‘We think the Department is holding Ashley in real life. They’re stopping her from sleeping so she can’t come here and dreamweave.’
Esme laughs sharply. ‘She can’t weave though. Neither can you.’
I ignore that last part. ‘They might be keeping her at her home. I’m going to try and get her address from the Mayor’s old records.’
‘How will you get past the Department?’
‘I’m working on that bit. The thing is that we all know the Department isn’t the only issue. The world outside is going to shit, Esme. More and more people are getting ill. The sleep paralysis is … well, it’s bloody awful.’
Her voice dulls. ‘I wouldn’t know, would I?’
I grab her by her shoulders. Her chin jerks up and her eyes spit fire. I don’t care; I need Esme to believe in me. ‘Stop it,’ I say sternly. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself.’
She opens her mouth to speak but I don’t give her the chance.
‘You think I don’t know what it’s like?’ I continue. ‘You think you’re the only person who’s been dealt a shitty hand? I spent eighteen months trapped inside my own home, terrified of visitors. The only place I felt safe was in my wardrobe! I was the town weirdo.’ I tug at my ponytail. ‘In fact, the only reason I’m here right now and not with Dante in America is because I panicked so much when it was time to leave that I had to turn round with my tail between my legs.
‘I’ve been moping around because I’m supposed to be the dreamweaver but, like you say, I can’t dreamweave. I was getting somewhere before and now all this has happened. I can go into individual dreams and fight off whatever monsters are there but when thousands of people are suffering and there’s only one of me, I can’t achieve any kind of real success. But if I curl up into a ball and whimper in the corner, then we’re all fucked.’
The pitch of my voice is rising but I don’t care. ‘You think I’ve not got doubts? You think I don’t know that I should be doing things better? I know all that but I can’t afford to keep worrying about it. You know this place better than anyone, Esme. That means I need you more than anyone else. Get up and stop feeling sorry for yourself and I’ll do the same. We need to save Ashley, save the Dreamlands and then save the goddamned world. Got that?’
I’ve done everything I can to sound self-assured but I’m not sure if I’ve come over as crazy or confident. My impassioned speech is as much for me as it is for her – but she doesn’t need to know that.
Esme blinks slowly. She jerks away and I let my hands drop. Then she gets to her feet. ‘What do you need me to do?’
I try not to let my relief show on my face. ‘What do you know about the Sandman?’
She looks confused. ‘Who?’
Damn it. I shake my head. ‘Never mind.’ I’d hoped that spending so much time here would have given Esme insights and knowledge that the rest of us don’t possess. The cute blue-eyed kid helped me with the dragon and he rescued a little girl from a terrifying nightmare. I can’t entirely discount Lilith’s allusions but I can’t give them complete credence either.
I try not to dwell on my disappointment; there are other things to worry about. ‘This is what you have to do,’ I tell her.
***
I’m relieved to see both Bron and Rob in the pub when I get back. At least my message got through, despite the others’ obvious mistrust of me. I loop my arms round both their shoulders and guide them outside. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ I say cheerily.
‘Well, sure,’ Rob drawls, with a quick glance over my head at Bron. ‘Some fresh air will do us good.’
Bron’s usual lazy grin is in place but I note the flicker in his expression. I squeeze his shoulders to reassure him and ignore the curious glances in our direction.
The square is quiet for this hour. I can’t blame people, what with the continued Department presence and the risk of being attacked by dangerous cloud dragons. It doesn’t suit my plan, however. I need more people outside.
‘How’s Dante?’ Rob asks in an undertone.
‘Good, I think. He’s on his way back here.’
‘He’s worried about you.’
I ignore the thrill that his words send through me. ‘How can we get more people out here?’ I ask.
Bron scratches his chin. ‘What are you up to?’
I lower my voice. ‘I’m creating a diversion. We need to get into the Department building to get Ashley’s address and look for information on the Badlands.’
