Dark Company (14 page)

The anguish in his voice was heartbreaking. Caddy understood his pain all too well. “My mother … Hex told me Company men killed her to get to my father. When that didn’t work, they killed him … at least, she thinks they did.”

“They killed my mother and father too,” Poe said.

His admission struck her like a fist. They’d hardly exchanged a word all those years in school, and now here they were, laying their souls bare to each other in the middle of nowhere. It made her feel closer to him, knowing he understood what she’d gone through. It made her reconsider if Hex had been telling the truth after all. Maybe her father
was
killed by Company men. What had her vision meant, then? Why had she seen him sitting on a bed in a hotel with a gun in his hand? Hex had said she suspected he might still be alive. Maybe he was. Maybe he’d missed when he pulled the trigger. This gave her the smallest feeling of hope. She vowed not to give up on her father. She vowed to uncover the absolute truth. As for Hex, she would remain cautious. She had no reason to trust her. Especially after their exchange in the barn. That part she’d keep to herself for now.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” she said.

“My father knew the dangers.”

“Did he try to hide the dreaming from you?”

“No. He prepared me from the time I was a child. He couldn’t keep secrets from me.”

For some reason she envied this. Her father had taught her to do things for herself, to solve problems, to be observant, aware, to question everything, to know things. He was adamant about it, pointing out trees and plants and animals anywhere he could, telling her the names. Showing her how to gather seeds, how to grow them. Teaching her how things worked—old knowledge.
Every game was an opportunity to learn, even hide-and-seek. He’d scold her if she was found too easily. He never spoke openly of the dreaming or its purpose. He never talked about Company men and the dangers waiting for her out in the world.

“My father told me nothing.”

“Maybe he thought you’d come to it on your own,” Poe said. “Maybe he was waiting for you to figure out what you are.”

“And what am I?” she asked.

“You’re a Dreamer, Cadence. A very special one. I knew it from the first minute I saw you.”

The blood rushed to her face. Was that the reason why he was always looking at her in class? How could she have been so stupid, so self-absorbed? The whole time in school she’d thought that he liked her. And she’d allowed herself to like him too—more than she cared to admit. He wasn’t interested in her that way. He’d just been waiting for her to figure out that she was a Dreamer—like her father.

Talking to Poe, it was clear now that her father had tried to help her understand her visions—or simply deal with them. Her mother too. They were both so patient. She should have figured it out long ago. The visions weren’t about her. They were so much bigger than that. Poe must think her a snivelling child. Well, it was time for her to grow up and face the truth. She pulled her necklace from under her shirt and held up the green stone.

“It’s a piece of fluorite—for psychic protection. My father gave it to me.”

“So did mine.” Poe produced an identical necklace from inside his shirt.

Caddy stared at it in wonder. It was too fantastic a connection to be a coincidence. “Do you really think we can change things by dreaming?”

“Yes, if we work together.”

Caddy tucked her necklace back under her shirt. “It seems
so futile. The Company men are murderers. How can dreaming stop them?”

“It’s the energy we’re trying to change. The murders, the intimidation, they shift the energy on the planet toward negativity, toward the Dark. It fills the world with fear and despair. It allows the Dark to take over and control our thoughts. If they control our thoughts, they control everything. We can counter that by dreaming the Light together, by pushing against the Dark as a unified force with our visions of hope for the future, like a million candles lighting the way. Our dreams have power, Cadence, but only when the many dream as one.”

He made it sound so easy. What good were ephemeral dreams of the future—even unified ones—against the reality of murder and torture?

“Hex’s eye …” she said.

Poe picked up a pebble and rolled it between his fingers. “The Company took it. The left eye is the conduit to our dreams. By taking her eye they stole her ability to connect to the collective, to dream.”

The idea of it made Caddy sick. “Why didn’t they just kill her?”

“It was a warning. They mutilated her, took the dreaming away, but let her keep her right eye so she can witness the end of days. She was one of our strongest links. They thought they could break us all if they got to her.”

“She’s so young …” Caddy lowered her head. “I can’t even imagine …”

“We’re stronger because of it,” Poe said. “When they broke Hex’s link they lost the ability to trace her. It was a tactical error. We’re safer as a result.”

“Did you know her before? When she could still dream?”

Poe pushed the pebble into the earth. “No. She came to us after. She helped us organize. We had no real leadership before her. The Dreamers have always gathered in small groups and
worked in secret to avoid detection. But the Company has grown too powerful. The men have depleted our numbers. Fractured us. Filled our hearts with fear. We heard stories of a woman—the daughter of a Dreamer—who’d started organizing, started gathering the Dreamers together. She’d discovered that the children of Dreamers could substitute for their parents. We heard she’d been tortured by the Company. That they’d taken her eye. This didn’t stop her. When she found us, we were scared and nearly broken. She gave us hope again.”

Caddy looked at the scabs on her hands. Her pain was nothing compared to Hex’s. “If something like that happened to me … I’m not sure I could be so strong.”

“You’d be surprised,” he said.

She shook her head. “I’m not like you.”

“We’re not so different, Cadence. I’ve just had more time to adapt. My father prepared me for the worst from the beginning. He wanted me to know the truth. The Company men—they pick up on our emotions. They use them against us, to track us down. They’ve been doing it for centuries.”

He was being so kind. She didn’t deserve it, really, not after the way she’d judged him. Still, she welcomed his patience. “Who are they?” She wanted to hear his version, to see how it compared to Hex’s.

