Free Eternal by Gillian Shields

time,” Miss Scratton replied. “There is a time for al things.
    They cannot be forced.” She looked at me and gave me a tired smile. “Dear Sarah, you are always eager to do the right thing. But sometimes we have to wait until the right path is revealed to us. Patience is a neglected virtue.”
    “But what about this?” Helen pul ed up her sleeve and showed Miss Scratton the livid mark on her arm. “I can’t just wait to find out about this. Sarah told me what the Book said. People thought marks like this were evil. An omen of death.”
    The High Mistress seemed to suppress an exclamation, but she merely said, “Cover it up and show no one else.
    Some force is reaching out for you.”

    “Is it—my mother?”
    “Celia Hartle’s spirit has not left this val ey,” Miss Scratton answered gravely. “The remnants of the coven have been gathering, and rumors of her new and deadlier powers are being spread by her faithful favorites.”
    For many months Miss Scratton had masqueraded as a member of the coven in order to track their plans. I hoped fervently that they had no suspicion that she was in fact acting against them and helping us.
    “But the coven is finished, isn’t it?” said Evie. “Their dreams of immortality died along with Mrs. Hartle.”
    “Sadly, there is no limit on evil. It is like foul water that wil mold itself to any new shape that it finds. The hatred of evil for innocence is eternal and unchanging. The Dark Sisters are fewer than they were, as any waverers were frightened off by Mrs. Hartle’s apparent death. But she is not truly dead, Evie. She has rejected that great mystery with al her twisted force. And those of her fol owers who remain—and even I do not know al their identities—are unyielding in their loyalty.”
    “Do they stil think you are one of them?” I asked.
    “They do not trust me entirely, and my plans for the school have horrified the members of the coven who work here. Secrecy and rigid rules suited their purposes. I have had to convince them that in opening up the doors of Wyldcliffe we wil deflect some of the talk and suspicion that had begun to hover over the school like clouds.
    Already some parents have withdrawn their daughters this term, and more wil go if the school does not change.” She sighed. “In other circumstances, I could have wished to stay here. To be the High Mistress, guiding so many young hearts and minds, would be a worthwhile task.” She fel silent, as if brooding on a deep, insoluble problem, then spoke again. “In the meantime, the Dark Sisters have one aim, and that is to serve Celia Hartle’s corrupted spirit.
    And in turn she has one simple aim—revenge. She hates you for depriving her of Sebastian’s strength and powers and soul. Sadly, I fear she hates Helen most of al .”
    “I hate her too,” Helen said in a whisper. “Was it her stopping me passing through the air? It is the only freedom I’ve had al these years—I won’t let her take that from me. I won’t!”
    Miss Scratton glanced at Helen with cool pity.
    “Remember that forgiveness is stronger than hatred, Helen. It could wel have been her. But there are other hidden forces at work in Wyldcliffe. As I told you before, deep in the tangle of caves and tunnels under the hil s there is a crack, a fractured time shift between this world and the shadows and the unseen lands of the past. You have reached out to mysteries, and this makes you vulnerable to many influences, both good and bad.
    However, for the moment, I think we can assume that if Celia Hartle is roaming the edges of this world once again, the daughter who dared to defy her wil be uppermost in her thoughts. I am sorry, Helen. This is a great burden to you. I wish I could do more.”

    “But there must be something we can do!” I said. “Isn’t there any way of protecting Helen from her?”
    Miss Scratton lowered her voice. “I have already told you too much in revealing that I am a Guardian and in