You might think it strange that I know of Falkor. As stated previously I had never been a big reader but in the housing estate there had been an elderly couple a few doors down from us. When mum was doing her training and working really long hours to provide for herself and me, sometimes, if there was no alternative, I ended up with Mr and Mrs Faragay. He smelt of moth balls and she smelt of lavender. They always had long life milk in the fridge and bags of choc chip biscuits. Mrs Faragay was fond of mum and she insisted I was no trouble. Of course, all I ever did was drink milk, eat choc chip biscuits and watch ‘The Neverending Story’ on their TV.

It was part of a random assortment of DVDs she had picked up at a garage sale. Others in the collection might have been the favourite of other children but oh how I loved that movie.

I was still young enough to be enthralled by the magic of it and not too old that I saw the puppetry and the background trickery that made the world they were in so much bigger than it was. I watched as Bastian was tormented by the bullies, suffering the loss of a parent just as I was and, I have to say, enduring a similar experience at school. I watched him read the book, the world coming to life around him, so bright and beautiful, so dangerous yet thrilling that it made my world look bland and hollow.

I wanted to ride the speed snail or gallop across the plains with Artax, Atreyu’s horse. I wanted to be the one chosen by the Empress to find a way to fight against The Nothing, a void that threatened their magical world. I struggled through the swamp with Atreyu, feeling despair drag at my soul, sobbing as Artax was sucked beneath, grieving for the loss of the faithful horse. I was alarmed at the sight of Morla, the giant tortoise that rose out of the swamp, a benign mountain as she hibernated, a grouchy old crone with great wisdom when she was awake.

I strained with Arteyu, feeling hopelessness overcome me as the weight of responsibility to find a way to fight The Nothing dragged me down. And then, even as the wolf creature, Gmork, the servant of The Nothing, lunged to devour me, I imagined what it would be like to be picked up at the last second, scooped out of the swamp, safe in the grasp of the best dragon in the world.

Falkor, the luck dragon.

“We have to get him out of there.” I gasped.

“That’s what we’re trying to do.” E.J. insisted. “Sam, come and work this thing for me, will you?”

Weiss swapped places with me, sitting with Falkor to reassure him.

E.J. held out the tablet. “All we know about the tunnel system is in here.”

It was not a promising sight. Falkor had gotten wedged in a pretty tight place.

“I just can’t see how we can get him out.” I sighed. “It’s the one tunnel that doesn’t intersect with that big vertical chamber that the sandworms were in.” I glanced over my shoulder, wondering how much he could hear. “E.J.,” I whispered as softly as I could, “there is one really obvious way to do this…”

“I can’t risk it.”

“Surely Weiss would recognise that the instant and painless moment of incineration would be better than being trapped down here until he starved to death.”

E.J. shook his head. “It’s not just her ire I’d be risking. It’s her life.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When a fictional character vanishes in flame, any part of themselves that has fallen away does the same. Falkor is not like many other dragons. He is not just scales and claws…”

“He’s hairy…” I realised.

“Weiss has been sitting with him for hours, patting him and reassuring him. If just one hair is on her…”

He didn’t need to finish. I knew that one hair on Weiss flaming out of existence would be enough to take her out too.

“Then what do we do?” I asked.

“I have an idea but it’s a bit risky. Weiss,” he gestured to her to come over, “we need to get Falkor to the vertical tunnel which will give us access to this set of underground train lines. Once there, Sam, I need you to direct Falkor through the train tunnels, avoiding the trains, obviously and people and platforms…to this exit.”

“Okay…but how do we get him to that position?” I asked.

“Weiss?”

“I can make a way.”

“Let me help.” I offered then realised that was a bit lame.

“Sam,” E.J. said firmly, “Weiss is going to knock a hole through twenty feet, possibly more, of earth and concrete which may collapse behind Falkor. For the sake of your mother, I need you as far from this as I can afford to put you. I’ll get you to where you need to be and then you need to get Falkor here.” He pointed to the tablet.

