Dark Angel 03: Broken Dream (11 page)

He wasn’t real. He sprang from the darkest corners of my psychic sensibility, my nightmare manifestation of a dark angel. There was no point running another step. I dropped to my knees.

The ground opens up beneath me. I’m Alice falling down the rabbit hole, tumbling out of this world. There are tree roots like tentacles trying to grasp me, underground tunnels
leading nowhere, angels following me, blocking out the light
.

I fall for ever. Deep under the earth the dead inhabit crumbling caves, endless tunnels. They cannot be counted. Bones pile upon bones, they crumble to yellow dust.

And there are terrible, agonized creatures there with gaping, slavering jaws, flesh burned black and eyes that glint like dying coals. They writhe and fall into the phosphorescent fires of hell.

Among the hopeless dead are groaning, suffocating ghosts – men naked to the waist and carrying pickaxes, who were caught in a tidal wave of slurry when tunnels they were building collapsed. Their eyes are wide with fear. I am with them in the dark, struggling for breath
.

I slumped on to the snowy ground, fall unconscious. When I came round, a guy in a peaked cap with a star badge on his jacket raised me and supported me towards the nearest bench.

‘Relax. I’m Central Park Police,’ he told me.

I
 guess he saved my life. Without him passing by on his regular night patrol, I might have died from hypothermia.

He was detached and professional, assured me I was hallucinating when phrases like ‘dark angel’ and ‘spirit world’ fell from my lips. He said it made no sense that I was being chased by multiple ghosts but that he would look out for the guy I tried to describe: short, stocky, mixed-race, wearing a black jacket and a hunter’s cap.

He asked me where I’d been and why I left the party alone.

‘Do you need to get checked out by a doctor?’ he asked when he considered I’d come round enough to talk sense to him.

‘No, I’m not injured.’

‘The guy didn’t touch you?’

‘No.’

‘He stalked you but didn’t follow through with any physical assault?’ The park cop was starting to wonder how much I’d had to drink. His tone grew more judgemental. ‘I’m thinking you don’t want to put this on file at the precinct?’

‘No, I already tried that.’ Standing up, I felt dizzy and disconnected from my surroundings and it was obvious I wasn’t going anywhere under my own steam, so my cop decided to escort me out of the park. He got the address of my hotel and gave it to the cab driver who he flagged down on Columbus Circle. ‘Don’t try this again,’ he warned as I sank on to the back seat. ‘No one’s going to believe your story, OK?’

‘What’s the deal?’ The skinny, wizened cab driver broke the boredom of his night shift by leaning out of his window to engage with the cop.

‘Kid says she had a stalker who turned out to be a ghost or a dark angel or something.’

‘Groovy,’ the cab driver muttered cynically. Judging by his vocabulary and thin grey ponytail, he belonged to the LSD, flower-power generation. ‘A chick who talks to angels.’

‘Don’t encourage her,’ the cop grumbled as the cab pulled out from the kerb.

Down on Hubert Street, away from the Christmas lights, neon signs and giant digital screens advertising vodka, cars and lip gloss, I paid the driver and went into my hotel, not even daring to hope that Orlando would have arrived ahead of me. For a start, I had no idea how long I’d been lying unconscious, and had lost track of the time. Secondly, I hadn’t received any texts asking me where I was, which meant he was still too busy partying with Gwen.

Sure enough, the room was empty when I turned on the light. I sat on the bed and spent hours listening for movement in the corridor, keeping vigil for Orlando until he chose to come back to me.

I wished we’d never come to New York.

At five thirty a.m. he opened the door and relief flooded through me.

‘Hey, you’re awake,’ he said.

‘Where were you?’ As usual, relief turned to accusation in a nanosecond.

‘At the party. Why did you leave without telling me?’

‘I was tired. I wanted to sleep.’ Watching him kick off his boots and jerk his T-shirt over his head, I realized he was back but was still a million miles away.

‘I had a cool time,’ he insisted. ‘Those movie guys know how to party.’ For the first time since he’d come into the room he gave me eye contact.

‘Don’t look at me that way,’ I sighed. The glance contained a challenge then turned into a stare that said he really didn’t want to talk about whatever was on my mind.

‘You shouldn’t have left early. You missed Macy making out with Charlie.’

‘No, I saw that.’ And you making out with Gwen. My silent accusation widened the gap between us.

‘They left the party together.’

