Tide (The Sarah Midnight Trilogy) Read online

  Sarah caught Juliet looking at her hands, red and rough. She curled them into fists, trying to hide them away. “My eczema is back,” she whispered. She had lied about her hands so many times it had become an alternative truth. Sarah’s obsessive cleaning rituals were an open secret, but one she had always refused to discuss.

  Juliet nodded, stirring her cappuccino.

  Sarah looked away and out of the window at the steps of the Royal Concert Hall. A small group of tourists reading a map, a few seagulls, and a bit further down, a little band of long-haired, kilted pipers and drummers. A sudden memory came back to her: Harry, or the man she used to know as Harry, rubbing cream tenderly into her chapped hands. The sadness of the reverie must have been visible on her face, because Juliet reached out to her and touched her hair gently. Aunt Juliet would never stop trying to do what Sarah’s mother should have done.

  She cupped Sarah’s cheek briefly. “Listen, why don’t I treat you to something new to wear? It was a big day, you deserve it.”

  “It’s OK, Aunt Juliet, really.”

  The older woman pursed her lips. “All right. Maybe you and Bryony could come up to the house later? I’m sure your friend would love to know how your audition went. How is she?”

  “I haven’t spoken to her in a while.”

  Juliet was astonished. “You haven’t spoken to Bryony in a while?” Sarah and Bryony had been inseparable since they were in nursery. Still, since her best friend Leigh’s death … nothing had been the same.

  A pause, with Sarah taking a sip of her latte, glad of the chance to hide her face behind her long black hair.

  “Sarah …” Juliet continued. Sarah knew at once what was coming. “Any news of Harry?”

  Harry is dead.

  Sarah looked out of the window, her gaze resting on the Christmas lights hung across Buchanan Street. “He should come back soon,” she replied without missing a beat. “I spoke to him last night.” A lie, of course. Lying was something the Midnight family was exceptionally good at. “And he says he has more or less done all he needs to do in London.”

  “That’s great news. So when is he coming back?” Juliet insisted.

  “Like I said, soon.”

  Juliet raised her eyebrows. “Before or after Christmas?”

  “After, probably.”

  Juliet sat back and sighed. “Sarah, that’s over two weeks away. You know you can’t stay in that house alone, it’s stated in your parents’ will.”

  “Well, who’ll tell the solicitor? Nobody. Unless you do.”

  “You know I agree with James’s and … Anne’s decision.” Juliet closed her eyes briefly. She still found it difficult to mention her dead sister’s name. “You can’t live alone. It’s not safe.”

  “Two months is not long. And anyway, I’m going to Islay for Christmas.” Now was as good a time as any to tell her aunt that piece of news.

  Juliet frowned. “What? On your own?”

  “No, of course not. With Nicholas.” She made it sound as if she were surprised her aunt hadn’t worked that out for herself. She hadn’t asked Nicholas yet, but she was in no doubt that he would agree.

  “Oh, Sarah. You’re not spending the first Christmas after …” Juliet took a deep breath. “We want you to spend Christmas with us. We’re your family …”

  “I know, I know …” Sarah felt a pang of guilt. But the first Christmas without her parents, in the company of Juliet and Trevor and her giggly cousins was too much to bear. She wrung her fingers.

  “Sarah, please. Do it for me, at least.” Hurt and disappointment were painted all over Juliet’s face, and Sarah’s determination wavered for a second. But no. She had to do this. She had to go back to Islay and try and unravel the mysteries that surrounded the Midnight family. She needed to know the truth about Mairead Midnight, the aunt Sarah didn’t know she had until Sean told her. Before that, nobody had mentioned Mairead. Sean didn’t know anything about the circumstances of Mairead’s death, aged only thirteen, because Harry himself didn’t know. Why had it all been kept secret? Why had any memory of her aunt been erased, as if she’d never existed?