“Alright.” I nodded. “I can do that.”

“Great.”

It took E.J. and myself about an hour to reach the place where he was to leave me.

“What if something goes wrong?” I asked.

“If Falkor hasn’t reached this position in two hours, then something has gone seriously wrong. Make your way to this topside exit and get back to the train station. Bluey will be able to let you know if there’s been a cave in.”

I felt a tremor of anxiety. “You don’t really think there will be a cave in, do you?”

“It’s a risk we’re taking but if Weiss can do her bit, I need you to do yours. Get Falkor topside.”

“What then?” I blurted, something suddenly occurring. “I mean, how do we get him home? It’s not as if we can just fly him to the bookstore and get him down into the drains…”

“We’ve got that covered.”

“But how…”

“You got the book on you, right?”

I nodded. “It’s in my coat.”

“Hang onto it. Weiss will meet you on the way out.”

I watched him walk away, casual as you please despite the risk he and Weiss were going to take.

“Where are you going?” I asked nervously.

“I’m going to clear the community off the platform. Falkor’s route will take him straight through their settlement.”

“I hope you’ve got enough bars of chocolate!”

E.J.’s chuckle faded out into the darkness. I sat down in the tunnel, resolved to wait.

I checked the time on my phone and decided that a text wouldn’t go astray to mum. Goodness knows where I would be at midnight. The text was impending, unable to send from this far underground and without wifi connections to carry it on. The moment I was within reach of any kind of wifi signal, the message would zip to mum and I would be out of the dog house before I was even in it.

The minutes ticked on. I wanted to play games on my phone but the good ones needed wifi and even the boring ones chewed through the battery so I let it be, checking it now and then to see when I should start panicking.

I was close enough to a set of underground tracks that I could feel the rumble as they went past. Each time I felt it, I wondered if it was the train or the sound of Weiss smashing through solid earth, causing a cave in. I wondered if she was alive, if Falkor was buried beneath thousands of tonnes of rock or if E.J. was trying to dig them out. My imagination got the better of me so when I heard a huffing and a scratching becoming louder and louder, I was nearly ready to bolt.

Out of the darkness loomed Falkor’s lion face. It was a little different to the movie but somehow the fierceness of his appearance was held in tension with the intelligence and kindness in his eyes. I should have been terrified but when I saw him, I nearly wept in relief.

“Hi. I’m Sam. I’m going to show you the way out.”

The tunnel wasn’t much bigger than Falkor’s body. He had to wiggle and scrape with his claws, pulling himself along metre by metre. I continued to encourage him and urge him forward until we reached the mouth of the tunnel. It emptied out onto a set of two train tracks. As I stood at the edge of the tunnel, I could feel Falkor’s breath on my legs. I turned around and looked into his majestic, white lion face.

“Trains, big, long metal snakes, travel these tunnels.” I explained as best I could. “We don’t want to be seen and we don’t want to be hit by them. When a train goes past on the track closest to us, we’ll have a few minutes to get you out into the tunnel and weave from side to side, avoiding them.”

He blinked, his jaw moving up and down with no words coming out.

“You can’t speak?” He shook his head as best he could. “It’s alright. When we get you home, everything will go back to normal.”

A train was not long in speeding by. I climbed down after it had gone and gestured for Falkor to come out. It was a struggle to get his front claws over the edge of the tunnel’s mouth but when he did, he was able to push himself forward, his long, snowy white body easily able to lay across both tracks.

“See this gap in the middle? Try to fit yourself on it.”

It wasn’t a wide gap but we made it work. There were large pillars all the way along so we had to nip around them, laying low whenever a train went by and then on again when the threat of being seen had past. Not for the first time was I grateful that everyone put their headphones on or had their eyes glued to the screens of their phones rather than looking out the window.

“We’ve got a ways to go.” I explained at the start of a long, sweeping curve. “But we’re getting there. Now, if I just…oh blast!”

My foot had slipped down between two railings. I tried pulling it out but despite the physical possibility of it getting stuck in the first place, it seemed that once it was there, the railings got a little closer together, preventing me from pulling my foot back out again.

