Visioness (14 page)

Adabelle perked up at this.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh didn’t you know? He was
the one who created the Nhyxes…or rather, the Sturding Nhyxes specifically. He
was able to bring them into this world. I don’t know how. It was his own
private army of nightmares.”

“And what did you do with
them?” Adabelle asked.

“Well, being Sturdings, we
are still able to seal them into dream spheres. As your father was sealed away.
Of course, unsealing them leads to certain complications.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well regardless of whether
Sturding or not, the dreamspheres are like small pieces of the dream
frequencies. When one is broken, to release whatever’s inside, the thing
released is still limited to the dream unless dragged out by another Sturding.
Of course, accidents have occurred.” She indicated to her silver hair. “I was
in one dream where I’d had to disguise myself. I changed everything about me,
yet when I emerged from the dream, my hair stayed silver. I have tried
time-and-time again to re-enter dreams and change it, but it doesn’t change.
I’m not the only one. There have been people who have changed their hand they
use to write with, people change eye colour, identity even! It comes with the
danger of being a Sturding. When you change one reality, part of you must
accept the dream more fully than the real thing and then it sticks. I suspect
your father understood this best, and is using it to do…what he’s doing.”

“And what about my father?”
Adabelle asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if he’s broken free,
then what happens to him if he’s a Sturding. We’ve seen he can harm people in
the real world—my cousin as example—and if he has broken free of his sphere,
then what happens there?”

“He may be able to influence
dreams, but I do not think he could make himself known in the real world. At
least directly, or physically. He is a Sturding, yes, but his body was
destroyed, his ashes scattered on the wind.”

“Then do you have any
suggestions on how to avoid him?” she asked.

Lady Morphier was quiet for
a time.

“Slugleaf tea is an obvious
option, though by no means a perfect one. If you don’t brew the right amount,
or you gain a resistance to it over time—which isn’t unheard of—then you could
find yourself in his sights. You could have some Dreamer’s guard your dreams,
but that’s incredibly expensive and impractical. There’s always forcing
yourself awake, but then the precursors are meant to stop that.”

As Adabelle was already too
aware.

“I wish I had more answers;
truly I do. But alas, I cannot think of any more.”

“You’ve done what you can,”
Adabelle said. “That’s all I can ask.”

Adabelle finished her tea,
and Lady Morphier did the same.

“Now we have not been able
to check for you if the sphere is indeed been stolen or broken, as there is a
twelve hour period for clearance on any visit to the Hall of Spheres. Even I
must wait. It’s a rule and I do not intend to see it broken. Thankfully, we
were informed of your visit yesterday so clearance has been made available to
you and I. Shall we go there now?”

Adabelle’s stomach clenched
into a ball, the way a hedgehog curls itself up. She felt suddenly ill,
realising what lay before her.

The truth,
she thought. It was time to
face it.

She followed Lady Morphier
through the halls, and down small corridor towards an elevator. They travelled
down it to a floor below the basement, and emerged in a dark room with only one
other door opposite them. Lady Morphier pulled a key from around her neck and
opened the door. The next room appeared to be some kind of reception, judging
from the desk and the well-lit space, and the man presently sitting there,
tapping away on a typewriter.

“Name?” he asked, barely
glancing up from his typewriter.

Lady Morphier cleared her
throat, and the man jumped.

“I do apologise, I did not
recognise who it was. Forgive me, my Lady.” He glanced down at the tome before
him. “Yes, you both have clearance. Please go through.”

Morphier nodded, and walked
past, Adabelle following along behind her.

The Hall of Spheres was a
well lit room, which stretched far into the distance, separated into smaller
rooms all connected by archways.

“This halls is divided into
multiple sections in order to make organisation easier,” Lady Morphier
explained, as they began their way amongst the stacks. “There are Nhyxes and
nightmares and dreams as well as many other categories. Basically, we do work
for hire when required to fight off recurring nightmares, or to snatch dreams
from someone who doesn’t need those sorts of fancies troubling them. We get
quite a few calls from parents of children with disabilities. There are some
things they needn’t suffer.”

Her tone suggested pity and
sadness. Adabelle had never considered what the Oen’Aerei could really be used
for.

“But what we’re looking for
is in a very specific section.”

Deep into the halls they
went, crossing multiple arches into different sections, occasionally changing
direction.

“Here we are,” Morphier
said, as they turned into on particular archive alley. It went on for an
impossible distance, and Adabelle began to wonder as to whether this archive
went on forever under the city.

Adabelle followed Morphier
down the alley, the weight in her chest turning to iron, the air around her
turning to ice. Now was the time. Now was the moment. In the next few moments,
she would know the truth, though her suspicions were already mostly confirmed.

