Night Terrors (20 page)

I shouldn’t be surprised when my ears start to prickle almost immediately.

I’m in a small enclosed space. There’s a soft green light blinking and a complicated looking control pad in front of me. I turn round and spy a pair of legs; I’m guessing they belong to Powers. I stand up and move close to him. His face is pressed against a dark green, metal tube.

‘Powers.’ I jab him with my thumb. This isn’t one of those times when I wish to remain incognito.

He moves away and looks at me, then snaps out a crisp salute. ‘They’re on their way, commander.’

Um … okay. I give him a brisk nod. ‘Show me.’

He gestures at the tube. There’s a viewfinder on it, so I copy him and stoop down to look into it. The view is exactly the same as that from the lobby of Ashley’s building. I turn to Powers. He’s dressed in army fatigues. Ah. He’s having some kind of boy-toy dream.

‘Are we in a tank?’

He salutes again. ‘Yes, ma’am. The enemy is approaching from the front.’

I look through the viewfinder again. On the periphery I can see several shapes dressed in ninja costumes. I smile; there’s nothing like mixing up your dream action. I try to concentrate. I need Powers to include Ashley in this dream if I’m going to discount him as a suspect. In theory, it shouldn’t be too hard, considering he spent most of the day dealing with her disappearance.

‘There’s a blonde chick out there,’ I grunt. ‘Civilian.’

Powers hisses. A moment later, Ashley’s indistinct form appears and I suppress the urge to cheer. Maybe I can learn this dreamweaving business after all.

‘We have to rescue her,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘She’s an innocent.’

I nod, satisfied. ‘She is.’

Powers reaches across me to a lockbox, flips it open and draws out a handgun. ‘With your permission?’

‘Go ahead, soldier.’

He doesn’t require any more urging. He jumps up, pushes open the tank’s lid and disappears with a whooping war cry. I stay inside, watching the action from the viewfinder.

Powers squeezes off several shots, felling the ninja warriors one after the other. He leaps onto the road, just as one of the warriors launches himself and grapples for the gun. They struggle for a few seconds until Powers karate chops the back of the ninja’s neck and he crumples to the ground. For a moment I forget to breathe as Powers races towards Ashley’s form, then I remind myself that none of this is real.

Another ninja emerges from a side building but Powers kicks him, knocking his head clean off his shoulders. Blood arcs from the ninja’s neck.

Two more grab hold of Ashley. Powers shoots them as she faints then scoops her up into his arms and starts to run back to the tank. She must weigh nothing more than a feather because he completes a range of close-fighting moves to get back to safety. When he drops back down inside with Ashley in his arms, she opens her eyes long enough to gasp, ‘My hero!’

It takes everything I have not to scoff. This is his dream and Ashley’s not really here. While he gazes tenderly down at her face, I touch his arm. ‘Powers, where is Ashley?’

‘She’s here. I saved her.’

I nod. ‘You did. You’re the hero. Now show me where she is.’

His brow furrows. He doesn’t understand so I try a different tack. ‘When did you last see her?’

There’s a flash. We’re no longer in the tank; I’m behind the reception desk and Powers is back in his security uniform. There’s not a single ninja warrior in sight. Ashley pushes open the glass door and gives him a brief smile before disappearing over to the lift.

‘Is that it, Powers?’ I ask. ‘Is that what you remember?’

‘I saved her,’ he repeats. Then he starts to cry.

Dante appears in front of us. ‘It’s not him.’

‘No,’ I agree. ‘I didn’t think it was.’

Powers is sobbing so much that there’s a pool of tears forming on the desk.

‘What took you so long?’ I ask.

Dante raises an eyebrow. ‘I was distracted by your body.’ He smiles. ‘Onto the next one?’

Carter. I nod grimly. ‘Yep.’

‘I’ll see you there in a few minutes.’

I tilt my head, forcing myself out of Powers’ dream. Come on, Carter, I think. I bet you’re not dreaming of being a hero.

It’s an interrogation room. There’s a two-sided mirror behind us and Carter, as seemingly afflicted by Hollywood as Powers, is wearing an orange jumpsuit and is shackled to a desk. Having found myself in this particular situation in real life, I know that real interrogation rooms are nothing like this gleaming space.

