The town ahead of them wavered, like it was caught in a heat haze, but it solidified as they grew closer. Bushes, trees, hedges, low walls and lamp posts – landmarks that had evolved since Valkyrie’s childhood, lining the road to Haggard. They passed the graveyard and the wide gates of the nursery, passed the service station on their left and the cottages on their right, the bus stop, and the Chinese restaurant that everyone still regarded as the new Chinese place even though it had been there for the last ten years. There were people, too, and cars on the road.
“They’ve stopped looking like him,” said Omen.
“Down,” she said, keeping her eyes away from the rear-view mirror.
“I’m just peeking,” Omen said. “Look at the people. They’re not like Cadaverous any more.”
“No,” said Valkyrie. “They’re taken from my memories.”
She had become aware of a pressure, somewhere in the back of her mind, like the tentative prodding of fingers. She eased her foot off the accelerator, let the car slow right down as she focused.
“Are you OK?” Omen asked.
“Quiet.”
“Sorry.”
She’d had a few lessons on how to shield her thoughts from a psychic assault, and she took what she’d learned and built a wall around her mind. The townspeople flickered in and out of existence. She built the wall taller, made it thicker, and the street emptied of both people and cars.
Omen looked around. “Where’d they go?”
The car drifted and the front wheel hit the kerb and Valkyrie veered off and braked. The people were suddenly back.