by Lincoln Law
The jury returned only a moment later. Mr. Corbine followed shortly after, his smile towards Adabelle, looking simply predatory.
“How does the jury find Ms. Blaise?” asked the judge.
What is this? thought Adabelle, confused. What did he have to say.
“We find Ms. Blaise innocent,” said the lead member of the jury.
Adabelle’s heart seemed to skip a beat, her entire insides twisting in on themselves.
“What?” she exclaimed, a little more loudly than intended.
“Very good,” said the judge, banging his gavel against the stand. “Ms. Blaise, as per arrangement with Mr. Giles Corbine here, you will be taken into his care with your sister, Charlotte, so as to not be a burden on the state. You may continue your life from there.”
Detective Olin looked entirely shocked and perhaps even a little cheated.
It took a moment for Adabelle’s mind to process the events. It took only a moment for it all to fall into place.
He never wanted me imprisoned, she thought. He never wanted me before the firing squad. He wanted me in his hands, for him to use as he wishes. She turned slowly to the bald man with the glowingly bright green eyes. And by having this, he’s made it lawfully binding for me to be in his agent’s hands.
She turned to the back of the courtroom. Her eyes widened with shock. Rhene was gone, and Charlotte, too.
“I hope she has escaped,” she whispered.
Detective Olin was quick to see this, too, though, and called his officers into action. “Get the girl,” he said.
A herd of police officers ran from the courtroom.
“Please get away,” she whispered to herself hopefully. “Just get away from here.”
But Charlotte didn’t. Adabelle’s hope died as her sister was brought into the courtroom, kicking and screaming.
“Please, girls, calm down,” said the judge, his voice deep and commanding. But Charlotte didn’t stop. Somehow, seeing this reminded Adabelle that they hadn’t lost. Not yet. Not quite.
Good girl, thought Adabelle. We may be in his hands now, but it doesn’t have to be easy for him. She couldn’t help a smile. Even the slightest sign of defiance might be a help to our cause. Every moment we make hard for him, is another moment he doesn’t win.
And they still had Rhene. He could still help them.
She was alive, and she could fight.
There was still hope.
PART FOUR
In the Hands of the Ghost
Chapter Twenty-Four
A Wall of Black Glass
Rhene didn’t believe in failure. There was no choice but success. One either flourished or died.
And yet he had failed, and he was still alive.
The final moments passed before him in a sudden, flashing sequence of images. The judge was only just returning to announce his judgement. At that moment, he had whispered to Charlotte.
“We have to go,” Rhene said.
“But, Adabelle….”
“She’ll be fine,” he replied. “We have to go. We have to get you to safety. Okay? Be brave.”
She nodded, and then they approached the door with all the calm they could manage under the circumstances.
“We find Ms. Blaise innocent,” said the jury.
Rhene stopped for a moment, but suddenly understood.
“Run,” he said. “Just run. I’ll find you.” And together they ran.
But the police caught her and dragged her away. Rhene could only watch as they took her, kicking and screaming.
“And now I’m here,” he whispered.
The Dream around him was nothing but darkness and shifting cloud. He didn’t have the mental strength to muster a setting of any kind. He could only sit in the shadows, and wish for an escape from the pain of his loss.
She’s alive, he reminded himself. But it wasn’t enough. She was in her father’s agent’s hands now, and there she would stay. And he couldn’t do anything.
He could sense her mind in the distance. It was so very far away now; somewhere across the other side of the city. But it was blocked off, too, shielded by the dream shackle around he wrist.
Come on, man, he thought. Be strong for her! All isn’t lost yet. Not so long as there is breath in my lungs and a beat in my heart. All is not lost.
He spoke those words in his mind again and again, like a prayer, hoping that someone would hear.
He rose from the floor of the dream, and began his way—body and mind—towards Adabelle. He didn’t know what drew him towards her, or what made it so that he could feel her mind, but he instinctively sensed out her as a compass senses north. He walked from mind to mind, passing through dreams, a nameless, faceless wanderer. He was lost, though he knew where he was going.
