Visioness (38 page)

A pair of crimson-cloaked
guards appeared almost out of nowhere.

“Escort this man and woman
to Lady Morphier please,” the nurse said. “Get them out of here.”

Rhene looked at the two
guards, both of them burly, both of them apparently ignoring the blood seeping
through the bandage wrapping his hands.

“Well go on!” Rhene said.
“Take me to Lady Morphier!”

Sure enough, they began to
march him up the halls.

That was too easy
. His thoughts extended out
to Charlotte, who he hoped was with her sister now waiting for his arrival.

The gates opened before her,
allowing in the green-coated Dreamless and the crimson-cloaked Dreamers. A sea
of emerald and ruby, exploding with the flash of gunfire and roaring cries of
agony.

She watched around her as
those that targeted her dropped, as if sniped by some unseen angel. Whoever it
was, she thanked them in her mind, ducking and weaving her way towards the
front door.

A person emerged from the
huge building before her, as the stone statue of the stag above them rained
rocks upon them, struck by a stray bullet.

“Charlotte Blaise?” said the
man in the cloak.

“Yes.”

“Come with me.” He wrapped a
hand around her and escorted her into the Halls of the Oen’Aerei.

Her head pulsed more heavily
as she went. She took a moment to catch her breath, to ease her quivering
heart, as they ascended the stairs. Her mind felt ready to burst open, for the
bone and skin and brain to explode and spill onto the carpet before them.

“Are you well, Miss?” asked
the escort guiding her.

“I’m fine,” she said,
gripping her head. “Just the gunfire…it’s loud.”

“How you managed to get
through all that has got me stumped,” he went on. “I do apologise, but we must
hurry. Lady Morphier does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Of course,” she said,
following along behind him.

Charlotte,
the voice in her head
whispered.
Charlotte. You’ve been so very brave. You’re almost there.

The voice seemed so
familiar, yet somehow not. The wafting scent of vanilla perfume was almost
overpowering now, choking her lungs as she strove to get her breath back. Why
did she feel so tired? She had run so far, she had dodged so many bullets. She,
in truth, had no idea how she’d managed that herself, but she was here. She was
playing her part. It was all she could do.

I have been brave,
she thought, feeling an
excitement and a happiness welling within her.
I’ve been so very brave.

They arrived at some kind of
sitting room.

“Lady Morphier,” the escort
said as he stood in the doorway. “I have Charlotte Blaise for you.”

“Let her in,” came the
clipped, polite tone of Lady Morphier. The man stepped aside, allowing her into
the room.

The first thing she saw was
Lady Morphier holding a gun. The second thing she saw was Adabelle, turning to
look over her shoulder.

“Charlotte!” Adabelle
screamed, a smile crossing her face, tears streaming. She got up from the
chair, and wrapped her arms around her sister. Charlotte felt so warm here in
her sister’s arms, and she didn’t want to let go. Yet with this warmth and
safety came the headache, stifling her thoughts, making it difficult to make
sense of what was happening.

“Thank goodness you’re
safe,” Adabelle whispered, running her hand through her sister’s hair, kissing
her on the forehead.

“Of course I am,” she
replied, looking up into her sister’s eyes.

“Come now, Adabelle,” Lady
Morphier said. “I have done what I needed to. Take a seat next to me with your
sister and watch the remainder of the battle. Then, we’ll bring your father
back.”

Adabelle’s gaze moved from
Charlotte to Lady Morphier. Charlotte saw it in her eyes: hatred. Hatred for
Morphier, hatred for her father, hatred for the battle that she was forced to
watch.

Charlotte could feel him
now, though. Rhene was close. Aunt Marie was close. Her head deafened her with
the pounding, pulsing agony it unleashed. It took her a moment, but she
suddenly noticed she was on the ground screaming.

“What’s happening?” asked
Lady Morphier. Charlotte watched her rise from her chair, pointing the gun
directly at Charlotte. Charlotte screamed something, but she didn’t know what.
Wait! No! She could hear it now! “Mama!” she screamed. “Mama!” So loudly, so
strongly, she screamed it. Then, she only heard mumbles, and whispers…someone
whispering her own name…
Charlotte
…and the throbbing, drumming beat of
the pain that wanted only to tear her head open.

Then she heard a name. Adabelle
said it, joyfully and fearfully.

“Rhene!”

Everything went black.

In the madness that ensued
upon Rhene and Aunt Marie’s arrival, Adabelle was able to note three things.