“Hang on.” I muttered. “Just…give me a second. Oh come on…”

I pulled upwards. I could feel it shift a little. It was the shoe that was stuck and not my foot. I knelt and began to unlace it, hoping to free my foot and then my shoe.

Unfortunately this brilliant idea came a little too late. I could hear a train coming towards us on the side I was trapped in.

“Damn, damn, damn…” I hissed. “Come on.”

Fear and panic makes one stupid. My body was instantly coursing with adrenalin and the surge of energy that was supposed to be fuelling my flight response to fear, made my hands shake so bad I couldn’t get the laces undone.

I’d forgotten about Falkor.

I’d forgotten about everything except not being killed or having my leg torn off by a large metal snake.

“Come on!” I cried, straining as hard as I could, pain irrelevant as I faced the imminent possibility of losing a limb.

Suddenly giant claws wrapped around me, yanking me off the ground, pulling my foot effortlessly from its prison between the railings. Before I could even comprehend that I was free, I was twisted and jerked around so fast I felt like a rag doll. A train went screaming past us and when it was gone, Falkor wasted no time.

With me still in his claws, he began to fly, weaving around the pillars, his long body flexing to and fro. And then the train appeared, flying towards us, closing the gap within seconds. I didn’t even have the presence of mind to cry out. My mind was taken up with the alarming notion that Falkor would be seen. He wouldn’t be hit as he wove onto the other side of the tracks but there was no way he couldn’t be seen while flying.

A giant white dragon would make headlines, that’s for sure.

Then, faster than the oncoming train, a veil of darkness enveloped us. I could hear rushing, like the sound of a flock of birds flapping their wings yet it wasn’t just above us, it was all around. I could see nothing except the claws that grasped me, holding me firm and carrying me on. We wove around the pillars from side to side, dodging trains, cloaked in darkness.

And then, like we’d been shot from the barrel of a gun, we erupted out of the tunnel’s exit and from the embrace of the darkness. The shadow cleared from my eyes and I saw Weiss down below, skidding to a halt on the ground. She looked up, painted symbols on her face and her eyes, red like rubies. She swept her scythe through the air and knelt to the ground, light appearing all around her…and then she was gone, disappearing beneath a veneer of clouds.

“Wait!” I cried. “Falkor, we have to go back to Weiss! She knows where we need to go!”

Have you ever seen a dog throw a toy or ball up in the air only to catch it again?

That’s what Falkor did with me. One second I was in his grasp, the next I landed on his back and everything in between was a blur of sky and cloud. It was nice and broad, quite difficult to fall from. His back was shimmering with pearlescent scales and I might have struggled to keep from slipping back except my feet, one without a shoe on, were perched upon his foreleg shoulders like a rider’s boots would rest in a horse’s stirrups. My hands grasped his white mane, the soft fronds quite thick and gave me something to hang onto tightly. The incline of his head provided me with a bit of protection against the rush of cold air flowing over his body as it rippled through the air. His spine, it seemed, could roll up and down as well as from side to side. He didn’t have wings. He simply moved through the air as though it was water with the same grace and ease as a majestic fish. He didn’t fight the air. He was a part of it, streaking through the clouds, dancing with the breeze, flirting with the air currents…it was glorious.

So much so, that I completely forgot about redirecting Falkor back to the ground or the city.

We were above the clouds now, a light mist dotting my face with dew as we broke through the top layer, streaking across a sky that was already inky black and, because we had flown beyond the edge of the city, there were countless stars above our heads.

Falkor’s frantic speed slowed as though he, too, wanted to enjoy the journey. We drifted across the sky, stars above and sporadic lights below. The air was frigid and I was glad for my coat. My poor bare foot was freezing so I hooked it up, bracing myself with the other leg, rubbing at it.

And then, we were not alone.

