What you call home
I call exile
“How are you doing, Sarah?” Mr McIntyre had stopped her in the corridor.
“Oh, hello. I’m OK, thank you.”
“How are the audition pieces shaping up?” he asked, gesturing to her cello in its purple case.
“Very well, thank you. Mr Sands is helping a lot.”
“We’re very proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”
Sarah smiled.“Thank you.” Mr McIntyre walked away with one last encouraging smile. He was so kind. Always looking out for her.
The school had always made a fuss of her musical talent. It pleased her, and she was proud of it – but her shy nature stopped her from enjoying it fully. She felt a bit overwhelmed sometimes.
A shy performer. A contradiction in terms, really, but Sarah knew it was actually quite common among musicians. It’s just that their love for music was stronger than the nerves that took them whenever they got up on stage.
“Coming for lunch?”
Alice was standing at the lockers, wearing the over-the-knee stockings she had bought in Accessorize a few days before, and attracting quite a few interested looks. And some envious ones.
How does she get away with wearing that? Only Alice could pull it off! thought Sarah, smoothing her uniform skirt over her opaque black tights.
“Yes. I’ve got food for you and the girls as well.” Sarah cooked lunch for her friends sometimes. She took it to school in dainty little containers, and made their day.
“Oh, what a treat! Thank you!” exclaimed Alice, with genuine pleasure. For a girl who watched her figure she had a very healthy appetite.
Bryony and Leigh were waiting in front of the lunch hall. They sat at their usual table, the one in the back beside the window, and Sarah started taking out her treats.
“What is it?” asked Bryony.
“Ham and soft cheese crepes, and …” She smiled and produced a little floral box. “My famous homemade chocolates, Sarah’s own.” There was a flurry of ooohs and aaahs, and they started eating and chatting.
“I love your chocolates. Especially the white ones with the little sugar roses.” Leigh licked her fingers. Sarah looked at her friend, with her cloudless blue eyes, the hint of freckles on her nose, her sunny smile. She wondered what it would be like, to have an easy life, to be a young woman without a curse. To be someone like Leigh.
A guitar sound came from under the table.
‘Whose phone is that?”
“Oh, it’s mine,” said Sarah, digging in her bag. They were allowed to keep their phones in school, as long as they switched them off during lessons. Sarah always kept it on silent anyway. I must have forgotten. She looked at the screen. Harry. Something must have happened.
“Sorry, girls, just a minute.”
She ran out of the lunch hall and looked for a corner where she could be alone.
“Yes?” she whispered in the phone.
“Sarah, they’re in your school.”
“What? Where?” Panic took hold of her.
“They just went in. You need to get out of there now. We can’t fight them in front of everyone.”
“What do they look like?”
“It’s a man. I think it’s Simon Knowles. He’s wearing a tracksuit. There’s a woman with him, I don’t know who she is. She has brown hair, very short, and a blue coat.”
So Leaf isn’t Simon Knowles. Sarah drew a sigh of relief, in spite of the situation. “Going now. I’ll meet you at the entrance.”
She put the phone back in her bag, quickly. Simon was a football coach, it said on her parents’ files. He was probably there under the pretence of training the school team. The most likely places to find him would be the gym hall, or the football pitches.
Sarah ran down the stairs into the entrance hall. Harry walked through the doors, looking cool and calm.
“Oh, Sarah. Hello. I was hoping to catch you,” he said pleasantly.“I’m just going to report to the office. I’ll be right back.”
Sarah looked at him, wide eyed. His blood was as cold as ice. He would have made a great spy.
“Here I am.” He was back after a few minutes, with a visitor’s badge around his neck.
“What’s your excuse?” she whispered.
“I’m here to see your Head Teacher. To ask how you’ve been doing.”
“Right. No appointment?”
“Last-minute arrangement? Is that plausible?”
‘Not really.”
“Oh well, we’ll just have to wing it.”
Right at that moment, Sarah’s heart stopped.
