Tide (The Sarah Midnight Trilogy)

by Daniela Sacerdoti

  His lips barely moved, but the venom in his words was crystal clear.

  “I don’t understand. What happened?” Sarah asked, shocked. Her voice was trembling and already full of grief. Because she knew. She felt it.

  “Playing dumb, are you? Well, that’s all you need to know. Never, never come near us again, do you hear me? You, or any of your insane family or little friends. Do you hear me, Sarah bloody Midnight?”

  “Hey! Trevor!” Sean came out from behind the door. His dagger was behind his back, but he looked no less intimidating.

  Trevor didn’t budge, didn’t change his expression. Grief had made him fearless.

  “Is it Aunt Juliet?” Sarah whispered, a world of grief in her words.

  That’s what it was, the weird feeling after I said goodbye to her the other day.

  “You’re dead to us, Sarah,” Uncle Trevor snarled, and threw a bundle of keys – Sarah’s house keys – and a book at her feet. The book lay with its spine broken and open, its pages crumpled under their own weight.

  Trevor turned and walked away. Sarah watched his broad back and his uncertain step down the gravelly path. He brought a hand to his face – Sarah guessed he was drying his eyes. That was the man with a swagger, who was always dressed in perfectly pressed designer clothes, who had the salesman’s smile perpetually painted on his face.

  Sarah bent to retrieve the book. It was a photo album. She flicked through the pages in silence, shaking Sean’s hand off as he tried to touch her shoulder. The album was full of pictures of Sarah as a child, and of her mum.

  “He didn’t tell me how,” she whispered desolately. “Oh my God, was it the demon-bird?” She clasped her hand on her mouth. “It got away. I should have killed it!”

  Stricken, Sean took a step towards her once more, and again she stepped back.

  “Aunt Juliet is dead,” she said aloud, like she couldn’t quite believe it.

  Like my parents, like Leigh. And little Shadow. And it’s always my fault.

  “Sarah! What happened?” Nicholas was walking up the path towards them.

  Perfect timing, thought Sean.

  “Who was that weird-looking guy coming out of here just now? Just barged past me. Sarah?” Nicholas had seen her face.

  “Something happened to my aunt. I think she was attacked. I think she’s dead.”

  Nicholas took the steps three at a time and enveloped her – such was Sean’s impression, that he’d swallowed her whole with his huge frame.

  “Shhhh,” Nicholas soothed. “It’s OK. It’s OK. I’m here now. I’m here.” He stroked Sarah’s hair with his pale fingers.

  From where he was standing, Sean could see a sliver of Sarah’s face. To his horror, he watched her expression change from stricken to dazed in the space of a few seconds.

  She allowed Nicholas to take the photo album from her, allowed him to lead her upstairs, murmuring in her ear, as Sean and Elodie watched, stunned.

  “Everything will be alright,” he was saying. “I’m here.”

  They heard Sarah’s bedroom door close and Elodie turned and walked slowly towards the kitchen. But Sean stood as if immobilised. Sarah had told Nicholas that Juliet had been killed. And Nicholas didn’t seem surprised. He didn’t seem surprised at all.

  *

  Nicholas and Sarah lay on her bed, entwined. Sarah had curled herself up in the nest of Nicholas’s body. She felt warm and safe, and had no desire to move. She was sure that if she moved just an inch away from him, the terrifying grief that had been brought to her front door would overwhelm her and she’d suffocate.

  A blue light started flickering on her bedside table, emitting a little beep. Sarah extended her hand and wrapped her fingers around her phone.

  Bryony’s name flashed on the screen. Suddenly, Sarah wanted to speak to her friend so badly, tell her all. See her, her familiar face, her family – people she’d known and loved since she was a wee girl.

  She switched the phone off.

  She wouldn’t put Bryony and her family in danger. She would never go near them again. Just as she would never go near Trevor and her cousins again.

  She made herself as small as she could, as small as a child, in the shelter of Nicholas’s arms.

  In the darkness, he was smiling.

  23

  Islay

  Every scent a memory

  Sea and grass

  Peat and salt

  Where we came from

  And what we left behind

  The journey to Islay was like a dream of beauty, wind and rain and sea shaping a landscape unchanged for millions of years. It was like a balm on Sarah’s wounds, in spite of her grief for Aunt Juliet and Shadow, and in spite of the fear of another demon strike.