‘Cool. I’m happy for her.’ Exhausted, crying inside, I lay back on the bed.

‘Then the park cops came to check up on us, which killed the atmosphere stone dead. They were looking for underage drinkers, said they’d found a girl out in the snow …’

‘That would be me.’

‘Hah. I didn’t know you’d been drinking.’ He sat on the opposite side of the bed, his back turned.

‘I hadn’t. Anyway, how could you possibly know?’

Ignoring my jibe, Orlando swung his legs on to the bed and lay down with me. Still there was that million-mile gap. ‘If you weren’t smashed, what in Christ’s name were you doing out there in the snow?’

I turned away and curled up on my side. Our roles of a few minutes ago were reversed. ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want to discuss it.’

‘No, come on, Tania – be straight with me. It was dead people talking to you again, wasn’t it?’

‘I said, leave me alone. You’re the one who’s had too much to drink.’

‘I’m right. You had another vision.’

‘And what if I did?’ I retaliated, frozen out by Orlando and unable to share the terror I’d felt by the Angel of the Waters, underneath the arches by Bow Bridge.

‘I truly don’t understand what it is with you. Why can’t you walk away from all that crap?’

I sat up with a jolt of anger. ‘What is it with
you
?’ I challenged. ‘It’s not me who’s changed. I’m not doing anything different.’

Head back on the pillow, Orlando closed his eyes wearily. ‘Exactly.’

‘And you think I don’t long to walk away from the so-called crap, to live the kind of easy, ordinary life you want us to share?’

He opened his eyes but said nothing – barrier still up, locking me out.

‘Orlando, you know how my dark angel operates.’

‘Not again,’ he groaned.

‘Yes, again. He’s always around, even when I don’t recognize him. Wherever I go, even in the city and away from the mountains back home, he’s here with me. I’m a main target, remember.’

The blank, barrier-up look went on and on.

‘You know this. You’ve seen him yourself – on Black Rock, then again by Turner Lake.’

Orlando stared at me for the longest time. ‘Really, Tania, I’m thinking about it and trying to work it out. But if I’m honest with you – back there on the mountain, by the lake, I don’t even
know
what I saw any more.’

Thank God the snow had eased enough for the airports to stay open. I wanted to be on that plane, away from New York, soaring above the skyscrapers into the clouds, trying to forget what Orlando had said – the way his betrayal had knocked me sideways like a physical blow, how lonely it felt.

But first I had to meet up with Macy to help her buy a plane ticket to Bitterroot.

‘What’s your flight number and departure time?’ she asked me when I showed up alone outside her hotel.

I gave her the information. She bought the ticket online for a top-dollar, last-minute price. ‘This is me blowing my inheritance,’ she said with a grin. ‘Hey, where’s Orlando this morning?’ She completed the transaction before she noticed that he was missing.

‘He went to the park to say goodbye to … to some of the crew.’ I don’t need to tell you that we’d parted at the gate without a kiss.

‘So do we join him there?’ she asked eagerly.

‘No. He said for us to meet him at JFK.’

Macy stared at me for a long time. ‘“Sorry” didn’t work, huh?’

I shook my head.

‘That’s what I guessed at the party last night when I saw how he was acting.’

‘With Gwen?’

‘I thought – there’s a guy who’s working hard to make his girlfriend jealous. And you know what else I thought – and this is weird – Charlie isn’t the only member of the Speke family to look exactly like a famous movie star.’

‘How come?’

‘I mean Gwen. She could be Lillian Gish’s double – you know, the actress we saw on the first day of our course, the one the villains used to tie to the railway track and the hero had to save her. Gwen’s eyes, mouth, that halo of golden hair – everything is identical.’

She was right, I realized. ‘Well, thanks, that makes me feel a whole lot better,’ I groaned, ‘to know that my boyfriend has ditched me for a 1920s lookalike. Anyway, I figured you were too busy with Charlie to even notice Orlando and Gwen.’ Consulting my guidebook to find out where to pick up a bus for the airport, I saw that the terminus was nearby at Grand Central Station.

‘Yeah, Charlie!’ Macy sighed. ‘You know, he’s the sweetest guy, and so much fun. It feels like I’ve known him for ever, but how long has it actually been?’

‘Under twenty-four hours.’

‘Yeah, and yet I’d trust him with my life. I mean, you’d stand alongside Charlie in an earthquake or a hurricane any day. He’s the guy who would save you from fire, flood, anything major you can think of.’

