Guardian of the Gate (10 page)

I fly over the fields surrounding Birchwood, my feet nearly, but not quite, touching the ground. I am still grounded in the physical world and as such am far more vulnerable when flying the Plane. But the flying itself cannot be helped, for it is the swiftest way to travel. My surest guarantee of safety — though it is anything but sure — is to stay close to the ground, finish my business in the Otherworlds, and return to my own world with haste.

I follow the river past the house and toward the stables. The water rushes below, and it takes effort to avoid thinking of Henry. I have not seen him in the Otherworlds since his death, though I have not seen my parents there either since shortly before it. I have not attempted to contact them on the Plane. I know well the risk they face.

My mother and father have been running from the Souls since their respective deaths, refusing to cross into the Final World in case I should need their help. I can only hope that whichever world my parents occupy, it is one in which they are together with my brother.

There is a lake some distance past the stables, and it is here that I touch my feet to the wild grass surrounding the water. It has become more and more difficult to find locations near my childhood home that do not hold some horrifying memory, but this is still one place in which nothing bad has happened. Even on the Plane, I can feel the grass, green and springy, beneath my feet. It reminds me of the many times Alice and I stood barefoot in this very spot, taking turns throwing stones into the water to see who could throw them the farthest.

I gaze across the field in the direction of the house and am not surprised to see her coming. I learned long ago the power of thought on the Plane. One need only think of the person one wishes to see, and that person or being will feel the call.

Alice walks toward me from the direction of the stables, and I know even this small thing, the choice to walk rather
than fly, is no accident. It is Alice’s way of reminding me that here in the Otherworlds, I am on her territory. That with the protection of the Souls, she may move at leisure while I must hurry and hide.

I watch my sister approach, taking note of her figure, slighter now than when I left. She still walks with characteristic confidence, that lift of chin and straightening of the back that has always been my sister’s way of carrying herself, but when she stops in front of me, I am truly taken aback.

Her skin is as pale as the sheets that covered the furniture in the Dark Room after our mother’s death. I would think Alice sickly if not for the hum of tension in her body. I feel it speeding just under her skin, as real as if it were crackling under my own. Her cheekbones jut harshly from her face, an echo to the gauntness of her figure, once feminine and now so slender that her clothes hang loosely from her frame.

But it is her eyes that make my stomach twist with fear and loss. The vibrant glimmer that was always uniquely Alice has been replaced with an unnatural shine. It speaks of the ancient prophecy that has us in its grip and to the evil of the Souls and their hold on my sister. It tells me she is lost.

She looks at me carefully, as if by looking closely enough she might see the changes in me and my newfound power. After a few moments, she smiles, and it is this that turns the sadness in my heart into something I almost cannot bear, for it is the old Alice smile, the one she used to save just for me. The one in which I can glimpse the sorrow lurking beneath her
nearly manic charm. It is disturbing to see my sister’s shadow prowling beneath the lines of harsh cheekbones and hollow eyes.

I swallow hard and push away the memories. When I say her name, it feels foreign on my tongue. “Alice.”

“Hello, Lia.” Her voice is just as I remember. If not for the fact that we are standing in the Otherworlds, in a place few recognize as real and fewer still can occupy, I might think we are meeting for tea. “I felt you calling.”

I nod. “I wanted to see you.” It is the simple truth, though the reasons are far from simple.

She tips her head. “Why would you want to see me? I imagine you are quite busy at the moment.” There is patronizing humor in her voice, as if my trip to Altus is an imaginary adventure crafted by a child.

“As are you, from what I hear.”

Her eyes grow flinty with suppressed anger. “I suppose Aunt Virginia has been speaking of me, then?”

“Only giving me news of my sister. And even then, not telling me anything I cannot see for myself.” I wonder if she will deny crossing into the physical world so that I could see her prowling the halls of Milthorpe Manor, but she does not.

“Ah, you must be speaking of my visit a few nights ago.” She actually looks amused.

