Visioness (29 page)

Charlotte was quick to fall
asleep. She didn’t fret at any point, nor did she look too worried. She was
concerned, that was true, but she was a smart, mature girl. So often Adabelle
forgot she was only four years her junior. She was old enough to be making her
own decisions, to not get scared when she was left alone.

Part of her still felt a
strong, irrevocable desire to protect the girl, though. She had to insure her
sister’s safety at all times. If Therron or his agents were able to get hold of
her, her life would be over. She might as well hand herself over to the police
then and there.

“I should check on Rhene,
too,” she thought, running through the Dream Frequencies towards where she
could sense Rhene’s mind. He walked down the street at a brusque pace, gently
humming as he walked. It seemed to Adabelle, the more of the real world she
wished to touch, the more she could see. She could force herself to see the
buildings around her, to see the wet cobbles from the rain of the night, the
gentle, ethereal glow of the street lamps guiding Rhene on his way.

Adabelle suddenly realised
she had never seen where Rhene lived. She followed him.

Further down the street she wandered,
passing through the Frequencies, yet somehow still bound mostly to the images
of the real world. Occasionally she would see the grass field of a particularly
strong dream—a beach here, a mosquito-laden jungle there—but mostly she saw
Odilla, with its straight broad avenues and the thin, tall alleys that divided
the houses, illuminated only by the bars of light shining from the walkways.

Rhene arrived at a squat,
square, plain building. Adabelle recognised it without a second glance.

“The Dreamless?” she
thought. “But…how? Surely not!”

Yet he went inside, and she
followed, passing through the door like a ghost. He went up the halls towards
his own private room. Once there, he changed out of his clothes. His torso was
exactly as she had imagined it, his chest well defined, his arms large from exercise.
She turned away when he removed his trousers, glancing back only once she was
sure he was in his bed.

“You’re a Dreamless,” she
thought, suddenly realising why he had been so adamant about him visiting her
whenever they would meet. Whenever she had sent a reply telegram, she had
simply provided a name and they were delivered to the reply address at the
telegram office. That was how it worked. “We weren’t ever meant to be
together,” she realised out loud. If she had known that before, she never would
have gone on that first date.

She had heard many things
about the Dreamless. She had heard they had the ability to snap people away
from Dreams, the way Slugleaf tea could. She had heard that they were trained
with an almost religious zeal to deny the Dreamers, but especially the
Oen’Aerei. The Oen’Aerei in their mind were the demons of the world, able to
intrude on the minds of others. People like Lady Morphier and Count Therron
were the reasons the Dreamless existed. They knew and were trained to accept
that those who could Dream were dark and evil; they knew no alternative.

“What would happen if he
knew we were Dreamers,” she thought. “What would he do to me? Would he send me
off to get snapped? Would he turn me in to the police, suddenly believing me evil?”
She imagined all the possibilities, like nightmares playing before her, each
one gradually turning darker.

As they began to trouble her
more deeply than she wished. She stopped herself, having something of an
epiphany. This was Rhene she was thinking about. Rhene, the one she cared for,
the one who was watching her sister, the one who had saved her from the burning
University. He was concerned enough to do that, and that meant he would not
abandon her suddenly or without discussion.

She trusted Rhene. He was
one of the first people she had come to trust in a long time. The last person
she’d come to trust this much was dead now. She had to have faith that he would
not leave her untended. She paused here, as his body gained substance within
the Dream.

But he’s a Dreamless,
she thought.
He’s not
meant to be dreaming at all, in any capacity.

She was curious to see what
the man’s dreams were like—a person’s mind revealed the true character that
sometimes lay dormant beneath.

Yet with this solidity came
a new set of clothing for the man who had, up until that point, being lying in
bed in only his undergarments. He opened his eyes glancing about. Much to
Adabelle’s surprise, her surroundings didn’t change at all. There was neither
sight nor sound nor miniscule hint of his dreams at work.

