by Helen Harper
‘It’s not been that long,’ I chide.
‘It feels that long.’ He pulls back slightly, his lips at my ear. ‘Esme filled me in.’
I smile. ‘Good. Do you have what I need?’
He grins, his blond hair flopping over his forehead and the cheeky twinkle in his eye filling me with optimism. ‘Esme’s gone one better.’ He reaches into his coat and pulls out a can.
I stare at it, delight coursing through me. ‘That’s perfect!’ I’d asked her to search for chalk or paint, anything like that. What she’s managed to unearth is far better: a spray can of lurid green paint.
Dante moves up beside me. ‘What’s that?’ His voice is a low growl; he’s obviously unhappy about being kept out of the loop.
Bron doesn’t answer. Instead he looks to me, as if for approval. Undaunted, I turn to Dante and force my mouth into an even wider smile. ‘Isn’t it perfect? Now I can graffiti all those names anywhere I please! And because I’m the dreamweaver, they’ll stay there until I decide otherwise.’ I rock back on my heels, satisfied. ‘Every single Department member will be unmasked. Jepsen and Hendricks are already screwed. It won’t be long until the others are too.’
Dante smiles back. He seems to have recovered from his earlier shock and is getting better at dissembling. ‘That’s great.’
‘I know!’ I crow.
There’s a muffled shout as if from a great distance. I abandon my self-congratulatory mood and look round. Several of the other Travellers hastily look away when I try to meet their eyes. I scratch my head. ‘Hang on…’
Dante curses. ‘I heard it too.’
The shout comes again but louder this time. Of all the bloody times… Without thinking, I thrust the spray can back at Bron then pull the paper out of my pocket. ‘Here! Take these and keep them safe. You can’t disapparate or they’ll disappear, Bron. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Bron looks confused but he takes them. ‘Is everything okay?’
Dante’s already starting to disappear. I clench my teeth. If this is Ingold’s doing, I’m going to be mightily pissed off. ‘We’re being woken up,’ I tell him.
A shocked expression crosses Bron’s normally happy-go-lucky face. ‘We? You’re with that prick in real life too?’
My answer is ripped away from me. My eyelids flutter open and I’m back in the car in the dreary service station car park. Outside are the two security men who started following us back at the airport. Bloody hell.
Dante is already opening the car door and beginning to remonstrate with them. The nearest one puts his hands up and tells him in Glaswegian brogue to calm down.
‘We weren’t doing anything wrong!’ Dante barks. His fists are clenched and his skin is turning a mottled red.
I stare, fascinated. I’ve never seen him lose his cool to this extent before.
‘It’s a two-hour parking limit here, sir. Any longer and you have to pay.’ The security guy checks his watch. ‘You’re already thirty-two minutes over.’
Dante shifts his weight. Before this gets out of hand, I roll down the window and pop my head out. ‘Let’s go, Dante. We can get more sleep at home.’
His jaw is tight but he gives me a brief nod, followed by an extra glare at the two men for good measure. Then he gets back into the car and revs the engine. I don’t have the chance to re-align my seat and re-fasten my seatbelt before he takes off, gravel flying up from the car’s wheels.
‘There’s no rush,’ I say conversationally. ‘They probably know exactly where we’re heading.’
He grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white. ‘That’s not the point. We were getting somewhere,’ he snaps. ‘Now Bron, of all people, has the list.’
‘We can trust him.’ Well, I can; of that, I’m certain.
For a moment, Dante doesn’t respond. Then he relaxes slightly. ‘You’re right. Everything will be fine.’
I adjust my seat, keeping a watch on him from the corner of my eye. It’s fear, I realise: Dante is scared. That means there’s no doubt now. Whether the Department are going to prove loyal to him or not, he’s more aligned with them than he is with me. The realisation no longer does anything other than harden my resolve.
***
A couple of hours later, we finally make it home. I didn’t expect to feel such a surge of warmth when I saw my little cul-de-sac, with its familiar houses and familiar foliage. The tree that always blocked my view stands proud and tall, as if waiting for my return. I let out a happy sigh. Until I see my front door.
