He couldn’t deceive her.
She looked into his eyes without fear, and she saw that he had just spoken the truth.
59
Prophecies
Hidden away
In the White Tower
But he will come flying
On the wings of the raven
“Can we trust him?” Sean ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “Or will he lead us to our death?”
Sean, Sarah, Winter, Niall and Elodie were standing in the smoke-ravaged entrance to Midnight Hall, rucksacks piled beside them. They had left Nicholas resting on a makeshift bed in the kitchen while they readied themselves to leave.
“Well, how else will we find this gate? Only Nicholas knows where it is. You’ve seen the state he’s in, it’s not like he can attack us,” said Elodie.
“Nicholas said somewhere east, and the signal we intercepted back in Louisiana, Mike and I,” Niall looked away, still unable to say his friend’s name without a pang of sorrow, “it came from eastern Europe, somewhere.”
“There’s something else,” said Sarah, “something I remembered during the battle.” Sarah beckoned them to follow her down the corridor and into her grandmother’s study.
There was no light coming through the windows, just the black, snowy sky. The light inside the room was strangely blue, and the embers in the fireplace still glowed. Their shadows moved along the walls as they entered.
They watched as Sarah walked towards the desk and stepped behind it. She took the painting of wild horses hanging on the wall above and rested it carefully against the wall.
“I knew it,” she whispered. She’d been right. The secret alcove her grandmother had shown her was there, stone shelves carved in the wall itself. And on the shelves, a thick, leather-bound volume.
“My grandmother gave me this the day before she died. She must have known what was going to happen. She forbade me from reading it until I was sure it was time. And I had forgotten all about it.” She decided against telling them what had reminded her.
Sarah held the book up for everyone to see. Engraved in gold letters on the dark brown leather cover were the words Carmina Prophetica. “It’s a book of prophecies,” she explained, and opened it to where the bookmark, a red velvet ribbon, had been placed many years before.
“A great evil will rise from the East,” Sarah read. “Secret people will follow the blind man.” There was a collective intake of breath as their thoughts went to Nicholas. “And they will lose much and suffer much, because theirs is the ruined blood of the Secret children. The soil will run red and the trees will dance as the earth opens and the shadows rise in the white tower.”
“The white tower?” asked Sean. “Any indication of where that is?”
“Not a clue.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Suddenly, after all the uncertainty and wondering and waiting, the next step in the battle was becoming clear.
“That’s funny,” murmured Elodie, breaking the silence.
“What?” asked Sean.
“One of the tales in the book Harry gave me. It talks about a princess in a white tower. Never mind.” She gave a small shrug.
“Right. We need to get ready,” said Sean authoritatively, striding out. Elodie followed him.
As she walked towards the kitchen to go check on Nicholas, the French girl silently finished her thought. A princess prisoner in a white tower. And in the story a prince flying on the wings of a raven is the one who saves her.
A long, cold shiver slithered down her spine.
60
One More Chance
I never thought I would
Hear your voice again
When the others left the room Sarah lingered for a few moments. She was alone, she could see that, and yet she didn’t feel alone. She looked at the book in her hand, wondering if the presence she felt might be that of the person who had last held it. Morag Midnight. She shuddered at the thought. But as she walked from the room she felt a small hand entangled in her hair, and she sighed in relief. “Mairead,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
She ran downstairs. There was something else Sarah needed to do before they left. Alone. Just for a minute, she begged, and reluctantly Sean agreed, as long as she didn’t wander out of sight. He was now standing a hundred yards from her, watching her clutch her mobile with shaking hands, her hood shielding the snow from the back of her neck.
She had to speak to them. It might be the last time. She decided to start with the conversation that was likely to be less painful. Bryony.
Three bars