Betrayal - BK 2

by Gillian Shields

  Gillian Shields

  Betrayal

  For my parents,

  Pat and Bob Davison, with love

  When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned, and the flames will not harm you.

  —Isaiah 43:2

  Contents

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  My name is Evie Johnson. I am sixteen and a scholarship…

  One

  The holidays were over. Outside the window of the cottage,…

  Two

  Dad and I traveled together as far as London, where…

  Three

  It’s because I love you that I had to tell…

  Four

  I woke suddenly from a deep dream. Someone was talking…

  Five

  Evie—my words die, my body trembles, my heart is cursed.

  Six

  I was back at Wyldcliffe, and it was all about…

  Seven

  I reached the gloomy dining hall with its rows of…

  Eight

  Waiting—waiting—waiting—

  Nine

  I was waiting.

  Ten

  So where do you want to begin?” asked Helen.

  Eleven

  It is so dark here, Evie.

  Twelve

  I couldn’t forget Sebastian, not for a single moment. He…

  Thirteen

  Agnes?” As I stepped closer, I realized that this girl…

  Fourteen

  I hear the clock strike three. There is no rest…

  Fifteen

  It was getting late. The short winter day was coming…

  Sixteen

  I have been buried out of sight, here in this…

  Seventeen

  The snow had thawed overnight and the country lanes had…

  Eighteen

  Uppercliffe Farm. It was hardly more than a ruined cottage,…

  Nineteen

  We stood in silent rows in the dining hall and…

  Twenty

  The days raced by in a dream and the nights…

  Twenty-One

  I am back here, in my living tomb.

  Twenty-Two

  I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry.” I lifted my…

  Twenty-Three

  Look!” I waved my hand and filled the attic with…

  Twenty-Four

  Do you grow weary of your poor friend? I saw…

  Twenty-Five

  It was the start of another joyless week without Sebastian.

  Twenty-Six

  Miss Scratton, you remember that we couldn’t go inside Fairfax…

  Twenty-Seven

  I stooped to pick up the round, silvery object from…

  Twenty-Eight

  Time was running out. The silver watch that Sebastian had…

  Twenty-Nine

  How many more days and night can I linger here,…

  Thirty

  Over the next few days we searched for the Book…

  Thirty-One

  As silently as a ghost, I entered the staff common…

  Thirty-Two

  Silence.

  Thirty-Three

  The next morning Helen had to shake me from sleep.

  Thirty-Four

  I had never seen Miss Raglan so angry.

  Thirty-Five

  A memory stirs in the darkness—

  Thirty-Six

  In my dream it is snowing and I am outside…

  Thirty-Seven

  I tried everything. Every night I tried a different charm…

  Thirty-Eight

  The birds were beginning to call to one another as…

  Thirty-Nine

  I am alone.

  Forty

  This was how it had all started, slipping down the…

  Forty-One

  Now the house seemed full of menacing, unnamed threats. I…

  Forty-Two

  The birds were awake and the sky was getting light.

  Forty-Three

  Everything on the third floor was quiet, apart from the…

  Forty-Four

  Sebastian?”

  Forty-Five

  We were thrown out of the whirlwind onto a barren…

  Forty-Six

  I held the Talisman up and called out, “Lord of…

  Forty-Seven

  The storm was over. The women of the coven had…

  Forty-Eight

  This is the day. This is now.

  Forty-Nine

  Little by little, I was coming back to life. All…

  Fifty

  There were still a few weeks left before the end…

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Gillian Shields

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  My name is Evie Johnson. I am sixteen and a scholarship student at Wyldcliffe Abbey School for Young Ladies. Yes, the famous school hidden away on the bleak moors, where the wind sighs over the hills and the heather blooms under the wide, restless sky. Everyone’s heard of Wyldcliffe. Everyone says how lucky I am.

  What else do you want to know? Favorite subjects—history and English. Best sport—swimming. I adore Italian food, and hot chocolate, and the sound of the waves on the shore. All perfectly ordinary. Except that my boyfriend, Sebastian, is dead.

  Sebastian James Fairfax. Nineteen years old, dark hair, blue eyes, a smile like an angel; poet; philosopher; my first, my only love…beautiful, beautiful Sebastian.

  When I say dead, I don’t mean because of a tragic car accident or some cruel illness. I mean something so different, so off-the-scale different that you can’t imagine it. Sebastian is dead, and yet Sebastian is alive. Sebastian loves me, yet Sebastian is my enemy. I am alone, but I have my friends—my sisters.

  Sometimes I have to remind myself that everything that happened to me last term was true, and that my story isn’t over yet. I have to keep on, right to the end, whatever that might be. I have to believe that Sebastian won’t betray me.

  There are many kinds of betrayals. There are the small ones: the unkind word, the laughter behind someone’s back, the petty lies. And there are the betrayals that break hearts, destroy worlds, and turn the strong, sweet light of day into bitter dust.

