Betrayal (9 page)

FROM THE PRIVATE PAPERS OF
S
EBASTIAN
J
AMES
F
AIRFAX

I am back here, in my living tomb.

My strength fades—but I have to tell you—

I did try to find you; believe me, my darling love—you must believe me.

I tried to see you, Evie—I tried so hard.

My vision of you had made me stronger. I thought I would be able to reach you. I believed that if I could only reach you, I would be healed. And so I strained my will to make my journey.

For one brief hour I felt the wind upon my face again; I watched the sun sink into the winter sky, and the first stars flicker overhead. I breathed the damp, cool air of
the lake where once we swam together, our bodies reaching out for each other. Under the arches of the old ruins, I waited for you as the day died and the night deepened. I closed my eyes and sank to the ground, exhausted by my journey, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, thinking only of you.

Evie, I called to you and you came! But everything turned to ashes and I saw that I had led you into a trap. Some of my former servants were waiting for you, ready to gloat over their innocent prey. I called to warn you and used the dregs of my powers to shield you, and they scattered like ants stirred by a stick.

I saw you. I was there, I tried—I tried—

Then something happened that I had not expected: a swell of holy song, glowing colors and lights, and a vision of high, rare power. It all seemed to come from you, I could have sworn, and yet you were somehow apart, and beyond any help I could give you. I could not stay in that bright company—I had to flee.

Someone saw me, a young girl. She shrank from me, as though I were a monster. And so, like a monster, I have retreated into my darkness.

Forgive me, Evie. I tried to find you and I failed. Oh, God, will I never stop failing?

It is because of me that Agnes died. It is because of me that the first women of the coven left their simple homes to pursue my corrupt ambitions. It is because of me that they are Dark Sisters. It is because of me that you are in danger. And now, when there is only a fine veil hanging between me and my fate, is it too late for me to redeem myself? Is there not one single act of good that I could be remembered by when I am gone? Will I never be healed?

Perhaps it is too late.

Perhaps that is my truth now.

I am so sorry, Evie. Forgive me. I am sorry for everything—except for loving you.

I
’m sorry,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry.” I lifted my head groggily and opened my eyes. The face of the school nurse swam into focus. Sarah was hovering next to her anxiously.

“Are you okay, Evie?” Sarah asked. “What happened?”

“My head…I must have fainted. Stupid of me.”

“You’re prone to this, aren’t you?” the nurse asked briskly. “This is what comes of riding in the freezing cold and getting exhausted and then baking yourself next to the fire.” She sounded severe, but she fussed over me kindly. Brushing aside her suggestion that I should spend the night in the infirmary, I pleaded with her to ignore what had happened. “I’m not ill,” I swore. “It was like you
said: The fire was so hot, and it was really stuffy after being outside. It’s nothing serious.”

Eventually she took me up to my dorm, making me promise to let her know if I got dizzy again. Sarah reluctantly left me at the door of the dormitory and went to look for Helen to tell her what had happened, while the nurse made sure I was tucked up in bed. As soon as she had gone, Celeste, who was lounging on the window seat painting her toenails, sneered, “Quite the little heroine with these fainting fits, aren’t you, Johnson?”

“It’s just a sad attempt to make herself interesting,” added India.

“Absolutely pathetic.”

It wasn’t worth rising to the bait and arguing with them. I drew the drapes around my bed, though I was sure I wouldn’t be able to rest. But the nurse had been right when she had said I was exhausted, as a few moments later I felt my eyes droop and I fell into an uneasy sleep.

I didn’t dream.

The next thing I knew was that I could hear someone pacing softly across the floor of the dorm. I sat upright and listened. Perhaps it was Helen. Cautiously, I pushed aside the drape and peered into the dimly lit room.

I had to force myself not to cry out. It had happened
again. I was seeing into a different Wyldcliffe, not the distant time of the old nunnery, but the rich, splendid heyday of the nineteenth century, when the Abbey had been Agnes’s beloved home. I was in the same room with the arched windows and the cushioned seat below them. But the walls were no longer bare and white, and I could no longer see the beds of my dorm mates. Through a kind of mist, I could see richly colored wallpaper and carpets, velvet curtains and hangings, a heaped silken bed, carved furniture, and glowing candlelight. It was Agnes’s bedroom, and she was there in front of me, pacing up and down.

Agnes seemed to turn and see me, though I couldn’t be sure. Then she threw a shawl across her shoulders, opened the door, and went out of the room. Without stopping to think I got out of bed. My feet felt the usual scuffed linoleum on the floor, though my eyes saw the richly woven carpet. I was somehow hovering between two worlds. I followed Agnes into the corridor and she led me to the top of the marble stairs. The landing was decorated with a profusion of pictures and mirrors and exotic ferns in ornate pots, but the white marble stairs were exactly the same as I had known them.

