Night Shade (7 page)

‘What’s wrong, darling?’

‘I might ask you the same question,’ I answer, still annoyed with myself. ‘You’re in a hurry to leave.’

‘I have a lot to do. I’m sorry. I’d love to stay longer.’

I unlock the door and turn to her. ‘It seems like you’re trying to avoid answering my questions.’

She trills out a high-pitched laugh. ‘Don’t be silly, Zoe! I’ll call you later and see how you are.’ She looks at the carpet. ‘Is that where the man...’

I nod and my mother shivers. ‘He should have had the consideration to die in his own home.’

‘Um...’

‘Sorry, darling. But you’ve been through enough trauma as it is.’ She kisses me on the cheek and this time I let her. After all, the damage has already been done. She leaves in a whirl of flying scarves and Chanel No 5. I watch her go, lost in thought. Once she’s out of sight, I re-bolt all the locks and go and sit down.

***

I
fight sleep for as long as I can. Unfortunately by the time midnight rolls around I’m so tired that I know it’s a losing battle. I fall into bed – fully dressed this time – and close my eyes. For a moment nothing happens and I think I might escape but, just when I start to relax, my ears prickle again.

It’s the same forest. I really, really don’t want to come across that man again. Neither have I any desire to be chased by imaginary unicorns and cause them to be caught in the steel jaws of vicious mantraps. So, I take a gamble and walk in the opposite direction to the previous night, hoping no glowing eyes will suddenly appear. At least now that I’m clothed, it’s not as damn cold as it was before.

I tramp through the dry brush. I pay less attention to what’s around me this time; I’m more concerned with finding a way out of this bloody place. I move faster but the density of trees and undergrowth, not to mention the darkness, mean I’m still not as fast as I wish. I march on and on for what seems like an age. I remember my glee from the first night with Hartman and sigh. These hallucinations are no longer any fun.

I’m not scared exactly, but I feel desperation seeping into my soul. When several tree roots hamper my progress even more, my frustration boils over.

‘This is freaking stupid!’ I kick at one, and only succeed in hurting my toe.

‘There’s no reason to take it out on the oak,’ a slow musical voice says.

I spin round. I can’t see a damn thing.

‘Would you like some help in getting out of here?’

I hesitate, then I stop acting like a wimp and square my shoulders. None of this is real, Zoe, I remind myself. ‘Yes,’ I say aloud.

‘Excellent. I do so enjoy helping out those in need.’

There’s an edge to the words that makes me suspicious. Before I can form the thought properly, however, a woman appears. She has jet-black hair and alabaster skin that looks as pure and smooth as a newborn baby’s. I think of my own scratched legs and freckled arms and feel very flawed. But she’s a dream woman; of course she looks perfect. Just like that man from last night looked perfect.

‘Like an airbrushed magazine picture,’ I mutter.

The woman arches an eyebrow. ‘A what?’

‘Never mind. How do I get out of here?’

She laughs. ‘Come, come! There’s no need to be so hasty. After all, we’ve not been properly introduced yet. I’m Lilith.’ She shakes her hair and it flies up in a soft halo, framing her face and mirroring the dark of the forest.

‘I’m Zoe.’ I shake my hair. It slaps me uncomfortably on the cheek before falling limply back down. Oh well.

‘And where are you from, Zoe?’

The keen interest in her gaze is making me more wary. ‘Uh, the quiet lands,’ I say.

Lilith seems confused. ‘The quiet lands? I have not heard of this place.’

‘Where are you from?’

She smiles, revealing a row of even white teeth. ‘Here, of course.’

‘And where is here?’

Lilith’s smile grows wider and an icy finger trails down my spine. This doesn’t feel right. I back away. ‘This is your first time here?’ she asks

‘No!’ I burst out. ‘It’s not! I’ve been here before.’

‘Have you indeed? So why are you lost?’

I glare at her. Lilith is not as helpful as advertised. Screw it, I don’t need her. Even if I spend the rest of the night wandering around, I’ll still wake up safe in my bed.

‘Never mind,’ I sniff. ‘I’ll find my own way out.’ I start to sidle past her but she grabs my arm. But as soon as she touches me, she pulls away as if burned. Her fingers leave an imprint on my skin.

She snarls, her perfect features growing twisted and ugly. ‘What are you?’

‘I’m Zoe.’ I try to move past her again but she blocks my path.

