Visioness (16 page)

“You may leave whenever you
wish, sir,” Matthon said. “You are not a prisoner here. You can be free of the
demons that bound you. And from here you can grow as a person, free from that
which once burdened you.”

“But it was no burden!”
cried the man. “It was wonderful! Beautiful! In there I could see my wife and
my child! I can’t see them anywhere else! And you’ve taken that from me!” Tears
in the man’s eyes, his face turning red. Rhene couldn’t help but feel sorry for
the man. But he was better off this way. This way he couldn’t ever hurt anyone,
or kill anyone, or—heaven forbid—infiltrate anyone else’s mind.

“That’s all I used my powers
for,” he said, looking to the heavens. “Forgive me, Renee. Forgive me, my
love!”

“Enjoy your peace,” Matthon
said, indicating to the door. “You may leave now.”

Rhene poured himself a cup
of hot tea, as was his routine. Whenever facing a Snapping, he felt exhausted
afterwards, almost like the glowing emerald was able to sap his own strength
away. Then again, he wasn’t the only one who felt tired. He knew for a fact
that Dreamless Matthon nearly always needed a nap afterwards. Ferrant didn’t
normally need to rest, but after the shock of the man coming to so suddenly,
he’d needed a moment to calm himself down.

Rhene’s room was tiny, with
a bed, a wardrobe, a bookshelf and a desk, with the window just large enough to
let air in. It wasn’t a particularly pretty room, or even that comfortable to
live in, but it was a room and it was better than being on the streets. So long
as he worked for the Dreamless, they were happy to give him free food and
lodgings, so he was quite content to go on as normal. He settled down onto the
bed and enjoyed simply resting. It had been quite some time since he had been allowed
a moment to himself.

A knock at the door startled
him from his resting, making him jump suddenly out of bed. He shot to his feet
and ran to the door, not realising he’d left half of the blankets from his bed
on the floor.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Me,” said Dreamless
Matthon, Rhene recognising the voice instantly. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” Rhene replied,
opening the door and stepping aside to allow the man in.

Dreamless Matthon was older
than Rhene, with tanned skin, brown hair, broad shoulders. Where Rhene was
thin, Matthon was a thick, strong man, a full beard cultivated tightly around
his square jaw, brown eyes set deeply under dark brows.

“How are you, Rhene?” he
asked. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” He nodded to the sheet spread
across the floor.

“No, I was just lying down.
Must have started dozing when you knocked and it just shocked me.”

“Well anyway, the reason I
am here is because I have some news. It is not meant to be known yet, because
of secrecy and whatnot, but I wanted to tell you now to prepare you.” He
paused. Rhene assumed it was for dramatic effect, and little else. “As I’m sure
you’re aware, we had about ten of our recruits apply for the General position.”

“Yes,” Rhene replied,
feigning nonchalance. In truth, deep down, he was bursting with excitement. He
knew exactly what was coming next.

“Well I’m here to
congratulate you, soldier,” Matthon said, extending his hand. “You’re being
promoted to general.”

Rhene managed to contain his
excitement, but could not fight a smile. “Thank you, sir,” he said, shaking the
Dreamless’ hand. “Thank you so much.”

“You’ve earned it,” Matthon
said, “and it’s times like these we need men and women like you more than ever.
The Oen’Aerei are gaining power. I’m assuming you’ve heard about the girl from
the University who died?”

“Of course,” Rhene replied.
He’d read about it in the papers that morning. The vagueness of the article
suggested the Oen’Aerei were involved—no one dared insult those who could enter
others’ minds—but nothing was ever really certain.

“And the girl was a Dreamer,
too,” Matthon said, “I don’t wish to see innocent people killed because of the
Oen’Aerei.”

“Absolutely not,” Rhene
replied.

“And that is why I believe
it is time we begin preparing, well-and-truly, for war. Things are only going
to get worse. Decades of our existence because of the deeds of a single man,
and the moment has finally come to act upon our charge.” Matthon smiled. “And I
am proud to have you at my side for this battle.”

“As am I,” Rhene replied.

“So tomorrow morning at nine
is the promotion assembly. I’ll make the announcement tonight at dinner, but
make sure your uniform is clean and pressed. You’ll want to look your best for
the photographer.”

“I will, sir,” Rhene
replied.