“Harry.” She put a hand on his arm. “They’re over there.”
Sarah had seen them through the big glass doors at the back. They were walking towards the pitches.
“Stay here.” Harry walked away quickly.
“No, I’m coming with you …”
“Sarah! Why did you not come back?” Leigh had just appeared beside her. “We ate everything, here’s your containers. What happened?”
“Sorry, Harry said he was coming, and … Excuse me.” Sarah ran after Harry down the corridor, and outside.
“Simon,” Harry called calmly.
The man in a tracksuit and the woman in a blue coat turned around.
“There you are. I was just looking for you,” said Simon, looking straight at Sarah. He was a young guy, tall and dark, with a big, friendly smile.
“I know.” She was trying to be as cool as Harry, but her chest, rising and falling quickly, was giving her away.
“I wasn’t expecting you, though,” Simon said to Harry.
“I know.” Harry echoed Sarah’s words.
“Sarah?” Leigh had followed her outside, worried by Sarah’s strange demeanour. “Is everything OK?”
“Leigh, just wait for me in class, I’ll be there in a minute.”
The red-haired woman smiled. “Are you that Leigh? Leigh Bain?”
Sarah felt like someone had stabbed her in the heart. Leave her out of it. Please, leave her out of it …
“Your dad told me so much about you. I’m Lucinda Hall. I work with him at Eastwood Park.”
Sarah started breathing again. She’s not one of them.
“Oh, Lucinda, yes. My dad’s mentioned you.”
“All good, I hope! We have a new football coach in the sports development team. Simon Knowles.” Lucinda gestured towards him.
“Nice to meet you,” said Leigh, smiling in her sunny way.
“And you. I hope I’ll see you at the training sessions.”
‘Definitely. I love football.”
“I can imagine, with that father of yours!” Lucinda laughed, a warm, friendly laugh.
“I won’t be a minute, Leigh,” pleaded Sarah.
Please, please go.
“OK. Nice to meet you at last, Lucinda. Bye, Simon.”
“Nice meeting you.” And then, “I can take it from here, Lucinda. I’ll see you back at Eastwood Park … let me see … around three-sh, OK?”
“Are you sure? You all sorted, then?”
“All sorted. Will find my way around no problem.”
“OK then, see you around three. Bye,” she added, in Harry and Sarah’s direction.
“Do you mind walking with me? I have a training session in half an hour.” Simon started striding towards the pitches.
“Of course. We’ll help you set up,” answered Harry, like everything was normal, like nothing was happening. There were people walking by, and he didn’t want to attract any attention.
They walked on to the football pitch, under the rain. It was deserted. The sky was grey and low, and it was dark, as dark as dusk. Every step they took squelched on the soaking grass. They stood beside the net.
“So how do you plan to kill me?” asked Sarah.
“Well, my demon—”
“Yes, I’ve heard it all before. ‘My demon is the mightiest demon ever, you might have killed the others but not mine, this is the
last day of your life …’ I know, I know.”
Simon laughed, and his chiselled face looked even more handsome. Sarah shivered. How appearances could deceive.
“No, what I was going to say is that my demon is right here, right now.”
Sarah and Harry froze. Harry took out his sgian-dubh, looking around. He hoped nobody would see them, or they would have a lot of explaining to do, but they had no choice.
“Harry, “whispered Sarah. Suddenly she understood what Simon meant, when he’d said my demon is right here.
Simon is the demon.
“Harry,” she repeated, and looked at him. Harry wasn’t looking around any more; his eyes had stopped on Simon’s face. He understood too.
“You are a demon?” asked Sarah.
Here we go, thought Harry. She’s started making conversation again. Always trying to find a way out of killing.
“Not exactly. I’ve got it inside me. And there’s its slave around, too.”
A slave? Is his demon a Sentient? Harry felt a chill down his spine.
“Right, I’m not interested. One more chance to call off your demon or I’ll kill you,” Harry intervened.
