46
Death Written in Blood
Our end is coded
In the spark of our beginning
The demon-bird sat panting, his back resting against the stony cliff. I failed again, he kept telling himself, choked with fear and fury. His hands were clutching his chest, where blood oozed from his wounds. Please stop, he begged. Please heal. Please let me have enough strength to complete my mission.
With huge effort he removed the mask from his face, loosened his beak and mane and laid them on the sand beside him. Relieved of the disguise, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Next, he removed his leather cloak, which he used to catch the wind as he flew, and the claws.
Tancredi Falco grabbed some rags from a bag beside him and held them tightly to his chest, willing with all his might for the bleeding to subside. He didn’t have long. And he had accepted that. He’d go the same way as his brother Ranieri, and soon he’d see him again. But first, he had to do what he’d come to Islay for. He ran his bloodied hand through his long, straight brown hair, leaving a smudge of red on his forehead.
How long will it be, before I’m strong enough to strike again? Because if I don’t kill Sarah Midnight, it’ll be the end of us all.
47
Poison
Ceilings heavy with memories
Walls thick with years
Never silent, always whispering
The births and deaths of generations gone.
Listen when I beg the old house
Let your children go
Sean
This house is poisoned, if you ask me. I know Sarah has been fantasizing about living here, but it is so full of sorrow, so full of ghosts. If it was me, I’d knock it down and let nothing but weeds grow on its foundations. I’m still reeling from Sarah’s revelations about her aunt’s murder. The Midnights are even worse than Harry let on. I wonder if he knew – his father certainly did.
It’s Christmas Eve. Sarah is in the kitchen now, cooking away. In a crisis, Sarah cooks – that’s what she does. We decided to stay on Islay for a little while longer.
“What would be the point of going?” Sarah had said. “Wherever we go, the Surari will follow us. We might as well face them.”
I looked to Elodie, who, unexpectedly, echoed Sarah’s words. “No more running away,” she whispered as she turned away from me.
Ever since our kiss on the beach, there has been an awkwardness between Elodie and me. I can’t help thinking that she’s not really longing for me, but for Harry’s ghost, Harry’s memory. When I catch her looking at me I am afraid, because I can never feel that way for her. She doesn’t deserve any more heartache after all she’s been through. I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t help being in love with Sarah.
There, I said it. It was no secret, after all. I’m in love with Sarah, and that’s never going to change.
I can feel this house humming, vibrating with what’s to come. We’re all jumpy, nerves taut under the skin, waiting. The Midnight ghosts are all around us, and sometimes I think they’re closing in on us; and so, we have to presume, are the Surari. Any time now, they will strike.
So here the rest of us are, counting the hours trickling slowly one after the other, with Sarah sorting cutlery and polishing silver obsessively. As Niall whispered to me, while we prepared the vegetables exactly the way Sarah instructed us, we are like the orchestra on the Titanic, playing on as the ship is about to sink.
Sarah brushes past me on some errand, running upstairs. The light of the multi-coloured window plays in her hair, and the hand she leans on the banister is raw and bleeding.
48
The Blood Is Strong
A mother’s call
To keep you safe in times to come
Sarah knelt in front of the fire in her bedroom again, as if in front of an altar, and the box of letters clutched to her chest was the sacrificial offering.
The wood flamed wildly in the grate. This was the second time in her life she was burning something her family had inflicted on her. First her dream diary, the black-bound book where she had recorded her first four years of dreaming, and now her grandmother’s letters.
One by one they went into the fire to be engulfed in flames. And then it was the turn of the loose pieces of paper scattered in the bottom of the box. She was determined that there would be nothing left. Sarah started scrunching them up and placing them into the fire too, but before she completed the task, one of them caught her eye.
Amelia,
I have to ask you to stop writing. You disgust me. I will do nothing to help you. You are one of those irresponsible, foolish people who one day will cause the demise of the Secret Families. To think I’ve defended you over and over again. To think I’ve taken your side over Angus, and all along you were having a relationship with a Lay. All your powers will go to waste. You won’t be able to pass them on to your children, the little bastards you’ll have with that Lay. You knew what you were doing. We all know that we female heirs can only ever marry Secret men or our children will be worthless Lays. You knew that. And still, you did it, you deceived your fiancé, which was bad enough – and me, believing it had been him who did you wrong! And you betrayed him with a disgusting little Lay. A servant, moreover.