First was the fact that all
three involved in the mindlock—Charlotte, then Aunt Marie, then Lady
Morphier—all dropped to the ground. Marie, who was in her chair, simply slumped
back, mouth wide open, eyes staring wildly.

Secondly, she noticed the
bandage around Rhene’s hand, and the blood that stained it a shimmering red.

Thirdly, she heard something
from the Frequencies. A mighty snap, and then a click and then some kind of
explosion, as the wall of a mind was forced open.

Adabelle had been able to
feel the Frequencies around her the whole time she had been within the
Oen’Aerei halls. Just because she had stepped out of them meant nothing. The
tendrils of thought were endlessly reaching out and touching the minds of those
who ran through the Frequencies. But in that moment, she felt a new source open
up. It was a new part of the Frequencies she had only seen before as a void.

Her sister’s mind became a
reachable part of the Frequencies, and Adabelle took the chance while she had
it. She threw herself—body and all—into her sister’s thoughts, arriving in the
Frequencies.

There was music in the
Dream. Beautiful, soft, gentle music, made for lulling people to sleep. It was
The
Dreamers Lullaby,
played on some kind of string instrument. It made
Adabelle miss her own violin, miss her afternoons spent playing music.

Then she smelled that
familiar vanilla perfume. It floated through the Dream, permeated through
everything, through darkness. Mists rolled in. They came from nought but
darkness, and sat there, shifting and swirling, making dark shapes all the
while. These were the mists of a mind yet to dream. The mists of confusion and
discovery.

And then from the mists of
the Dream stepped a woman. She had dark skin and the deepest brown eyes, her
hair a wild mess of black. She wore a bright yellow dress, too, that flowed and
waved about on an unseen, unfelt wind.

She looked so much like
Adabelle…only older. Dark hair flowed from a youthful face.

“Mama?” Adabelle whispered,
her voice echoing despite her soft tone.

The woman nodded, opening up
her arms.

Adabelle ran to her mother,
like she had wanted to all this time. She opened her arms wide, tears flowing
out of disbelief.

As her body met her
mother’s, though, she simply passed through, like she was a ghost.

Or a memory,
she thought darkly.

“What’s happening, Mama?” she
asked. “Why can’t I touch you.”

“My dearest Adabelle,” she
said. “I’m less than a dream, less than a memory or a thought now. I’m just an
idea; and you can’t touch ideas.”

“But…why?” she asked. She
stared at her mother now. She looked so real…so solid! Yet she passed right
through her.

“It was my agreement with
your father,” she said, head lowered in shame. “On the night I left you at the
University, when I was hunted by your father, he let me make a bargain. I was
allowed to let you and your sister live.”

“In exchange for?” she
asked.

“What else? My life.” She
shrugged. “I had kept you girls from him to protect you, and he found that the
greatest betrayal. And then when Charlotte was born, and Therron came to help
keep my end of the bargain, he couldn’t kill me.” She paused here. “His threats
were empty. He arrived at the hospital and sobbed into my shoulder. He cried
like a child and told me he couldn’t do it, that he still loved me. But I had
already trapped him. The Oen’Aerei sealed him in a sphere, and as a
counterstroke, he had a part of my mind sealed in Charlotte’s own.” She smiled,
holding a hand over her heart. “This part. The part that knew his weakness
here, the part that knew the truth that he himself could barely voice: that he
still loved me. That he still cared, and couldn’t bear to see me die. But I had
betrayed him, and when they found our bodies, we were both dead. In slicing my
mind he had killed me, and in sealing his separate to his body, I’d killed him.
They found our corpses alongside a little girl who could not dream, who would
not dream until that lock was broken.”

Adabelle’s mind reeled at
the thought. She couldn’t imagine her father loving her mother, let alone
sobbing.

Lady Morphier had been
right,
she
whispered.
He did love her.

“And he still loves me, as
he love you girls. It was the one good thing that remained of the man I once
loved, but it was one of the greatest parts of him.”

Adabelle suddenly realised
she was crying, though she didn’t know why. She didn’t feel sad, but nor was
she happy now, either. She just…
was.

“If only you could have seen
him before that darker part took over,” her mother whispered, eyes distant,
nostalgic. “He was beautiful, once, and loving and kind and caring, and I loved
him, and he loved you. You and Charlotte, though he never truly saw her.”

“Come back with me,”
Adabelle said. The gentle tune of
The Dreamer’s Lullaby
was suddenly
tainted. It changed from the gentle strings to a music box, distorted by
darkness. And then an almighty stench of cologne appeared, as strong as ever.
Therron was returning. “We can get rid of Therron together.”

