Night Terrors (27 page)

He steps towards me. Shit. Whatever I do, I’m going to have to do it quickly. I pull out my hand from the bag, holding as much sand as I can, and run at him. I slam into his left thigh and fling my arm upwards. I’m not aiming for his face; instead I rub the sand as hard as I can into the first scratch I made in his belly.

He howls and staggers backwards. I finally spy the sword and run for it, grabbing its hilt. It’s still heavy but I’m determined not to let go of it. I scowl at it, willing it to change, and I’m so surprised when it does that it flies up in the air, far higher than I intended. I just manage to keep hold of it.

I swing to the side and, as the tip of the blade arcs back down, I swipe it in the opposite direction. It cuts into the edge of the Sandman’s wing once more and his body jerks backwards. Then he’s falling as his knees buckle underneath him. I use the flat of the blade to aid his descent and, as his head crashes finally down, I twist it so the tip is pointed directly at his jugular.

‘You got lucky,’ he croaks.

Yeah, I’ll give him that. I drop my gaze to his hand and realise he’s still holding the hank of my hair. I gingerly touch my scalp and wince. It really bloody hurts.

‘Why?’ I demand. ‘Why attack the Bubble? Why send out the monsters and cause so much suffering?’

The creatures on all sides press in but I don’t take my eyes off the Sandman. I edge forward so that the point of the blade is embedded further into his throat. They hiss and snarl but they don’t advance any further.

‘I already told you why,’ he sneers.

‘No, you didn’t.’

His body shimmers and the broken wings behind his back melt away. I’m no longer confronted by the fierce monster; now it’s the small blue-haired boy. A trickle of blood appears on his neck and he gasps.

‘Do you really think that I’m stupid?’ I ask. ‘I’m not going to let you go just because you look like a kid. I know what really lurks in your heart.’

‘Do you?’

I steel myself against his childish voice. ‘Of course I do! Torturing kids. Forcing people to go crazy. Assaults. Monsters. There’s no end to what you’re capable of.’

‘Ask me again.’

‘Huh?’

He blinks slowly. ‘Ask me your question again.’

I draw in a breath. ‘Why attack the Bubble?’

He licks his lips. Blood bubbles up at his mouth. ‘You.’

‘Bullshit.’

The Sandman’s head drops back as if it’s too much effort to hold it up. I adjust my grip on the sword’s hilt in case he tries anything. ‘It was only a matter of time,’ he whispers, ‘before you came calling. Every dreamweaver does.’

I frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Power. You become giddy with your own power. You start to crave more. You look around. Soon the Dreamlands aren’t enough. The doors to a million minds aren’t enough. You look to us.’

I gaze at him with scepticism. ‘So you’re trying to say that all this is just a pre-emptive strike? Against me?’

‘Evil doesn’t come from our world, it comes from yours. We exist because of you.’

‘Fuck you.’

He chokes out a laugh. ‘It’s true.’ He waves an arm around. ‘Look around you. These aren’t the stuff of nightmares.’

‘Imps? Dragons? Rapists?’ My voice is rising. ‘If these aren’t nightmares then what are they?’

‘Terrors.’

My lip curls. ‘What’s the difference?’

‘Nightmares are necessary. That’s why the mares run freely in the Dreamlands. Your people need nightmares to work through their day-to-day problems. Nightmares will point you towards problems you might not have realised you have. They’re as essential as dreams in solving the mess that goes on in your heads. Terrors, however, are because of the mess you
create
.’ He sniffs. ‘It’s far more complicated than you could ever hope to come to terms with.’

‘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 longer 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.