Amelia, you’re dead to me. Never, never look to me again for friendship. I hope you, your Lay and the bastard you’ve had with him burn with the Surari.
Morag Elspeth McGregor Midnight
Midnight Hall
Sarah trembled in anger. It was just as Winter had said. So much cruelty, so much grief inflicted on everyone around Morag. The irony of all ironies: her grandmother passing judgement on Amelia for having fallen in love with a Lay when she herself had committed the unforgivable crime of murder. Murder of her own daughter.
She checked through the rest of the papers in the box, wondering why Morag had the letters she had sent to Amelia. She could only find one explanation: her uncle Stewart. He must have received the letters from Amelia and then given them to Winter’s mother after Morag’s death, knowing that she would keep them safe. Mrs Shaw would never have dreamt of taking anything from the house. Her job was much too important to take a risk like that.
Stewart Midnight. I wish I’d known you.
Other memories flooded back. Sarah thought of her dad, James, of how inflexible, how hard he could be. How her mum would never disagree with him, how Bryony and her other friends had always been a little scared of him. James is the one who takes after me the most, Morag had written.
I wonder if I take after her. Am I like my father? How quick, how merciless she’d been in sending Sean away when she’d found out about his deceit. She closed her eyes, remembering how close she had come to using the Blackwater on him. And the rage she’d been feeling inside for so long, the desire to burn and kill and destroy. Especially since Leigh had been murdered. Does that make me like them?
Sarah was shaking with the strength of her emotions. Unshed tears were prickling behind her eyes, but she knew they couldn’t find release.
There was no time. She and her friends would have their Christmas, their bizarre celebration, holding the future at bay a little longer. And then eventually she would pack, and leave. She would do what she was meant to do, and not look back.
She grabbed the rest of the papers with both hands and went to thrust them into the fire. But something colourful among the scraps of paper caught her eye. It was a stamp. A New Zealand stamp, on a scrunched-up blue envelope. Something – a feeling, a hunch – made her place it on the rug and smooth it out.
There was a name on it, written in faded blue ink: Stewart Midnight.
Sarah took a deep breath. More discoveries?
She shook her head, and crinkled the letter again. I can’t take this anymore. It’s too much. She raised her hand to throw it into the fireplace.
And then she stopped. It’s to Stewart, though, not Amelia. Winter said she trusted him. This letter might be different than the others.
On impulse, she took the letter out of the envelope, smoothed it the best she could, and read. And her life once again changed forever.
Dear Stewart,
I’m begging you to help me. Your mother won’t have anything to do with me, and I don’t know what to do. Allan died last year, and I’m very ill. Our son, Sean, is going to be raised by Allan’s parents, whose hatred for me is only matched by the indifference they feel for Sean. For the long friendship between our Families, the friendship that your mother wants to end because of what I did, I’m begging you to find Sean one day, and help him to become a Gamekeeper. I never want him to know that he’s half-Lay, half-Secret – I can’t bear to inflict this shame on him, and to have him exiled, stigmatized, tormented as I was, as his father was. I want his life to be happy and without shadows. I want him to be proud of himself in a way I couldn’t be, having betrayed my family. Don’t get me wrong, I’d do it all again for love of Allan. I’d do it again a million times over.
Please find Sean for me one day. He is my precious son, and I know that he can play his part in our battles. Make sure he’s alright, make sure he finds his place in the world. And never, never tell him of my shame.
You’re my only hope.
Yours,
Amelia Campbell Hannay.
“Oh, God.”
“What’s up? All OK?” Hearing her curse, Niall had poked his head in from the hall. Sarah shook her head, putting a hand up to silence him. She read the letter again, and once more.
Sean. Amelia’s son. In New Zealand.
Sean’s parents died when he was a child. He was raised by his grandparents.
Allan Hannay’s son.
Sean Hannay.
“Sarah?”
“Yes. Yes.” She took a deep breath and clutched the letter to her chest. “I’ve found a very special letter, Niall.”
“And important it looks too,” he mocked half-heartedly, sensing her mood.
Sarah nodded. “Yes. Very important. Have you seen Sean?” she added in a trembling voice.
“I think he’s in the kitchen.”
Sarah looked at him, wide-eyed. “I can’t explain now. I’ll tell you later,” she whispered, and ran off.
