Visioness (31 page)

“Who was describing me?” she
asked. “The detectives?”

“No! Matthon,” Rhene
replied.

Adabelle’s eyes widened,
suddenly terrified. “But how? How could he know I’m here unless you told him
about me?”

“I haven’t told him about
you, I promise that,” he said. “Unless he saw you in the Dream the night you
came here and recognised you from the posters.” He closed the door behind him,
locking it tightly. “Oh, God! What should we do.”

“I’m a Sturding,” Adabelle
replied calmly. “I can Dream my way out.”

“True. I suppose we have a
little bit of time.”

Adabelle ran her fingers
through his hair. “I promise, the moment I can find you again, I will return.”

“I know,” he replied,
whispering. He ran a hand down the side of her face, warm, hopeful, desperate.
He leant in and kissed her, hard and passionate. She had to fight from getting
caught up in it. She needed to calm herself, needed to sleep.

“Thank you for protecting me
while you could,” she said.

“I do what I can. Now go to
sleep. You have to escape. I’d follow you in if it wasn’t such a great risk to
be caught.” Rhene settled onto the bed. “But I’ll be by your side the whole
time till you drift off. I promise.”

She nodded, stepping away,
double-checking that the door was definitely locked. She settled down beside
Rhene, closing her eyes and running her hands through his hair. She remembered
her mother doing that when she was very young, and it always sent her straight
off to sleep.

Her mind reached for
restfulness as a fishermen seeks out a catch. She pushed out with her dream
tendrils for the Frequencies. As relaxation closed in, she desperately grasped for
the Frequencies, wrapping those tendrils around it, tying them off like
fetters.

The clock on the desk
continued to tick. From down the hall, Adabelle heard voices. Detective Olin’s.

I hope you’re asleep,
Adabelle thought. There was
a knock at the door, but Rhene didn’t stir.
Here I go.

Another knock, this one more
furious. Her mind sunk, her body drifting in after it. Rhene’s body fell away,
his arms releasing her.

Then, she threw herself—body
and mind—into the Dream Frequencies.

“Thank you,” she whispered,
as she began to run.

From the shadowy recesses of
her mind appeared some figures. They appeared from the mists, fading into
existence. There was Lady Morphier at the very front of this gathering, her
face its usual painted self, her entire existence brilliant and extravagant and
grand.

“Hello, Adabelle,” she said.
More shadowed figures emerged from the crowd, all of them cloaked in the
crimson of the Oen’Aerei. It was a gathering of Sturdings, here to intercept
her. It took her a moment to notice that the taxidermied deer usually kept
around the woman’s neck was walking and moving and blinking. In the Dreamn it
could live by will of Lady Morphier’s mind.

“What are you here for?” she
asked. “You’re not here to take me to my father?” She breathed in the air and smelled
no cologne.

“No, we’re working with the
police. They knew you’d try to escape through the Dream, so we’re here to stop
that.”

“Not if I can help it,”
Adabelle replied, turning suddenly and running back towards Rhene’s mind. She
didn’t notice the deer take chase, though, throwing itself in front of her. It tripped
her. Adabelle careened through the air. She fell to the floor of the dream with
a loud crack. It seemed Dreams hurt just as much as real life.

“Get her,” she heard Lady
Morphier say. Within seconds, she was surrounded by crimson cloaks, her arms
and legs held in place by invisible bonds. Her vision swam with shadows and
stars.

From there, she was dragged
out of the Frequencies, screaming and kicking. She emerged in Rhene’s room, the
door bashed down. Detective Olin stood over Rhene. He had his head in a lock.
The man Adabelle assumed was Matthon was in the doorway, shaking his head in
disgust.

“I’ll deal with Rhene if
that is okay with you, Detective,” Matthon said.

“Quite all right,” he
replied, turning to Adabelle. “We’ve got who we want.” His smile was triumphant.

Still lost in the buffer,
Adabelle attempted to fly away, imagining herself carried on wings she had
created with her own thoughts. But she couldn’t fly away. The reality of it all
struck her like a knife to the chest, bringing furious tears to her face.

