Betrayal (4 page)

I
reached the gloomy dining hall with its rows of wooden tables and benches. The high table where the mistresses sat was on a raised platform at the top of the room. The place was slowly filling up with girls wearing identical red-and-gray clothes. I scanned their faces quickly, then walked over to where a tall, fair girl was sitting alone, her pale beauty dimmed by the air of sadness that clung to her.

“Helen,” I said quietly, slipping into a seat next to her. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Helen looked up and I could tell that she had been crying. Any ideas I’d had of telling her about the note I’d just found evaporated. It looked as though she already had enough to deal with.

“I’m sorry, Evie,” she said in a low voice. “I should have come with Sarah to look for you, but I just couldn’t. I’ve been walking around the grounds all afternoon, hiding from Celeste and her gang, trying to summon up the courage to face the rest of the school.”

“You must be frozen, staying out there in that snow! Besides, you can’t hide from Celeste all term, Helen. You mustn’t let her get to you.”

“I know, I know. It’s going to be so hard, though, listening to all the talk about Mrs. Hartle.” Her voice dropped so low that it was almost inaudible. “About my mother…”

None of the other Wyldcliffe students knew that Helen was Celia Hartle’s daughter. Mrs. Hartle had abandoned Helen in a children’s home as a baby, then had secretly gotten in touch with her a year ago and brought her to Wyldcliffe. She had urged Helen to join the coven, cruelly rejecting her when Helen had refused.

“Now that she has gone, it hurts not being able to let anyone know that she was my…well, my family,” Helen went on. “Does that sound weird? When she was around, I was so angry with her for hiding the truth about me. I’ve had to hide so much, all my life. I’m still hiding. It makes me feel as though I don’t exist.” She picked nervously at the cuff of her sweater. “I hated her for being in the coven
and for what she did to Laura, and for what she tried to do to you, but she was still my mother. I suppose I hoped that one day she would remember that. And now it’s probably too late.”

“But do you really think Mrs. Hartle is gone?” I asked quietly. “Is she…is she dead?”

“Shhh!” Helen frowned warningly. The room was filling up with girls and it was impossible to talk any longer. Sarah came in and sat opposite us.

“Sorry I’ve been so long,” she said. “I had to take care of Harriet, then go down to the stable to check the ponies.” Sarah was crazy about horses and kept two in the Wyldcliffe stables.

“Did I tell you Dad has signed me up for riding lessons?” I asked lightly, unable to speak about anything more serious.

“Excellent. Mrs. Parker is a good teacher. Much better than me.” Sarah had tried to teach me to ride the term before on her pony Bonny, but although I could just about cling to Bonny’s back, I wasn’t what you’d call an elegant horsewoman. Helen fell silent as Sarah and I talked about the chances of riding over the hills in the snow; then another bell rang. The girls sprang to their feet as the staff filed in and took their places. The carved chair where the
High Mistress had always sat was left empty, like a hollow throne.

Miss Scratton, the mistress in charge of the older students, stood in front of the whole school and said the usual grace in her quiet, scholarly voice. She reminded me of a nun, with her black academic gown and her severe hairstyle and her Latin prayers…
Benedic, Domine, nos et dona tua….
In my first term at Wyldcliffe Miss Scratton had been the only one of the mistresses I had felt I could trust. I wasn’t sure why exactly, but her clear mind and scrupulously fair methods seemed to make it impossible for her to be one of those howling, grasping women that we had encountered in the crypt.

The prayer came to an end. Miss Scratton indicated that we should sit down. There was the scraping of chairs and benches and a quick rush of excitement: “She’s going to tell us something…” “I told you so…” “Some news at last…”

“Before we begin our meal, I would like to welcome you back to school,” Miss Scratton announced. “These are not easy circumstances in which to begin a new term. Sadly, our High Mistress, Mrs. Hartle, is still missing. The police are doing everything they can, and we have to carry on as normal, despite the uncertainty, despite the
loss we feel.” For a fraction of a second she seemed to look straight at Helen, who was sitting silent and stiff beside me. “In Mrs. Hartle’s absence, we must continue to strive for the high standards she always set. The school governors have put certain arrangements in place to ensure that your education will continue uninterrupted. Miss Raglan, our math mistress, has been appointed as Deputy High Mistress, and will lead the school until further notice.”

