Night Terrors

by Helen Harper

  ‘Show me who they are,’ I command. Carter moans slightly but doesn’t respond. I try again. ‘Carter! Show me their faces.’

  Dante peers at him. ‘I don’t think he can.’

  I curse. ‘They must have worn balaclavas or something. They didn’t want him to identify them in case he caved in to the police.’

  There’s a loud creak and the whole space judders. ‘We’re in a lift,’ I suddenly realise.

  Dante nods. ‘Service lift. It’s probably the only way they could get her out and avoid the CCTV.’

  The door slides open, revealing a well-lit car park. One of the goons shoulders past me and sticks his head out, checking for witnesses. As soon as he’s satisfied that they’re alone, he nods to his companion and Ashley is frogmarched out. She stumbles several times and there’s an odd slowness to her movements. At one point, they drop her arm and she could make a run for it, but she simply sways from side to side. The fear on her face remains.

  ‘She’s drugged,’ I say.

  ‘It makes sense,’ Dante agrees, his voice taut. ‘They’ll be using drugs to keep her awake as well as pliable.’

  ‘Fucking bastards.’

  He touches my arm. ‘We’re getting closer. We’ll get them and we’ll get her.’

  I nod. We’d better.

  The boot of a nearby black saloon car pops open and the goons shove Ashley inside with little ceremony. As soon as the lid is closed, one of the faceless pricks turns to Carter. ‘Tell anyone and you’re a dead man.’ He smiles nastily. ‘We’ll be keeping an eye on you. Believe me, if you tell a soul we will know about it.’

  Sudden dread trickles through me. ‘We need to leave now.’

  ‘We don’t know where they’re taking her.’

  I jab a finger at the car’s number plate. ‘We have enough. But if the Department is keeping tabs on Mr Carter here, then they’ll be doing it…’

  ‘Through his dreams,’ Dante finishes grimly. ‘Let’s leave.’

  ‘What do I do now?’ Carter asks forlornly. ‘What do I do?’

  I give him a look of derision. ‘Go screw yourself.’

  Then I tilt my head up and disapparate.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The interpretation of dreams is a great art.

  Paracelsus

  I let Dante tend my wounds. They look a lot worse than they are – that’s what I tell myself, anyway. His expression is tight with anger but for once it’s not directed at me.

  We’ve not been awake long when Rawlins returns. I give her the details of the dream, including the all-important number plate.

  ‘Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get into for this?’ she asks.

  I sigh. ‘If there was a choice, I wouldn’t ask. But how can I explain to the rest of your police buddies how I suddenly know the number plate of Ashley’s kidnappers?’

  ‘I’m just saying.’ She’s very pragmatic. I’m still surprised at how easily she’s taking all this on board. I’m not sure I’d believe it if I didn’t have the proof of my own experiences. ‘I’ll get onto it straight away.’ She sweeps up her bag with her laptop. ‘The wifi is better downstairs. I’ll be back as soon as I have something.’

  Dante and I sit in silence after she’s gone. He dabs at the streaks of blood and occasionally mutters under his breath. I sit rigidly, trying not to let him see how much it hurts. His closeness, not to mention my bare skin, is giving me palpitations. It’s something to focus on besides the pain, I suppose.

  ‘Ashley’s been missing for some time now,’ Dante says quietly. ‘She might not be…’

  I forestall him. ‘Don’t. Right now, we have to believe that she’s still alright.’

  He runs a hand through his hair; his silver eyes look tired and dull. ‘They must have some inkling by now that she’s not the dreamweaver.’

  I agree. Considering how forward Kevin was in throwing my name at the Department, it doesn’t make sense that they still think it’s Ashley.

  ‘I wish we could have seen their faces,’ I mutter. ‘It’s possible I already know them. After all, there are enough of the bloody wankers hanging around the Dreamlands. If we knew exactly who had Ashley, we’d be in a better position.’

  He rubs my arm. ‘We’re getting close.’

  My mouth curls up into a smile but it doesn’t reach my eyes. ‘I really hope so.’ I wince as he ties the last of my bandages. ‘I don’t understand the Department,’ I complain, as he starts to tidy everything away. ‘The Mayor was in charge of our zone, but no one seems to be in charge of the Department. Someone has to be calling the shots.’