Sean was lost in thought, looking out of the kitchen window into the lilac sky, nursing a cup of steaming coffee. He smiled when Sarah came to stand beside him, but his smile faded when he saw her serious expression.
“Sean,” she said. “I need to speak to you.”
49
Look Behind You
There’s more than one way to forget
Whether it’s you or myself that I hurt
Every drop of blood
Is a memory gone
“Nicholas,” whispered Elodie. They watched as Sean and Sarah emerged from the kitchen and stood together at the edge of the garden, where the grass ended and the sand began, out on their own to speak in private. The bond between Sean and Sarah, the pull between them, was so strong that it was nearly visible, a silver chain tying them together. Elodie and Nicholas watched as Sean stepped back and put his head in his hands, and Sarah reached out to him.
When Sean and Sarah were finally in each other’s arms, Elodie grew pale, and at first Nicholas didn’t show any visible emotion. He stood still and silent, looking on as if it didn’t matter. But inside him it was like old times, like the Nicholas he used to be. He had an irresistible urge to destroy something, anything. To kill and maim, to inflict on someone else the pain he was feeling. Suddenly he raised his hand, and the ravens were with him once more. At once, there was a symphony of whispers in his head – calls, and greetings, and congratulations. The speed of the reaction stunned him. Nicholas is back, they said.
Startled, Elodie watched the ravens circle above their heads with dark, liquid eyes. Then she turned to him, as if something fundamental had changed in her life too. “Do this for me,” she said, and rolled up her sleeve, exposing her white, delicate arm. “Ask the ravens to help me forget.”
Nicholas stared at her. What was she thinking? “I don’t understand,” he whispered. I don’t want to understand.
Her arm was tiny, her skin was too thin, and still there were no veins to be seen, as if she’d been bled already. Her blood isn’t flowing properly, thought Nicholas. Once more, he had seen something in Elodie’s eyes that he wished wasn’t there.
“Ask them to hurt me, to make me forget.”
Nicholas was horrified. “Don’t ask me to do that, Elodie.”
“Why? It wouldn’t be the first time you make your ravens hurt someone.”
Nicholas continued to stare at her. What does she know? What has she guessed? “Demons. Not Secret heirs.”
“I’m not asking you to kill me. Just help me take the pain away,” she pleaded, fixing her eyes on his. Her look reminded Nicholas of someone. Someone spent, tired of living.
Then he remembered. His mother.
At that moment, the fury he’d felt watching Sarah and Sean holding each other faded as quickly as it had come. If he hated anyone, it was himself. He closed his eyes. What was happening to him? His thoughts whirled, rearranging themselves in his head, contradicting each other, making no sense. He wouldn’t kill anymore, he wouldn’t hurt again. He needed to get away.
“They can see us,” he whispered, and led Elodie round the side of the house, across a little dirt road and up onto a grassy mound. They stood overlooking the ocean, screaming seagulls in the grey sky above.
“What happened to you, Elodie?” he asked, taking her by the shoulders.
“Harry died,” she answered simply.
She’s as soft, as white as a dove – but she’s black inside, I can feel it. Too much pain, too much anger.
“Sean won’t bring him back. Look, Elodie. Don’t go trying to get hurt, because believe me, we’ll all get hurt soon enough.”
“I don’t really care if I live or die. I want to do what Harry asked of me. Of us. I want to destroy the Enemy.” The chorus of screams and whispers in Nicholas’s head got louder all of a sudden. “And then I won’t have anything left to live for.” She gave him a bleak smile.
The ravens had caught them up. They had chased away the seagulls and were flying in circles over their heads, cawing. A few of them landed and hopped beside them, their little heads tipping from left to right, awaiting instructions. Nicholas felt his fingertips tingle. Suddenly, he knew exactly what was about to happen.
Let us taste her.
“Let’s go back. Now.” He took Elodie by the arm and began pulling her down the path. The terrible chorus in his head kept calling. Let us finish what we started on the beach. Let us taste her. Let us.
More ravens landed in front of Nicholas and Elodie, blocking their way down the path – a sea of feathery black, dotted with hungry eyes. No! Nicholas protested silently. But it was too late. He barely had time to call Elodie’s name, when the ravens took to the air, and, quicker than the eye could see, they were on her. Elodie screamed and fell to her knees, a moving blanket of black, oily feathers smothering her. In seconds drops of her blood began to stain the ground.
