A Traveller's Tale
by Greta Jameson
Chapter 6: Things Are Not What they Seem
The next morning, Miranda sat opposite Snape in Albus's office with her arms crossed adamantly across her chest. She pursed her lips and stared angrily at the floor. Snape seemed unconcerned by her display and ignored her as he calmly waited for Dumbledore to begin.
"Miranda, what seems to be the problem?" Albus began gently.
"You know exactly what the problem is, Albus. With all due respect to my colleague," she said gesturing roughly towards Snape, "I would prefer if we privately discussed the events of last night. I would just feel more at ease if . . ."
"Headmaster, I can leave, if you . . ." Snape started diplomatically.
"Stay, stay, Severus. I've known you both a long time, and I don't know what the details are, but I know that you have had some sort of ongoing argument that is the true basis of Miranda's objection."
Both Snape and Miranda shifted uneasily and turned away from each other in response.
"Good. I see that my arrow hit its mark," Albus teased. "Whatever the problem was, it's over now. Do you both understand?" Continuing more seriously, he said, "there are much more important issues on the table than harsh words and wounded pride. Dark forces have tunneled right into the heart of Hogwarts and there's no doubt in my mind that Malfoy was sent here - by Voldemort himself - to assess our awareness of their plans and your individual loyalties. You must put aside your petty personal disagreements and work together. I need you both, as I have never needed you before. We all do."
His appeal moved them and without coaxing, they leaned towards each other and briefly shook hands.
"There, that's more like it," Albus smiled. "Now, Miranda, could you please tell us what happened last night?"
She sighed loudly and began, "Lucius Malfoy used his charm and good looks in an attempt to seduce me last night. He feigned interest in me and my gifts, praised me at every opportunity and cajoled me into sharing a bottle of wine with him. I rebuffed his advances, but was able probe his mind and discovered that his visit was indeed part of a plot by Voldemort to turn me to their cause. He told me that . . ."
Her report was interrupted by a loud knock on the leaded glass window. Albus opened the window and a large falcon lit on the sill, offering the parcel attached to it's outstretched leg. Albus read the address parchment and said with a mischevious grin, "It's for you, my dear, how unexpected."
Miranda bit her lower lip nervously as she undid the ribbon that bound the lid. Penetrating Malfoy's mind had left her drained and confused by what she had found. Lucius had done many terrible things in his life, but unlike so many of the deatheaters, he had acted not to fulfill some bloodlust, but in defense of Voldemort's community and the world that he truly loved. He felt that his actions were justified and in retribution for the cruelties his friends and fellow community members had suffered at the hands of the aurors and the armies of the West. Yesterday morning, her mission like her conscience had been clear, but today's forecast was troublesome and overcast.
She gazed at the contents of the box in awed silence. It contained an exquisite necklace. Each of the tiny flowers comprising the collar was no larger than a thumbnail, but was finely crafted of deep yellow gold. Each blossom had double rows of delicately curved petals with ruby stamens radiating from a diamond center. The note attached to the box read:
My Dear Miranda:
I hope that you will forgive me for my horrendous behavior last night. I am sincerely sorry for treating you so poorly. You are a remarkable lady and deserve far better from me than I have offered. Please accept this gift as a token of my apology.
I am very truly yours,
Lucius
She passed the note and the box to Albus, who read it and stared thoughtfully back at her as Snape spoke about his meeting with Lucius. "The Lucius I spoke with last night seemed the same insatiable, power-hungry man that I have always known," he began. "He asked me to deliver Potter to Voldemort, which I refused to do. Then he asked me to deliver, Miranda, which I agreed to do."
"He what?" Miranda cried
"Undoubtedly part of the plan to acquire a telepath and incorporate your skills into the community. If Lucius' seduction fails, they expect me to deliver you by force," he said offhandedly. "He also told me that Voldemort has asked him to be his counsellor, and that he was considering the offer, but had not yet accepted. He left thinking that I am loyal to Voldemort, and that I despise Miranda enough to kill her."
"Thank you both for your excellent work," Albus said. "The foreknowledge of his appointment as counsellor is vital to our plans, Severus. Thank you. Miranda, can you elaborate more on what you were able to glean from his thoughts and memories?"
"Well, there are horrible scenes from his past," she answered holding her hands over her eyes and watching his memories flash by. "Regardless of the court's past rulings, there is information enough here to confirm that Lucius was a willing follower of Voldemort, and not living under the influence of anyone's curse. Then there are recent things of interest, conversations with Voldemort, images of Druben and its layout which will be very useful. . ."