  ‘There’s not.’

  I ball up my fists. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’

  He passes me a bottle of water. ‘Think of the Department as a secret society. The Mayor set it up and then decided it was getting too big for its boots so he withdrew. Apparently the feeling was mutual; he wielded a great deal of power and the Department didn’t like it.’

  I mull it over. ‘So they don’t want any one person to be in charge. They don’t want to be given orders, even if it’s by one of their own.’

  ‘Pretty much. They’re from all over the world, remember, and they are powerful people within their own right. They work on their mutual interests, rather than attempt to lord it over each other. That’s why they’re so dangerous.’

  ‘Because we can take down one man but we can’t destroy an entire organisation.’ I feel the frustrated solitude of being the sole dreamweaver. One of me and dozens of members of the Department.

  ‘Indeed.’ He smiles. ‘But we didn’t have you before. Now there’s a chance we could take over the Department and run it ourselves.’

  I’m not quite convinced of that. Unwilling to voice my fears, however, I change the subject. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you work for the Mayor?’

  His smile vanishes. ‘I thought you didn’t hold that against me.’

  ‘I don’t. I’m just … curious, I guess.’

  Dante sighs. ‘For a while he had lofty ideals. He could be very convincing.’

  I nod. ‘I saw him in action. Even when he was murdering people and torturing animals for his own gain, he could be incredibly persuasive.’

  Dante stands up and walks to the window. Even from behind, his wiry muscles are visible but I ignore the kick of lust. There are more important things to worry about.

  ‘It started with a job,’ he says finally. ‘A kid who went missing.’

  ‘This was part of your bounty-hunter work?’ I still can’t believe that’s his job title. I’m an IT nerd and he’s something from an action movie.

  ‘Yes.’ He stares out at the night sky. ‘Her name was Lacey. Fourteen years old, good family. There was no valid reason for her disappearance. The police traced her to an address in Birmingham and had reasonable evidence to suggest that a man called Thomas Beaufort had taken her.’ His voice is strained with the pain of the memories. I keep my lips buttoned, sensing that Dante is baring a lot of himself to me. ‘But there was no sign of either of them. By the time I was brought in as an outside contractor to look for Beaufort, she’d already been gone for five days. In terms of kidnappings, that’s a lifetime.’

  I clench my teeth. Ashley has been missing for three days. I realise my hands are twisting the duvet underneath me and painfully release them, smoothing it over.

  ‘Were you using the Bubble to find him?’

  ‘I tried but there are too many people. Too many doors. It would take a lifetime to investigate them on my own.’

  I think of my own efforts to beat back the Badlands’ beasts. I know that feeling.

  ‘Anyway,’ Dante continues, ‘to cut a long story short, the Mayor told me he had resources. He promised that he had records that included Beaufort. He said he could help if I went and worked for him.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘He did.’ His voice is heavy. ‘It was too late. Lacey was already gone; Beaufort had strangled her.’

  I take
a sharp breath. ‘Jesus. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’d agreed to work for the Mayor so I did,’ Dante says bitterly. ‘What I didn’t find out until much later is that Beaufort’s records had been in the Mayor’s possession for months. One of his goons had stumbled across Beaufort and the Mayor had him watched – he’d been visiting Beaufort’s dreams long before Lacey happened. The Mayor was more interested in seeing what made a psychopath tick than in helping anyone. Even a fourteen-year-old girl. He told me he couldn’t have saved her but he didn’t even try.’

  My heart goes out to him. I stand up and walk over, wrapping my arms round him. He responds and hugs me back.

  ‘I did some bad things, Zoe. There’s a lot I did when I worked for the Mayor that I’m ashamed of.’

  ‘That was in the past,’ I tell him softly. ‘We can’t worry about what happened yesterday. We have to focus on what we’re going to do tomorrow.’

  His arms tighten round me. ‘Rawlins is right to be wary of me,’ he whispers. ‘I’m not a good person.’

  I reach up on my tiptoes and whisper back, ‘Yes, you are.’

