AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I fall deeper and am swallowed by the black cloak of dreamless sleep.
I do not know what time it is when I am startled awake by something. I listen for it, but there is nothing. The milk has left a thin coating on my tongue. It seems to grow in my mouth. Much as I wish I didn't, I have to go downstairs for a drink.
With a heavy sigh, I push back the blanket and light a candle, cupping the flame with my hand as I travel the darkened hall, which
seems a mile long. I'm the only soul who remains on this floor. The thought lends quickness to my steps.
When I'm near the stairs, the flame sputters and dies. No! I shall have to go back to light it. A sudden dizziness overtakes me. My knees buckle, and I manage to grip the top of the banister to steady myself. In the darkness, there's a faint, sharp scratching sound, like chalk pulled too hard across a slate.
I am no longer alone. There's someone here with me.
I barely manage a whisper."Hello? Brigid? Is that you?"
The scraping sound moves closer. In my hand, the candle flares to life, filling the hall with a tight sphere of light. There they are, shimmering about the edges. Not quite real, yet more solid than the vision I saw in the snow. Three girls, all in white. The pointed toes of their boots scrape against the wooden floor with the most awful sound as they float closer and closer. They move their mouths to speak. I cannot hear them. Their eyes are sad, and there are great dark circles beneath them. Don't scream, Gemma. It's only a vision. It can't hurt you. Can it?
They are so close I have to turn my head and close my eyes. I am near to vomiting with fright and the smell. What is it? The sea and something else. Decay.
There is that sound again, like the scratching of thousands of insect wings. They're speaking so softly it takes me a moment to make out the message, but when I do, it chills me to the bone.
"Help us."
I don't want to open my eyes, but I do. They are so close, these flickering bright things. One reaches out a hand. Please. Please don't touch me. I'm going to scream. I'm going to scream. I'm going to . . .
Her hand's like ice on my shoulder, but there is no time to scream because my body goes rigid as I'm pulled under. Images flood my mind. Three girls hop along craggy cliffs. The sea splashes up and over, leaving thin strands of foam across their feet. The clouds are darkening. A storm. A storm is coming. Wait, there's a fourth girl. She lags behind. Someone calls to them. A woman comes. She wears a green cloak.
The girls' syrupy voices slip into my ear."Look . . ."
The woman takes the hand of the fourth girl. And then comes the terror from the sea. The sky darkening. The girls screaming.
We're back in the incandescent hall. The girls fade, pulling back into the darkness. "She lies . . . ," the girls whisper. "Don't trust her. . . ."And then they are gone. The pain disappears. I'm on my knees on the cold, hard floor, alone. The candle hisses suddenly, spitting out a wayward spark.
That's all it takes. I'm up and scurrying, pell-mell, like a frightened mouse, and I don't stop running until I'm back in my room with the door shut tight--though what I think I'm shutting out, I cannot say. I put on all the lamps in the room. When the room is bright, I feel a bit better. What sort of vision was that? Why have they become so much stronger? Is it because the magic is loose? Does that somehow make it bolder? I felt her hand on my shoulder. . . .
Stop it, Gemma. Stop frightening yourself. Who are these girls and what do they want with me? What did they mean,"Don't trust her"? It doesn't help that the school is so empty, or that tomorrow I shall be in London with my family, and who knows what real horrors await me there.
I've no answers to any of it. And I'm afraid of sleep. By the time the first light presses its nose against my windowpanes, I am already dressed, my trunk is packed, and I am ready to see London if I have to drive the horses there myself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TOM IS LATE, AS USUAL.
I've arrived at Victoria Station on the twelve o'clock train from Spence as expected, but my brother is nowhere to be found. Perhaps he's been in a horrible accident and lies dying on the street, begging with his last breath that one of the crying bystanders rush to the train station to rescue his most innocent and virtuous sister. It is the only charitable explanation I can muster. Most probably, he is at his club, sharing laughs and cards with his friends, and has forgotten all about me.
"My dear, are you sure your brother is coming for you?" It is Beatrice, one of the seventy-year-old spinster sisters who sat beside me on the train, talking incessantly of rheumatism and the joys of cabbage roses till I thought I should go mad. Unlike my brother, they are concerned for my welfare.
"Oh, yes. Quite sure, thank you. Please don't worry on my account."
"Oh, dear, Millicent, I don't believe we can leave her here alone, do you?"
"No, quite right, Beatrice. She must come with us. We shall send word to her family."
That decides it. I am going to murder Tom.
"There he is!" I say, looking off into the distance, where my brother is not.
"Where?" the sisters ask.
"I see him just over there. I must have been looking in the wrong direction. It was lovely to meet you. I hope we shall meet again," I say, offering my hand and sending them on their way. I march off purposefully and hide behind the ticket booth. When all is clear, I take a seat on a bench far down the platform.
