Tide - By Daniela Sacerdoti Page 0,94

for me one day. He is my precious son, and I know that he can play his part in our battles. Make sure he’s alright, make sure he finds his place in the world. And never, never tell him of my shame.

You’re my only hope.

Yours,

Amelia Campbell Hannay.

“Oh, God.”

“What’s up? All OK?” Hearing her curse, Niall had poked his head in from the hall. Sarah shook her head, putting a hand up to silence him. She read the letter again, and once more.

Sean. Amelia’s son. In New Zealand.

Sean’s parents died when he was a child. He was raised by his grandparents.

Allan Hannay’s son.

Sean Hannay.

“Sarah?”

“Yes. Yes.” She took a deep breath and clutched the letter to her chest. “I’ve found a very special letter, Niall.”

“And important it looks too,” he mocked half-heartedly, sensing her mood.

Sarah nodded. “Yes. Very important. Have you seen Sean?” she added in a trembling voice.

“I think he’s in the kitchen.”

Sarah looked at him, wide-eyed. “I can’t explain now. I’ll tell you later,” she whispered, and ran off.

Sean was lost in thought, looking out of the kitchen window into the lilac sky, nursing a cup of steaming coffee. He smiled when Sarah came to stand beside him, but his smile faded when he saw her serious expression.

“Sean,” she said. “I need to speak to you.”

49

Look Behind You

There’s more than one way to forget

Whether it’s you or myself that I hurt

Every drop of blood

Is a memory gone

“Nicholas,” whispered Elodie. They watched as Sean and Sarah emerged from the kitchen and stood together at the edge of the garden, where the grass ended and the sand began, out on their own to speak in private. The bond between Sean and Sarah, the pull between them, was so strong that it was nearly visible, a silver chain tying them together. Elodie and Nicholas watched as Sean stepped back and put his head in his hands, and Sarah reached out to him.

When Sean and Sarah were finally in each other’s arms, Elodie grew pale, and at first Nicholas didn’t show any visible emotion. He stood still and silent, looking on as if it didn’t matter. But inside him it was like old times, like the Nicholas he used to be. He had an irresistible urge to destroy something, anything. To kill and maim, to inflict on someone else the pain he was feeling. Suddenly he raised his hand, and the ravens were with him once more. At once, there was a symphony of whispers in his head – calls, and greetings, and congratulations. The speed of the reaction stunned him. Nicholas is back, they said.

Startled, Elodie watched the ravens circle above their heads with dark, liquid eyes. Then she turned to him, as if something fundamental had changed in her life too. “Do this for me,” she said, and rolled up her sleeve, exposing her white, delicate arm. “Ask the ravens to help me forget.”

Nicholas stared at her. What was she thinking? “I don’t understand,” he whispered. I don’t want to understand.

Her arm was tiny, her skin was too thin, and still there were no veins to be seen, as if she’d been bled already. Her blood isn’t flowing properly, thought Nicholas. Once more, he had seen something in Elodie’s eyes that he wished wasn’t there.

“Ask them to hurt me, to make me forget.”

Nicholas was horrified. “Don’t ask me to do that, Elodie.”

“Why? It wouldn’t be the first time you make your ravens hurt someone.”

Nicholas continued to stare at her. What does she know? What has she guessed? “Demons. Not Secret heirs.”

“I’m not asking you to kill me. Just help me take the pain away,” she pleaded, fixing her eyes on his. Her look reminded Nicholas of someone. Someone spent, tired of living.

Then he remembered. His mother.

At that moment, the fury he’d felt watching Sarah and Sean holding each other faded as quickly as it had come. If he hated anyone, it was himself. He closed his eyes. What was happening to him? His thoughts whirled, rearranging themselves in his head, contradicting each other, making no sense. He wouldn’t kill anymore, he wouldn’t hurt again. He needed to get away.

“They can see us,” he whispered, and led Elodie round the side of the house, across a little dirt road and up onto a grassy mound. They stood overlooking the ocean, screaming seagulls in the grey sky above.

“What happened to you, Elodie?” he asked, taking her by the shoulders.

“Harry died,” she answered simply.

She’s as soft, as white as a dove – but she’s black