  Sarah hoped that on Islay, in their ancestral home, she could unravel Mairead’s story, and her own story too. Maybe she would begin to understand herself better. She had been a sheltered little girl, and all of a sudden she was a young woman, alone to face a world full of secrets. She was a huntress, bearer of powers she had to learn to control and use to save her own life, and the lives of others. The changes in Sarah’s life, in her perception of herself, had been too fast to allow her to grasp and fully own her new identity. She needed to stop and look back, to get her bearings before taking the next steps. Islay was the place to do it.

  How could she convey all that to Aunt Juliet, who knew and understood nothing about the world of the Midnights?

  She couldn’t.

  Sarah gathered their empty cups and put them on a tray. She had to stop the compulsion to wipe the table, clearing the crumbs away. “Aunt Juliet, I need to go back to Islay. I need to be … near them. I hope you understand.”

  Juliet sighed. “I don’t. We might not be Midnights, but we still love you. We want you to be with us. And we do our best, you know.”

  A touch of resentment had seeped into Juliet’s tone. When James Midnight had appeared on the scene all those years ago, her sister’s life had immediately shifted to focus on him and his charismatic family. Juliet and her parents, who had died one after the other not long after Anne’s wedding, had felt side-lined, forgotten. As if they couldn’t quite match up to the golden clan, the charmed Midnights. James never paid much attention to Anne’s family. To him, they simply didn’t exist. They were a blur at the edge of his perception.

  Sarah turned her head away. A woman with a fiddle case strapped across her back was walking up the steps of the Royal Concert Hall. One day, that would be her.

  “Is your heart set on this?” asked Juliet.

  Sarah nodded.

  “Right.” A moment of silence while Juliet absorbed her defeat. “I just wish we could come with you. To Islay. But Trevor and the girls, spending Christmas up there …”

  “No, no. That just wouldn’t work,” Sarah hurried to reply. No way. She wouldn’t be able to do what she had set out to do with the McKettricks there too.

  After a moment, Juliet tried again. “But going alone with Nicholas … are you sure it’s a good idea? He seems like a nice lad, but … You’ve been with him what – only a matter of weeks? Do you know anything about him?”

  He saved my life.

  “He comes from a good family, Aunt Juliet, I told you. His parents are both lawyers. They’re based in Aberdeen, but they’re abroad all the time. He’s alone for Christmas.”

  “Oh. Oh well. I suppose it’s a bit early for us to meet his family …?”

  “I haven’t met them either,” Sarah said quickly, adding, “but I will, soon.” Another lie.

  She was surprised herself at how quickly her relationship with Nicholas was moving. Sometimes it felt as if someone else was making all her decisions. It was almost puzzling.

  “That house is in the middle of nowhere. How will you manage?”

  “We’ll be fine, Aunt Juliet!” Sarah pulled her jacket from the back of the chair and swivelled her cello case so that she could shrug the straps over her shoulders. “Better go. Nicholas will be waiting for me. He’ll want to know how the audition went. There’s no need for you to take me home, I’ll just take the train.”

  “Sarah …” Juliet put a hand on Sarah’s sleeve as they got up. Her eyes were warm, but her voice was steely. “Harry must be back by Christmas or just after, or you’re moving in with us. It’d only be until you’re eighteen. But that’s the way it must be.”

  The thought of being removed from her home made Sarah’s stomach churn. “You’ll report me to the solicitor?” Her voice trembled with hurt.

  “I’ll protect you, Sarah. It’s for your own good.”

 
; Sarah threw up her hands. “You’ll protect me? Like my parents did?” she spat. “This conversation is over.” She strode off, leaving Juliet to hurry after her through the shop.

  *

  Neither of them noticed the hunched, thin figure who’d sat at a table behind them, at such an angle that he wouldn’t be seen, but he could see them. Neither of them, therefore, was aware of the fact that the figure’s eyes had never left them throughout the conversation, that he’d heard every word Sarah and Juliet said, and that he’d followed them on their way out.

  3

  Stolen

  I saw you falling slowly

  For many years

  Death told me

  She’d come for you first

  Of course, Juliet insisted on driving Sarah home. There was no chance Sarah could convince her aunt to let her go back by train.