“You can’t bring me out of
the Dream like you can with him,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “He is a
full conscience, kept whole and complete.  I am but a slice, a sliver of a
whole human. If you tried to drag me out, I would only fade, as I will now I am
no longer bound by the mindlock. I would never see the light of day or feel the
wind on my face. I would be but a shadow, and then I would die. It is not a life
I want, nor one anyone could suffer through.”

“But I could help you,”
Adabelle said. “I’m meant to be a powerful Dreamer. I can do something to help
you! I can’t just sit back and watch you here and let you fade!”

“But you have to, Adabelle,”
mama replied. “I can’t live in the real world. I can’t. I can barely exist
here, yet somehow I have remained. I will go soon, and you have to let me go.”
She stepped forward. Adabelle should have felt her mother’s breath on her face,
the heal rolling of her skin, the caress of her dress as it billowed in the
wind. Yet she felt nothing, saw nothing; only sadness. But also, acceptance.
She knew what she had to do. “Be strong, Adabelle. Let me die, Adabelle. Let me
fade and remember me as I was. Not as I am.”

Adabelle nodded, sobbing. She
saw the woman on the doorstep. Her mama raised a hand, running it through her
daughter’s hair. She saw that same apologetic and assuring smile from that
night, when her mother left, when her father ruined her life. She felt like
that child once more, standing on the doorstep. Only this time, she was alone.

Her mother began to fade
into the mists, the darkness of the Dream Frequencies closing in.

“But mama! How am I meant to
stop him? How can I stop Therron?”

“Let matters take their
course,” she replied. “I find things tend to work out in the end.”

Adabelle went to hug her
mother, but her arms simply fell through as she faded. She hugged air for a
moment, imagining the warmth of her mother’s arms, the safety she would feel
were she there.

“I love you,” Adabelle
whispered, tears rolling.

But she was already gone,
that sweet perfume lost, that loving voice no longer echoing in her ears.

She was gone, and Adabelle
was alone.

A clang within the Dream
reminded her that Therron was coming. He was nearer now. Now was the time. This
was the chance she had been waiting for.

Now or never,
she thought, as she
prepared herself for her father’s appearance.

A minute after the three
women collapsed, and Adabelle disappeared, Rhene saw Lady Morphier begin to
stir.

He had already shifted Aunt
Marie into the room properly, so he could shut the door and lock it. People
were banging outside, yet he remained steadfast.

“I will open it in a
minute!” he called, as he ran over to Lady Morphier.

As he passed the windows,
though, his eyes fell on the battle playing out on the grounds before them. People
in red and people in green were firing guns and slashing swords and stabbing
with bayonets on the end of rifles. Blood soaked into the greens, into the
earth, as people dropped.

Judging from a cursory
glance, it seemed like the Dreamless were winning, but that might have been
simply because the green showed more vibrantly against the red than the crimson
cloaks did.

He knelt down beside Lady
Morphier, who was muttering under her breath. She touched her head with her
hand, cradling it as if it held some massive weight.

“My head,” she whispered.
“The pain…it’s gone.”

“The mindlock is broken,
miss,” Rhene said. He could feel Adabelle with the vines of thought extending
from his mind. He could touch Charlotte’s mind, and even Aunt Marie’s. Before
there had only been addled madness, but now there was some kind of sense there.
Some kind of order and organisation to her thoughts, as they were once again
allowed the space they ought to be allotted.

“Oh, Melréar!” Morphier
moaned, as she got herself back up from the ground. She scrabbled for her
pistol, which had fallen underneath the chair. Rhene grabbed it before she
could and pointed it at her.

“No, you’re not having
this,” he said, pulling back the hammer.

“No! You don’t understand!”
she sobbed, grabbing at the hem of his coat. “He’ll kill me if I fail! Count
Therron! He’ll kill me!”

“Judging from the way that
battle is going out there, he might kill you anyway,” Rhene said, pointing out
the window. “If I don’t kill you first.”

Lady Morphier crawled the
few inches between her and the window and stared out, horrified as her
crimson-cloaked Oen’Aerei were mown down. Only two of the Nhyxes remained and
even then they were tired from battle. One of them was still leashed, dragging
the body of its master behind it as it ran. The body was stained with blood and
mud, flesh and muscles torn and bones broken from the madness of the Nhyx’s
struggle.

“We’re losing,” she
whispered. “Despite everything, despite our preparation, we’re losing.”

And despite the Dreamless not
having their leader,
Rhene added in his mind, the hole in his hand spiking with pain.

“I’m dead,” she whispered.