Then, he turned to face her,
his eyes widening with shock, his entire figure freezing. For a moment he
seemed to forget he was dreaming, his appearance wavering and fuzzing. Her
clothes faded and for a moment he was naked. Adabelle felt heat rush to her
face. He regained concentration, though, and his clothes snapped back into
position.

And this meant only one
thing.

“Rhene,” she said, exhaling.
“You…you’re a Dreamer.”

Rhene was silent. His mouth
opened, yet no words came out. There were sounds that could have been parts of
words, yet this piecemeal explanation would hardly suffice for an actual
response.

“Don’t be afraid.” She
stepped forward, and he retreated towards his bed. “Rhene,” she said, sounding
firmer this time. She attempted to put concern in her voice, a hint of warmth
to show she wasn’t frightened or worried. He still sat before her, dumbstruck
and shaking. She extended a hand, and he retracted his own. Realising she’d
have to act quickly to calm his shock, she simply grabbed his arm.

The man yelped, eyes
closing. His entire body seemed to shift before her, fuzzing and then
solidifying. She realised he was escaping the Dream, and because she was
holding him, he couldn’t. He was attempting to break the rules of the Dreamscape,
and that would result in Oblivion if she wasn’t careful.

“Rhene!” she yelled, only
moments after he tried to drag himself from the Frequencies. “Rhene don’t do
this! You’re breaking the rules!”

Her own image, she could
tell, was changing too. Her hair was receding, he face coating itself with rain
and dirt as she stepped closer to the material world. Yet with each millisecond
that Rhene fought for waking, Adabelle fought to hold the Dream.

There was a second, where
Adabelle though Oblivion would consume them both. The space between dreams
threatened to consume them, to end them. Then there came an almighty snap, her
body suddenly warm, forgetting the wind and the rain. The next snap drew her
out of the dream and into Rhene’s room, Rhene still quivering in her grasp. She
was dry, her legs pressing against the thick doona on Rhene’s bed.

“This is impossible,” she
said, suddenly realising what she had done.

“Adabelle?” Rhene said, eyes
wide with shock.

Somehow, she had used the
Frequencies to move from one place to another. Somehow, she had done what she
knew only Sturdings could do. She had travelled within the Dream, and had
brought her physical body with her.

“I didn’t know you were a
Sturding,” Rhene said.

“I didn’t know you were a
Dreamer,” Adabelle replied. “Or a Dreamless.”

Rhene, still wide-eyed and
apparently unable to open his mouth fully at the present moment, simply glanced
about the room, searching for the words he could say. “I’m actually a Sturding,
too,” he replied.

Adabelle gasped quietly.

They both stood there,
breathless for a moment. Adabelle couldn’t help but feel self-conscious before
this young man, dressed in ruined clothes, face matted with dirt. Her hair was
so short; so disgustingly dirty. Her mouth felt fuzzy from a lack of brushing,
her hands sticky from a simple lack of bathing.

But Rhene wasn’t entirely
presentable at the time, either. Dressed in nothing more than his undergarments
to cover his lower regions, she could see his muscled torso, the long legs that
were usually covered by trousers. He hadn’t shaved in a while, either, his face
sprinkled with stubble.

Yet in that moment,
regardless of appearance, the pair found themselves drawn to one another.
Ignoring cleanliness or appropriateness, the couple embraced tightly, lips
locked in a passionate kiss. Adabelle forgot for a moment how hideous she felt,
how empty her stomach was, or how short her hair was; for this second she felt
beautiful before this man she loved, and then all she felt was his lips upon
her and a tremendous warmth pressing upon her cold body.

“I’ve missed you,” she
whispered, breathing the words into his neck.

“I have, too,” he replied,
hands gently stroking the small of her back. He then hugged her again, and for
a moment longer, she forgot all of her troubles and Rhene and the world.

Rhene showed Adabelle to the
female bathroom, where she had her first warm shower in a very long while. She
washed out her hair with the shampoo she found within, running the soap over
her body, gently scrubbing away the dirt and muck. She spent a long while in
there, enjoying the scent of the soap and the steam. She was alone in there,
and basked in that peaceful, warm space while she could.