‘What the hell…?’ I gasp.
It’s hanging off its hinges. Despite my expensive and supposedly state-of-the-art, steel-reinforced door, someone has managed to barrel their way in easily. I can’t believe my neighbours left it like that. Surely one of them would have boarded it up or at least tried to close it?
I half-leap, half-fall out of the car door and run up the path, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. Not all that long ago the thought of this scenario sent me in paroxysms of shuddering fear. I stare open-mouthed; through the yawning gap, I can see utter devastation. My hall table has been upended and there are books and papers strewn all over the floor.
In my peripheral vision, I see something fluttering. I turn, not quite sure what to expect. One of my neighbours, who’s stepped outside, sees me and then rushes back in again. From across the street, net curtains rustle.
‘Everyone’s watching,’ I mutter.
Dante doesn’t say anything; he simply takes my hand and squeezes it. I bite down the urge to slam my fist into his face. I walk forward, gingerly ducking under the ruined door, and take in a full picture of the devastation.
My computer is gone. The sofa has been ripped, the cushions sliced and the foam contents poured onto the floor. In the kitchen, every single cupboard lies open. Some are relatively untouched, others have been ransacked. I’m too shocked to cry. All I can do is stare in horror.
‘It was the police,’ Dante says. ‘They must have got a search warrant after you were accused…’ His voice drifts off.
‘I’m not a fucking terrorist and they know that.’ I press the base of my palms against my temples. Rawlins would have known they’d do this; it’s probably standard procedure. I guess she thought she was sparing me more worry and anguish by not mentioning it but a little forewarning would have helped.
I bend down to start picking up broken crockery and almost immediately cut myself on a shard of porcelain. I wince in pain. Dante pulls me gently to my feet and leads me over to the sink, running the cut under cool water. ‘It’s only stuff,’ he says. ‘All this can be replaced.’
‘It’s not my belongings,’ I tell him distantly, watching the blood mingle with the water and coil away down the plughole. ‘It’s the invasion.’
‘You’re still breathing,’ he responds. ‘You’re not having a panic attack. You’re not running upstairs to hide in the wardrobe.’
‘The wardrobe is obviously no longer safe.’ I sigh. ‘You’re right, though. Once upon a time this would have destroyed me.’ I guess I now have more important things to worry about than the police breaking into my house and rummaging through everything I own while breaking half of it. Not to mention that my neighbours clearly think I’m hiding bomb-making equipment in the garden shed.
‘We can work it out later,’ Dante soothes. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
I smooth over my shaking hands and manage to nod. What a freaking mess.
***
I’m just finishing the dregs, although the tea has done little to make me feel better, when there’s a knock on the door and I almost jump out of my skin. Dante leaps to his feet and goes to the window. There’s an irritated flash in his eyes. ‘It’s your mother,’ he says.
Bloody hell. She was supposed to stay in Switzerland with Rawlins and Adam until all this was over. What on earth is she doing here?
‘It’s probably better if she doesn’t talk to you,’ I say, thinking quickly
. ‘You’re not her favourite person in the world.’
Dante raises an eyebrow as she knocks again, this time more insistently. ‘She doesn’t like me?’
‘She doesn’t trust you. And she’s … over-protective.’
He considers this for a moment. ‘Fair enough. I need to take a shower anyway. May I…?’ He points upstairs.
Beyond relieved, I nod. ‘There are clean towels in the cupboard.’ Or at least there used to be; they’re probably strewn all over the floor now.
I watch Dante pad upstairs then go to the door, undoing the complicated locks. When I finally open it, my mother is literally wringing her hands. ‘What took so long?’ she shrieks. ‘What happened to your door? Did Dante do this? Was it the Department? Did…?’
I gesture to her impatiently to be quiet then step out and try to pull the door shut behind me so we can talk without being overheard. Unfortunately, the door is in such a state that it won’t close properly. I stop trying and focus on keeping my voice low. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I hiss. ‘This isn’t the plan.’