  One

  The holidays were over. Outside the window of the cottage, the winter dawn was cold and gray. The bare tips of the straggling rosebushes in Frankie’s garden were nipped by frost. Tomorrow I wouldn’t wake up in this familiar room, to the cry of seagulls wheeling out over the bay. Tomorrow everything would be different. I was going back to school. I was going back to Wyldcliffe.

  My suitcase was stuffed with presents that Dad had awkwardly, tenderly forced on me. I hadn’t wanted anything, but he had insisted. And so, apart from my school uniform and my textbooks and gym clothes, my luggage also contained a new camera and a whole lot of expensive gear for the riding lessons he had persuaded me to take when I got back to school.

  It was as though he had been trying to make up for the pain of the first Christmas without Frankie. The only mother I had ever known, Frankie had been my darling grandmother, who had looked after me since I was a baby. Now she was gone, and Dad was trying to buy me some comfort to cushion the loss. Only a year ago, Frankie’s death would have been overwhelming. But Wyldcliffe had changed me. I was stronger now, not simply a schoolkid anymore. Wyldcliffe had taught me about fear and danger and death.

  It had taught me about love.

  Frankie’s funeral had been a few days before Christmas, in the church on the headland, with the sound of the sea sighing below the cliffs. I didn’t cry. I just felt quieter than I ever
had before, cut off in a circle of silence, as though the little gathering of well-wishers and neighbors, and the vicar and the hymns and the flowers, were nothing to do with me or Frankie. She had gone, like a bird flying into the dawn, and all the rest was a soothing ritual for the people left behind. But Dad was really upset. Afterward, when everyone had drifted away murmuring clichés and condolences, he blew his nose and wiped his red eyes like the gruff soldier he pretended to be, and said, “Sorry, Evie, it brought back everything about Clara…your mom…sorry…”

  He was remembering my mother’s funeral, fifteen years ago. I had no memory of it, of course. I was only a baby when she died. Sorry, Dad said, so sorry, and loaded me up with presents that I didn’t really want. Then the days had slipped past, tender with grief, until it was time for me to return to school and leave the gulls and the cliffs and the sea behind me once again.

  Now my bags were packed and ready, and the holidays were over. I was going back.

  I glanced at my little clock near the bed. The day was only just beginning, but I could already hear that Dad was up, getting ready to start the long journey to London. It was time for me to get up too, though there was someone I had to talk to before I did anything else. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater and crept out of the cottage, heading down the rocky path to the beach.

  As I hurried along, the pale sun rose from behind the clouds, spilling a wash of light on the waves. I took a deep breath. Those powerful waters gave me strength. Well, she’s always loved the sea, poor girl, the kind neighbors had said when they saw me hanging about the beach every morning, but they couldn’t guess the truth. I actually needed to be near the water, like I needed to breathe. Waking or sleeping, I heard its voice calling me, I felt it quicken my body, and I felt its restless pull. Water for Evie, Helen had said. I thought it would be like that.

  I went down to the edge of the sea and closed my eyes, giving my mind to my mystical, beautiful element. I reached out for its power, asking for what I wanted most in the whole world. The waves beating on the shore echoed in my heart and pulsed through my veins. And then he was there.

  Sebastian walked over the pebbles and came up behind me, dropping a kiss onto the back of my neck.

  “Poor Evie,” he said. “You’re sad today, my girl from the sea.”

  “Not when I’m with you.” I sighed and leaned back against his chest and nestled in his arms. Just to be close to Sebastian was happiness itself, enough to wipe out every other sorrow. “Don’t move,” I said. “I want to watch the sun on the waves.”

  We stood and watched together as the light grew stronger and the gulls swooped low.

  “I shall always think of you at sunrise after this,” Sebastian said. “You’re my sunrise, Evie, my new beginning. My life was nothing before I found you. And it would be worth nothing if I ever lost you.”

  “You’ll never lose me, Sebastian,” I replied, and for some reason I shivered. “Don’t even say it. We’ll always be together.”

  “Always,” he said quietly. “Forever.”

  I wanted to stay like that, not moving, overwhelmed by the miracle of finding each other in all the million chances of the world. But Sebastian’s mood changed in an instant and he laughed teasingly. “Aren’t you going to swim?” he asked. “I’ve heard that mermaids swim in all weather.”

  “Only if you’ll swim with me.” I laughed in reply, knowing that the water was freezing and all we could do on a cold January morning was skim stones and scramble over the rocks and hold each other for warmth, clinging together like the roses clung to the old walls of the cottage.

  “We’ll come back here in the summer to swim, Evie. And we’ll feel the sun on our faces all day long, then stay up late and make a campfire on the beach, and watch the stars wheel across the sky.”

  “It sounds perfect.”