“Alice, the veil between the worlds is sacred. You are breaking the laws of the Plane, laws set by the Grigori. I have never doubted your power, your ability to see and do things
far beyond that which most Sisters can, but using the Plane to transport yourself to another place in the physical world is forbidden.”

She laughs, and the sound travels through the fields of the Otherworldly Plane. “Forbidden? Well, you know what they say: like mother like daughter.” The bitterness in her voice is palpable. I feel the heat of it on my face.

“Mother knew she wouldn’t be here to suffer the consequences of her actions.” It is harder now to speak of my mother. I know firsthand the horror of being enslaved by the prophecy, and it is difficult to blame her for escaping it, however horrifying her methods. “She did what she did only to protect her child, as any mother would. Surely you see the difference between her motivation and yours?”

Alice’s face hardens further. “Mother’s actions, whatever her motivation, were also a violation of the Grigori’s laws. She altered the course of the prophecy by casting the spell of protection around you. I can hardly congratulate her for violating an ancient law just before killing herself to avoid the consequences.”

It is not easy to keep my temper in hand, but talk of our mother will get us nowhere. There are more immediate things with which I must concern myself.

“Edmund tells me you have been seeing James.”

The smile, sinister and sly, creeps to the corners of her mouth. “Well, the Douglases
are
dear friends of the family. And James has always taken an interest in Father’s library, as you well know.”

“Don’t toy with me, Alice. Edmund says you have become friendly, that you spend time with James… invite him to tea.”

She shrugs. “What of it? James was saddened by your departure. Isn’t it only right to offer him friendship in the wake of his loss? Or is only one Milthorpe sister good enough for James Douglas?”

I have to swallow hard before answering. Even now, it is impossible to imagine James with anyone but me.

“Alice… You know well my feelings for James. Even in the prophecy, there are things… sacred things that must not be trifled with. Henry was one of those things.” I choke out the words feeling as if they cut my throat to pieces. “James is another. An innocent. He has done nothing to harm you — or to harm anyone. I would ask you as one sister to another to leave him alone.”

Her face grows impassive. It takes on a familiar stillness, and I remember a time when I could watch Alice for what seemed like hours and never see a flicker of emotion pass over her fine features. For one naive moment I believe she might consider my appeal. But just as quickly I see the anger darken her eyes. Worse than anger, worse than ambivalence, I see the pleasure she takes in holding the power to harm another.

I see it and know my request will have no effect. It will instead be taken as a challenge, a gauntlet Alice will not be able to ignore. I see it all in an instant and know I have done far more harm to James than if I had never spoken of
him at all. When Alice finally speaks, her words come as no surprise.

“I don’t think James is any of your concern, Lia. In fact, I think it is safe to say you gave up the right to comment on his life when you abandoned him and fled to London with hardly a word.”

I steady myself against her words, for she is right, of course. I did leave James, and I did so with no more than a letter, a passing mention of our love before boarding the train that would take me away from Birchwood.

Away from Birchwood and away from James.

And so there is nothing more to say. Alice will use any and all of her power to see that Samael can cross into our world, and she will do so with as little thought as she gives to making James a pawn in the game of the prophecy.

“Is that all, Lia?” Alice asks. “Because frankly, I’m growing tired of these conversations. Conversations in which you ask the same questions over and over again. Silly questions, really, with the simplest of answers: Because I want to. Because I can.” She smiles, and it so pure and so without guile that I believe for a moment that I may actually be going mad. “Is there anything else?”

“No.” I want it to sound strong, but it is just a whisper. “There is nothing else. You needn’t worry. I will not seek you again. Not for a purpose such as this. Not to ask a simple question. The next time I seek you it will be to finish this once and for all.”

She narrows her eyes, studying me closely, and this time there can be no mistake that it is she who attempts to take the measure of
my
power. “Just be certain you want to bring this to its conclusion,” she says. “Because when you do, when it’s all over for good, one of us will be dead.”

She turns and walks away without another word. I stare after her until she is but a speck in the distance.