Though he passed through hundreds of dreams, he did not take in any of what he saw. Were he to be asked at the end of it all what people dreamt of, he would pull up nothing, the entire journey a black blur. He cared not about the journey; what only mattered was the destination.
He found Adabelle, behind a wall of black glass, her mind sealed away from his touch. He pressed himself against that barrier, able to feel that part of her mind that let her dream, but unable to immerse himself. Like a river frozen in winter, the dreams and thoughts and imaginings continued beneath the glass, but the surface was still and unbreakable.
He saw Charlotte’s mind, too, though the river beneath the ice was silent for her. He could not fathom why—he assumed it had something to do with the mindlock in place—but it was still.
“Adabelle,” he said. He didn’t know whether she heard him, but he had to talk. “I’m sorry for failing you. I hope you can forgive me.”
There was no reply or movement from Adabelle. At present, she lay on a bed, curled up and deeply asleep. Were that wall not there, she could enter the dream, and they could escape. They could retrieve Charlotte together, and together they could escape this madness.
Yet that wall of black glass remained, as firm as diamond, as translucent as water.
Raising a fist, Rhene threw all of his weight against the wall. It didn’t move.
He recoiled, swearing under his breath. He leaned against the black glass wall and sighed.
“Even just to hear your voice would be enough for now,” he said, feeling tears come to the surface. He hadn’t cried in years—he couldn’t remember the last time he had. Not out of sadness, at least. And not from the kind of sadness he felt now. “Please hear me.” He drew back and charged at the wall again. Nothing.
Again and again, he threw his weight against the glass, and it didn’t budge. He wasn’t strong enough. All the training in the world could not prepare him for this. It simply stood there, a barrier between their minds, a lock to insure her captivity.
“I don’t care if you can’t hear me right now,” he said, growling through his sobs. “I don’t care what Therron has done! I need to say this! I promise, Adabelle! I promise that no matter what happens, I will find a way to free you. Even if it means my life, I will get you out of this madness, no matter what. That is a promise.”
One more jab against the black glass, and he stopped. His first ached, but he paid it no mind.
I promise, he thought, as he sat before the barrier and kept watch on her. Eventually, exhausted from the day’s events, he rose from his position on the ground and walked away from the barrier.
“I will return,” he said. And then he was gone from that part of the Frequencies.
Rhene was surprised how long it had taken Matthon to call him to a meeting after initially being caught with Adabelle in his room. Rhene was of two minds of this meeting. On one hand, it was a chance to tell Matthon of his fury at his betrayal. He cared about Adabelle, and it was because of Matthon he was now separated from her. On the other hand, though, he was terrified as to how the man would react now knowing he was protecting a Dreamer. Daughter of the most deadly of the Dreamers at that!
When he met with Matthon, though, ear
ly in the morning in the man’s office, he was surprised to find the man calm and cordial. He did not speak with any anger, nor with any blame. He spoke calmly, and perhaps held a slight tint of sadness to his voice.
“I know this may come as a shock, Rhene,” Matthon said, “but I am truly apologetic for what you have gone through.”
Surprise. Rhene looked up, eyes widening slightly—only slightly, though. He hadn’t the energy to waste enthusiasm on this man.
“I am. I did not realise there was anything between the two of you, otherwise I would not have contacted the police.” His tone quickly changed to anger. “I also did not realise they intended to use Dreamers to capture the girl. I understand their reasoning behind it, but I think given that they were dealing with the Dreamless, more appropriate methods might have been concocted.”
Rhene nodded. He wasn’t in the mood to speak right now.
“That all aside, I am honest. I do not mean for a second to hurt you. I never set out to hurt you, nor did I set out to make you suffer, as you are so obviously suffering now.”
Rhene couldn’t contain his words any longer.