  There were still no dreams. She’d always hoped for the dreams to disappear, she had fantasized about how peaceful, how free her life would be without them. But now that they didn’t come, it wasn’t like that at all. Being dreamless left her lost and uncertain and added to her terror.

  She didn’t know what she was going to find at Midnight Hall. She suspected that the demon-tigers and the attack on Aunt Juliet were just the beginning of another wave – another Valaya? But she couldn’t count on the dreams to warn her. There was a constant sense of anxiety with every movement, every change of light, every unexpected noise.

  Still, even with the black cloud hanging over her, Sarah couldn’t help feel a huge relief to be on the ferry to Islay – because everything around her spoke of freedom. Even in her sadness and fear, she could hear the call of home.

  Nicholas stood beside her on deck, unable to keep his eyes from her. Sarah’s black hair was blowing in the wind, and she looked at one with the landscape, as if she’d been born from it – a Celtic goddess, going back where she belonged.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said over the roar of the wind.

  “Yes,” he answered simply.

  Something in his voice made Sarah do a double take. She studied his face. He was carrying a weight on his shoulders. Sarah could sometimes feel it so intensely that she could nearly see it, an invisible, malevolent incubus encroaching on his back, refusing to give him peace. The uncertainty in his eyes wasn’t like him – he was usually so confident, even arrogant with it. As if he ruled the world, as if nothing could ever worry him or break his composure.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine,” he smiled thinly. He couldn’t confide in her, of course. He couldn’t speak about what tortured him, and what he had on his mind. He couldn’t tell her that the attack on Juliet hadn’t been his idea at all, but his father’s. That he hadn’t known it was going to happen, not so fast, so cruel.

  His eyes roamed over her face, blue shadows under her eyes, cheekbones jutting out. He could see how much the attack on Juliet and Shadow’s death had taken out of her.

  “You’ll love it on Islay,” she said and smiled at him, willing him to experience the same feelings she had as the ferry made its way across the sound.

  “I’m sure.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her closer. She breathed in his scent of earth and smoke, still persistent in spite of the wind and the smell of the sea. Nicholas took a quick look around. Sean and Elodie were on the other side of the boat. It was a good moment to speak.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened to your aunt.” He cupped her cheek, turning her to face him, his black eyes holding her gaze. It was too good a chance to remind her how much she needed him. How much she depended on him. “They’re everywhere. The demons, I mean. Nowhere is safe. Except when you’re with me.”

  Sarah gave him a wan smile and leant into him, feeling suddenly weakened. “I know. I’m very lucky to have you. We’ll be just fine,” she said.

  “Yes. As long as we’re together, we’ll be just fine.”

  They stood in silence for a minute, Sarah’s head on his shoulder, then he spoke again.

  “Sarah.”

  “Yes?”


  “Do you ever dream of going away? Somewhere far away from all this? Somewhere entirely different. A new life.”

  “What brought this on?” she asked softly.

  “I’m not sure. Just … thinking.”

  “Away from my home, no. I love Scotland. Away from being a Midnight …” She sighed. “Yes. Yes, of course I would. It’s not an option, but I wish I could. Why, are you planning to run away with me?” She smiled.

  “I’d love to. You and me. Some place where nobody could find us.” His voice trailed away.

  Sarah slipped her arm around his waist. She could feel his sadness and didn’t know what to do about it. “We can’t run from what we are.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe there’s a way. Maybe together things can be different for us.”

  Sarah didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t think of the future now, she couldn’t think of going anywhere, being anywhere but Islay. They stood entwined, taking in the beauty around them, heavy burdens on both their minds.

  Suddenly, Nicholas interrupted Sarah’s thoughts. “Look!” he pointed to a group of seaweed-covered rocks shining with rain and seawater. A lone seal was sitting there, watching the ferry with its round, black eyes. Sarah met the seal’s gaze and they looked at each other for a few moments before the seal slipped into the water and out of sight.

  “A spirit of the water?” asked Sarah dreamily.

  “Maybe. Not one of mine. If they were near, I’d know.”

  “A free one, then.”

  “Lucky for them,” whispered Nicholas, and Sarah was left wondering what he meant.

  24

  Midnight Hall

  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.