Some destroy
And some heal
Sean and Sarah clung on to each other in silence. Sarah was in a haze. She couldn’t be joyful or happy or even relieved yet. She was in disbelief. The feeling of Sean’s skin against hers, his breath, his body, strong and solid, after so much fear, so much pain. Was it real? Was it really happening?
She folded herself into him. There wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t hurting; she needed a moment of respite. She needed a moment with nothing in her eyes and ears and soul, nothing that wasn’t Sean. She held him tight and felt the wetness on his cheeks. Her own eyes were dry, but Sean was crying, coming loose and undone with her in his arms. Suddenly he moaned softly. Alarmed, Sarah slipped a hand onto his side and looked at her fingers. They were red with blood.
“Sean . . .”
“It looks worse than it is,” he said, but Sarah didn’t believe him. She took off her fleece and made a makeshift bandage, tying it as tight as she could around his waist, and then she helped him up.
Elodie was standing a few yards from them, looking towards the place where the abyss had been. The earth was closed again now, the three mossy boulders standing immobile as before. The only signs of what had happened were the scorched trees and the freshly turned earth, the grass mangled and muddy. Sarah sustained Sean as they limped towards Elodie. They both wrapped her in their arms and held her tight, and she, listless, dazed with shock, her face bruised and empty, let them.
“We were one. And now he’s gone,” she whispered, and Sarah didn’t know if she was talking about Nicholas or about her primal, deepest loss, the one that had triggered the change in her, the darkness spreading inside her soul – the loss of her husband, Harry Midnight. “It was Martyna who went with him,” she explained. “She came with us. I thought I’d felt her presence but I wasn’t sure. She was in Nicholas’ castle, trapped there . . . We freed her spirit and she’s gone with him.”
“You are here with us. You won’t be trapped in darkness with Nicholas,” said Sarah uncertainly. Did she have to comfort Elodie for not having followed Nicholas into the shadows? Was that what Elodie had actually wanted?
“We were one,” Elodie said again.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Sarah said, holding Elodie tight.
She owed Elodie her life. She couldn’t believe what the French girl had had to shoulder all alone for all that time, knowing about Nicholas’ plan and not being able to say anything. And still, Elodie had gone behind their backs, keeping them in the dark about what the King of Shadows had in store for Sarah. She had taken it upon herself to decide the course of action.
For a moment, Sarah wondered what she would have done had she known about the King of Shadows’ design for her. Would she have accepted being his vessel so that Nicholas could kill her while the King of all Surari possessed her? Would she have risked such a terrible fate, to have her body belong to him forever?
With a shiver, she remembered how she’d felt when the King of Shadows had possessed her – the horror, the despair. The power. The sense of being omnipotent, omniscient, the whole of the Shadow World flowing through her veins, beating in her heart. For a moment, she had wanted it.
And that was the most horrifying thought of all: that without Lucrezia’s voice calling her back, reminding her of who she was, she might have lost herself forever. She might have really killed Sean and her friends and lived eternal days as the King of Shadows.
Sarah held Elodie tighter. Whatever darkness was inside Elodie, Sarah wasn’t immune to it either. She was a Midnight, after all. How could she judge anyone when her family had been guilty of so much evil?
“I knew Nicholas was going to kill you, Sarah,” Elodie whispered in her ear. “I helped him. It was the only way,” she confessed.
“I know. I know. But you saved me, too.”
“I was almost sure it wasn’t going to work. It’s so hard to gauge how much poison to use to knock somebody out but not kill them. I just can’t believe you are alive.”
“I can’t believe I’m alive either,” Sarah said truthfully. One second more of Elodie keeping her lips on Sarah’s, a little more poison seeping into her system, and she might never have woken up. She released Elodie, and their eyes met. Sarah tried to find the words to express that mixture of emotions she felt, but she couldn’t.
Suddenly, Elodie remembered the stone. She picked the opal up from where Nicholas had tossed it, right in front of her. It felt hot, hotter than it would be just from her body heat. A streak of scarlet played inside it, like blood in milk. “This stone contains a bit of your soul,” Elodie explained. “Nicholas took it. He stole it away from you and gave it to me right before he . . .” She couldn’t finish her thought.
Sarah’s eyes widened. Nicholas’ hold on her had been stronger than she thought. A shiver travelled down her spine. “How . . . how did he do it?”
“I don’t know how or when he did it, but I had a vision on the plane, coming to Scotland all those months ago. I saw someone using this stone to kill you. I didn’t know who – I didn’t see their face. I know now.” Her eyes met Sean’s, and there was a prayer inside them, the hope for forgiveness.
Sean took Elodie by the shoulders and locked his eyes on hers, those black eyes that didn’t belong to her, somehow. Would they turn back to their natural colour now that Nicholas was gone, Sean wondered. Would she still feel his thoughts now that he was the King of Shadows himself? Would their souls still be linked? He tried to look beyond those obsidian eyes and speak to his friend, the girl he’d known forever, the girl he’d shared so much with. The voice that had lulled him to sleep back at Gorse Cottage after all those weeks of insomnia . . .
“Elodie, it’s over. We made it. We stopped the King of Shadows. You are not ill any more. You don’t have the Azasti any more. You are going to live. It’s all ahead of you now.”
“Sean,” she whispered in reply, like a question, or a prayer.
“I’m here. We’re here. You’re not alone. Do you hear me?”
