Night Lights

by Helen Harper

  ‘So,’ Ingold says, for what must be the umpteenth time, ‘if we lose track of you and the transmitter in your shoe stops working and you need to contact us, what’s the number?’ I recite it from memory. He nods approvingly. ‘And the code?’

  I roll my eyes. ‘We’ve been through this. Several times.’

  ‘Humour me.’ He isn’t smiling.

  I sigh. ‘The lion sleeps tonight.’

  ‘Thank you. And if that fails…’

  ‘It won’t.’

  ‘If it does…’

  ‘I present myself to the nearest police station and tell them to contact you.’

  Ingold nods. ‘I’ll be ready and waiting.’

  I should be pleased that there are contingency plans on top of contingency plans. The trouble is that Ingold can only control what happens in the real world – and right now that’s not my concern. I’m alone in the Dreamlands and only have myself to rely on. And I can be hurt there just as easily as here.

  He passes me a folded sheet of paper. ‘I’m not sure this is the best plan.’

  I shrug as I put it into my pocket. ‘Right now it’s the only plan we’ve got.’

  There’s a sharp knock on the door and Shiny-suit Man’s face peers round. ‘He’s arrived.’

  Ingold gets up and throws me a meaningful glance. ‘You know what to do?’

  I nod. ‘Yes. Don’t worry.’ I ignore the thread of fear rising through the pit of my stomach and wrap my arms round myself.

  ‘You’re shivering.’

  ‘I’m cold.’

  Ingold pauses for a moment. I think he’s going to argue with me but he merely nods. He reaches out as if to touch my arm then withdraws, clearly thinking better of it. He doesn’t want me in his dreams again. Not that I blame him. ‘Look after yourself, Zoe,’ he says instead. ‘We’ll be watching.’

  I follow him into the corridor, take a few steps forward and then pause in my tracks. ‘Ingold?’ I ask softly.

  He turns round. ‘Yes?’

  I choose my words carefully, hoping I’m not about to mess this up. ‘Whoever she is,’ I say, keeping my voice low enough so that anyone else in the vicinity doesn’t overhear, ‘and whatever happened to her, you know deep down that she’s not coming back. You know that you need to move on.’ I attempt a smile. ‘And you will, sooner or later.’

  He stares at me. He knows what I’m referring to. ‘My wife,’ he says finally. ‘She left me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  He watches me for a moment then he straightens up. ‘Thank you,’ he says. He holds my gaze. ‘I think for the first time in a long time I can see that there might be a future for me without her.’

  There’s something about the expression in his eyes that makes me swallow and step back. I lick my lips then incline my head in acknowledgment. A grin threatens the corner of his mouth and he turns forward once more. I fall in behind. Now that I have time to appreciate it, he does indeed cut a very fine figure. I realise I’m staring at his arse and hastily look at the floor instead.

  We head back towards another interrogation room where he gently cuffs me. ‘Is that too tight?’ he asks. I shake my head. ‘What you said in the corridor?’ he continues. ‘You were trying to help me. You should see that it proves Travellers can do good. We can do good.’

  Somehow I doubt that Interpol – or anyone else for that matter – would care about making someone like Ingold feel better about their personal problems. I give him a tentative smile and take a deep breath. ‘Let’s get this over and done with.’

  Ingold nods, suddenly all business-like, and points at the camera before taking a seat opposite me. ‘So, Ms Lydon,’ he says carefully, ‘why don’t you tell me more about the explosion that happened here?’

  ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,’ I begin. ‘I had nothing to do with that.’

  The door bursts open and Dante strides through. ‘I am Ms Lydon’s lawyer,’ he barks, ‘and you have no right to question her without legal representation being present.’

  I flash Dante what I hope is a relieved smile. His attention remains fixed on Ingold, who casually stands up, exuding as much authority as Dante does. ‘Ms Lydon waived her rights to a lawyer,’ he says. ‘Who are you?’