“Very good, then,” Matthon
said. “I’ll let you get some rest. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Sure enough, at dinner, the
dining hall fell silent when Dreamless Matthon stepped up to the podium to
speak.

“Good evening, soldiers,” he
said, speaking into the microphone, though his voice carried well enough
without it. “It is my pleasure to announce that tomorrow at nine in the
morning, there will be a promotion ceremony in the Great Hall. I expect
everyone to be present in their uniforms, and I wish to advise that anyone who
was interviewed for this position should seat themselves at the very front of
the Hall. There will be seats allocated to you, so I do ask you sit in those
set aside for you.”

Dreamless Matthon paused
before the podium, glancing down for a moment, as if for a second he held some
hesitation over that which he was about to speak.

“Now on a rather serious
matter, it may come as no surprise to you that the Oen’Aerei are indeed growing
in power. Many of you, I’m sure, have seen the news reports of recent. Of the
girl who died at the University. There a very few details that have been
released as of yet, but I am almost certain the Oen’Aerei are involved. Whether
directly, or indirectly, I do not think it matters.”

Around the room, Dreamless
soldiers nodded, enraptured by Matthon as he spoke.

“I believe that now is the
time for us to strike. Now is the time for us to prepare for war. We have
waited over twenty years to gain an army strong enough to take down the
Oen’Aerei. They have grown weak and lazy in their time without opposition, with
our group only able to harry them from afar. But we are an army now, well and
truly, and I believe with utter conviction that we can face these monsters head
on. Now is the time to gather our rank and to prepare to march.”

That statement was met by roars
of applause, and cheering and foot-stomping. The ground shook with the force of
the support. The war would come quickly. And he would be there at the front
line, leading his troops into battle.

It stoked a fire in his
heart and brought a smile to his face. Down with the Oen’Aerei, down with the
Somnetii, and up, up, up with the Dreamless.

Rhene lay restless in bed,
unable to get comfortable in any position whatsoever. First, he’d been too hot,
at which point he’d opened his window. Then, he’d gotten too cold, forcing him
under the covers. But there was too warm, leading him to rest with a foot
sticking out the bottom of the bed, and his head resting on his arms as he
stared towards the ceiling.

General,
he thought.
I’m going to
be a general!

His mother and father would have
been so proud, were they here to see him. But they were gone, and even he could
not bring them back.

The night his parent’s died
came to him as clearly and brilliantly as if he was seeing it again for the
first time. His parents tucked him into bed. They kissed him and wished him a
good night and sweet dreams. But there would be no dreams that night. Not sweet
ones at least.

Screams had stirred him.
Like a fish pulled up by a fisherman, Rhene suffocated as he emerged from his
dream, unable to breath for the shock. There had been a smell in the air in the
dream. Cologne of some kind. He remembered that much clearly enough.

The screaming had come from
his parents’ room, and he’d gotten out of his bed to check that they were okay.
Only five at the time, the shadows of the night held monsters, so he kept to
the parts of the hallway illuminated by the moon as to avoid the monsters. He
had not known that monsters could hide in one’s own mind, too.

He stopped before his
parents’ room, the door shut. He knew not to go in if the door was shut, but
when people screamed, he assumed that rule could be broken. He’d opened the
door and found his parents on the bed, lying on their backs, facing the
ceiling.

“Mama, papa?” he asked, as
he stepped further into the room. A bedside candle was lit, but the light
seemed odd. Darker. Redder.

He pulled himself up onto
the bed, beside his father, whose eyes stared into the distance, his chest
punctured by a knife-wound, blood dying his pyjamas. A quick glance at his
mother, and he saw she was much the same.

He could still see the depth
of the cut so clearly in his mind’s eye, and the bruises around her wrist from
where she had fought. Having grown older, a part of him wondered whether
thought bruises were from a slightly different fight, but he did not wish to
remember his mother that way. He needn’t know what her last minutes of life
contained. She was gone, and when the police had investigated, they found an
Oen’Aerei involved. They could see no other way. A Sturding had found his way
into the house, caused what damage he could, before leaving through his own
mind.

Yet that scent still
remained, so memorable. So painfully strong. It was like shaving cream; that
smell, but muskier. And there had been music. A lullaby of some kind, though
he’d tried his best to forget that haunting tune.

In his thinking, Rhene had
not noticed he’d fallen asleep and begun to dream. He dreamt of night of his
parents’ death, of the scent and the music now oddly clear.

