Dreams (Sarah Midnight Trilogy 1) (2 page)

Shadow came to greet her, brushing herself against Sarah’s legs with a slow, soft purr. She was completely black but for a little white paw, and her eyes were a deep, golden amber. Sarah had come home from school one day, two years before, to find her sitting on their doorstep. She was just a kitten, but she had a look of defiance, as if to say
I’m meant to live with you, you can’t turn me away
. Sarah had opened the door, and the kitten had walked in as if she’d owned the place. She started following Sarah everywhere, and because of that, James suggested calling her ‘Sarah’s Shadow’, which was eventually shortened to Shadow.

“Sarah! Where have you been? I was worried sick!” Aunt Juliet stormed into the kitchen in her dressing gown and slippers.

“Out. I needed air.” Sarah refused to look at her.

“Air? It’s past midnight!”

Sarah ignored her.

A defiant, impossible teenager, thought Juliet. As if she didn’t have enough worry with her own daughters, now she had to look after this difficult, passionate, wonderful girl. Because that’s what Juliet thought of Sarah: that she was wonderful. Sarah had no idea, and Juliet would never have said. But Juliet also felt it was her duty to guide Sarah, shape her, mould her – and that’s why their relationship didn’t stand a chance, because Sarah would
not
be guided, let alone moulded into something she wasn’t.

Juliet had a good heart, really, and she meant well. But she could never understand Sarah fully, just like she had never understood her own sister, Anne.

“You can’t go wandering around alone at night. There are bad people around, surely you know that!”

Bad people, and plenty of other … things,
thought Sarah,
wiping the already perfect kitchen table
. Memories of the hunt came flooding back. Lily’s terrified face, the terrible heat of the blackwater in her hands …
That’s how the rest of my life is going to be. Dreaming and hunting, until one day something will get me, like it got my parents
.

A lifetime of dreams. Her own private torture, one that she could never escape.

They had started when she’d turned thirteen, like it usually happened to the Midnight girls. She’d dream of creatures that tormented, hurt, killed innocent people; and in the visions she was
there
, sometimes as a witness, sometimes as the victim. It was Sarah’s duty to write it all in her dream diary, down to the last detail, so that her parents would know what and where to hunt. Now that her parents were gone, it was up to her to interpret the dreams.

It had never been difficult. Her dreams had always been detailed, precise, reliable. But since Sarah’s parents had died, things had changed. Her dreams had become unpredictable, confused. The information they gave had become muddled, the setting surreal: places she had no idea where to find, places that didn’t belong to this world. Sarah was in the dark. Her only guide was her Midnight instinct, albeit weakened by grief and fear.

“Thank goodness you’re going back to school soon. A bit of normality. Well, if anything can be normal again,” Juliet added with genuine sadness. “When you come and stay with us, no more going out like this without telling me exactly where you’re going and when you’re coming back.”

Sarah threw the cloth across the room in a fit of anger.

“I’m not coming to stay with you! I’m staying here! This is my home!”

Juliet looked at her with tenderness, but Sarah misunderstood. To her it looked like pity, and Sarah couldn’t bear to be pitied.

“I know, darling, I know …” Juliet put out her hand to touch Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah pulled away.

“I’m so sorry that all this had to happen to you. I wish you could stay in your own home, really I do. But your parents decided that you can’t live alone until you turn eighteen, and frankly I agree with them. We’ll look after you. There’s no other way. You can’t go against your parents’ wishes; you’d lose this house, you’d lose everything. And anyway, you couldn’t possibly defy their last wish …”

Sarah felt her eyes well up. She thought of her home, her wonderful grey sandstone villa. She thought of her room, painted a light, silvery grey that shimmered in the sunshine and in the moonlight … the long, white voile curtains flowing in the breeze every time she opened the window … the view from her room, the vast garden, and beyond it, the moors and hills, purple with heather, wild and windy. She thought of her parents’ room, their chaotic den with clothes and books all over the floor … how upset it always made her, whenever she walked in, to see everything so …
out of control
. She thought of her mum’s mirrored console, where Anne used to brush her long black hair – the beautiful hair that Sarah had inherited. So many times Sarah had sat at that console, playing with her mum’s make-up and perfumes.

Most of all, Sarah thought of the basement, now locked shut. The secret room where Anne and James kept their weapons, and their maps, and the books nobody was supposed to see. Where her mum kept the herbs and stones and candles and all the mysterious items she used for her spells and charms, one of which Sarah was now wearing around her neck, hidden from view: a small red velvet pouch filled with pine needles, a tiny garlic clove, and a pink quartz. A protection charm.

No charm has worked for them though
, Sarah thought bitterly.

How on earth could she have explained those things, if somebody found them, if she wasn’t there to guard them? How on earth could she get rid of them? Bury them in the garden, or burn them in a big bonfire? Her parents’ lives, turning to ash, turning to nothing. Sarah couldn’t let this happen.

She
had
to find a way to stay in her home.

“By the way, your cousin called for you today.” Juliet’s voice interrupted her train of thought.

“My cousin?”

“Harry. He was calling from London. I never met him. Fancy missing your own uncle’s funeral.”

“They hadn’t spoken in years,” Sarah answered in a small voice. Her dad and his brother Stewart had fallen out many years before – Sarah had never been told why. A few years after the rift between the brothers, word had come through that both Stewart and his wife had died, leaving Harry to be brought up by distant relatives in New Zealand. He was fifteen. Anne and James got a card once in a while, but neither party had made much effort to keep in touch. Sarah suspected that the argument had been very bitter, to create such distance between the Midnight brothers.

“Well, he said to check your email. Sarah, you’re soaking! What happened to you?”

“It rained. At the play park.”

“You were at the play park? In the middle of the night?”

