The Prince of Mist (Niebla 1)

Alicia leaned towards him. Sometimes his sister had a peculiar intensity to her, as if she could shatter glass with a single glance.

‘Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you,’ she said.

‘But …’

‘Promise. On your life.’

Max sighed. ‘This better be good. OK. I promise. What is it?’

Alicia shot one last look at the top of the stairs to make sure nobody could hear them. ‘The clown. The one in the film …’ she began.

Max didn’t like where this was going.

‘What about it?’

‘I’ve seen it before.’

‘You’ve been to the garden of statues?’

Alicia shook her head, confused.

‘What garden? No. I mean I’ve seen it before.’

‘Where?’

Alicia hesitated. ‘In a dream.’

Max looked into Alicia’s eyes. She was deadly serious about this. He felt a chill down his spine.

‘When did you see him?’ asked Max, his heart beating faster.

‘The night before we came here.’

It was difficult to read the emotions on Alicia’s face, but Max thought he noticed a hint of fear in her eyes.

‘Tell me about it,’ Max asked. ‘What exactly happened in your dream?’

‘It’s strange, but in the dream he was … I don’t know … different,’ said Alicia.

‘Different?’ asked Max. ‘How?’

‘Well, he wasn’t a clown,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders as if it didn’t matter, but her voice was shaking. ‘Don’t you believe me?’

‘Yes, I believe you,’ Max lied.

‘Do you think it means anything?’

‘No,’ Max said. ‘It was just a dream. I wouldn’t worry about it.’

Max smiled reassuringly at her. He had picked up this trick from his father, who was a master. You just had to pretend to be absolutely calm and positive about something and then people would believe you. For the coup de grâce he placed his hand on Alicia’s arm and gently squeezed it. His father used that one on his mother all the time.

‘I guess you’re right,’ Alicia agreed, suddenly embarrassed. ‘You won’t tell anybody, will you?’

‘Course not.’

‘I’d better go to bed too. Long day…’

‘Sounds like a good idea.’