Tide - By Daniela Sacerdoti Page 0,55

why there are so many of them out there.

“I’m Nicholas Donal.”

“Donal? There are no more Donals,” said Niall curtly. Sean’s heart skipped a beat. “At least, that’s what I was led to believe. I thought the last of the Donals died years ago, in the war. My grandfather used to know them.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Clearly, there are still some of us around. Me, and my parents. A lot of Families prefer not to advertise their existence. I’m sure you understand why.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly charged. “How did you get here, guys?” she asked quickly. She didn’t like Nicholas being subjected to the third degree.

“We managed to find a passage on a cargo ship,” replied Niall. “Thought we were the luckiest fellas alive, until a Makara attacked us.”

“A Makara?” said Sean, astonished. “Really? Oh my God! Was it as deadly as they say?”

Mike nodded. “Worse. Fifteen guys in the crew, plus us. Only one crewman survived – just. And the captain. It’s a miracle we’re alive.”

Sean shook his head in horror.

“By the way, Sarah. There was someone here when we arrived. An old lady,” said Niall.

“Oh yes, the housekeeper. Don’t worry, she’s on our side.”

“And a little girl. With blonde hair,” he added, gesturing to his own reddish-brown hair.

“I didn’t see any little girl. Just an old woman,” Mike intervened.

Sarah stared at him. A blonde girl? The same girl I saw after the scrying spell? Her lips went to form an answer – though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say – when a sudden noise silenced her. Something slamming, deep inside the house.

27

Blood and Paper

Words will reach you

From the depths of time

Hidden in the prayer book

She left behind

“Stay here, Sarah,” said Nicholas at once. Another attack, without my knowledge?

“No. I’m coming with you.” She stood and faced him, the tilt of her chin making it clear that she would not be told what to do. Not in Midnight Hall.

Sean smiled inwardly. The old Sarah, shining through. “Everyone ready?” he whispered, his sgian-dubh in his hand once more.

“Ready.” Elodie’s lips had already turned blue.

“You look freaky,” whispered Niall.

“Shut up,” Elodie growled.

Mike grinned. “Amen!”

The sound had come from the end of the corridor. They stepped out of the room warily, leaving the vestibule and staircase behind them, and advanced towards the heart of the house. Nicholas and Sean were on either side of Sarah at the front of the group, and Niall and Elodie at the back, with Mike behind them, walking backwards, his gun ready.

“I think it came from here,” whispered Sean, and stepped into a room whose walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves brimming with books, and a stone fireplace against the far wall.

“This used to be my grandmother’s study,” Sarah whispered back. The fire had been lit by Mrs McArthur, and Sean noticed at once that it was flickering and hissing, its flames veering towards the windows.

A draught, he thought immediately, and looked towards the heavy velvet curtains drawn over them. Three sets of curtains were still, but one was blowing ever so gently, and from the gap between the two sheets of fabric a fine drizzle was being sprayed in by the wind.

“Over there,” whispered Sean, gesturing to the windows.

“I’m on it.” Nicholas walked over, slow and careful. He threw the curtains open, jumping to the side at once.

A collective intake of breath.

Nothing. Just the open window, and the empty beach beyond it.

“Look.” Elodie pointed to a track of wet footsteps that led to the heavy, dark wooden desk in the corner. “Someone got in. And out again.”

Sarah walked slowly over to the desk. A parcel was sitting on it, wrapped in brown paper and fastened with … stringy seaweed? Her eyes widened. She brushed some sand from the parcel. Sean, Nicholas, Mike and Niall had formed a semicircle around her, all standing on guard.

“There’s a note as well. There.” Elodie gestured to a small, square piece of paper, with a little white-blue Venus shell sitting on top to stop it from blowing away.

Sarah opened it: For Sarah, it read simply.

“Be careful,” Sean reminded her.

She nodded, and gently untied the string of seaweed, opening the parcel with care. Inside was a stack of creamy paper covered in small, old-fashioned writing in black ink. Sarah lifted the first sheet.

Dear Amelia,

It began. Sarah turned the page to look at the signature:

Morag Midnight

“My grandmother’s letters,” she said, wide-eyed.

At that moment, a gust of wind blew through the open window, and with it