‘Go ahead,’ I say softly. ‘Keep up with those insults. At some point you’ll realise that I’m the one the sharp pointy sword and you’re entirely at my mercy.’
He snarls suddenly, ‘Kill me and you’ll never make it out of here alive.’
‘Maybe not, but I’m prepared for that.’ I lean down until my face is close to his. ‘Maybe it’ll be worth it.’
He gazes up at me and, for the first time, I see fear reflected in the brilliant blue depths of his eyes. ‘You see? It’s already changing you, it’s taking over. All dreamweavers are the same.’
I mull over his words carefully. ‘You’re saying all this is my fault? People are suffering because of me? Because I’m going to grow too big for my boots and want to annexe your cloudy hell hole?’
He smiles. ‘Exactly. You think you’re getting stronger. It’s true, you are – but you’re also losing yourself. You’ll become power hungry. The only way we can survive is to strike first.’
My shoulders drop. ‘I’m not evil.’
‘No. You’re human. I’ve been here since the dawn of the human race. I know how the world works. I know how humans work. I’ve seen inside enough heads to appreciate the truth. You would attack us to gain more strength and destroy everything.’
‘How do I stop it from happening?’ I whisper. ‘How do I stop myself from becoming like that?’
‘There’s only one way.’
I loosen my grip on the sword. The Sandman doesn’t react. ‘What?’
‘Give me what you have. I can take your skills and put them to good use. I help children.’ He points to the fallen sack of sand. ‘That is for helping. I can control the Badlands and stop more terrors from happening. You’ll just mess things up. I made a mistake by attacking first but I’ve seen it happen so many times. You’ll try to take us over and, in return, you’ll destroy your world. All those wars in your global past, they happened because dreamweavers thought they were superior. They thought they could take all the power for themselves. You’ll screw it up. You’re just not strong enough.’ His eyes meet mine. ‘How could you be?’
I look away. I have been worried about my potential to manipulate people; I hadn’t considered how large a scale that manipulation could be.
‘Even when you win, you’ll lose,’ he continues.
I nod. ‘There is great potential to screw things up,’ I admit.
He raises himself up on his elbows while I move the sword from his neck; his expression is that of an anxious child. ‘You’re doing the right thing. I have the experience to do what needs to be done.’ He smiles at the collection of horrendous creatures. ‘They will do my bidding and I will keep them back. Maybe with your skills, I can even diminish them. Together we can win.’
‘I don’t know much about previous dreamweavers,’ I admit. ‘Hell, I don’t even know much about my own dreamweaving.’
‘I can help you,’ he soothes.
I smile. ‘That’s kind but the thing is, I’m a quick study. You make an art out of messing with people’s heads. That’s what the terrors are about. And, unlike previous dreamweavers, if there’s one thing I understand it’s terror. I understand how terror twists your mind and warps your thoughts. It forces every iota of logic into something that makes no sense. It really, really fucks you up.’ I shake my head. ‘Believe me, I know. And I’m just not terrified of you.’
I adjust my hold on the blade and swing it upwards. The Sandman’s face contorts, twisting once more from the sweet young face of a boy to something far more evil. I strike downwards in a swift movement because, unlike him, I’m not a monster: I can be merciful.
I drop the sword and stare at the fiends. They’ve not twitched but if I play this wrongly, I won’t make it out of here.
I clear my throat and hope they can understand me. ‘He couldn’t defeat me physically so he tried to defeat me emotionally. But I’m stronger than that and I’ve got more self-confidence. I don’t want to take over the Badlands; I don’t even want the Dreamlands! He tried to play me with words but he still sent you all out to cause terror where none was needed.’ My face twists. ‘He went after children and then pretended to be one himself.’ I tilt my chin. ‘Stay here. Stay away from the Bubble and the town and the forest, and I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll even make sure future dreamweavers don’t come here. Everybody wins.’ I think about what I’ve just said and add, ‘Apart from the Sandman, of course.’