Poe thought for a moment before he spoke. “They’re an organization dedicated to the destruction of the Light. Some say they’re connected to the one they worship, that they’re lower forms of demonic energy made manifest on earth. Others say they’re just people, willing to give everything for the cause they believe in.”

“Even at the expense of their own lives?”

“They consider it an honour to die for their master.”

“I’m not that dedicated,” Caddy said. “I don’t think I can do what Hex needs me to do.”

Poe looked at her with alarming resolve. “We have to, Cadence.
Everything depends on us. But we’re not alone. We have each other.” He came to her, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a bandage on his arm. “I want to show you something.”

He pulled the bandage back. There was a raised mark the size of a silver dollar on the underside of his forearm—a tattoo of some kind—in the shape of a mandala. It was raw and red. Newly acquired. The ink was unusual. Not black, like a regular tattoo, but iridescent, like a pearl. She’d seen one like it, though more faded. She’d thought it was a scar or a burn of some kind that her father was trying to hide. When as a child she’d asked him about it, he’d refused to explain it. Now she understood why he wore long sleeves all the time.

“This is how we recognize each other,” Poe said. “The mark is only carried by Dreamers. It can’t be forged. The secret of the mark is deeply protected. If someone tells you they’re a Dreamer, make them show the mark as proof. If they can’t …” He gave her a foreboding look.

She traced the mark lightly with her finger. It felt electric to the touch. “My father has one.”

“Yes,” Poe said. “And you’ll have one too … if you decide to stay.”

“I didn’t know I had a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. I was uncertain at first too. Now there’s real hope that we can win against the Dark.” He moved closer. He had a strange light in his eyes. “Hex told us you were coming, Cadence. I got the mark because of you.”

Caddy stepped back in shock. How could he make such a claim? Who was she to inspire that kind of commitment? She was just a person, a nobody. She couldn’t give hope to anyone. She had no hope of her own. Hex had no right to put this on her. What kind of game was she playing? The last thing Caddy wanted was the responsibility of someone else’s expectation and trust, especially Poe’s.

She was about to tell him as much when they heard a branch snap. In the shadows of the trees, something was moving.

S
kylark and Sebastian took to the streets. The city was as busy as ever with beings going here and there. What were they all doing? Skylark wondered. Nothing fun, that was for sure. Nothing even remotely interesting or human. Everyone was so serious all the time. And if you’ve seen one shiny crystal gold-domed building, she thought, you’ve seen them all.

What she really wanted was to flip through
The Book of Events
again. But she’d be hard pressed to convince Sebastian that staring at images of her human boyfriend was a good idea. She was actually formulating a plan to ditch the mouse and come back out on her own when she heard laughter. Not just one voice—many voices—all laughing at some great joke. It sent a spontaneous wave of euphoria through her body.

“Who do you think that is, Sebbie?”

The mouse sighed. “I don’t know. But I’m sure we’re about to find out.”

Skylark glided toward the sound. “Listen,” she said as they drew closer. “Is that music?”

“There’s always music in the city,” the mouse quipped.

“Not like this, Sebbie. I hear dance music!”

The mouse gripped her hair and held on as Skylark sped toward the sound. Rounding a corner, she sailed head first into a group of beings hanging around in front of a red-brick building. These beings were different. They weren’t wearing robes. They were wearing real clothes. And they weren’t tall like the Spectrals. They were various heights—like real people. Skylark couldn’t help staring.

The group fell quiet when they saw her, stepping respectfully aside. She nodded politely, making sure to keep her lips clenched for fear of being condemned as a mouth-talker. She could feel their eyes watching her as she passed. Cruising as casually as possible, Skylark moved to the back of the building to check things out. When she was sure no one was watching, she looked through the window.

“Look, Sebbie! There are hundreds of them!”

The place was filled with beings of every shape and size. They sat at tables and stood at a long bar, drinking and eating and laughing. In one part of the room, some were even dancing. What’s more, they were talking with their mouths! It was glorious!

“What is this place?” she asked, her nose pressed against the glass.

The mouse clucked his tongue with disapproval. “It’s a bar.”

“I want to go in.”

Sebastian tugged on her hair. “No. This place is for Guides. Your kind sticks to its own.”

“Why? They look friendly enough.”

“It’s just the way things are done.”

“I’m practically one of them,” she said. “Look at my shape—and my size. They’re stunty, like me. They won’t even notice my arm in there. I’ll keep it close to my body.” She demonstrated for him.

Sebastian twitched his nose. “They will know you are not one of them. They’re not the same Frequency as you. They’re not even on the same level. We shouldn’t be here.”

The mouse was determined to spoil everything, that was clear. Skylark pulled him from her shoulder and looked him in the face. “I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. I just want to go in and look around. Only for a minute. They’re having so much fun in there.”

“They’re not your kind, Skylark,” the mouse said. “Their place in the order is not the same as yours. The sooner you accept this, the happier you will be.”

The sound of her name caught her off guard. “You called me Skylark.”

“Yes, I did.”

She smiled. “I appreciate that.”

“I know it means a lot to you.”

“Yes, it does. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can we leave this place?”

Her shoulders dropped. “Yes. But I want one more peek.”

Skylark watched the Guides through the window until the mouse insisted they go. She turned from the bar unwillingly and glided away.

“Who are the Guides?” she asked as they moved through the streets.

“They work with people, to help them in their life’s journey.”

“I thought the Advisers did that.”

“Yes … but Advisers don’t manifest on the earth plane,” the mouse explained. “They simply offer options and provide guidance as to the best choices during the in-between time.”

“What’s the in-between time?”

“The time between earth lives.”