Visioness

by Lincoln Law

  Larraine said he was coming for me, she said, that these attacks were a warning. Surely there must be something I’m missing! What was his purpose in killing Larraine? None of it made sense.

  She left those thoughts to her subconscious as she finished her dinner, before retiring to her bedroom with a cup of strong Slugleaf tea. As previously, the Slugleaf tea took hold quickly and she found her eyes growing heavy. She curled up in bed, expecting a dreamless sleep. But regardless, she was quick to drift off.

  She awoke to a polite knock at the door, groggily getting herself out of bed. The clock said it was almost nine o’clock.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Adabelle,” Mrs. Abeth said, “but the police are here to talk. I’ll let them know you’re only just getting up. Please be in the library in twenty minutes. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, it’s fine. I didn’t realise the time.”

  “The Slugleaf tea will do that to you,” Mrs. Abeth said, leaving Adabelle to change. She closed the door, glancing over the Charlotte’s empty bed. She must have had tutoring that morning, or perhaps had other things to tend to. She quickly washed and dressed, hoping her powder blue summer dress was suitable for an interview with the police.

  The Odilla University Library was a brilliant piece of architecture. Three floors of books, with the centre of the building being a staircase built into a bookshelf, spiralling up through the floors. Off these levels were private study rooms, where small groups could study together or where people could find some peace and quiet away from the ruckus of the cafeteria.

  Today, however, one of the larger of the rooms was in use for the interview. The police themselves—there were three of them—stood in the soundproof room in their dark navy blue uniforms. They were talking amongst themselves about something, and comparing notes scrawled on a pad at the table. Adabelle knocked before one of the police came to the door to let her in.

  “Hello, Miss Blaise,” said the one who’d opened the door. He was a larger fellow, with a moustache that curled around at the ends, and dark, heavy eyebrows. His badge announced that he was Senior Sergeant Adrien Belland. The other one nearest her, sitting with his own notepad was Constable Rainier Mariette, who was a kind-looking man, probably around the same age as Adrien, but clean-shaven. And the third, who was dressed in uniform but had a brown waistcoat over the top of it, was Detective Napoleon Olin. He was a handsome one, but also much younger than the other two. He kept his hair short and a thin layer of stubble over much of his face.

  “Hello,” she said, as she stepped into the room, speaking mostly to Detective Olin; purely by accident, of course.

  “How are you today?” asked Belland, his moustache wiggling as he spoke.

  “Well enough,” she replied, taking a seat opposite the police.

  “Well good,” he said. “We must first apologise for bothering you. I’m sure you and your sister are still grieving.”

  “Well thank you for that consideration,” Adabelle said. “It’s appreciated.”

  “Now we mustn’t dawdle, we do have much to do today,” Belland went on, taking a seat. “Now, first of all, we need you to know your account of the events that transpired on the day your cousin died.”

  “Very well,” Adabelle said, casting her mind back to the morning. She recounted every event to the best of her ability, while also filling in on the events prior to Larraine’s death, as far as the previous attacks, the Nhyxes and everything else associated with that. She then went on to talk about the broken Dream Sphere in the Halls and of Lady Morphier, who said she would be conducting her own investigation as to Count Therron’s release.

  “I’m sure they keep good records there,” Adabelle said. “I don’t think anyone could have just released him without it being noted as to time and date of people’s comings and goings.”

  “I’m sorry for our ignorance,” the handsome detective said, taking a seat across from Adabelle, “but I was wondering if you could please explain this Dreaming thing. I may be the only one, but I have never had personal dealings with these Dreamers.”

  “It’s the Oen’Aerei,” Adabelle explained. “Their halls are just on the other side of the river, I’m sure you’ve seen it.”

  “Oh, I understand that,” Detective Olin said, “but I’m not sure about how your father, a man we all know to be dead, could have done any of this.”