No,
he thought, feeling oddly
lucid.
I do not want to see this.

And it disappeared. He was
elsewhere, in the city, and in amongst the crowd he saw faces he recognised.
There was Ferrant, though he seemed entirely out of place screaming about a
fire. There were other odd things about this dream. He felt like the edges, if
he went towards them, would disappear, and he’d find himself elsewhere
entirely. And he did not know why.

Rhene felt an odd sense of
fear in his stomach as he saw Matthon walking amongst the crowd.

“I don’t think I want to be
here,” he said, and the city faded, and he was in darkness. The people
disappeared, the sights, sounds and smells fading. All but one.

Matthon was still there, and
he seemed entirely shocked at the disappearance of the scenery and the people.
He looked about, confused, and saw Rhene.

“Rhene?” he said.

“Matthon?” Rhene replied,
though Matthon was already gone, lost to the shadows.

“Matthon!” Rhene repeated,
following after him. As he expected, the boundaries of the dream blurred and he
found himself in another scene. It was a meadow, and in it, two people lay.
Rhene ignored them, for Matthon was there, too. It seemed the couple had
decided to ignore them both, too.

Rhene,
Matthon mouthed. A tense
pause passed between the pair, and then Matthon turned and disappeared again.
Rhene considered following, but thought better of it.

A strange, tripping
sensation caught him, and he felt like he was falling. He was torn from the
dream, woken in his room, and thrown against the wall by a figure shrouded in
shadow.

“I’ve never been on a date
before,” Adabelle said, as she stood over her bed, staring at all of her
dresses.

Charlotte stood beside her,
biting her thumb in thought. “Well I suppose it isn’t something that happens every
day.”

“Yes, but what should I
wear?”

She felt silly, going on
this date. She was still waiting to receive a letter from Rhene with the time
and place of the date, but she wanted to be prepared. She didn’t even know how
well she was meant to be dressed! Would a nice summer dress do, or did she need
a ball gown? So many questions, so many silly thoughts, and all of them about a
boy.

“You’re overthinking it,”
Charlotte said, crossing the room to seat herself on her own bed. “You need to
stop worrying. He wouldn’t have asked you out if he thought he wasn’t
interested.”

“I suppose you’re right,”
Adabelle said, not without some hesitance.

“So there, stop worrying.
You’re being silly.”

Adabelle quickly glanced
over the dresses, wondering whether she ought to get a haircut, too. It
was
getting quite long. But she could manage it! Couldn’t she?

“I wish mama was here,” she
whispered. “She’d know what to do now.”

Charlotte didn’t seem to
hear her, as she said nothing in response. Adabelle turned around, to find her
staring out the window. It seemed despite the cloud cover, the sun still
managed to shine through. Her comment gave Adabelle an idea, though.

“I’m going to visit Mrs.
Abeth,” said Adabelle, pulling a blue coat off a hanger in her wardrobe. “She
might have an idea.”

She walked brusquely down
the hall, not really watching where she was going when she bumped into Mrs.
Abeth.

“Just the person I wanted to
see,” they both said in unison, and then laughed. Mrs. Abeth had a note in her
hand, and proffered it to Adabelle.

“Telegram arrived this
morning,” she said, smiling knowingly.

Adabelle read it.

Adabelle,

If you would like, we can go
for dinner tomorrow night, and then I want to take you to one for my favourite
spots. If you would like to do this, please reply. I’ll collect you from the
University at 7. Dress warm.

Rhene.

“So who’s the boy?” Mrs.
Abeth asked, in an entirely too girlish voice.

“You read it?” Adabelle
asked, slightly hurt.

“Well, yes. While you’re in
danger, I think it’s only safe to do so. It is in your best interests.”

“True enough,” Adabelle
replied, shrugging.

Mrs. Abeth stood there
expectantly, while Adabelle folded the letter.

“Well?” asked Mrs. Abeth.

“Oh, who is he? His name is
Rhene and he comes into the café on occasion.” She paused. “I don’t think I
know much else aside from that.” She took a moment, sweeping her memory. “Oh,
he’s very handsome.”

Mrs. Abeth laughed, rolling
her eyes. “Well so long as he’s handsome,” and then she chuckled again. “So why
did you need to see me?”

“Well it’s about the date. I
don’t know what to wear.”

