Night Shade (12 page)

Knowledge empowers me. Rather than being subsumed by panic, it drains away. I wish I could act as rationally in the real world, I think, as I paste on a smile and play the game.

‘I’m glad you recognise how unfair this situation is. I’m a stranger here and instead of being welcomed, I’m brutally attacked. It’s about time I met someone friendly,’ I lie. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he gushes. ‘I should have introduced myself. I’m the Mayor. I’m in charge of this little town and its environs.’

Mayor. Interesting how no one apart from Dante has mentioned his existence. It’s got to be either because they don’t respect him enough to spare him a thought – or they’re too scared of him to make him a topic of conversation. ‘You’re the man in charge! Fantastic! Do you lead the Department?’

There’s the tiniest flicker in his eyes. ‘I do,’ he says smoothly. ‘You’ve heard of us?’

‘Of course. Ashley was telling me how you have everyone’s best interests at heart.’ Amongst other things. He puffs out his chest with pride so I take a gamble and push the boundaries. ‘Dante mentioned you too.’

The pride vanishes. ‘You shouldn’t talk to him. He’s a criminal.’

‘Really?’ I widen my eyes. ‘What’s he done?’

‘He’s threatening the security of everything the Dreamlands stands for.’ His face darkens and I decide I shouldn’t have judged Dante so quickly. If the Mayor hates him, then he’s probably not as bad as I thought. Whatever reason Dante had for leaving the Mayor’s employ, there’s more to it than either of them is letting on.

The Mayor smiles at me again, even more brightly. ‘Let’s forget about him and tell me more about you.’

‘Me? I’m very uninteresting. Just a small-town girl who’s taken aback by this place. It’s really quite unbelievable.’

‘Mmm, it’s quite something,’ he agrees. ‘Which small town are you from?’

‘Oh, you won’t have heard of it.’

‘Try me.’

Not a chance. I smile. ‘It’s where I thought dreams went to die. Instead, I’ve discovered it’s quite the opposite. How many people – Travellers – are here?’

His cheek twitches. ‘Here? Just over thirty thousand. Most Travellers seem to have inherited the talent. We often get whole families. What’s your family name? Perhaps you have some distant relatives here.’

‘That would be amazing! The thing is, I’m adopted. I have no idea who my biological family are.’ Sorry Mum, I add silently. Needs must.

‘I see.’ He knits his hands together. I glance at the blue veins on his skin and realise he’s even older than I thought. ‘And your adoptive family are...’

‘Simply wonderful people. Just wonderful. They’d probably think I was crazy if I told them about all this.’ I laugh. The Mayor chuckles back, a forced laugh.

I’m going to have to give him something though. If this conversation goes any further, it will be obvious that I’m avoiding giving away any personal information. If I’m going to find out what’s happening here, I need to be above suspicion.

‘My ex-boyfriend, Adam McDonald, would finally feel vindicated.’ I give an innocent giggle. That’s Adam’s real surname but he’s no longer my boyfriend, and I know from watching him Google himself that it’s a common name in Scotland. There’s little danger that the Mayor will be able to trace my real self through that titbit.

‘I can’t imagine why anyone would think someone as lovely as you is crazy,’ the Mayor tells me. ‘Adam McDonald, you say?’

I nod.

‘I’ll find him for you and tell him he’s missing out.’

‘Oh, I think I’m well shot of him,’ I say. My ploy seems to be working. ‘He never hit me over the head and knocked me unconscious though.’

The Mayor winces dramatically. ‘Let me apologise again for that.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I respond airily. Suddenly I hear angry shouting from down the corridor. I freeze, only relaxing when Bron bursts through the door.

‘What the hell’s going on here?’ he shouts angrily. ‘Why have you taken Zoe?’ he rushes over and envelops me in a hug.

The body contact is unexpected and I extricate carefully. ‘I’m fine, Bron.’ I give the Mayor a quick look. ‘It was all just a misunderstanding.’

‘I’ll say,’ he growls, his eyes spitting fire. His outrage appears genuine. ‘Come on. We’re leaving.’ He tucks my arm under his and drags me away. I shrug helplessly at the Mayor.

‘Some other time perhaps, Zoe,’ he murmurs.

I nod ruefully and let myself be led away. It’s probably a good thing; I need to create a better cover story before I meet the Mayor again. I don’t believe for one second that those goons acted independently of his orders. Something’s going on here and I’m going to find out what.

