Tide - By Daniela Sacerdoti Page 0,35

said.

Don’t leave my side again, she didn’t say.

“Elodie. This is Sarah.”

Elodie looked from one to the other, and back again. The expression on Sean’s face had taken her by surprise. Sarah’s presence makes him happy, she realized, and the thought stung, for reasons she couldn’t really understand.

“Harry’s wife,” said Sarah.

“Yes.”

They looked at each other for a second, and Elodie’s expression was harder than she intended. Sarah held her gaze, not giving anything away.

“Sit down, Sarah. Here, near the fire.” Sean led her to the warmth. He was concerned by her frail appearance. “Coffee? Something to eat?” he offered.

Sarah half-smiled. Sean seemed to think caffeine was the answer to everything. She remembered once, after a terrible attack where they both nearly got strangled by a seven-foot tall demon and Sean had been hit over the head with such force that he’d passed out, after coming to he’d gone straight to the kitchen to make himself an espresso.

“Yes please,” she said, surprising herself. “I’m starving.”

And she was. It wasn’t the time and place to explain to Sean how little she’d been eating, how every time she was around Nicholas she lost any interest in food. But now her stomach was rumbling. She was reminded of when Harry – Sean – had first arrived, how that night she had been able to eat properly for the first time since her parents’ death.

“I’m on it,” said Sean, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Sarah and Elodie in an awkward silence, studying each other from under their eyelashes. Thankfully, he was back in a few minutes with steaming coffee and some toast. Sarah tucked in, relishing every mouthful.

“Sarah was attacked,” Sean explained to Elodie.

“You can’t be left alone,” the French girl remarked at once. She sounded genuinely worried, but her implication that Sarah couldn’t fend for herself annoyed her no end.

“I’m here, am I not?” she snapped.

Elodie lowered her head and Sarah felt strangely triumphant.

“What was it? Did you kill it?” asked Sean. He waited while she finished her toast, noticing how fast she ate it.

“I’ve never seen a Surari like that before,” Sarah answered, cleaning her hands carefully on the napkin. “For real or in my dreams. It had a bird’s face … and clawed hands. But the rest of it looked quite human – arms and legs in all the right places. It was dark, though, and I didn’t kill it. It … flew away.”

“Flew?”

Sarah nodded.

“This means it’s still around,” hissed Elodie.

Sarah ignored her again.

“How did you find the cottage?” asked Sean, apparently unaware of the tension between Sarah and Elodie.

“Guess.” Sarah twisted to lift her jumper slightly. On her lower back there was a red, angry mark that was beginning to turn blue.

Sean winced. “The scrying spell,” he guessed, remembering what had happened the time they’d cast that spell together.

“Oh, and this.” Sarah brushed her hair away, revealing a blue bump on her forehead. “At least the demon-bird only shred my jacket and not my skin. By the way, this is yours.” She buried her hand inside her jeans pocket and took out the red velvet pouch.

“My protection charm. I must have left it when … when I …” When I pinned you down, trying to stop you from using the Midnight gaze.

“Yes.” Sarah knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Oh God, Sarah! There’s your blood on it. I wish you had never cast that spell. You should have just asked me!”

“Well, I managed it myself, Sean. I’m here now,” she said coolly, biting into a second slice of toast.

Elodie looked from one to the other again, trying to take it all in. There was something between them, something she was no part of. Her heart sank, and she didn’t even know why.

“We have something to show you.”

She took a book from the mantelpiece and sat beside Sarah at the fireplace. Sean joined them, and the two blonde heads and the black one bent over the book.

“Harry gave me this before I left. He wrote a message in it. It’s in Gaelic,” said Elodie, showing Sarah the scribbled sentence.

“S ann an Ile a tha n fhreagairt. Cum faire air Morag, airson gur ise an iuchair,” murmured Sarah without hesitation. “The accents are missing.”

“OK, but what does it mean?” said Elodie impatiently.

“Did Harry leave this message for you?”

“Yes.”

“We think that Harry knew Elodie would need you to translate it. That’s why he wrote it in Gaelic,” explained Sean.

“So what does it mean?” Elodie repeated.

Sarah sat back in her chair. “It means I was right.