There was an intake of breath, a gasp so loud that it sounded like a fist banging on a drum. It seemed that everyone had expected Miss Scratton to be put in charge. I had certainly expected it, and when I saw the faint flush spreading over her thin face, I guessed that she had expected it too. “I am sure,” she went on determinedly, “that we will all give Miss Raglan the support and loyalty that she deserves.” She began to clap and a few people joined in, but the applause didn’t last long.

Miss Raglan stepped forward. She was tall and gray haired, with a heavy, clumsy body and an angry red complexion.

“It is an honor, even in these sad circumstances, to be responsible for Wyldcliffe,” she said. “I can assure you that everything will continue as it was under Mrs. Hartle’s inspired leadership. There will be no loss of standards.
There will be no change at all.”

She sat down abruptly in Mrs. Hartle’s tall chair, looking awkward and out of place. Miss Scratton hesitated for a moment and then said, “Please enjoy your dinner now, girls. Afterward, the lights-out bell will ring early, as it is the first day and you must all be tired from traveling.”

The women who worked in the kitchens brought out large platters of food and placed them on each table and the girls began to serve themselves obediently, their little moment of surprise over. Wyldcliffe students were used to doing as they were told. Everything would be the same; there would be no changes…. Wyldcliffe never changed. Tradition. Order. Discipline. It was the same now as it had been a hundred years ago.

I tried to eat too, but I wasn’t hungry. Celia Hartle might have gone, but I knew that any of the teachers who were surveying the rows of girls could be one of her Dark Sisters. If Mrs. Hartle was indeed dead, then sooner or later another High Mistress would rise up, eager for revenge. I looked at each one of the mistresses in turn: Miss Raglan; Miss Schofield; Mrs. Richards, who taught biology; Madame Duchesne, the French mistress; Miss Dalrymple; and all the rest. My head buzzed with questions. Had one of them written that note? I wondered.
Which of them had been in the crypt on that night last term? I had never liked or trusted Miss Raglan, and now she was in charge of the school. Was she also in charge of the coven? Or was she simply a dry, cold teacher, obsessed with the rules and traditions of this elite academy?

As I picked at my food, I looked around at the other students. I noticed that Harriet was sitting hunched over her plate, not saying a word to the girls near her. I guess she’d been shown the true Wyldcliffe welcome. Not having looks or money or confidence to recommend her, Harriet had already been dumped to fend for herself. The rest of the girls—so rich, so well connected, so attractive—seemed to have been protected from every evil from the moment they were born. And yet Laura had been one of those golden girls and she had fallen victim to Wyldcliffe’s secrets. I suddenly felt that I wanted to root out the sickness at the heart of the Abbey for all our sakes, not just for Sebastian.

Dinner was over. More prayers, more standing to attention as the staff filed out, followed by the rows of girls. As Sarah turned to leave, I grabbed her arm. “Meet me and Helen after lights-out,” I whispered.

“Where?”

I mouthed two words:
the grotto
.

Sarah nodded in silent agreement and walked out after the others, heading for her dorm. I turned to Helen.

“Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible,” I said. As scholarship students, Helen and I both had to do various mindless chores to show our undying gratitude: tidying classrooms, sorting out music books for choir practice, stuff like that. Usually after supper we set trays with china cups and silver spoons, ready for the staff to take their coffee in the mistresses’ common room. I went over to a cupboard at the side of the room where everything was kept and began to arrange the trays, while Helen knocked on the door to the kitchens to ask for some cream. A flustered woman in a rather greasy apron opened the door and peered at us.

“No, not tonight, she doesn’t want you doing it anymore. She doesn’t want students hanging around, she said.”

“Who did?” I asked.

But the woman scuttled back into the hot kitchen. I felt that someone was watching me. When I turned around, I noticed that Miss Raglan was still sitting in her carved chair on the raised platform, slowly twisting her hands together.

“I gave the orders,” she said, getting up and walking
toward us. “You are relieved of this duty.”

“But you said there wouldn’t be any changes,” replied Helen. I was surprised. She usually kept quiet in front of the mistresses. “Mrs. Hartle always asked us to get the coffee trays ready. You said everything would continue just the same.”

“I was not referring to such trivial matters.”

“I don’t think Mrs. Hartle’s wishes should be seen as trivial.”

“What? Are you questioning my authority?”

“Of course not,” Helen replied. “You’re the High Mistress now, aren’t you?”

