Night Shade (19 page)

‘It’s hardly the first time.’

‘Yes, but to be so brazen and do it here...’

‘I can’t believe you’re surprised.’ There’s a pause. ‘We should get out of here. There’s no time to deal with the mares. There will be a guard here any minute now. If the Mayor knows we witnessed this...’

‘You’re right.’ Bron reaches down to pull me up but I resist. ‘Zoe,’ he says softly, ‘if you don’t want to end up like him, we have to leave.’

I ignore him and close Dr Miller’s eyes, brushing away a loose lock of hair that’s fallen over his forehead.

‘That’s not really his body, Zoe.’

‘No,’ I say, finally standing up of my own accord. ‘But he’s really dead, isn’t he?’ I stare challengingly at them.

It’s Dante who answers first. ‘Yes.’ There’s sorrow in his eyes.

‘How can the Mayor get away with this? If you’re all working against him, how is he still in charge? Why doesn’t someone do something?’

Bron shoots a nervous look at the door. ‘Zoe, you need to keep quiet. There might already be–’

‘Because he knows who we are,’ Dante interrupts.

Bron narrows his eyes. ‘Interesting use of the word “we” there.’ He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. ‘Apart from Bigfoot here, the Mayor knows the identity of everyone in the Dreamlands.’

‘So?’

‘He doesn’t just have power here, he has power out there too. And if he knows who we are, he knows who our loved ones are. He’s made things ... difficult for people in the past.’

‘Why in hell did you tell him who you really are?’

Bron sighs. ‘It was what we did. Some Travellers would meet up in real life. It’s not easy being able to come here without being able to talk to anyone about it.’

‘Well, don’t you know who he is? Can’t you just turn the tables?’

‘We only know him as the Mayor. I guess the people close to him know his name and where he’s really from, but for us mere mortals...’ He shrugs.

I look at Dante. ‘Why didn’t you broadcast who you are like everyone else?’

Bron snorts, answering for him. ‘Because he’s an ornery bastard.’

‘So kill him,’ I say. ‘Kill the Mayor here.’

‘We’re not murderers, Zoe,’ Dante sighs. ‘It’s one thing to talk about it. It’s quite another to actually take another person’s life.’

‘Is that why you stopped working for him?’

‘I stopped working for him because I didn’t agree with his methods or his motives,’ Dante says stiffly. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’

I stare at Miller’s body. ‘How many people have to die at his hands before someone takes action?’

Dante’s lip curls. ‘You’re welcome to try. There are a few who have. They failed. There are plenty of Travellers who are on the Mayor’s side and will stop you before you get within twenty feet of him. But before you go all GI Jane, we have to get the hell out of here.’ His eyes harden. ‘Now.’

I straighten my shoulders. ‘Good idea. You go first, then you, Bron. I’ll take up the rear.’

‘Giving us orders now?’

I meet his eyes. ‘We can stay here and debate the merits of murder a bit more if you like.’

He mutters something under his breath, then he strides to the door.

‘Be careful, Zoe,’ Bron tells me. ‘You don’t want to get on Dante’s bad side any more than you want to get on the Mayor’s.’

‘Somehow, I think both those ships have already sailed.’ I give him a gentle nudge. ‘Go on.’

Thankfully, Bron is more pliable than Dante and walks away. I carefully slide the kitchen knife into a gap in the stone wall and follow them. Dante’s hand is already on the doorknob. He throws us both a grim look. ‘Ready?’

We nod. He yanks the door open and grabs the guard who’s standing with his back to us. Without even breaking sweat, Dante applies pressure to the guard’s solar plexus. His legs give way and Dante drags him inside. Then he leaves, with Bron at his heels.

I smile grimly after the pair of them, close the door and step over the prone guard’s body. I’m not leaving until I’ve done what I came here to do. I whip the hood off the first mare again, then move round the others doing the same, talking in a low, soothing voice.

‘There. It’s alright. We’ll be out of here soon.’

When I reach the last mare and take off her hood, I pause. With a shaky hand, I reach out and pat Pegasus’s muzzle. A light flickers in her eyes and she lets out a soft whinny. I’m depressed that she has been captured but I’m pleased that her spirit’s not been broken.

‘Hi, girl,’ I say.

I kneel down and fumble with the chains. I’ve just found the catch when I hear a voice behind me. ‘I might have known,’ Dante says. ‘Foolish girl.’