‘If we don’t feed, we die!’ a voice yells.
‘I’m guessing that wasn’t a dragon that just spoke,’ I say drily. No one cracks a smile. I sweep a glance over them all, estimating their numbers. This is why I don’t want anything to do with power – compromise is never fun. But the Sandman was right about two things: the Badlands have been around far longer than I have, and my understanding about how this works is almost non-existent. If I make too many changes, I could disrupt all kinds of things. As much as I want to ban them completely, that could cause more harm than good.
If I can’t destroy the fiends then I have to negotiate. Terror is as much a part of our world as anything else. If I’m going to help Lilith get access to feed on sex – or at least not stop her – then I can’t prevent this lot from staying away either.
‘Fine,’ I snap. ‘One visit each, once every month. You never visit the same door twice.’ I point randomly at the crowd. ‘I will check. If you step out of line in any way, you will meet the same fate as the Sandman. No rapes. No assaults.’
Rather than fear or anger, there’s a collective sigh of relief. I hope I’m doing the right thing. If I deny them entirely then who knows how bad the situation could get. This way, the night terrors are kept to a minimum and the bloody monsters don’t starve. Dying makes creatures – probably even these creatures – violently unpredictable. I hope this compromise makes them controllable and me a benign dictator.
I shiver. I’m not happy but I don’t see what choice I’ve got.
I throw down the sword and turn, facing towards the town. I can’t see a damn thing through the smoke. My stomach lurches at the thought of making the return journey, even though I have my air bubble to help me, but I can’t lose my confidence now. I’m not out of the woods yet.
‘Wait! What do we call you?’ Huh? ‘If we need to contact you?’
I don’t want to turn round and see what manner of beastie is asking that question but appearing indecisive or confused is not good idea. Neither do I wish to give them my real name. I think quickly. I have to give them something or they may not let me leave. There’s about a thousand of them; those odds are not good.
‘Zorb,’ I say finally. ‘Call me Zorb.’ It sounds like some weird alien leader but it’ll have to do.
I stride away. Thankfully, the crowd parts and I pass through. I keep my back straight and walk without looking back. At one point I stumble and fear rips through me. I’m some distance away from them but my legs are close to giving away, not from pain or injury from the fight but because I’m more scared than I realised.
I breathe slowly, counting in my head. I bloody did it, I remind myself, avoiding looking at the dark smoke which even now threatens me. I won.
Chapter Nineteen
The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.
Paul Valery
I step back into the Dreamlands without further mishap. It’s strange looking at the buildings from this angle; everything is different somehow. Maybe that’s because I feel different.
The sunlight is glaring and I shield my eyes until my vision adjusts. I walk forward until I reach the flowers then I inhale their sickly-sweet scent. It tickles my nostrils but it doesn’t distract from the merciless throbbing across my scalp. Long hair, I decide, is not particularly conducive to being a warrior, even a dream warrior who in real life can’t clamber over a wooden fence. I shrug. I guess being feeble in the real world doesn’t matter. Not now.
I turn and stare back at the Badlands. They look exactly the same but I no l
onger feel deep foreboding when I stare at them. I don’t even register the sulphuric smell any more.
Despite the throbbing pain in my body, I’m exultant. Adrenaline still races through me and I grin from ear to ear. I see distant figures moving about the streets of the town; none of them realise yet what I’ve achieved. Screw the Department; if I can go into the damn Badlands and take down the Sandman, it will be a piece of cake, regardless of how many of its people there are.
The urge to find Dante and share the news overtakes me. I know he’ll be pissed off that I lied but, when he realises how successful I’ve been, I’m sure he’ll get over it. All’s well that ends well.
Assuming that he’s still in the Dreamlands, I try to work out where he might be. He said he was staying behind to look out for Ashley but he definitely wasn’t with her. The only other thing that makes sense is that he’s watching the Department to ensure its goons don’t venture into the forest and find her. He’ll be lingering somewhere around the square.