For Larraine,
she thought, as Morphier
came to a stop.

“I must apologise,” Morphier
said, staring at the shelf. “It appears the sphere is gone.”

“Not gone,” Adabelle
replied, staring at the floor. “Broken.” She pointed, at shards of blue,
crystalline glass on the floor, smashed and sprayed out under the shelf opposite.

Lady Morphier turned and
gasped, hand clutching at her chest. She pushed herself up against the shelf,
as if the shards were deadly.

“But how?” she muttered. “No
one is allowed in here. They’re unbreakable.”

So many questions began to
cascade upon Adabelle. What was she to do now that she knew the truth? What
would the Oen’Aerei do in order to investigate what had happened here?

“If the Dreamless find out,”
Lady Morphier said, “I can only imagine the danger we’ll all be in.” Her tone
was unfathomably terrified, like her darkest nightmare—her Nhyx—had reared its
ugly head.

Lady Morphier double-checked
the tag on the front of the shelf, confirming that this one had been Count
Therron’s.

“I am so sorry, Adabelle,”
Morphier said. “You have your answers now. You must go now. I have much…much I
must tend to.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, her façade disintegrating.
“I will guide you out.”

Adabelle followed Morphier
from the archive and up into the Halls. From there, she was left with one of
the students to be guided from the Halls. She was left at the gates, the gates
closed, and Adabelle was alone.

And while alone at the
gates, the terror of the truth came crashing upon her. Like an avalanche of
fear she began to shiver and sob. She had to find safety, she had to seek
peace. But Therron could enter her mind and her sleep. To sleep now would be
incredibly dangerous.

She took her time before the
gate to compose herself, for she was in no state to travel at present. She soon
managed to settle herself enough to brave the tram ride to the University, but
once there, she would let out all her fear, all her emotion. With a deep,
cathartic resolution, she decided she needed to find somewhere safe; a
sanctuary. Her sister was safe, but Therron had made his powers known in
killing Larraine.

There was so much
preparation to do if she was to survive this.

PART TWO

Matters of Reality

Adabelle managed to contain
her emotions as she made her way home. She stopped at the chemist on the way
there to pick up some Slugleaf tea. She got as much as she was allowed with the
money she had, and judging from the portion, it would last her close to a
fortnight.

When she arrived home,
though, she found herself exhausted. So much had happened that day that she
desired nothing more than to lie down and nap. She was especially happy when
she arrived home and found that the police had chosen not to speak with her that
day, giving her the entire afternoon to herself.

She had intended to use the
time to practice violin, but found she had no energy to do that. Instead, she
took to her bed, lying down to sleep.

Apparently the Slugleaf tea
Lady Morphier had given her was enough to hold dreams at bay during her nap. Her
sleep was dark and silent, and when she awoke two hours later, she felt well-rested.
She had some late lunch, followed by some tea, choosing to spend most of her
time alone that afternoon. Soon, she would have to face her sister and explain
everything, but for now, she could luxuriate in the peace of ignorance for one
last golden moment.

When she woke, she found her
sister sitting on her bed, holding a tissue in her hands. She played with it,
crumpling it in her fingers, unfurling it again. Crinkling, unfolding.

“Hello,” Charlotte whispered.

“Hello,” Adabelle replied.

“I’m sorry for running off
like that yesterday,” she said, bowing her head apologetically. “I know I’ve
had you worried for the last few days, and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“And I’m sorry, too,”
Adabelle said, “for not telling you more. I’m…sorry.” She grimaced. “I’ve made
a few mistakes, and the consequences have been…terrible to say the least.”

“So now’s the time to tell
me,” Charlotte said. “Given what’s happened, I think I deserve answers.”

“You deserved answers long
ago,” Adabelle said, “I just wasn’t brave enough to reveal them. I was a
coward.”

Charlotte had no response to
that, instead sitting expectantly, playing with her tissue all the while. Adabelle
spoke of Larraine’s nightmare with Therron and the Nhyx, of her run in with
their father in the dream frequencies, of the repeated appearances in her
nightmares, and of Larraine’s warning.

“And of course, we both know
what became of that warning.”

Both of them were silent.
Adabelle considered it a moment of respect for their cousin.

“And why didn’t you tell me
that our father was back? This was why you were saying his name in your sleep!
This is why Aunt Marie had that attack! Because our father’s back! That’s why!”

“I know, and I’m very, very
sorry. But I didn’t want to trouble you until I had confirmation.”

“And Larraine’s death was
the confirmation?”