  “Everything’s going to be perfect for us. You can tell me stories about when you were a child, and I’ll make up bad poems in praise of your beauty, and we’ll talk and wonder and laugh and put the whole world right. We’ll have this summer together, and the next, and the next…a thousand golden days, just you and me.” He held me close, and the sound of the sea seemed to hypnotize me. I no longer felt cold.

  A gull cried harshly in the white winter sky. “Come on. Let’s walk to the headland,” Sebastian said. “I want to tell you something. Something important.” He pulled my hand gently to follow him, but as I started to walk by his side, he was gone. I was alone.

  Had it been a dream, a fantasy, or a vision? I didn’t know. I only knew the pain when the dream ended, and I had to face the truth. Sebastian wasn’t there. Oh, he came to me in snatches like this, but it wasn’t enough. Before I could stop myself, I cried out, “Come back…where are you…where are you?” But there was no reply.

  I was alone, and the wind was icy, like tears falling on snow. Sebastian was far away and I didn’t know whether I would ever see him again.

  Two

  Dad and I traveled together as far as London, where we had decided to say our good-byes on the platform of King’s Cross station.

  “Take these to share with your friends,” Dad said, handing over an expensive box of chocolates. I was going to make the journey north to Wyldcliffe on my own, and Dad was returning to his duties in the army. He was still young and fit—well, not so young now, but definitely attractive—and as we waited together in those limbo moments, I wondered why he had never married again. The answer flashed into my head: Because of you, Evie, because of you…. I felt a quick pain in my heart when I thought of everything he had done for me, and I hugged him tight.

  “Have a good term.” He smiled. “And write to me.”

  “Of course. Every week.”

  “Evie…” Dad hesitated. “Promise me you’ll look after yourself. I worry about you. You’re growing up so quickly.”

  “I’m fine, Dad. Honestly.” I climbed aboard and the train began to pull away. I leaned out of the window and waved as the platform was left behind and Dad got smaller, looking somehow diminished and gray in the distance. “I’m fine,” I whispered, then dropped onto a seat, stuffing the chocolates into my bag. At least this time I had friends to share them with: two solitary friends out of the massed ranks of snobby, unwelcoming Wyldcliffe students. When I had taken this train back in September I had been a new girl going into the unknown, but now Sarah and Helen would be waiting for me when I arrived at school.

  I was longing to see them both. They were more than my friends; they were my family—my sisters. The three of us were bound by mysterious ties that still astonished me. We had been drawn into a world of beauty and danger, and each of us had a powerful elemental connection. Water for Evie, earth for Sarah, air for Helen… There was nothing we couldn’t do, I told myself, if we stayed true to one another and to our secret sister, Lady Agnes Templeton. She was my distant ancestor, the fourth member of our Circle and the servant of the sacred fire. As the train gathered speed through the dreary suburbs, everything that had happened last term churned around my head like an endless mantra: Agnes, Sebastian…Fire, water, earth, air…Agnes…Sebastian…Sebastian…

  Sebastian. My first, my only love.

  I’m coming back, I tried to tell him. I’m coming back to Wyldcliffe. And I seemed to hear an echo in my head: Come back, come back, come back….

  I touched the silver necklace that was hanging on a slender new chain under my shirt. The necklace had been a gift from Frankie before she died, a pretty trinket with a sparkling crystal at its center. It had always been in our family, but if anyone had told me a few months ago that it was known as the Talisman, and that it was an heirloom of the Mystic Way, sealed with elemental forces, I would have laughed. Great joke. I didn’t do weird stuff, paranormal, Wicca, magic—whatever you wanted to call it. I had been the last person on earth who fancied the idea of chanting around a bonfire under the moon.

  I wasn’t laughing now, though. Everything that had happened in my first term at Wyldcli
ffe had changed me forever. I had a new reality, however incredible it seemed.

  Sebastian James Fairfax, it said on his gravestone. Born in 1865. It is thought he departed this Life in 1884, by his own hand. God rest his soul. Sebastian hadn’t died, though. Young, impetuous, and restless, he had been loved by Agnes all those years ago. When they had stumbled across the ancient teachings of the Mystic Way, Sebastian had ignored her warnings and searched too far and too deep, corrupting its sacred powers in a doomed quest for immortality. He had learned to prolong his existence, but ultimately he had only half fulfilled his tormented search for everlasting life. Now he was bound by the terrible masters he had served, the Unconquered, who had cheated death and lived forever in the shadows. They would ensure that Sebastian would pay the price for his failure to join their ranks.

  The ugly buildings and sparse trees that flashed past the train looked so real and solid and normal. But my world was not like that anymore. I had left normal behind when I had first met Sebastian in the September twilight. Now I lived in a world of unseen powers and impossibilities.

  My dreadful, unimaginable reality was that Sebastian was doomed to fade, to wither in body and spirit until he was a demon, a slave of the Unconquered, not their equal. His only hope—the one desperate option left to him—was to take the Talisman and use its mystical powers to become one of the Unconquered himself. And the only way he could possess the Talisman was to kill me.