Night Shade (14 page)

‘Well, I have to say,’ Dante drawls, ‘the Mayor has outdone himself this time.’

I spin round, eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just how long has he been keeping you hidden away? It must have been years.’ He glances down at the blood then back to me. ‘I guess he’s finally putting his big plan into action.’

‘Dante, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Right. You just happen to be the first dreamweaver we’ve had in over a century. You just happen to show up now, when mares are being abducted. You just happen to let me know about it by telling me about the traps. Nicely played. Unfortunately for you and the Mayor, it’s not enough. I’ve seen through you.’

‘I really don’t know what you mean,’ I say helplessly.

‘I knew you were too good to be true. Big blue eyes, cute freckles ... he really went to town. Well, you might have fooled me for a while, sweetheart, but the game’s up.’ His mouth twists. ‘You’d better tell the Mayor that he’s playing a dangerous game by involving the mares. They’re wild animals.’ His eyes darken even further. ‘I suppose that was part of the plan, was it? Pretend to tame one of them and use it to make me think I could trust you? Call it Pegasus so I’d think you’re some kind of goddess here to help?’

I’m stunned into silence. Dante takes a step towards me and I’m frozen, terrified by what he might do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so angry – and all his rage is directed at me. He balls up his fists and snarls then, before I can find my voice, he stares upwards at the black canopy of leaves and vanishes. I’m left alone, blood by my feet, silence all around me and a gnawing chasm deep inside me.

Angry tears fill my eyes and I grit my teeth. What a bastard. He gave me no chance to explain myself. He’s concocted some bizarre conspiracy theory because he’s Billy-no-mates. I know a lot of people in the real world think I’m weird and crazy but how dare he treat me like I’m a criminal? I should have shouted back at him, told him exactly what I think of him. I should have told him to fuck right off.

I straighten my shoulders. What I deal with in the real world is far worse than what Dante can do to me. I sniff loudly and spin round. I’m going to find that mare and show him I’m not the person he thinks I am. I’ll rub his face in the truth.

***

I
’ve lost a lot of time dealing with Dante’s bullshit so when I start after the mare and whoever’s taken her, I run. It’s not easy to keep to the trail at high speed but I’ve had a lifetime of focusing on small details so, other than a couple of false turns, it’s not impossible to stay on track. I’m confused, though, when I start passing the trees where I etched my little Zs. That can only mean the bastard who did this is heading towards the town.

I slow down. I can still see drops of blood that make me shiver and curse. I’m reminded of a school trip to a zoo where the unhappy polar bear paced up and down in a small enclosure. All I could think about was what had happened to make the poor bear end up in that situation? I know what it’s like to be caged and I can’t bear the thought of it happening to Pegasus or another mare.

I no longer make the distinction that the mares are not physically present in the real world. This place is now as real to me as anywhere else.

I reach the edge of the forest. This time I don’t stumble and fall when I pull out of the dark woods and into the sunshine and the town. I do, however, search frantically around for signs of someone dragging a mare with them. There’s nothing though. There are people, but none of them are doing anything out of the ordinary. I scan their faces but I can’t see anyone looking worried.

I’m about to turn round and head back into the forest in case I misinterpreted the tracks and they continue along the edge of the trees but then I notice faint scrapes on the cobbles at my feet. I crouch down to examine them more closely. They could have been made by a wagon or some sort of box; they’re far enough apart that a mare could comfortably fit between them. Thoughtfully, I stand up.

A shadow falls across my path.

‘Are you okay, Zoe?’ Bron inquires. ‘Have you just come out of the forest again?’

I meet his eyes. ‘Someone has captured a mare and brought her here.’

‘Captured a mare?’ He seems taken aback. ‘I don’t think–’

‘Are you saying you don’t believe me?’ I don’t need to deal with another Dante.

‘No, no. It’s just that I can’t think of anyone who would do that.’

‘Can’t you?’ I stare at him levelly.

He shrugs helplessly. ‘They’re wild animals. And vicious.’

‘They cause outliers to have nightmares. Is there someone here who wants ordinary people to have bad dreams?’

‘Why would someone do that?’

‘I don’t know, Bron. Of course, as far as the Dreamlands go there’s not much I do know.’ I point down at the marks. ‘I need to find out where these lead.’