Detective Olin had the
agents of the Oen’Aerei drag Adabelle to her feet, despite her struggle.

“You’ll be in court soon
enough,” he said. “We can decide your fate from there.”

She spat in his face. “I’m
innocent,” she said, surprised at her own audacity. She put part of it up to
the dream buffer, but accepted that most of it has arisen from her out of sheer
hatred.

The detective wiped the
spittle away, appearing entirely unperturbed by it. “Take her down to the entry
hall. The other officers are waiting down there for her.”

“Thank you,” Matthon said,
stepping aside, “and I do apologise for any trouble.”

They marched Adabelle down the
hall, Detective Olin hanging back for a moment longer.

“Quite all right,” he
replied. “And no trouble at all. We’ve caught the guilty party. I can only
thank you.”

How will I ever escape this?
she thought. She didn’t
struggle now, though she wanted to. Struggling would not help her cause in the
slightest.

I will find you again,
Rhene. I will find you and protect my sister, no matter what happens.

Of course, if she was found
guilty, she doubted that she’d find herself anywhere else but the firing squad.

From the Dreamless Barracks,
Detective Olin took Adabelle to the police station. There, Lady Morphier
shackled her with one of the mindlock bracelets.

“So that you can’t Dream
your way to escape,” she said, with a triumphant smile. She then leaned in
close, breath gentle on the hair around her ears. “You should have taken your
father’s offer when you had the chance.”

“I will stop you before this
is over.” Adabelle glared at Morphier. “You and my father.”

“Come along,” Detective Olin
said, taking her away. Lady Morphier kept her cool smile as Olin led Adabelle
down the hallway. They put her in a grey cell, slammed shut the barred door and
locked it.

“When will I be put before
the court?” she asked, as she leaned against the bars. They needed to know they
didn’t scare her. They needed to know that she was innocent.

“Soon as we can. Cases like
this have to be dealt with quickly.”

“So that there’s no
opportunity for other suspects to pop up?” she asked. “Get rid of the wrongly
accused before they have a chance to argue.”

Detective Olin broke into a
slight, crooked smile. “I will have you know we have made exhaustive
investigations into all of these occurrences. In all cases, we have been led
back to you.” He spoke quickly, pointing to her. “Now, you tell me how you can
possibly believe for a second that you are innocent. Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Count Therron is the one
doing all this,” she retorted through clenched teeth.

“Count Therron is dead,”
Detective Olin said. “I have received confirmation from Lady Morphier herself.
She has done her research and she has assured me he is gone. There comes a time
when you have to accept that there is no escaping this. You have been found
guilty.” He began to walk away. “And you will face the firing squad for your
actions before long.”

He spoke as if he were the
judge and had already made his decision.

He’s under Therron’s spell,
too,
she
thought,
even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“And will I get to see my
sister?” Her voice echoed within the prison.

“Not at this point in time,
but you will, before long.” The detective was then gone, and Adabelle was alone
in her cell. Even though she was alone, and no one was there to see her, she
knew she couldn’t cry. They had to know they hadn’t broke her. They had to know
she was facing this bravely, for she knew she was innocent.

Later the following day, one
of the jail officers collected Adabelle and took her to a locked room, where
she found Charlotte sitting across a table.

“Charlotte,” Adabelle
gasped, as she walked into the room. She was still in the clothes she had been
captured in, arms cuffed behind her back. The chair she was made to sit in was
hard and straight-backed and probably invented to make her as uncomfortable as
possible. Her cuff was removed from one of her hands and wrapped around the
chair leg.

“You have half an hour,”
said the officer. “We’ll be back.”

The officer left the room,
locking the door.

“Oh, Charlotte, I have
missed you,” Adabelle said the moment the door was closed.

“I have missed you, too.” Charlotte
reached her hands across the table, wanting to grasp at Adabelle’s own. She
held her sister’s hand with her only free hand. “Have you heard anything about
what’s going to happen to you.”