“You do realise what you have done?” Rhene asked. His voice was like a furnace, anger radiating in heated waves. “You have put the one person in the world I really care about in the hands of someone who wants her for his own nefarious deeds. By not consulting me first, by not using the common sense most others would use, you have doomed her to a life in the hands of someone who will abuse her.” He shook his head. “Don’t apologise. You cannot possibly understand the pain you have put Adabelle through.”
“I will apologise, because I must,” Matthon said. “You don’t understand how important you are to our war on the Oen’Aerei!” He jabbed his finger on the wood of the desk, as if hammering in his words.
“I don’t care about the bloody Oen’Aerei. I don’t care about the battle, or any of that! Not anymore!”
“No, no, no,” Matthon said, reaching a hand across the table. He reached for nothing but air, yet he still grabbed Rhene’s attention. “Don’t you see. I can fix this! I can make this better! If we can charge on the Oen’Aerei, and attack at the heart of Count Therron’s power, then we may weaken him just enough for us to get Adabelle back!”
Rhene brightened at this, his entire presence changing. His posture snapped straight, his eyes widened, and the fury with which he pulsed lessened.
“If you continue to help me, Rhene, in this battle,” Matthon said. “If you can help me bring down the Oen’Aerei, and Lady Morphier, then together we might be able to stop Therron and free this Adabelle girl and her sister.”
Adabelle’s words ran through Rhene’s mind.
I don’t have to pick a side, he thought. I don’t have to fight for a side with whose beliefs I do not agree. I am my own man. He glanced quickly at Matthon. But an army to save Adabelle…that is something I can agree with. Something I can fight for.
“What do you say, Rhene?” asked Matthon, extending an open hand. “Are you willing to fight if it means saving Adabelle.”
“For Adabelle,” Rhene said, “I would cross to the other side of the world. I will fight, if it means saving Adabelle.”
The pair shook hands, Matthon’s grasp tight and vice-like.
“I look forward to fighting alongside you in the war, when it comes.”
Rhene nodded. “And I look forward to saving Adabelle.”
Matthon smiled, though Rhene couldn’t quite understand why.
Each night, before falling asleep, Rhene made it his mission to find Adabelle and check that she was well. Despite there being that wall of black glass, firm and dark, yet still somehow translucent, he felt like simply being near her was enough. He longed to reach out and touch her, to express that he was there to comfort her. But he could not break through the Dream, and nor through the mind of the man who had taken them captive. It appeared he too had chosen to wear the shackles that sealed off dreams, for fear of having a Sturding take his prisoners to their freedom.
As Rhene rose to leave for the night, Therron stopped him. The man stood silently, watching Rhene with an inscrutable gaze. It set Rhene on edge at the silence with which the man moved, and his ever-present serenity.
“What are you doing here?” asked Rhene.
Therron observed a moment of silence before replying. He breathed in deeply, and Rhene could only wonder how the man could stomach the stench of that cologne.
“I should, perhaps, be asking you the very same thing. What are you doing near my daughters?”
“You know exactly what I’m doing near your daughters,” Rhene retorted.
“No, I don’t know what you’re doing near them. Enlighten me, please.” His smile quickly faded.
Rhene stood tall, hoping his fear had not snuck through.
“I’m here to make sure they are safe,” Rhene said. “I’m here to make sure that while they’re in your care, you will not harm them.”
“I would never dream of harming my daughters,” Therron said, smiling. “Never in a million years. They are the one thing I’m truly proud of; it would take quite the act to make me think otherwise.”
“You have them held captive against their will,” Rhene argued. “You’ve placed a dream shackle around your own daughter’s wrist to insure she doesn’t escape. I hardly think that’s not harming them.”
“I am their father, I will do as I wish.” He folded his hands behind his back. He seemed affected. “I know for a fact you have never had children yourself.”
“Maybe not today,” Rhene said, “but one day, maybe. And I will be more of a father than you ever were to these girls.”