Slowly, as though hypnotized, I followed Agnes down
the stairs, unable to speak. But with each step I took, her outline became fainter, and soon I could no longer see her.

“Wait, Agnes, wait!” My voice came back to me, but the hangings and pictures vanished, and I was left with only the bare white steps, leading me down and down and down….

Lying across the bottom step, like a broken doll, was a young girl. It wasn’t Agnes. I was firmly back in my own time, and the girl lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs was Harriet Templeton.

I was allowed to go and see her in the infirmary a couple of days later.

“She’s very lucky to have gotten nothing worse than a broken wrist and a concussion after that dreadful fall,” the nurse scolded. “Why didn’t you tell us you were prone to sleepwalking, Harriet?”

“I…um…I didn’t think it was important,” she muttered.

“With all these stairs and twists and turns in this old building? You need to be much more careful. Anyway,” she went on, softening slightly, “here’s your friend to keep you company for a bit, so don’t look so miserable. It’s a good thing that Evie heard you in the night and came to
fetch me. And there was Evie dropping down in a dead faint herself the other day. What a pair you are!”

“I’m absolutely fine now, I promise,” I said.

“But you can only stay ten minutes at the most. We don’t want Harriet to get too tired.” The nurse bustled out, leaving us alone.

“So how is your wrist, Harriet?”

“It’s nothing. It’s my head that hurts.”

We looked at each other rather awkwardly. I couldn’t help feeling guilty that I hadn’t made Harriet go to the nurse when I first found out about her sleepwalking, and yet somehow I was angry with her. In a weird way I felt we were now tied together by this secret. But I didn’t want to get closer to Harriet. I didn’t want the school staff thinking that we were special friends.

“Thanks so much for finding me and getting the nurse when I…um…fell down,” Harriet said, blushing with embarrassment.

“Yeah, well, you should have told them before about the sleepwalking—gotten a dorm on the ground floor or something,” I grumbled. “You could have been killed!”

“I know.” She played restlessly with the fringes on the edge of the blankets, frowning to herself. Then she suddenly leaned over and grabbed my arm, her eyes wide
and afraid. “Evie, did you see her?”

“What do you mean?”

“That woman, you know, that night on the stairs?”

I stared at her in disbelief, not knowing what to say. Was she talking about Agnes? Could she possibly have seen her too?

“Um…what kind of woman?”

Harriet frowned again. “I don’t know; I can’t really remember. All I can remember is her voice, leading me on somehow…and now I can’t get rid of it.”

“Get rid of what?”

“Her voice in my head.” She began to cry quietly, like an overtired child. “Sometimes I think I’d like to fall asleep in the snow and never wake up.”

“I think I’d better go, Harriet,” I said, feeling alarmed by her fragile state of mind. “You need to get some rest.” I went to fetch the nurse and then slipped away, trying to work things out. Perhaps Harriet had somehow tuned in to Agnes’s presence on the stairs and it had given her a kind of psychic shock, which had made her slip and fall. Or perhaps she really was related to Agnes and now Agnes was trying to reach her, just as she had reached out to me? For some reason I didn’t like the idea of that. My relationship with Agnes was special; I didn’t want anyone
else butting into it. But that was so petty—how could I be jealous of poor Harriet?

I walked slowly back to my dorm. Not everything that happened at Wyldcliffe had some mysterious meaning, I reminded myself. It was probably all very simple. Harriet had been sleepwalking, she had fallen and banged her head, and now she was confused and upset. But Harriet’s problems were not my problems. Her world was not my world. And in my world I had to concentrate on the job I had to do, not get sidetracked by every drama that boarding school threw up. I began to run down the corridor. I had to find Helen and Sarah and get back to work.

L
ook!” I waved my hand and filled the attic with a thick covering of snow. The dusty shelves glittered with sparkling icicles. Sarah replaced the snow with a carpet of primroses. Then Helen made a breeze rustle through the icicles and made them chime like silver bells. We laughed and returned the room to its original state, then looked at one another, suddenly sobering up.

“I wish it could all be for fun like that.” Sarah sighed.

“I know, but we’re ready now for more than fun. Don’t you feel that?” I said. “Aren’t we ready to try the Talisman again, before it’s too late?”

“I think we are,” replied Helen slowly. “What about you, Sarah?”

Sarah hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, we’re ready.”

Sunday, our only day of freedom, arrived again at last. I sent a message to Josh that I had a cold and didn’t feel up to my riding lesson, then met Sarah at the school gates with the ponies so that we could set off to Uppercliffe.

“Won’t Josh wonder how you’re well enough to ride out, but not well enough for his class?”

