You are our dark heart
Black reflection
Of what we fear we are
Germany–Poland border
A trickle of sweat ran down Sarah’s back as the soldier beckoned her out of the car. Why had he singled her out, out of all the members of their group? Why now? They had travelled through half of Europe, from Islay all the way to the Polish border, without ever being stopped. They had been lucky. Their passports were kosher, of course, except for Nicholas’, who had a completely forged identity – but he had reassured them it was watertight. There had been no time to create new identities, new passports after leaving Islay, and they had got from place to place by sheer luck. But finally, it seemed their luck had given in.
The soldier, a young blond man with enormous hands and suspicious eyes, said something in Polish. It didn’t sound friendly. Sarah couldn’t speak Polish, but the meaning of his gestures was clear enough. She obeyed and stepped out of the car, joining Sean under a fine, frozen drizzle that chilled her to the bone. Even though she had on a heavy black jacket and fur-lined boots, she was still freezing in the harsh Polish winter. They all were, after days and nights outside without daring to light a fire.
Nicholas’ ravens – the Elementals he had under his control – were circling above them, black wings against the white sky, cawing. They were guiding Sarah and her friends to the Gate of the Shadow World. Their cawing said that this unscheduled stop was not welcome.
Sarah’s breath congealed in little white clouds as she stood, waiting for the soldier to speak. The soldier fixed his eyes on Sarah. He was studying her face, she realised. As though he’d seen her somewhere before, like the memory was about to click in his mind – or was she being paranoid? Her stomach churned. Her biggest fear throughout the journey had been that someone, somewhere – the Midnight housekeeper on Islay, or the family and friends Sarah had left behind in Edinburgh – would decide to issue a missing person alarm over her disappearance. Her face would be passed on to the police and plastered inside petrol stations and rest stops all over the world. When she had phoned her aunt from Islay, she hadn’t thought of asking her not to do that. She’d been too astonished to find out her aunt was alive, after the wildcat attack that had left her for dead. Sarah believed Aunt Juliet had understood that involving the police wouldn’t help – the opposite, in fact – but she couldn’t be sure. Contacting her again would have been too dangerous.
“Is there a problem?” Sean asked the soldier, sounding calm and unconcerned. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. His self-control never ceased to amaze her. The more danger they were in, the more he seemed to keep his composure.
“No problem,” the man replied in heavily accented English. His eyes were still narrowed, still studying Sarah’s face. “I go inside for a moment,” he said, shifting his rifle towards the concrete cabin at the side of the road. “Lont!” He beckoned to a young man with black eyes and a thin, barely there moustache.
As Lont saw Sarah, something passed over his face – a flicker of recognition – but he didn’t say anything. The two soldiers had a brief conversation in Polish. Sarah gathered that Lont was supposed to keep an eye on them while the blond soldier went inside the station. Her heart was pounding against her ribs. What was he going to do, once inside? Was he going to call someone? Check her face against a database of missing person’s alerts? Her mind was racing. She met Sean’s eyes and something unspoken flew between them.
Sean looked over at Niall, who was just behind them, leaning against Nicholas’ car door, waiting. Both nodded imperceptibly. The message was clear. They had to run. Sarah gazed around her. There were soldiers everywhere, with rifles and a look on their faces that said they were not afraid to use them. It was like some war film, she thought, exasperated. Her hands were already flooding with Blackwater – the power to melt and dissolve skin and bone – when Lont took a step closer. In the blink of an eye, Sean’s hand was on his sgian-dubh.
“Sarah Midnight. It is you,” whispered Lont. Sarah gaped at him. How did he know her name? He hadn’t seen her passport; the blond soldier had taken it inside with him, and as they spoke he had not picked up on her name. For a moment, she was too shocked to speak. Sean was holding his sgian-dubh low against his stomach so that nobody would see. He had already begun tracing his runes.
Lont’s gaze fell on the blade, and he put a hand up. “No use the runes, Midnight Gamekeeper,” he whispered in broken English. “Listen to me. I am Gamekeeper too. You go. Now.”
It took a split second to take in the soldier’s words, but then Sean nodded, and made a gesture towards Niall to tell him to get back into the car. Lont released the barrier, shouting something in Polish towards the other soldiers, who were standing in little clusters along the border. And then, to Sarah: “Go!”
She didn’t have to be told twice. Praying that the blond soldier in the station was not aware of Lont’s betrayal – yet – they climbed back into their cars. As Sean drove away as fast as he could, but not too fast – in case the other soldiers thought they had something to hide – Sarah met Lont’s eye for a moment. Thank you, she mouthed.
