Dark Angel 03: Broken Dream (15 page)

‘Let me spell it out in plain English,’ Charlie murmured. ‘It’s not me Macy is in love with, it’s Jack.’

‘That thought did occur to me,’ I whispered back. Don’t smile like that, I thought. Don’t make that dimple. And don’t stroke my cheek with the pad of your thumb – that feels way too nice.

‘Me – Charlie Speke – I’m nobody, remember. I come way down Macy’s list.’

‘She’s always worshipped Jack; she doesn’t deny it.’

‘Right. I’m a lame stand-in.’

‘And how about you? Do you care about Macy?’

No reply at first, but he did it again – he gave me the killer smile. ‘Watch out for Macy,’ he told me. ‘Don’t buy into everything she tells you.’ Then he drew me even closer. His features blurred; I melted into those magical eyes.

When he kissed me and held me in his arms, for a moment I wasn’t the lonely figure lost in the snow.

His lips were on mine, he gathered me up and carried me to the bed. My arms were still around his neck as we fell back on to the crimson cover.

‘Wait,’ I said. ‘I want to explain.’

He kissed my neck, started to unbutton my shirt. ‘Don’t talk.’

‘It’s about why Orlando and I fought in the first place,’ I said. I had some fuzzy idea that if I told Charlie about my connection to the spirit world and how that complicated my situation with Orlando, how it meant I was always on the run trying to avoid the forces of darkness, then Charlie would understand this the way he understood everything else about me. He might even be there at my side the next time my dark angel chose to strike.

‘I don’t care.’ He pressed me down on the bed, and as he went on kissing me, I started to want him back.

Then suddenly, without any warning, I panicked. ‘No, wait. This isn’t me. I’m not this kind of girl.’ Now I was the cheesy one whose words were letting her down. And they didn’t convey how close I actually was to becoming the kind of girl I meant. Lucky for me, somewhere deep in my brain, as my body longed to respond to Charlie’s touch, my old sense of right and wrong kicked in.

‘Don’t fight it,’ he whispered. Lips everywhere – on my face, my neck.

I fought against my own longing. ‘Charlie, stop.’ Somewhere I found the strength to push him away. ‘What are we doing?’

He rolled and I sprang breathlessly from the bed, dragging the satin throw with me.

‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this.’

He lay for a while, staring up at the ceiling. Then he took a deep breath and stood up, walked to the window and stared out at the night sky. ‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said calmly and without looking at me.

‘We can still be friends, can’t we?’

‘I’m the one who’s sorry – in ways you can’t understand.’ Now he turned towards me and slipped back in his old role of caring caped crusader. ‘Sorry that I read it wrong, Tania – I thought there was a connection.’

‘There is,’ I said quickly, only just stopping myself from falling into the corny ‘I really like you’ routine.

‘And I apologize for choosing that moment,’ he continued. ‘You were vulnerable. I shouldn’t have put you under pressure.’

‘You didn’t. It’s OK. Let’s forget it.’

Slowly Charlie smiled.

‘Don’t,’ I pleaded.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t smile at me.’

‘OK, I won’t.’ He made a serious face. ‘Better?’

I took a deep breath then let out an embarrassed laugh. I had to get out of this room before I did or said anything else stupid so I clutched my shirt across my chest and headed for the door.

‘So we’re OK?’ he checked. ‘You won’t let this come between us. You’ll be on set tomorrow as planned?’

‘I’ll be there,’ I promised. I was out in the corridor, getting lost in a dimly lit, carpeted maze, following the sounds of a party – swing tunes on the piano, people laughing, doors opening and closing.

‘So I won’t be back tonight,’ I told Dad half an hour later, when I’d got over the episode with Charlie and called home.

Orlando’s truck was gone from the parking lot. I’d seen neither him nor Gwen since the gut-wrenching argument by the ski-lift terminal.

‘Where will you stay?’ he asked.

‘Here at the lodge. It’s no problem – they gave me a room. Charlie fixed everything.’

‘Who is Charlie?’

I explained and told him not to worry.

‘I worry,’ he argued. ‘But not about this Charlie guy.’

‘About me and Orlando?’

‘Where did he go? Did he give reason?’

‘We had a fight. Now he’s not answering his phone. That’s all I can tell you.’

There was a long silence during which I could almost hear Dad’s brain clicking into overdrive. ‘Don’t leave hotel,’ he said finally. ‘Stay safe.’

