Immortal

by Gillian Shields

  “Here,” I said. “Take it. You can have it.”

  He looked at me with infinite tenderness. “Darling Evie, if only it were that simple. Just being near it has given me some strength and energy in these last weeks. But don’t you remember what happened the other night when I tried to touch it? Agnes was no fool. She has bound her powers to you and you alone. And she knew that if I tried to lay a finger on it, its powers would work against me.”

  “Why wouldn’t she want to help you?”

  “She didn’t know that I was already ensnared by my own folly. She thought she was protecting me from a terrible mistake by sealing the Talisman. But it was too late. I had already put myself into the hands of my masters, like a blind fool. And so she also sealed the only thing that might have helped me: the memory of her love.”

  “Can’t you get these…masters of yours to unseal it for you?”

  “No! They are pitiless. They do not help the weak.” A flicker of pain passed over his face. “The Unconquered have achieved immortality with their poisoned arts, and can no longer be touched by death, or truth, or love. They rule the Shadows, and they are terrible.” He shuddered and clasped his hands together.

  For an instant I seemed to see with Sebastian’s eyes: ghastly figures of men robed in black and red, with iron crowns on their heads. One turned his face toward me, and I saw his ravaged, inhuman beauty, and I felt that I would turn to dust under his withering gaze. I dragged myself away from the awful vision and tried to understand what Sebastian was saying.

  “My masters have made it clear to me that there is now only one way that I can use the Talisman to halt the process of fading.”

  “How? Tell me!”

  Sebastian looked paler than ever, and his breath came in a quick, stabbing sob. “By conquering the Talisman, taking it from you by force and claiming my immortal crown. And to do that I would have to kill you.”

  I knew by his face that he was telling the truth.

  “I cannot be near you anymore, Evie. I know that as I fade further into darkness and become less than I am now, I will be tempted to come after the Talisman. To become one of the Unconquered, or their eternal slave—how can I be sure what I will choose when the moment finally arrives? I’m so afraid that in the end I will destroy you, as I destroyed Agnes. Now do you see why I cannot love you? My love is worthless.”

  “What about my love for you?” I cried. “Was that all for nothing?”

  “You must stop loving me. Your life is in danger, and not just from what I might be tempted to do. There are other forces watching you, eager for what you possess. I can’t control them any longer. I am not the only wretch who has searched for the Talisman. You mustn’t stay here,” he urged. “Run away. Don’t go back to the Abbey—not tonight, not ever. There’s nothing there for you but danger and trouble. There’s nothing there for you but death.”

  In a sudden swift movement he lifted me onto his horse, thrusting the reins in my hands. He pulled my face toward his for one last, despairing kiss, then pointed the horse’s head to the other side of the sleeping valley, away from the Abbey.

  “But Sebastian—”

  “You must do as I say! Leave Wyldcliffe now, while you can. From now on we must be nothing to each other, Evie. We must be strangers.” His face was like death, and his voice was as hard as ice. “We must be enemies.”

  He slapped the horse’s glossy flank, and the powerful animal tossed its head and surged over the grass. I pulled madly on the reins to make it stop and looked over my shoulder.

  “Sebastian! Sebastian!” I called into the wind. “Where are you?”

  There was no answer. The top of the hill was bare and wide, as empty of hiding places as the open desert. Sebastian had disappeared into the air. He had gone, and left not a trace behind on those desolate hills. I was alone.

  I waited and waited, but he never came. I let the horse amble slowly wherever it wanted to go. I had no will left to make any choice, good or bad. By the time the glimmering dawn seeped slowly over the moors, the horse had reached the Abbey gates. I slid down and it cantered away.

  I was back where I had begun, all those weeks ago. The peeling sign by the gates still picked out its bizarre message:

  WYLDCLIFFE

  BE COOL

  OR YOU DIE.

  I pushed the iron gates open and walked wearily to the only home I had left. What did it matter what was waiting for me there? Sebastian had gone. He was my enemy, and I felt as though I had already died.

