Destiny (10 page)

F
ROM THE
D
IARY OF
H
ELEN
B
LACK

M
IDNIGHT
, O
CTOBER
9

A
ll would be well, and all manner of things would be well….

I really believed it, at that moment. I really did. But when we got to the grotto, everything seemed less clear. Velvet’s Testing was extraordinary. Terrifying. Agnes spoke against her.
You are marked by death,
she said. When I heard those words, a pain stabbed through my whole body.

Velvet is marked by death and I am marked and set apart by the Seal. “From where do such signs come? Many Scholars declare they are a Sign of great Destiny, with Death in their wake.”

Velvet is my own dark angel, a version of myself that haunts me. She knows guilt and fear and shame—my constant companions.
Oh, I thought I was getting free of all this! For one moment when Lynton spoke, I thought Miss Scratton’s prophecies might actually come true!

At least I still have you, Wanderer. You always listen, patient, not judging, never answering back. But I am hungry for a response, for someone who doesn’t just listen but who speaks to me. I ache not just for words but for someone’s touch, and laughter, and the look in their eyes—

I have a strange feeling that it’s my duty to write everything down and record everything as a witness for future generations, for the daughter I will never have.

Daughter, young as the new moon,

Carry my story into the future days,

Carry my love with you as you walk

By the river of time, free and glad.

So here is my witness. This is what was said and done in this sacred, cursed valley of Wyldcliffe.

I managed to get through supper the night of Velvet’s Testing, even though Dr. Franzen was there, flourishing his cane as he walked in to preside over the meal and glaring down at us from his carved chair. I shrank from his
glance as usual, desperately hoping that he didn’t recognize me. When the meal was over at last, I dragged my friends outside to the empty terrace. The rain was over. There was a fresh dampness in the air, and a few lights from the village twinkled in the distance.

“We need to contact Kundar,” I said hurriedly. “The people of the earth, Agnes said. When can we get to see them?” But as I looked at my friends, the scene in front of my eyes began to change. I no longer saw Evie and Sarah, or the deserted terrace, or the bare branches of the tangled rose that grew against the low wall. A group of women stood by the lake, and I seemed to glide swiftly over the grass to meet them, making no sound as I moved. The women’s faces came into focus. They looked like carved statues in the moonlight, and I knew that each one of them had great power, but had made different choices. I saw my mother’s proud features, and Agnes’s delicate beauty, and Velvet laughing at me, and then a fourth woman drew off her scarf to reveal herself. My heart leaped and voices sang in my head. It was Miss Scratton.

“Tell me what to do!” I tried to say, but I couldn’t speak, and my true thoughts echoed in my head.
I lied about you and the Eye of Time…. I’m so sorry…guide me now…I need you.

Miss Scratton looked at me gravely, then scattered some dry leaves over the lake. The surface of the water changed into a gleaming mirror. I saw squat strong men, with rough clothes of fur and skins, riding swift ponies across the hills—the Kinsfolk. The scene rolled in front of my eyes like a movie, and I watched them arrive at the circle of stones. The blocks of granite were raw and new, and as the riders fell to their knees in homage, the sun rose from behind the hills. Light…indescribable light flooded the wild landscape, and in that dazzling light there seemed to be a hidden company of beautiful people, like something from a forgotten story, and the sky was full of music.

I don’t know how long I stood there. The song I could hear grew more powerful and wild. The face of the stranger—Lynton—came into my mind; then I thought of Tom, my Wanderer, and felt close to tears. Lynton was my beautiful stranger, but the Wanderer had been everything: my friend, my inspiration, my only hope. It was as though he was very close, and that if I just said the right word he would come back to me, just as he had walked into my life out of nowhere so many times before. Then I heard a voice saying, “You’ve got to choose, Helen. You’ve got to decide. It’s up to you.” And I knew the voice was
asking me to choose between him and Lynton, between the past and the future.

“It’s up to you, Helen.” It was Evie, dragging me back, away from my dreams. “You decide.”

“Decide what?” I said, dazed for a moment.

“About going to the caverns to see Kundar, of course.”

“I think we should go tonight,” Sarah said briskly, as though organizing nothing more complicated than a summer picnic. “Can we all get out of school at midnight?”

“No, not midnight, now!” I said. “We can’t wait. Agnes said to call them quickly, and she’s right, we can’t delay another minute!” If I was ever going to reach the place of light and beauty that I had just seen, I had to get through the tasks that faced me as quickly as I could. Only then could I get to my future. “We have to do it now!”

“What—now? Here?” Evie asked doubtfully. “How?”