I heard the whinny of a horse almost like a pulse through the air. I turned to the left and saw Weiss in her Valkyrie state flying towards us, the wings of her Pegasus beating the air strongly in order to keep up. Her helmet was down and when she looked at me, I saw no recognition, only a chilly resolve in her face.

Did she even recognise me in this state?

Then she held out my shoe.

I took it and smiled at her. She nodded then urged the horse forward, changing our heading.

On through the night we flew. I even grew so bold as to roll onto my back, still holding tight to Falkor’s mane, safe on his broad back, and watched the stars twinkle above. I felt tears trickle down my cheeks and brushed them away.

“A thousand daydreams have suddenly come true.” I whispered. “Falkor…I dreamed of this...” He bobbed his head and I twisted back over, planting my heels on his shoulders. I leaned down the side and his eye, which was a dark, rich red, winked at me. At least, I think he winked. It was hard to say for sure as I could only see one eye from my precarious perch. I buried my head in his mane and breathed in the smell of my childhood, long life milk and choc chip biscuits.

The flight lasted quite a while but it was still night when Weiss began to descend and Falkor followed her. I watched as she landed on top of a large, black expanse, her Pegasus stamping its hooves, folding its wings and tossing its head. Falkor slowed and landed smoothly. I was reluctant to get off, having enjoyed every single second. The ground was hard and unyielding beneath my feet. I snuggled against Falkor briefly.

“Thank you.” I whispered. “Thank you for a moment I will never forget.”

He rubbed his head against me, returning the embrace as best he could.

“Sam,” I looked at Weiss who had removed her helmet, her face appearing beneath and her eyes returning to normal, “have you the book?”

“Yes.” I drew it out and opened it. “But…if he cannot speak, how will we find out when he came from?”

“The reference card for Falkor?”

“Oh.” I slid the card out, holding on tight to it in case the breeze that was blowing, tore it from my grasp. “Falkor appearances in ‘The Neverending Story’. When he’s trapped by Yg…Yg…gramul?”

Weiss looked Falkor in the eye. “Is that where you’re from?”

He shook his head mutely.

“When you meet Atreyu?” I read. Falkor again shook his head. I moved through the appearances of Falkor in the book. When I read about Atreyu falling from Falkor’s back in the hurricane caused by the Wind Giants war game, his head jerked up excitedly but he didn’t nod. “Then?” He shook his head. I looked at the next line on the card. “When you’re looking for Atreyu?”

He nodded madly. I flicked through the book and found the page number the reference card had listed next to it. I handed it to Weiss. She shook her head.

“This is your moment.” She said.

A thrill ran through me. “Seriously?” I asked. “I get to do this?”

“Yes. Stand here and read with conviction.”

I took up position on the flattish rocky surface. I thought I’d need my phone to read the words but the sky was full of stars and the moon was out, shinning far brighter than the light pollution ever let it over the city that I lived in. I could actually read the words on the page with almost perfect clarity.

“In the endless sky, somewhere above the roaring waves, Falkor’s voice rang out like a great bronze bell: ‘Atreyu! Where are you, Atreyu!’ The Wind Giants had long finished their war game and had stormed apart. They would meet again in this or some other place, to continue their battle as they had done since time immemorial. They had already forgotten the white dragon and his little rider, for they remembered nothing and knew nothing except their own enormous power.”

Nothing was happening. I glanced at Weiss who nodded at me encouragingly.

“When Atreyu fell, Falkor tried to reach him and catch him. But a sudden whirlwind had driven the dragon upward and far away. When he returned, the Wind Giants were raging over another part of the sea. Falkor tried desperately to find the place where Atreyu had fallen, but even a white luckdragon can’t possibly find anything as tiny as a little boy in the seething foam of an angry ocean.”

My skin prickled as light flashed onto the page. I looked up and saw a tear forming. I opened my mouth to speak but felt Weiss’ hand on my shoulder. She shook her head at me, putting a finger to my lips. I nodded and then, at her silent urging, turned my attention back to the page.

“But Falkor wouldn’t give up. He flew high into the air to get a better view, then he skimmed the waves or flew in larger and larger circles, all the while calling Atreyu by name.”