She towelled herself down.
The hour was late, the halls empty, and Rhene’s room only a short distance
away. She picked up the dirty clothes from where she’d left them and then, with
light, quick steps, rushed back to the safety of Rhene’s room. The towel was
long, covering her up to the same degree a dress would. Yet somehow she still
felt exposed, like Rhene could see more than what she intended him to.

“Tomorrow, I can buy you
some fresh clothes,” he explained, “but we can’t exactly have you sleeping
entirely naked tonight.” He glanced over at his single bed. “It’s going to be
quite a…cosy night.” He attempted a laugh to cover up the fact that he was
really quite embarrassed.

Adabelle blushed, joining in
the awkward laughter, perhaps to suffuse the tension. This tension was
different somehow, though. This felt…warm rather than hot and angry. There was
love there, passing between them in waves. A second after she had blushed, she
felt like she didn’t care that she was practically wearing nothing before him.

He rose from the bed, his eyes
clearly pausing on her body.

“If you want, I can find you
some trunks for you to wear so you’ve got something. And I probably have a
clean shirt somewhere.”

“That would be nice,” she
whispered, holding onto the place where the towel folded in so as to avoid it
falling. With her shivering and her nervousness, it attempted to unravel.

From his bed, Rhene crossed
the room to a chest of drawers, riffling through it for something for the girl
to wear. He seemed not to mind that he was wearing only his undergarments before
her, that tiny piece of fabric modesty hiding enough so as to not seem rude.

She blurted the words before
she could stop herself. “I don’t have to sleep with clothes on,” she said,
surprised at her audacity.

What are you saying?
she gasped inwardly.

“What?” Rhene asked, turning
and rising back to full height before her.

“I don’t really need to
sleep clothed,” she said, letting her hands fall from the towel. It stayed in
place, keeping her breasts and stomach and legs shielded from view.

He crossed towards her,
suddenly wrapping his arms about her. He kissed her on the lips, quickly but
warmly. Her shivering only worsened. Despite being embraced by his kindly,
strong arms, despite how warm and safe she felt, she still shook. His arms
tightened, warming her, absorbing the shock of her body’s shaking.

Before she grasped what was
happening, she realised suddenly she was kissing him again. This one wasn’t
quick, though. It was fast in a different way, and passionate, like the pair of
them was madly trying to improve on the kiss before that one. These kisses grew
furiously fervent until she noticed they were now upon his bed, her towel about
her hips, his excitement apparent.

She was surprised how little
she cared that her entire body was on display, half-illuminated by the
flickering light of the candle on the bedside table. She didn’t even remember
him lighting it.

“Are you sure?” he said
breathlessly.

“With you,” she replied, “I
am.”

That night, while in Rhene’s
arms, entwined in his body under the doona of his bed, Adabelle remembered what
it was to feel loved, to feel beautiful. Adrift in their shared passions, she
lost all memory of Therron’s hunt, or her fear of losing Charlotte to a dark
future. For that night, it was just her and Rhene and their love for one
another. When she awoke the following morning, with the light streaming onto
her face, she looked upon Rhene in his peaceful slumber, and laughed out loud
at the red mark on his neck.

Oh dear,
she thought.
Did I do
that?

He stirred at the sound of
her laughter, eyes opening drowsily.

“Good morning,” he said,
groaning as he stretched.

“Morning,” she replied.

“Why are you grinning like
that?” he asked, brow furrowing in a strange, languid concern. “You look like
you’ve just heard the funniest joke.”

“Your neck,” she said,
pointing at the hickey. “You may want to look in the mirror.”

He threw back the sheets,
walking over to the mirror. He laughed at the sight before him.

“Love bite,” he said,
shaking his head. He chuckled again.

Rhene got dressed, heading
down to the mess hall to get breakfast. He returned a short while later with
some toast for Adabelle and a pot of raspberry jam.

“It’s all I could bring back
without raising suspicion,” he said. He wore a collared shirt to hide the
hickey, yet it still peeked over the height of the collar.

