Betrayal (8 page)

W
e stood in silent rows in the dining hall and waited for Miss Raglan, the Deputy High Mistress, to speak. Harriet Templeton and Julia Symons were standing next to her. They both looked upset.

“We have some bad news, girls,” said Miss Raglan. “This afternoon, while you were enjoying your recreation time, one person has shown no regard for the comfort or happiness of our community.” Her words were somber, but she seemed agitated, excited even. “There has been a series of thefts. These two girls have lost something valuable this afternoon, items of jewelry that were in their dormitories. While this is very distressing, I must remind you that jewelry is not allowed, and all items of value should be handed in to the staff at the beginning of term. In that
way we can avoid these unpleasant incidents.”

She paused and looked around. Did I imagine that her gaze lingered on me for a moment? I felt my newly acquired locket burn against my skin under my sweater, but I stared back at her unblinkingly. I wasn’t going to give up this memento of Effie so easily. As for the Talisman, it lay in its bed of cold clay, and Miss Raglan would never find it.

“The staff is searching the dormitories at this moment for the missing articles, and any other valuables found there will be taken for safekeeping. Any girl who is still wearing an item of jewelry must hand it in now and nothing further will be said. However, any girl who continues to flout this rule will face the consequences.”

There was a pause; then a few girls fumbled to unfasten the chains that they had been wearing under their shirts. Miss Scratton walked down the rows with a basket and, one by one, the necklaces were dropped into it. She passed me by without a glance.

“I need hardly say that any girl who has any information about this incident must come to see me afterward,” Miss Raglan announced. “The missing items are a Tiffany diamond pendant and a small silver heart on a chain.”

“That was mine,” Harriet burst out. “My mother gave it to me. It’s mine and I want it back.”

A few girls sniggered at her red face and blinking eyes, but not many. If there was one thing the Wyldcliffe students understood it was the importance of possessions.

“And I am sure we will soon get it back,” said Miss Raglan smoothly. “We cannot tolerate thieves at Wyldcliffe.”

Miss Raglan dismissed us. Harriet burst into tears and dashed out. The students broke into little groups, gossiping over the latest drama.

“I felt sorry for Julia, but I don’t know why anyone would bother to steal that piece of junk from that Harriet kid,” India sneered as she linked arms with Celeste. “It’s not as if it were really valuable. My God, a tacky little heart on a cheap chain. Harriet probably got it out of a packet of cornflakes.”

She and Celeste laughed their cruel, braying laughs.

“You don’t know what’s valuable to other people,” Sarah retorted. “Not everything beautiful comes with a big price tag.”

“Yeah,” I added, sick of India and her snobby friends. “Harriet was fond of the necklace because her mom gave it to her. Isn’t that enough for you?”

India looked furious, but she twisted her mouth into
an insincere smile. “Like you’d recognize what’s beautiful or valuable, Johnson. I don’t suppose you’re hiding a precious jewel in your locker, are you? Have you got any family heirlooms tucked away with your spare socks?” Her words were mocking, but I felt flustered.

“Of course not…”

“Come on, Indy, don’t waste any more time on these losers,” said Celeste. “I want to make sure that Josh has groomed Sapphire properly.” She dragged India away.

“We’d better go too,” said Helen. “Let’s go and see if Harriet is okay.”

We walked down the corridor toward the marble steps. Sarah lowered her voice. “This can’t be a coincidence, all this stuff about handing in jewelry. I wonder if it was some kind of setup. I’m sure Raglan is onto something. She must be searching for the—” She broke off and glanced around cautiously.

“Well, at least it’s safe now,” I said. “And we’ve got work to do tonight.”

“What, down in the grotto? But we can’t; the coven was trampling all over it last night.”

“No, not there,” I whispered. “Meet me on the servants’ stairs at midnight.”

Midnight. It couldn’t come quickly enough. There was
something I had remembered, something that I desperately wanted to do.

We carefully shut the door to the corridor behind us and stood on the landing of the servants’ staircase.

I pointed the flashlight at the broken panel that I had noticed earlier. Sarah and Helen glanced at each other in surprise at my discovery, then helped me pull away the rest of the rotten wood. We worked as quietly as we could, and soon we had made a gaping black hole, big enough for us to climb through to the hidden steps to the attic. The stairs were narrow, and the air smelled of mold and damp. I hesitated for a moment, but Sarah gently butted me from behind, so I led the way, clutching my flashlight and ducking to avoid the trailing cobwebs.