Mrs. Abeth stepped to the
side of the hall, to allow for some students to pass. She leaned slightly
against the wall, thinking. “Well he said wear something warm, but on the same
hand, you want to look pretty. Um…you have that yellow dress, don’t you?”

“Yes, but it’s a summer
dress. He said dress warm!”

“Well what about that blue coat
you have. The double-breasted one. Those…and a hat.”

Adabelle’s brow furrowed.
“But it will be night-time.”

“But everyone looks good in
a hat. The white one with the pink ribbon. That one. Besides, you don’t have
time to get your hair done, so you might want to hide that mess somehow.”

She had a fair point,
Adabelle thought, reflexively reaching up to touch the lengths of black.

“Wear that and he’ll fall
for you straight away.” Mrs. Abeth smiled, nodding, apparently quite proud of
her decision. “Now I’m sorry, but I really must get back to work. Lots to do
today.”

“Thank you,” Adabelle said,
watching as she left the other way down the hall.

The morning after, she went
to work in the café, though Rhene had apparently decided not to go today. He
didn’t show up for his lunch, or even for a coffee. Her and Georgette spent
most of their time at the steamer, watching people bustle in and out,
constantly working. Between busy spells, when they found a chance to breathe,
Georgette asked hypothetical questions about the date that night.

“If you go somewhere you
don’t like, do you still eat the food?” she asked, as she powdered a coffee
with cocoa.

“I don’t know,” Adabelle
replied, eyes glancing about the air, as she deliberated that possibility.
She’d never really considered that before. She really wasn’t that well prepared.

Georgette handed a cup to a
waiting customer, bidding him a good day. “And what about if he turns out to be
horrible, and you can’t get rid of him.”

“We’ll face that conundrum
when we meet it,” she said, quietly considering Rhene’s character. He seemed
like such a fine young lad; she really doubted that he’d turn out to be a bore,
or horrible. She imagined a gentleman, who was kind and caring, and a good
kisser, too. She’d never been kissed before. She wondered whether she’d be any
good at it. She felt herself blush at the thought, pushing aside any of those
notions, both out of embarrassment and out of a desire to stifle any
expectations. If she had none for the night, then she wouldn’t be disappointed.

She wouldn’t have minded a
kiss goodnight, though. That would have been nice.

“And if he takes you back to
his house?” she asked, whispering a little so as to avoid customers hearing.

Adabelle fumbled with the
coffee grinder, unable to stop her eyes from widening as large as they did. She
returned to the grinding, silent. Perhaps if she pretended she didn’t hear, she
wouldn’t have to answer.

“Well?” Georgette stopped
with her steaming milk, waiting expectantly.

“I don’t think that would
happen,” Adabelle said. “Besides, never done anything like that. I don’t think
I’m ready.” Her breathing suddenly became laboured, her face turning hot. “What
if I do, though?” She slammed the grinder on the bench, drawing looks from
everyone around her. “Oh, God,” she whispered, “what if he does?”

Georgette’s gaze moved from
Adabelle to the customers, and then to Ben, who was eavesdropping from the
counter. Adabelle looked from Georgette, and turned slowly to the customers.
Most of them had returned to their lunch, but a handful were staring.

“Is she okay?” asked a woman
at the counter, presently handing over a handful of notes.

Ben, who was unusually sober
in his response, said, “She’s got a date tonight. I think she’s nervous.”

“Ben!” Adabelle snapped.

“Well you do,” Ben laughed.

“But they don’t need to know
that!” She threw a gesture at the people seated at the table, keeping her voice
low enough to remain unheard.

Then she saw him, at the
very front of the line. Rhene. He was smiling at her, his dark hair slicked
back. His shoulders were welcomingly broad, like they screamed to be embraced,
his arms just the right length to wrap all the way around her and keep her safe
and warm. He had shaved today, his jawline clean and smooth. It made him look
younger than he had appeared previously.

She realised she was
staring, and quickly returned to winding the crank on the grinder.

“How are you today, Adabelle?”
he asked, moving from the register to a space on the other side of the steamer
machine.

“I’m am well thanks, Rhene.
You?”

“Good, good,” he nodded,
perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Are you…erm…excited about tonight?”

“I am, thanks.” Her discussion
with Georgette from earlier ran through her mind suddenly, forcing out a
question. “Where…are we going?”

“Now, now,” he said, smiling
coolly. “I can’t give away that. It’s a surprise. Just dress warmly.”