“Very little,” Adabelle
replied. “They’ve told me it won’t take long before I’m in front of the court,
and Detective Olin is talking as if they’ve already made their verdict.”

“Well the evidence is
stacked against you,” she said. “Papa has done something terrible in having you
imprisoned.”

“He’s not our father,”
Adabelle said. “Don’t call him that. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

She could almost imagine him
now, watching on from the Frequencies, listening to her discuss matters with
her sister. She pictured the sickly grin on his face, watching her writhe as
she took the blame for her father’s crime.

“Have you heard anything?”
asked Adabelle.

“I haven’t,” Charlotte said.
“I suppose no news is good news. I know Rhene got angry with his leader for
ratting you out, but he’s in no trouble with the law. Matthon is painting it as
some kind of Dreamer’s mind-trick.”

“Does no one understand how
Dreaming works?” Adabelle exclaimed. “You would think people would inquire more
into matters like these when someone’s life is at stake!”

Charlotte lowered her head,
sad. “I suppose they’ve found someone to blame. They’re happy.”

Adabelle reached across the
table, grabbing Charlotte’s hand. Her little sister looked up suddenly, gazing
into Adabelle’s eyes. “I will not stand before the firing squad,” Adabelle
said, “I promise that. We will fix this before it comes to that.” She then
added,
Even if it means I have to drag Therron into Oblivion myself!

“You promise?” asked
Charlotte, squeezing Adabelle’s hand tighter all of a sudden.

“If you be brave, then yes,”
Adabelle replied, “I promise.”

Charlotte smiled, and in
that smile Adabelle saw the hope of an innocent mind. She saw the hope of
someone who had not been jaded by experience, the harshness of the world, and
sometimes hurtful truths. She saw a girl who was becoming a brilliant, kind,
loving young woman. Someone who had not lost faith. Someone who would not give
up hope until the very last moment. Someone who saw her path clearly. Adabelle
envied her.

If I don’t make this, her
whole life will be shattered,
she thought. That made her final option—Oblivion—that
much more painful.

“Do you know what to do?”
asked Charlotte. “Do you have a plan.”

“No,” Adabelle replied. She
had to be honest, now of all times. “I have no idea what I’m going to do. We
just have to hope the jury isn’t filled with idiots.”

Charlotte smiled. Somehow
Adabelle’s attitude was able to raise up the girl’s spirits.

They spoke for a while
longer before the officers took Charlotte away. Adabelle was uncuffed from the
chair was escorted back to her cell. They threw her in, slammed shut the bars,
and walked away, leaving Adabelle to stand at the bars a while longer.

Charlotte,
she thought. She was being
so brave, so strong. She could tell, though, that her sister was frightened,
too. There was a very real threat that before this was all over, Adabelle would
face execution.

“How can I make sure she
stays on the right path if I ended up leaving,” she thought aloud, whispering
to herself. She turned from the bars of the cell, taking a seat on the cot that
had become her bed for the next few days while court proceedings were prepared.
Charlotte was a smart girl; surely she wouldn’t fall down any of those paths
that had plagued her thoughts only a few nights ago.

That time seems forever ago
now,
she
thought. And in many ways, it had been. Her first nights on the street, she had
been brave and strong, but nowhere near as strong as she felt now. Despite
being enclosed within the prison, sealed away from dreams by the cold metal
against her wrist and so distant from her sister, she somehow felt closer to
stopping Therron than ever before.

With that acknowledged, she
was quick to realise she had so very far to fall. So very,
very
far to
fall indeed.

Her mind played out the
scenarios in preparation.

In one, she faced Therron
with Rhene. It wasn’t possible to kill him, not in the Dream Frequencies. The
normal rules of a Sturding’s control over the Dream apparently didn’t apply in
this case. She had to take him out of the Dream. But he was crafty—he’d be expecting
a trap. He was surely strong enough to stop that. It only took one hostage for
matters to fall out of hand.

In another, she would
discover a way into Oblivion. She could drag him there with her. The question
remained was how she was to do that. She was a Sturding. The Dream world was
the real world for her, too. How could she break any rules there when there
were no rules for her to break?

