Visioness (10 page)

It was
Therron.

“You’ll
never catch me!” Adabelle roared, voice lost to the wind.

The world
rumbled with laughter. The universe quaked with mirth.
His
mirth.

Tied down
onto a bed, the room was white, the window filled with blinding light. The
sheets were white, the air cold, and yet the scent remained. A doorway appeared
opposite the bed, the white wall turning grey.

A figure
stood in the doorway.

Adabelle
struggled against the ties that bound her, arms fighting against the tightness
of the straps. She was caught, now. There was no escape. “Why do you want me?”
she asked. Pleaded.

There was no
reply.

Fly away!
she thought. But she didn’t. It didn’t
make sense.
Fly away!
Still, nothing. This was
her
dream;
she
could control it. Why wasn’t she flying?
Break the bonds and fly away.

The straps
loosened. A figure appeared at her side. Silhouetted against bright white lights,
it stood at her side, leaning closer and closer. It faded into focus, emerging
from dreamy mists.

A nurse. She
smiled.

“Where am
I?” asked Adabelle.

“You’re in
the Odilla Hospital,” replied the nurse. “Remember, you were visiting your Aunt
Marie? She had a bit of a turn—quite a bad one—and you got caught in the
buffer. Your sister got us quickly enough to pull you away, but your mind was
already too deep. We had to tie you down so you didn’t attempt anything while
caught in the Frequencies.”

Adabelle sighed,
rubbing her wrists, noting the redness from her struggle. They stung beneath
her touch, but otherwise, she was fine.

“And my
sister?” Adabelle asked. He voice was hoarse, mouth dry, probably from sleep
talking. Or screaming.

“She’s a
little shaken,” the nurse replied, “but I’ve already had someone tell her
you’ll be fine, so she’s calmed down a little. I’ll send her in shortly. I’ll
get you some water first—you look like you could use it.”

“Thank you,”
Adabelle replied, settling back into the bed. She reassured herself that she
was fully released from the dream and safe from Therron.

“I am me,”
she muttered. “I am alive. I am awake. I am here. I am here. I am…” She
repeated that phrase quietly so as not to be heard. She needed to remind
herself she sat in reality, that this hospital and bed were real and not some
creation of her imagination. The Frequencies would sneak in on occasion,
calling her back, but she fought it.

Charlotte
walked in fifteen minutes later, pale, but calm.

“I’m sorry,
Charlotte,” Adabelle said, holding her hand out to comfort her sister.

“Why were
you yelling out papa’s name?” she asked.

Adabelle could not hide the terrified
surprise that crossed her face.

“I’m sorry?” asked Adabelle,
sitting herself up in bed in an attempt to compose herself. Her expression
could not entirely hide her surprise, nor the fear she felt now. The one thing
she had hoped she would never have to face was now before her. And Charlotte
was waiting, arms crossed, expectant.

“While you were in the dream
buffer you kept screaming out papa’s name. Why would you do that?”

Adabelle couldn’t speak
still. She drew in air, yet couldn’t release it. She stuttered a little,
choking on her own breath, before managing a weak response. There was very
little she could divulge without lying, and their situation was hardly the time
to be lying.

“I’ll tell you soon,”
Adabelle replied. It was the least she could do for now. It wasn’t a complete
lie. Not really.

Charlotte gave her a blank,
somehow heated stare. One eyebrow rose. In that moment, Adabelle saw herself
staring back, incredulous at her own inability to tell the truth. She felt
guilty for undervaluing Charlotte. She was an adult, she reminded herself. Or
close enough to one to deserve honesty. She was a smart girl, and every bit as
strong as her, but somehow Adabelle couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth.

Maybe,
Adabelle though,
it’s me
who isn’t mature enough.

That single, stray thought
suddenly terrified her. Charlotte’s scrutiny abated, and she was left alone
once again.

Adabelle eventually had a
visit from the doctor, who seemed quite content to allow her to leave. She
promised him that she would not do anything too strenuous over the next week, and
then left with Charlotte.

On the way home, Charlotte pestered
Adabelle over her outburst, and despite Adabelle’s best assurances, it was
impossible to convince her fully. She was far too sceptical already to accept
such ridiculous evasions, as she had done many times in her youth.

“I sometimes wish I could go
into dreams like you,” Charlotte said, as they arrived at the University for
the afternoon. They walked up the front steps brusquely. At that statement Adabelle
grabbed Charlotte by the hand.

“What?” she asked, not
meaning to sound as threatening as she did.

Charlotte’s entire body
stiffened at the sudden reaction. “I just mean that if this was the case, I
could follow you into dreams. Or even ask you while dreaming what happened just
before. You can’t lie in dreams.”