It was irrational, but as I listened to Macy bigging up Charlie, I started to feel jealous. After all, he was
my
rescuer,
my
caped crusader. ‘You’re sure it’s not Jack you feel this way about?’ I asked. ‘You’re not looking at Charlie and seeing Jack?’

‘After last night, no way. Jack was way out of line.’

‘You didn’t think that way when he danced with you and called you hot.’

Macy tutted and flipped the argument aside. She raced on. ‘I’m so happy Charlie will be there in Mayfield. I’ll spend more time with him, get to know him better. Not that I expect a long-term relationship, don’t get me wrong. I mean, as Jack’s body double, Charlie travels the world. After Mayfield they go to the Bahamas for Christmas. Jack owns a suite in Atlantis – that’s near Nassau, where Michael Jackson had the penthouse. Then it’s Europe for Jack’s next movie, a spy thriller set in Geneva.’

‘Stop!’ I begged. ‘Really – what happened? Yesterday it was Jack you were fixated on, not Charlie.’

Macy slowed down at last and gave my question some thought. ‘It was. But then I took a reality check. Let’s face it – even if you take away Jack’s problems with alcohol and women, he’s way out of my league.’

‘That’s true. Plus, he’s married,’ I reminded her. ‘Unlike Charlie, I guess.’

‘Oh yeah, Charlie’s single. He just split from his last girlfriend. That was Angela – Angela Taraska. He knew her in LA before she hit the big time. Actually, it was Charlie who got her the audition for the major role in
Siege 2
. Without him, she wouldn’t have made it.’

‘Jeez, you learned at lot.’

‘Yeah, but that’s Charlie, you see. He helps people. I asked him, how did he feel when Angela got the part and started this affair with Jack – you know those two are an item, don’t you? And poor Natalia, she just has to suck it up. It’s in all the magazines; people talk about it all the time on Facebook.’

‘Stop,’ I said again. Macy’s appetite for gossip made me uneasy. Besides, I felt the little seed of jealousy germinate and grow inside me.

On top of which I was bang in the middle of the biggest emotional crisis of my life so far – Orlando had slammed the door in my face and left me crying in the dark, abandoned me in the vast heavens where good and bad angels battled. I was lost among the stars and comets, hearing voices, watching out for those time-travelling destroyers of innocent souls, crouching in fear.

To cut out the drama and get back to basics, this last morning in New York was so not what I’d planned when Orlando and I shared our starry night moment.

‘See!’ Macy squealed, pulling out her phone and showing me a text message from Charlie. ‘He says we should go meet them in the Loeb Boathouse. Orlando’s there too.’

‘With Gwen?’ I asked. I couldn’t help myself – the question slipped out.

‘Hey, no need to go overboard. Gwen’s cool.’

‘It’s not Gwen I’m worried about,’ I said as I stuffed my guidebook into my bag and jumped with Macy into the cab she’d just hailed.

But it was, really. Macy was right: she was a Lillian Gish lookalike – small and dainty, with a heart-shaped face, rosebud mouth and fair curly hair. I recalled the way Orlando had kept hold of her hand and looked into her eyes. And I knew with a dull pressure round my heart that Gwen Speke was everything that I wasn’t.

The film crew had moved out and the boathouse café was open for business as usual, so Macy and I followed Charlie’s instruction to meet him round the back.

He was standing in a narrow doorway texting someone, so he didn’t see us arrive. Even off guard, in charcoal-grey fleece and thick, lighter-grey scarf wound carelessly round his neck, he looked like he’d stepped out of an ad for a designer perfume. His stance was easy and graceful and when he did look up, his hazel eyes were clear and bright under those strong, straight brows.

Macy rushed forward and in the way he embraced her I knew they’d moved on beyond the first flirty stage into serious physical contact. In other words, I wondered where they’d spent the night.

‘Hey, Tania.’ Charlie greeted me warmly, his arm round Macy’s shoulder. She snuggled close, her arm around his waist. ‘We missed you,’ he said.

I shrugged and looked past him down the narrow corridor, feeling strung out and wretched.

‘You left early.’

‘Yeah, I needed to sleep.’

‘But it looks like you didn’t,’ he observed. ‘Did I get this right – are you the girl the park cops picked up?’

‘But I wasn’t drunk,’ I protested. Then I stopped myself before I got into details about my dark angel mugger.