But I don’t. I simply turn away, slouching farther into the bottom of the boat without putting reason to my traitorous silence.
The ride across the sea is broken by nothing but the rocking of the boat and the occasional distribution of food and water. Our packs have been carefully rationed to sustain us until we reach London, but we are cautious with our supplies nonetheless.
I feel trapped, as if the Souls are shadowing my every move though there is not another vessel in sight. Even with the gentle rocking of the boat, sleep does not come easily. I press my body close to Dimitri’s through an impossibly cold night, though I cannot say if it is physical warmth or mental strength that I seek. I drift in and out of consciousness, half-expecting some monstrous beast to rise out of the sea and pull me over the side. I think I would not fight fate should it choose to see my life end beneath the blackness of the water.
By the time the English shoreline comes into view the next morning, I hardly care whether we make landfall or not. The boat, at least, is a reprieve from the burden I feel more fully with each passing minute as we make our way back to London.
I can hardly keep my own thoughts, my own motivations, in order. How, then, will I bring together Sonia, Luisa, Helene, and now Brigid? And how will I do so when my own relationship with Sonia and Luisa is so damaged? How will I get everyone to Avebury to fulfill the Rite as the prophecy says I must?
Most impossible of all, how will I ever bring Alice to our side, for the prophecy is clear in its dictate that Guardian and Gate must work in unity to see the Gate closed forever?
These questions fight for purchase in my mind as Dimitri and Gareth steer the boat closer to shore. Gareth guides the vessel to an empty slip, and soon we are stepping unsteadily out of the boat and onto the dock.
“Will we have horses?” Brigid asks no one in particular.
Gareth scans the waterfront. “We certainly will.”
Dimitri takes hold of my hand, and we follow Gareth and Brigid over the splintered wood pilings and onto the road that runs in front of the water.
“Ah, there they are!” Gareth strides toward two young men, each of whom leads two horses.
I recognize Sargent immediately, but the realization does not bring with it the same delight as it has in the past. My pleasure at seeing the horse feels numb and distant, and I can only force a smile as I stroke his neck.
Gareth murmurs softly to the young men. They hand the horses’ reins to Gareth and disappear into the teeming streets. The people bump and shove around us, and I have a sudden moment of panic as I try to observe them all, checking their necks for the mark of the Guard.
“It’s all right, Lia.” Dimitri is at my side, taking Sargent’s reins from my hand as he braces a hand against the animal’s neck. “Get on your horse, and I will see you clear of the crowd.”
I don’t know how he senses my panic, but my racing heart slows ever so slightly. I am too relieved to be ashamed that his presence should bring me such comfort, and I grab the saddle and lift myself onto Sargent’s back. Being above the masses gives me an immediate sense of security. I take the reins from Dimitri’s hands and inhale deeply, trying to talk myself out of the momentary panic of a few moments ago.
Brigid mounts her horse, a dappled white steed, without difficulty, and soon we are headed away from the waterfront. As we leave behind the odor and rubbish in favor of the open fields and distant woods of the countryside, my panic eases.
But my relief is only temporary, for I know it is short-lived. In little more than a week, I will be back in London, surrounded by unfamiliar people, the keys—and my sister.
25
“What will happen when we get to London?”
It is our third night on English soil, and Brigid and I are sitting by the fire as Dimitri and Gareth settle the horses for the evening. I have not felt like talking and have made a poor traveling companion, but I’ve grown used to Brigid’s quiet presence. She reminds me of Sonia in the days before we came to London, though Brigid’s calm seems to come from inner serenity rather than from shyness or fear.
“I’ll introduce you to the other keys. Luisa and Sonia were… are two of my dearest friends. Helene arrived just before I left for Loughcrew, so I’m afraid I cannot tell you much about her other than to say that she is as anxious as we are to be free of the prophecy. Then there are Aunt Virginia and Edmund.” I turn to smile at her. The expression feels unfamiliar on my face. “They are wonderful and kind. You’ll like them both, I’m sure.”
She nods. “And then?”
I take a deep breath. “Then I must speak to my sister, Alice, to see if she will join us at Avebury on the eve of Beltane.”
Brigid rests her head on her knees, her eyes shimmering hazel in the light of the fire. “And do you think you can convince her?”
I turn away from her gaze, looking into the flames of the fire. “Alice is… Well, I’ve already told you that she works on behalf of Samael and the Souls. Has always worked on their behalf, if I am to be honest. We are, for all intents and purposes, enemies.”
Brigid’s eyes cloud over with confusion. “Then how will you get her to help us close the Gate?”
“I don’t have that part figured out, but she saved my life once.” My voice dims to a murmur as the memory takes hold. I see the rain, the river rushing with furor behind Birchwood Manor, Alice pushing Henry into its swiftly moving current. I see her holding the branch out to me, hanging over the riverbank, placing her own life in peril to pull me to safety.
I turn to back to Brigid. “There are whole stretches of time when she seems a stranger to me, and then, all at once, I think I catch a glimpse of her humanity. I suppose I’m hoping to appeal to her in one of those moments, though I admit it’s unlikely.”