Adabelle had so many
questions now, so much she wished to say. “How do you know you can’t lie in
dreams?” she asked. “Most people don’t know that.”

“Just because I haven’t been
a Dreamer doesn’t mean I haven’t studied some of the theory. I’m terrified of
it all, but I still learn this. I may struggle with it at times, but I can make
sense of it. I know things, Adabelle,” she sounded out of breath now.
Exasperated and frustrated, her eyes shimmered. “I know things. Even if you
don’t seem to think I do, I do. I know a lot.” She took a deep breath in. “And
sometimes I think you forget that.”

She was stunned, burned at
her sister’s outburst.

Were this anyone else,
Adabelle would have retorted with a smart, snappy quip, as sharp and stinging
as any blade. But this was her sister, and she loved her, and all she could do
was frown. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Before the University on the
steps, the sisters stood. Adabelle imagined her mother on the night she had been
dropped off here, handing her to Lady Abeth, dishevelled and frightened. So
much had changed here on that night. It was astonishing to think how much of
her life, of her daughter’s lives, had been affected by that single moment;
that single choice. She imagined her mother’s pain and frustration, at not
knowing what to do, of what would come; and in that moment she understood so
much. She felt so much of what her mother would have felt. It only served to
remind her of the troubles at hand, though.

“You don’t want to know about
Dreaming, or the Oen’Aerei. Please just make do with the knowledge that you
needn’t worry yourself, especially with issues such as these. You’re far better
off not able to dream than having to see what I see.” She quickly realised what
she had said, and added, “Sometimes….”

Charlotte looked up at
Adabelle through a slightly downturned face. She felt judgement in that gaze.

“You would tell me if there
was anything I needed to worry about, yes?” Charlotte asked.

To that
, Adabelle thought,
I can
tell the truth.

“There is nothing you need
worry about
presently
,” she replied. And it was the truth.

Charlotte’s gaze burned
between them, her scrutiny almost palpable. Adabelle struggled to keep her gaze
locked down on her sister, her eyes wavering only to blink.

“Okay,” Charlotte said. “I
believe you.”

Her tone didn’t sound
entirely convinced, but it was always difficult to lie to her sister. Her
sister ascended the last stairs and entered the University, leaving Adabelle
alone for a time.

A massive part of her wanted
to accept her father had returned. That she needed to seek help, find a place
to hide. But an even greater part of her spoke of its impossibility. The dream
spheres were unbreakable, at least from the inside. And even then, one would
have to have a body to break out entirely. From her knowledge, after his mind
had been sealed away, Therron’s body had been destroyed. Cremated and his ashes
released onto the wind. He could enter their dreams, but he could not harm them
in the real world.

But that’s not true,
Adabelle corrected herself.
He had cut Larraine, had tortured her for information. But that would suggest a
Sturding; a Sturding needed a body.

But then again,
she thought,
a Sturding
could only physically harm another Sturding
,

It was all getting a bit too
much now. Her head began to thump with confusion, the headache seeming to come
out of nowhere. She pushed her thoughts aside, and went inside, hoping to find
some peace and quiet.

But she didn’t. The rest of
the afternoon, she spent troubled by dark thoughts of her father’s probable
release, and also of its impossibility. At night, her sister pressed her
further for answers. Why had Adabelle been absorbed into the dream? Why hadn’t
she run like she usually had? Why had she been so transfixed by the dream
tendrils that then snapped her up like a bear trap and forced her to meet her
maker?

Only the following morning,
after a dreamless sleep and a chance to clear her mind, was she able to think.
None of this made much sense at all, so there was no use dwelling on it. She
went about her day as normal. Despite trying, she could not deny the feeling
within that she ought to do something about this confusion. But how was one
meant to seek clarity when so few others would be able to see sense?

On her way to her room, she
stopped in the hallway. She moved to the side for a time to allow any students
to pass. Despite her best attempts to suppress any unneeded thoughts, she
couldn’t find a way to hide them entirely within the recesses of her mind. She
needed to let it out to someone. She needed a confidant, to help clear her mind
a little.

“Mrs. Abeth,” she whispered,
switching directions suddenly, walking brusquely down the halls towards Mrs.
Abeth’s office.

She found the woman at her
desk, door wide open, and the window, too, to allow the fresh air in.

“Mrs. Abeth?” Adabelle said,
after clearing her throat.

“Afternoon, Adabelle.
Please, come in and sit.”

Adabelle nodded, closing the
door behind her.

“I understand it’s quite
stuffy in here, but I was wondering if I might be able to speak to you in
private for a minute or two?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Abeth
said, indicating a seat. “Get comfortable.”