I don’t look up but finish freeing Pegasus, trying not to touch the wounds on her legs and neck as I remove the chains.

‘Don’t move yet, sweetheart,’ I tell her. ‘I need to get to the others first.’

Pegasus snickers in understanding. I pull out a sugar cube from my pocket and she starts munching it while I move to her neighbour.

‘That guard won’t be unconscious for long, you know,’ Dante continues.

‘Then you’d better make your escape quickly, hadn’t you?’ I say, managing this second set of chains more adroitly than the first.

He sighs. ‘I don’t know why I thought you were working for the Mayor. Even he wouldn’t have someone as crazy as you on his staff.’

I pause. ‘Yeah,’ I tell him. ‘I am crazy.’ I switch to the third mare.

I’ve just finished uncoupling her chains and giving her a sugar cube to keep her calm when I hear a clinking sound behind me. Dante grunts as he frees another mare, then he grins at me and holds out his palm. When he smiles, his face loses its predatory aspect; he almost appears friendly. I drop a sugar cube into his hand and he gives it to the animal. Four down, two to go.

‘You two will be the death of me,’ Bron says, also reappearing. He swallows, his eyes nervously darting around at the freed mares. ‘What if they attack?’

‘Here.’ I throw him a sugar cube. He holds it out to the nearest mare with an expression that suggests he’d rather drown himself than stand next to such a lethal animal. ‘Where did you get these from?’

Without thinking about it, I murmur, ‘Home.’

‘Jesus,’ he whispers. ‘You really are a dreamweaver.’

I unfasten the fifth mare’s chains while Dante completes the last one. I nod to Pegasus who throws up her head, her mane swinging in the air. She clip-clops towards me. ‘Good girl,’ I say. ‘Well done. Now get your friends to follow.’

Pegasus whinnies. The five remaining mares stare at me with differing measures of fear, hatred and hope. ‘Come on, darlings,’ I urge.

Bron hastily gets out of the way as, one by one, the mares line up behind Pegasus and start to follow.

‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’ Bron’s astonishment is palpable. He looks at Dante, whose muscular body is a mass of knotted tension. I don’t hear his response. Instead I continue leading Pegasus and her retinue forwards. We move round the corner and towards the door.

‘Wait,’ Dante growls. He edges round the mares, taking care not to touch them. Glancing carefully in my direction, he says, ‘You told me to go first, remember?’

He opens the door again and sticks out his head. ‘There are a lot of people around. They might spook the mares. This could be bad.’

‘The mares will be fine,’ I say. ‘Just keep the damn Travellers away. You too, Bron.’

Dante nods and steps out while Bron squeaks what I think is a yes. I follow Dante, with Pegasus at my heels. When I emerge, blinking, into the bright sunlight, the scene is almost comical. The first person to spot us does a double take. Her mouth opens wide as if she’s about to scream but Dante darts over and murmurs something. Others back away, pressing themselves against the stone walls of the cottages as if their reassuring sturdiness will offer protection. Someone at the end of the street sees what’s going on and, after one frozen second of indecision, sprints away.

It doesn’t take long for the news to travel. We’ve barely gone fifty feet when people start to appear from nowhere. Almost to a man, the expressions on their faces are horrified.

I glance nervously at the line of mares. I know I can trust Pegasus but I’m not so sure about the others. They may be so traumatised that they don’t care about their surroundings or maybe they just trust Pegasus. Whatever, they clop along, heads hanging to avoid making eye contact. Bron, still as nervous as a kitten, brings up the rear.

I lead my little troupe around the perimeter of the town. It means that our journey is longer but I want to avoid the town square and, as a result, an encounter with the Mayor and the Department. However, just as the black darkness of the forest looms into view, he appears.

‘What are you doing, Ms Lydon?’ he calls out from the safety of a side street.

‘Going for a walk,’ I answer, as calmly as I dare.

‘You will stop,’ he hisses, dictatorial authority seeping from every pore of his body.

I look around. Dante, who is keeping the ever-growing crowd at bay, is far enough away to not draw suspicion to himself. I turn and walk back to the end of the line where I’m closer to both Bron and the Mayor. The Mayor looks satisfied that I’m apparently following his instruction.

‘Move away, Bron,’ I mutter. ‘Don’t let him think you’re involved with this.’

Bron looks at me in panic but does as he’s told. Fortunately, the Mayor’s attention is all on me. I’ll just have to hope that Bron’s got away with it.