  She went on to talk about the night her mother had made the deal with her father. She was allowed to keep Adabelle alive in the care of the University, and somehow Charlotte was allowed to live, but they never saw their mother again. She didn’t know what agreement they made, but she was sure Therron had ensured the deal worked in his favour.

  “Basically what happened—though I do not quite understand many of the specifics—is that my father’s mind was trapped in to a Dream Sphere. He was Sturding, which means he can physically appear in both the Dream Frequencies and here in the real world. As Lady Morphier explained it to me, it would be that he understood both worlds as his reality. It’s really a matter of existence and reality.”

  The detective, as well as the other policemen, all looked confused.

  “The easier way to explain it is if I get you all to imagine a stag.”

  “Okay,” the detective said, eyes turning to the ceiling as if he was imagining it above them.

  “Now where does it exist?”

  The detective grimaced. “In my head.”

  “And that’s where it will stay because that’s where its reality is,” she explained. “So when my father was sealed away, his body was destroyed, his reality became the dream frequencies, meaning that he can still move and act from there once he was freed from the sphere. Does that make sense?”

  “It is enough for us,” said the moustached one

  Adabelle glanced to the Senior Sergeant. He was impatient. He seemed unable to hide the look of suspicion on his face. He sounded disbelieving; reluctant to listen, even.

  My gosh, she thought. They think I killed her.

  This was why she had to be questioned. They weren’t searching for the killer. They’d already found her, according to their own thoughts.

  “I didn’t kill her if that’s what you think,” Adabelle said. “Why would I? She was my cousin. I have no motive!”

  “We’ll wait and see,” replied the Senior Sergeant.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Blaise,” said Detective Olin. “We won’t be doing any arresting until we’re certain.”

  “Very well then,” Adabelle replied, settling back into her seat, not noticing how stiff she had become. She slouched her shoulders once more and settled herself down.

  “Now as I’m sure you’re aware,” said the third officer, Mariette, who had up until now, not spoken, “any information you give us today is vital in our search for the murderer.”

  “Well it was my father, but go on,” she said.

  “Yes…well we need something more concrete than a dream monster did it, if you understand. Anything you withhold today could hurt your argument if we do find you’re the culprit. She died in your arms, and until we get results back from the hospital as far as the cause of death, we are stuck. So, what we wish to know is if there is anything else we need to know before we let you go today. Anything that might help.”

  “Go to the Halls of the Oen’Aerei,” Adabelle said. “Seek out Lady Morphier and question her. She should be able to corroborate everything I have said today, and reaffirm what’s happening. The only other thing I can think of mentioning is that you should know my father is a dangerous man, and he will do anything to achieve his ends. He’s…a powerful man, even if he only exists in our collective minds.”

  Again, the police looked confused, but they took notes and accepted her statement. They bade her a good day and let her go.

  Adabelle left the library with a sick feeling in her stomach. She had not expected that outcome at all. She had expected a few polite questions, and then for her to be off on her merry way. But she was a susp
ect. A suspect. It made her feel ill inside like she would empty the entire contents of her stomach, were there any to empty at all. She wondered for a time if they would even bother going to the Oen’Aerei at all.

  You’re meant to trust the police! she thought. Not question them! They know what they’re doing.

  Then why did she feel so uncertain all of a sudden, like her father wasn’t the only enemy she had now?

  Working in the café was much easier with the weight of her father’s presence off her shoulder. Or, at the very least, she was back to her bright, cheery self. Her co-workers seemed to notice the difference, taking opportunities throughout the day to console her for Larraine’s passing, but to also comment on her easier mood.

  “How are you going?” Georgette asked, between steaming milk and running a shot of coffee. “What with everything that’s happening.”

  “I’m okay, I guess,” Adabelle replied. “I’m just hoping that once Larraine’s funeral is out of the way I can start sorting everything out again.”