  Dante passes over a card. Ingold takes it and examines it for a second before shrugging and glancing at me. ‘Is this man your lawyer?’ I’m impressed at the sneer he manages to inject into his voice. I nod mutely.

  Dante glares at Ingold. ‘You’ve obviously terrified her.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, although I bristle at the patronising nature of his words.

  Ingold nods towards the spare chair but Dante remains standing. ‘Has my client been charged?’ he demands.

  ‘Not yet—’

  ‘Then,’ he interrupts, ‘it’s high time she was released. You have no evidence and no reason to hold her.’

  ‘She is here for questioning regarding allegations of terrorism.’ Ingold’s gaze hardens. ‘I’m sure you can appreciate that we take such allegations very seriously.’

  ‘Does she look like a terrorist to you?’

  ‘What exactly does a terrorist look like?’ Ingold asks. ‘Because in my experience they rarely go around wearing labels to advertise themselves.’

  Dante’s lip curls. ‘You know very well what I mean. Where exactly do these allegations come from?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

  I can almost see the steam coming out of Dante’s ears. Ingold has already told me that there were three separate phone calls traced to three separate European countries naming me as someone who was planning something ‘large’. Obviously it was the Department’s doing. The international nature of the tip-offs lent weight to the allegations but at no point was there any proof. In fact, if the press hadn’t been tipped off at the same time, it was unlikely anyone else would have ever heard my name. Another reason to despise the bastards.

  ‘If you can’t show any concrete proof you need to let Ms Lydon go. The embassy has already been contacted and—’

  ‘I can assure you that we communicated fully with all the relevant authorities,’ Ingold states stiffly. ‘We have a few more questions pertaining to the explosion which took place on Wednesday.’

  ‘Given that my client was videoed walking towards the building when the explosion occurred, any suggestion of her involvement can hardly be credible.’ There’s an angry fire in Dante’s eyes. I sigh inwardly; if I didn’t know better, I’d be falling into his arms right about now.

  Ingold glares at him. ‘Wait here.’ He stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  I turn to Dante. ‘You came,’ I breathe. Come on, Zoe. You can do this. ‘You really came.’

  ‘I told you I would.’ He glances at my cuffed wrists. ‘I can’t believe they tied you up.’

  ‘They said it was procedure.’

  He snorts. ‘This whole thing is a sham and they know it.’

  ‘The Department…’

  He flashes me a warning glare, gesturing surreptitiously upwards to the camera in the corner of the room. I fall silent. A moment later, Ingold returns and passes an official-looking document to Dante. He scans through it and nods, apparently satisfied, before placing it in front of me so I can also read it.

  ‘We will release Ms Lydon,’ Ingold intones, ‘on the proviso that she returns directly to the United Kingdom and presents herself at her local police station immediately upon arrival. There may well be more questions to be answered.’

  Dante considers this then nods. ‘That is acceptable.’

  My mouth falls open. ‘That’s it? You’ve held me overnight on suspicion of terrorism and now you’re going to let me go?’

  Ingold smirks. ‘Oh, don’t worry. There’s still the matter of your false passport to consider. You’re not off the hook.’

  A muscle throbs in Dante’s jaw. ‘And her mother? Her friends?’

  ‘My cat?’ I ask.

  ‘Th
ey are also free to leave. Even the cat.’

  Ingold’s attempt at humour falls on deaf ears. ‘You shot Adam McDonald,’ Dante says. ‘You’re most certainly not off the hook either.’

  Ingold raises his eyebrows. ‘We’ll see.’ He leans over and unlocks the cuffs. I rub my wrists.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ I tell Dante. He nods. Without further ado, the pair of us stroll out, not looking back even once.

  ‘There aren’t any journalists around,’ Dante tells me in a low voice as we go out into the chill morning air. ‘I made sure of it.’

  ‘Good. What about at the hospital?’

  ‘We can’t go there.’

  I put up a protest. ‘But my mother and Rawlins and Adam are there.’