  Forty-two

  I

  walked down the deserted drive. The Abbey looked like a vast prison in the first cold streaks of morning light. If I hurried, I might get back to bed before anyone noticed that I was missing. Avoiding the main front door, I crept down the path to the stables. As I passed the kitchen garden, someone stepped out of the shadows.

  “Sarah!” I gasped.

  “Thank God I’ve found you!”

  She hugged me quickly, then dragged me into the walled garden.

  “What are you doing out here?” I said in astonishment.

  “Helen asked me to keep an eye on you last night. She saw me on her way to detention and said she was worried about you. I explained that you were upset about Frankie and told her not to fret. But then,” Sarah continued, “after I had gone to bed, I got the weirdest feeling that something was really wrong. I had this image of you lost on the moors. I sneaked over to your dorm, but you weren’t there, and neither was Helen. So I came out to look for you both. I was just about to tell Miss Scratton that you were missing.” She looked at me anxiously. “So where’s Helen? And where have you been?”

  “You know you said I should find out more about Sebastian?” I took a deep breath. “Well, I did.”

  As briefly as I could, I told her everything. I saw her expression change from disbelief to revulsion to pity. And running underneath it all was fear.

  “So he’s a…ghost?”

  “I don’t think so.” I shrugged. “He’s between worlds. In the Shadows, he called it. He isn’t alive, like we are, but he can’t die either.”

  “And if he doesn’t get help from this Talisman thing—your necklace—he’s going to become some kind of demon?”

  “Apparently,” I said. There was no energy left in me for any emotion. “And plan B is that he kills me in order to get the Talisman.”

  Sarah looked at me in horror. “Evie, you’ve got to get away from here.”

  “How can I? Do you expect me to write to my dad and say, ‘Please take me away from Wyldcliffe; my boyfriend has turned out to be a dangerous hundred-and-fifty-year-old spirit’? He’d think I’d gone crazy. Besides, I’ve nowhere to go. Dad’s abroad; the cottage is rented most of the time. I’ve no family, just an old aunt in Wales, where I’ll be shipped off to for the summer if I’m lucky.”

  “Can’t you pretend to be ill or something?”

  “It’s no good, Sarah,” I said in a blank, dead voice. “I can’t run away from this. There’s no escape. And I can never see Sebastian again.” I burst into tears.

  “Come on; you’re exhausted,” said Sarah. “Let’s get you back inside.” She took my arm and started to guide me toward the house, when I felt her fingers dig into my skin.

  “Evie, look!” she called. “Look up there!”

  Sarah pointed up to the high roof of weathered slate. Behind a pointed tower looking down onto the far side of the building was the figure of a girl. And there was no mistaking who it was this time. Helen’s pale hair hung down her back over her nightgown, and she lifted her arms and face up to the sky, as if in worship of the pale dawn.

  “What on earth…? Helen!” I cried.

  “Shhh!” said Sarah. “You’ll distract her; she’ll fall.”

  But it was even worse than that. The next instant Helen flung her arms out wide, stepped off the roof, and plunged downward. She fell, as light as a shadow, vanishing from our sight on the other side of the Abbey.

  We ran to the
front of the house, our feet flying across the gravel. “Please don’t be hurt, please, please….” I prayed blindly. All I could see in my mind was Helen’s huddled body lying on the ground by the main door. But when we reached the front steps there was no one there.

  Impossible.

  We slipped into the entrance hall. There was no fire in the stone hearth, and none of the staff were about yet. Low voices were coming from the corridor to our left.

  Sarah beckoned me to follow her. We stole as quietly as we could past the portraits and paneling and closed rooms. The voices seemed to come from Mrs. Hartle’s study, and it sounded like an argument. The door was slightly open. We sneaked up to it and peered in, taking care not to be seen. Helen was standing in front of the High Mistress’s desk, defiant, silent, but unhurt. How could she possibly have jumped off the roof without being smashed like a china doll?