“He probably won’t notice that we’ve gone out,” I said. “I’m sure he couldn’t care less what I do.” But it wasn’t true. I knew that his brown eyes followed me whenever I happened to be down in the stables, and I knew that I was avoiding him for that very reason. “Anyway, Sarah, I can’t afford to spend time messing around having a riding lesson when we’ve got so much to do today. Helen will be at Uppercliffe by now. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Sarah looked kind of troubled, but I turned away and urged Bonny on as fast as I dared. Perhaps my love for Sebastian was making me selfish, brushing Josh and Harriet and everything else to one side as unimportant. I didn’t want that to happen; I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I couldn’t let down Sebastian. He had to come first. I would sort everything else out later, I promised myself, if only I could find Sebastian.

Helen was already waiting for us when we reached Uppercliffe. She had dug up the Talisman and was examining it closely. I couldn’t help wondering whether, if the Talisman had been left to Helen, she would have already discovered how to use it. Again I had a faint, troubling feeling of jealousy as I took it from her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. “Shall we start?”

There’s no need to dwell on the failure of our efforts. The frustration, the rising anger, the terrible powerlessness. It is enough to say that nothing worked. The Talisman hung proud and cold and useless on its silver chain.

“What are we going to do?” I stormed, tempted to fling it from me in rage. I was furiously angry, but not with the Talisman or Agnes or the others. I was angry with myself. Why couldn’t I awaken Agnes’s powers? What was wrong with me? Everything I had tried and learned seemed feeble and less than nothing. But I had worked so hard.
Follow my path….
I had tried, hadn’t I? And then it dawned on me. The answer was stunningly, glaringly obvious. I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

“We’ve been doing it all wrong,” I said blankly.

“What do you mean, Evie?” asked Sarah.

“We’re calling to the Talisman through our own
powers. But Agnes’s element was fire, not water or earth or air. If we want to unlock Agnes’s power in the Talisman, we have to do it through her element, not our own.” I looked up at the others, convinced that I was right. “We need to channel the power of fire. She said I had to follow her path—I thought she just meant the Mystic Way, but she must have been talking about her own special powers. The fire is the only way to the Talisman.”

“But can you do anything with fire?” asked Sarah quickly.

“I don’t know; I’ve never tried.”

“Then try now,” said Helen.

Sarah found some scraps of rotten wood and made a campfire in the ruins of the old house. The wood spat and smoked, but a thin orange flame began to flicker and glow. I felt keyed up with excitement. This time I really would do it; everything would make sense at last. Agnes would help me this time; I was sure of it.

“See if you can control the flame with the power of your thought,” Helen said. “That’s one of the things Agnes learned to do first.”

“All right. I’ll try.”

We formed a circle and held hands and the chanting began. As I let my mind drift with the lulling
incantations, the voices of the distant sea and the underground streams and the rain clouds high over the hills began to call to me, but I had to try to block them out.

Fire. That was what I needed now. I had to think of warmth and color and life. I clasped the Talisman in my hands and focused on the dancing flames that licked around the little shards of wood. Fire. Heat. Life.
The fire of our desires…
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate.

In my mind I saw the flames flare up like blazing rockets. There was a flash of heat and I seemed to see a girl with auburn hair standing in a shabby room. It was Agnes. She was surrounded by dancing, fiery lights. She flicked her wrist to control them and they made brilliant shapes that swooped around her, stars and dragonflies and birds of paradise. She gazed into my eyes and held her hands out to me.
You can do it, Evie.
My face and hands grew hot; I was panting for breath; I opened my eyes and reached toward the fire that glowed on the earthen floor of the cottage. With all the force of my mind I willed the flames to change, commanding them to obey me.

Nothing happened.

“I—I can’t do it.” I stepped back, feeling weak and shaky. “I can’t. Sorry.”

Sarah and Helen glanced at each other. There was an awkward silence.

“Perhaps you could learn to do it, eventually,” Helen said slowly. “But how long would that take? And it’s not just about controlling a simple flame. Agnes’s powers were much deeper than that.”

“I know,” I groaned. “I know, I know, I know.” I stumbled outside, desperate for some fresh air. Leaning against the rough walls of the cottage, I let the wind blow through my hair, as though it could also blow away the weight of my despair. I looked across the valley to where the village lay tucked in the folds of land. I could see the towers of the Abbey behind a screen of leafless trees. Down there, girls were enjoying the Sunday relaxation that even Wyldcliffe allowed. They were writing letters home, or reading, or chatting, or having music lessons, or learning to ride…. For one second I saw myself walking away from the Talisman and everything it represented. I could hide it again up here and no one would ever know it had existed. Wouldn’t Helen and Sarah say I had tried hard enough to help Sebastian? Wouldn’t they understand if I gave up now? For those fleeting moments, I saw another Evie, walking hand in hand with a boy with straw-colored hair and quiet brown eyes, laughing in the sunshine….

No.

I wrenched my thoughts away. Sebastian had chosen to dwell in the shadows, but I would follow him there and bring him back to the light, however impossible it seemed. I would not give up. I would not grow weary.

I would not betray him.