The Dark

CHAPTER Nineteen



Isabel


Ethan wants to go with me. We’re standing outside the secret door to Arkarian’s chambers. Arguing. But I don’t see why Ethan has to risk his life too. Suddenly the stakes have risen. If only Lorian hadn’t given us a direct command, but the Immortal did this on purpose, knowing we’d plan a rescue.

‘Look at you,’ Ethan says, staring down at me.

I don’t follow his sudden change in tactic. I glance down at my clothes – nothing unusual, just my old black jeans and a grey jumper. Unconsciously I run my hand through my hair. ‘Yeah? What?’

‘I know Lord Penbarin. He’s helped me before. Your solo attitude right now would really tick him off. We’re supposed to be a team, Isabel. The Tribunal put us together. They know we click. But you’ve never recognised it. You always complain that you don’t get to do the missions on your own. And now you’re obsessed with finding Arkarian without anyone’s help. You’re out of control.’

I would argue, but this time Ethan’s right. I’ve been out of control since Arkarian’s abduction. It’s like there’s a churning hurricane inside me that just won’t blow away. I feel all twisted inside. And I’m not really sure why. All I know is that a world without Arkarian is a world I don’t want to live in.

My head feels heavy all of a sudden. There’s so much to think about, especially this rescue attempt. It carries enormous risks. That’s why I want to do it alone. ‘Look, Ethan, it’s enough one of us has to risk her life, don’t you think?’

He looks me straight in the eyes, gripping my shoulders. ‘Tell me this: if it has to be only one of us, why should it be you?’

‘Because I …’

‘Love him?’

My head lifts slightly, and I shrug out of his hold, finding myself unable to meet his gaze.

‘Isabel, I love him too. He’s like a father, a brother, a friend, everything to me.’

The thought that maybe I just don’t trust anyone else to succeed in bringing Arkarian back crosses my mind, but I push it away. I would trust Ethan with my life. But where Ethan has more skills than me, more effective powers, I’m the one with the gift of sight. This has to be a huge advantage in this underworld. ‘It’s not a matter of who’s got the right, Ethan. I just think I can do this alone.’

‘What is it with you?’ he snaps at me. ‘Why do you feel compelled to do everything on your own? You only make things harder for yourself you know. You’ve got nothing to prove, Isabel. Nothing you haven’t already proved to everyone you’ve ever known a thousand times over.’

‘What are you talking about? I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone.’

‘You’re lying!’

‘That’s rubbish!’

‘You’re lying to yourself, Isabel. Think about it.’ He turns his back and goes in through the secret door.

Alone for a minute I think about Ethan’s accusation. Am I really always trying to prove myself? Is that how he sees me? But prove what exactly? My strength? That I can cope on my own?

A sudden stab of pain and bright light hits me, making me drop to my knees. I try to relax, to allow my breathing to slow. At last the light softens and an image forms more clearly. I realise straightaway that I’m seeing my past. It’s my father. His face is crystal clear. And while I’ve never seen a photograph of him (Mum took scissors to every one she had the night he walked out), I know this is him. I feel it.

It’s then I see myself in this vision too. I can’t be more than three or four years old, running down a flight of wooden stairs, strands of white-blonde hair clinging to my face – which is wet and red and puffy. Inside my chest, my heart pounds like a heavy drum. Dad has a suitcase in one hand, and is heading for a blue station wagon. He hears me and turns, drops the suitcase and holds his arms out to me. ‘My little Isa, come here.’ His voice sounds broken. ‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said goodbye to my favourite girl in the whole world.’ I fly into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, and feel his wet face against my neck.

‘Daddy, you’re crying too!’

He tries to lower me to the ground as if in a desperate hurry, but I cling to him tightly. He glances at Mum to help him remove me, but she raises her head and turns it away. She doesn’t want him to go either, and I feel this with every part of me, making me hold on even tighter. Mum goes inside, sobbing now, and Matt runs after her. Dad tries hard to break my hold. I slip, sliding to the ground, where I attach myself to his leg.

‘I have to go, sweetheart,’ he says. ‘I can’t live with this deceit any more. You don’t understand. I tried to explain it to you last week at our picnic, but you’re so young, my words don’t mean anything. They probably never will, even if one day you do remember them.’

‘Daddy, what’s wrong?’

He lifts me up and holds me at eye level. ‘Do the best, Isabel. Always do the best that you can. Promise me?’

As quickly as the image hits me, it disappears, leaving me crouched to the ground and breathless. Ethan comes up behind me. ‘Hey, are you all right? I turned around and you weren’t following. What are you doing?’

I get up, but the look on my face must give him a fright. He drags me into his arms, rubbing my back with his hand. ‘You’ve had another vision.’ It’s not a question. ‘What did you see?’

I push my open palms at his chest, giving myself a little space. The vision of my father has shaken me. I can hardly form words. What was that all about? What was the deceit he couldn’t live with?

But Ethan is worried, and I try to collect myself. ‘It was nothing. Nothing to do with Arkarian, or your mum, or anything like that.’

He steps back and just looks at me, his head at a slight angle, but doesn’t say anything. He simply waits.

‘All right,’ I tell him. ‘We’ll do this thing together.’