We climbed the crumbling steps and emerged onto a wide area, like a wooden platform. At one end, a tower-like gable contained a grimy window that let in a smudge of moonlight. In the other direction, rather than one big attic, as I had expected, a tangle of deserted rooms seemed to sprawl under the very eaves of the house, spreading farther than we could tell. Dust lay thick as a carpet on the bare floor, and there was a profound silence. It almost
seemed wrong to break the spell of the place. Once, the Victorian maids—young girls like us—had slept up here after their work in the big house was done. They had worked and dreamed and had secrets, and now there was no trace of them left behind.

I tried the handle of the nearest door and opened it. A small room was crammed with old trunks and battered suitcases, perhaps abandoned over the years by long-gone Wyldcliffe students. There was no room for us to work there, so we crept farther on and tried another door. It was locked.

“I hope they’re not all locked like this,” I said impatiently, rattling the handle. Then I noticed something. There was no keyhole, and yet the door was firmly shut.

“Perhaps it’s stuck with age,” suggested Helen.

I tried to push the door open, leaning my shoulder heavily against it, but I couldn’t. “It’s bolted,” I said. “From the inside.”

“Let me see,” said Sarah. She laid her hands on the door and felt all over it, quiet and intent, as though she were listening to the wood that had once grown from the earth as a young tree. “There are two metal bolts on the inside. And something else—a peculiar vibration, something I can’t quite make out.”

“But how can it be locked from the inside?” I puzzled. “And why?”

“To keep everyone out, of course,” Helen said. “I’m going to get in there and have a look.”

“Are you sure, Helen?”

“Of course. And if it’s only full of old suitcases or mattresses you can laugh at me afterward.”

“Be careful.” I squeezed her hand quickly as she gathered her thoughts and powers. The next moment she had veiled herself in the familiar swirl of air and had vanished through the ether to the other side of the door.

Silence.

“Helen?” I called. There was still no answer. Sarah tapped more urgently on the door. Then we heard a muffled scraping of metal bolts and the door was flung open by Helen, looking triumphant.

We saw a tiny room, its walls sloping under the roof. It was draped with faded purple silk, like a tent, and on the floor was a rich Persian carpet. A carved wooden desk stood in the middle of the room, and the shelves behind it were crowded with thick glass bottles of what seemed to be dried herbs and plants. They had faded labels:
Mallow
,
Hyssop
, and
Rue
.

“But that’s Agnes’s handwriting.” I gasped.

“This must have been her secret study before she ran away to London,” said Sarah excitedly. “Where she came to do experiments and study the Mystic Way.”

“She must have sealed it with her powers,” added Helen, “so that no one could get in.”

“No one except us,” I said in wonder.

Under the shelves, great earthenware jars stood in a row. “There’s oil here,” said Sarah. “And water and sand, and all sorts of other things. And bundles of candles—all different colors—white and purple and green and red.”

“It’s perfect!”

“And look!” Helen had scuffed aside the moth-eaten carpet with her foot. Half-hidden by the rug, painted on the floor, there was an intricate silver circle, decorated with stars and moons and flowers and elaborate symbols. The whole room and everything in it seemed to be alive with endless possibilities.

“This is a sign,” I said, looking around in amazement. “Agnes wants us to come here to learn more, like she did. We can start straightaway. There’s something I’m longing to try.”

“What is it?” asked Helen.

“Don’t you remember how Agnes described in her journal that she conjured a flame when she was in London,
and it showed her an image of Sebastian far away in Wyldcliffe? Why shouldn’t I be able to channel my water powers to do something similar and see Sebastian now, wherever he is? It might give us a clue as to where he’s hiding, and what’s happening to him.”

“Okay, let’s try it,” Sarah replied. “What do you need?”

We looked through the array of equipment that was crammed into the little room and found a shallow bronze bowl. I filled it with water from the jars under the shelves and placed it in the middle of the circle. Helen lit some candles and began the chanting. I sat cross-legged by the bowl, lightly resting my fingertips on the surface of the water. Then I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift on the sound of Helen’s voice, letting my mind wander wherever it wanted to go. Memories started to rise up behind my eyes.

I was sitting with Sebastian by the edge of the lake, watching the reflection of the moon as it wavered on the surface of the water.
The water of life…the blood of our veins…
My mind drifted back further.
I know what I want to do…. I want to swim with you, girl from the sea….

We were side by side, swimming in the lake; then I was panicking, being pulled under. I was drowning…falling
into the deep black waters of memory.
Sebastian!
I called in my mind.
Where are you? Tell me where you are!

