Tide (The Sarah Midnight Trilogy)

by Daniela Sacerdoti

  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 k
nown 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.