Sean calmly raised his hand in greeting towards the soldiers and nodded briefly. Sarah could not believe how calm he was. She wanted to look as composed as Sean, but she couldn’t help turning back and gazing into the mirrors, imagining army vehicles or police cars following them, a car chase like in an action movie. As if the demons weren’t enough to deal with. She switched on the radio and started messing with the stations. “Do you understand Polish at all? In case we’re in the news.”
“Not a clue, sorry. The only word I could make out was your name. I hope the Gamekeeper is okay,” Sean replied. “How on earth did he know?”
“I have no idea. I suppose there must still be a few people left in the network, looking out for the Secret Families.” Sarah took a deep breath. Her mouth was dry. “We’ll never know, I suppose. Not until all this is over and we can try to find out how many of us are left.”
Sarah’s words hung between them. They both had finished the sentence in their minds: if we’re still alive. They were quiet for a while, the drizzle turning into tiny snowflakes again, falling white and silent on the road and on the fields around them. And then Sean braided his fingers with Sarah’s and squeezed her hand for a moment, a moment that ended too fast. He returned his hand to the wheel, leaving Sarah with a melted heart and a racing mind.
It was the first time he’d touched her since they’d left Islay. The feeling of his skin on hers brought on a sea of emotions she didn’t know how to handle. She swallowed, wrapped her arms around herself, and sank deeper into her seat.
I love you, she said in her mind over and over again. The same words she’d whispered in his ear on the beach back on Islay, with only the sea and the wind to hear.
Sean. Her Sean.
Sarah caught a glimpse of his profile as they were driving on. His handsome features were tense, tight, but underneath the fear and tension, Sarah could truly see him, his essence – eyes clear as a summer morning and the golden skin of someone who’d grown up in a sunny place, still not faded after months in Scotland and now through the European winter. An image formed in her mind: she and Sean in each other’s arms, alone, in the darkness. But immediately, she chased it away. What was the point, if Sean was convinced they couldn’t be together?
Her feelings for him had been a galaxy of mixed emotions, from diffidence when he first stormed into her life pretending to be Harry Midnight, to affection tinged with something forbidden – she had been told they were cousins – to the first flickers of love. And then anger when she discovered his lie. Forgiveness had come eventually, and a need for each other that they could not deny.
And then, the terrible revelation: they could never be together. Another consequence of her curse, because that’s what Sarah had decided being a Secret heir was: a curse. It all came down to a lottery of blood, and she had lost. Big time.
Children of a Lay man – a non-Secret – and a Secret woman carry no powers, and Sean, loyal to the oath he’d made to the Secret Families, could not allow the Midnight powers to be lost. Sean was a Gamekeeper, and he had sworn to serve the Secret Families with all he had. His oath was his whole life. He would never break it.
If she survived all this, Sarah knew she’d have to marry another Secret heir and carry children with pure Secret blood, keeping the net of protection alive around the world. Made to breed like a thoroughbred horse, not like a woman with a heart and soul.
Once again, as they drove along snowy fields under a white sky, Sarah contemplated the full extent of the destruction her Midnight blood brought her and those around her. She was locked in a life of violence, she was denied the love of her life, and what was worse – infinitely worse – she’d hurt those dearest to her. She thought of her aunt Juliet, miraculously alive after a terrible attack. She’d believed her dead for weeks, until she heard her voice in a quick, heart-rending phone call she’d made from Islay before leaving for her final quest. She remembered her heart stopping as she heard her aunt’s voice, like an echo from the afterlife.
The images of her loving aunt being torn apart by a demon tormented her every day, every night. The Midnights brought devastation on everything they came in contact with, on everything they loved. Was Aunt Juliet really safe? And Bryony, her best friend? Had the demons got them, since the last time they spoke? She had no way of knowing. She didn’t dare call them again, in case it would bring danger on them, and herself and her friends.
“Are you okay?” Sean asked her, interrupting her thoughts. Sarah couldn’t stop her lips curling slightly. Are you okay was his favourite question, and had they been in different circumstances, it would have been followed by the offer of coffee. For such a fearless warrior, strong, often ruthless, Sean had a soft, domestic side to him that always made her smile.
Sean smiled back. “I know, I know. I ask you all the time.”
“You haven’t asked me in a while, actually,” she said.
“I still kept an eye on you. Always.”
“I know.”
There was a moment of silence, and Sarah hoped he’d take her hand again, but he didn’t. She wondered when, if ever, she’d feel his skin against hers again. She watched the snowflakes land on the car window, tiny and perfect and intricate like lace, and the wintery landscape around her mirrored the bleakness in her heart.