Numerous Department eyes are turned in our direction. We’re only going to get one shot at this so it’s going to have to be good.
Rob is startled. ‘Her real address?’ I nod and he smiles. ‘Leave it to me.’
He takes off his cowboy hat, adjusts the brim and makes a show of placing it back on his head. Then his eyes widen. ‘Lightning! I just saw lightning!’
‘Where?’
He points towards the river and we all follow his finger. ‘There! I’ve got to tell the others.’
He darts back inside the pub. A few seconds later, people are piling out into the street. ‘Where? Where was it?’
There’s a buzz about the crowd. Lightning in the Dreamlands means that’s something’s changed. The last time it happened, the statue at the centre of the square became that of Dean Salib. Nobody knows for sure what makes the changes happen but when they do, it’s big enough that even the threat of monsters looming in from the Badlands won’t keep people away.
‘The other side of the river,’ Rob says.
‘By the ox?’
He frowns. ‘I can’t tell for sure.’
‘We need to get over there!’ an older woman says urgently.
I check my watch nervously. Come on, Esme, I think to myself. Now would be a really good time.
The crowd start moving out, fanning across the square, as if safety in numbers will help them. Despite the excitement, they’re still afraid. That’s a problem, considering what’s about to happen.
Rob looks at me warningly. I give an imperceptible nod and he clears his throat. ‘I’ll show you where it was!’ he shouts. ‘Come with me!’
More figures start to appear from other buildings. At first only a few heads peep out of doors and windows but, when people realise it’s something good rather than lethal, they come out to join him. Much like Ashley, Rob is one of those people who you feel compelled to trust.
‘Come on,’ I mutter to Bron. ‘We need to get as close as possible to the Department building .’
We shuffle round the crowd, heading for the spot closest to the Department doors. Yet another suited man appears, frowning at the commotion. I tighten my fists, worried that everyone will have turned their backs by the time Esme acts. I shouldn’t have worried; suddenly there’s a loud shriek from the far side of the throng of people.
‘It’s coming again! Look! It’s coming again!’
I close my eyes briefly as more people start to scream and run. Bron grips my hand. ‘We have to get out of here, Zoe.’
‘No,’ I tell him. ‘It’s alright.’ I look over towards the castle. If there were less fear and panic, someone would realise that what’s rising up from behind the castle walls is nothing more than black smoke, but the earlier attack has them jumping at shadows.
Department goons start to emerge from their headquarters. I suck in a breath at their number. Are all these people really after as much power as they can get? The thought is beyond disheartening. They push past us and crane their necks to the sky. Many of them are not as brave as they pretend to be and disappear, disapparating back to the safety of their beds. A few start to run in the direction of the castle. There’s chaos; people begin crashing into each other. It’s everyone for themselves.
‘Zoe…’
‘Hush.’
I watch the Department building carefully, counting in my head. When I get to ten and no one else comes out, I tug Bron’s hand. ‘Come on. We won’t have long.’
‘What?’
‘Just
trust me,’ I mutter.
I spy Rob at the far edge of the square. He’s still here, even though he’s one of those who can leave at will. His eyes meet mine as I jerk my head at the panicking people. Understanding crosses his face and he starts to shout, his voice rising above the screams. ‘We need to run!’ he yells. ‘It’s coming again!’
I feel Bron tense but I ignore it. ‘This way.’ I pull him up the steps and, without looking back, run inside with him at my heels.
‘Is this safe?’ he gasps, once we’re past the guard’s empty desk.
‘It’s as safe as it’s ever going to be.’
‘Zoe, I don’t want throw water on your fire but you’re the only one who was able to fight that dragon. I want to help Ashley but there’s a lot of people outside who might get hurt…’
‘It’s nothing. It’s just a fire.’
He starts. ‘Eh?’
‘Esme lit a fire in one of the castle towers. It’s not another monster out there, just smoke. It’ll take the Department a while to get up there and realise that.’ I smile humourlessly. ‘Those who aren’t so scared that they’ve already disapparated.’
