Eternal (22 page)

“I was trying to find out about Maria—”

“I thought finding Evie was your priority,” he interrupted.

I flushed and snapped, “I know, but I can’t do everything at once. I just feel it’s important. Anyway, how on earth did you get in here? The staff wil go mad if they see you.”

“No, they won’t—I’m official y Josh’s new assistant. He told the school he’s busy studying for col ege and can’t come every day, so I wil be doing some of his work in the stables instead. It gives me the perfect excuse to be here.”

“And keep an eye on me?”

“I’m not spying on you, if that’s what you mean.” His voice was proud and hard. “Helen came to the stables just now to see Josh. She said she thought you’d be in Agnes’s room and told me how to find it using the secret staircase. I wanted to help you, but I won’t bother if you don’t need me.” We stood glaring at each other. I didn’t understand why I was so angry with him. Al I knew was that I hadn’t wanted to return from where I had been and he had forced me to.

“I’m not used to needing anyone,” I replied, every bit as proud and haughty as Cal.

“Fine. Do this your own way. But I’l tel you one thing—

Josh isn’t going to just hang around while you wait to get your ‘feelings.’ We searched the river right up to the waterfal , and across the marsh-bog last night looking for Evie, but there was no sign of her. He’s going out on the moors again this morning to look for her, and if that doesn’t work, he’s ready to go to the police and tel them everything.”

“What can the police do?” I muttered sul enly. “They won’t be able to find Evie, or track down Miss Scratton either.”

“I can’t say I’m particularly fond of the police myself,” Cal said with a hint of his old grin. “But they’l start some kind of investigation,” he went on. “Josh is getting desperate, and he thinks anything that might bring Evie closer is better than nothing. But the authorities could close this place down if there’s any more scandal,” Cal added. “If they send you al home, how wil you have any chance of finding Evie again or dealing with this evil spirit—the Priestess? You have to work fast. Maria is only a ghost—a memory, that’s al . Evie is real. If she’s alive, she needs you desperately.

You’ve got to find her first.”

I knew he was right, but knowing that annoyed me even more.

“I wil find Evie, and without your help,” I shouted. “Maria wil help me. I know she wil . The spirits of the dead can see us stil —that’s Romany wisdom, isn’t it?”

“Fine,” he shouted back, his pride flaming into anger. “If you’re such an expert, you sort everything out with your dead great-grandmother. I’l go back to where I belong.”

“Go then—I don’t care! I know what I’m doing.”

“I hope you do, Sarah,” Cal said. “I real y hope you do.”

Then he turned and left. I heard his footsteps on the narrow stairs. As the sound quickly receded into the distance, I wished I could take every word back, but it was too late.

I wanted to cry, but what was the good? I hardened myself against the terrible sense of loss that I felt. If Cal walked out of Wyldcliffe and went back to his family, I would never have the chance to explain or make things up with him. Well, let him go, I told myself, trying to rekindle my anger. Feeling anger was better than feeling despair.

Our quarrel had been his fault too, I told myself. He had been ridiculously touchy and impatient. I glanced down at the thin circlet that I was stil clutching in my hands, and at the soft folds of the dress that lay on Agnes’s desk. I would never wear that dress for Cal now, but I stil had the circlet.

That would lead me to Maria, I was sure, and somehow, I was convinced, Maria would lead me to Evie. I would show Cal that I had been right, I would show everyone. . . .

I gathered up my treasures and held them against my heart, but they couldn’t fil the emptiness that was in me now that Cal was gone.

I found nothing that day. The crypt under the ruins was damp and empty, as though no one had been down there for months, and the secret grotto—the fanciful y decorated cavern in the school grounds that led to the crypt—was deserted too. By the middle of the afternoon I was tired, and not just with sneaking about and trying to avoid being seen while the rest of the school went about its business.

For the first time I started to wonder whether I real y would find Evie. Josh’s plans to go and report everything to the police began to seem inevitable. There would be publicity, a missing person’s inquiry, and Evie’s father would be dragged into al this, out of his mind with worry. And I would never see her again.