‘We decided it would be a good idea to come back and keep an eye on you.’
‘We?’
She sniffs. ‘Me. You’re my daughter, after all.’
I rake my fingers through my hair in exasperation. ‘You don’t need to look after me! I’m perfectly capable of managing this on my own.’ I ignore her raised eyebrows and pointed look at my ruined front door and continue. ‘Not to mention that it’s dangerous for you to be here too.’
Her expression doesn’t change. ‘I thought you’d be pleased to see me.’
‘I am pleased. But I’m worried as well.’ I grimace. ‘I only spoke to you half a day ago. Where’s Adam? Is he with you?’
‘They’re keeping him in the Swiss hospital for another day. Rawlins was with him. She insisted on staying a bit longer for some reason. She’s on her way back here now.’
My alarm increases. ‘So you’re here on your own?’
She suddenly beams. ‘No. The Chairman is here.’ She points behind her. His carrier is there and I can make out his furry shape curled into a tight ball. As if aware that he’s being spoken about, he starts to stir, lifts his head and looks round.
‘Does Ingold know you’re here?’ I ask.
‘Of course!’ she trills. ‘How do you think I made it back so quickly?’ She jerks her head to the left and I spot the car waiting at the corner, with tinted windows and gleaming exterior.
At least she’s not alone but I’m terrified of what might happen if Dante spots the car. At least the bathroom is round the other side of the house. ‘You still shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous.’
She dismisses my concerns airily. ‘Ingold has been talking to me about all that making him a Traveller business.’
I immediately still. ‘He has, has he?’ No wonder he didn’t object to her coming back so early.
‘Yes. I’ve been mulling it over and I’ve changed my mind. I actually think it’s a wonderful idea. You make him and all those other nice policemen into dream people and then you no longer have to worry. You can relax.’ She gives me a meaningful glance. The obvious destruction of my once perfect little house has affected her more than she’s letting on. ‘You’ll be safe.’
‘You already said you don’t want people inside your mind. Even if I have the ability to grant him access, that’s what would end up happening.’ I shake my head. ‘It’s not right. Besides,’ I add, ‘I’ll still be the only dreamweaver. I’ll still be in danger.’
She pats my shoulder. ‘You’ve not seen the news, have you?’
I decide against telling her that my television is face down on the floor with its screen smashed. ‘No,’ I say slowly. ‘Why?’
‘A certain Danish CEO is currently in custody for possessing pornography of a rather questionable nature on his computer. There was an anonymous tip-off.’
I suck in a breath. ‘Seriously?’ That seemed both coincidental and unlikely.
She nods eagerly. ‘And that other fellow, Hendricks, has had to deal with a terrible fire. His whole house has burnt down. He barely escaped with his life.’ She says this last part with considerable relish – and a tinge of regret that I don’t think I’m imagining.
‘I don’t understand. Did Ingold…’
‘No. He says they had nothing to do with it. It must be someone else.’
I think of all those people in the Western European Dreamlands town who heard me denounce both Jepsen and Hendricks and suddenly I feel faintly nauseous. By revealing their identities, I opened them up for other Travellers to take their revenge for years of dictatorial leadership.
‘Wow,’ I whisper. I might not have liked them and they might be guilty of many things but I wouldn’t have wished for this. Vigilante justice is more up Dante’s street than mine. Do two wrongs make a right? Somehow I don’t think so.
‘Karma,’ my mother says. ‘They got their just desserts.’ She grins. ‘And now, when you get the other Department names, they’ll be sure to back off because they won’t want the same thing happening to them.’
I mull it over. No wonder the Department are so desperate to keep their real personas hidden; they knew this kind of thing would happen if the other Travellers found out who they are.
My mother peers at me. ‘You don’t seem very happy.’
‘It’s a lot to take in,’ I respond weakly.
Something flickers in her eyes. Damn her for seeing right through me. ‘Now hear me, Zoe,’ she says, a stern note entering her voice. ‘This is not your fault. These are evil men who would have hurt you. You are not responsible for the actions of others. Free will, remember? Isn’t that what you keep fighting for? Isn’t that why you don’t want Ingold to become a Traveller?’