‘I will,’ I promised. ‘Oh, and Macy’s here too. Don’t worry, we’re both cool.’

‘Call me tomorrow morning, early.’

‘OK, Dad, someone’s knocking at my door. Got to go.’ I came off the phone to find Macy standing in the corridor. Her eyes were red and mascara was streaked down her cheeks. ‘Don’t tell me – you and Charlie—’

‘Can you believe it – he finished with me!’ she wailed, stumbling into my room and flopping on to the bed. ‘I don’t get it. One minute we’re dancing and having fun, next thing I know he disappears. Eventually I go to his room looking for him. The throw is pulled from the bed, the window’s open and the moonlight’s flooding in but he’s not there. I go back to the party. Jack’s shown up and everyone’s sucking up to him, offering to buy him drinks. I’m about to ask if he’s seen Charlie lately when Angela grabs hold of him, and I
mean
“grab”. She sticks an elbow in my ribs and tells me to back the hell off – I’m not even interested in Jack any more, if only she knew. I’m in a corner calling her names and licking my wounds when finally Charlie arrives.’

The express train of Macy’s voice slowed down at last and she let her head drop forward. A sob rose in her throat.

‘What did he say?’ My own voice trembled from her mention of the bedcover. How much had Charlie told Macy about my visit to his room?

‘Nothing. Zero, zilch. He acts like I’m not there.’

‘So what did you do?’ I hardly had to ask. I could just imagine Macy striding across the bar in her red micro skirt and jingling ankle boots, her hair all aflame, ready to resume.

‘I wait until he’s finished talking with Natalia then I ask him to dance. That’s all.’ Rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand, she only managed to smudge more mascara down her cheeks. ‘He doesn’t say anything – it’s all in the look.’

‘Nothing? Not a word.’

‘The look says “Do I even know you?” Then he turns his back and orders another drink.’ The memory was too much – Macy’s voice broke and her body shook with sobs.

‘That doesn’t sound like something he’d do.’ Even though I’d recently experienced a new facet of Charlie’s character, I hadn’t expected him to cut her dead. I’d thought at least he would let her down more gently. Then again, no way would I have predicted the move he’d just made on me.

‘What did I do wrong?’

‘Nothing. Charlie always knew it wasn’t going anywhere, but you didn’t realize that, I guess. I’m sorry.’

Sniffing loudly, Macy scrubbed at her face with a tissue she took from her purse. ‘Thanks, Tania. And I’m sorry too. Here’s me falling apart over Charlie when the focus should be all on you, after what you’ve been through. Orlando and Gwen – did they show up yet?’

‘Yeah,’ I admitted. ‘But let’s just say we still don’t have a ride back to Bitterroot.’

‘We don’t?’

‘No, the truck’s missing from the car park. Orlando found out that Gwen doesn’t have a job here any more so I guess he drove her back to Aspen, to the airport.’

‘And how are you doing?’

‘Don’t even ask.’ The effects of the alcohol Charlie had given me had long ago worn off, leaving me feeling sour-mouthed, flat and empty.

‘Are you angry with him?’

‘No. I’m just kind of numb. All I want to do is see him, talk through this, work out where we go next.’

‘Good luck with that.’ Macy kicked off her boots then picked them up as she headed for the door. ‘Pity you can’t do some magic here – commune with your spirits and get them to do nasty things to Gwen.’

I smiled weakly. ‘Yeah, unfortunately it doesn’t work like that.’

‘You know – do a deal with your dark angel mugger, get him to scare Gwen off big time. Couldn’t he shape-shift into some kind of monster and gobble her up?’

‘Which would really make Orlando love me lots!’ I knew Macy was doing her best to lighten the mood but actually it was having the opposite effect and I was toppling from that icy ledge into a pit of despair. ‘I think I’ll stick with my original plan of waiting for him to show up and talking it through.’

‘You need to sleep,’ she advised. ‘Tomorrow it’ll look different – better maybe.’

I thanked her, feeling relieved when the door finally closed behind her and I could take off my clothes and curl up under the sheets.

By now my head was aching and my stomach churned – again, thanks to Charlie and the St Bernard moment by the ski lift.

It passed through my mind that alcohol had been at the core of his plan to get me into bed. What did this remind me of? I tossed and turned until it came to me: drink had played a major role in Zoran Brancusi’s Heavenly Bodies celebrations at Black Eagle Lodge. The morning after his party, Holly and I had felt this same way – hungover and dazed, with huge gaps in our understanding about what had happened the night before. Likewise the birthday party for Antony Amos at New Dawn, when Channing and the rest had performed their shape-shifting tricks.