I set off with a bouncy spring which immediately falters because of the pain. Okay, forget skipping jauntily; I’ll limp instead. It doesn’t mean I can’t still grin.
I plod along at a snail’s pace until I reach the first of the cobbled streets. For the first time, I’m irked that they’re not paved with modern materials; their uneven surface forces me to walk more slowly and I have to stop every few metres because the shooting pain is too much. Maybe it would be easier to disapparate and talk to Dante back in Manchester. I can shake him awake. At least that will lay Rawlins’ worries to rest.
With that thought in mind, I tilt back my head. Just before I feel the first familiar tug, however, something grabs my arm. I’m so surprised that I stagger and fall against a nearby wall. I yell out in agony. Goddamnit.
‘You will draw attention to yourself if you continue to make such noise.’
I rub my arm, which is still burning from the icy freeze of Lilith’s touch. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I hiss. ‘You should stick to the forest. Goodness only knows what the Department will do if it gets hold of you.’
‘I’m looking for you,’ she says. She taps the corner of her mouth. There’s an air of menace about her; even though we’re outside in the sunshine, I feel as stifled as I did in the Badlands. ‘I did not enjoy your trap.’ Her eyes narrow.
Irritation floods through me. I don’t have time for Lilith’s ramblings; I’ve already helped her out far more than I needed to. She’s got no right to come here and try to intimidate me. ‘What trap?’ I snap.
Lilith snarls and glides closer. ‘He was not alone.’
Eh? I blink at her as something crawls uneasily through the pit of my stomach. ‘Do you mean Adam? What do you mean he wasn’t alone?’
She runs her tongue across her teeth. Her face hovers above me and realise that she doesn’t look any healthier than she did a couple of hours ago. If she fed from Adam, she should be slightly better by now.
‘He was being watched, Zoe from the quiet lands. But I see now you did not know this.’ She snaps her fingers and moves back. ‘So be it.’
The tension emanating from her evaporates – but I think it has simply transferred to me. My pulse quickens as I search her face. ‘Watched by whom?’
‘I am very hungry,’ she says. Her gaze drops and her expression is mournful. ‘I need to eat.’
‘I’ve stopped the damn monsters. You can go and feed from whoever you want. But first tell me who was watching Adam.’
Her eyes go round. ‘Anyone? I can go to anyone?’
‘Lilith…’
She sighs. ‘The watcher had pretty fingers. And a mark here.’ She points above her arched eyebrow.
My stomach sinks further. I know exactly who she means: the Department thug who grabbed me in the street and half-strangled me had a scar there. I’ve fucking done it again, I’ve landed Adam in danger once more. ‘What was he dreaming of? What was Adam dreaming of?’
She pats her stomach. ‘I’m going to eat now.’
‘Wait!’ I protest. If they’re watching Adam it’s because the cat is finally out of the bag. They know I’m the dreamweaver and they’ll be coming after me. I straighten my shoulders. Let them: I’m coming into my own. They’ll rue the day they tried to screw with me. ‘Where is he now? Is the watcher still inside Adam’s dream?’
She nods. ‘With the other one. Your friend.’
Everything around me goes very, very quiet. ‘My friend?’
‘Mmm.’
I close my eyes in pain. I can’t believe Dante was right all along. I had been so sure I could trust Bron. I’m normally a far better judge of character.
There’s an ache in my heart because I’ve been betrayed. I lean back against the wall and look at Lilith, as if I’m expecting her to tell me she’s making it up. Somehow I don’t think Lilith is the joking type.
‘I’ve seen him in the forest many times. He has a mark as well, you know,’ Lilith continues. She points to her cheek this time.
My tongue claws to the roof of my mouth. ‘Wh–what?’
‘Is it a club?’ she inquires. ‘Do many of your kind do it? Brand yourselves?’
‘His hair.’ There’s a tremble to my voice but I don’t care. ‘What colour is his hair?’
Lilith frowns at me. ‘Black, of course.’
There’s a roaring in my ears. I can’t breathe. No, no, no, no, no.