‘I guess,’ I mumble. It still makes me feel uncomfortable.
There’s a thump from upstairs. My mother scowls. ‘He’s here, isn’t he? Dante.’
‘I need to keep him on my side. He knows you’re here but he’ll be suspicious if you stay around for too long. You should go home.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to have to go to sleep again.’ I sigh. ‘Or all this might blow up in our faces.’
‘It’s already done that, dear. Literally.’
I grimace. ‘Yeah,’ I say reluctantly. ‘I guess it has.’
There’s another twitch of curtains from the house across the road. I throw a glare in their direction. ‘Go home,’ I repeat. ‘And try to stay there.’ I push my mother out of the door. She’s not a good enough liar to deal with Dante; something in her expression will give her away, even if her mouth doesn’t betray her.
‘Call me if you need me, darling,’ she says. ‘Day or night. I don’t like the idea of you alone with that man. And anyone can waltz in through your door.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I reassure her. I hold up the pet carrier. ‘Besides, I have the Chairman to help me.’
She casts a dubious look in his direction. ‘I hardly think Chairman Meow is going to be much use.’ He stares back at her with languid green eyes before yawning. She rolls her eyes. ‘You should get a dog,’ she advises. ‘And train it to kill.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ I give her a gentle nudge. ‘Off you go. Catch up with Henry or whatever.’
She purses her lips. ‘After all the excitement we’ve had on our travels, I’m not sure Henry is going to cut the mustard any more. Having an illicit affair was exciting but it’s nothing compared to tearing around Europe with my terrorist daughter.’
I roll my eyes. She drifted between two emotional states, either bored out of her mind or absolutely terrified. I can put my hand on my heart and state quite categorically that there was no point at which she was excited but it’s nice of her to make light of everything, I suppose. If she were anyone else, she’d probably disown me.
‘There’s nothing wrong with a quiet life,’ I say primly. ‘Now go.’
She nods, her expression su
ddenly serious. ‘Don’t let him hurt you.’
‘I won’t,’ I promise.
I make an attempt at closing the door – although there’s still a gap of half a foot no matter how I prop it up – and bring the Chairman indoors. If I thought he would be happy to be home, I’m sadly mistaken. When I open his cage door he pokes his head out slightly, glances round and then withdraws back into the cage, unimpressed.
‘What?’ I ask. ‘This isn’t good enough for you any more? The mess bothers you? You’d rather still be travelling?’
He lets out a tiny meow in response. I pull back and study him. If Ingold is right and I can create Travellers, in theory I could bring the Chairman into the Dreamlands. It seems unlikely; I’ve never been to his dreams. Animals must work on a different system to humans. All the same, if I try I can tell Ingold that I gave it a shot and it didn’t work. The decision about whether to grant him and his cronies access will be taken out of my hands.
The Chairman curls up and closes his eyes. As good as I am at falling asleep when I need to, I’ve got nothing on a cat. I reach out and stroke his head then bite my bottom lip and concentrate. ‘You are now a Traveller,’ I intone, feeling utterly ridiculous. ‘You can visit the Dreamlands when you sleep.’
Nothing happens. I will my energy into his body but he doesn’t even twitch. Satisfied, I lean back on my haunches. Well, I tried. Sort of.
‘What’s going on?’ Dante asks from behind.
I jump and turn guiltily. He’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped round his waist to cover his modesty; it leaves little to the imagination. He’s probably done it deliberately. But at least he’s holding his mobile phone. ‘My, er, mother brought the Chairman round.’
He looks at the carrier. ‘Hi, Kitty.’
The Chairman ignores him. I scratch my head. ‘She also brought some news.’
Dante raises an eyebrow. ‘Oh yes?’
I tell him the truth about Jepsen and Hendricks. His pupils flare and he sits down heavily on the sofa, the towel baring far more of his thighs than I want to see. ‘Wow,’ he says. ‘That’s…’ He pauses, unable to find the words and shakes his head.