‘But…’ he stutters. ‘I saw it. I was sure…’
I drag him to the records room. ‘That’s what fear does,’ I say patiently. ‘You’re afraid that it is another dragon or monster or whatever, so you see something and the rest of your mind fills in the blanks. Believe me, I know. Now come on. We need to find Ashley’s address.’
He seems nonplussed but he does as I ask. He begins opening drawers in a rickety wooden desk while I explore a filing cabinet, rifling through it to find what I need. I abandon it almost as quickly as I started, realising that this side of the room is for the Bubble doors. I spot a smaller filing system across the room and run over.
‘Anything?’ I call out.
‘Not yet,’ Bron mutters.
I bite my lip. The Department people will be back here soon and we can’t afford to let them see us. I fling open drawer after drawer, trying not to disturb the order; I don’t want to leave any trace that we were here. I should be impressed at how many record cards there are but the vast number chills me.
‘This is a needle in a haystack,’ Bron complains. His defeatist attitude is starting to bug me.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ I say casually as I open the fifth drawer. ‘Why have you been telling tales?’
‘Huh?’
‘Dante wasn’t impressed when he found out what happened with the dragon. Did you really have to tell him about it?’
‘Zoe, I didn’t…’
I let out a crow of exultation, interrupting him in mid-sentence. I’ve found it. I pull out Ashley’s card and memorise the address. Manchester. It’s in England but I don’t need a flight to get there; my nervous system might just be able to cope with the journey.
‘I’ve got it. Let’s get out of here.’
‘Zoe,’ Bron says, his voice sounding strange. ‘Who’s Adam?’
I freeze. ‘What?’
‘It’s a piece of paper with your name at the top and the name Adam McDonald underneath. There’s an address too.’ He reads it out. Every molecule in my body turns to ice.
I spin round and snatch it from his hands. It’s Adam’s address, not mine, but that doesn’t make me feel much better. The Mayor must have written it. He found Adam when I stupidly gave him Adam’s name to try and get off his radar. I’d assumed that there would be so many other men with the same name that it wouldn’t cause any problems, but the Mayor was cannier than I gave him credit for.
I swallow hard. It’s my fault that Adam got dragged into everything. It won’t happen again. I ball up the piece of paper and ram it into my mouth, chewing vigorously. It’s harder than it looks in the movies; I gag on the paper and it takes an age to get it down. Bron stares at me, wide-eyed.
‘We need to go,’ I mumble with my mouth still full. I cast a despondent glance around the room. There’s nothing that gives clues about the Badlands and there’s no time to continue searching.
‘Pardon?’
I don’t bother repeating myself, just grab him and propel him out the door. We have to get out of here.
We only just make it in time. As we stumble down the steps and into the now-deserted square, I catch sight of Rob in the far corner, beckoning to us in alarm. ‘They’re coming back,’ he hisses.
We run. All three of us pelt down the street and head for the safety of Esme’s destroyed shop. Bron yanks open the door and we pile inside, gasping for breath.
‘I thought they we were going to see you,’ Rob pants. ‘Another ten seconds and…’
‘They didn’t see us. They’re not as clever as they like to think they are.’
The door opens again and Esme appears. For the first time in days, there’s a real smile on her face. ‘I guess it worked,’ she says.
I reach over and give her a tight hug.
‘Did you get it?’ she asks.
I nod. ‘I did. I’m going to disapparate now.’
‘We’ll come with you,’ Bron says.
‘No.’
Rob touches my arm. ‘I don’t think Dante will be happy about you waltzing off on a rescue mission all on your own.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I tell him with a smile. ‘Besides, I won’t be alone.’
Chapter Eleven
I have indeed no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect – in terror.
Edgar Allen Poe
‘You do realise,’ Rawlins says, her brow furrowed, ‘that I have no jurisdiction in Manchester.’
‘I know.’
‘I mean, it’s not even the same country. Not exactly, anyway.’