She stared fearlessly into Miss Raglan’s heavy face, holding the older woman’s gaze, until Miss Raglan seemed to stagger and step backward.

“I…I am the Deputy High Mistress; that is all. Naturally we hope that Mrs. Hartle will return shortly…naturally…. Well, carry on.”

Miss Raglan stumped away, reminding me of a beaten dog. I looked at Helen in amazement. “What was all that about?”

“I don’t really know.” She shrugged. “I kind of felt the need to challenge her somehow. Sorry. I guess we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves.” She looked down and started
polishing a spoon, then sighed heavily. “Perhaps it’s just me, but I feel so trapped. We’ll have to be careful, Evie. I feel them hovering on every side, watching, waiting….”

“Waiting for what?”

Helen sighed again. “Waiting for us to make a mistake.”

FROM THE PRIVATE PAPERS OF
S
EBASTIAN
J
AMES
F
AIRFAX

Waiting—waiting—waiting—

Waiting for the end.

I have lost count of the nights since I last saw you. But this night feels different. Something is going to happen. Something has changed.

This place is as cold as death. My limbs ache and my breath turns to clouds of ice. Winter, it must be, in the outside world where seasons still exist. When I was a boy I would wait for the first snows, as though waiting for a miracle—

Something is happening. The silence of this place is broken by the sound of the sea on a distant shore. I feel the waves breaking and beating in my heart. I sense you near.

Have you come back, my darling? Have you risked everything to return to this valley of secrets?

I will wait for you.

This night feels different.

A power has returned to Wyldcliffe, pulsing with life like the sun. The air is more alive. Everything is watching and waiting—

I am waiting for you. Do you still think of me?

What will be the next part of our story, Evie? Are you still hoping for a miracle? Do you dream that Agnes, the gentle healer, will reach across the void to touch me with her great gifts? I rejected her help long ago, and I fear she cannot help me now. But miracles do exist. This air. This darkness. The snow that lies all around this sleeping house. The stars overhead. How profoundly mysterious everything is! Not only the strange paths that we have walked, but the ordinary things that I took so much for granted. The earth under my feet. Every individual life: each tree, each bird, each child. Every precious soul—

They are all mysteries. We are surrounded by miracles.

You are my miracle.

So I will wait. I will hope. Here, in my darkness, I will lift my eyes to the sunrise.

I will wait for you.

I
was waiting.

Tick…tock…tick…

The little alarm clock on my bedside table counted away the minutes, its metallic drone tempting me to close my eyes. I was used to this. Night after night the term before, I had lain in this narrow white bed, waiting to hear the regular breathing of Celeste and Sophie as they drifted off to sleep. I knew how India would sometimes mutter as she turned over in bed, and how Helen lay rigid on her back, staring up at the ceiling until her eyes grew too heavy for her to stay awake any longer. I knew every creak of every floorboard in that bare, white room. Night after night, I had slipped out of the dorm and crept down the old servants’ staircase to meet Sebastian in secret. And
tonight he might be waiting for me once again…. Perhaps the miracle would have happened.

Tick…tock…tick…

When I felt the room settle into sleep around me, I groped on the floor for my shoes, pulled my robe on, and crept out. I didn’t wait for Helen. She would get to our meeting with Sarah in her own way.

Gliding down the hushed corridor, I slipped through the curtained door that led to the old back stairs. As I closed the door behind me, I was plunged into blackness, shut off from the rest of the school. For an instant a stab of panic shot through me. I had always been stupidly scared of the dark, fearful of being trapped in a lightless, narrow place and left to suffocate. I grabbed a small flashlight that I had hidden in my pocket and flicked it on. That was better.
Breathe, Evie, don’t forget to breathe….
The little beam of light revealed the dusty wooden stairs that had once been used by the servants when Agnes had lived ay Wyldcliffe. Now this part of the building was out-of-bounds, but I didn’t care. I didn’t live by their rules anymore. Clutching my flashlight, I tiptoed down the steps. I wasn’t going to let childish fears stop me now.

Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four…fifty-five, fifty-six…
I counted the steps until I reached the bottom. To one side, a door led back into the main part of the school. In the other direction a musty passageway led to the old servants’ wing, a warren of moldering storerooms and pantries. I forced myself to walk into the icy blackness, past a rusting row of old servants’ bells, past the rustle of mice in the walls. At last I reached a faded green door that led out to the stables. I drew back the bolts and stepped outside.