But Miss Scratton had given me a sign. “The water of the lake,” I tried to explain. “We can use it as a mirror—a window to the Kinsfolk. Evie, we need your powers of water.”

I led the way from the terrace down to the deserted lake. There was no sign of the women I had seen, no shadowy figures. The ruined chapel was swathed in mist, like a ghostly ship riding an endless sea. The water of the lake
was still, but tall grasses and reeds swayed gently in the evening air, making a rustling, whispering noise. “Evie, ask the water to reveal our friends,” I said.

Evie knelt in the mossy ground at the water’s edge and stretched her hands over the lake. “Water of life…awake…flow through our minds…show us messages and memories in your endless stream…. Water of life…hear us…we thirst for the truth…show us your powers.”

The clouds parted and the moon’s reflection dipped in the water like a silver spoon. A circle of light began to glow on the surface of the lake, like a glassy mirror filled with swirling mist.

“Call your people, Sarah,” I urged. “Call the Kinsfolk.”

Sarah stood next to Evie and raised her arms in supplication over the water. “Kundar,” she called in a low voice. “You said you would come when I needed you. I am your queen. Awake! Hear my words! Kinsfolk, people of earth, answer me. Show yourselves.”

In the silvery circle the mists swirled and parted, and we saw the dark outline of a weathered face. It was Kundar. “Hail, great queen,” he said with a nod of his grizzled head. “Your people hear you. We wake from sleep to serve you.”

“Kundar,” Sarah said breathlessly. “We need to know
about the Eye of Time. We think it’s underground, in the caverns. Do you know it? Can you take us there?”

“Long, long ago,” he replied, “before even the Kinsfolk walked the earth, Time looked at man and ate him up. The Eye of Time is everywhere. It never sleeps.”

“But that doesn’t help us—how can we actually find it? Is it near? Is it in the earth?”

Kundar’s face wrinkled as though he were smiling at a child’s question. “All things have roots in the earth. But there is an ancient amulet, older than Kundar. It watches all ways, and is hidden deep, but the Kinsfolk know every secret path in the underground realm. We will take our queen there. We will take you now.”

“No, not yet, Kundar,” Sarah said. “At the next new moon.” She glanced quickly at the sky, where the moon was still a slim crescent, barely a week old. “About three weeks from now.”

“Then come when the moon begins again, thin and faint in the dark sky,” Kundar replied. “Come to the caverns, you and your friends. We will take you deeper into the earth than you have ever been. But do not let the Eye see you. He will eat you up. He looks all ways. Farewell, earth queen. We meet at the new moon.” His face faded, and the silver disk on the water sank from sight.

“So now I know,” I murmured. “In three weeks’ time I’ll go to the caverns, to the Eye….”

“We’ll come with you,” said Sarah. “You’re not going on your own.”

“And Cal and Josh will want to be there,” said Evie firmly. “We can’t leave them behind now.”

I wished I could do it all by myself, but I shrugged in agreement, rather than have an argument. “It’s such a long time to wait, though.” I sighed. “I wish it could be tomorrow. I want to get this done, get it over.” I was in a whirlwind of impatience to move on.

“And…what about Velvet? Shall we let her come too?” Sarah asked. “She still desperately wants to join us.”

“But you heard what Agnes said!” Evie replied. “Velvet’s not ready. She’s a danger to others and herself. We can’t possibly take her with us, don’t you agree, Helen?”

They both looked at me, waiting for me to speak. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” I said slowly. “I think Evie’s right.”

And so it was decided. We would go to the caverns on the night of the new moon, with Josh and Cal, but Velvet would not be one of our company.

T
HE
W
ITNESS OF
S
ARAH
F
ITZALAN

V
elvet was furious.

“But why not?” she demanded as she was mucking out Jupiter’s stall the next day, and I was grooming Starlight.

“You know why not,” I replied firmly, though my heart sank at the idea of her creating a scene. “All the stuff that Agnes said.”

But Velvet’s dark eyes were mutinous. “Agnes also told me to learn to love. I could have loved Helen—all of you—like sisters. Like I loved Jasmine, whatever you might think. But no—I’m obviously not good enough for you and Evie and stupid Lady Agnes. Not good enough for crazy Helen Black.”

“Don’t ever call her that!”

Velvet mumbled an apology and picked up a brush and halfheartedly started to groom the dark flanks of her horse. “I didn’t really mean that. I just wanted this so much.”

“Perhaps you wanted it too much. Perhaps that’s what Agnes saw.”

“Whatever.” But a look of fear seemed to flash across her face at the sound of Agnes’s name. Then she turned on her brightest smile. “Well, I guess I’ve always got my original plan to fall back on.”

“What’s that?” I asked in alarm.