No. That couldn’t be how it ended. I wouldn’t let that happen. I was strong, I told myself. I was Sarah. Even without Cal I could do this. I would see it through. My mind wearily checked over every possible place in the school where I should stil search for Evie, or where I might find some clue, and then it struck me that I had been so stupid.

Of course, I stil had the Book. It might contain a spel that would teach me al I needed to know. To Finde that which is Loste—it had to have the answer in its il uminated pages.

I had returned the Book to its hiding place in Starlight’s stable after we had used it to make the healing potion for Helen. I hoped that I wouldn’t bump into Cal again. I just wasn’t ready to face him, but I was lucky, and when I reached the cobbled yard no one else seemed to be around. Quickly I let myself into Starlight’s stal . My faithful pony whinnied with delight, anticipating a gal op, but I gently quieted him, then pushed the straw to one side and lifted the loose brick where the Book of the Mystic Way was hidden. I took it out and sat cross-legged with my back to the wal and rested the leather-bound tome on my knee.

When I tried to open it, though, I couldn’t, however hard I tugged at the cover. Feeling a surge of panic, I laid my hand on the green leather and wil ed, “Open. Open to me,”

as I had when I’d unlocked the door of Agnes’s study. Then the Book sprang apart, its pages flapping as though in an invisible wind. The intricate writing and drawings and symbols became a confused jumble as the pages flipped over rapidly, before coming to a sudden stop. Now the Book lay open on my knee, but the writing on the page didn’t look like a set of instructions for a charm or a spel .

Instead I could just about decipher the cramped letters to read the fol owing message.

“Beware! Oh ye who seeke the Truth and Lighte, ye must know this: There are those who brush against the Mysticke Way, as a lost sheep may brush against an Oak Tree in its wanderings. These Women are neither true Sisters of the Sacred Elements, nor Servants of the Shadows, and yet if they stray too far, they may take all to Ruine with them. Let it be knowne that these Women are called Touchstones. With them it is as though the Lightning strikes them, yet they feel it not, and see not whither it leads, nor whence it came. An Elemental Power such as Fire may touch this Woman to reveal itself, and yet she will know not by what she has been touched.

Some Touchstones may live in simple

innocence, never questioning why Marvels occur near them: why, by example, a well may gush over with wholesome Waters when they chance to pass, or why good harvests come to their village, or why the Fire in their hearths burns up brighter and longer than any of their Neighbors’. But there are others whose Heartes are not so pure, and through them, great troubles may come. With them, the Fire burns the harvest, the Waters of the stream dry up, and the Wind blows in such wild measures as to blow down their Neighbors’ houses. Such a one may come to know themselves to be a Touchstone.

Then they seek not the Wisdom or Discipline of the Mysticke Way, only its glory. Indeed they may choose to use the power that they unwittingly attract for Destruction and Evil, and in doing so may be sucked into the Shadows, where they can do great Harme.

All Life flows in magnetick energy (which doth unite the Elements), from Birth to Death, from the Earth to the Heavens, from one Heart to Another, like a great and sacred Dance. A Black Touchstone usurps the right path of the Dance and destroys its flow and no good can come of this, like wickedly damming a River to create a terrible Floode that washes all living creatures away with its mighty Force.

I had to read it more than once to understand what it was saying, and even then I couldn’t quite accept what I knew in my heart to be its message—that Velvet was a Touchstone. The fire at her last school, the tragic accident with her sister, her boyfriend’s suicide, even her part in Helen’s fal from the window—they al made a kind of sense now. Velvet in some way attracted untamed energy, a kind of overspil from the elements, and the darkness in her own heart turned this to a negative, destructive force.

They all get hurt, she had said, and now I knew why. I leaned against the rough wal of the stable. It was al too much. I couldn’t deal with everything by myself. And now I had quarreled with Cal—over what? A dream?

The time for dreams was over.

I went to look for Helen and found her sitting alone in the common room, curled up in an armchair. She had a book of poetry in her hand but was staring into space, her mouth moving slightly as though chanting to herself. She gave a start when she saw me.

“You didn’t find Evie, did you?”

I shook my head and sank into a chair next to her.

“Helen, what real y happened when you fel from the window? Did Miss Scratton make that happen too? Or was it your mother?”