Stop!
Why? Why do you want them to stop, Nicholas?
It was his father’s voice.
Nicholas clutched his head in his hands, the blinding pain of the brain fury ravaging him all of a sudden – just a hint, not its full force, but painful enough.
“Nicholas!” Elodie called desperately, trying to beat the ravens away from her eyes with her arms. Her body was crawling with birds, black and crimson mixing in a terrible kaleidoscope on the ground.
You need to stop, now.
But the ravens wouldn’t listen. They were ruled by a higher power now, one they had no choice but to obey.
“Nicholas!” she implored again, her strangled voice muffled in the grass.
Leave her. Leave her! Nicholas looked around in desperation as blast after blast of pain shot through his head. And then he thought of something, the only argument he could use. They will find out who I really am!
They will know soon anyway, came the reply.
Despair filled Nicholas’s heart. There was nothing else he could do. The ravens were going to peck Elodie to death, just as they’d done to Cathy, as they’d tried to do to Elodie once before.
His moans of pain as the brain fury burnt in his head echoed Elodie’s.
But not yet.
A sudden gust of air hit Nicholas, followed by the sound of beating wings far too close. When he opened his eyes, he was astonished to see the ravens flying back into the sky. His father must have called them back.
He threw himself beside Elodie’s bloodied body, ignoring the agonizing pain in his head.
“Oh, Elodie,” he murmured.
She couldn’t hear him. She was lying curled up, unconscious. Quickly he gathered her in his arms and ran towards the house, bracing himself for attack every time he heard a distant cawing, his head still sore from his father’s punishment.
Only Niall was in the kitchen when Nicholas pushed the door open and staggered in, and he paled at what he saw. Nicholas’s voice was croaky, broken. “The ravens again.”
Quickly Niall took Elodie from him, horrified as her blood began to stain his chest and arms. “The ravens? Your ravens?” He sat down on the settle next to the range, careful not to jostle her.
“It was me who saved her,” Nicholas said brusquely. You’ll know the truth soon, Niall, but not yet.
And then Elodie opened her eyes, and from the shelter of Niall’s arms, she called a name. But it wasn’t Niall’s, and it wasn’t Sean’s.
“Nicholas.”
Disbelief showed on Nicholas’s face. She called me. Me. He looked at Niall, then into Elodie’s battered face. “I’m here,” he said hoarsely.
“Have the ravens gone?” she whispered.
“Yes. They’ve gone. You’re safe.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you.”
“Shhhh. Don’t speak now,” he said, resting a hand on her head. The look between them was so intense that Niall frowned, sensing something unspoken in the air. He was about to speak when Sarah stepped into the kitchen. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but they widened when she saw the strange scene – Niall with a bleeding Elodie in his arms, Nicholas’s hands covered in blood, his hair matted with it.
“What happened? Was it the demon-bird again?”
“No. No. Elodie and I … We went for a walk. It was the ravens.”
“The … ravens? I don’t understand.” And then Sarah saw Elodie’s ravaged skin. “Oh my God.” She took the girl’s bloodied hand.
Nicholas’s words tumbled over each other as he struggled to find a way to explain. “Sarah. The ravens have turned. The Surari control them now. They don’t do my bidding anymore. If you see ravens or wildcats, you must be very careful.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why?” said Niall. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“What do you mean?” asked Nicholas.
“Why have the ravens turned against you, Nicholas?”
“How should I know? I don’t know anything more than you, Niall!” he growled.
“Nicholas.” Sarah walked over to where he was standing and put a soothing hand on his arm.
I know. You don’t need to tell me. You’ve made your decision. You’re leaving me. You and Sean are together now. “Where is Sean?” he asked, bracing himself for the answer.
But it wasn’t the one he’d expected.
“I don’t know. I have no idea,” Sarah replied, avoiding his gaze, her voice strained.
Nicholas looked at her, surprised, but she would not meet his eyes. Something must have happened between them, it’s not what Elodie and I thought we saw.
