Visioness (22 page)

“Only if you’re sure,”
Adabelle said, reluctantly lowering her purse.

“Absolutely,” Rhene said.
“And I don’t want to hear it again. Else I’ll drop you home and take Charlotte
out instead.” He then laughed.

Adabelle smiled nervously,
looking oddly guilty, though he didn’t ask why.

They arrived at the carnival
grounds and stepped out of the taxi, only to be greeted by a barrage of light
and music and screams. All of the rides were spread out across the grounds,
like a farm the way the land was partitioned by a temporary fence. A carousel
spinning about to one side drew a massive crowd, with people riding an
assortment of horses, stags, bears, oversized rabbits and lizards. A band
playing jazz, made up of saxophones and drums and trumpets and guitars. On the
far side of the field had revellers dancing about wildly on the floor that had
been set down. Despite the madness of the gathering, Adabelle found herself
curious to join in. A Whirly-swing—Charlotte’s favourite ride—swung around at
great speeds to one side, lifting people carried in chairs off the ground and
above the gathered crowd, drew the most screams. The three went about the rides
one-by-one, lining up and paying once they got to the front of the line.
Charlotte seemed sensible enough to keep close for the night, yet still
maintained enough distance that Adabelle and Rhene were allowed to enjoy the
occasional moment alone. Adabelle seemed to appreciate that, too, and continued
to apologise for Charlotte’s joining them.

“I really don’t mind,” he
said. “Oh! Look!  A photographer!” He nodded over to a small line, at the
front of which was a photographer and a painted wooden wall with holes in it.
It was one of the novelty ones, painted with a funny scene, and had holes in it
to allow the people to poke their heads through. This one depicted and prince
and a princess, dressed in their most royal finery, dancing in a ballroom. The
people payed up the front, thrust their heads through the holes, and made silly
faces while having their photo taken.

“Do you want one?” Rhene
asked.

“But it’s so expensive,”
Adabelle said, nodding at the price.

“But for a photo with you,
I’d pay that. And look, the line’s really short. We won’t have to wait too
long.”

Adabelle nodded, if somewhat
reluctantly. “Well okay.”

Rhene passed a coin to
Charlotte. “Go over to the horse rides and meet us back here,” he said, nodding
to a pen on the far side of the showgrounds.

“Okay,” Charlotte said,
taking the coin and running off without another word to Rhene.

“I’ve always wanted to be a
princess,” Adabelle said, as the pair waited in line.

Rhene couldn’t help but
chuckle at that.

“No, really,” Adabelle said.
“Ever since I was a little girl. I believed that one day a handsome prince
would come and rescue me and take me away, and we would spend our days together
and our nights dancing in balls.”

“Well lucky,” Rhene said,
holding out a hand towards the painted wall. “Tonight, your dream is about to
come true, Princess Adabelle.”

Adabelle laughed. “You’re
poking fun at me, aren’t you.”

Rhene couldn’t hide his
smile, nor his laughter, for long. “No, of course not.” He paused a moment.
“Well, maybe a little.”

She balled up a fist and
jabbed him softly on the arm.

“What was that for?” he
asked, unable to contain his laughter again.

“For mocking a princess.”

Rhene rolled his eyes,
bowing low. “Your
majesty.”

By now, it was their turn.
They positioned themselves behind the wall, the pair smiling as the
photographer’s flash-bulb burst with smoke and light.

“Write down your address
here,” the photographer said on a form, “and I’ll post the portrait out.”

“Thank you,” Rhene said,
quickly scribbling down his details. By this time, Charlotte had returned from
the horse ride.

“Rhene?” she asked.

“Yes, Charlotte?” he
replied, as they wandered between the carousel and the Ferris wheel.

“See those toys over there?”
she said, pointing to a stand filled with teddy bears and other stuffed
animals.

“Yes,” he said, beginning to
guess already where this was headed.

“Can you win one for me?”

He had guessed correctly.

“Of course,” he replied. They
wandered over to the game. It involved popping a series of balloons lined up
along the wall with a dart.

“He’s not going to be able
to win,” Adabelle said. “These things are usually rigged. All the good prizes
are hard to get to.”

“That may be,” Rhene said,
grinning, “but I am a master marksman.” He had three darts. He had to get a
score of twenty-five or higher in order to get any of the big stuffed animals.

“Well good luck,” Adabelle
said, stepping back.