  Mrs. Hartle, however, didn’t seem to be interested in Helen’s fall. Her usually smooth features were ruffled by anger.

  “How dare you pull a stunt like that? Didn’t it occur to you that someone might see you? Do you want to give everything away?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Helen flashed back. “I want people to know what’s going on around here.”

  “Don’t waste your energy, Helen. No one would believe you. Throw yourself from the rooftop and you’ll just land yourself in an institution again, and it won’t be a cozy children’s home this time. No, it will be better for everyone if you start to do as I tell you.”

  “I won’t cooperate. And you can’t make me.”

  The High Mistress seemed to switch tactics. She sat back in her chair, no longer angry, but coolly amused. “I think you will find that I can. Oh, you’ve done well to last this long against me, but you won’t be able to go on like this much longer.”

  “I can…. I will,” said Helen, but she looked faint, as if she was struggling for air.

  “Don’t forget, Helen, that we are many, and you are alone.”

  “I’d rather die alone in a ditch than have anything to do with you!”

  Mrs. Hartle sprang out of her seat and stood in front of Helen, dark and glowering. There was some strange connection between them, some struggle going on. Then Helen laughed softly. Instantly Mrs. Hartle’s hand whipped across Helen’s face in a stinging slap.

  “Get out!” she snarled.

  Sarah tugged at my sleeve and we fled back down the corridor. She started to run in the direction of the marble stairs, but I pulled her into the curtained alcove that led to the old servants’ quarters. I fumbled with the door; then we pushed our way into the musty passage. “We can go this way without being seen,” I explained quickly.

  “But what about Helen?”

  “Shhh!”

  I could hear light footsteps on the other side of the door. My heart was beating like a hammer. I was sure it was Mrs. Hartle prowling after us. Then the door opened and Helen stood there for a second, framed by the light. “Evie? Sarah?” she whispered. “Are you there? I’ve been so worried about you.”

  “What about you?” Sarah stepped forward from where we were hiding. “We saw you fall!”

  “Good. I wanted you to, or you wouldn’t have believed me.”

  “You could have been hurt, and Mrs. Hartle didn’t care at all,” I protested. “And teachers aren’t allowed to hit you like that!”

  “I know. But she’s not just a teacher.” Helen sighed in the dark. “She’s my mother.”

  Forty-three

  A

  bell rang out, echoing down the corridor outside. The new day had begun.

  “We have to go,” said Helen, suddenly alert. “Meet me after class.”

  “Where?”

  “Down in the old grotto. Do you know where I mean? Don’t let anyone see you. And don’t talk to me today. Pretend we don’t have anything to do with each other. They’re watching all the time.”

  “Who is watching?” I asked.

  “I’ll explain later. Come on; we need to go.”

  We fled up the stairs to our dorms.

  I don’t know how I got through that day. Sebastian…Agnes…the Talisman…Helen…Mrs. Hartle. I felt as though I were drowning.

  To make things worse, Celeste came back from the hospital, her leg set in plaster. She made a great show of being an injured martyr, hobbling bravely up the marble stairs, demanding attention and sympathy. But when Sophie offered to lend me an atlas in geography, Celeste looked stunned. The idea that her friends might have stopped hating me quite so much seemed to infuriate her, and she picked on me all afternoon, until I wanted to scream, Leave me alone, leave me alone…. But nothing Celeste could do or say was as tormenting as my own thoughts.

  As soon as we were dismissed from class I flew out of the building and ran down to the lake. Its waters looked dull and dark, reflecting the wintry sky above. A hundred memories flooded through me of being there with Sebastian: laughing, talking, swimming, kissing—everything we could never do again. I walked on, determined not to give in to tears, and slipped through the tangled shrubs to the grotto.

  “Sarah?” I called in a low voice. “Helen?”