A huge wave of relief swept over him– and at the same time he realized that the pain in his head had vanished. There was no more screaming in his mind, no more reproaches, and no more brain fury. He staggered slightly, overwhelmed by the sense of escape. Somehow, by some miracle, his father and the Shadow voices must have believed him when he said he needed the ravens to protect his secret by letting Elodie survive the attack. They couldn’t have known that Nicholas genuinely wanted to save Elodie’s life. They must have sensed Nicholas’s rage and despair when Sean and Sarah embraced, the rush of blood thirst. They must have believed that his doubts about his place in the Shadow World had vanished, that the old Nicholas was back. But he wasn’t out of danger yet.
In an instant, Nicholas closed his mind to his true feelings and replaced any hint of relief with images of Elodie in pain, prostrated on the grass, screaming. He invoked memories of hatred, of darkness, of the people he had hurt and killed over the years – he filled his mind with all that his father wanted him to be. The Shadow World needed to believe that he was still on their side. This would buy him a bit more time.
“I’m going to take Elodie to her room,” said Niall, gently lifting her into his arms again. “Sarah?”
“I’ll get the med stuff,” Sarah replied, and hurried out.
Nicholas went to follow, but Niall gave him a withering look. “No need for you to come,” he said firmly. But before he had left the kitchen, the injured girl spoke.
“Nicholas,” called Elodie softly.
“I’m here,” he said. “I’m coming.”
And there’s nothing Niall can do about it.
*
Niall laid Elodie on her bed and Sarah saw to her wounds. They both flinched when they saw what the ravens had done to her back, pierced with tiny lacerations, her flesh shredded, the skin hanging loose in little bloody flaps.
“Tell me exactly what happened, Elodie,” Sarah asked gently as she bathed the wounds.
Elodie struggled to speak, such was the pain. Her breathing was shallow. “We were walking. They attacked me. Like they did on the beach that day. Maybe I’m marked. A mark that only they can see.” She shivered, thinking back to the swan she’d seen many years before, in her childhood.
She had gone for a walk on a lakeshore with her parents; before her father could lead her away, before her mother could shield her eyes, she’d seen a dead swan, its chest torn open, lying bloodied on the pebbles. And right there and then, she’d had a premonition – that one day, she’d be the swan. One day she’d be the one lying there.
“Nonsense. You’re not any more marked than the rest of us,” Niall said, stroking her hair with a gentleness that made Nicholas’s heart tighten. “I used to dream of ravens when I was a boy. They weren’t nice dreams. I hate ravens,” Niall continued.
Elodie yelped as Sarah dabbed at her wounds. “Is everybody else safe?” she asked. “Where is Mike? Where is Sean?”
Sarah flinched. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Try and lie still.”
Niall walked to the window and looked at the sky. “The ravens are still out there,” he said in a low voice, “and so is that bloody demon-bird, and who knows what else. Sean can’t go wandering off on his own like this. I’ll find Mike and we’ll go and bring him back.” He placed a kiss on Elodie’s forehead and strode out of the room.
“Take care!” Sarah called after him.
“Will do!” His footsteps faded into the distance, and then they heard him calling Mike’s name.
“Sarah. What happened between you and Sean?” whispered Elodie after a few moments, her voice muffled by her pillow.
Nicholas’s heart skipped a beat. He waited.
Sarah shook her head, concentrating on the task at hand. “Nothing happened. And nothing ever will.” She kept her eyes solely on Elodie’s wounds, then she pulled the bedclothes carefully up to the nape of her friend’s neck. “Rest now, Elodie. If you need me, just shout and I’ll be straight up. Thank God you’re safe,” she added, and a rare look of affection passed between the two girls.
“Are you OK?” She then asked Nicholas, unable to read the look in his eyes.
He nodded. “Yes. I’ll sit here with Elodie for a bit. If that’s OK with you.”
“Yes. Stay,” murmured Elodie. She lay as white as a sheet, her eyes feverish with pain.
We have done this to her, thought Nicholas in despair.
He made a promise to himself. Never again would he be part of the King of Shadows’ world of pain.
50
Threshold
Same planet, two dimensions
The love that wasn’t meant to be
Sarah
Just when I was about to make my choice, just when I was about to tell Sean that I was ready, that I knew what love was at last, he told me that he’d abide by the rules.
Secret women cannot marry Lay men.
Sean and I can never be together.
But none of those rules make any sense to me now. Everything has changed, the old order of things has crumbled. None of us is who we thought we were, and still, Sean is clinging to the old world as if its laws still stand.
I tried to tell him that it makes no difference to me whether he is a Lay, or half-Secret, or even an Elemental, for all that matters. I don’t care whose blood runs through his veins – he is Sean. My Sean.