“Anything is lovely,” she
replied. She now wore a shirt of his and his boxers.

As she ate, he questioned
her about her current appearance.

“Why did you cut off your
hair?” he asked.

“I needed to become less
recognisable,” she replied. “It was the least I could do to protect myself. The
police want me because of something my father has done.”

She cut herself off,
suddenly realising what she had said.

“Therron is after you, too?”
he asked.

She bowed her head in shame,
though she didn’t know why she felt so upset. She was tempted to inquire him
about Therron’s own actions, but she could guess.

“I’m sorry about my father,”
she said.

“Can you explain that to
me?” he replied, taking a seat next to her. “I’m not sure I quite understand.
He came to me wanting to know the Dreamless’ movements. I can only assume it
has something to do with the Oen’Aerei.”

Adabelle nodded. “You’re not
far off. My father has some kind of connection with Lady Morphier, who is the
head of the Oen’Aerei. Are the Dreamless planning an attack on the Oen’Aerei of
some kind?”

“It’s meant to be classified
information, but I can trust you, Adabelle,” he said. “If I can’t trust you,
who is there? Yes, the Dreamless are planning an attack on the Oen’Aerei.
They’re going to strike sometime soon, with the intention of destroying the
Dreamers so that there is no more Oen’Aerei.” He stopped himself here,
expression falling to one of sadness. “I’ve tried speaking with my leader,
Dreamless Matthon—he’s a Dreamer, too—to convince him that destroying the
Oen’Aerei will not destroy the Dreamers, but he is convinced otherwise. He
thinks if we can destroy the Oen’Aerei, we can stop people like Count Therron
from re-emerging in the future.” Adabelle could tell from the way Rhene spoke
about the man, he wasn’t entirely convinced. But there was still some confusion
there, too. He didn’t sound entirely certain of very much at all. “He thinks
that that
place
is where the evil seed is planted; where the Dreamers
get their capacity for evil.”

Adabelle couldn’t help but
laugh. She knew it was false, but she had so far only seen evidence to the
contrary.

“At the end of the day, I’m
just…really confused. I mean I’ve been brought up believing all Dreamers are
evil mind-readers, brain-washers and sanity-breakers, and then not only do I
discover my hero is a Dreamer himself, and living a lie, but I am a Dreamer,
too!”

In his voice, Adabelle heard
a deep conflict brewing below the surface. An ocean could appear calm on the
surface, yet below the waves waged a brawl between mighty oceanic creatures. So
was Rhene’s position. His entire worldview was brought into question, and he
knew not how to react. Was he turning to her for answers? For assistance? She
was hardly in a position to provide advice; she was just as confused as he was.
At the very least, though, she could listen, and listen she did.

“I mean, I’m a Sturding, one
of the most powerful of Dreamers. From the day that Therron killed my parents—and
I remember now, it was Therron that murdered them—I swore I would stop any
Dreamer. And now I am one. Now...” he turned to Adabelle, “…I’m in love with
one.”

She raised a hand to his
face, her fingers combing through his hair.

“Maybe now’s a chance to
learn and grow and change,” she replied, not entirely sure what she was saying,
but hopeful it was helping. “When I was on the street, and I thought I was
going to die, I was quick to decide I had to change as a person. He’s stolen my
money, my life, my own dreams! I have to change from reacting to his movements,
to acting in my own way. I have to be the one fighting, not constantly
defending. I will never gain any ground in this war if I am constantly stepping
back, and recoiling from his movements. Remember, Rhene, no matter what, we
always have a choice. Just because my father is causing all these evil deeds,
doesn’t mean I have to up and join him. He’s made his decisions, and now’s the
time for me to make my own.” She pressed a finger into his chest. “You can do
the same.”

Rhene was nodding, listening
intently.