The cobblestones of the stable yard were bright with frost, and the sky seemed high and clear and far away. A thin cloud passed across the moon, like a trail of silvery smoke. I paused for a second. How profoundly mysterious everything was, I thought. Not only the strange paths that Sebastian had taken me down, but the ordinary things that we all took so much for granted. The stars overhead. The earth under our feet. People. Friendship. Love. They were all mysteries, full of power and danger—especially love.

I had to hurry.

I crossed the yard, then ran lightly down the icy paths and across the snow-covered lawns. A few minutes later I reached the edge of a wide lake, its waters as black as the sky. Next to the lake, the famous ruins of Wyldcliffe’s
ancient chapel loomed up like a ghostly ship. I came to a halt, my legs suddenly trembling, my heart beating wildly.

Here the medieval nuns had once worshipped; here Agnes had lain in death on the cold earth. And it was here that Sebastian and I had met in secret, under the northern stars. It was here that we had talked, and laughed, and quarreled, and made up again. It was here that we had first kissed….

Reality hit hard. Sebastian wasn’t waiting for me under the ruined arches. There was going to be no quick-fix solution, no easy fairy-tale happy ending. If Sebastian couldn’t work the miracle, I would have to do it myself.

But I couldn’t do it alone. I needed the Talisman and I needed my sisters—Helen and Sarah and Agnes. I left the lake and the chapel behind and ran over the frozen earth, on and on into the dark.

Sarah lit a candle and stuck it in a niche in the wall and the cave sprang to glowing life. We were in the grotto, a weird underground folly built by Agnes’s father at the far edge of the Abbey’s grounds. Its walls were decorated with glinting mosaics of mythical creatures, and a stream trickled around a statue of Pan. The yellow light
of the candle flickered over the grotesque images, bringing them briefly to life.

“Did anyone see you coming here?” I asked.

“No, I’m pretty sure we’re safe—for the moment. But I wish Helen would get here. There’s so much that we need to decide.”

Just then a wind sprang up, sharp and cold and scented with wild heather. Our hair blew across our faces and the candle flame flickered. I caught hold of Sarah’s hand as the wind whirled around us and a haze of silver light began to glow. I thought I could hear a distant sound, like birdsong in the middle of a storm. The next moment, the wind dropped and Helen seemed to step out of the silvery light, slightly flushed and out of breath.

“Sorry,” she said, pulling a wry face. “It must look a bit freaky, turning up like that.”

“It was amazing,” said Sarah. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

I reached out to touch Helen’s arm. She was really there, suddenly in front of us. Helen had told us about her extraordinary ability—what did she call it…dancing on the wind? She could get to any place she wanted by stepping through the air with the power of her thought, like a knife cutting through silk.

“You really can do it,” I said in wonder. “That is incredible.”

“No more incredible than what you did last term, Evie, making the lake rise up,” Helen replied with a self-conscious smile. “We’ve all got powers. The question is, how are we going to use them?”

I suddenly felt cold. This wasn’t about amazing feats to delight openmouthed spectators, like a circus act. This was deadly serious.

“I guess you both know what I want to do,” I answered quickly. “I want to look for Sebastian and use the Talisman to help him. We know that I can’t give him the Talisman of my own free will. I tried that last term and it didn’t work. The only way Sebastian can use it is if he breaks the bond between me and the Talisman by killing me. And the only way I can use it is if I discover its secrets and find out for myself how to awaken it.” I had rehearsed this speech over and over, but it didn’t make it any easier, and I faltered. “I know—I know it all sounds crazy. And I know it could be dangerous. I need your help, but you’re my best friends. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Where do you think Sebastian is now? And why hasn’t he been in touch with you?” asked Helen.

“There are only three possibilities,” I said, trying to
stay calm and unemotional. “Either Sebastian has already faded and gone beyond our reach forever. Or he is lying in hiding somewhere, getting weaker, hoping that I’m coming back to him. Or…” It was hard even to say it. “Or he has stopped loving me and is my enemy, with only one aim—to kill me and steal the Talisman.”

“Sebastian hasn’t faded completely, not yet,” Sarah said slowly.

I looked up at Sarah. She sometimes had flashes of intuition about people, perhaps inherited from her long-ago Romany ancestors. I had learned to trust her when it happened. “What do you mean? Why do you think that?”