Adabelle didn’t blame her
sister for her anger; in many ways she deserved to be spoken to like that. But
it didn’t soften the blows she felt to her conscience.

“No,” Adabelle replied
quietly. “Visiting the halls of the Oen’Aerei was. I didn’t want to trouble you
if it was just a particularly crafty Nhyx, or someone else playing tricks. You
know as well as I what our father is capable of, and I didn’t need you worrying
yourself with it if it was really nothing. Larraine’s death simply spurred me
on. I didn’t want to go the halls, because I was scared. I don’t feel good
about any of this, but it’s just what’s happened.” She had found herself so
embroiled in the emotion of their discussion that she’d begun to cry and had
not yet noticed. She pulled a handkerchief from her bedside drawer and dabbed
her eyes.

“I’m sorry if I seem upset,”
Charlotte said.

“You have every right to
be,” Adabelle replied, “just as surely as Larraine’s ghost now has every right
to haunt me every night for the rest of my life.”

“Now don’t think like that,”
Charlotte said, shifting herself so she was next to Adabelle. She threw an arm
around her sister, patting softly. “I think what you need to remember is that
no amount of preparation could have kept anyone safe. You’ve bought some Slugleaf
tea—yes, I know what it does. But even then, our father was an especially
powerful Dreamer. I don’t think that Larraine would have survived even if she
had any tea herself. Therron would have found a way around it.”

“He can’t affect you,”
Adabelle said. “He can’t touch you in the Dream Frequencies.”

Charlotte looked bewildered,
sitting before Adabelle.

“And that’s part of the
reason I didn’t tell you. As far as you’re concerned, you don’t even have to
worry about him coming after you. You can’t dream, so he can’t even find you.
If he tried to enter your mind, he’d see only blackness. You’re safe.”

“Then tell me what I can do
to help you,” Charlotte said, taking Adabelle’s hands in her own. Her touch was
warm and soft and gentle, but comforting. “Tell me what I can do to remind you
that everything will be okay.”

“But that’s just it.”
Adabelle said. “It’s not your job to look after me. It’s my job to look after
you. I’m the big sister. And I can’t do that if I can barely care for myself.”

“I don’t care whether you’re
my big sister or my great aunty, I am here to look after you, too. There is a
lot of trouble ahead, for both of us, and if I can’t help you through it all,
then I don’t know what use I am. If I can’t give you a hug when you need it, or
promise you that everything is going to be okay, then I don’t know if I can
take part in this. But I’m giving you no choice here. We are going to get
through this together, whether you want my help or not.”

Adabelle couldn’t hold back
her emotions any longer. She embraced her sister tightly, sobbing into her
shoulder. “Oh, thank goodness I have you here with me,” she said. “I don’t know
what I’d do without you.”

“Nor I you,” Charlotte said.
“Now I want you to promise that you’ll tell me everything from now on, whether
it means worrying me or not. I don’t care whether it’s about dreams or our
father or if you like a boy, I need to know. Promise?”

“I promise,” Adabelle said.

“Well, good. Now I don’t
want us fighting at all. Tonight, we’re going to have dinner, you’ll take your
Slugleaf tea and everything will be all right. We’ll start thinking about what
we can do tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” Adabelle said.

She welcomed the
conversation with her sister over dinner. After spending so long stewing in her
own thoughts, it was nice to be able to be open and honest again. They were
each the only family they had in the world, really. They had to take care of
one another.

But none of this changed the
fact her father was now certainly after her. He had made it known that he could
influence things in the real world, though his body was limited to the Dream
Frequencies. He had revealed that he had some control over people in the dream,
too, in the way he had influenced Larraine, whether they be Sturding or
otherwise.

Adabelle wondered for a time
whether being a Sturding would be an advantage in facing her father. The fact
that his reality was now the dream meant that, theoretically, he could only reach
her in the frequencies. She brushed those thoughts aside; she wasn’t a Sturding
and she didn’t expect to become one any time soon.

Yet as she watched her
sister eat, she couldn’t help but sense something troubling on the horizon.
Hard times lay ahead for them both, that she knew, but she was sure they would
be able to weather it together. Yet that didn’t soothe the fears she felt
within.

She pieced together in her
head the meaning and the reasons behind her father’s movements in an attempt to
find some clue as to how to be rid of him. And yet the more she looked, the
more perplexed she became. It was like doing a puzzle with extra pieces and missing
edges. She was flying completely blind as she wondered about her father’s
actions.

What reasons did he have for
killing Larraine? What purpose would that serve other than scaring her and her
sister? It seemed, in all honesty, a very brash act, without any real purpose
or motivation.