‘Are you alright?’
I think I’m going to pass out. Nausea rises up my gullet. ‘What…’ I gasp. ‘Did… No. What…’ Shit. I point to my mouth.
‘I do not like vomit.’
Something about the disgust in her tone helps me and I suck in air, filling my lungs. ‘I’m not going to be sick. Did they talk?’ I lunge forward and snatch her wrist, ignoring the freezing touch of her skin. ‘What did they say?’
‘They wanted you, dreamweaver.’
Breath rushes out of me once more. It’s not Dante. He knows exactly where I am.
‘Pretty Fingers wanted to know where the dreamweaver was. They knew that it wasn’t Ashley and they’d been holding the wrong person.’ Lilith shrugs as if it makes no sense. ‘Black Hair said he had the dreamweaver but was keeping her until she came around to his way of thinking.’
No. ‘You’re lying.’
She considers this. ‘I do not lie. Make of it what you will.’ She blinks languidly and disappears.
I sag against the wall. Lilith is playing with my mind, just like the Sandman. I know from my discovery of the card with Adam’s details that the Department may have found him already. It was the Mayor’s record-keeping that led them to him, nothing else; they’ve been watching him in case he leads them to me.
Dante’s the only friend I’ve got and there’s nothing to point to his culpability. Bron’s not been around since I accused him of playing both sides. Ashley hates me and so does Esme.
I freeze. I only accused Bron at Dante’s behest. And there was something definitely wrong when I saw Ashley and Esme in the forest.
I straighten up. I have to talk to both of them and I have to do it now.
***
I circle round them. I’m aware it makes me look like some kind of predator but my pent-up emotion is going to burst out if I don’t do something to release it. The big stick Esme was holding before is lying by their feet and she drops nervous glances in its direction. I almost scoff. I can conjure up swords from nothing; a stick is going to bother me.
‘What’s wrong with the pair of you?’ I demand. ‘You’re antsy and worked up and I want to know why.’
They exchange looks. Esme runs her tongue across her teeth. ‘Do you know why Ashley was taken?’ she asks finally.
‘Because the Department thought she was the dreamweaver,’ I say impatiently. That’s hardly news.
‘That’s what they wanted us to think.’
I stare at her. ‘What does that mean?’
Ashley clears her throat. ‘They only thought I was the drea
mweaver to start off with. They injected me with something that made my heart race. Every six hours they came and injected me again.’
I swallow. ‘Drugs to stop you from sleeping.’
She nods. ‘Most of them didn’t talk to me, but one of them was chattier than the others. I knew that I could die there if I didn’t get someone on my side so I tried to be nice. I tried to get him to help me.’
I’m guessing that didn’t pan out but at least Ashley continued to fight. None of us were going to let these bastards take us down. ‘Go on.’
‘He said that they’d been told to kidnap me. That someone knew I was the dreamweaver, someone from our zone. A few people had doubts but Inferno was sure.’
‘Inferno?’ I press the base of my palms against my temples and switch direction. Dante’s Inferno. It doesn’t mean anything though; it could be a coincidence. It could be a ploy to make us think he’s not one of us.
Ashley’s eyes are clear. ‘That’s what they said. I was too befuddled to think anything of it. Later the guard apologised. He knew the truth and that I wasn’t the weaver but they needed me to capture the real dreamweaver.’ She looks at me meaningfully. ‘That’s when I realised I was nothing more than bait. I tried to tell them I was the dreamweaver, to give myself a chance, but they didn’t believe me.’
‘Lack of sleep will make you hallucinate…’
‘I know the fucking difference between a hallucination and reality, okay?’ Ashley snaps.
I stop pacing and look at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. She’s just been to hell and back; I should be more empathetic.
She nods. ‘I was getting sweats, screaming. Things were getting bad. The nice one left off a dosage. He said not to tell anyone but he was worried I was going to end up with permanent brain damage.’ As she says those words, she turns pale. ‘That’s why I managed to finally fall asleep.’