Adabelle did so, and quickly
began explaining the events of the day before, and of her utter confusion. She
explained her fears about Charlotte beginning to ask questions, and the more
frightening prospect that she had no answers with which to respond.

“I’m feeling so stuck right
now,” Adabelle said, “and the more I look into it, the more I realise I may
have to face my fear.”

“And what’s that?”

“Visiting the Oen’Aerei,”
she said. “Going into their halls and into the dream sphere chamber and
searching for my father’s sphere. If it’s broken then I know he is free,
without a doubt. If it isn’t, then we must search for any other reason as to
why he appears in my dreams. He can’t have done it on his own regardless, and I
can’t see him being able to piece together any ash flakes when we consider how
widely the ashes were spread.”

“It will be tough,” Mrs.
Abeth replied, “but you have to think about the end you wish to achieve. Would
you really rather go on living, not really knowing whether your father is free
or not? Or would you rather know and have some closure and the peace of mind
that comes with being able to see the fire through the smoke. Yes, you could
assure yourself that the impossible can’t happen and that it is a Sturding Nhyx
latched onto some sick idea, or that another Dreamer is out to get you for one
reason or another. Or you can think to yourself for a time that maybe going
after answers is much less painful than facing your fears for an hour.”

“You’re saying I go to the
Halls?”

“I am,” she replied,
nodding. “But that said, if you feel you really cannot face those fears at all,
then you are the one deciding your path and I cannot change that. I cannot give
you courage as surely as your sister can’t dream, but I can support you if you
need the support, and I can be there when trouble comes to be shoulder to cry
on, and an ear to listen. I cannot take your hand and march you to the Halls of
the Oen’Aerei, but I can promise you that if you do go, I will be proud to say
that you have faced your fears. If you don’t, I will not think any less of you.
This is you decision and yours alone.”

Adabelle lowered her head
slightly. She didn’t know why she felt so down all of a sudden. A part of her
had hoped for Mrs. Abeth to have all the answers, to speak the truth she needed
to here. She imagined her saying whatever she needed to hear, to face her fear,
or to give the answer outright. But Mrs. Abeth was only human, and only knew as
much as any human. She may have been her surrogate mother, so to speak, but she
was not God. She did not know all. She was Mrs. Abeth, and she had done her
best.

“I owe it to myself to visit
the halls,” Adabelle said, “but at this point, I don’t think I’m ready to know.
I don’t know what I’ll face in those halls, and I don’t know if I do want to
face them. When I’m ready, I’ll go, unless these…things keep happening. Until
then, I’ll just stay blissfully ignorant.” She looked up to Mrs. Abeth. “You’ve
done your best here, but I think for now with everything on my plate, I’m best
to worry about this when I’m ready. I’m already struggling to invent a story
for Charlotte.”

Mrs. Abeth looked concerned
at this. “She still doesn’t know?”

“I don’t think she needs to
know, really.” Adabelle felt a slight bit of shame at that statement, but it
was the truth. Now was not the time for lying. “She can’t dream, therefore she
doesn’t have to worry about him appearing.”

Mrs. Abeth didn’t seem
entirely convinced by her logic.

“You have to remember that
just because she can’t dream, doesn’t mean she’s not affected in some way. She
has just as much at stake here. If anything were to go badly, she’d lose her
sister.”

Adabelle hadn’t thought
about it that way. In many ways, she could lose just as much as Adabelle. And
Adabelle hadn’t spoken to her about it. She’d lied and avoided answers, as a
child avoids baths. She held the secret, like telling her would mean the end of
their world.

“I’ll think about it,” she
said.

“And think carefully,” Mrs.
Abeth said. “No matter what, I’ll think no less of you. You’re old enough to
make your own decisions now, but whatever you pick, you have to be sure it’s
what’s best.”

Adabelle nodded. “Thank
you,” she said, rising up to leave.

“And Adabelle,” Mrs. Abeth added.

“Yes?” Adabelle turned.

“Stay safe.”

She smiled. “I will.”

That night, she had a
nightmare of the Halls.

They were long, with high
ceilings, too dark for her to see. And around each corner shadows shifted and
undulated, like the surface of an ocean, broad and endless in their depths.

She ran, as she usually
ended up doing in most nightmares. From what? She didn’t know; she only knew
she had to run.

“Charlotte!” she cried.

That’s right. She was
looking for Charlotte. She wasn’t running. She was searching.

“Charlotte, where are you?”

But her voice simply echoed
back through the shadows and the endless halls of shadow. She
had
to
find her sister. It was imperative. She hated to consider the alternative if
she didn’t discover her in time.