She thought about the dress
at home, and the coat. “I have a dress and a coat…will that be enough.”

“Quite enough,” he laughed.
His gaze moved from her eyes, to the steamer machine and then to the floor, all
in quick succession. He appeared to be sweating a little. Was he nervous? No!
He couldn’t be!

“Well I’ll go grab a seat
before I lose one,” he said, leaving her to sit by the window. He again faced
the counter, but unlike last time, he kept his gaze on Adabelle. She brought
his lunch over, sitting it before him with a sweet smile.

“There’s an extra pot of the
chutney there for you,” she said, pointing at the plate. “I know you like it.
I’ve noticed you nearly always finish it before all your meal is done.”

He glanced down at his
plate, smile widening. “Oh, thank you. That’s so nice.”

Adabelle just giggled,
perhaps a little too loudly. She then settled herself, nodded, and returned to
her station.

Well saying you watch him
eat only sounds slightly stalker-ish I suppose,
she thought, replaying the exchange in
her mind.

She watched from afar as
Rhene ate his lunch, apparently not as hungry as usual. He left some of the
salad behind on his plate. As he rose, he called out, “I’ll see you tonight,”
before leaving. Adabelle waved in reply.

“So that’s your date?” asked
a voice from behind. Adabelle leapt in surprise, nearly dropping the coffee
grinder
again.

It was Anna. “He’s quite
nice, isn’t he,” she said.

“Anna! Erm…yes. He is.
Thank. You.”

She wished people would stop
making her fumble.

“If I were twenty years
younger…” she said, leaving the thought for Adabelle to finish. She then
returned to her little office out the back.

She finished her work for
the day, rushing home on the tram so as to get ready for her date tonight. She
hoped it wasn’t too late a night; she had Larraine’s funeral tomorrow
afternoon, and she had to get Aunt Marie from the hospital. It was rare a
patient in her condition would be allowed to leave, but in cases like this, it
was allowed.

She reached into her
wardrobe, pulling out the yellow dress. It was a golden, sunshine yellow, like dandelions,
and the coat a deep ocean blue. She bathed, washing her hair, and brushed it
out. She dried, dressed and picked out a nice, comfortable pair of blue velvet
shoes, to match the coat. She then donned the cloche hat, white with a pink
silk ribbon around it. She stood before her mirror, head tilted to the side
slightly, as if warping her orientation helped to take in all of her outfit.
She looked quite pretty, really, the yellow bringing out the brown of her eyes,
the darkness of her hair.

A knock at the door shook
her from her self-examination. She called out, “Who is it?”

“Mrs. Abeth,” replied the
housekeeper. Adabelle rushed to the door, pulling it open.

Mrs. Abeth’s eyes widened at
the sight of Adabelle, her gaze passing up and down, grin broadening all the
while.

“You look…beautiful.” She
hesitated, taking a step in the room. “Just like your mother,” she whispered,
tears flowing to her face. “I wanted to bring you this,” she said, lifting up a
small, crystal spray bottle of perfume. The name had long rubbed off, the air
pump faded and scratched with age.

“What is it?” she asked,
taking it from Mrs. Abeth.

“It was your mother’s
favourite perfume,” she said. “You can’t get it any more, but I’ve been able to
save this. It hasn’t gone bad, somehow.”

Adabelle sprayed it,
sniffing the air. The slightly familiar, strangely nostalgic scent smelled of
vanilla. It was warm and welcoming and sweet, and with each breath she took,
she saw he mother more clearly. The fabric of her dress as she embraced her
close when she was scared, the tickling touch of her ebony locks as she’d lean
down to kiss her goodnight, her loving goodbye as she left her on the steps of
the University.

“Mama,” she whispered.

“She’d like you to wear it,”
Mrs. Abeth said, closing the door. “She’d be so very proud if she could see you
now. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

Adabelle blushed, her cheeks
turning warm. “Thank you, Mrs. Abeth. That means so much.” She gripped the
perfume close to her heart.

“Well good luck tonight,”
she said. “I hope he’s a gentleman to you.”

“I’m sure he will be.”

Adabelle waited outside the
University, feeling odd just standing there on the corner of the street, hands
over the small handbag hanging over her shoulder. The wind had softened with the
oncoming of evening, but the coat was a welcome addition what with the gentle
chill of the Odilla night.