‘Did the Department send you?’

I stop. ‘The Department? What is the Department?’

‘Evil,’ she hisses. There’s so much venom in her tone that I step backwards.

‘But–’ I’m interrupted by a sudden long howl. I blink. ‘What the hell was that?’

Lilith’s features smooth over, as if someone’s taken an eraser and wiped them clean. ‘I must go.’ She regards me with a mixture of fear and anticipation. ‘I will see you again, Zoe from the quiet lands.’

Before I can open my mouth, Lilith vanishes. ‘Well, that was a waste of bloody time,’ I mutter.

I step carefully over the tree roots but I still stumble. My body flies forward and the ground rushes up towards me. I brace my hands to break the fall but my ribs smash hard against the ground – and then hands are helping me to my feet and I’m blinking in brilliant sunshine.

I look up. My rescuer looks like the All-American Hero with his blond hair, friendly blue eyes, chiselled jaw and glowing tan. My cheeks suddenly feel warm.

‘I shouldn’t be allowed to blush in a dream,’ I say aloud, then clamp my hand over my mouth.

He looks at me curiously. ‘You know you’re in a dream?’

I frown; the dark annoying man said something similar. ‘Yes,’ I say slowly, as the heat in my face subsides. ‘Where am I exactly?’

He steps aside, throwing out his arm with a dramatic flourish towards the scenery behind him. I see a pretty village with cobbled streets, buildings that look as if they were built several centuries before, several people milling around and, overlooking everything, a fairytale castle that would turn Walt Disney green with envy. I gape.

‘Welcome to the Dreamlands,’ he says. ‘I’m Bron.’

***

B
ron leads me through several winding streets. Some of the people we pass give me curious glances, others ignore me. Given the quaint surroundings, I might have expected everyone to be wearing period dress, but most of them are dressed like anyone you’d see on the pavements of London. I spy a Metallica T-shirt, a few bohemian dresses and even a onesie. Bron is rather dapper, in an open-necked shirt and grey trousers. I’m grateful that I’m not wearing my scruffy old T-shirt. He might not be real but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to impress him.

We stop at the door of a small pub with a thatched roof. Bron grins and bows, opening the door for me like a gentleman. I try not to simper and step inside.

Everyone turns towards us. The bartender, polishing a glass, raises his eyebrows. Ignoring my discomfort at being the centre of attention, I let Bron lead me to a small corner table.

‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Er...’ I spot a man nearby with a pint of amber liquid topped with a frothy head. ‘I’ll have one of those.’ It’s not like I get to drink draught beer in the real world any more.

‘A lady after my own heart,’ Bron says with a smile, and goes to order.

I look around the room more carefully. The gentleman next to me with the pint is in deep conversation with a woman. I catch a few words but none of it makes sense. My eyes drift over to a group of boisterous teenagers who are surely too young to drink legally. They are punching each other in the arm, shouting and laughing. I smile. It’s almost like being normal again.

Bron turns round and waves at me from the bar and I wave back. Then, from the corner of the room, I see a pair of glowering silver eyes. I stiffen; it’s the dark man from the forest. If looks could kill, I’d be a rotting corpse on the floor. He gives every impression of wanting to throttle me. What the hell. It’s only another dream, I tell myself.

I wave in his direction and he looks even crosser. I notice all the tables around him are empty and several of the other customers are sneaking glances at him. He wasn’t wrong before; people really do dislike him.

‘There you go,’ Bron says cheerfully, placing a pint in front of me.

I pick up the glass and take a tentative sip. ‘I can taste it!’ I crow.

‘It’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Mmmm.’ I chug down several mouthfuls. Screw creepy forests. This is the way I want the rest of my dreams to go.

A shadow falls across our table and we both look up. A woman is standing in front of us. ‘I need to talk to you,’ she says.

She is obviously talking to Bron, not me. As lovely as Bron is, I’m more than happy to focus on my drink so I don’t care. Bron, however, is less relaxed. He gestures at me. ‘Ashley, this is...’

‘Zoe,’ I supply helpfully. I smile and take another sip.

‘What a beautiful name,’ he says. He looks at Ashley. ‘We should probably do this another time.’

‘Why?’ Ashley pulls up a chair. ‘She’s just an outlier. She won’t remember this and she’ll never be here again.’ She looks at me guiltily. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. Bron, we need to do something about the Mayor’s guards. They’re getting too heavy-handed.’