There has to be a loop hole
somewhere,
she though desperately.
He can’t win! There has to be another way!

Yet the more scenarios she
had play out in her mind, she saw Therron winning, freeing himself and
continuing his dark work on the world until the end of his days.

The sides were too uneven in
this battle, the odds far outweighed in her father’s favour.

He can’t win! There must be
something I’m missing!

The court proceedings were
dull and mostly pointless. She was given a lawyer, though he was incompetent
and entirely unpractised. The representative of the victims, however—a lawyer
of great repute—was able to spin a great tale that even Adabelle believed, if
only for a moment.

Every moment Adabelle
thought she would lose to her sadness, she glanced at Rhene who sat in amongst
the audience, with Charlotte at his side. He constantly smiled at her, and that
perpetual assurance sustained her hope.

It seemed the jury was
entirely one-sided, too. The few times she overheard their conversation, she
caught whispered snatches of phrases, such as, “Count Therron will be very
pleased,” and “Lady Morphier said to disregard anything the girl says.” She had
always thought juries had to be made up of impartial figures, yet it seemed
somehow the court had managed to get as many of Therron’s sympathisers as
possible.

Detective Olin stepped
forward to ask a handful of questions about Adabelle’s relationship with
Larraine, and of her history with the University. She explained her carer in
Mrs. Abeth, and how she was sad to see her die. He questioned her, this time,
with the same disdain as he had previously, apparently certain she was guilty.

Just when it seemed the
judge was prepared to ask the jury to announce their decision, the doors to the
courtroom burst open, and a tall, thin bald man in a dark suit stepped in.

It’s him,
Adabelle thought, unable to
contain her shock.
The one who took the money.

A quick glance at the jury
confirmed her suspicions; they knew what was happening, their false shock
obvious from the melodrama of it. Adabelle had to resist rolling her eyes.

“Judge,” said Mr. Corbine.
“My name is Mr. Giles Corbine, I am a lawyer and I am here to represent Ms.
Blaise here.”

The judge blinked with
surprise. “You are rather late, sir. I do apologise but we were most of the way
through the hearing when you arrived. And besides,” he nodded to the suited man
shuffling a mess of papers, “she already has a lawyer, as provided by the
state.”

“Well I do apologise,” said
Mr. Corbine, “but I was not informed of the time of the hearing, nor anything
of that matter. I have not even had a chance to speak with my client!” He
indicated to Adabelle with a sweeping gesture. “For this very reason, I would
like to please have a private conversation with the judge and the lawyer for
the victims.”

The judge seemed caught
off-guard, while the jury looked quite calm, as if following a script.

“That is quite all right,”
said the judge, rising from his stand and taking the lawyers off to the side.
Adabelle turned suddenly to Rhene and Charlotte. Neither of them were smiling,
neither of them looked pleased.

“That’s him,” Adabelle
mouth.

“Face to the front please,
miss,” said the officer beside her.

A few minutes later, the
lawyers, the judge and Mr. Corbine returned. The judge returned to the stand.

“Jury, you may go to the
conference room to the side to discuss your decision.”

The jury nodded, leaving the
room.

Surely they can’t have made
up their mind already.

But of course they had. This
was all a script, all pre-prepared by Therron himself. He had a plan, and now
she would take the blame for his actions.

The jury returned only a
moment later. Mr. Corbine followed shortly after, his smile towards Adabelle,
looking simply predatory.

“How does the jury find Ms.
Blaise?” asked the judge.

What is this?
thought Adabelle, confused.
What did he have to say.

“We find Ms. Blaise
innocent,” said the lead member of the jury.

Adabelle’s heart seemed to
skip a beat, her entire insides twisting in on themselves.

“What?” she exclaimed, a
little more loudly than intended.

“Very good,” said the judge,
banging his gavel against the stand. “Ms. Blaise, as per arrangement with Mr.
Giles Corbine here, you will be taken into his care with your sister,
Charlotte, so as to not be a burden on the state. You may continue your life
from there.”