  “And have those dreams…come back yet?” She seemed to struggle with the question, like it was difficult for her to wrap her head around. She was still getting used to the idea of Adabelle being a Dreamer. Thankfully, though, she didn’t ostracise the girl. Instead, they grew closer. Perhaps she was maturing after all.

  Adabelle simply nodded.

  The young man named Rhene arrived to pick up his lunch, smiling at Adabelle as he left his order with Nicolas.

  “How are you?” Adabelle asked while he waited. Today, he wore the most wonderful brown V-neck jumper over a white shirt, and his dark hair was styled off to one side, curls forcing themselves to show through the gel.

  “I am well, and yourself?”

  “I’m good,” she said, unable to repress the stupid laugh that boiled to the surface. Georgette seemed unable to hide her own smirk, too. He didn’t seem to mind it, though, and took a seat at the far side of the room to enjoy his lunch. He sat with his back to the window, facing her, and she wondered whether it was intentional.

  Ben, a barista who was loud and sang most people’s orders back to them, arrived on time to his shift, which prompted Anna to call Adabelle out into the office. Ben quickly took over her station, his light brown hair seeming in a constant state of movement as he laughed and sang and in general brought up everyone’s mood.

  “Please take a seat, Adabelle,” Anna said, pointing to a chair opposite. She sounded serious, which was odd given how cheery she normally was.

  “What’s wrong?” Adabelle asked.

  “Oh, nothing’s wrong exactly,” she said, playing with the pen in her hand as she spoke. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. This is the first day back since Larraine and you’ve seemed awfully cavalier about it. I’ve been many things in my life, Adabelle, but never have I seen anyone get over a death as quickly as you have, and it has me concerned.”

  “I’m just trying not to think too hard on it,” she replied. “I’ve got the funeral in a few days, which will be tough. I’ve basically accepted it myself to read the eulogy, but while I’m at it, I’ve got…so many other things to worry about.” It was the first time that morning she had felt sad. Working as hard as she had was a welcome change to all the troubles she’d had to face over the last few weeks. For a time, she’d almost forgotten about her father and Larraine.

  Anna nodded, her expression softening, from one of seriousness to one of contentment. “Well that is okay, then. I was worried. You do know if you need any time alone, just ask. I’m more than happy to oblige.”

  “I know that, and thank you,” Adabelle said. “I will be sure to keep that in mind. But for the time, I’m quite happy to keep my mind on work. It’s much easier to not worry about any of that stuff for the time.”

  Anna, still smiling, didn’t look entirely convinced. She exhaled softly, looking down and away from Adabelle.

  “I had a call from the police today. A Detective Olin.”

  Already, Adabelle thought.

  “And what did he call about?”

  “He just wanted to know what sort of person you were,” she replied, rather matter-of-factly. “And I told him you were a polite, quiet young girl, who loved her sister very much. He asked whether I knew about your Dreaming ability, and I said in all honestly that I’d never really looked into it—it’s not my business to pry—but I’d assumed with a surname like Blaise that you were connected, at least partially, to Therron. And then I told them you were mostly private with your life. But I’m worried.”

  “Why would you say that?” Adabelle asked, already sure of her response.

  “Because when I asked why they wished to know they responded with the fact that they’re investigating the death of your cousin and they just wished to inquire on your character.” There was a significant pause that filled the room, and it was thick with fear. “Do they think you’re a suspect? You can talk here. You know anything said in here doesn’t go past those doors.” Anna reached out and rested a hand on Adabelle’s. Her fingers curled around Adabelle’s palm, gripping lightly.

  Adabelle nodded. “They said they need to explore all avenues before they make any accusations, but I am a suspect, yes.” She said it methodically, almost robotically, like she’d learned a speech by rote and had been trained to spout it on demand.

  “I am so sorry, my dear girl.” She raised her arm and rubbed Adabelle’s shoulder gently. “Again, should you need to talk, I’m here. I can be…” she paused, “…I can be your other mother.” She laughed quietly.