But in the garden today, once I’d explained what I’d discovered in the letter, he told me that he believes in the rigid structure on which the Secret Families base their existence. He told me he agrees with Morag that the powers Secret Families hold should be nourished and protected, and that we should breed among ourselves and not dilute our powers. Yes, breed, like pedigree dogs, or prized cattle. When I protested that I didn’t care about my powers, he said that he couldn’t bear to be responsible for the loss of the Blackwater. That I should marry Nicholas, or Niall, or any other surviving Secret heir, but that it could never, ever be him. Never anyone with Lay blood in them.
He held me one last time, and then he walked away.
Nicholas came into my room as I was trying to gather my thoughts.
“Sarah.” He took my hands in his, and without warning he tried to kiss me.
I turned away. “I’m sorry,” I heard myself saying.
I think he understood at once.
To see the devastation in his face broke my heart, but at least I wasn’t living a lie anymore. If Sean and I could never be together, I didn’t believe I could ever love anyone else. I couldn’t deceive Nicholas any longer. I couldn’t deceive myself any longer.
“I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you to change your mind,” he said, clutching my hand.
I had never seen him like this. “Nicholas, I’m sorry, but I won’t.”
“Sean,” he growled.
“No. There’s no one. There can never be anyone, Nicholas. I’m a Midnight, and believe me, it’s a lot better for everyone if the Midnight line stops here with me.”
51
And Then I Found You
Watch while what was in the dark
Is cast into the light
Watch while the secrets we kept
Don’t choke us anymore
While Elodie rested and Sarah and Nicholas talked upstairs, the others were gathered in the living room. Sean and Mike were chatting quietly by the fireplace; Niall was lying on one of the sofas, his arms crossed behind his head; Winter, having entered while Niall and Nicholas moved Elodie upstairs, was sitting in an armchair near the window, as if she wanted to be halfway between inside and outside, near the freedom of the windy beach. She had tucked her legs under herself, and her silver hair was flowing freely down to her waist. With the moonlight shining on her, her eyes gleamed silver too. She’d been spending a lot of time at Midnight Hall – just like when her mother was the housekeeper there, and she had played with Mairead every day.
Niall was trying to catch glimpses of her when he thought nobody noticed, but Winter knew, of course. She was quite aware of the effect she had on the opposite sex. There was something wild and beautiful about her that never failed to entrance.
“Will you come and explore with me, Niall?” she said suddenly, her clear gaze on him and a smile playing on her lips. Mike stifled a smile, his eyes darting from one to the other. What was happening, what had been slowly happening since Winter had arrived on the scene, was clear for everyone to see. Unlike Sarah, Winter was an open book, her feelings and desires always plain for everyone to see.
“I haven’t been in the grand hall for years. I want to see what it looks like now,” she continued.
Niall rose at once. “Sure thing!”
Upon seeing him so eager, Mike couldn’t suppress his smile any longer.
“Let’s go, then,” said Winter sweetly, and Niall’s cheeks flamed scarlet.
“Have fun,” called Mike mock-seriously. Niall ignored him.
“This place is huge,” Niall murmured as they stepped out into the corridor. “It’s at least double the size of our family home in Skerry.”
“It’s at least fifty times bigger than my cottage!” laughed Winter.
“But a lot smaller than the sea,” said Niall.
“True,” Winter replied softly. “When I was little Mairead and I used to roam around this place for days on end,” she continued as they walked. “Playing hide and seek here was just brilliant, we wouldn’t find each other for hours!” Winter laughed her lyrical laugh. “Come. I want to show you something.”
She took his hand, entwining her fingers with his – Niall felt something warm stirring in his chest, and held onto her. She led him down the corridor to a wooden door, and pushed it open.
“The library,” said Niall.
“How did you guess?” she laughed, gesturing at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves full of leather-bound volumes of all shapes and sizes.
“I’m very observant!” He winked.
Niall scoured the shelves. “I’ve never seen such a collection before. Botany, astronomy. Oh.”
“What do you see?”
Niall laughed. “A modern book. Yoga Workouts. Do you think Morag Midnight did yoga?” He grinned, holding up a pink-and-yellow-covered book with a woman sitting in the lotus position.
Winter laughed too. “Maybe Hamish.” Her eyes danced. “What is it doing here?”