When I awaken the next morning, it is so dark that I think it is still night. But when I look around the tent, I see that
Luisa is gone. Sonia is asleep, so I ease from beneath my blankets and make my way from the tent, trying to figure out the
time. It is the sky that tells me it is morning, for though it is a deep midnight overhead, the color gradually lightens,
becoming the palest of blues near the sunrise in the distance.

Even still, I know it must be very early. Edmund is awake, still at his post at the edge of camp. I approach him without trying
to be quiet. I shouldn’t like to have the shotgun pointed my way. I speak his name when I am still some distance away.

“Edmund?”

He turns his head without alarm. “It’s early yet. What are you doing up?”

I stop in front of him, lowering myself to a neighboring boulder so that we are eye to eye. “I don’t know. I woke up and saw
that Luisa wasn’t in the tent. Have you seen her?”

He shakes his head, genuine puzzlement in his eyes. “No. I haven’t heard a thing.”

I gaze out into the darkness of the forest. It is quite possible Luisa had personal needs that required attending. I say nothing
to Edmund for fear of embarrassing us both, though I am confounded by the idea that Luisa would go into the woods alone after
our discussion about Sonia doing the very same thing.

“Were there any problems last night?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Not really. I heard some rustling, but whatever it was didn’t sound large and didn’t sound fast. Probably
just the animals that make their home here.”

“What are our chances, really, of escaping the Hounds?”

He does not respond right away, and I know he will not give me the answer I want, but one true and based on thought and calculation.
“About fifty-fifty, I’d say, mostly because we’re in the woods, and we’re growing closer and closer to the sea. Smaller creeks
and streams are already becoming bigger rivers. Our chances of hitting a large body of water are getting better by the day.
There are only a couple of things that worry me.”

I push down my panic at the thought of crossing a deep and swiftly moving river. “Such as?”

“If Samael has sent the Hounds after us, there are other
things he could send along the way. The Hounds may not be our only
obstacle.”

I prod him to continue. “All right. You said ‘a couple of things.’ What is the other one?”

He stares down at the ground before meeting my eyes. “A large body of water would be a blessing and a curse. Anything big
enough to prevent the Hounds from crossing might well be big enough to keep us from crossing as well. But that is not really
the worst of it, if you know what I’m getting at.”

I nod. “If we find a river, we’ll have no choice but to try and cross it to lose the Hounds. But we might not know if it’s
even possible until we are halfway across.”

“That’s right.”

“It is not as if we have a choice, is it?” I continue without waiting for an answer. “We will just have to keep moving and
brave the water when the time comes. Time and fortune have been on our side so far. We have to hope it will continue to be
so.”

“I suppose you’re right.” But he does not sound too sure.

I stand up and brush myself off. “I still have not heard Luisa return, but I think I know where she may be. I will see if
I can find her. It’s not far at all.”

He nods. “I’ll start breakfast. We should leave soon.” I am already halfway to the tree line when his voice finds me. “Don’t
go too far. I’m fast, but if you run into trouble, it would be best if you were close.”

He doesn’t need to tell me. I know it is dangerous to leave his line of sight. I also know I could wait. Luisa will likely
return on her own at any moment. But the truth is that I am curious. Sonia’s fears over Luisa’s loyalty echo in my heart,
however much I wish to discount them. Luisa’s behavior of late
has
made me uneasy, and though I do not like to think of myself as spying, I feel a sense of responsibility to consider every
possible scenario.

Even one in which Luisa is used by the Souls to sabotage our mission.

It grows darker as I leave the campsite. Even the dying fire and the moonlight in the clearing offered some illumination,
but now I am surrounded on every side by trees. They rise far above my head, reaching toward the sky, dusky with the approaching
morning.

It is easy to find the small path Sonia and I sought immediately upon arrival the night before. For obvious reasons, it has
become habit to seek a private spot near every new site while Edmund makes camp. The path is surrounded by trees that provide
shelter for the necessities that arise while making a journey such as ours. It leads to a small stream, and I hear the water
rushing well before I arrive at its bank.