I opened my eyes with a start and found myself crouching over the bowl, still holding on to the rim. As I peered at my reflection in the water it changed, and the next moment it was Sebastian’s face that I saw on the glassy surface. He was lying down, so pale and still that for a moment I was terrified that he was dead.
No, that’s not right
, I thought.
He can’t die; he never died….

Sebastian opened his eyes. I saw him heave himself onto his elbow and pass his hand across his face. He had a litter of papers and letters next to him, which he suddenly swept to one side. Then he got unsteadily to his feet and began to walk away, as though every step hurt. He staggered on farther and the image began to fade. He was leaving me.

“Don’t go, don’t go!”

I hurled the bowl to the other side of the room and burst into tears. Sarah held me quietly, like a mother soothing a child, as I cried and cried and couldn’t stop.

Afterward, I was ashamed. Nothing would be achieved by tears. Action and strength and knowledge were needed, not weak emotions. At least I had seen Sebastian, I told myself. He hadn’t passed from my sight yet, though I still
didn’t know where he was hiding. I had to work faster and harder. I had to be more focused. There was no more time for weeping.

I would have to throw myself with even greater determination into our experiments. I promised myself that I would sneak up the hidden stairs every night to work in Agnes’s secret room, pushing myself further and further to unlock the mysteries that would set Sebastian free and bring him back to me at last.

T
he days raced by in a dream and the nights were a blur, as we worked so hard, missing sleep and constantly worrying about being caught. No one seemed to know about the staircase up to the attic, though, and we were safe for the moment. French, biology, math, music—they jostled in my mind side by side with our experiments in the Mystic Way. One night Helen made a pile of books rise into the air and float across the room. The next it was Sarah’s turn, as she held a lump of clay in her hands and it shaped itself into a delicate model of a tree, all by the power of her thought and will. We were special, I told myself feverishly; we would soon be able to do anything we wanted; we were gifted, chosen, special…. But as each day passed I became more and more tired. My limbs
ached and my head buzzed. I was kept going by love—and fear—for Sebastian.

It was hard to believe that Celeste and the others knew nothing of what we were going through. They could still care about who got an expensive package from an indulgent parent, and who had been given a solo in the school choir, and who had made the lacrosse team. The life of the school rolled on its usual course, but we were not quite part of it. I tried to avoid any contact with the other students. It was easier not to trust anyone, except Helen and Sarah. I didn’t want to give myself away by a careless comment or an overheard conversation. But I couldn’t totally avoid Harriet.

She was always popping up like a lost puppy, ready to run and fetch me a glass of water at lunch, or to pick up my pen if I dropped it, or to help me with my chores. There was something really pathetic about her doglike devotion, and I wished with all my heart that she would make some friends of her own.

Another Sunday came at last, after a week of grinding study. I woke up feeling sick and hot, but forced myself to get up as normal. As I sat through the long church service, I barely noticed what was being said. It seemed to me that the church was full of shadows, peopled by a long-dead
congregation mouthing gloomy prayers and hymns:
I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death….
Their ghostly shapes were more real to me than the bored Wyldcliffe students sitting in their neat rows.
The past, you can never get away from the past at Wyldcliffe….

I tried to shake myself out of my daze, telling myself I was just tired, but I couldn’t relax as we walked back to school, buffeted by the wind that raced over the hills. There seemed to be some kind of tension in the air, as though something were about to happen, as though someone were watching me.

“Evie, are you ready?”

I blinked and looked up in surprise. I was sitting on the end of my bed and Sarah was waiting by the door.

“Ready for what?”

“To go riding, of course.”

I looked down at my boots and jodhpurs with a puzzled frown. I couldn’t even remember getting changed after returning from church, I had been so lost in my thoughts.

“Riding?” I said vaguely. “Are we going riding today?”

“You’ve got your lesson, Evie,” she said anxiously. “You know—your riding lesson with Josh.”

Josh. Of course, the nice boy who was trying to teach me. I liked him, and yet I wished I didn’t have to spend an hour in his company. I wished I didn’t have to carry on with the riding lessons.
You can get hurt…. It’s dangerous…. You might fall….
A nameless feeling of dread was creeping over me, almost paralyzing me. I remembered what they had said about Agnes.
It was a riding accident…an accident…she died…that cursed place…

“Are you all right, Evie?” Sarah asked. “You’ve been so quiet all day, and you look so pale.”