“It probably belonged to Sarah’s mum.” Niall fingered the soft covers, walking slowly from shelf to shelf. “Some of these are five hundred years old,” he said in awe.
“Look,” said Winter, pointing to a thick black volume. “The History of the Midnight Family by Lord Gregor Midnight. One for Sarah.”
“Ideal bedtime reading,” smirked Niall. “Oh,” he said, crossing his arms and looking up.
“What’s the matter?”
“That book up there, see?” Winter raised her chin, flicking her hair away from her neck. A gust of her seawater scent wafted towards Niall’s face and he breathed her in deeply, glancing at her white throat as she looked up. “Between Two Worlds,” he said, trying to regain composure. “I want to have a look at that.”
Winter looked around. “There should be a ladder somewhere, or at least there used to be.”
“There!” Spying the wooden ladder, Niall positioned it and started to climb, stretching himself until his fingers brushed the book he wanted.
He wiped the dust off the cover with his sleeve and opened the first page. An intricate label had been glued on it. Midnight, it said in Gothic fonts. He climbed down and handed the book to Winter. She traced the deeply engraved letters on the cover with a finger.
“Come,” said Niall, and took her hand. He led her to the sofa by the window. “Ouch! The Midnights’ idea of comfort was quite … different,” he complained as he sat on the rigid leather surface, hitting the backrest.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” whispered Winter as she sat beside him. “When my mum was housekeeper here they had no hot water. At all. Ever. They all took cold showers and baths. They bathed the babies in water from the stove, but as soon as they were toddlers, cold baths for them too! It wouldn’t bother us, of course, but if you’re not of the sea like us …”
Niall whistled. “Tough people.”
“Mmmm. You can say that again. So. Between Two Worlds,” said Winter, resting the book on her lap. She shuffled a bit until her leg was touching Niall’s.
She couldn’t be any closer if she sat on my lap, thought Niall, a bit panicky. But Winter seemed not to notice his embarrassment.
Get a grip, man, Niall scolded himself.
He leafed through the pages. “This is about demons.” He paled. “Do you know anything about demons and the Secret history?”
“Not much. I saw a few demons, and Stewart told me things once in a while, but I’m mostly ignorant. I never hung out with Secret people, apart from Mairead and Stewart. And when I went away, I was mainly among seals, really.”
“Were you not lonely?”
“Well, there were a few friends, a few boyfriends,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Of course.” Niall scowled.
“Why ‘of course’?” asked Winter.
“Because you’re beautiful,” he said simply. You really are beautiful, he thought, taking in her silver hair, her strong, warm body in a slightly faded blue cotton dress with little white flowers – her pink cheeks and shiny eyes, a face that spoke of easy joy and laughter, unlike Sarah’s and Elodie’s.
“Well, thank you,” she said, and gave him a little peck on the cheek.
Niall swallowed.
“So yes. Anyway. This book …” He continued skimming through it, his eyes scanning the words. Suddenly he froze.
Winter looked at him curiously. “What’s wrong?”
“This mentions the Time of Demons,” he breathed. “The gate between the worlds.” He started to read more frantically. “Have you heard about the Shadow World, or the Underworld?”
“The underworld, as in under ground?”
“Not exactly, no. According to this, the Shadow World is …a different dimension. A different universe.” He stopped briefly then began to read aloud. “The demons that seep into our world cross over to our own dimension. Apparently, it’s not easy for them to do so. Only the strongest survive the passage.”
“But why do they do that?”
“The earth belonged to them, thousands of years ago. That was the Time of Demons. We humans were the endangered species, if you like.”
Winter smiled. “You, humans. I’m half Elemental.”
“So you are,” replied Niall, resting a hand briefly on her arm. Though it only lasted a moment, he loved touching her, feeling her warm skin. And he loved her smell – the sea was his favourite scent in the world.
Niall steadied himself and continued reading. “Then the ancestors of the Secret Families, the Secret children, appeared. They claimed the planet and banished the demons to the Shadow World. But the Secret Families knew that they had to keep guard, and that the demons would try and overcome them again.” He paused. “That’s happening now.”
“Who is the King of Shadows?” asked Winter suddenly. She’d skimmed over his shoulder while he spoke, and now pointed to a passage farther down the page.