Stop. What was I doing comparing Charlie to dark angel seducers like Daniel on Black Rock and Jarrold at New Dawn? This just showed you what happened when you had too much contact with the dark side – you begin to suspect even the best people.

I sat up and put on the light to clear my head. On the bedside table my cell phone told me I had a new message from Charlie:
How r u doing? Did Orlando make contact? Sorry I lost control earlier. Do u forgive me?

I texted to tell him no then yes, turned off the light, tried to sleep.

I stand on a ledge. Below me is a deep crevasse. Above my head, angels are at war, eclipsing the sun. A million light years away stars explode and die
.

I am alone on a high snowy peak. My ledge gives way under my feet; I fall for what feels like for ever between ice cliffs, away from the light. I am in darkness at the bottom of the crevasse, crawling on hands and knees towards a dim blue light. A tunnel opens out into an underground ice cave, glowing like blue glass. Icicles hang from the roof, sharp as knives. Ice sheets crack and groan, the cavern floor splits then gives way and I fall again.

I am sliding towards the dark centre of the earth, reaching out. There is nothing to hold on to.

Ice gives way to rock. I hear pickaxes, the rumble of carts along steel tracks, the distant call of men’s voices. When I try to cry out, no sound comes from my mouth.

Miners swing their pickaxes and hack into the rock, their faces lined with fatigue, caked with dirt and sweat. They crouch and crawl along, coughing dust from their lungs, praying that pit props will hold, that the weight of the mountain above will not crush them.

I too crawl and cough. I pray.

Hell is all around.

A creature blocks my way. He is on all fours, with a man’s head and torso, but the limbs and lower body are massive and bear-like. His brown eyes shine bright in the darkness. When he opens his mouth and snarls, I see sharp canine teeth strong and long enough to tear me apart.

The mouth opens then snaps shut. He creeps towards me.

I am choked by dust. It is in my nostrils, my mouth, my throat. Rocks fall but the beast keeps coming. His foul breath is on me; a boulder blocks my retreat.

There is nowhere for me to run
.

I woke up in terror, unable to catch my breath. I turned on the light to make sure that the creature was not in the room. I still felt his breath, saw his piercing eyes.

For me there is no border between sleep and wakefulness. The dark forces can step from nightmare into reality and however hard I run I can’t shake them off. They are dragging me to the dark depths of hell.

Larry King looked worried. He had five short days in Mayfield to shoot the final scenes for his
Siege
sequel and day one had got off to a bad start.

‘What do you mean, Jack’s still in bed?’ he demanded when a runner gave him the news. ‘Lucy, Tania, Macy – anybody – go tell him to get his ass out here!’

Macy and I were shivering on the mountain along with fifty members of the crew plus extras, including a couple of the good-looking bartenders from the night before. Rocky was in costume, ready for action. Even Angela the Vamp had hauled herself out of somebody’s bed, made it to the make-up trailer by six a.m. and was standing by.

‘Tania, go knock on his door,’ the assistant director ordered. ‘Find Natalia. Tell her Jack is costing us money.’

I didn’t want to go back to the hotel. What if Orlando put in an appearance here on the set and I missed him?

‘Don’t worry, I’ll text you if he shows up,’ Macy read my mind.

So I walked quickly down the slope, past the ski-lift terminal where I’d last seen Orlando, between the rows of trees lit up for Christmas and on into the main hotel lobby with its tall tree glittering with silver baubles, bearskin rugs on the floors and glassy-eyed elk heads staring down from the walls. Luckily this is where I ran into Natalia with Adam and Phoebe, all dressed up for a morning’s ski instruction.

‘Wait here with Tania,’ she told them after I’d passed on Larry’s message, and she disappeared into the elevator.

‘Daddy’s sick,’ Phoebe told me sadly. She was all in red, with white furry trim and big white mittens. ‘He was angry with Mommy and said bad words.’

Adam looked straight ahead without saying anything.

‘Maybe he’s better now,’ I told Phoebe quietly. As it happened, I was still feeling queasy myself, putting it down to a combination of alcohol and anxiety about Orlando, who still wasn’t answering his phone.
Please come back!
were the three words constantly repeating themselves and drilling holes in my brain.