“It’s nothing, honestly.” I made a huge effort to be positive. Nothing would happen. Josh was perfectly capable of seeing that I didn’t come to harm trotting around a practice field. And there was Sarah, dear Sarah, looking so concerned and trying to help. I didn’t want her to be worried. “Sorry, Sarah, I’m just so tired, that’s all. I’d better go and find Josh. See you after my lesson.”

A few minutes later, I led Bonny out to the paddock.

“Evie!” Someone was calling me. It was Harriet, wrapped in a heavy coat and scarf, her long, thin nose showing red in the wind. “Can I watch, Evie? Can I watch your lesson?”

My head had started to ache again. I didn’t want her there, watching me. Even the windows of the gray school
building seemed to glare down like hostile eyes. “No, Harriet, not today. You don’t want to stand around in this wind. Go inside.”

“I’m not cold, honestly. Please let me stay, Evie.”

It was too much of an effort to argue. Let her watch if she wanted; what did it matter? Perhaps if I ignored her she would lose interest and go away. I mounted and began to walk Bonny slowly around the ring that was marked out on the ground.

“That’s better,” said a cheerful, warm voice behind me. “You’re improving already.”

Josh. I made myself smile at him and he smiled back. There was a light in his eyes like a tiny flame….

He made me work hard, and by the time the class was over I was exhausted. All the new muscles I was discovering were screaming at me to stop. As I slithered from Bonny’s back, my knees seemed to give way. I staggered slightly, and in an instant Josh was by my side to support me, his arm around my waist.

“Evie, what’s the matter?”

“My legs felt kind of funny,” I said. He still held on to me, and I was aware of his body close to mine and the eager look in his eyes. Embarrassed, I wriggled out of his arms and tried to laugh. “I’m obviously not in good enough
shape for this riding business.”

“What’s really wrong, Evie?” Josh asked, with a look of puzzled concern. “I can’t help feeling that you’re…well, worried about something.”

I felt Harriet watching me from the other side of the field. She was still there, like a little old woman wrapped up in a bundle of ill-fitting clothes. Rooks were settling in the ancient trees of the grounds, their cries shrill and urgent in the dusk. The short winter day was already dying. For a fleeting second I wished I could talk to Josh. He seemed so…well,
ordinary,
so far away from the world I now inhabited. But there was no sense in that. I couldn’t go around unburdening myself on him just because he was warm and kind. I didn’t need a crutch to lean on. I could cope.

“It’s such a gloomy afternoon, that’s all,” I said. “And listen to the wind howling! It’s been giving me the creeps all day.”

Josh looked at me searchingly. “I’ll take care of Bonny for you,” he said, taking her bridle from me. “Go and get some rest. And Evie…” He began to say something, then seemed to change his mind, busying himself with the pony. “I hope you feel better. Same time next week?”

“Yeah.”

I walked slowly back to the stables. The wind was tearing around the shadowy buildings of the Abbey. It seemed to push me here and there as though I were no heavier than a dead leaf, with no will left of my own. I drifted away from the stable yard and over to the terrace. I hovered there for a moment, looking across the wintry lawns that led down to the lake.

The lake. Deep, deep water. Black depths of water. So cool, so heavy, so still and inviting. It was calling me…. I had to get closer. I began to stumble across the lawns, but something was wrong. Everything was slowing down, fading into black…. I was ice-cold….

Evie…Evie…where are you?

It was Sebastian, I was sure of it, calling me from the ruins.

He was there.

He was looking for me.

He had come back at last.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. Energy blazed through me and I ran heedlessly, slipping on the icy paths, calling under my breath, “I’m here; I’m coming; wait for me, Sebastian….” I dashed under the black arches of the ruined chapel, then came skidding to a halt. Six women, cloaked and hooded, were grouped by the mound
where the altar had once stood. The next moment I was surrounded and their hands stretched out graspingly. One of them spoke in a muffled, eerie voice: “Ah, so good of you to answer our call—”

“No!” A great cry tore the air and a wall of light sprang up between me and the women like a shield. As I fell to the ground, everything whirled around me and I saw them turn and retreat, their black cloaks flapping in the wind. Then the light seemed to change and the heavy scent of candles filled my mind like drowsy incense. Soft voices were chanting, as sad and profound as the song of the sea. I was still in the chapel, but the roof was no longer the inky sky. Carved and gilded beams soared over me, and the stained-glass window behind the altar glowed with a hundred jeweled colors. Rows of women in white habits, holy sisters, were singing in the candlelight, their faces lifted in solemn ecstasy. One of them turned her face to me, and I knew her eyes….