“Oh, we go back to how we were. Not friends, or sisters—enemies. And I do my best to stir up enough trouble to get expelled. I could burn the school down. That ought to do the trick.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Velvet,” I sighed. “And be careful. Dr. Franzen won’t put up with your nonsense.”

“Do you think I am frightened of him? I’m not frightened of anything.”

“Except what Agnes told you.”

She tried to cover up her fear with mockery. “Agnes! Ooh, Agnes!” She laughed. “You’re all so in awe of her. It’s pathetic! And she’s not even alive! She’s dead—she’s
probably just some kind of collective hallucination you’ve worked yourself up about, and tried to drag me into. Why have you all got to be ruled by the memory of some prissy Victorian bore, Evie’s great-granny or whatever she is? Well, I’m sick of your childish games. If I want to connect with the other side, I’ll do it in my own way. There are other powers, not just the ones you think you can control and dole out as a big favor to the rest of us mere mortals.”

“Velvet—”

She threw down the brush she’d been using and glared at me. “Tell Josh to finish this grooming. It’s what my dad pays for. And tell your friends I don’t care if I never speak to them again.” Velvet pushed past me and stumbled out of the stable yard, but there had been a catch in her voice and tears in her eyes, I was sure. She did care, that was the sad thing. Rebel—Touchstone—whatever she truly was, there was a part of Velvet Romaine that just wanted to be loved.

But during the autumn days that followed, Velvet went about trying her best to prove that she didn’t need anyone, especially not the three of us. She avoided me, as well as Evie and Helen, and hung out with her usual set of Camilla and Annabelle and Julia Symons, urging them to be as provocative and insolent as they dared to
be under Dr. Franzen’s watchful eye. Velvet was constantly getting into trouble and being given detention. During Miss Scratton’s reign as High Mistress, this had simply meant doing an hour of extra study in the library, and she had quietly dropped the rather pompous Wyldcliffe tradition of handing out red demerit cards for any small misdemeanor. Now that he was the Master, however, Dr. Franzen had delighted in re-establishing the custom, and Velvet seemed hell-bent on collecting as many scarlet demerits as she could: for answering back, failing to hand in work, being tardy, uncooperative, incorrectly dressed…the list was endless.

Velvet’s detentions were endless too, and she spent hours in isolation, writing out useless, boring tasks under the watchful eye of one of the mistresses, and sometimes the Master himself. Velvet must have had plenty of time to think over her behavior, but it didn’t make any difference. She even sang one of her dad’s hit songs at a rehearsal for the Memorial Concert, knowing it was full of profanities and expletives. That earned her a three-hour detention, but she honestly didn’t seem to care. It was different for Helen, though. Velvet’s example seemed to spur Helen on to make more effort with her studies. She seemed to dread getting a detention, and
slaved over her books until she was ready to drop with exhaustion.

“Why are you so worried about detention, Helen?” I asked one evening when we were both in the library and she was struggling with a Latin exercise. “It’s only sitting in that little turret room on the second floor for a bit. I mean, I know it wouldn’t be very pleasant—”

“I’d rather die,” she snapped, then turned away from me and went on with her work, hunched over her books.

I didn’t understand what Helen was going through in that waiting time, before the new moon rose again and our quest to free Laura began. I didn’t know how she was torn in so many directions. I realized she was brooding over something, though, and I wondered whether it was the Seal, the little golden brooch she had been given by her mother. It was certainly on my mind after Helen had chosen to offer it during Velvet’s Testing. Had Helen used it? Did she know any more about it since she had been given it the term before? Anything Celia Hartle had given her daughter had to be either worthless or laden with danger; that much seemed pretty obvious to me. But there was more to it than that.

Helen had the sign of the Seal on her arm, in a strange tattoolike mark, and at the end of the previous term I had
seen that our Guardian’s arm was marked in the same way. I was the only one to have noticed this as Miss Scratton passed from us, and in the shock and grief of her departure I hadn’t mentioned it to the others. When we had trapped Celia Hartle’s spirit in the stone circle, it had seemed for a moment that we had reached a pause, a place of rest where further questionings could wait, but now that the powers were moving once again I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. Helen had offered her mother’s brooch as a precious treasure in our ceremonies, and I was keen to know what it really was.

One afternoon when the three of us were sitting in the library, supposedly preparing French compositions for class, I noticed that by good luck we were alone in the hushed, high-ceilinged room. For once, we could talk in school without being overheard.

“I was just wondering—” I began tentatively. Helen was wearing her blank, closed-up expression, but I plowed on anyway. “When we all made offerings in the caverns, you used your mother’s brooch—the Seal. Have you tried to do anything else with it?”

