Night Shade (13 page)

My mum shrugs. ‘What he did. He came round, had a cup of tea, spoke to you and did that. You never had another night terror again.’

‘That’s crazy.’

‘I’m telling you what happened.’ She searches my face. ‘Are you having bad dreams again? Is that what this is about?’

‘No, Mum, I’m fine.’ I shake my head to add weight to my words. ‘I’ve just been having a bit of trouble sleeping, that’s all. But you’re right. It doesn’t sound like what happened back then had anything to do with my agoraphobia.’ I smile. ‘I guess I was over-thinking things.’

‘You’re spending too much time on your own, Zoe. It’s not healthy.’

‘I’ll call the girls. Maybe we can have a film night or something.’

‘That’d be good. You’ve not seen your friends for so long...’

‘I’ll call them,’ I promise.

I see her out of the door, all beaming grins and happy waves. As soon as she gets into her car and drives away, however, my smile vanishes.

Who the fuck is Mr Salib and what did he really do to me?

* **

I
turn to Google, that stalwart provider of answers. There’s no trace of anyone with either the first name or surname of Salib. There are no shops, no businesses, no doctors ... nothing. I even go back to the Somnolence page and try using Salib as a password to gain entry but I’m still denied.

I bang my fist on the desk in frustration and make the Chairman, snoozing on an old beanbag in the corner, jump up, his round black pupils gazing at me in alarm. I reach over and stroke him, apologising for interrupting his sleep.

I leave the room and crouch in the hallway, at the very spot where the old man collapsed. Did he have something to do with this Salib? Is my agoraphobia linked to all this. The thought that someone deliberately caused my debilitating condition fills me with equal measures of rage and relief – rage because of the way it’s ruined my life and relief because perhaps there is a cure. Maybe I won’t be trapped here forever.

‘Stop it, Zoe,’ I mutter to myself. ‘You like this; you like the boredom. It’s safe and quiet. You don’t need a way out.’

I glance at the door, taking in its reassuring solidity. Then it suddenly rattles as someone knocks loudly.

I freeze, all at once a mess of palpitations and cold sweat. I stand up shakily and peer out of the spyhole. Frowning, I realise who it is; I’d told Dr Miller I didn’t need a damn home visit.

I unlock the bolts but keep the chain fastened and carefully open the door. The doctor smiles benevolently. ‘Zoe, how are you?’

‘Fine.’ My tone is akin to that of a sullen teenager; the doctor is a distraction that I can do without.

‘I was in the neighbourhood and thought I’d pop by and see how you’re doing.’ His breathing changes, becoming slightly heavy. I stop looking at his presence on my doorstep as an irritation and start paying attention. He’s lying but I don’t know why.

It was easy to fake it with the Mayor but that was in the Dreamlands. Here in real life it’s much harder for me to pretend. ‘As I said, I’m fine.’

‘Can I come in?’

My hands start shaking. ‘I’m – I’m not sure that would be a good idea,’ I stutter. ‘I’m not used to having strangers inside – and I’ve got work to do.’

‘I’m not a stranger, Zoe. And I’ve been inside your house before, when things were very bad.’

I clear my throat. ‘That was a long time ago.’

‘I won’t do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. Here.’ He thrusts a small bag towards the gap in the door. ‘I brought you more medication.’

For a second I forget to be scared. ‘Why?’

‘This is stronger. It might be more effective.’

Except I told him the pills he prescribed were working fine. Why would he come and give me different ones? ‘Thanks.’ I take the bag, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger as if it might bite. ‘I have to go now,’ I lie.

‘Of course, of course. Look after yourself. And do call me if you need anything.’

I nod before carefully closing the door and re-bolting it. Through the spyhole, I watch him leave, hands thrust in his pockets. He starts to whistle ‘She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain’ as if everything is hunky-dory.

I double- and triple-check the locks, telling myself that he means well and I’m being paranoid. It doesn’t work.

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.

Mahatma Gandhi

––––––––

A
shley; Bron; Dante: three people who have gone out of their way to help me and provide some answers. Except when I was with Ashley I ended up getting hit on the head and dragged to the Mayor’s jail cell. And Bron, sweet as he is, hasn’t been as helpful as he’d probably like to think. That leaves Dante.