He follows the direction of my finger. ‘Eh?’

‘The scrapes on the cobbles.’

Bron’s face clears. ‘Oh, I see them. You have good eyesight.’

I want to tell him that it’s nothing to do with eyesight and everything to do with paying attention but I merely grunt and start walking, keeping my gaze trained on the ground.

‘Wait, I know what these are from.’ Bron grins at me. ‘It’s nothing nefarious, it’s just the foragers. They collect bits and pieces from the forest that might be useful and take them to the Department.’

‘You mean the Mayor.’ My voice is flat.

‘I guess.’ He looks at me patiently. ‘It’s not a big deal, Zoe.’

I put my hands on my hips. ‘Would a mare be considered one those useful bits and pieces?’

‘They take leaves and plants and things like that. Test soil samples to make sure the Dreamlands stay constant. This place is important. People need their dreams.’

I turn away again and stride towards the Mayor’s ugly grey building. Bron catches my arm. ‘Where are you going?’ he asks, alarmed.

‘To see the Mayor, of course. I want to know what he’s doing with the mares,’ I say calmly.

‘Zoe, you can’t just–’

‘Watch me.’

I march down the street and across the square. I avoid looking at the statue although I’m aware there’s a group of people clustered round it, staring up at the dead old man’s visage.

Bron keeps up with me. ‘This really isn’t a good idea. You can’t just walk up to the Mayor and start making demands. It’s not how things work around here.’

‘You did. You bulldozed your way in after those men hit me on the head and dragged me in there.’

‘That was different.’

‘Why?’

‘Because...’ His tone is filled with frustration. ‘It just was.’

I take the steps two at a time, pushing open the front door and striding in. A stern-looking woman with a uniform that’s almost identical to the one Kevin was wearing at the Bubble stands in front of me.

She glowers. ‘You can’t come in here.’

‘Try and stop me.’

She raises her arm and I see she’s holding a baton. ‘I’ve already been smacked on the head with one of those,’ I tell her coolly. ‘It’s not going to happen again.’

Her arm moves higher, ready to strike. I glare at her, meeting her eyes and daring her to try it. It’s a move I’ve often seen the Chairman pull; he once made an Alsatian back away whining with the same stare. I hold my nerve, recognising the moment when she backs down. It’s only a faint flicker in her eyes but I know I’ve won. Clearly, the Department has its fair share of bullies; stand up to them and they’ll sidle away with their tails between their legs.

‘It’s alright, Officer Effrayant.’ It’s the Mayor.

I try not to smirk at the guard’s name.
Effrayant
is French for scary. Well, for once, I ain’t scared. I walk up to the Mayor, my shoulders back and my head held high. ‘You’ve captured a mare from the forest.’ It’s not a question.

‘That’s rather a wild accusation.’

‘Is it?’ I challenge.

He smiles at me benignly and pats my arm. ‘You’re confused. Concussion will do that sometimes. You should sit down and have a cup of tea – I can fetch you one if you like.’ He snaps his fingers and an older woman appears. Bizarrely, she’s wearing a traditional maid’s uniform; the Mayor must think he’s in Downton Abbey.

‘Telling someone to make me a cup of tea isn’t the same as fetching it yourself,’ I point out. ‘Where is the mare?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Really, you should calm down.’

Considering I’ve not raised my voice, I think I’m acting remarkably calmly. I lift my eyebrows. ‘Oh, I’m fine. I just want to find the mare and free her. You can’t attack one and drag her off. It’s not fair.’

‘I did no such thing.’ There’s a spark of amusement in his face. It’s patronising and makes me want to punch him.

‘Your goons did.’

‘My goons? I understand the Dreamlands are new to you but we’re not in the pages of a comic book.’

‘They would have been acting on your orders.’

‘No one has touched the mares. No one from the Department, anyway. Where on earth would we keep them?’ He’s lying through his teeth; I can tell from the faint tick above his right eyelid and because I only mentioned one mare. He used the plural. My stomach lurches. How many has he captured? ‘Perhaps it was that wastrel in the forest. Dante,’ he continues.

I can’t help rising to the bait. ‘You really don’t like him, do you? Is it because he’s one of the few people to see you for who you really are?’

He snarls at me. ‘He’s a traitor.’