Larraine said he was coming
for me,
she
said,
that these attacks were a warning. Surely there must be something I’m
missing! What was his purpose in killing Larraine?
None of it made sense.

She left those thoughts to
her subconscious as she finished her dinner, before retiring to her bedroom
with a cup of strong Slugleaf tea. As previously, the Slugleaf tea took hold
quickly and she found her eyes growing heavy. She curled up in bed, expecting a
dreamless sleep. But regardless, she was quick to drift off.

She awoke to a polite knock
at the door, groggily getting herself out of bed. The clock said it was almost
nine o’clock.

“I’m sorry to bother you,
Adabelle,” Mrs. Abeth said, “but the police are here to talk. I’ll let them
know you’re only just getting up. Please be in the library in twenty minutes.
Is that okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I didn’t
realise the time.”

“The Slugleaf tea will do
that to you,” Mrs. Abeth said, leaving Adabelle to change. She closed the door,
glancing over the Charlotte’s empty bed. She must have had tutoring that
morning, or perhaps had other things to tend to. She quickly washed and
dressed, hoping her powder blue summer dress was suitable for an interview with
the police.

The Odilla University
Library was a brilliant piece of architecture. Three floors of books, with the
centre of the building being a staircase built into a bookshelf, spiralling up
through the floors. Off these levels were private study rooms, where small
groups could study together or where people could find some peace and quiet
away from the ruckus of the cafeteria.

Today, however, one of the larger
of the rooms was in use for the interview. The police themselves—there were
three of them—stood in the soundproof room in their dark navy blue uniforms.
They were talking amongst themselves about something, and comparing notes
scrawled on a pad at the table. Adabelle knocked before one of the police came
to the door to let her in.

“Hello, Miss Blaise,” said
the one who’d opened the door. He was a larger fellow, with a moustache that
curled around at the ends, and dark, heavy eyebrows. His badge announced that
he was Senior Sergeant Adrien Belland. The other one nearest her, sitting with
his own notepad was Constable Rainier Mariette, who was a kind-looking man,
probably around the same age as Adrien, but clean-shaven. And the third, who
was dressed in uniform but had a brown waistcoat over the top of it, was
Detective Napoleon Olin. He was a handsome one, but also much younger than the
other two. He kept his hair short and a thin layer of stubble over much of his
face.

“Hello,” she said, as she
stepped into the room, speaking mostly to Detective Olin; purely by accident,
of course.

“How are you today?” asked
Belland, his moustache wiggling as he spoke.

“Well enough,” she replied,
taking a seat opposite the police.

“Well good,” he said. “We
must first apologise for bothering you. I’m sure you and your sister are still
grieving.”

“Well thank you for that
consideration,” Adabelle said. “It’s appreciated.”

“Now we mustn’t dawdle, we
do have much to do today,” Belland went on, taking a seat. “Now, first of all,
we need you to know your account of the events that transpired on the day your
cousin died.”

“Very well,” Adabelle said,
casting her mind back to the morning. She recounted every event to the best of
her ability, while also filling in on the events prior to Larraine’s death, as
far as the previous attacks, the Nhyxes and everything else associated with
that. She then went on to talk about the broken Dream Sphere in the Halls and
of Lady Morphier, who said she would be conducting her own investigation as to
Count Therron’s release.

“I’m sure they keep good
records there,” Adabelle said. “I don’t think anyone could have just released
him without it being noted as to time and date of people’s comings and goings.”

“I’m sorry for our
ignorance,” the handsome detective said, taking a seat across from Adabelle,
“but I was wondering if you could please explain this Dreaming thing. I may be
the only one, but I have never had personal dealings with these Dreamers.”

“It’s the Oen’Aerei,”
Adabelle explained. “Their halls are just on the other side of the river, I’m
sure you’ve seen it.”

“Oh, I understand that,”
Detective Olin said, “but I’m not sure about
how
your father, a man we
all know to be dead, could have done any of this.”

She went on to talk about
the night her mother had made the deal with her father. She was allowed to keep
Adabelle alive in the care of the University, and somehow Charlotte was allowed
to live, but they never saw their mother again. She didn’t know what agreement
they made, but she was sure Therron had ensured the deal worked in his favour.

“Basically what
happened—though I do not quite understand many of the specifics—is that my
father’s mind was trapped in to a Dream Sphere. He was Sturding, which means he
can physically appear in both the Dream Frequencies and here in the real world.
As Lady Morphier explained it to me, it would be that he understood
both
worlds as his reality. It’s really a matter of existence and reality.”