Sarah took a deep breath. “I’m tired. I’m going to have a shower and go to bed.”

“You’ve had no dinner. Eat something, at least!” But Sarah had already gone up the stairs and into her room.

She threw herself on the bed, followed by Shadow, who curled up at her feet. Sarah loved feeling Shadow’s soft pink nose against her own, and the cat’s whiskers brushing her cheek softly.

“It’s just us now, baby, just us,” Sarah whispered into her fur.

She needed a shower. She dragged herself to the bathroom, while Shadow remained at a safe distance from the water, perched upright on the window sill, her amber eyes glowing in the semi-darkness of the room.

Sarah closed her eyes under the water flow, letting it wash away the blackwater, the adrenaline, the fear. She emerged half an hour later, wrapped in a towel, her long black hair dripping, and sat cross-legged on her bed, trying to keep the duvet as straight as she could. She switched her laptop on.

One new message.

        Hello Sarah, your cousin Harry here. You probably don’t remember me, you only saw me once, when you were still a baby. Your parents and mine had their differences and didn’t speak for a long time, but Uncle James and I had started writing to each other in the last few months. How cruel that they had to go now, when we had just started getting closer. You must be going through hell. I know what really happened to them. We need to talk. I’m coming back to Scotland. I’d be grateful if you could put me up for a bit.

            Take care,

            Harry

Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. He knew! She wasn’t alone in that terrible knowledge, in knowing why her parents had died so horribly. There was, after all, another Midnight to share the burden. And maybe if Harry came to stay, she wouldn’t have to move out.

Feeling that something important might have happened, Shadow jumped on Sarah’s bed and sat beside her, looking at the screen.

“Of course, Harry,” whispered Sarah under her breath, her fingers moving quickly on the keyboard. “Of course I’ll put you up for a bit.” She smiled, for the first time since … since it all happened.

        Dear Harry,

        They’re throwing me out of my house because my parents decided I can’t stay here on my own. Come ASAP. Stay at least until I’m 18. ☺

        Sarah

Sarah stroked Shadow’s fur a couple of times, and a new message popped on the screen.

        I’m at the airport. See you in an hour.

At the airport! He’s already here!
Sarah’s heart began to beat faster. She felt a glimmer of hope, at last. She dried her hair quickly, threw on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt, and went downstairs to the kitchen. She was suddenly hungry, properly hungry, like she could actually
eat
.

Sarah loved cooking; it was her refuge. She was brilliant at baking, and she often made cakes and scones for her parents, to restore them after a night spent hunting. She kept all her cookery books neatly on a shelf in the kitchen, and poured over them, reeling in the domesticity of pasta making and chopping and slow-cooking, when all around her was chaos and fear.

Trying to be as quiet as possible – she didn’t particularly care if Juliet was woken up, she just didn’t want the hassle – she took flour, oil, salt and yeast out of the cupboard and arranged them on the kitchen table. She mixed and kneaded and moulded, loving the feeling and the smell of the dough in her hands. There, the perfect Sarah-sized little pizza. Now she had to clean everything up, or the mess would have made her too anxious to swallow anything.

When she’d finished, she poured some milk for Shadow, which the kitten barely touched (she was a good hunter, and had had plenty to eat earlier, while Sarah was hunting too) and waited for her pizza to be cooked. Ten minutes later she devoured the whole thing down to the last crumb. She hadn’t realized how hungry she really was. That pizza was her first proper meal in weeks.

Sarah was chewing the last morsel when the doorbell rang. She cleaned her fingers and her mouth quickly and sprang to her feet.
Could it be Harry, already?
She stood behind the kitchen door. She wanted the chance to look at him for a minute before he saw her.

She heard Juliet dash down the stairs, probably to check if any unsuitable friends of Sarah’s were visiting the house at that time of night.

“Hello. I’m Harry Midnight.” A deep, vibrant voice with the hint of a New Zealand accent.“You must be Juliet. Thanks for looking after Sarah. Now you can go. Well, get dressed first.”

Sarah stifled a smile.

“Chop chop. Don’t worry. I’m family. We’ll look after each other.” The amusement in his voice was palpable.

“There is
no way
I’ll leave her alone with … with you!” Juliet cried out, as soon as she regained the ability to speak.

“No, I suppose not. Well, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

Sarah took a little step forward, still hiding behind the door, to try and catch a glimpse of him. He was tall with blond hair and light-blue eyes, so clear that they almost shone. The whole Midnight family was fair, blond and blue- or green-eyed – Sarah had inherited her black hair from her mother – but in spite of his colouring, Harry looked quite different from James and Stewart. He had stronger features, with a long, straight nose, a soft-lipped mouth, and his most striking trait: those eyes, big, expressive, full of life. And a sharp light in them, a light that said
don’t come too close
, like a warning. He was wearing a blue hooded jacket, and jeans that had seen better times – he looked like someone you wouldn’t mess with, someone who could look after himself.

Sarah decided she’d seen enough. She ventured into the corridor. Her heart was jumping out of her chest. Her future depended on this man.

“Harry,” she whispered. Her voice sounded uncertain, but her gaze told a different story. She was looking straight into Harry’s eyes.

She’s strong
, he thought at once.

“Sarah.”

The pale complexion, the small nose and mouth, the way she kept her chin slightly raised in a gesture of pride and defiance; and those eyes, impossibly green. She was a Midnight through and through.

Harry’s gaze was so intense on her, it suddenly felt too much. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room,” she said brusquely, to break the spell.“We can talk upstairs,” she added, throwing an imperceptible glance at Juliet. Harry understood at once.

They walked upstairs, followed by Shadow, past Juliet, ignoring her as if she’d been a coat hanger. Like a flash, Juliet was on the phone to Trevor. Her voice was drifting from the hallway, and Sarah and Harry could hear bits of what she was saying.