Adabelle went on. “You’ve
learnt today that not
all
Dreamers are evil. The Oen’Aerei aren’t all
evil, though I wouldn’t put it past Lady Morphier having a private army of dark
Dreamers waiting in the wings. The school is there to teach Dreamers how to
control their powers—some of them don’t pick it up as easily as others—so it’s
there to educate. It’s not there to manufacture nightmares and evil. You may be
fighting for the Dreamless at this moment, but that’s nothing permanent. You
can change your mind. You don’t have to fight for either side; you can fight
for yourself.”

Rhene nodded. “Well I know
that now.”

“I mean, I’m sure that for
every Dreamer touched by Therron’s evil, there’s another three or four who
remain pure. They will not fight. This place here,” she touched the wood of the
bed, indicating the Barracks, “This is an army Barracks. You are soldiers,
training for war. You have tactics and generals and plans. The Oen’Aerei are
not an army. They’re a school, who now have a tiny bit of warning in order to scrabble
together some kind of army. I have been into those halls a handful of times,
and not a once have I seen people training for war. I’ve seen organisation and
books and lessons and learning. If the Dreamless go to war, there will be death
and bloodshed.” She imagined the battle now: Crimson cloaks dancing with rifles
upon crimson rivers. Flashes of scarlet as silver bullets pierced and blasted
at soft flesh. “Don’t aim for the Dreamers—aim for Lady Morphier. She is the
enemy here, being influenced by my father. He’s promised her things if she
assists in his return to the real world. For that return, thankfully, they need
me.”

“Why you?” asked Rhene.

“I’m a strong Dreamer, and,”
she hesitated, “I suppose I’m now a Sturding. I can pull things out of the
Dream.”

“But why you?” asked Rhene.
“Lady Morphier
has
to be strong enough.”

“She might be,” Adabelle
replied, “I’m not real sure on all of this. It might have something to do with
the fact I’m his flesh and blood. Charlotte cannot dream a wink, so she’s
useless to him.”
Not entirely so, with her mindlock,
she corrected
herself. “I am the only one remaining who can pull him out, because part of him
is in me.” She shivered at that thought.
He
was her father in blood
whether she liked it or not. She was the one he needed to escape the Dream.

“He’s not doing very well at
gaining your trust if he wants you to pull him out of the Frequencies then,”
Rhene said.

“He knows he doesn’t need
trust to make me pull him out,” she replied. “And this is what’s most
terrifying. He knows he doesn’t need me to want to take him out; he can make
me. He’s powerful, he knows his connections well. He took Larraine to her death
to show me he could do it, and now he’s contacted you knowing he can affect me
through you.” She fell into his arms, hugging him as tightly as she could. She
didn’t cry thought; this wasn’t the time for tears.
Strength,
she
thought.
Strength!
“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he
replied, stroking her hair. “It’s not your fault. Besides, do you really think
your father is going to scare me off? I care about you too much to let a serial
killer frighten me.”

Adabelle laughed. “Do you
hear how silly you sound right now?”

“I do,” he replied, rather
matter-of-factly. “And I mean it. I will fight anyone who tries to keep me from
you. I will destroy anyone who tries to hurt you or anything you care about. If
this means I have to fight Lady Morphier and Therron at the same time in the
Dream Frequencies, then so be it! Bring it on! I am ready to face them, for
you!”

“I’m not missing any of the
action,” Adabelle said. “I’ll be fighting by your side, too.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other
way,” Rhene said, smiling. Rhene seemed to hesitate on the verge of speaking,
opening his mouth to speak and then closing it up once more. It took a minute
longer for him to finally spit out what he needed to say. “It’s lovely that
you’re telling me all this; really wonderful that you’re taking a chance to
give me a little bit of clarity in amongst all this confusion, but Matthon is a
powerful man. He’s not only strong in the Dream realms, but also in real life.
He’s a powerful man, with a powerful position. If he wanted to run my life on a
whim, he could. I’ve made a deal with him: not to tell anyone about his ability
to Dream, and he’ll do the same. Can you imagine the wrath he would bring upon
me if I let it slip that he was a Dreamer? The trouble I would put the entire
Barracks into if the truth came out?”