I frown, zoning in on the conversation and Ashley’s earlier words. ‘Outlier? I’ve heard that before. What is it?’

The pair of them turn to me. Ashley seems astonished but I swear a look of glee crosses Bron’s face. ‘Where did you hear it before?’

‘Last night. I was in the forest then too.’

‘You were here yesterday and now you’re here again today?’

I nod. ‘Yup. Although I’ve got to say, this place is much nicer than the forest.’

Ashley and Bron exchange looks. ‘Zoe,’ Bron says urgently, ‘who did you meet in the forest?’

‘The dark-haired man in the corner who has a face like thunder.’ I point to where he was sitting and realise he’s gone. I shrug. ‘He has a scar.’

The pair of them stiffen. ‘You met Dante?’ Ashley says slowly.

I take another swig. Damn, this beer is good. ‘I didn’t catch his name. He wasn’t very nice. He said I was an outlier and that I should pinch myself and wake up.’

‘Well, he would, wouldn’t he?’ Bron breathes. There’s triumph in his gaze. ‘I knew this would pay off sooner or later.’

I drain the last of my glass and look at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘An outlier is someone who finds their way here by accident,’ Ashley explains. ‘We get a few every week. Bron takes it upon himself to greet them all, just on the off-chance that they end up being Travellers.’

I’m even more confused. ‘Travellers?’

‘People who can come here at will.’

‘I didn’t choose to come here,’ I say. ‘In fact, I was trying to...’

There’s a shout from the table of teenagers. One of the boys is on his feet and raising his fists. The girl opposite him springs up, grabs a glass and empties its contents. She smashes it against the back of a chair and jabs it in the boy’s direction.

‘Bron,’ Ashley says, warningly.

Irritated, he gets up and strides over.

‘Goodness. I never expected my dreams to have violence in them,’ I comment as I watch him snatch the broken glass from the girl. I’m conscious of Ashley looking at me. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘This isn’t your dream, Zoe,’ she says, her voice low.

‘Is it yours?’ Obviously I’ve neither met her nor touched her but it’s not as if I’ve had a large sample on which to test my theories.

She looks confused. ‘No. It’s not anyone’s specific dream.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I...’ She looks frustrated and I realise that Bron is heading back in our direction. ‘Look, if you end up here again, come and find me and I’ll explain everything. I’ll be by the river.’ She stands up. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you some other time, Bron.’

‘I thought it was important?’

‘It’ll keep for now.’ She throws a tight smile in my direction. ‘Maybe I’ll see you around, Zoe.’

I try to smile back. ‘Maybe.’

She walks out and Bron takes her seat. ‘I’m glad she’s gone. Ashley’s wonderful but now I can get to know you better without any interruptions.’

I look at his smiling face. ‘I think I’m going to need another drink first,’ I admit.

Deep in that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

Edgar Allen Poe

––––––––

W
hen I wake up on Sunday morning, my head is pounding. I can’t work out why until I remember that I drank several more pints of beer in the dream. Bron was remarkably good company but I’m not sure that makes an imaginary hangover any more pleasant to bear.

I massage my temples then recall what Ashley said and frown. Perhaps it’s not an imaginary hangover at all.

I pad into the bathroom and throw a couple of paracetamol down my throat. As I’m still wearing the same clothes, which now feel sticky and uncomfortable, I strip off and have a hot shower. If nothing else, it might wake me up and push away the dregs of my headache. When I’m dressed again, I go downstairs, make sure the Chairman has enough food and collect a large piece of paper from my study. I pin it onto the wall.

I start with the old man, drawing a small stick figure in the left corner. Next to it, I write ‘electric shock’. I draw a line and add in Hartman. After he touched me, I was in his dream. Or vice-versa. He didn’t see me in the dream though, and had no recollection of my presence. And when I woke up, I had damp hair as if I really had been there in that alley, standing in the rain. Underneath Hartman I include the postman and his details. They’re remarkably similar to Hartman’s – and surely it’s not a coincidence that my suspicions about his letter hoarding were true?

I frown then draw another line. Two nights ago, I had no human contact but I ended up in the forest; I have scratches on my legs to prove it. Last night, however, the last person I touched was my mother and I ended up in the forest again. Followed by the place that Bron called the Dreamlands, where I drank beer. Now I have a hangover. Obviously whatever physical experiences I have when I dream manifest themselves into reality.