Three darts and three high
scoring balloons later, Charlotte walked away from the stand with a huge
stuffed stag, its fur chestnut brown, its antlers a pale gold. It had been a
perfect score, too, meaning he also walked away with a huge rainbow lollipop,
which he promptly handed to Adabelle.

“For the princess,” he said,
mockingly.

“And for the jester,” she
said, tapping him on the head with the lolly as he bowed.

“What do you think you’ll
name it?” Adabelle asked, turning to Charlotte.

“Ebihyatt,” Charlotte
replied quickly, her arms wholly encumbered by the stag toy. “Ebihyatt
Oueller.”

Adabelle cocked her brow in
surprise. “That’s an awfully specific name.”

“I learnt it in history the
other day,” Charlotte replied. “We were learning about the stags in Yeliesia
and how they can talk, and we were told about the legendary stag King Ebihyatt
Oueller who killed the usurper.”

“They’re called Hyorkrieg,”
Rhene corrected, “but I do like that name.”

Charlotte nodded, walking
away proudly with her prize.

The last ride they went on
was the Ferris wheel, and Adabelle and Rhene were given a seat to themselves.
It moved slowly, lifting them high above the city, giving them a view of the
University and the Halls of the Oen’Aerei, and the clock tower. Up there,
alone, the pair snuggled close together to keep away from the frigid wind.
Rhene liked holding Adabelle close, and all the while his stomach seemed to
flutter and churn.

“Thank you for tonight,” she
said quietly. “It’s been nice to take my mind off…” she hesitated. “…things.”

“Is everything okay?” he
asked, pulling her closer, gripping her arm tightly.

“I’m fine,” she replied.
“Just personal stuff. Nothing you should have to deal with.”

Rhene’s brow furrowed. He
didn’t wish to press for information, but he didn’t like seeing her concerned
or upset. “Well you can talk to me whenever you wish,” he said, “just know
that. I’m always happy to talk. It’s what I’m here for.”

He could see the
appreciation in her eyes, and it brought a mighty grin to her face.

“Thank you,” she said, and
then she kissed him. It wasn’t a long passionate one, but short and soft and
gentle and sweet. There, at the very apex of the Ferris wheel, the pair stared
at each other a moment longer, and then kissed again.

“Thank you for tonight,” she
whispered, as she embraced him, resting her chin on the space between his neck
and his shoulder.

“No need to thank me,” he
replied. “You being here with me is enough.”

The second date with Rhene,
though seeming entirely inappropriate given her situation, was a nice change
for Adabelle. Even for just an evening, she welcomed something to keep her mind
off her troubles. Charlotte enjoyed the carnival, too, and proudly carried the
stuffed stag home with a broad grin.

“Your boyfriend won this for
me
,” she teased.

“He’s not my boyfriend,”
Adabelle retorted. “We’re just…dating. That’s all.”

“So he’s your boyfriend,”
Charlotte laughed, before running ahead up the hall towards their room.

“You do know you were only
allowed to come because of that damn dream you had,” she said. She couldn’t
risk her sister’s mindlock softening for a moment, only for her to be elsewhere.
If she could reach into that mindlock and unleash the knowledge within, then
she could perhaps solve the mystery of her father’s secrets.

Adabelle simply shook her
head and laughed. Despite all the troubles in her life, and despite the danger
her father posed in her dreams, it seemed she was doing something right. One
thing was working, and that was enough.

And I have Charlotte, and
she’s safe,
she thought. But still the knowledge that a mindlock was in place disturbed her
slightly. What was so valuable to her father that he needed to hide it? What
piece of knowledge had to be kept secret in the head of another person, locked
by a second mind?

Whatever it was, Adabelle
felt she’d need it before she could truly stop her father.

For the time though,
Charlotte was safe, Rhene was still interested in her despite everything, and
for that she was happy.

It was the morning after the
carnival that she arrived at her rooms from breakfast to find the police at her
door. Or rather, a detective. Detective Olin, still oddly handsome, waited
outside her door knocking rather loudly.

“Miss Blaise,” he called
through the door. “It’s Detective Olin. I’m here to speak with you about your
cousin’s death. If you could open your door.”

“Yes, Detective?” asked
Adabelle, standing behind him. Charlotte stood behind her, quietly confused.

“Ah, Adabelle,” Detective
Olin said, straightening up. He pulled his coat together and buttoned it
quickly. “I was hoping to find you. I was wondering if I might be able to
request another interview with you. You see there have been a few more
developments. I was hoping to maybe have a short discussion with you, if I
may.”

“Of course,” Adabelle said.
“Does Charlotte have to come with me?”