Simon laughed. Why do they always laugh in our faces, like stupid pantomime villains? thought Sarah, irritated. What on earth is funny, in all this?
“You won’t do that.”
“Watch me.”
“Lucinda is with Leigh, right now.”
Sarah gasped. The sky and the earth swapped place for a second.
“What?”
“Well, the real Lucinda is gone. My slave is with Leigh, chatting about her dad and about football.”
“You’re bluffing,” whispered Harry.
“He’s not,” said Sarah, panicked. “He’s telling the truth, I can feel it. Tell Lucinda to let her go. She hasn’t done anything to you; she’s nothing to you … Let her go.”
“That is up to you. You let me kill you, and Leigh will be saved. Otherwise … well, my slave strangles very, very quickly. And quietly. It’s a knack, I think.”
“He’s lying. He’ll kill you, and Lucinda will kill Leigh,” murmured Harry.
Sarah ignored him. “OK. It’s a deal,” she said, trying to sound firm, but sounding as if she was begging.
“It’s no use. They’ll kill Leigh anyway. Sarah, please,” Harry pleaded.
“Tell her to find an excuse to come out on the steps. So I can see she’s alive.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to bargain, Sarah.” Simon’s voice was pleasant, charming.
“I told you. They’ll kill her, Sarah. There’s no hope for her now,” said Harry.
“It can’t be. Come on, take me. Take me! I’m here! Look!” Sarah pleaded. She lifted her hands, and showed Simon her palms. “They’re cold! I won’t use the blackwater, I promise. Take me and let her go …”
Simon opened his mouth to reply.
There was the noise of a cork popping, and a small trickle of blood coming out of Simon’s mouth.
There was the tiniest little hole in his neck, burnt around the edges. Simon collapsed on the wet grass with a thud.
Sarah turned to Harry in time to see, through a film of tears, that he was putting away his gun.
“What did you do?” she cried. “What did you do?”
“You weren’t planning for me to be here,” whispered Harry to the corpse. “But I was. And look what happened now.” His eyes were shining in a way that made Sarah want to run away from him, as far as she could go.
Right at that moment a soft, white mist came out of Simon’s mouth, and mixed silently with the mist rising from the ground, disappearing from view. Sarah was crying silently, in a haze of pain. Harry kneeled beside her, taking her face in his hands.
“Sarah. Listen to me. Listen. Listen! You need to dissolve Simon now.”
Leigh, Leigh, Sarah was calling silently.
“Sarah!” he shouted, making her flinch. She recoiled from him, but he held on to her face.
“You need to dissolve him before somebody sees us!”
“Harry … look,” she whispered.
“What the hell …?”
The white mist that had come out of Simon’s mouth had started swirling around him in dusty circles, one inside the other, like a star in the making. After a few seconds it imploded, and collapsed into itself, a white, shiny little sphere, twirling, twirling.
“It’s not dead. The demon is not dead,” whispered Sarah.
Simon’s corpse was lying with his mouth open. The sphere disappeared into it, and travelled down his throat. They could see it shining through his skin, taking place in his chest, where his heart would have beaten, had he still been alive.
Simon started twitching.
“Oh my God.” They looked on, horrified.
Slowly, painfully, with jerky, unnatural movements that made Sarah feel ill, Simon’s corpse got up, and looked around. Simon’s face was still contorted in death, his eyes were still staring, his jaw slack – a death mask. All the blood had drained from him, and his lips were blue. He wailed, and took a step towards Sarah. Harry was on him like a flash, throwing him on the ground again.
“Now!” he called to Sarah.
Sarah shook herself, and sat astride Simon, putting her hands on his chest. Her face was just above his, as his skin began to weep. The white sphere emerged from Simon’s mouth, suspended for a second, and it lingered around Sarah’s mouth. Harry stood frozen. In an instant, he knew what was going to happen next.
It’s looking for another host. Like in Niall’s dream, where Sarah wasn’t herself!