I do not tell her that Alice and I have already discussed our opposing roles. That she has already refused me, time and again. Appealing to Alice is my only hope, and telling one of the keys that that hope is already lost will do nothing to aid our shared sense of purpose.
“What will we do then? If she will not stand with us?” I cannot help but admire the calm in Brigid’s voice. Though the workings of the prophecy are new to her, she knows what is at stake. Yet, there is no trace of panic in her words.
There is a part of me that would like to allow her innocence, but the time for empty promises has passed. More and more, it seems that the truth is all we have, and I turn to meet her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
This time, I am not in the woods but amid the icy, barren landscape of the Void.
I am dreaming, but knowing it does nothing to alleviate my terror. I do not dare a glance back as I spur my horse onward, but I know that the Hounds are near from their alarmingly close howl.
And they are not alone.
Behind them, the Souls thunder toward me, their horses’ hooves sounding a horrific crack against the thick sheet of ice beneath our feet. I force myself to look forward. To focus on escape. If I dare look down, I will see those trapped, still half-alive, beneath the ice by Samael and his Souls. I will see them and know my fate.
The dream is one in which there is no end. There is no sanctuary ahead. No place in which I might find refuge. The ice stretches on and on in every direction, its bleak sameness broken only by the blue sky above. Even as I know it is no accident, I cannot help but think it ironic that the azure sky in the Void is always clear. How cruel to force those trapped beneath the ice to view, day after day, the beautiful sky, the golden Otherworldly sun, and to know they will never again feel its warmth.
The futility of my attempt to escape weakens my resolve, and my pace slows even as I will the horse forward. It is no use. The Hounds are closer still, their yelps and howls clearer and more ominous. The Souls are just behind them, their horses gaining ground by the moment.
And the truth is, I am tired. I am tired of fighting the will of the Souls. Tired of fighting fate. Tired of fighting my sister. Perhaps Alice is right, after all. Perh
aps it is wiser to salvage what I can of my own life and the lives of those I love.
But then I remember Henry. I remember his death at Alice’s hands, and I know the Souls share responsibility for his demise. Wasn’t it they who whispered, coaxed, and cajoled Alice to do their bidding? Wasn’t it they who worked to turn her to their cause from the time she was a babe in the cradle?
The thought awakens my fury, and I lean farther over the horse.
Dream or not, one thing is certain: The Souls cannot be allowed to catch me. Not in my dream world. Not in the physical world. Not in the Otherworlds.
If they do, I know I will be consigned to the Void forever.
Dimitri stays with me in the hours after my nightmare. I worry about him leaving his post outside the tent, but he assures me that Gareth can manage a night so quiet. As the morning light gradually seeps through the canvas of my tent, Dimitri drops off to sleep. I do not have the heart to wake him, and I listen to the rise and fall of his breath, planning to let him sleep just a while longer.
But he is not allowed the luxury. A moment later we are both startled by a shout from beyond the tent walls. Dimitri jumps up as if he has been awake all along, racing outside without hesitation, clothes askew, as I shove my feet haphazardly into my boots. I do not bother lacing them before following Dimitri into the morning sunlight.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness, and I shield them by holding a hand to my brow.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” Dimitri and Gareth are standing near the horses and packs as I shout from across the camp. But it is only when my eyes scan the area, looking for the source of their concern, that I notice oddly shaped and colored objects strewn across the ground.
Making my way to Dimitri and Gareth, I pass the articles lying about and realize they are our belongings.
Gareth turns to me. The confusion in his face causes me to worry even before his words can. “It’s our water. Someone has emptied our water.”
I look around, not sure to what he is referring. “Our water? Whatever do you mean?”
Dimitri holds up one of our water skins, turning it upside down. Not even a drop falls from its spout. “Someone came into our camp during the night and emptied all of our canteens and skins of water.”
“But who would do such a thing?” Brigid’s voice comes from my side. Her hair is still unbound, the copper highlights catching what little light shines from the gray sky above. “And why?”
Dimitri wipes a hand over his face in a familiar gesture of tiredness and frustration. “I don’t know, but that’s not the thing that bothers me most.”
Gareth is on the ground, digging through the remaining packs, as I try to grasp the meaning of Dimitri’s words.
“What bothers you most?”
“Whoever it was came into the camp even with Gareth and me on guard. It’s true that I was with you during the latter part of the night, but prior to that we took turns attending to personal matters and sleeping. Gareth says he did not leave the camp unguarded for a single second after my departure.”
“Someone stole into the camp? They snuck around you even as you stood watch?” I feel new admiration for Brigid as she asks the questions, for there is only curiosity in her voice, and an obvious desire to understand the situation.
Gareth stands up. “The horses and packs were under the trees at the perimeter of the camp. We have not been worried about our supplies, only our physical safety. I suppose it’s possible someone stealthy could have managed it.” He pauses, looking around. “But I’m afraid that is not the most disturbing thing about the situation.”
“What could be more disturbing than someone violating the privacy of our camp and disposing of all of our water while we’re only feet away?” Brigid asks.
Even before Dimitri answers, I have an unsettling feeling that I know what he will say.