  Already got one of those, she thought, cracking a small smile. But I suppose Mrs. Abeth could use someone to shoulder the weight.

  “Thank you, Anna,” she said. “I really do appreciate that.”

  “Glad to help, honey. Now do you want a moment to get yourself together before you go back out, or are you right? It sounds like Ben has got you covered pretty well.”

  Adabelle laughed as she heard Ben sing an order in a rich baritone.

  “No, I’ll be fine right now, thank you.” She rose, heading back out onto the café floor. At that moment, she looked over at Georgette, who squinted knowingly and then nodded in the direction of Rhene. Before him was an empty cup and a crumb-covered plate. Adabelle rushed over to Georgette, quickly glancing away from Rhene.

  “Well go on, empty the table,” Georgette said with a wink.

  “I can’t,” Adabelle said, fighting the extreme desire to look at him again. “What if he wants to talk?”

  “Well then you’ll breathe, open your mouth and respond. It’s really quite easy. Some people call it conversation. You should try it.”

  Her sarcasm was entirely lost on Adabelle. “I guess I could.”

  “Yes you could, now go!”

  With a shove, Adabelle was pushed from behind the counter and out into the open. Suddenly, she felt exposed, like someone had undone her blouse and told her to walk naked through the middle of the café.

  You’re being silly, she thought, walking slowly to Rhene’s table.

  “How was your meal?” she asked, picking up the plate.

  “Just lovely,” he said, looking up from the novel he was reading. “It is always an excellent meal here.”

  “Yes it is,” she said, unable to muster up anything less stupid-sounding. She chided herself inwardly for her fumbling and picked up his cup as well.

  “Adabelle is it?” he asked.

  “Yes, that is me.”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee one time?”

  She nearly dropped the crockery.

  “But you’ve already had coffee.”

  Rhene laughed. “I mean elsewhere. Go and get coffee. With me. Elsewhere.”

  Idiot, thought Adabelle.

  A million questions drowned out any other coherent thought, and every one of them was to do with Rhene. Who was he? Where did he come from? What did he do for a living? She wanted to know what she was going to wear, and whether he drove a c
ar, or if she was meant to take herself to where they were going. Heavens! Where were they going? What if she hated it? A hundred questions piled on top of another hundred, and as she considered every one, she realised she was silently staring and had been doing so for more than a minute.

  “I’m sorry, miss, have you lost your voice?” Rhene asked.

  “Not at all,” she said. “I’d love to go out for you with coffee.” She paused, looking up and out the window as she reconsidered her words. Use your words, she thought. Then, her syntax in order, she spoke slowly. “I. Would. Love. To. Go. Out. For. Coffee. With. You.”

  “Excellent!” he said, sounding genuinely happy. And for some reason, that shocked Adabelle a little. “Are you free later on in the week?”

  “Yes I am,” Adabelle replied.

  “Well in that case, write down your address there and I’ll send a telegram with a time and date soon.” He proffered a notebook and a pen.

  She scribbled down the address of the University and the room number on the page. Her hand shook and her handwriting was horrid, but she eventually managed the scrawl. Rhene rose and left, smiling, quietly bidding Adabelle farewell as he went.

  She stepped behind the counter again, unable to contain the giggling excitement. Despite everything bad that had happened over the last few days, something good was happening! Things were finally starting to look up for Adabelle Blaise.

  Chapter Eight

  A Snapping and a Dream

  Rhene left the café with a wide grin on his face and a fluttering in his chest. It was like someone else had taken hold of his body while in the café, and had returned it now so he may bask in his possessor’s achievement. He hoped that Adabelle hadn’t noticed the way his hands had been shaking under the table, or the sheen of sweat that had broken out across his forehead during that entire conversation.

  He wrapped a coat around him as the sky darkened with grey clouds, the wind beginning to bluster. It had been a humid day so far, and the sudden shift suggested a storm. The rumbles he felt shortly after those thoughts confirmed his suspicions. He would have to hurry.