Night Terrors by Helen Harper Read Free Book Online

of tension in my tendons. I tiptoe back to the door again. Whoever is sitting in the car has not moved.
    I reach down inside myself for strength. I’m not afraid of what might happen in the Dreamlands – not like this anyway – so I shouldn’t be frozen into inaction here either. What I need to do is to find out exactly who’s out there. The more I know, the more power I’ll have. Besides, if I can be Ninja Zoe when I sleep then I have to be capable of something similar when I’m awake.
    I keep hold of the phone in case I need to call for help, then I sneak back to the kitchen and, as silently as I can, open the window. With my heart beating loudly against my ribcage, I pull myself up onto the counter and squeeze out. The one good thing is that I’m already fully clothed. I learnt my lesson the hard way: it’s not much fun apparating in the Dreamlands while wearing skimpy nightwear. My mind drifts for a moment to Adam’s dream Zoe and her negligee. Yuck.
    As soon as my feet land on the soft grass, the Chairman flies out from under the bushes and scampers off into the night. Glad that he’s out of the way, I turn back to the window. I should leave it open so I can get back inside when I need to but that  means it’ll be easy for someone else to get into my house. I choose the middle ground, leaving the door barely ajar. Unless you get up close, it looks locked. It’s the best I can do.
    Rather than foolishly saunter out of my own back gate, I eye my neighbour’s fence. It’s not particularly high and I reckon I can vault over it easily. I sidle over, place my hands on the top and try to heave myself over. My feet scrabble against the side, desperately seeking purchase. In less than three seconds, I’m forced to let go.
    I rub my upper arms and frown. What would be a simple barrier in the Dreamlands is almost insurmountable here. It’s ridiculous. My subconscious self clearly thinks I’m capable of much more than I am.
    I try again. This time I do slightly better and pull myself up far enough to straddle the fence. I’m wary of the watcher – or watchers – spotting me, so I keep my body low. It’s not only awkward but it’s rather painful. I try to ignore the uncomfortable jab of the fence into my groin and swing my leg over. The fabric of my jeans gets caught at the top and there’s an ominous rip. I yank as hard as I can, causing the fence to wobble dramatically. The wood creaks and I panic that I’m about to bring the whole thing crashing down. I pull away and try to leap off. There’s another rip as I finally free my leg.
    Rather than glide through the air and land in a forward roll as I imagined I would, I thump down with all the grace of a bull elephant, squashing half a dozen late-blooming flowers. Not only am I covered in scrapes from the rough wood, I’m also caked in mud. This is definitely not like it is in the dream world.
    I groan softly and roll to one side on the dewy lawn. Placing my hands beneath my hips I push up, just in time to see a pair of sensible black shoes stride up and stop next to me. My head drops. I. Am. An. Idiot.
    ‘Sergeant Rawlins,’ I murmur. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’
    The policewoman bends down, a curious expression on her face. ‘You’re not the most graceful cat burglar, Ms Lydon.’
    I press my lips together firmly to avoid making a snarky comment which will land me in even more trouble and get to my feet. Rawlins is dressed for duty, her hair in a tight bun and her clothing immaculate. I take my time brushing off the mud but it’s wet and claggy so maybe I’m making matters worse. When I spot the glimmer of amusement in Rawlins’ eyes, I know I’m right. I give up and drop my hands.
    ‘You have a new car,’ I say, as if I’m reprimanding her for daring to change vehicles. Even with the shroud of darkness, I’d have recognised her old one.
    She looks surprised. ‘No. But I’m off duty now. It’s mine rather than the official police