I suddenly think of the reaction I’ve seen from others when Dante’s been mentioned. The Mayor has obviously made sure everyone hates him. No wonder he keeps to the forest.

I’m opening my mouth to tell the Mayor I’ve seen through his little ploy when he steps forward and takes hold of my shoulder, smoothing his features into a benign mask. ‘I think you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot. Come with me, I want to show you something.’

I batten down the urge to throw him off and spit in his direction. I know that to show him what I really think of him will be to make a powerful enemy. Maybe if I play along I’ll have a better chance of discovering where the mares are.

‘Where?’ I ask suspiciously.

He chortles and points to a door. ‘Not far, not far.’

I look from the door to his face and back again. Then I shrug. In for a penny, in for a pound. ‘Okay.’

‘You really don’t find it easy to trust people, do you? I’m not the big bad wolf.’

He was certainly doing enough predatory snarling a moment ago. I smile at him. ‘Well, I’m no Little Red Riding Hood. But I don’t get out much and all this is very new to me.’

‘Indeed. I keep forgetting. Do you know, we’ve never had anyone make their first apparation at your age before? Not that I’m suggesting you’re old...’

I note the speculative gleam in his eyes and laugh. ‘Of course not.’

He holds out his hand. ‘Ask anyone in the town about me. I’m one of the good guys.’

Every cell in my body is screaming at me to turn tail and run. Instead I place my hand in his. ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

I’m half-expecting Effrayant to follow us but when the door slams shut behind us, I realise that it’s just me and the Mayor. If I’d been hoping for a sign of any mares, I’m sadly disappointed. We’re in a long, narrow filing room with not so much as a sugar cube in evidence.

‘Ashley shouldn’t have taken you to the Bubble but I can’t really punish her for it. She’s very well-liked. It has rather forced my hand, however, when I’d hoped to ease you in more gently.’

I’m struck by his choice of words about Ashley but I focus on the important part instead. ‘Ease me in to what?’

‘This.’ He walks over to a cabinet and pulls open a drawer. Inside are cards after cards after cards. Using the edge of his thumb and forefinger, he pinches one and slides it out. ‘8423,9214. Those are the coordinates that correspond to the door number.’

‘You mean in the Bubble?’

‘Yes.’ He reads out. ‘Jones, Alan. Born Ipswich, UK, 1969. Engineer.’

I stare at him. ‘Find that door and you’ll find Alan Jones?’

The Mayor smiles. ‘You’ll find his dreams anyway.’ He replaces the card and points to another cabinet. ‘These are the latest acquisitions.’ He takes out the first card and licks his lips. ‘We found this one yesterday. A young up-and-coming backbencher.’

I start. ‘A politician?’

‘Yes. Labour – not that it matters at the moment. But he’ll be in a position of power one of these days. And we’ll be able to see into his head.’

I feel sick. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘Imagine knowing what the government is planning in advance. Any government. If there are plans for an invasion or a military strike, you could inform the victims in advance. You’d save lives. In fact, we’ve done that in the past. How do you think so many terrorist plots are foiled? We see what those bastards are dreaming and we know what they’re going to do next. Of course, we can’t find all of them but I have a lot of people working on tracking the doors and creating these cards. It’s amazing what you can discover.’

He makes a convincing argument but the potential for misuse is terrifying. Forget CCTV cameras, phone hacking and Orwell’s Big Brother. This is snooping on a whole new level.

I wonder whether I’m any different for wandering into dreams in a similar fashion. I tell myself that I am; I’m not deliberately seeking people out, not to manipulate their real lives.

‘It’s hard though,’ the Mayor adds. ‘There are a lot of people out there and we can’t track them all. There are the old myths about dreamweavers, of course...’ I stiffen and he gives me a sudden, hard look. ‘A dreamweaver can change the fabric of the mind. Apparently.’

‘Sounds silly,’ I say, my mind racing back to Dante’s accusations.

‘You’re right. They’re probably myths. In the absence of dreamweavers, however, having a few mares around to send out and create nightmares...’ He laughs. ‘Not that we would. I’m as much one for animal rights as you clearly are.’

He’s still watching me carefully and I suddenly realise where all of this is leading. The Mayor also suspects me of being a dreamweaver. It’s obviously something to do with me only just showing up here in the Dreamlands despite my advanced age.