Helen’s face clouded. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“Was—was Velvet there before it happened? Did you see her?”

“Yes, she was. I remember seeing her. Why?”

“Sophie said that she saw her looking down from the window after you had fal en.” I rapidly told Helen what I had just read in the Book and what my suspicions were about Velvet. “She seems to have some way of making bad things happen. And if she gets drawn into the path of the coven or your mother it could be even worse.”

Helen held her head in her hands and gently rocked backward and forward, trying to remember.

“It was Sunday afternoon,” she began. “I’d been lying on my bed in the dorm but I felt restless, so I went out into the corridor and walked up and down, just pacing aimlessly.

No one was around. It felt so hot and stuffy, so I opened the window—the arched one opposite the staircase that looks over the front drive. I wanted to get some fresh air.

“I remember looking out at the moors in the distance, and I wished I was up on their heights, letting the wind push me wherever it liked. I wondered where my mother’s spirit was roaming, and if I dared try to dance on the wind again.

I hadn’t been able to do it when we were trying to get into Agnes’s room, but I got this idea that if I could send myself through the air to wherever my mother was and surrender to her, she might be satisfied. If she destroyed me or took me into her power, or whatever it is that she wants, I thought perhaps she would leave you and Evie alone at last. At that moment it seemed that it didn’t real y matter what happened to me, as long as you two were safe.”

“Oh, Helen, you mustn’t ever think that—”

“I couldn’t see how else you were ever going to get free of her. Anyway, as I was standing there trying to decide what to do, I heard someone coming down the corridor. It was Velvet. She had a riding whip in her hand. She stopped and looked at me oddly, like she guessed my thoughts. And then—it’s hard to describe. A wind blew up, like a freak storm. The window kind of fel out of the wal , and I fel too. I didn’t have time to think, but I knew I would be smashed to pieces on the steps below. Then the next second—wel , I was floating. Floating peaceful y. I wasn’t in my body anymore. I was in a great white space, and I was dancing, like in a dream. But I wasn’t alone. There was someone I was dancing with . . .” Her voice trailed away.

“What happened then?”

“There were people and voices. They were fighting over me. I wanted to be free—and they wouldn’t let me alone—I don’t remember exactly. Then Miss Scratton was there, saying, ‘No, not yet, it’s not your time. You have to wait for the Priestess. You must become the Priestess.’

“After that the white space vanished. Everything went dark. I wanted to come back, but Miss Scratton wouldn’t let me. She was holding me, and it hurt. It hurt me in my mind.”

Helen looked at me unhappily. “I don’t know if I can ever dance on the wind again.”

“Have you tried since then?”

She sighed. “Yes, this morning when you were searching for Evie. I wanted to get to the place that Evie is being held, to find her, even if it meant being in danger. But it was like last time, I couldn’t do it. Something is watching me and holding me back. I’m real y sorry.”

“Do you think it’s Miss Scratton again?”

“I don’t know. It was like—I can’t explain—like someone was sitting on my wings, if that makes any sense.”

It made sense, but we stil weren’t any closer to knowing what to do, or exactly how Velvet fitted into everything. I jumped up and began to walk up and down impatiently.

“But even if Miss Scratton is preventing you from doing that, surely we have other powers?” I said. “What could we do to attack the Priestess and her coven—or disarm Velvet—before they hurt Evie?”

“We can’t use our powers for attack, only defense. Only for the common good.”

“But I made the earth shake, down in the crypt in our first battle with the coven, and I destroyed a wal , and tore up rocks on the hil top—”

“Those battles were forced upon us, Sarah. We can’t be the ones to start the conflict.”

“But we have to do something! The Priestess has already attacked us. She has taken Evie. We have to fight back.”

“What are you going to do? Cause an earthquake at Wyldcliffe? Lock Miss Dalrymple in a mound of earth until she tel s you where Evie is?” It sounded absurd like that, but it wasn’t a mil ion miles from what I had been thinking.

“Anyway,” Helen went on, “what does Cal think we should do? He sees straight. You can trust him.”

I sat down again, feeling raw and stupid. “I don’t know.

You’l have to ask him,” I said.