Niall frowned, his eyes following her finger. A sudden chill swept over him, despite the proximity of Winter’s warm body. “The King of Shadows, the King of the Underworld. He has many names,” he read. “The most powerful demon of all. The one who rules the Shadow World.”
Winter continued, “The King of Shadows is a Surari, but unlike any other. Legend has it that he is a spirit who rules over a world of spirits. He is bound to the Shadow World but his will and power reaches into our own. It is rumoured that a gate to the Shadow World exists and can be entered through an ancient location, though no one has yet succeeded in finding it.”
Winter trailed off. For a moment they sat in silence. Then Niall shook his head, gathering his thoughts and taking it all in. “We have to tell the others.” He took a shaky breath.
Winter got up and stood very, very close to him.
Niall blushed. She just came up to his shoulder, and Niall wasn’t a tall man. Only then did he seem to notice how small she was.
“We need to—”
But he didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence, because suddenly Winter was kissing him, and everything else, for a moment, didn’t matter.
52
Between Two Worlds
We worship the moon and our herds
Our home is the plains
Our roof is the sky
We rise, we are
The Secret children
With pots boiling on the stove, and a lovely smell coming from the oven, it was like any other kitchen at Christmas. And Sarah was hoping to keep it that way, at least for one day. She was arranging a centrepiece made of red candles and holly as Niall and Winter barged in. The moment she saw their faces, she knew something had happened. The Christmas decoration seemed so absurd all of a sudden, like a little raft in a stormy sea, a desperate attempt to hold on to some normality.
“Hey, man. Are you OK?” called Mike, noticing how pale Niall was.
“Not really,” said Niall, and lifted the book for everyone to see.
“Between Two Worlds,” read Sean, taking the leather-bound volume from him. “What’s this?”
“We found it in the library,” Winter intervened.
“Look here,” said Niall, opening to the page he and Winter had read.
Sean and Sarah crowded around him.
Niall read the relevant parts aloud, and the kitchen fell silent.
“The King of Shadows. That is what you said during the scrying spell, remember, Sarah? The King of Shadows is coming,” said Sean.
Sarah’s face was white. She nodded. “The Enemy is the King of Shadows.”
“There’s more,” said Niall. “Listen. It is rumoured that a gate to the Shadow World exists and can be entered, though no one has yet succeeded in finding it. A gate. A gate to the Shadow World.”
“So we know who he is, and where he is! What’s stopping us?” Mike exclaimed.
“We need to go and find him. It’s as simple as that,” stated Sean, lost in thought.
Sarah was silent.
“Sarah,” Niall said gently. She was standing still, the certain stillness that descended on her sometimes.
“Yes,” she said finally. “Yes. We need to go, but how will we know where to find him? Shouldn’t we think this through?”
“I agree with Sarah,” came Nicholas’s voice from the corner of the room. “We need to think about this, calmly. In the morning. We’ll leave when we know more about what we’re dealing with.” He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken as Niall and Winter spoke. They had forgotten all about his presence. But he’d been standing there all along, hands curled into fists to stop them from shaking, trying to quell the fear racing through him.
“Nicholas is right, we can’t leave till we know where we’re going. Might as well enjoy the evening, and all this.” She swept her arm towards the boiling pots and pans, the gently glowing oven roasting the sweet-smelling turkey.
Sarah looked to Sean, her face solemn, pleading.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
Mike put his hands up. “But—”
“Mike,” said Nicholas in a low voice. “We need to figure out what’s happening.”
“I suppose so,” Mike agreed reluctantly.
A look passed between Sarah and Sean, a look laden with meaning. The storm is coming, were their unspoken words.
Nicholas stepped out into the frozen afternoon air. He’d muttered something about needing a walk – he often did that, and nobody questioned it. He stood on the watermark, the wind whipping against him. He was shaking badly, anxiety was sweeping through him and devouring his thoughts, leaving a black knot of fear growing in his stomach.
They’ll know soon. They’ll know who I am.
But now, I know who I am. It doesn’t matter. Not to them, anyway.
A strange elation took him, easing his anxiety. He turned back towards the house – he could see the lights of the kitchen, and the silhouettes of Sarah and her friends moving within. One of the windows upstairs was lit too: Elodie’s room. She’d gone back there to lie down for a while.
The waves ebbed and flowed, the water winter-dark, hiding what lay in wait beneath its surface.