"Sound like an excellent telepathic acquisition then. I'll need you to transfer those memories to my pensieve as soon as you are through with your morning's duties. And," he paused and glanced anxiously at Snape, "I would like you to continue to assess and . . . personally cultivate Malfoy."
"I don't think that that's a very good idea, you don't understand. This has been unexpectedly difficult for me. You'll see for yourself, when you go through his memories. It's not an open and shut case." She looked awkwardly around to avoid telling him that for the first time in her career, she felt compassion towards her target.
Albus smiled gently and said, "Miranda, I understand perfectly the personal issues involved. At least I think I do. However, given Severus' report, I feel that we must allow them to think that the velvet glove approach is working - for your own safety, of course.
"Albus, I really don't want to do this. This is a situation that could very easily go beyond our positive control. The acquisition has allowed me to understand so much about his motivation, his hopes, his fears and his regrets. It has created a bond between us that may make it difficult to keep an appropriate professional distance."
"Absolutely ridiculous!" Snape spat. "Lucius is a cold-blooded killer and nothing but a servant of Voldemort's twisted will!"
Miranda shook her head and quietly reminded him, "There was once something worth believing in Severus. Or has your memory failed you once again?"
Snape stared back hatefully at her before drawing his cloak closed and turning back toward Albus.
"That's enough, Miranda," Dumbledore cautioned. "Remember we all have to work together if we are to win this one." He sighed loudly and continued, "Miranda, I would like you to return Lucius' gift immediately and send with it a letter that speaks of your . . .understanding of him, but also of your reluctance to become involved with him - perhaps because of his standing in Voldemort's world."
"That much I can do. But I should not be alone with him." She looked toward the door as the bell tolled a quarter to nine and said, "I know I cannot trust him . . . and I'm not sure that I can trust myself."
"I'll take that into consideration and offer what guidance that I can throughout. I think it would be best if you deposit Lucius' memories in my Pensieve as soon as possible. You'll feel better when you are free to them."
She left the room with barely a nod for either man, and went to teach her first class at Hogwarts. As she walked towards her classroom, she reflected that his memories had given her a unique view into the mind of the adversary that she couldn't easily forget. Worst of all perhaps, she saw herself and all of the aurors as an invading army out to obliterate a small group of scholarly people that Voldemort's community once was.
After the echo of her footsteps had faded, Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair and wondered whether or not he should voice his concerns.
"Yes Severus, Do you have something that you'd like to discuss with me?" Albus queried
"It's really not my place to say, but I don't think its right for you should force her to do this. Even I can see that it's going against all of her best instincts, and I hardly know her."
"I'm asking her to work with Malfoy to buy us some time, Severus. I have to think of how to turn this situation to our advantage and I need a few more . . ."
You are using this woman as bait to catch Lucius Malfoy," Severus interrupted forcefully. "You don't know him like I do. If he realizes that she is associating with him for strategic purposes, he will kill her without so much as a second thought!"
"Yes, this one is a bit tricky, but it is also a unique opportunity to recruit the second most powerful person in Voldemort's world."
"Opportunity? Is running a successful operation the only thing you care about?"
"Severus, I realize that your concern for Miranda is the cause for your anger, but . . ."
"I have no concern for Miranda! My only concern is for the safety of my colleague!" he shouted over Albus.
"But Severus, Miranda has done this for us before - quite successfully."
Snape closed his eyes and sank back in his chair.
"Come on, you know how it is," Albus began gently. "Every auror young enough or attractive enough uses the promise of love when it is deemed the best way to manipulate a potential asset. And besides, he already desires her. I'm hoping he'll fall in love with her.
Severus shook his head disbelievingly. "No. Lucius is no fool and he's very unpredictable. If he falls in love with her, he is likely to carry her off to Druben."
"The details are still taking shape in my mind, but that is exactly what I wish for him to do."
Severus stared coldly back at him and felt that bottomless pit open inside him once again. "If he harms her in any way, Albus," Snape hissed as he stood up abruptly. "I swear that my revenge will make my father's entire life look like an opening act!" He walked quickly to the door, but before he touched the handle, he turned around and stared in shock at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I . . "
"Sit down, Severus," Albus commanded gently. "There's something I should have told you a long time ago. Something about Miranda. . ."
The Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years walked into a Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom unlike one they had ever seen before. The orderly rows and columns of tables were replaced by groups of four and five desks. Behind a large, wooden table at the front of the room, Miranda Traveller sat leaning back in her chair, feet on the desk, reading a muggle news magazine. She was dressed in a pair of worn denim trousers, a large cobalt sweater, and cordovan loafers. When students stared a bit too long, she would look up briefly from her reading and say with a smile: "Come in, sit wherever you'd like." When all of the students found chairs, she sat forward with her chin resting on her hands and scanned the room, making momentary eye contact with each student.
"This will never do, people," she said as she stood up. "Look at what you've done: Slytherins all grouped on this side of the room, and Gryffindors all together over here. This is a large class, twenty-seven of you. Three pods of desks on each side of the room. I want two people from each Slytherin group to get up and switch places with two people in the opposite Gryffindor group, starting with you, Mr. Weasley and you, Miss Granger. You two switch with Mr. Harrison and Miss Miles." Ron and Hermione looked anxiously at each other, but got up and moved.
When all the moving and grumbling was through, she continued, "Alright, now we have even distribution of the two houses. Now, I want to break up the house couples, where possible. Each table of four will alternate one student from each house. These will be your seats until further notice."
Then Miranda walked around the front of the desk and asked, "Why do you suppose I did this? Any thoughts on why I arranged the classroom this way?" Her question was answered by silence. Even Hermione was quiet.
"I've removed the rows, because in addition to individual achievement, this class will focus on problem solving. I will often give you scenarios to solve or roles to play and you will approach them as group efforts. The spaces between the groups of desks are wide, because I will move throughout the room during classes. There will be less of a boundary between teacher and student as we try to navigate a path through the dark underworld. And lastly, the houses are mixed because bravery and ambition are not rivals to be pitted against each other. In the proper mix, they keep each other in check and can spur truly outstanding achievements. You will learn respect for each other. We must band together; dangerous times lie before us all."
She slowly walked around the room as she introduced herself, "My name is Miranda Traveller. My gifts are transformation and telepathy. I am an auror, who has practiced the craft to one degree or another since I was six years old. I learned the craft from my father in the eastern forests. Together with my mother, he . . ."
"If you are such a powerful witch, why are you dressed in those muggle rags?" Draco Malfoy asked boldly.
She turned round to face him and smiled, "Good question, Mr. Malfoy. What do you think?" When he looked away, she opened the question to the floor, "Anybody?" Still silence, this time punctuated by a few girlish giggles. Miranda quickly walked over to the Slytherin girls, "Miss Rodman and Miss Johnstone, why did you laugh?" They froze in terror of her question. "Come on. If you were walking through the park, and saw someone who looked like me, what would you assume?"
"That . . . you were muggle," Celia Johnstone finally blurted out.
"Exactly! Things are not always what they seem"
"Brilliant," drawled Draco under his breath.
Miranda wheeled round and flew over to Malfoy, slamming her hands loudly on his desktop. "You may leave this instant if you wish, Mr. Malfoy"! she said loudly. "But I suggest you stay, because the Dark World is dangerous to those who choose to remain outside it, to those who tiptoe through its shallows," and bringing her face close to his she said, "and to those who wal-low in it."
In the seconds that followed, the room seemed to darken, but Miranda glowed as if she had gathered all of the light to her. She stood to her full height, and transformed in to an enormous hooded snake towering over Malfoy, ready to strike. She allowed him a few moments of sheer panic, then went back to her normal self in muggle clothing and continued: "I will tolerate no more of your disrespectful commentary. If I hear any, Slytherin will loose points. And remember," she said with a grin, "I can read minds."
Then, addressing the entire class once again, she said, "Miss Johnstone said that if she saw me in the Park, she would assume that I was a muggle, but I'm not. In what ways other than dress do we signify who we are? Just call out answers, don't be shy."
"Manners and speech," Hermione called out.
"Good, Miss Granger, any other ways?"
The answers came from around the room, "Posture."
"Hygiene."
"True, we equate dirty and bad, don't we? In fact, it's rarely true, at least in my experience." Then after a pause, she said, "There's something else I'm looking for . . . any ideas?"
All she received were silent stares in reply.
"Probably the most important indicators are our thoughts and intentions. None of you can hear other's thoughts like I can, but all wizards and witches can sense them. No matter how benign you appear, if you are bent on evil and make no effort to disguise it, you will be detected. It is that sense that you must employ throughout your lives, and it is that sense that I will teach you to cultivate in this class.