“Someone violating the privacy of our camp without leaving a trace of their presence.” He looks at me before turning back to Brigid. “Gareth and I found nary a footprint or hoof mark. Whoever it was, whatever it was, came and left as if it were a ghost.”
Replacing our water is not so much difficult as bothersome. It would be nearly impossible to die of thirst in England, but refilling the canteens takes time, and we are all aware of the ticking clock and the many things left to do before we can perform the Rite at Avebury. The mystery of what happened to our water—and more specifically, who is responsible—adds another layer of tension to our small group, and we are silent, all lost in our own thoughts as we bend over a river near the camp before we depart for the day.
“Who do you think it was?” Brigid asks.
Water replenished, we are picking up the clothing and personal items strewn about the camp while Dimitri and Gareth break down the tents.
I shake my head. “I would say it’s someone working on behalf of the Souls, or perhaps the Guard, only…”
Her eyes meet mine. “They left no tracks.”
I nod. “The Souls are prohibited from using magic in the physical world. The one exception is shifting, but I have thought it through, and any animal that might have made its way into camp unnoticed would not be able to empty the canteens.”
Brigid folds one of Gareth’s shirts, pushing it into his pack. “Could the intruder have shifted yet again once within the boundaries of the camp?”
I nod. “I know what you mean. If one of the Souls was able to make its way into camp as, say, a hawk, it might not leave tracks. And if it shifted back into a man once here, it would be able to empty our water. Still… Even though the horses and packs were under shelter of the trees, I do believe Dimitri and Gareth would have noticed another man there, even for a short time.” I hesitate to voice the other thought at the back of my mind, but Brigid senses my unspoken words.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?”
I sit back, tying my pack closed and looking at Brigid as I speak. We are in this together now. “I cannot figure the why of it. Why would someone go to the trouble of emptying our water? It’s easy enough to replenish. It’s not as if we’re in the desert. It seems an impractical way to delay our return to England. Almost… childish. Futile. Don’t you agree?”
Brigid looks at the ground, mulling over my words. The silence between us confirms what I already believed: Brigid has no more answers than I.
We do not have time to discuss the matter further, for moments later Dimitri signals that the tents are packed and the horses ready. Brigid and I rise without another word, but all day she is quiet, and I know she has not forgotten our conversation.
She is not alone. I turn the events over and over in my mind, and though I do not fully understand their meaning, I cannot help but believe that, in the game of the prophecy, a substantial move has been made.
And deep down I know it is only the beginning.
26
We travel the next day without incident. Gareth and Dimitri double back repeatedly to look for tracks but find no hint of anyone in pursuit. The sun, at last free of the overbearing clouds, fights its way through the branches and leaves of the trees, tipping everything with gold. The countryside is beautiful and peaceful, the sun bringing with it a welcome warmth. But it does nothing to lift my spirits. I am haunted by the feeling that someone or something is in pursuit.
I know the forces of evil well. They will be back.
Gareth and Brigid keep each other company in front while Dimitri remains close behind. We do not feel the need to speak, and I try to recall if James and I ever spent so much time together, alone but silent. I am surprised to find that I cannot remember, as if everything that has happened since leaving New York has rendered my past a faded watercolor. I can make out the shapes, but all the details are gone.
Everything but Henry, who remains as vivid as if I saw him only yesterday.
I force the thought from my mind. Like Henry, James is gone, though in another way entirely. Thinking of him will do me no good, except in
the context of saving him from Alice’s grasp. My time with James has come and gone. It will not return.
And though I love Dimitri, he cannot factor into my plans, either. My future cannot be determined by love alone. There’s far too much at stake.
For me. For the people of Altus. For the world itself.
When sleep comes I return to the Void. The Hounds are nearer still, the Souls close on their tails, and I drive my horse across the frigid landscape, catching glimpses of faces, frozen into grimaces and screams, beneath the ice. A moment later I am awakened by my own screams, surprised to find Dimitri bent over my blankets and shaking me awake.
“Wake up, Lia! It’s only a dream!” His eyes are black pools in the darkness of the tent, and for one frightening moment, he resembles a corpse.
I sit up, clasping a hand to my chest and trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart, the breath that comes too quickly from my lungs.
“Are you all right?” Dimitri’s voice is gentle. “I’ve been here for some time. I heard you whimpering, but I could not wake you until just this moment.”
Running a hand through my tangled hair, I touch my fingers to my temples, noting the dull throb beneath the skin. “How long have you been here?”
“About five minutes, I suppose.”
I meet his eyes. “And I… I wouldn’t wake up?”
He shakes his head. Even in the darkness of the tent, I see his worry.
“You don’t think I was traveling, do you?” I am not sure I want to know the answer, but neither can I allow myself the luxury of not knowing.
He sighs deeply, looking away as if afraid to meet my eyes. “I don’t know. It’s against the laws of the Otherworlds, the laws of the Grigori, to force someone to the Plane against her will—”
“I didn’t will myself to the Plane, if that’s what you are insinuating!”
He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Of course you didn’t. I’m simply trying to consider all the possibilities.”