The corridor is empty. Whoever was lurking there has vanished. Bron sniffs as he marches along, muttering away; whether it’s to me or to himself, I’m not entirely sure. ‘Utterly ridiculous. How does he think he can get away with this? Abducting you in broad daylight!’

‘He says it was a mistake,’ I say mildly. What I really want to do is to start screaming at him to find out why I’m such a threat but I still don’t know who I can trust. I’ll have to rely on myself for now.

‘The man’s a fool.’

‘Is he really the Mayor?’

‘He’s in charge of the Department. The title is one he’s given himself. Ridiculous.’ He grimaces again.

We go up a flight of stairs and along another dull hallway. This building is an anomaly considering how fantastical the rest of the Dreamlands are. I think I know where it is and when we stumble outside and I turn round, I’m pleased to see I’m right. It’s the ugly building that I saw Bron sneak into earlier. The plot thickens.

I pull away from him and prod my head gently. There’s definitely a bump there but the queasiness has gone. Thank goodness for small mercies.

‘Are you hurt?’ Bron asks anxiously.

I smile reassuringly. ‘I’m fine.’ His worried frown doesn’t disappear so I change the subject. ‘The way the sunlight here bounces off your hair is extraordinary.’ I reach up and tousle it slightly. Bron looks taken aback. ‘It’s like spun gold.’

He coughs. ‘All natural, I assure you.’ He grins then, pointing over at the birdman statue and the multicoloured fountain below. ‘Have you seen our town hero yet?’

‘Actually, yes,’ I admit. ‘I’d been hoping to ask someone about it.’ We walk over and gaze up at the stern stone visage. ‘What makes him the town hero?’ I ask, hoping I sound casual enough.

‘Years and years ago, well before my time, there was trouble with the Badlands. That’s where all the nightmares of the world spring from.’

I frown. ‘Not the mares?’

He looks at me in surprise. ‘The mares originate from there. We don’t know why they left and it’s true that they do cause some nightmares but nothing like those that come from the Badlands offer.’ There’s an odd note of fear in his voice. ‘Anyway, the fringes of the Badlands began to encroach on the town boundaries and they say that all manner of monsters were let loose. There were,’ he pauses, ‘quite a few casualties.’

I can’t repress a shudder. ‘That’s awful.’

Bron nods. ‘Anyway, good old moustache man here, Albert Hall, found a way to beat them back.’

‘Albert Hall?’ I start to snigger.

‘I know.’ Bron grins again.

‘Did he really have wings?’

‘I think they’re the artist’s interpretation.’ He shrugs. ‘You can never really be sure with this place though.’ His smile softens and he takes my hand, smoothing the skin. ‘I’m really sorry the Mayor did that to you.’

‘Thanks,’ I say quietly.

A shadow passes overhead, drawing my attention away from Bron and up to the sky. The sun, which never seems to do anything other than shine over the town, is obscured. There’s a crack of thunder so loud I jump half out of my skin and squeeze Bron’s hand so tightly that he winces.

‘Something’s going to change,’ he whispers in sudden awe.

‘Change?’ My eyes widen. ‘Ashley said that sometimes subtle differences took place.’

‘And when they happen, there’s always–’ He’s interrupted by a streak of lightning. ‘Lightning,’ he finishes.

I glance around. The Mayor himself exits from the building behind, his face as thunderous as the sky. ‘What changed?’ I ask, realising that I’m as excited by this new development as everyone else.

Bron’s face is white. He’s staring at Albert Hall’s statue in shock. I follow his gaze then take a step backwards. Whoever Albert Hall really was, he’s no longer the focal point of the Dreamlands square. He’s been replaced by another man, slightly older but far more familiar. I gasp. I’d know that face anywhere.

It’s the same man who died in my hallway last week.

***

R
ight after breakfast, I call Sergeant Rawlins. She seems exasperated to hear from me and makes a sarky remark about whether I’m going to ask her more about her belongings. She doesn’t seem to have made any progress in identifying the old man. There’s a growing ball of frustration in my stomach. I’m still, however, on a quest for answers so I move on to my mother. I know there’s more that she’s not telling me.

‘I need you to come round,’ I tell her, without preamble.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I just need to speak to you.’ It’s unfair of me to not allay her fears immediately, but I need her to visit.

‘Give me fifteen minutes,’ she promises.