The door opens and, unexpectedly, Sherlock Holmes appears, puffing on a pipe. This isn’t the Holmes of Conan Doyle’s imagination: this version is the complete stereotype, from his curly sideburns to his deerstalker hat. Carter obviously hasn’t met any pipe smokers in real life because there’s no tobacco-enhanced reek in the small room, despite the cloud of blue smoke. No need to worry about the smoking ban when you’re dreaming, I guess.

I glance at Carter, whose head is drooping. Holmes always gets his guy so I reckon that, deep down, Carter expects to get caught. If he’s really involved in Ashley’s kidnapping, I’m going to make sure he’s not disappointed.

The famous detective doesn’t sit down but leans against the wall, regarding Carter’s prone figure with disinterest. ‘We meet again, Mr Carter,’ he says eventually in a posh accent.

Carter raises his head. ‘You may have caught me this time, Holmes, but you’ll never keep me here. You have no evidence.’

I roll my eyes at his clichés.

‘Ah, but we do have evidence.’ Holmes taps his pipe against the wall and a small amount of soot falls to the floor. ‘There is the corpse.’

I stiffen immediately, staring at Carter. His face blanches. A heartbeat later, Dante winks into existence and opens his mouth to speak. I motion for him to stay quiet; I need to hear what’s going on. My hands curl into fists. If Ashley’s already dead…

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Carter says.

‘Blonde hair, mid twenties, slim figure. You know exactly what I’m talking about.’

I don’t look at Dante but I can sense his tension.

Carter’s shackles jangle as he clutches the edge of the table. ‘She’s dead?’

‘You know she is.’

He shakes his head rapidly from side to side. ‘I didn’t know that would happen! They told me they wouldn’t hurt her. They…’

As I lean forward, there’s a crash and splintering of glass. I look up and see a dark shape fly through the mirror. It’s like some vision of hell, with black spikes covering its body and streaks of cloudy sulphur trailing behind it. Oh God. Not now.

Dante reacts first. He lunges for the spiky monster, trying to reach it before it grabs hold of Carter. As on the previous occasion, however, his efforts have no impact. His fists fly straight through the damn thing’s body as if it’s nothing more than insubstantial mist.

‘Zoe, we have to get out of here,’ he shouts.

‘No.’

I snap forward, pick up the steel chair that Sherlock Holmes ignored and use it to batter the creature’s back. It lets out a high-pitched whine and abandons Carter in favour of facing me. There’s very little room to manoeuvre and I curse the security guard for not dreaming of somewhere like a field. I tighten my grip on the chair then I slam it into the monster again.

Unfortunately not only do the black spikes add to its threatening appearance, they also give it considerable protection. Every time I slam the chair into it, it bounces off. I shuffle round, searching desperately for a weak spot. As I do so, the monster draws back and flings out one huge arm, its massive fingers latching onto the chair leg. The creature is too strong; within seconds the chair is pulled from my grasp.

The monster throws the chair with such force at Dante that he yells in pain. Shit. Dante might not be able to touch the monster but clearly it can touch him.

‘Get out of here!’ I shriek.

Dante grunts and staggers to avoid crashing to the floor. ‘No. I’m not leaving you.’

‘You’re only going to get hurt.’ I duck as the monster swipes at me. That was close.

‘I’m not leaving till you do!’

‘Well, I’m not leaving until I get some answers about Ashley.’ I kick, connecting with several spikes. They are as hard as rocks and sharp; I feel the tip of one sink through the sole of my shoe. I yank my foot away to avoid getting it trapped.

‘Help me, help me, help me,’ Carter moans. He’s in the far corner, his hands over his head to protect himself. My disgust for him increases.

I swivel round. Attacking the thing’s body is a waste of time – it’s too well armoured – but there’s has to be some way of hurting it. It tries to smash into me and I dance round to avoid it, I look for a vulnerable spot. As I pivot, I collide with Holmes who remains frozen against the wall. As part of Carter’s subconscious, he remains here in the dream – but he’s absolutely no use. All he’s doing is getting in the way. Why couldn’t Carter have dreamt of a modern detective with something handy like a bloody Uzi strapped to his back?

The spiky monster whines once more. I swear the damn thing is trying to communicate. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, as I dodge yet another lethal swipe, ‘I don’t speak evil.’

My feet crunch on the broken glass from the mirror and that gives me an idea. I circle round until I get to some larger shards. None of them will work on its own as a weapon – the mirror shattered too effectively for that – but that doesn’t mean I can’t use them. I pick up several of the pieces, each one no longer than an inch or two. Pain shoots across my skin but I ignore the small cuts. Unfortunately, the monster takes advantage of my pause and barrels into me, its spikes piercing my torso in several places.