  ‘Your ex-boyfriend is recovering nicely. I checked. I’m sure they can make their own way back.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘You heard the detective, Zoe. You need to get back home. Besides, it’ll be easier to fly under the radar from both the media and the Department if we travel alone.’

  I consider trying a bit harder but, as this is what I wanted all along, I nod in agreement. Dante takes my arm whether as support or to ensure I don’t run off in the opposite direction I’m not entirely sure. ‘Now what?’ I whisper. ‘Are we going to be able to access those records? Do you really think we can we stop the Department?’

  Dante stops walking and turns to me. ‘Of course we can.’ His thumb brushes lightly against my cheek. ‘If we work together, we can achieve anything.’

  ‘You won’t hurt anyone, will you?’ There’s a quaver in my voice that’s not faked.

  ‘Not if you don’t want me to.’

  I curve my lips into a smile. ‘Thank you, Dante. Thank you for coming to get me. Thank you for not giving up on me when I’d given up on you.’

  ‘I love you, Zoe. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stick to you like glue from now on.’

  My stomach lurches. My smile broadens. ‘Fantastic. I’m so lucky to have you.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.

  Aristotle Onassis

  Our journey back to the cold shores of Britain is uneventful. When I make a point of calling the hospital and speaking to my mother and Rawlins, I’m painfully aware that every word is being recorded. I use Ingold’s pre-determined code words to assure everyone that things are going to plan.

  Dante, by my side, doesn’t seem to react. I know that half the reason my behaviour around him is so credible is because my heart is still conflicted. I think he senses that I still have doubts because he twines my fingers with his and won’t let go, even when we’re getting on and off the plane.

  We’re barely out of the gate and walking towards immigration when two burly looking uniforms step in behind us. I stiffen nervously but Dante squeezes my hand in reassurance. ‘Don’t worry,’ he tells me. ‘Their presence is a good thing.’

  ‘How do you reckon that?’

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘first of all, they know who you are and they’re not throwing you into a cell.’

  ‘That could mean they want to see who I make contact with and what my plans are,’ I tell him.

  ‘It could be. But they’re not hiding their presence either. They’ll follow you around until they can confirm Interpol’s analysis that you’re not a threat.’ He pauses. ‘No one in the Department will dare make a move against you while you have the law on your tail.’

  He has a point. Although what Dante doesn’t know – and what I do – is that Interpol are already watching my every move. I’m as valuable to the Dream Team as I am to the Department. Still, at least I can rest easy that for the time being I’m unlikely to be snatched off the street or gunned down in cold blood. Unless Dante manages something when we’re alone, that is.

  I force a smile and try to relax. ‘You’re right. It’s just…’

  ‘That this is everything you were terrified of.’

  I nod. My agoraphobia feels like it was in a different life that involved a different Zoe but some of those old fears still linger. I shudder delicately. If everything goes to plan, I won’t have to worry again. I send up a silent prayer: please let it all go to plan.

  We’re followed out of the airport. When we reach our hire car I think the two men have decided to leave us alone but, as we reach the roundabout on the way out of the complex, I spot them behind us. They’re not taking any chances. I still find it difficult to believe I’m a credible threat but the British security forces obviously think otherwise.

  ‘So,’ Dante says, once we’re on the motorway, ‘what exactly did Interpol question you about?’

  ‘Bombs mostly,’ I grunt. I fiddle with the radio, turning it up loud to distract him from making conversation. The less I say about what happened with Ingold, the less I’ll have to lie. I need to keep Dante on side for as long as possible.

  ‘Did they ask you about your dreams?’ he asks, raising his voice to be heard.

  I start. ‘No. Why would they?’

  He grips the steering wheel. ‘There have been rumours for a long time that some law enforcement officials are aware of the Dreamlands.’

  I scratch my nose. ‘Well, obviously they’re not just rumours.’

  He straightens up. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Rawlins. She’s in the police and she knows all about them.’

  I sense him relax again. ‘Oh. Her.’