“Not at all.”

She dropped Charlotte off at
the room, leaving her to her own devices.

“If you don’t mind, we’ll go
to the library for this discussion. We have another witness there who wishes to
speak with us and we’d like you present, too.”

Adabelle almost tripped in
her walk. “Another witness?” she asked. “Witness to what?”

“Well that’s for them to
say. The point is that he has requested you here for this discussion.”

“He?” she asked.
Who
could it be?

From the dormitories, they
went through much of the University towards the library. Once inside, they were
given a private room, waiting in which was a boy Adabelle had never met. He
looked a little older than her, with a mess of brown hair and a beard that
framed his pale face. He kept his eyes downcast as she entered. She was given a
seat opposite him, while Detective Olin sat to the side.

A jug of iced water sat in
the centre of the room. Adabelle poured herself a glass in an attempt to calm
herself. Her hands shivered slightly, her face shimmering with sweat, the air
in the room turning thick.

“Now Adabelle, this young
man is Peter. Now Peter, remember everything you say will be used today. I will
be taking notes.”

“Yes, detective,” Peter
said, glancing quickly to Adabelle, and then away at the detective.

“Good. Now, say what you
came here to tell us.”

“Well…last night I had a
nightmare.” He spoke like a spooked child, his voice weak and fearful. “I was
just dreaming and then a man came to me in my dream.”

“Can you describe the man?”
asked Detective Olin.

“He had dark skin, and
greying hair. And a moustache, oiled and curled.” As he described Therron
Blaise, Adabelle watched him gesture about his face. “He wore a neat suit, and
he walked with a cane, though he had no limp. He smelled of cologne, though. My
grandfather used to wear the same one; I can recognise it so clearly, because
he used to buy me a bottle every year. Lomatti, it’s called. I always thought
it reeked of shaving cream.”

He paused in his story,
swallowing deeply.

Detective Olin reached into
his bag, pulling out cologne in a tall, black bottle. Written in a bold white
font was the word LOMATTI.

A single spritz, and
Adabelle recognised it as Therron’s cologne. Musky and strong, like shaving
cream.

“That’s it,” both she and
Peter said at the same time.

Detective Olin nodded,
scribbling notes down upon his pad.

“I asked him who he was, and
he said his name was Count Blaise. He promised he wasn’t going to hurt me, but
he did have a knife. He held it to my throat.” Peter reached for his neck,
running his fingers over his Adams apple. “He pressed it in, and I felt it. He
said if I didn’t struggle, I would be allowed to leave freely. I agreed.

“Then, he said I had a message
I had to pass on. He said, ‘Tell my daughter…tell Adabelle Blaise, that she
should be ready’.”

He stopped himself there,
closing his eyes.

“Ready?” Adabelle asked
folding her arms. “Ready for what?”

“Yes, what?” asked Detective
Olin. He sounded as though he was asking both Peter and Adabelle.

“I don’t know,” Peter said.
“He just said tell her to be ready. And also that she’d have to start the fire.”

Detective Olin leaned in
towards the table slightly, folding his arms upon the table. “Start the fire?”

“That’s what he said,” Peter
replied. “I asked him what he meant, but then he was gone.”

Detective Olin took a moment
of quiet to write a handful more notes before he said, “Now, Peter, did this
knife leave any marks around your neck. You said you felt it. That it hurt.”

“It didn’t leave marks, no,”
he said. “But it’s like anything in a dream. You feel it all regardless.”

“Indeed,” the detective
nodded, crossing out one of his notes.

“And that’s that. Can I go
now? I really need a rest.”

“Of course,” Detective Olin
said, smiling politely. “We’ll find you if we have any more questions. Thank
you.”

Peter nodded and then stood
up and left. For a time, there was only silence in the library room. Then,
Detective Olin underlined his notes three times before turning to Adabelle.

“Well?” he asked.

She waited a moment for him
to elaborate. He didn’t.

“Well what?” she asked.

“What are your thoughts?”

Adabelle paused.
What
game is he trying to play here?
“It sounds to me like my father came to him
in a dream and tried to scare him into passing on a message.”

“And what do you think of
the meaning of it?” he asked.

Adabelle’s brow furrowed
deeply. “I honestly don’t know. I know nothing about being ready for anything,
nor about lighting a fire. As I said last time, what my father does within the
Dreams is entirely his own doing. I have
nothing
to do with it. Ever.”

