––––––––
When I come round, not only am I still not back in my own bed, but I also feel nauseous and dizzy. Whoever that bastard was, he clumped me hard enough on the head to cause mild concussion. The thought panics me. I can’t go to a hospital when I wake up, I simply can’t. I remind myself that this is only happening in a dream. It’s my subconscious; it’s not physically real. I know enough by now, however, that the thought is no comfort.
I’m in a small room. It’s not a prison cell exactly; there are no barred windows and no steel-fronted door. Neither is there a bed or a bucket serving as a toilet. Other than two chairs, the room is empty – but it still feels like I’m in jail. I can’t work out why. If it’s because I ventured inside the Bubble then they’d have arrested Ashley too. If arrested is the right word for what has happened.
I stand up and pace around, counting in my head less to measure the room I’m in and more to calm myself down. I’m on my seventeenth circuit when there’s a thump and the door opens. I tell myself not to cower in the corner. Funnily enough, it works; I feel more secure in small spaces. I draw myself up, ready to eyeball whoever appears and demand to be set free.
The man who strolls in looks rather benign, twinkly even. He has a white beard and moustache framed by a ruddy complexion and smiling blue eyes. He reminds me of someone, but it’s not until he beams at me that I realise it’s Santa Claus. Perhaps that should make me feel relaxed but it doesn’t. What’s more creepy to an agoraphobic who’s terrified of a home invasion than a man who can stealthily enter your house while you’re fast asleep? I’d feel more comfortable standing in the middle of Piccadilly Circus than enjoying a visit from Saint Nick.
‘Zoe,’ he says warmly, ‘it’s so good to meet you.’
I growl. Rather than being taken aback, his expression exudes worry. ‘I apologise for your ill-treatment, it shouldn’t have happened.’ He tuts. ‘My deputies are overly enthusiastic sometimes. I simply wanted to meet you and they translated that as something entirely different.’ He gestures at the open door. ‘You are free to leave at any point. I just want to have a chat with you first and welcome you properly to the Dreamlands.’
If I were anyone else, I might be tempted to take him at his word. Whoever this guy is, he’s doing a bang-up job of appearing friendly and non-threatening. But he doesn’t know me; I’ve spent years perfecting the art of paying attention to small details. I notice things that other people wouldn’t, such as the slight bulge in his pocket that suggests he’s carrying a weapon, and the flickering shadow in the corridor that tells me we’re not alone. What really slams the nail in his coffin of fake affability is the faint flaring of his nostrils and the tension in his neck. This man is snarling with rage; he just does a better job of hiding it than other people.
Knowledge empowers me. Rather than being subsumed by panic, it drains away. I wish I could act as rationally in the real world, I think, as I paste on a smile and play the game.
‘I’m glad you recognise how unfair this situation is. I’m a stranger here and instead of being welcomed, I’m brutally attacked. It’s about time I met someone friendly,’ I lie. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he gushes. ‘I should have introduced myself. I’m the Mayor. I’m in charge of this little town and its environs.’
Mayor. Interesting how no one apart from Dante has mentioned his existence. It’s got to be either because they don’t respect him enough to spare him a thought – or they’re too scared of him to make him a topic of conversation. ‘You’re the man in charge! Fantastic! Do you lead the Department?’
There’s the tiniest flicker in his eyes. ‘I do,’ he says smoothly. ‘You’ve heard of us?’
‘Of course. Ashley was telling me how you have everyone’s best interests at heart.’ Amongst other things. He puffs out his chest with pride so I take a gamble and push the boundaries. ‘Dante mentioned you too.’
The pride vanishes. ‘You shouldn’t talk to him. He’s a criminal.’
‘Really?’ I widen my eyes. ‘What’s he done?’
‘He’s threatening the security of everything the Dreamlands stands for.’ His face darkens and I decide I shouldn’t have judged Dante so quickly. If the Mayor hates him, then he’s probably not as bad as I thought. Whatever reason Dante had for leaving the Mayor’s employ, there’s more to it than either of them is letting on.
The Mayor smiles at me again, even more brightly. ‘Let’s forget about him and tell me more about you.’
‘Me? I’m very uninteresting. Just a small-town girl who’s taken aback by this place. It’s really quite unbelievable.’
‘Mmm, it’s quite something,’ he agrees. ‘Which small town are you from?’
‘Oh, you won’t have heard of it.’