Dante shouts in alarm, throwing himself uselessly at the creature again. ‘Zoe!’

I suck in a breath and pull back. ‘It’s okay,’ I gasp, ‘they’re not too deep.’

‘You’re bleeding everywhere. Disapparate!’

I grit my teeth. ‘No.’

This would be a damn sight easier if I had something to protect myself with. Armour would be nice. Those spikes will be the death of me if I don’t keep away from them; no wonder medieval knights draped themselves in steel.

‘Zoe,’ Dante says, his voice strange. ‘What the hell did you just do?’

I jerk my head in his direction. The moment I do, something snaps down in front of my face and I panic. What new hell is this? The thing is completely obscuring my vision and I scrabble at it as fear descends. Whatever it is, it’s cold and metal. My fingers push at it, first one way then another. Any minute now the monster is going to attack me again. Then I push up and the metal slides away with a clang.

Dante stares at me, shocked. Even the monster pauses.

I look down and gape. I prod my chest and lift up my legs and then my arms. Armour. I’m wearing a suit of armour. ‘I thought of this,’ I whisper. ‘I thought of armour and now…’

Dante’s shock turns to approval. I want to bask in its warmth. I’m learning, I’m really learning. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to gloat – not yet, anyway.

I edge round the room. The only part of the monster that isn’t covered in spikes is its face. Malevolent eyes glare out at me. There’s no nose – I imagine that being a nightmarish creature, it has no need of oxygen. There is, however, a gaping mouth, lined with teeth. All the better to eat you with. I heft the glass shards carefully. I just need the right moment.

‘Were you sent here?’ I ask. ‘Did the Department bring you or did you follow me?’

The monster’s mouth opens for another ear-piercing whine. As soon as it does, I throw the glass with every ounce of force I can muster. I’m not the greatest shot and a few of the shards miss it entirely but some land inside its mouth.

Rather than being hurt it chomps down, crunching the glass, then the bloody thing licks its lips.

‘Zoe, enough already,’ Dante says. ‘Even with the armour you can’t beat it. Not here. We need to get out and…’

The huge head lunges towards me. I jump out of the way just in time and careen straight into Sherlock Holmes. I wince in pain, both from the wounds round my belly and the continued ache in my spine. The metal encasing my body might be useful in protecting me from future attacks, but it’s not helping me to heal. Neither does it help that the detective’s stupid pipe has found a chink between the plates of steel and is jutting painfully into my shoulder blades. I whip round, curling my fingers round the wooden stem. As the monster lunges for me once more, I turn and ram the pipe into its mouth. If sharp glass won’t do the trick, then maybe choking on a pipe will. I shove it down as far as I can and leap out of the way.

A strange sound emits from the creature’s throat. Its black eyes bulge and red veins appear, threading up and down its smoky, spiky body. There’s a loud hacking cough while the tips of its spikes start to glow red. A moment later it explodes, splintering into the atmosphere and vanishing.

I collapse to my knees. My armour vanishes.

‘Zoe!’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re not fucking fine.’ Dante leans down and helps me to my feet.

I squint at him. ‘You can’t touch or talk to Carter. You can’t affect the Badlands monsters. How come you can touch me?’

He gazes at me with worry and concern. ‘I guess we’re one and the same.’

I sigh. ‘I guess.’

His eyes travel down. My shirt is damp with blood. ‘Why won’t you ever look after yourself?’

I smile faintly. ‘I’m the boss. The buck stops with me.’ I look round for remnants of the armour but there’s no evidence that it ever existed.

‘You did it,’ Dante says quietly. ‘You really did weave. You conjured that armour up out of nothing.’

I shake my head. ‘All I did was think of it. And then…’ I shake my head again. Unbelievable.

He grins at me. ‘This changes everything. Think of the power we’ll have.’

My back is throbbing and I grimace. ‘Now if only I can learn to heal myself, I’ll be invincible.’

Dante’s smile disappears. ‘You should…’

I hold up my palm. ‘Disapparate. I know, I know.’ I point to Carter, who remains huddled in the corner. ‘But I’ve not done what I came to do.’

I hobble over and crouch down. Carter looks up at me. ‘Hey. The monster has gone for now but if you don’t tell me what I need to know, then it’ll come back.’ Any guilt I might have felt at making such an empty threat vanished when the word corpse was mentioned.