I doff an imaginary hat in the Mayor’s direction. Then I shout, ‘Run, Pegasus!’

I slap the rear of the last mare and all six animals take off, galloping towards the forest. There are some shrieks from the crowds around us but no one gets in the mares’ way. I watch as they reach the line demarcating the night forest from the day town. Pegasus comes to a clattering stop, waiting for the others to pass by her. She swings her head in my direction, whinnies once and follows them in.

Finally satisfied, I turn back to the Mayor. ‘Sorry,’ I say politely. ‘What were you saying?’

His cheeks are purple with anger. He can barely suppress his rage as he walks over to me and whispers in my ear. ‘And to think we could have worked together. Now I’m going to finish you.’

I pull back and smile then lift my head to the sky. I’ve only seen this happen once and I have no idea if I’ll be able to pull it off, but there’s no time like the present to give it a shot. I will myself to leave – to wake up back in the real world where there are neither mares nor Mayor.

‘Come on,’ I whisper.

‘I think, Ms Lydon,’ the Mayor hisses, ‘that you’re attempting a trick you’re not capable of yet.’

I feel my entire body tug and I smile at him once more. ‘Think again.’

A heartbeat later I really am back in my own little house.

***

I
want to grab my duvet, run into my wardrobe and hide. What I actually do is pick up the phone and call Sergeant Rawlins.

‘Ms Lydon,’ her voice says drily. ‘What a pleasant surprise. Unfortunately, I don’t yet have answers for you regarding the old man.’

‘Salib,’ I say distractedly, ‘his name was Salib.’

There’s a moment of silence before she speaks. ‘I don’t suppose you want to tell me how you know that?’

‘Later,’ I mutter. ‘I don’t think knowing his name will help you find out much about him anyway.’

‘Why do I get the feeling you have some other reason for calling?’

‘There’s a doctor, in Aberdeen, Dr Miller. He’s my doctor actually. I think he’s in trouble. I don’t know his home address, otherwise I’d call an ambulance to go there. You need to find him and see if he’s alright.’

‘I’m starting to worry about you. Are you part of some organised crime syndicate?’

She’s only half-joking. ‘Please,’ I tell her. ‘Just check him out.’

I hang up the phone and stare out of the window. Rawlins must be on night shift again. In fact, I’ve been stuck in the Dreamlands for so long that night is almost over; the sky is beginning to lighten as an insipid dawn arrives. So much for heading to the ramshackle cemetery under the cover of darkness. Now I have no choice but to go. I can’t wander back to the Dreamlands after what I’ve just done – not without getting some real answers first.

I’m not scared; I’m bloody terrified. I pick up my bag where I dropped it earlier and throw it over my shoulder. My breath is coming in short, sharp gasps. I have to conquer this. I have to.

I unfasten all the locks on my front door and open it. It’s still early enough for my little cul-de-sac to be silent and empty. I close my eyes and walk out, reaching behind to close the door. Keeping my eyes shut, I fumble with the key. I manage to lock the door, tugging at it just to be sure. I clench my fists, turn round, walk slowly down the path. It’s not until I reach the hard concrete of the pavement that I open my eyes and look around. There’s nothing sinister, no one with a gun, no one with a knife, no one at all. I’m still safe, even if I don’t feel that way.

I focus on a spot a hundred feet away, point my feet directly at it, then shut my eyes again and walk in that direction, counting in my head. When I think I’m close, I take a peek. Everything is good.

I keep walking in this manner. It’s slow and it’s ridiculous but it allows me to keep moving. The hardest part is when my house is no longer visible. At that point I almost lose it and race back to safety. Instead I pinch my fingertips, hum and concentrate on my breathing.

It takes almost two hours to reach the start of the path that leads up the cliffs to the cemetery. The later it gets, the more cars there are on the roads. Every time one goes past, I hunch and cower but I don’t stop. Even when I make it to the beach and almost collide with a woman walking a yappy little Scottie dog, I don’t scream or cry or panic; I simply move to the side and keep going. If I had a mobile phone, I’d call my mother and tell her to come and take a look at how well I’m doing but I cancelled my contract and threw the phone into a box when I stopped becoming, well, mobile.

I continue counting my steps. After a while, I stop doing it in my head and say them out loud. The sound of my own voice, especially over the frightening thunder of the waves crashing onto the beach, is reassuring. All the same, I’m relieved when I finally step onto the path and start climbing. The chances of meeting someone here are virtually nil.