"I will also teach you how to shield your own mind from hostile agents, so that they will have difficulty detecting you. I have spent many days by Voldemort's side, and he was never aware that I was more than a sympathetic companion. Such is the importance of self-defense."
Tremors of terror emanated from the Gryffindors and Slytherins alike.
"How come you didn't kill him when you had the chance?" asked Ron incredulously.
"Quite simply, Mr. Weasley, because it was not - my - job. My assignment was to observe and report, so that is what I did.
"Now, I'd like to play a little game I call 'Friend or Foe'," she said, conjuring a large screen at the front of the classroom. "Your survival may depend on your ability to assess threats. As you move through the world, you must be alert to hostile surveillance - enemy agents may be watching you. You must be aware of both magical and muggle security systems that might expose your presence. And lastly, if traveling in disguise be on the lookout for the unexpected risk of meeting a friend or acquaintance that may unintentionally expose your true identity. On this screen, scenes will appear, some familiar, some less so, with multiple characters. The point is to assess the type of threat posed. Just call out your answers, don't be shy."
The first images that appeared on the screen were street scenes in Diagon Alley. Students whispered happily to themselves as they recognized Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and the Apothecary. Then the image of Gringotts fixed on the screen. Wizards, witches and a host of magical creatures entered and exited the bank. A witch played her flute near the corner, and a workman washed the windows of a nearby shop.
"Any ideas about what the threat or threats are?''
The students looked nervously at one another; it looked like a normal threat-free street.
"Well there are actually several threats portrayed." She waved her hand in front of the screen, and the bank glowed more brightly than the rest of the scene. "Wherever important transactions of business take place, hostile surveillance is sure to be present. Here, we have people depositing and withdrawing money. Other places to watch are Ministry buildings, Embassies, and sometimes Universities. The profile of people visiting these places and the frequency of their visits could be important pieces of information. Which of the people in the scene are likely to be watching others?"
"Oh, the people who are sitting or standing in one place," said Hermione.
"Very good. And who are they?"
"The flute player," said Slytherin Robert Harrison.
"Good. Anybody else?"
"The workman," three students yelled simultaneously.
"Excellent! You've got to be particularly careful of workmen. They have ladders and tools and can get into places very easily - excellent cover for an enemy agent, at least in our world."
The next scene was the lobby of a grand hotel, much larger and brighter than the Leaky Cauldron. To the right, as one entered the lobby was a small restaurant, and opposite the reception desk stood rows of plush, comfortable-looking chairs and sofas. "This is a hotel in Paris, frequented by both muggles and magicals. Ideas as to threats?"
Having learned from the last scene they took a while to examine the entire picture, instead of focusing only on the main activity. "Reception knows when you check in and check out," said Linda Thorne, one of the Gryffindors.
"Absolutely. What else?"
"The whole thing looks threatening to me," Hermione said with a grimace.
"Have you ever considered a career as an auror, Miss Granger?"
She blushed, and gave a flustered, "Umm, yes," in reply.
"Good. What are some of the threatening things that you see?"
"Well, anyone in those chairs who seem to be waiting could actually be watching, especially this fellow with the newspaper in front of his face. And over here at the café, any of the diners could be doing surveillance as well as eating."
A broad smile spread across Miranda's face. "Excellent. Now let someone else have a crack at it. Anything else?"
"Oh, those muggle cameras. Over on the ceiling." said Fiona Williams, a Slytherin girl.
"Great job. Hotels are very dangerous places, that is if do not wish to be seen. You all did very well. Now, what do you do once you have identified a threat?"
This time they didn't to be coaxed, students around the room yelled out answers:
"Confound them"
"Curse them"
"No, a hex"
She waited for the din to pass, and whispered loudly, "When one has detected a threat. The most prudent course of action . . . is to do NOTHING. You will loose your advantage if you let them know that they have been identified. You may also put yourself in great danger. Let me show you what I mean," she said as she walked to the right and into her office at the back of the classroom.
After some loud rummaging she emerged with a long ash staff and walked slowly back to the front of the class. "This staff, looks like an ordinary piece of wood, doesn't it? But its not. If fact it's not wood at all, it's . . ." but she was interrupted by the tolling bell which signified the end of the class period. "Very well, for the next class, I want each group to design two Friend or Foe exercises, and I will post the best examples. There is no assigned text; instead there will be a final project that constitutes fifty percent of your grade. I want you to begin exploring the subject of self-defense on your own. I am of course available for consultation, my office hours are posted on the door." Then she said, "Class dismissed," as she disappeared and the staff clattered loudly to the floor.