The candles blew out. The music stopped abruptly. The chapel was a ruined, meaningless shell once more, with the stars gleaming in the sky above my head. The menacing women in their dark cloaks had gone, and so had the ranks of chanting nuns. I had the sense that a long time had passed.

“Evie…Evie…”

The voice came again, but it wasn’t Sebastian. A moment later Sarah ran up to me, out of breath and looking worried. “Evie, are you all right?” she said. “Josh said you finished your lesson hours ago. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

I quickly told her everything that I had seen.

“So the Dark Sisters were here?” she said, horrified.

“And some other women, from long ago, but I thought I knew one of them. And, oh, Sarah, I’m sure Sebastian was here too! Do you…Can you sense anything?”

“I don’t know—the atmosphere is confused. There’s the scent of danger…and fear…and hope.”

“He was here, I swear. I heard his voice!”

“That could have been a trap by the coven, some kind of setup to lure you down here on your own,” Sarah said doubtfully. “Evie, I really don’t think you should go out by yourself after sunset, not even on the grounds like this. And I think we should get back inside. You’ve been out here for hours; you missed dinner. You look so pale.”

I glanced around one last time at the broken pillars and tumbled walls of the ancient church, reluctant to leave somehow. Had I really been here for so long? It had seemed like only a few moments, and yet perhaps I had wandered
into some other time and lingered there without knowing it. I couldn’t shake the faces of the women singing in the chapel from my mind. Had they really been the holy nuns from the ancient days? Where had the other hooded women vanished to? And was it Sebastian’s voice I had heard calling me, or had it all been some cruel trick?

“Evie, come on. It’s freezing out here. You’re shaking.” Sarah tugged at my arm and I followed her back to the school, my mind racing. We went in through a side door and made our way to the marble staircase in the entrance hall. A few students were lingering there by the fire that was burning as usual in the stone hearth. My teeth were chattering and I felt sick.

“Stand here for a while and get warm,” Sarah said anxiously, leading me to a place in front of the fire. The flames danced and fought, red and purple and gold. As I stretched out my hands to them, a scream shattered the evening gloom. The heavy front door swung open and a plump twelve-year-old with a rosy face dashed into the hall. She was crying uncontrollably.

“I saw him, I saw him,” she moaned, weeping and clinging to the girls nearest to her. Miss Scratton glided out of the shadows.

“What’s going on? Constance, whom did you see?”

But the girl could only cry and hide her face in her hands.

Miss Scratton made her look up and said, “Now tell me what happened. It’s all right. I am here. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“It was h-horrible,” the red-faced girl stammered, hic-cupping and gasping for breath. “I was up by the gates with my camera, because Emma Duncan told me that she’d seen a b-barn owl flying in the lane a few nights ago—you know, the ones with the white faces that come out at sunset—and I wanted to try to get a photo and…and—” She broke off, crying again.

“Go on,” said Miss Scratton. “What happened next?”

“I heard this noise, like a groan, like someone in pain. It was coming from the other side of the gates, so I looked and I saw…I saw something white and I thought perhaps it was the owl, but it wasn’t. It was this man in a long black coat and his face was all white and scary and I think he was dying.” She burst into incoherent sobs.

“It was very silly to wander about at the far side of the grounds in the dark, Constance; no wonder you gave yourself a fright. It was probably one of the farm workers walking home. You must have scared him to death too. Now come with me,” Miss Scratton said briskly. “We’ll
get you some hot cocoa and forget all about it.” She swept Constance and the other girls out of the hall, but as she did so she glanced over to where I was standing, and her sharp black eyes seemed to hold a message for me.

Sebastian. It must have been Sebastian. My heart surged. He had been out there, looking for me. If only I had known, if only he had waited by the lake—then the girl’s words hit me.
I think he was dying.
In a flash I saw Sebastian’s chalk-white face, his bloodshot eyes; I heard his labored breath. But he wasn’t dying; he couldn’t die….

I knew what it meant, though. Sebastian must be reaching the last stages of fading. There was only a fine veil hanging between him and his dreadful fate. He would soon leave this earth for his everlasting imprisonment in the Shadows. Time was running out. Sebastian was getting weaker and weaker; he could hardly breathe. I could hardly breathe…. I was so weak…everything was fading away.

The checkerboard tiles swam in front of my eyes, my legs trembled, and I fell into utter blackness, as dark and close as a tomb.