Harry threw himself on Sarah, just as the sphere moved, quick as a blink, ready to propel itself down Sarah’s throat. It looked for her mouth, but found nothing.
Sarah was on the ground with Harry’s arms around her chest, holding her so tight that she was nearly suffocating.
Without a host, the little white sphere dissolved into nothing, just as the last of Simon’s body liquefied into black-water. The demon had been too late.
“It wanted to take you,” whispered Harry. They lay together for a moment, Harry holding Sarah against him. She breathed in the scent of wet earth, the scent of death.
Leigh is dead.
After a few seconds, Harry let Sarah go, and he helped her up, his face cold and controlled again.
“You need to stay in school; we can’t raise suspicions. You need to go back in and pretend nothing has happened. I can’t help you with this. You have to do it by yourself. Do you understand me?”
“How could you …? We could have saved her,” Sarah whispered, but Harry had already grabbed Simon’s sports bag, and he was gone, in his silent way.
Sarah sat there, trembling, for a while. Then she dried her tears, did up her hair again, and straightened her uniform. She composed her face, and she did it so well, so quickly, that nobody would have guessed there had been anything wrong except being caught up in a sudden shower.
She took a deep breath, and walked towards the main building.
Someone was screaming.
Leigh had been found.
35
Sorrow
Let me go
The sky had opened. The drizzle had turned into a downpour.
“They would have killed you too.” Sarah was curled up on her bed. Harry was stroking her hair.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll dream of her. I can feel it.”
Harry thought of the sweet, quiet girl he remembered. Leigh.
“She’ll blame me,” whispered Sarah into her pillow.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Sarah didn’t reply.
She saw them both that night. Mairead and Leigh. They were on a windy shore, somewhere wild and bitter.
Sarah was sitting on the pebbles, waiting. She could taste salt in the air. The wind was so strong, it had tangled and matted her hair. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and there they were, sitting o
n either side of her. Mairead was wearing a short blue pinafore, her blond hair down on her shoulders. Leigh had on her school uniform, like the day she’d been killed.
“I’m sorry …” Sarah began, but Mairead put a cold finger on her lips.
Leigh leaned her head on Sarah’s shoulder, and took her hand. They sat very close to each other, their hands entwined.
Sarah was too sad to even cry. After a short while of sitting in silence, Mairead and Leigh stood up. They had not spoken once.
Sarah watched them walk into the sea, until the waves swallowed them both. She saw brown hair and blond hair mixing, floating in the foam, then nothing.
The sky was grey and full of rain, ready to fall, like tears.
There was nothing left to say, nothing left to think. Sarah sat hugging her knees, waiting to wake up.
Maybe I’ll soon join them.
The sea was cold, as grey as the sky, and so vast, so lonely.
When she woke up, Sarah didn’t make a sound. She didn’t want Harry to come. She didn’t want anyone to come. She wanted to be alone; she wanted to be silent.
36
The Hand Holding Mine
Wilderness beneath my skin
Tooth and claw
The secret me
The aftermath was terrible. Sarah wanted to go to Leigh’s funeral, but she knew that she couldn’t; she knew she would have brought danger with her. She asked Harry to tell every-one that she was still too traumatized from her parents’ death to attend.
Leigh was everywhere, everyone was talking about it. The girl killed in Trinity Academy. Not a trace, not a clue as to who’d done it.
Bryony and Alice called at the house, but Sarah asked Harry to turn them away. She couldn’t bear to be near them. Had someone else died because of her …
The school was closed for three days, and it was the longest three days of her life. She refused to speak and she refused to eat, and Harry didn’t force her. When he realized she wanted to be silent, he just went with it. All she did was lie on her bed, looking out of the window.
Harry hoped with all his heart they wouldn’t attack now, or she would have been an easy target. Simon’s slave was still around. What did it look like? Was it still possessing Lucinda’s body?
Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1) Page 25