearly here. What do we do?” muttered Niall.

Mike surveyed the space around them with his eyes. He spotted a few outhouses, ivy-covered and – most likely – locked.

“We wait until Sean comes in or out,” whispered Mike, pointing to the outhouse closest to them.

“And if he doesn’t? If this isn’t the right place?”

“We need to start walking again,” Mike replied darkly, making his way towards the small stony buildings. They walked across a small stretch of what used to be a garden but was now growing wild, stepping over some gorse bushes and jumping over mossy tree stumps. They tucked themselves behind an ivy-covered wall that protected them from the worst of the wind, and sat with their backs against the stones, hugging their knees for warmth. Time stretches when you haven’t slept properly for days, the cold seeps in your bones, and shelter is only a few yards away and yet unreachable.

“I’m so hungry I’m going to pass out,” Niall complained.

Mike didn’t reply. He had fallen asleep. Niall closed his eyes and let himself nod off too, wondering if that was really Midnight Hall, who were the old woman and the blonde girl? Finally sleep caught up with him too, and he nodded off. They slept huddled together, lullabied by the sound of the sea a few hundred yards away.

“Niall! Niall! Wake up. Somebody is here!” Mike shook Niall out of his slumber. They could hear car doors slamming, and voices.

The world spun around Niall as he got up and followed Mike out of their hiding place. An unkindness of ravens was settling in front of the house, their heads jerking left and right, as if examining their surroundings.
That’s a lot of birds
, thought Niall, rubbing his frozen hands together.