I peeked at the tear. It was ripping steadily, the edges of it pulled apart by invisible hands, much like Clark Kent would do to his business suit, exposing his Superman costume beneath. Falkor’s head lifted up and his eyes sparkled.

“Being a luckdragon, he never doubted for a moment that everything would come out all right in the end. And his mighty voice resounded amidst the roaring of the waves: ‘Atreyu! Atreyu, where are you?’”

The tear was enormous, hanging in the sky just beyond the edge of the rocky outcrop we were on. Through the tear I could see a stormy sky and could smell the salt of the waves. Next to me, Falkor lifted himself up off the ground. He bowed his head to Weiss who gave him a solemn bow in return. He looked at me and winked and my heart surged. I felt that to speak would be to cheapen the moment so I mouthed ‘thank you’ at him.

His ruby eyes twinkled as he turned his head to the tear and his great white, long body thrust forward, easily fitting through the tear, flying out into the stormy weather.

I didn’t really want to close the book but saw Weiss gesturing to do as much.

I do so, slowly and as the tear began to close, I heard the voice of Falkor for the first time.

“Atreyu! Where are you?!”

Then the tear closed and in the aftermath of such bright light, the stars and moon respectfully took their time reappearing in the sky.

“Well done, Sam.” Weiss said firmly.

“Thanks.” I sniffed. “Does he know? That he finds Atreyu?”

“In Falkor’s mind there was never any doubt and he would look until his last breath.”

I put the reference card back into the book and zipped it securely within my jacket. “That was a massive tear. I don’t suppose that has anything to do with a latent gift I possess for the tearing of reality?”

I confess, I was fishing for a compliment.

“The tearing of the fabric of reality has nothing to do with you.”

So much for my fishing trip.

“Then why is it so big here?”

“Because this place is iconic for dreamtime, for storytelling, for wonder and history.” Weiss said softly. “The air is thick with meaning and whispers, stories that have been told over and over for hundreds and hundreds of years.”

“I see.” I shivered. “Um…how do we, well, I, get home?” I looked around. Weiss’ Pegasus had vanished. “If we are where I think we are, I’ll never get home by morning.”

“I will take you home.” Weiss assured me, flicking her helmet down, her eyes blazing blue through the slits. She whistled, grabbed me by the scruff of my coat, sprinted to the edge and leapt off the rock, taking me with her. I let out a scream of fright even as the Pegasus materialised beneath us, pumping its wings, catching us effortlessly and ascending into the sky.

I held on tightly, the air terribly cold. The Pegasus wasn’t warm like Falkor had been and the air in the hours before dawn was frigid. I could almost feel ice forming on my cheeks. However, the Pegasus was going a great deal faster than the luckdragon had gone. I don’t know if Falkor had decided to go at a slower, more leisurely pace or if the Pegasus had the ability to go at the velocity of a speeding bullet. Falkor had swum in the air, as easily and fluidically as a fish or an eel would. The Pegasus was almost attacking it, its hooves striking the air, small blasts, like it was hitting ice that cracked, appearing and disappearing. Its wings worked hard as well, propelling us forward so fast the wind became like knives against my face and I wiped at my skin, concerned I was being cut to ribbons.

However, despite its concord pace, the Pegasus could not beat the rising of the sun. I could see the sky lightening, the inky black above us shifting into a dark royal blue hue, the stars disappearing, retreating from the harshness of the sun’s rays.

Cloud cover made it nearly impossible to see ahead. Weiss pulled the Pegasus’ head up and it climbed, bursting out of the top of the clouds. It ran along them as if they were as solid as a road, leaping over gaps that exposed land below. Finally we reached the edge of the cloud cluster only to see the city laid out ahead of us.

“That’s a problem.” My teeth chatted, feeling a strong wind in my face. “There’s no cloud cover and the breeze is blowing it behind us. We’ll never get down without being seen.”

