‘Why not?’
I’m getting tired of being spoken about as if I’m not here. ‘Would this be a good time to ask what a dreamweaver actually is?’
Bron turns his head towards me and I lunge for the knife. It takes him a second to react, giving me enough time to claw at his fingers and force him to drop it. It clatters to the ground but before I can reach down and pick it up, Dante pushes Bron backwards and grabs my arm. I open my mouth to yell but he places a finger across his lips. That’s when I hear voices outside. It sounds like they’re on the other side of the door.
Dante shoves the hood back over the mare’s head while I reach for the knife, glaring at Bron. All three of us move quickly behind the miserable shape of the last mare, just as the door opens and several people walk in.
The Mayor’s voice is clear. ‘They really are stupid creatures,’ he says. ‘We’ve tried training them several times but it doesn’t work. It doesn’t matter though, we just need to let them loose behind the right doors and all our wishes will come true.’
‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea. You’re messing with people’s subconscious minds. Allowing mares to attack them that way might create lasting damage that cannot be undone.’
I hiss softly. That was good old Doctor Miller.
‘You know, Steven, you often find reasons to argue against my plans. I’m starting to think that you’re working against me.’
‘No, no! That’s not the case at all! I’m just suggesting caution...’
‘Tell me,’ the Mayor continues, as he comes round the corner to where we and the mares are, ‘why does the serum not work?’
‘Wh – what?’ Miller stammers.
‘I tried it on my wife,’ the Mayor continues. ‘Goodness knows, I’d do almost anything to stop her incessant yapping. I reckoned about twenty-two hours a day ought to do it; I need her awake for the rest because someone has to do the cleaning. But no matter what I did or how high the dosage was, it wouldn’t take. Darndest thing.’
‘I told you that it won’t work on everyone–’
‘It didn’t work on my neighbours either. Or their dog. It didn’t work on the annoying kid who drives past me every morning in his souped-up Fiat. It doesn’t work on anyone.’
‘Maybe I need to take it back to the laboratory and have another look.’
‘And then,’ the Mayor says, completely ignoring Miller’s response, ‘there’s Ms Lydon. I can’t believe that you can’t find her medical records to establish where she lives. “In Scotland” is not good enough.’
My heart is thudding so loudly in my chest that I’m sure everyone can hear it. Bron takes my hand and squeezes it.
‘I hadn’t realised locating her was a matter of urgency. As soon as I disapparate, I’ll try again.’
‘Is she the dreamweaver?’
‘What? No! I–’
‘Doctor Miller.’ The Mayor’s voice hardens. ‘Is Zoe Lydon the dreamweaver?’
‘She can’t be. There’s not been a dreamweaver here since–’
‘Since Albert Hall. Who, incidentally, is no longer the focal point of the town square,’ muses the Mayor. ‘Interesting, isn’t it?’
‘But he’s been replaced by Salib! He wasn’t a dreamweaver.’
The Mayor tuts. ‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Such a shame. I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt, you know.’ He pauses. ‘But I’m afraid you’ve just given yourself away.’
‘What do you mean?’ Miller’s nervousness is becoming palpable.
‘Salib wasn’t a dreamweaver? Wasn’t?’
‘Um...’
‘You’ve clearly been poking your nose into matters that don’t concern you. I tried to kill him here. The wound he received should have caused almost instant death. He was a tough bastard though and he clung on, returning to reality before I could make sure the job was done. I assume that the reason he’s not been seen here since is because he did indeed die. The question remains, however – how do you know he’s dead?’
Oh God. I close my eyes. Because of me; Miller knows Salib is dead because of me. I twist my body so I can see what’s going on from underneath the belly of the chained-up mare next to us. Miller’s face is pale but the Mayor looks positively cheery. He beckons to one of the uniforms standing beside him who passes over something. I crane my neck, trying to work out what it is. When I do, I suck in a breath. It’s a knife, far longer, sharper and more deadly than Bron’s kitchen knife that I’m clutching.
In that moment, I realise what’s going to happen. I have to do something to stop it. I start to stand up. If I use my knife first, even if I only stab the Mayor in the arm, Miller might have a chance. Before I’ve barely moved, however, Dante yanks me back down. For the umpteenth time since I’ve known him, his steely arms wrap around my waist.