  ***

  My shirt, which is still damp from Rawlins’ earlier attempts to wake me, is now also covered in bloodstains. I do the best that I can to cover them by zipping up my jacket. Considering how pale my face is when I catch sight of it in the mirror, the last thing I need is a good Samaritan spotting me and becoming concerned. I don’t have time to deal with nice people right now.

  I feel an odd lurch as we leave the hotel room and stop in my tracks. The hotel corridor might be as silent as the grave but the change of scenery still affects me. Dante throws me a worried look while I force a smile. ‘It’s okay. I’m fine.’

  ‘You know it’s probably safer out here than being asleep in there.’

  I grimace. ‘Just because you’re right doesn’t mean my subconscious understands.’

  A muscle jerks in his cheek. ‘If Rawlins finds the owner of the car, you should stay here while we go looking for Ashley.’

  I shake my head vehemently. Not this again. ‘No way. Stop mollycoddling me.’

  ‘Hear me out. This isn’t about treating you like a child.’ He smiles. ‘That’s not how I think of you. But you’re in a lot of pain and you found it hard to leave the hotel room. How’s it going to be when you leave the hotel and traipse around the dark streets of an unknown city?’

  ‘It’s Ashley.’

  ‘You’ll get in the way, Zoe. It’s easier if you stay here.’

  I narrow my eyes. ‘You mean like you got in the way in Carter’s dream?’

  ‘Touché.’ He scratches his head. ‘How about we do a deal? Next time you need me out of the way in a dream, I’ll disapparate.’

  ‘If I leave you and Rawlins to go after Ashley on your own, you mean.’

  He nods. His eyes rake my face and I sense his desperation.

  I know he means well but I can’t commit to that kind of promise. I can’t sit in a hotel room twiddling my thumbs while someone else rescues Ashley. She’s in this terrible position because of me. ‘Let’s see what Rawlins has to say first,’ I say, hedging my bets.

  Dante frowns but lets it go for now. Thank goodness.

  We find Rawlins in the tiny hotel bar. She beams at us when we arrive. ‘I was just about to come back and tell you the good news.’

  I stop breathing. ‘You’ve found her?’

  ‘I’ve found the car owner,’ she says, pointing to her laptop. ‘But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve found her.’ Despite the note of caution, there’s no denying Rawlins’ excitement.

  ‘Where?’ Even Dante can barely contain himself. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘It’s registered to someone called Marc Dupont. He lives less than two miles from here.’

  ‘Perfect.’ He smiles grimly. ‘I’ll drive.’

  I jump up and receive a glare from him. Rawlins doesn’t move. ‘It’s almost three o’clock in the morning. We can’t go round and knock on his door. There are protocols to observe.’

  ‘You’re right. You can’t jeopardise your position. I’ll go and you stay here with Zoe.’ Dante looks at me pointedly. ‘Make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.’

  ‘Whoa! You can’t go on your own.’

  ‘Oh, yes I can.’

  ‘Oh no…’ I stop. This isn’t a freaking pantomime. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  Dante folds his arms. ‘We agreed you’d stay behind.’

  ‘Hello? We agreed nothing.’

  Rawlins stands up. ‘It’s still the middle of the night. It’s not appropriate.’

  Dante cocks his head thoughtfully. ‘It is the middle of the night. The Department has taken Ashley. Where does the Department go at night?’

  I shrug, puzzled. ‘The Dreamlands?’

  ‘Exactly. Go back to sleep. Apparate in the Dreamlands and you can keep an eye on the Department’s men.’

  I lift my eyebrows. ‘All of them? That’s ridiculous. There are loads of them around. Any of them could be holding Ashley.’

  Dante snaps his fingers, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. ‘I’ll take a photo and send it to you so you’ll know who to look for. If you can keep them asleep, it’ll be easy for me to grab Ashley.’

  ‘If she’s there,’ Rawlins begins. ‘There’s nothing to say that she will be.’

  I look out of the window. It’s very dark out there and my stomach churns at the thought. Dante’s right: wandering around the streets of Manchester will make me nothing more than a liability. If I have to stop to throw up or deal with a panic attack, I’ll slow us down or draw attention. In the Dreamlands, however, I can be Ninja Zoe. There I have a chance.