When she finally arrives, I’m ready and waiting. I unbolt the door, ignore her anxious expression and usher her inside.

‘Tell me about the dreams I had when I was a child.’

She’s obviously confused. ‘What? That’s what this is about? Zoe, I thought something was wrong! I rushed over and...’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, although I’m not really, ‘but I think it might be important. You avoided talking about them before...’ I hold up a palm to forestall her protests, ‘...you know you did. Please, Mum, just tell me the truth.’

She sighs and sits down heavily on the sofa. ‘You have to understand, Zoe, it was a terrible time for us. Your dad and I were divorcing, every night you were screaming the house down ... the bloody neighbours complained constantly...’ Her voice trails away and her eyes take on the distant, unfocused look of someone lost in memory.

I gently prod her out of her reverie. ‘When did they start?’

‘Bonfire Night. When you were four.’

‘That’s very specific,’ I say, slightly taken aback.

She shrugs. ‘We’d been down to the park to watch the fireworks. Your dad told me not to take you. He’d said you’d be too scared.’ She looks at me pointedly. ‘You were always such a nervous child. Anyway, I thought the noise might have scared you and that’s why you had a nightmare. Several nightmares, in fact.’

‘About this birdman?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, that came later. You were crying about the dark. It was too dark and the horsey scared you.’

‘Horsey?’

‘Your word, not mine.’

I swallow hard. ‘Did I describe the horse?’

Her mouth tightens. ‘You drew some pictures. They weren’t pretty. Your teacher at school called me because she was concerned, wanted me to stop you from riding.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘As if I could have afforded riding lessons back then! Of course, that was nothing compared to what she said when you...’

‘When I what?’

‘When you told her that if she wanted to stop being punched by her husband, she had to leave him. That it made her beautiful white dress with the silver bow all messy when it was covered in blood.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘We all knew it was happening. She tried to cover the bruises with make-up but you never can, not really. But back in those days you didn’t get involved. I think a few well-meaning parents told her to contact the police but nothing ever came of it. You must have overheard some playground gossip, that’s all.’

‘What was the dress about?’

‘She said her wedding dress had been white, white and with a silver bow. I think that freaked her out more than you knowing she was getting beaten up.’

‘How could I have known?’ I ask quietly.

‘I don’t know, darling. Children just pick up these things.’ Her tone is dismissive but she doesn’t meet my eyes.

‘What else was there?’

‘Do we have to do this now? I was going to meet Henry later.’

‘It’s important.’

‘I don’t see how,’ she mutters. She sighs. ‘There was the thing with your father.’

‘Go on.’

‘He started seeing his secretary.’ Her lip curls. ‘A blonde thing with stiletto heels and too much lipstick.’ Even though it happened more than twenty years ago and after they’d split up, it’s obvious my mother still feels bitter pain about it. ‘You were the one who knew. He denied it, of course, but you kept going on about the woman with pointy shoes who was kissing him...’ She picks at her nail varnish. ‘The idea that he’d let his own daughter see that. It’s disgusting.’

My stomach tightens. Maybe he didn’t let me see it. And maybe there was really nothing going on. It might have been one of his dreams. ‘What about the birdman?’

‘He featured most often. He didn’t seem to do anything but you were very scared of him. There wasn’t anyone like that living near us.’ She laughs. ‘Not anyone with wings anyway. I was worried if it was someone else ... some man...’

I change the subject. ‘It might just have been someone from the television.’

‘Yes.’ She sounds about as convinced as I am.

I take a deep breath. ‘Why did it stop? You said I was five?’

She sighs. ‘It went on for months and I was at my wits’ end. Other children wouldn’t play with you any more but they couldn’t explain why. Your teacher jumped whenever you came into the room. It was an awful time. Then Mr Salib showed up and worked miracles.’

I scan her face. ‘Mr Salib?’

‘He was a lovely gentleman from Malta. Not that you’d know it – he sounded as broad as any Glaswegian you’d meet in the street. He’d heard about your predicament from the school and offered to help.’

Something didn’t sound right. ‘How would he hear about me from school? What about confidentiality?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, darling. Does it matter?’

It might. I’m wary of upsetting her though. I need to hear the full story. ‘What did he do to stop the dreams?’

She cups my face in her hands and lightly presses both her index fingers on my temples. I’m confused. ‘What on earth are you doing?’ I ask, pulling away.