Elodie covered her face with her hands, and Sean took her by the shoulders again. It was as if she kept drifting away from them into despair, and Sean and Sarah were trying to hold her back, to not let her go.
“It was supposed to be me, the one who went with him. We were one . . .”
Sean studied her face. He saw the devastation, but this time, mixed with the loss and despair, there was a light of relief. The part of her that wanted to live, however small, was rejoicing. And another part of her, the part that was one with Nicholas, was grieving. But there was something that Sean needed to know, something that didn’t make sense to him. “The whole Martyna thing . . . I don’t understand. How did you know about her? Did you read it in his thoughts?”
Elodie shook her head. “I . . . I knew her spirit. I felt it in the castle. She possessed me.”
Sean stared at his friend, shocked. How many secrets had Elodie kept from them?
Elodie continued, “He didn’t know her spirit lived. It was trapped in there, and then I freed her by mistake. She followed us. She wanted to protect Nicholas. She loved him still.”
Sarah winced. How could anyone love Nicholas, and all the darkness inside him?
But then, somehow, it was he who’d saved them all.
“Can you still feel Nicholas?” Sarah asked. She wanted to know he was gone, gone for good.
“I . . .” Elodie began.
“Sean! Sarah!” A young voice interrupted Elodie. It was Micol, standing at the edge of the clearing, silhouetted against the pine trees.
“Oh my God. Micol is alive!” Sarah whispered. The relief was immense, all encompassing. A soft sob escaped Sarah’s lips as Micol ran to them, and they fell into each other’s arms. Sarah held on to the younger girl, feeling her sparrow-like body and inhaling the scent of her skin, a mixture of lemon and ozone, like the air before and after the lightning strikes.
“Niall? Alvise?” Sean and Sarah asked, their anxious words overlapping.
“They both survived. Come!”
They half walked, half ran, Sean holding his side, leaning on Sarah. Soon they reached the edge of the clearing, where the trees were thickest and provided the most cover. Two figures crouched there, one kneeling, the other in great pain. Niall was lying on the ground, his eyes closed, head resting on Alvise’s lap.
Sarah knelt beside them and caressed Niall’s white face, sweeping his auburn hair away from his forehead. “Are you sure he’s okay?” she murmured. Please let him be okay, for Winter, for his family back in Ireland. For us, his friends.
“I am sure. I healed him,” Alvise replied. Only then did Sarah notice that Niall’s face looked peaceful, glowing, like a huge load had been taken off his shoulders.
All of a sudden Sean let himself fall to his knees on the grass, a bout of pain taking the strength out of his legs. Sarah was beside him at once.
“Let me,” Alvise said gently. He gestured to Micol, and she sat on the grass in his place, taking Niall’s head on her lap. Alvise kneeled beside Sean, and undid Sarah’s makeshift bandage. Sean groaned, his forehead covered in a thin film of sweat. Sarah was horrified. The wound was deeper than she’d originally thought. The laceration was an ugly gaping hole, and Sean’s T-shirt was soaked in blood. How could he make the journey back? Sarah trembled inside, but didn’t show anything on the outside because she didn’t want to upset Sean. Silent words were exchanged between Sarah and Alvise as their eyes met over Sean’s head. The Italian man closed his eyes and rested his hands on Sean’s abdomen. Sean whimpered softly and tensed as Alvise touched him, but then he too closed his eyes, his features relaxing, smoothing. A warm golden light, similar to Lucrezia’s iris, began emanating from Alvise’s hands.
Alvise took his hands away. Sarah gasped as she caught a glimpse of his palms: they were full of blood, and lacerated, but the tears in his palms started healing at once. Alvise’s face relaxed as the gashes closed and disappeared, leaving only the faint ghost of a mark.
“It doesn’t hurt any more,” Sean said, amazed. A puckered, raised scar, whiter than the rest of his skin, had taken the place of his wound. “How did you do it?” he asked.
“This is my power,” said Alvise. “Healing.”
Sean gazed at him in silent awe. Of all the gifts he’d seen in his many years as a Gamekeeper, this was the one that amazed him the most.
“What happened down there?” Micol interjected.
Sean climbed to his feet. “It’s a long story, Micol. I suppose all you need to know for now is that the King of Shadows is dead.”
“What happened to Nicholas?”
“He’s gone,” Sarah said. “We’ll tell you everything . . . as soon as we make it out of here.” She looked at the scorched earth and the boulders in the middle of the clearing behind them, the ground black all around. Even though the blue lightning had stopped and everything was calm, she didn’t want to stay in this place for one minute longer.
“I kept mental notes of how we got here. I think I know how . . .” Sean began.
“Sean? Sarah?” Niall had opened his eyes.
“Hey . . .” Sarah crouched beside him and helped him sit up.
“Am I alive?” he said, patting his chest in disbelief. “I thought I was dead.”
“You were very close. Alvise healed you,” said Sean. “And he healed me too.”
Niall stared at Alvise. “You healed us?”
Alvise nodded, smiling. “That’s what I do,” he said.
“Well, I owe you one . . .” Niall said in his light-hearted way, but the look on his face betrayed his emotion.
“Come on. We’d better go. It’s a long way back,” said Sean, offering Niall his hand.
“There will be no journey back,” Alvise whispered. He raised his hand. The spiral imprinted on his palm was glowing. Golden ribbons began twirling in front of them, opening a rift in time and space for them to step through.
Lucrezia was calling them back.