  I shake my head at Rawlins. ‘Actually, I think she’ll be there. They’re not going to risk moving her around too much. Even with the drugs in her system, if she made a noise while in the boot of that car and a passerby heard her, the game would be up. I’m betting they’re not going to take that chance.’ I jab Dante in the chest. ‘If you don’t send me those photos, I’ll come after you.’

  He grins unexpectedly. There’s no mistaking the relief in his eyes. ‘I’ll be counting on it.’

  ***

  It doesn’t take him long. Less than twenty minutes after Rawlins and I wave him off and return to the hotel room to wait, my phone beeps.

  There are three photos in total, three slumbering faces in peaceful repose. Three wankers who’ve brutally kidnapped Ashley. I shouldn’t be surprised that the first one is the same bastard who accosted me in the street and grabbed my throat. I glare at his sleeping image for a moment then put the phone down.

  I can’t imagine how on earth Dante gained entrance to their lair so quickly. I guess it pays to be a bounty hunter. He follows the photos up with a quick text; he’s not found Ashley but there are a still a few rooms to check. I can’t help feeling that by the time I apparate into the Dreamlands, he’ll already be back here. That was probably his plan.

  Rawlins apparently has the same thought. ‘Can you really just fall asleep again so easily?’

  I shrug. ‘I’m getting better at it. At least these days I manage it without a dose of valium first.’

  She looks shocked. I half smile and lie down. Counting slowly in my head, I close my eyes and get comfortable. As long as I don’t try too hard, I should manage it. I let my counting drift into mental images of ambling sheep. One, two, three, four… My ears prickle. It worked.

  It irks me that I’m still apparating in the forest. This time I sprint, making it to the fringes of the town in record time. Dante’s probably found Ashley by now. I imagine him carrying her out of the front door, right under the Department goons’ noses.

  I slow to a walk to cross the border from darkness into brilliant sunshine then I make a show of jumping onto the nearest roof. If this is where the Department likes to hang out, then this is where I’ll be. I crane my neck round and spy four of its men almost immediately, alt
hough the nearest one is some distance away. I frown at his back, trying to decide whether he’s one of the three abductors. That’s when I hear the soft moan.

  I freeze, spinning round and glancing down. When I see who it is, my heart skips a beat. Forgetting about the Department altogether, I throw myself down again.

  ‘Ashley!’

  Her hair is limp and straggly and her eyes are dull. There’s a painful looking bruise across one cheekbone. ‘I’m the dreamweaver,’ she whispers.

  Oh God. I grab hold of her arm – just in time, as she almost topples over. It may have only been a few days but she already feels as insubstantial as a ghost. I crouch down and pull her onto my back, holding her legs so that she’s perched piggy-back style. ‘Put your arms round my neck,’ I order.

  For a moment she doesn’t respond, then I feel her linking her hands together and holding on. I dart worried looks up and down the street but thankfully we’re too much on the periphery of town to bump into anyone. Taking advantage of the situation, I plunge straight back into the trees.

  Ashley moans.

  ‘Hush, it’s alright. We’re coming for you.’

  ‘I’m the dreamweaver,’ she whispers again.

  Guilt ripples through me. As much as she despises me, she’s been lying through her teeth to the Department to keep their focus on herself instead of me. No wonder they’ve been so keen to believe that she’s the one they want: it’s what she’s been telling them.

  ‘You stupid girl,’ I murmur. ‘You should have given me up the first chance you got.’

  As soon as we’re far enough in, I come to a halt and gently lay her down. ‘Are you hurt?’ I demand.

  She looks at me with her large, bruised eyes. There’s a glimmer of recognition. ‘Bitch.’

  Relief washes through me. ‘Yes! Yes! I’m the bitch. I’m the one who’s put you in this position. Where are you, Ashley?’

  She bites her bottom lip and turns her head. ‘Forest. Dreamlands.’ She starts to cry. ‘Am I sleeping? Am I really sleeping?’

  ‘You must be.’ I squeeze her arm. ‘Ashley, do you know where you are? Are there three men?’