  “In here,” came an answering whisper. There was gleam of a flashlight ahead of me. I followed it and found the others waiting for me next to the glittering mosaics.

  “Tell us what was going on this morning, Helen,” I said bluntly. “Did you really fall from the roof? And is Mrs. Hartle really your mother?”

  “The answer to both questions is yes. And I’ll try to explain. But you probably won’t believe it.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m getting used to believing the unbelievable. Just try me.”

  Helen started to speak in a rapid, monotone voice. “I was brought up in a children’s home, and I never knew who my parents were. The people at the home tried to be kind, but I didn’t fit in. I got a reputation for being difficult. If anyone tried to help, I’d yell that I just wanted to be left alone. So after a bit they stopped trying. I caused so much trouble at school that I was kicked out.” She flushed self-consciously. I’d never heard her say so much before, but she plowed on.

  “I kind of turned in on myself. My real life was in my dreams. When I was little I’d always had this fantasy about being able to fly, like kids do. But even when I got older I used to dream about it. Eventually, when I was about thirteen, I started to sleepwalk. One night I woke up and I was on the roof of the home. I didn’t know how I had gotten there. I looked down and thought that if I just stepped off, I would be able to fly somewhere completely new and different, somewhere I would belong. Another voice in my head was saying, Don’t be stupid; you’ll kill yourself, but somehow I knew it would be okay. So I closed my eyes and stepped off.”

  Helen closed her eyes as though searching for memories. “I felt the air rushing past me, and the sound of wind filled my head like a roaring fire. I was expecting some kind of crash, but when I opened my eyes again I had landed on the ground as lightly as a cat. And the drop must have been forty feet. I couldn’t quite believe it, so I did it again and again. Every time I landed safely. It was as though I could slide down the wind, or as if I could swim through the air as easily as swimming through water. I can’t really explain it.”

  She looked at us, trying to gauge our reactions. “There were other things too. I found I could move stuff just by thinking about it. If I wanted to move a book, for example, I would imagine that the wind was blowing it, and it would move all by itself. I could make a gale spring up out of nowhere. I could even transport myself from one place to another, just by the power of my thought.”

  “The power of your thought?” said Sarah. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s what Lady Agnes wrote,” I interrupted. “‘I feel, I desire, and it happens….’ Only she was drawn to fire, and you were drawn to the air.”

  “Yeah, it was like that,” said Helen. “Let’s say I would be locked in my room after stirring up some trouble at the home and I wanted to get out. Well, if I w
anted it strongly enough, it was as if I went into this kind of…oh, I don’t know, like a tunnel of rushing wind. And I came out at the other end in the place I had imagined: the park or the streets or down by the old canal. No one seemed to know, or see me do it. I thought I was some kind of freak. It made everything worse, not better. I was terrified that someone would find out, that they would think I was insane.” She looked up nervously. “I suppose you think I’m a total head case, don’t you? I know what they call me: crazy Helen Black.”

  “We don’t think that,” murmured Sarah.

  “No,” I said firmly. “You’re our friend.”

  Helen looked shy and awkward and pleased. “Thanks.”

  “So how did you end up at Wyldcliffe?” I asked.

  “About a year ago a woman came to the home. She was very smart, well dressed, not the kind of person I had seen before. It was Mrs. Hartle. She explained that she was my mother and that she’d been very young—not married—when I was born. My father had run off, and she hadn’t been able to take care of me. Later she had married an older man, a rich man. He was dead and now she was in a good position at a school, and we were going to be together again. And then she told me that she knew that I was in touch with special, elemental powers, that it was a family gift, and that she alone could understand me. It was weird hearing her say all that, but I was so glad that it wasn’t just me being crazy, and that my mother had come for me at last.”

  I felt a quick pulse of envy. I had imagined so many times that my own mother would turn up one day, saying, I didn’t drown; it was it all a mistake; I’m alive…. Just the way Helen’s mother had suddenly walked into her life.