“Like what?” she answered reluctantly.

“I don’t know, call it, awaken its powers. Cal and I were talking about it in the stables last night, and he thinks
it must be something powerful, like the Talisman, or an amulet. The Romany people use amulets to ward off evil.”

Helen hunched her shoulders and scribbled some notes, not looking up. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe the Seal does conceal unknown powers. But it won’t show them just because I want it to. It’s not a toy to play with or a gadget to experiment with. You have to wait for the right moment.”

It was obvious that Helen didn’t really want to talk, but I persisted. She had been so strange in the last few days, even more secretive than before. I was worried about her. “Do you know why your mother had this thing in the first place? Where did she get it from?”

Helen’s expression changed, and she looked faintly flustered. “I don’t know. How should I know? You were there when Miss Scratton said that she’d been at the children’s home when I was a baby. My mother had left the brooch with my clothes and stuff at the orphanage, and Miss Scratton took it and kept it for me. I don’t know any more than that.”

“But why did Miss Scratton just happen to turn up at the orphanage when you were a baby?” I asked. “Why was she guarding you then?”

Helen swallowed nervously. “I don’t know, honestly. But the Guardians—don’t they protect all innocent life
that’s in danger? I was young and abandoned; perhaps that was enough.”

“Or perhaps Miss Scratton knew something,” Evie suggested. “Perhaps she knew you would be connected with the Mystic Way one day.”

“Yes—that you were destined to need her help,” I added.

“Then why didn’t she take me out of that dump if she wanted so much to help me?” Helen answered with a touch of bitterness. “That might have made more sense than fussing over a brooch.”

“But you just said yourself it could hold unknown powers,” I said. “This brooch of yours, the Seal or whatever it is, might be terribly important. Can we take another look at it?”

Again, Helen seemed reluctant, but she reached under her sweater and unfastened the brooch from her shirt and placed it on the polished library table. Its circular edge gleamed golden, and the two arching shapes that lay across it—I could never decide whether were they wings or daggers—seemed to hold some secret significance.

“I’ve seen this before,” I said in a low voice. “I saw this sign on Miss Scratton’s arm, the night she was attacked by Rowena Dalrymple.”

Helen jerked her head up. “Miss Scratton? I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. She was connected with this somehow.”

Evie looked at me in surprise too. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t know—not the right time. But it seems important now. What do you think, Helen?”

Helen stared at it and whispered slowly, “The person who accepts this Seal will never marry, or have children, or grow old, or truly die.” She looked up at us with huge frightened eyes. “Does that mean that they will never truly live either?”

“Helen—”

“Miss Scratton isn’t dead,” she went on, her voice so low that I had to strain to hear. “The mortal body she wore like a garment was destroyed, that’s all. That’s what I believe, at least. Agnes died and is at rest. At times, because of the connection of our sisterhood, an echo of her memory is permitted to pass through the window between the worlds and speak to us, but Agnes herself can never live again. Her time here is finished. It’s different for Miss Scratton. She said something to me, the night she passed…and I think that a Guardian can be given a new body, like a host for her spirit. She is reborn into the
world and her work goes on, for all eternity until the Eye of Time turns inward and is no more.”

“What makes you so sure?” Evie asked.

Helen shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about everything for so long…wondering…You’re not the only ones to want to know about the Seal.” She looked up as though seeing into the future. “I am marked with it. And I don’t know if I want to be.” Then she suddenly took my hand and clasped it in hers. “Sarah, you don’t know what your goodness means to me. But when you talk about me being amazing or incredible, do you never stop to think that what I might really want is to be ordinary? As ordinary—and miraculous—as daylight.”

“I’m sorry, Helen, but ordinary is one thing you’ll never be,” I answered. “Miraculous maybe, but not ordinary.”

She let go of my hand. “I hope you’re wrong.” Her voice sounded achingly sad.

“But let’s be logical about this,” said Evie, after a pause. “If Miss Scratton had the same mark as Helen, and the brooch came from Helen’s mother, then there’s a connection between the three of you, isn’t there?”

“No! That’s impossible! Just leave it!” Helen took back her brooch, got up, and walked away, leaving her books behind, and leaving us to ponder her words in silence.

It was clear that Helen was nervy and on edge, as we waited impatiently for the old moon to wane and the new moon to rise. But despite her anxiety about the Seal, despite her restlessness to fulfill what we had promised for Laura, and her growing dread of Dr. Franzen, Helen was in fact experiencing something new and profound. Something she had never even dared to hope for, except in her dreams.

We didn’t know it then, but those few weeks of waiting were to prove to be the happiest times of Helen Black’s short life.