  Sarah didn’t say a word as they travelled along the motorway, her cello resting on the backseat and her thoughts all tangled up. My parents’ will. Selfish, selfish and stupid.

  But it wasn’t, really, it wasn’t stupid or selfish. A girl alone in a huge house – it was a risk in any circumstance, even more so if the girl in question was a precious Secret heir, and a Dreamer. The selfish thing had been not to teach her to fight – to leave her helpless and force her to learn fast, and alone.

  So much for protecting me, she said to herself. All she knew when they’d died was that she was a Dreamer, and that her parents used her dreams to know if there were demons around, and where. That was her knowledge of the Midnight mission, in a nutshell. A drop in the sea of what she should have learnt.

  Each Secret Family has one Dreamer whose gift awakens at the age of thirteen – and they all pay a terrible price for it. Their nightmares are a torture they can’t escape, and one over which they have no control. They dream of the demons – or Surari, as they’re known in the ancient language – that seep into the world. Sometimes the Dreamers themselves become victims, hurt or even murdered in the course of their visions, and although they suffer no physical damage, they have to endure the pain and the panic as if it were happening for real. In her dreams, Sarah had been burnt, drowned, buried; most nights waking up screaming in a house that was often empty, with her parents out hunting. The constant terror had heightened Sarah’s obsessive nature. She’d wake up from some terrifying ordeal to clean and tidy and straighten anything she could put her hands on. Her rituals were her protection against the chaos in her life.

  Every night, alone in her huge, silent house, waiting for her parents to come back from the hunt, she performed her routines of wiping and sorting and aligning. If she did everything perfectly, in the right order, the correct number of times, her parents would return. If anything was out of place, if she neglected the smallest detail, her parents would be killed, and it’d be all her fault. It was on that basis that she had lived her life.

  Her pact with God hadn’t worked. In the end, her parents were dead. But if she stopped, more tragedy might befall her.

  The Dreamer’s duty was to write everything they saw in their dream diary, so that the hunters of the family would know what and where to hunt. Sarah’s diary was a black, leather-bound volume that had caused her endless anguish and symbolized all the fear she’d had to endure throughout her childhood. That volume was now a mound of cold ash in the fireplace, and its leather cover had floated down the nearby river towards the sea. Sarah had torn it page by page in a fit of anger towards her parents, towards her destiny. Burning her diary and throwing the remains into the river hadn’t changed her predicament, but it had freed her from so many terrible memories. There didn’t seem to be any need for another dream diary. Since the Scottish Valaya had been defeated and its leader Cathy Duggan killed, Sarah’s dreams had all but disappeared. At first it had been a relief, after the fraught few weeks when she’d been under nearly constant attack and dreaming like never before – but the truth was that the eerie silence that filled her nights was making her increasingly uncomfortable. Was it the quiet before the storm?

  Sean would know. In those few short months he, as Harry, had become her family, her world. Because her “cousin” was living with her, Juliet allowed Sarah to stay in her home, abiding by her parents’ will. She would never forget his arrival during these worst of times, to give her a ray of hope in such darkness.

  But he had lied. Harry Midnight was dead. Sean Hannay was his real name. Sean Hannay was the man who had pretended to be her cousin, had stolen his identity, the man who might have killed him, too. She couldn’t be sure.

  Sarah’s anger at Sean’s betrayal had been so great she had nearly used the Blackwater on him, the deadly Midnight power that could dissolve any living creature, but she had stopped herself in time. She shuddered at the memory of how close she had come. She refused to listen to his reasons, she refused to speak to him at all, and had sent him out of her house, out of her life. The night Cathy Duggan was finally killed was the last time Sarah had seen Sean.

  She missed him terribly.

  Despite everything, she missed him every day, every hour. Not even Nicholas could fill his absence, even as persistent and as heady as his presence could be. But Sean was a liar. He had made his way into her home, into her heart, on false pretences. He wasn’t her cousin, he wasn’t a Midnight – he was someone else, of whom Sarah knew a name and nothing more.

  Sarah felt that her upset must be written all over her face, and turned towards the car window, letting her hair fall between her and Juliet and cover her like a curtain.