“There’s such a strong connection between you that I’m sure you would know if that had happened. Besides, I sense him here in Wyldcliffe’s valley, like a faint pulse of energy. Don’t you?”

“Yes, it’s exactly like that.” Eagerly, I told her about the times he had appeared to me: on the beach, in my dreams, and in my head, like the murmur of the sea. “I think he’s trying to reach me.”

“But is it you that he wants, or the Talisman?” Helen’s voice was low and sad. “Sebastian told you that as he faded further into the shadow world, he would forget all human
ties. Once he’s on the edge of existence he might not be able to control his desire to rip it from you, even if it means destroying you. He warned you what would happen.”

“But he doesn’t want the Talisman,” I argued. “He didn’t use it that night in the crypt. He would rather fade into a demon spirit than hurt me.”

“But he had only just begun to fade then,” Helen replied. “If it comes to a final choice between joining the Unconquered or becoming their eternal slave, can you really be sure what Sebastian would do?”

“And what about the coven?” said Sarah. “The Dark Sisters still want the Talisman. Sebastian promised them the secrets of everlasting life if they helped him to find it. They have waited, generation after generation, for him to give them what he promised. He might have changed his mind about the whole thing, but they haven’t. The coven will do everything they can to take the Talisman from you, Evie, and force Sebastian to use it, before it’s too late.”

“But Mrs. Hartle’s gone. Isn’t the coven weaker without her? Have they had time to find another High Mistress?”

“I can’t believe my mother’s dead,” Helen said. “That night last term she was damaged in some way. She took the biggest hit and had the biggest shock when we opposed her. But she hasn’t gone, and neither has the coven.”

Reluctantly, I showed them the scrap of paper with its stark warning. “I think this must be from one of the Dark Sisters. I found it in the dorm.”

“So they’re getting ready to attack you again,” said Sarah grimly. “Like I said, the coven doesn’t want to see Sebastian delivered into the hands of the Unconquered. They want to make use of him for their own ends.”

The Unconquered…the coven…the shadows…

I suddenly felt hot and faint and I crumpled to the ground. A sheet of scarlet flame seemed to leap behind my eyes, and the smell of blood was sharp and sour in my nostrils. The light faded around me and I saw a man with a merciless, beautiful face, crowned with livid fire. It was one of the Unconquered lords and he was circling around Sebastian, who looked pitifully pale and ill. As the demon master came nearer, I felt my skin being scorched by his foul presence. Then I saw myself thrusting the Talisman into his crimson eyes, as I chanted a stream of unknown words and shielded Sebastian with my body.

“No!” I cried. “Leave him; don’t touch him!”

“Evie, what’s happening?” asked Helen.

“I saw him! I saw Sebastian!” I gasped and shuddered. “Sebastian’s master—he’s getting closer all the time. But Sebastian’s still in this world and he’s alone. I’m sure the
coven doesn’t know where he is.” I sprang to my feet and faced my friends. “I’ve got to do something, now, before it’s too late. Look, I’ve got something that they want—the Talisman. The Dark Sisters believe that the Talisman holds the key to immortality. If it’s really that powerful, why be so afraid of them? Can’t I use it myself to fight them? If I can work out how to use the Talisman, I can reach Agnes’s powers—I’ll wield the sacred fire, like she did. With such power I could stop Sebastian from fading, or reverse time…or…or…Oh, I don’t know, but I’ve got to find a way out of this. I can’t let him fade into some kind of demon, I just can’t!”

“We know you can’t,” said Sarah softly. “And we can’t let you face this alone. You don’t have to ask for our help. We’ll go anywhere you go, and do anything you need us to.”

“Sarah’s right,” Helen said, her clear eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “It will be dangerous to try to help Sebastian, but it’s just as dangerous to do nothing and wait for the coven to attack. I’m with you, Evie. When do we start?”

I hugged them both, unable to speak. “You’re the best friends I could ever have,” I mumbled incoherently.

“Friends?” Sarah smiled. “I thought we were sisters?”

I laughed suddenly, as though nothing could crush the feeling of strength and life that was rushing though me.
We were united. As we hugged and laughed and cried, an echo of Agnes’s voice rang around the cave:
My sisters…my sisters…

Four sisters, four elements, one purpose. And there was hope burning inside me, like a pure white flame.