The students were stunned and remained in their chairs - they all knew that it was impossible to dissapparate within the confines of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore, entered the classroom and quietly urged the students to move on to their next classes. When he was alone in the room, he shut both doors, walked over to Miranda's office and quietly said, "You can come out now, dear. They're gone."
The office door opened a creak, and Miranda peeked out, and asked with a smile, "How'd I do?"
"You are to be congratulated on your knowledge, pedagogy and your showmanship, I have only one question?" he said smiling.
"What's that?"
"What in the world were you going to do with that staff?"
She laughed and said, "I haven't a clue
That doppell was only a shell, a powerless representation; it couldn't have done any magic at all. It was just a dramatic way to conclude the class."
"As I suspected," he said as he stared grimly at her.
"What's wrong?"
"I've come to ask you a favor."
"Anything, of course."
"I have received no replies to my owls asking for Pass eradication experts. I fear the owl was intercepted and I need you to send a telepathic transmission to your father."
"My father?"
"Yes, I need him to assemble as many defense and security experts as he can on short notice and get them here at once . . . quickly, but quietly."
"Yes, of course I will. But I'm afraid I don't understand the urgency of your request."
"Well I also sent a letter to your father informing him that I was in receipt of Sebastian Snape's papers," Dumbledore replied.
"Oh, Albus! You didn't!" Miranda gasped
"I'm afraid I did, my dear. And if Voldemort's agents intercepted that letter, it won't be long before they come to claim their legacy. Before long, Hogwarts itself may be under siege."
Snape didn't have much time to prepare for the next class and moved quickly around the room fitting lids on cauldrons and using magic to parcel out supplies and chemicals for the students. He was shocked and angry that Dumbledore had failed to prepare him for this moment. How was he supposed to behave around Miranda now that he knew? What was he supposed to say?
When he had completed the lab set up, he slumped down in a chair with the heels of his hands pressed hard against his tired eyes. It was a delicate situation. In a single moment a stranger had come to occupy the most intimate and significant place in his life. Long ago, when he was imprisoned in for disobeying Voldemort's orders, Miranda was the voice that had kept him sane. Everyday without fail she was the voice that spoke kindly to him and kept him hopeful that he would someday be released. And it was she who told him to seek out Dumbledore and who had changed the course his life.
Over the years, emotion and reason had colored and dulled his memories of those times, and he began to think that he had imagined the voice. But still during his service as Albus's double agent - when he seemed to return to Voldemort's side - the memory of the voice had also comforted him. On troubled nights, when his deeds threatened to overtake him, it calmed him and lent the illusion of purpose to all the death. Over the years his life had become a landscape of lies, but real or imagined, the voice was his one true thing.
The sound of students walking loudly down the steps interrupted his contemplation. Snape walked to the front of the class, and fingered through his lesson plan as Draco tumbled roughly into the room, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle.
As the class wore on, Draco heard Snape's voice droning on about the day's lesson, but hardly paid attention as he worried about the comments Traveller made in her class. He wondered what Traveller knew about his family and his father's activities. Should he tell his father what she said? Or was he reading too much into her words?
"Mr. Malfoy! Time to wake up!" Snape said as the other students were beginning their preparations.
Draco roused as if from a sleep and began to fumble with the supplies in front of him. He had neglected to read the lesson in advance and had no idea of what to do, so he glanced anxiously at Fiona Williams. She did nothing to help him until Snape turned away, and then whispered, "It's a concealment potion. It's not in the book, it's his own concoction - he gave us the recipe at the end of the last class on a parchment."
He just shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with his head tilted to one side.
"You really are a piece of work, aren't you," she said cattily. "Here, we can share mine. You slice up the leeches," Fiona said handing Draco the plate and dissecting knife.
"No way!"
She looked at him and calmly said, "If you want any further help from me, you'll slice the leeches."
He grimaced as his hand touched the first worm.
"And be careful about it. You only want the salivary glands, that's where most of the hirudin is."
Draco macerated the leeches while Fiona worked the lanthanum into a fine powder with the mortar and pestle. When Celia whispered to Fiona, Draco nicked a few pieces of the lanthanum rock and hurled one of them at Neville Longbottom, who frowned and looked back at him.