‘You’re still the police.’
‘Ms Lydon, I am not a vigilante. I take my job seriously. I can’t just ram down the door of some poor unsuspecting English girl’s house on your say-so. I could be suspended. Or worse. Let me contact someone down there and…’
‘No.’ On this, I am firm. ‘I don’t know who’s involved in her disappearance. It’s safer this way.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Is the world one great big conspiracy theory to you?’
These days, yes. The trouble is, it’s not a theory. I have no way of knowing if the police are part of the Department but many of them have a military, official bent. I’m not taking any chances.
I look at her steadily. ‘How have you been sleeping lately, sergeant?’ It’s a cheap shot but I’ll take what I can get.
She stares at me. ‘Very well. Did you…?’
I blink innocently. ‘Did I what?’
Rawlins scowls. ‘Nothing.’
‘Look,’ I say. ‘You have the day off. We’re just two friends off on a trip. Along the way, we’re going to drop in on an old mate of mine who may or may not be in a lot of trouble.’
‘Since when were we friends?’
I lick my lips. ‘Well, my friends might be worried enough about me to hang around outside my house in the middle of the night to make sure I’m alright. If it wasn’t a friend who was doing that, I’d assume it was a stalker. Or a member of the police who’s harassing…’
‘Fine!’ she snaps. ‘But I’m not doing this in my capacity as a police officer. I’ll be in plain clothes and I’m not bringing my badge.’
It’s the best I could have hoped for.
‘Perfect,’ I say serenely, ignoring her look of annoyance. ‘You’ll have to drive. I don’t have a car.’
***
Despite my attempts to appear calm, I feel the fizz of worry shooting through my veins. Manchester might not be America but it’s still a lot further away than I’ve travelled to since the onset of my agoraphobia. I use my old meditation techniques to settle myself and I fold up a paper bag and put it in my jacket pocket within easy reach. Just in case.
I have to admit that I’m surprised at the interior of Rawlins’ car. This isn’t like the spick-and-span police vehicle she picked me up in once before. Neither
does it match her austere appearance and stern personality. It’s littered with sweet wrappers and chewing gum.
‘I have a sweet tooth,’ she mutters when she catches sight of my expression.
I nod and clear a space on the passenger seat. From the shadow of the oak tree in my front garden, the Chairman eyes me accusingly. He turns his back and starts to wash himself. It’s pouring with rain but the tree offers some protection and the Chairman has always seemed to have a penchant for the wet.
‘Sorry,’ I mouth in his direction. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’
‘Of course,’ Rawlins continues, ‘I might be messy but at least I don’t talk to animals.’
‘You never know,’ I say lightly, holding my breath for a second as she drives off. ‘They might talk back one of these days. Stranger things have happened.’
She shoots me a look from under her lashes. ‘Indeed.’
It’s slow going through the town; the speed limits are restrictive and there’s no way that Rawlins is going to exceed them. She’s a careful driver even though she must have taken an advanced driver’s course with the police. It helps to calm me somewhat. I button my lips and gaze out of the rain-drenched window.
When the houses start to thin out and we reach the outer limits of the town, the tightness in my chest begins. My breathing must alter because I sense Rawlins sending me odd looks. I duck my head down and busy myself picking up the multi-coloured sweet wrappers which litter the car. As long as I concentrate on this job, I won’t worry about how we’re drawing further and further away from the safety of my house. I count in my head as I pick the wrappers up, emptying my mind of nothing more than the reassuring uniformity of numbers. I find an old plastic bag and toss them inside.
We’re just passing the last sign, stating a cheery farewell and ‘Visit us again soon!’, when there’s a click and I realise Rawlins has locked all the car doors. I flinch.
‘I thought it might help,’ she says quietly.
‘It’s unlikely anyone could get into a moving car whether the doors were unlocked or not,’ I reply, impressed at my ability to string a coherent sentence together. ‘I appreciate it though.’