“At least you believe me.”
“Of course I believe you. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it sounds insane.”
“I’ve believed far stranger things than you’ve told me. I’ve believed vegetarian hotdogs might taste decent one day.”
“Never going to happen.”
“What I mean is you’ve just proved what it said in the book. The keys are what matter.”
“And I lost mine so there’s no chance of seeing him again.”
“Wait. Did I miss something. I got the impression you didn’t want to see him again.”
“I don’t. I mean I do. I mean, I don’t know.”
“Well, shush. What you need is to get some sleep. See how you feel in the morning.”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel. I lost the key, I can never go back even if I wanted to.”
“I don’t know about that. The key turned up out of nowhere last time, didn’t it?”
Daisy sat up. “I was thinking about that. Who sent the key in the first place?”
“Just be grateful it did turn up. You’ve got to see something most people will never ever see or understand. You’ve been to the past.”
“And now I’m back in the present and I’m going to bed, my head’s killing me.”
“Take something for it.”
Daisy did as she was told, downing a couple of tablets with a glass of water before undressing in her room. All she wanted was to sleep and not dream. She managed one of the two.
Her regular dream came back to her almost as soon as her eyes closed. It was as if her brain was trying to make sense of what happened, getting confused as to the time it could have happened.
She dreamed she was in the bedchamber with him, once again tied to his bed. This time he held no scourge. This time he held nothing at all. He joined her under the blankets, holding her in his arms, making her feel safe.
Then there was a knock on the door. She had to answer it thought she didn’t want to. Her feet were already sliding across the floor, the silver key gripped tightly between her thumb and forefinger.
She unlocked the door and pulled it open. On the other side was a gaunt bald figure in a monk’s cowl. His feet were bare.
“Good evening, Daisy,” he said. “I believe you have something for me.”
She looked down at where he was pointing. The key in her hand. Instinctively she wrapped her fingers around it, taking a step back from him. He shook his head, beckoning her.
Though her feet didn’t move, she slid across the floor, getting closer to him as if the room was tilting ever steeper. He opened his mouth to reveal razor sharp teeth, getting wider and taller and he was about to swallow her whole.
Jock was by her side in an instant, slamming the door shut. “The barefoot man,” he said by way of explanation. “Lock the door. Quickly.”
It crashed open and there he was again, beckoning her forward. Jock had hold of one hand and the barefoot man had hold of the other. She felt herself tearing in two, her soul ripping in half.
She sat bolt upright in bed coated in sweat, panting for air. That wasn’t like the dream had ever been before. Something had changed. The barefoot man. Who was that? Jock hadn’t mentioned him. Had her imagination conjured him up?
She tried to settle back down but it was a long time before she closed her eyes. It was even longer before she slept again. When she did, mercifully she didn’t dream.
Somewhere in the distant past a figure sat up. He smiled in the darkness. It had been a long time since one of the keys had been used, long enough for most people to forget they even existed.
But in the darkest corners of the most disreputable taverns, talk could still be heard about the six silver keys. Many offered to find them for a price. No one had ever managed it. Nothing but empty boasts. Until now.