This seemed to strike a chord within Therron, for his usually calm expression wavered, his anger bubbling to the surface. It took a while, but the man eventually settled it, his expression returning to one of unreadable calm. Rhene attempted to take advantage of this moment, and force himself out of the Dream. If he had to, he could throw himself out of someone else’s mind and escape through a window. But something blocked him. He knew intuitively it was Therron.
“You’re not going to escape, boy,” Therron said. His hands returned from his back, revealing a knife. “Not tonight.”
Rhene wanted to run away, to yell and kick all the while, but he had to be brave. He had to be strong. Adabelle would be strong now, he thought. She is who I have to be.
“And this is why you fail at being a father,” Rhene said, pointing at the knife. “This is why you will never be her father. Not in her mind, and not in Charlotte’s. Never.”
“I am their father by blood whether they like it or not!” Therron brandished the knife as he spoke, and held a dreadful calm all the while. “They are my daughters, now and forever!”
“Never have you once been their father,” Rhene said. “You’ve hunted them, and chased them, and ruined your youngest daughter’s head with that stupid mindlock! You’ve killed Larraine and Mrs. Abeth, both of whom were incredibly important to the both of them. And you’ve never said otherwise, but I can only assume you had some small role in the madness that has come over Aunt Marie. You’ve just been able to disguise it as the Buffer Sickness!”
It took a moment for Rhene to realise what he was saying, and a moment longer to consider how he knew all of this. Adabelle had spoken very little about her family, let alone Aunt Marie. He didn’t even know who Aunt Marie was! He doubted she’d said anything about her!
I’ve touched Adabelle’s mind, he thought, turning for a moment to the dark glass wall. There are no secrets between us. Not anymore.
“She fears for her life when she’s near you,” Rhene continued, pointing to the two girls, currently asleep, minds sealed for fear of escape. “She has never known the love of a father, or the embrace of a father, or even had someone who can take that place in her life!”
Therron’s expression darkened now, his eyes becoming slits.
“You’ve deprived her of a real father, just as you have deprived me
of mine.” He scoffed, though he didn’t know why. “Face it: she hates you.”
Therron threw himself at Rhene, knife bared to strike at his heart. Rhene leapt away as swiftly as he could manage, watching with utter horror as Therron quickly got up off the ground and threw himself at him again.
“You cannot face these words because you know them to be true!” Rhene taunted, as he ran out of the way again. He was stalling while he searched for some way out of the Dream.
Just keep running, he thought. Just keep taunting him. He’ll make a mistake eventually!
“I cannot bare to hear those words because I know they’re all lies!” Therron roared. “And to say otherwise is a lie! You’re a liar, boy.”
Rhene turned suddenly to face Therron. Be brave, he thought. Therron raised his arm to stab with the knife, but Rhene threw his arm up to stop him. He didn’t blink, he didn’t waver, he simply stared at the arm coming down upon him, watching as it connected with his open arm. Rhene gripped Therron’s wrist as tightly as he could, and then even more tightly than that. Therron yelped, dropping the knife. Having no other hand free, as one presently held Therron’s arm at bay, and the other was moving to block a jab being thrown at his face, Rhene kicked away the knife as distantly as he could. This dream was not his own, so the knife seemed to sail longer than it normally would, ungrounded by the mind in which they fought.
He blocked the jab away from him, and then threw his own. The attack connected with Therron’s face, and the man stumbled back. He couldn’t move, though, as Rhene had him still held firmly in his grasp. As he tumbled back he simply lost his footing and was left dangling in Rhene’s grasp. He quickly corrected his footing, but not before Rhene drew back his fist once more and threw it at the man.
Therron roared as fist connected with face, his nose cracking beneath Rhene’s hand. Despite being limited to the Dream Frequencies, Therron’s body seemed very real, the bones breaking, the blood that spurted hot to the touch.