  She didn’t want to have anything to do with Sean ever again.

  She wanted to hear his voice.

  She wanted him to come back.

  She wanted him to go away, and disappear forever.

  She didn’t know what she wanted.

  And in the middle of this swirling galaxy of Sean thoughts stood Nicholas.

  It was Nicholas who’d explained all that Sarah’s parents and Sean hadn’t told her, in their vain attempt to protect her. He had told her about the existence of other Secret Families, about the Sabha, the Secret Council that bound them together, and how the Scottish Valaya, the coven they had destroyed, was just one of many throughout the world.

  She was still in danger; Nicholas had made that clear. But she had him on her side. Of all the humans and Surari she had encountered over the past months, nothing and nobody could compare to him. The way he mastered the Elementals, the spirits of the elements, bending them to his will; the way he could call those blue flames to burn from his fingertips; the way he seemed to make her forget everything just by looking into her eyes … He had saved her life by killing Cathy, and now he was saving her from being completely alone. He had proved himself to her, over and over again.

  And still there were times, even now, when Sarah felt utterly bereft, as if there was an abyss opening right in front of her feet.

  Is this what love is?

  Sarah had no answer. Nicholas was, after all, her first boyfriend. Was this love, this heady feeling, this sense of burning up and not caring about anything, anyone but him? Not caring for herself, either. Still, in spite of her doubts, she couldn’t stay away from Nicholas. He had been there for her when nobody else was. And she was happy, wasn’t she? As happy as she could be in the mess her life now was.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  And there he was, Nicholas, waiting on the stone steps of her house. Sarah could feel Juliet’s gaze burning into her back as he put his arms around her and kissed her.

  “Well done.” Nicholas waved to Juliet over Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah turned to see Aunt Juliet waving back, a smile on her face. Her stomach knotted all of a sudden, and a feeling of sorrow, of loss, overcame her for a moment. She watched Juliet drive away as if you’d watch a drowning person sink underwater. She closed her eyes for a second, astonished at the intensity of the grief, wondering where it’d come from.

  “Sarah?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re a million
miles away. I said ‘well done’.”

  “Thanks. Thanks.” Sarah stretched her mouth into a smile, but the dreadful feeling of loss was still gripping her. “But I don’t know how it went yet. I won’t know until March.”

  Nicholas took her cello from her as she unlocked the door. “I know,” he told her. “I’ve got a feeling your performance today knocked them all out.”

  “I hope so. Come on in.” She opened the door and removed her shoes before walking in to the hallway. Nicholas knew by now of her rituals. He stood back as she hung up their coats, trying in vain to make them sit straight. Sarah’s obsessions amused him, like a charming eccentricity

  “Would you like something to eat?” she asked.

  “I’m not hungry, thanks.” He slipped his arms around her waist. Sarah tensed for a moment – she had never enjoyed being touched. But shouldn’t it be different, with your boyfriend? Nicholas kissed the top of her head and she breathed in his signature scent of soil and woodsmoke.

  “Actually, I need to talk to you,” she began.

  “Talking is not what I had in mind!” he laughed. “But sure, let’s go.”

  Sarah ignored the pang of hunger in her stomach. She was ravenous after her long day, and she would have loved to cook something. But it was somehow easier to take Nicholas’s lead. That was the way things seemed to work between them.

  Nicholas had appeared in her dreams over and over again, before they ever met in real life. She used to call him “Leaf”, because he’d leave autumn leaves on her pillow, on her doorstep, among her books, for her to find. She treasured them, pressing them into the silver photo album Juliet had given her for Christmas. Nine transparent pockets, nine leaves – red, gold and yellow. She’d kept them hidden under her bed so that Sean wouldn’t find them. Sean was always wary of him.

  Nicholas hunkered down in front of the fireplace, fuel briquettes and little twigs piled up, ready to light. He touched them with his long, pale fingers, and blue flames started burning at once, silently. Sarah wasn’t sure if she loved those blue flames or if they spooked her, dancing blue in place of a hot, red fire.