“Maybe not,” Rhene said.
“You’ve made a mess of things. My suggestion is to call of the men at the door,
go out there and stop this battle before there’s any more death.”

He could feel Adabelle’s
thoughts now, and he was sure Lady Morphier could, too. Therron’s secret…the
truth he’d kept hidden. He could feel it now.

He loved her mother,
he thought.
And he still
does. He loves her like he loves his daughters.

It was a shocking thought,
but it somehow made sense. He looked to Lady Morphier, at the way her
expression changed from fear to sadness.

She did not speak it, but
she mouthed it.
He doesn’t love me. He still loves her.
The last bit she
whispered, and Rhene felt the pain, too. The truth she couldn’t bear to hear;
the truth she had known all along.

“He was using me,” she
whispered. “I…I have nothing.”

“You always have something,”
Rhene said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You have a choice. You’re
facing a crossroads now and you can take one path or the other.”

Lady Morphier’s eyes shifted
about madly, as she processed his words. “I have a choice.” She muttered the
words. “I have a choice.” She nodded. “A choice.”

“And you know you have a
choice. Go out there,” Rhene said, tone blunt. “Go out there and stop this
battle if you have nothing to live for. Call off your army, demand a parley. I
can assure you, the one who wanted this most of all is gone.”

Lady Morphier’s mind was
reeling, but she nodded, if a bit vacantly. “Very well,” she said. “I will go.”

She rose from the ground,
and walked to the door.

Rhene listened, hand on the
gun in case she tried anything silly.

“Take me out to the
battlefield,” she said to the men at the door. “I must end this war.”

Finally,
Rhene whispered.

Rhene turned to Charlotte,
who herself had not yet stirred.

“Where am I?” said Aunt
Marie, who was shifting in her chair. “What’s happening?”

“Aunt Marie!” Rhene said,
standing up. “There is so much to explain. But in a little while. I have to go
keep Adabelle safe.”

“What?” she said.

“We haven’t got time,” he
said. “I have to go.”

And then he entered the
Dream, through Charlotte’s mind.

The second he was within the
Frequencies, he heard that familiar song, and that familiar scent. He saw
Adabelle, too, standing alone in the mists, sobbing.

Adabelle wiped her eyes. The
cold isolation of that Dreamspace set in once her mother faded. She looked
about, at those rolling white mists. One more minute. That’s all she wanted.
One more minute to speak to her mother, to keep her close, to imagine at least
for a moment that she was still alive. A scent drifted in on the silent, unfelt
wind. It smelled mildly like vanilla. Her mother! Her mother was returning!

But then it faded again. No,
not faded. It was replaced, but a different kind of scent. A warm scent, like
cinnamon and cologne. It drifted in, soft and unobtrusive, different to the
scent that preceded her father.

Rhene emerged from the mists

“Adabelle!” he cried,
running up to meet her. “Adabelle! It worked! Aunt Marie is back to normal. I
mean, she’s a bit confused, but nothing an explanation won’t fix.” He paused.
“Why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing,” Adabelle
said, wiping her eyes. “I’ll tell you later. For now we have to worry about
Th—”

“Hello, Adabelle,” Therron
said, stepping out the shadows, dressed in a coat and top hat. “Hello, Rhene.”

“Therron,” Rhene nodded,
stepping between Therron and Adabelle.

“Come now,” Therron said,
“not this again. Did I not already hurt you enough in our last battle? Surely
you know I have no intention of hurting my daughter.”

“You won’t have her,” Rhene
said. “She’s not going to help you out of here and that’s that.”

Therron’s eyes widened in
disbelief. “I believe my daughter was born with a mouth. I think she can speak
for herself.” His body leant slightly to look past Rhene.

“I’m not going to help you
out, Therron,” she said. “One thing is for sure, though: your tyranny ends
here.”

“What makes you think you
have a choice?” he asked, continuing to approach in his slow, careful manner
that Adabelle found so terrifying. “What makes you think you can do anything
aside from bring me out of the Dream? As Rhene discovered there is no way for
anyone to kill me here. Use that pistol on me, if you want, Rhene, but the
bullet will go right through me and I will keep on living. I’m but a Dream, an
idea! I assure you I will come back again and again.”

She didn’t want to believe
him. She wanted to deny him, to end him, and yet she couldn’t. She knew it to
be true, and that made her heart ache.

“I need you, Adabelle,” he
said. “I have come to you for a second chance at life. Is that too much to
ask?”

She simply stood there. When
Therron realised she was not speaking, he went on.