The thought of him sends a shiver down my spine; I can’t deny there’s a part of me that’s eager to see him again. Perhaps I could just use him for information and sex. It has been a while... Then I remember his silvered, knowing eyes. He’s probably not the kind of person who lets himself be used. Still, despite his annoying methods, he has shown me quite a lot so far. Plus, even if they used to work together, the Mayor despises him now – which raises Dante a notch or two in my estimation. And there’s one thing in particular I really want to ask him.

I find him crouched in the forest, busy with something that I can’t figure out. I watch him indecisively for a moment or two

‘You do like sneaking around and spying on people, don’t you?’ he mutters, without turning round.

I’d thought I’d approached silently. Apparently not. ‘Er, I wanted to thank you,’ I say. ‘You know, for helping me out the other day and showing me the mare.’ I touch the bruise on my neck, which has all but disappeared now. ‘And for proving all this is real. Well, sort of real. You know what I mean.’

‘Go on then.’

I stare at the back of his head. ‘Huh?’

‘Thank me.’

I roll my eyes. He’s actually more annoying than I remembered. ‘Thank you.’ I curtsey behind his back, pulling out a vast imaginary skirt.

He straightens and turns. ‘What
are
you doing?’

‘Me? Nothing,’ I say innocently. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing.’

I peer round him, spotting the gleaming steel jaws of a trap. ‘You bastard! It’s you setting those things!’

He frowns angrily. ‘You’re not much of one for small details, are you?’

I gape at him. I’m better at details than anyone else he’ll ever meet. What ... oh. The trap is closed and useless. ‘You were making it safe.’

Dante gazes at me patiently. ‘As you see.’

‘Why? I thought you didn’t like the mares.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You kind of did.’

‘No. I respect them and I keep my distance from them. I don’t dislike them. In fact, I think they’re a necessary part of all this.’

I eye him warily. ‘I thought they caused nightmares. Hence, they’re mares.’

‘Why are nightmares bad?’

‘They’re not good!’

‘They allow your psyche to work through problems and resolve issues. They’re as natural as,’ he nudges the trap with his toe, ‘the mares themselves.’

‘Are they from the Badlands?’

‘Who told you that? Bron?’ There’s a sneer in his voice and I suddenly realise why he’s acting so abrasively.

‘You’re pissed off,’ I say, ‘because instead of seeking you out yesterday, I went to talk to Ashley and Bron instead.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘It’s true!’

He turns around, as if to leave.

‘Wait!’ Shit. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean...’

‘Go back to the town, Zoe. It’s clearly where you belong after all.’

‘I need some help!’

‘I’ll say,’ he mutters.

I desperately try to think of something that’ll keep him here. ‘Please?’

He turns back and looks at me assessingly. ‘What do I get out of it?’

It’s on the tip of my tongue to suggest a wild, passionate bout of lovemaking but I manage to stop myself and say something sensible. ‘The mare. Pegasus. I’ll introduce you to her so you can get to know her.’

He glowers at me. ‘Get to know a mare?’

‘Well, you did say you respected them.’

A muscle throbs in his jaw. ‘Fine,’ he snaps. ‘What do you need help with?’

‘Um...’ I scratch my head awkwardly. ‘There are a few things.’

‘Of course there are,’ he sighs. ‘Go on then.’

I go for the simple option first. ‘The statue in the square, the one that used to be Albert Hall – do you know who it is now?’

‘So that’s what changed with last night’s lightning. Interesting,’ he says slowly.

‘Why is it interesting?’

‘It’s of no matter to you,’ he says dismissively.

‘How do you know?’

He looks amused and I clench my fists. He’s not seen the new statue so even if he knows who the old man is, he won’t be able to tell me right now. It doesn’t stop me feeling exasperated at his patronising manner though.

‘Never mind.’ I move on to my next question. ‘Have we met before?’

Something sparks in his eyes. ‘Of course we have.’

My stomach turns. ‘When?’

Dante lazily reaches out and brushes the base of my neck. I flinch, then curse myself for doing so. ‘Don’t you remember?’ he drawls. ‘I did give you a little memento.’

‘Not then,’ I say, as evenly as I can. ‘When I was a kid. Maybe five years old?’

He leans back and folds his arms. ‘I didn’t come here until I was seven. And I was something of a child prodigy. How many other children have you seen around here?’

Fair point. There have been lots of people – and there were those teenagers in the pub – but I’ve not seen any kids.