  My insides tighten. ‘She’s a good person.’

  ‘She encouraged you to run away.’

  No, she didn’t; I made her come with me to keep her safe. ‘Mmm,’ I murmur noncommittally. I close my eyes and lean my head against the window.

  ‘Zoe!’ Dante barks.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t go to sleep. I don’t you want you in the Dreamlands without me.’

  I bet he doesn’t. ‘I’m just resting my eyes,’ I say, keeping calm.

  ‘If you drift off and wake up there, there’s no telling what might happen. The Department know you’re coming back. They’ll have people ready and waiting. If they try to hurt you and I’m not there to protect you…’

  I wonder when Dante decided I was weak and helpless and in need of his protection to survive. Of course, I know he doesn’t want me alone in the Dreamlands because he wants to keep tabs on my every move. But I genuinely think he also believes protection is his job. He doesn’t want to lose his investment – and he doesn’t think I can look after myself.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I tell him.

  ‘I know you, Zoe, better than you know yourself. You’re exhausted. Why don’t we pull over and both take a nap?’

  I’m not sure I’m ready for this just yet. ‘We’ll be too vulnerable in the car. The Department…’

  ‘If we park at the next service station, there’ll be enough people coming and going that even if someone from the Department is on our tail they won’t dare to do anything. Besides,’ he adds with a dark edge, ‘we’re vulnerable everywhere.’

  I’m not sure why he thinks he’s vulnerable but I’m out of arguments and I suppose I’m only prolonging the inevitable. ‘Fair enough,’ I say quietly.

  Dante takes his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at me. ‘You’re afraid.’

  I twist my fingers in my lap. ‘I didn’t leave things with Ashley, Bron or Esme in a particularly good state.’

  ‘You did better than me. It’ll be good to get back. I should apologise to Ashley.’

  I bite back the response that an apology is hardly going to make up for kidnapping her and holding her captive. There’s still a lot to be done and I need Dante on side for at least part of it.

  Dante finds us a spot directly opposite the main service station doors. He turns off the engine while my eyes follow the various people wandering in and out. Some look harassed, some look excited, some look bored. Lucky them.

  I unclip my seatbelt and push my seat back to try and get more comfortable. D
ante turns to me. ‘We can sleep together on the backseat if you want.’

  We might only be within a hand’s breadth of each other but the thought of spooning with him – feeling his hard body next to mine with all its traitorous reactions – is too much. I know I can’t trust him; I can say the same about my libido.

  ‘It’ll be too cramped,’ I manage. ‘Here is comfortable.’

  His silver eyes search my face for a moment. ‘You’re probably right,’ he says finally. He leans back his seat. ‘I’ll see you on the other side.’ He shifts his weight and closes his eyes.

  Swallowing, I do the same. I need to relax if I’m going to fall asleep. I count in my head, the familiarity of the action helping to calm my mind. By the time I’ve reached thirty, my ears are starting to prickle. It’s show time.

  I’d been expecting to apparate in the same forest clearing where I always do. When I open my eyes and look around, however, it’s clear that’s not the case. I’m in a large – and incredibly familiar – marble-floored room. It’s the ballroom in the fairy-tale castle that overlooks my native Dreamlands town. This is where all those poor people trapped in comas were before I came along and woke them up. I pointed the finger at Ashley for the deed, effectively telling the world that she was the dreamweaver rather than me. I wonder how things would have gone if I’d acted differently.

  I shake myself. Rather than worrying over what can’t be changed, or stressing about why I’ve apparated in a different place, I need to take full advantage of my solitude. It won’t be long before Dante catches up to me but if I can find Esme first and explain to her what’s going on, my odds of success will increase a little.

  I don’t waste any more time. Sprinting ahead, my shoes squeaking on the shiny floor, I dash out of the room and hurl myself down the stairs. It’s still daytime so there will be few other Travellers here and my progress will be unimpeded. All I need to do is to find Esme before Dante arrives.