“A touch of reality,” he
said, pinching the air. “Just that; that’s all I ask. I want to enter the world
again, a new man, and start over. I made many mistakes, as I have already told
you, but I did one thing right. Without a doubt, creating you was my greatest
act, the one I am most proud of.” He was close now, uncomfortably so. “To feel the
wind, the touch of the sun. To taste
real
food, rain running down my face;
to know what it is to love again! That is what I want; that is all I ask. From
my own flesh and blood, I ask for freedom.” He held his hands wider, modestly. “Can
you not grant an old man that one wish: a second chance?”

“No,” Adabelle said,
immediately and bluntly. “No, I won’t. Life is short and, at times, uncertain,
as I have come to discover. One chance,” she said, holding up a single finger.
“
One
chance is all we ever get. That’s part of its terrible beauty. We
only get once chance to get it right, and if we stuff it up, we have that
opportunity to fix it, but if we don’t fix it then it only gets worse.” She
paused here, thinking of Mrs. Abeth, of Larraine, of her mother.
Mama….
“You have made so many short, cut off the candle’s wick before it has even
begun to burn. Why do you deserve a second chance, when no one else is allowed
one?” She pointed into the shadows. “Somewhere out there is my sister, on the
ground because of a lock you put on her mind. If anyone deserves a second
chance at life, it’s her! Despite everything, she still loves and cares and
fights. She is brave and strong and resilient! She is everything I can’t be,
and that kills me and makes me stronger at the same time. Give
her
a
second chance, Therron. Give that girl the chance I will not give you.”

She felt tears well in her
eyes, but these weren’t sad tears. They were impassioned tears: furious,
fervent, loving tears. “You have deprived her of a mother all her live,
deprived her of her dreams, and used her as a vault for your own lies. You say
you sealed away that sliver of my mother because you loved her: no! That’s not
love. You can’t love anyone
and
do what you have done to my family! And
you can’t go about spouting that you did any of this for love! You did this
because of your selfishness, because you wanted a second chance at life, so you
killed others to get there!”

Her heart was racing now,
her breathing shallow. She had Rhene’s hand in her own, though, and his other
arm was around her stomach, keeping her close. Keeping her safe and warm.

“I have changed, Adabelle!”
Therron said, extending a hand. “I have changed for the better. You’re my
daughter! Can’t you hear that?”

“Don’t call me your
daughter!” she roared, pushing against Rhene’s tight hold. He was the only
thing stopping her from pummelling the man before her.

“You are my daughter,
though,” Therron said. “You are my flesh and blood, and you are the only one
who can bring me out into the world.”

“I will bring you into the
world to die, then,” she said. “I would turn your memory to slivers as you did
to my mother and let you fade to nothing if I knew how. I would seal you away
in a mindlock, if I was sick enough to make a person suffer that fate. But I am
not going to burden someone else with my own fear, my own lies as you have done
to Charlotte.” She stepped forward, breaking free of Rhene’s hold. “I will end
you.”

Therron stood before her,
expression impassive. His lips were quivering, though, with a pent up emotion
he had kept inside. Her words were hurting. For the first time, she felt she
was doing
something.

I’m missing something,
she thought as she stared
down Therron. Things weren’t right. There was something she was forgetting. A
part of the puzzle she was missing. Now was the chance she had to stop Therron,
but until this other piece fell into place—whatever it was—she wouldn’t be able
to complete her task.

Another figure appeared from
the shadows, stepping into the Dream.

“Charlotte?” Adabelle asked,
confused. “What are you doing here?” She realised the answer before she had a
chance to respond. She was asleep now, in the room from which Adabelle had
watched the battle. Her mind was unlocked, now. They were there, now. That’s
whose mind they stood in. Hence why it was so barren: it was not used to
thought.

“The battle is ending out
there,” Charlotte said. “Lady Morphier has gone out to the battlefield now.”

“She did as I told her,”
Rhene said. “Good.”

“It’s over?” Therron asked.

“She’s surrendering,”
Charlotte said simply.

Therron’s mouth quirked, the
quiver in his lips turning into a quake.

“You are a Dreamer,
Charlotte,” Therron said. “My beautiful daughter.”

“Hello, papa,” she said,
glancing quickly at Adabelle who stared at her for calling him that.

“Will you not help your
father escape?” he asked. “Will you not forgive your papa? Let him feel freedom
once more?”

Charlotte looked to
Adabelle. “Don’t do it,” Adabelle said. “Don’t do it.”

She can’t do it,
she quickly realised.
She’s
his flesh and blood, but she’s not a Sturding. She’s still asleep.