‘Zoe,’ Dante asks quietly, ‘have you been here before?’

I look down. ‘Maybe.’

He reaches out to me again but this time his fingers lift my chin gently. He looks into my eyes, his expression serious. ‘When you were five?’

‘I think so. What does that mean?’

‘Probably nothing.’ His jaw tightens fractionally.

I don’t pursue it. Whether it’s important or not, it’s clear he can’t shed any light on the matter. I lick my lips. ‘What’s the password for Somnolence?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The website. Or forum. How do I log in?’

Dante looks blank. I shrug; it was a long shot anyway.

‘Is that it?’ he inquires. There’s an edge to his voice that gives me pause. Something I’ve said has alarmed him. My five-year-old self visiting? ‘One more thing.’ This is the one I’m worried about, especially after Ashley’s reaction.

‘Spit it out.’

How do I know I can really trust him? My gut instinct was to dislike him and I’ve always trusted my first impressions in the past. But I desperately want information. I take a deep breath. ‘Do you go into other people’s dreams? Into their heads? After you’ve touched them?’

His face whitens. ‘What did you just say?’

‘If – if you touch someone in real life,’ I stammer, ‘do you end up in their dreams afterwards?’

He grabs my arm. ‘Who put you up to this?’ he snarls. ‘Was it the Mayor? Bron?’

‘I ... I ...’

From somewhere in the depths of the forest, there’s a high-pitched, animal scream. It’s filled with terror and pain. Dante drops my arm and takes off. For a frozen moment I stare after him as he’s swallowed up by the familiar darkness. Then I follow.

Dante knows these woods far better than I do. Soon he’s some distance ahead of me, although it’s easy to follow because the screaming doesn’t let up. I crash through the trees and undergrowth, my heart thudding. Whatever is going on feels very, very wrong.

No matter how hard I try, it’s almost impossible to move with much speed. Weaving in and out of the trees isn’t easy and the cold brushes I receive from the bark when I inadvertently touch some of them make me stumble several times.

The closer I get, the more anguished the screeching seems to be. It sets my teeth on edge and I feel the goosebumps on my skin. But those sensations are nothing compared to the steel hand that grips my heart when the screaming stops abruptly.

I catch up with Dante. He’s standing in a clearing, his arms loosely by his sides and his gaze fixed on the ground.

‘What is it?’ I ask, breathing heavily.

He doesn’t answer so I crouch down to take a closer look. I draw back, then I lean down and gingerly prod the dark streak. I sniff my fingers – and my fears are confirmed.

‘Blood.’ There’s a trail of it for a few feet across the forest floor before it disappears. ‘There’s not a lot,’ I say quietly. ‘That’s something at least.’

Dante still doesn’t speak. I’m about to stand up when something catches my eye. I hiss softly and pick it up, twirling it in my fingers: it’s a small piece of frayed rope. I hold it up so Dante can see it. His expression turns even grimmer.

‘Are there other creatures in this forest besides the mares?’

He shakes his head.

‘Do other Travellers come here?’

‘Rarely.’

I think of the cowboy I saw him with the first night. ‘What about your friend? The one who was able to control when he left?’

‘Rob? No, he sticks to the other side of the woods when he ventures in. Anyway, I’ve not seen him for several nights. He’s probably staying in town.’

‘Would an outlier...?’ I don’t finish my question; I can already see Dante’s eyes telling me no. ‘So the only thing that makes any sense is that another Traveller was here.’ My fingers tighten round the scrap of hemp. ‘And they were here to hurt and capture a mare.’

He turns away. ‘So it would seem.’

There’s a painful lump in my throat. ‘Why would someone do that?’

‘Because they want the same kind of power that you have.’ His voice hardens. ‘Or that you say you have.’

I frown. ‘Eh?’

He doesn’t answer me. Confound the man and his enigmatic statements. But there are more important things to worry about. ‘We might be able to catch up to them.’ I point at the ground. ‘There’s still enough of a trail to follow and they’ll be moving slowly because they’ll have the mare with them.’

‘Zoe, there’s not just one person doing this, there will be several. What are you planning to do if you find them? Scowl at them till they give in?’

‘It’s better than doing nothing!’ I stride off. I barely make it three feet, however, when I’m halted in my tracks by the sound of slow clapping.