A few moments later he hurled another tiny rock at Neville's partner. A crash of glassware followed as the rock struck the back of Harry's neck. Snape quickly came over to assess the problem, "Five points from Slytherin," he said coldly.
He sidled over to Draco as the Slytherins protested the deduction and quietly said, "One hand washes the other, Mr. Malfoy. In future, you can only expect my protection when you have the courtesy to prepare for my class." Draco stared back at Snape, as he vainly thought of something to say in response. Then, Hermione whispered loudly, "Ron, for the last time, would you put those away!"
Snape turned from Draco, magically righted Harry's worktable and went over to Ron and Hermione. "What is more important to you than today's lesson, Mr. Weasley?"
"Nothing Sir," said Ron fearfully.
"Let me have those papers," he whispered.
"What papers?" asked Ron innocently.
"The papers that you are holding on your lap, you insolent fool."
Ron slowly handed Snape the stack of encrypted messages with a shaking hand. Snape looked at each page in turn and said, "Two weeks detention and ten points from Gryffindor, for Mr. Weasley's lack of attention. Ron started with an open mouth, but Hermione said, "Professor Snape, Ron was . . ."
"I will tolerate no further abuses of my generosity," he boomed. "Finish your work - and not a single word from any of you!"
Lucius sat in the front room of the Malfoy family home. It was a large room divided into several areas to receive guests. As he relaxed into the sofa, his lightly colored clothes disappeared into the champagne-damask fabric. He read the last of the days' newspapers and waited for the afternoon post. He was trying not to think about her, but he was waiting for Miranda's reply. When the falcon finally arrived, bearing a box and a letter he smiled and threw the news aside. He leaned forward, and checked the box; the necklace was still inside - good girl. Then he placed the letter on his lap, and sank back into the couch to read:
Dear Lucius:
I will not accept your gift and I am divided over whether I should accept your apology. The necklace is beautiful and I am sure valuable, but I am a woman whom you cannot buy.
"So sweetly superior - I am so undeserving!" Lucius smiled and purred to himself.
I enjoyed your company last night. You were kind, polite, interesting to talk to and interested in me - I thought it possible that I had found a new friend. I was happy to try to please you by conjuring a lovely garden and a delicious meal. But to offer to assist my career in return for my affections was a perverse end to an otherwise enjoyable evening.
"Yes tell me how awful I am - I want you to!" he said still smiling.
Because I am a telepath, I know that it was your loss of Madeline that led you to Voldemort, and I also know of your willing and continued support of him. Although I think you a desirable man, I do not wish to associate with someone who owes such close allegiance to the Dark Lord. A relationship between us is possible only if you abandon your ties to Him.
I have left my life as an auror and do not wish to be your enemy. I bear you no ill will and, naïvely perhaps, also hope that you abandon your explorations of the netherworld. Regardless of your choices, I wish you the best.
Miranda Traveller
He threw the letter onto the table in front of him, and pressed his palms together to contain the rage that rose like a red tide to blind him. He paced furiously around the room as he shimmered with energy and wondered if there was anything about him that she didn't know. How dare she violate him like this! And then be fool enough to tell him what she had done! She had made an unfortunate and possibly fatal mistake and would be made to suffer for her offense.
Salazar and Madeline Snape slept peacefully in their bed - or at least Madeline did. Salazar's sleep was racked with frightening dreams. He wrestled with a foe who was on the brink of overpowering him and yelled, "No! I won't let you!"
"Salazar, wake up! You're having a nightmare!" she cried as she shook him.
As he came to he grabbed Madeline roughly by the arms and continued to fight. When she screamed, he looked wildly around the room. And In an instant he recognized familiar surroundings and released her. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It's alright, now. It was just a dream," she said as she smoothed his brow.
He lay on his back, panting, "It was so real. It was my father. It started out nicely enough. Sebastian praised me for what a good son I had been and said he had a favor to ask of me."
Madeline smiled ruefully to herself to think that that beast of a man continued to haunt their dreams so long after his death.
"And then he asked to share my body," Salazar continued. "When I refused, he wrestled me to the ground with the strength of ten men and . . ."
"Never mind. It's over now. It was just a dream, that's all. It wasn't real. Let's go back to sleep," she said as she curled up by his side. In a few minutes she was asleep, but Salazar remained awake and stared watchfully into the night.