Detective Olin rose from his
chair, sitting down upon the table before Adabelle. He leaned on his hands, his
legs not quite long enough to touch the ground. He smiled at her. It wasn’t a
warm, happy smile, but somehow serpentine. It seemed like a trickster’s smile,
made to create a false sense of security and hope.

“Come now, Adabelle,” he
said. “You can share anything with me. You are aware that any evidence you
provide to us works in your favour when this trial goes to court.”

Adabelle shuffled back in
her seat, unable to breathe properly. Detective Olin only leaned in further.

“Anything you can tell us
that will help will be greatly appreciated,” he whispered. “About this fire in
the dreams. About this
being ready.
”

“You’re confusing me,
detective,” Adabelle said, keeping her eyes fixed on Detective Olin. “One
moment you sound like your denying any existence of my father, the next you
insinuating that everything he’s doing is real and a threat. And that I’m an
accomplice!”

“We treat all threats with
equal gravity,” Olin said, “but we cannot make final decisions until we have
more complete answers. We can only deal with evidence, and unfortunately, the
evidence is beginning to add up. For all we know, this enigma of your father
this boy saw could have been a mirage dreamt up by you to throw this case off.
You wouldn’t be the first criminal to do this. Think about it; this boy said a
knife was held to his throat, yet no knife marks remain. Your sister was a
broken woman by the end.”

“It’s because Peter wasn’t a
Sturding! Larraine was a registered Oen’Aerei. I never believed for a second
she was a Sturding, but I’m sure if you went and spoke to Lady Morphier, she
could explain the way Dreaming works, since you seem so set on ignoring what I
have to say.” She spoke with venom. Could these men not see the answer sitting
so obviously in front of them? Were they so blind as to ignore her suggestions.
Open a book, do some research, and realise that people can change. They can
grow. Or, in the words of Lady Morphier,
evolve.

Detective Olin leant back
slightly on the table. She fought the desire to get up and storm out, knowing
fully it would not work in her favour when they finally told her she had to go
to court.

“I’m not ignoring you,” he
said. “I just have to take everything into account.”

His calmness was unnerving.

“And what did Lady Morphier
tell you when you went and saw her?” she asked. “Of the sphere that broke? Of
my father.”

“Well, she acknowledged the
sphere broke and that it’s possible for Sturdings to harm people in dreams. She
also explained that your father, even if he
had
broke out, would be
limited to the dream world. He would not be able to harm anyone within the
Dream Frequencies.”

Adabelle fought the need to
swear now. She pushed it down, endeavouring calmness. It escaped her, though,
and all she could do was glare.

“When I questioned her about
your cousin Larraine, she seemed quite happy to explain that it is possible for
Sturdings to be unaware of their skills. More often than not, they discover
their solidity in the Dream by accident. Your cousin was not a registered
Sturding, and therefore we can only assume she was not.”

“But there are witnesses
that were there. I didn’t lay a hand on her. A coroner would have easily found
no poisons in her system.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but you
were there at the moment of death. In this day and age, there are still things
coroners are unable to pick up. You were there, you were embracing your cousin,
she said something and then she was dead.”

Adabelle’s memories flashed.

“We need help if we’re going
to fight him. We’re going to need a lot of help.”

That’s what she’d said.

No,
Adabelle thought.
The
more people who help, the more people will die.
She paused.
The fewer
the better.

“I have no known motive,”
Adabelle retorted.

“Don’t you?” he asked. “I
point to a piece of evidence; your cousin’s diary. The entry is the day before
she died.” He turned to another page of his notebook. “It said, ‘I’m scared of
Adabelle now. I don’t know why, but she scares me. These nightmares I keep
having, I can’t help but connect them to her. There’s a reason
he’s
there, and I think it’s because of Adabelle.’ We’ve had it checked against the
girl’s handwriting multiple times and it’s an exact match. What do you make of
that?”

Adabelle sat before him,
dumbstruck.

“She did not write that,”
Adabelle said, disbelieving.

“She did. I’m not allowed to
lie. I’m not allowed to falsify evidence.”

Adabelle wanted to scream.
Why would Larraine write that? Why would she be scared?

Unless…

He approached her to get to
me,
she
thought.
He’s going through those around me to get to me, since he knows I
will run.
But why did Larraine have to write that in such a way! It
makes me sound guilty! Like I’m the one after her.

There was no way to argue
those words. She had to accept them, and move on from there.

“So I need you to tell me
again,” Detective Olin said, “what are you preparing for, and what is the
‘fire’ meant to represent? Is it a code for something? Are you planning some
kind of arson attack? Where? When?”