Weiss, who had somehow been perched on the back of the Pegasus, giving me the security of having my legs in front of its strong shoulders and wings, tapped me on the shoulder and indicated I should hold tight to the Pegasus’ short mane.

“What are you going to…”

And then she jumped up into the sky, spinning as she went, lighter than air. I went to cry out when the Pegasus reared on its back legs and pumped its wings, which had a span that would rival many airplanes. The result was a gale of wind pulsing from its feathers, thrusting the clouds forward on and on, changing the direction of the wind to blow towards the city and down to the ground.

The Pegasus whinnied and I swear I could almost hear it scream a war cry as it charged forward, eating up the distance towards what was now the edge of the cloud plateau.

“Wait, wait, wait!!!” I cried. “I’m not the Man from Snowy River!”

Weiss’ gloved hand grabbed my scruff, lifting me into the air and dropped me scant centimetres from where I was, my legs now straddling the Pegasus behind its shoulders. As we reached the lip of the clouds, she straddled its shoulders, my arms immediately wrapping around her waist and the Pegasus began to descend just like the rider who had chased the herd of wild brumbies down the impossible mountain decline.

In school, my class had been assigned the poem and performance of ‘The Man from Snowy River’. Rather than have us all attempt to read it as one or putting the pressure on one of my classmates to read it all themselves, the teacher had us memorise a section each. I swatted madly the night before, got through it with only a single stumble and had promptly forgotten the words for years.

However, as we descended, I could hear those words clearly in my mind.

‘He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,

He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,

And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat –

It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.’

Now, I had never been on a horse in my life. Heck, I’d never even ridden a motorbike (not because I was scared but because my mum would kill me). If I had been at the front of the Pegasus, tightly gripping its mane or not, I would have gone over its head or tumbled from its side.

Weiss was immoveable. It was as though she was part of the Pegasus and I held onto her tightly.

The Pegasus leapt from cloud to cloud as though they were clumps of rock, galloping down the rolling mist that swept across the city, blinding it within minutes.

It was the most terrifying ten minutes of my life. Every moment felt like it was going to be my last.

It wasn’t until I felt the strike of concrete beneath its hooves, the hard clatter that told me blessed earth was a six foot drop away, that I began to think I would actually survive the ride.

“You can open your eyes now.”

They flicked open and I saw E.J. standing nearby, smiling smugly. The Pegasus had landed not far from the train station’s mouth. Bluey was hovering near the entrance, unphased by the sight of Weiss in Valkyrie form on top of a Pegasus. How she had found the station in the midst of the giant metropolis, I would never know. I slid from the back of the Pegasus, cold, numb and promptly collapsed on the ground.

“Not the most dignified of arrivals.” I couldn’t snap back at him. My teeth were chattering too hard. E.J. looked up at Weiss. “I take it the unusual weather pattern was your doing?”

Weiss dismounted and lightly dropped on the ground. She flicked up her helmet and the Pegasus dissolved into sparkles of light. Weiss’ normal eyes looked at E.J. humourlessly.

“Would you have preferred our descent to be seen by all?” She knelt, the circle of light bursting around her and she put her bow back into the shimmering expanse then stood up, the light drifting away as brilliantly and instantly as a firework’s sparks.

“No but I can’t really say your alternative was subtle.” He grinned. “Falkor is back in his book?”

“Safe and sound.” I said, shivering as I got to my feet and then I yawned, starting off a chain reaction of yawns.

“Time for us all to go home and get some sleep.” E.J. said firmly. “I’ll drive you Sam. I guess I’ll see you when I see you, Weiss?”

She pressed her lips together and glanced down the tunnel that disappeared into darkness. Her expression was conflicted as her eyes rested on Bluey.

“Time for you to go home, Angel.” He said.

“I think I am ready to stay up top again.” She said quietly.

Bluey didn’t look surprised. He nodded as if he was expecting her to say as much.

“Of course, you are. You’ve still got work to do.”

“I will visit.”

He nodded and ambled away, his legs shuffling into the dark of the tunnel. Weiss watched him go then walked to the car and sat on the seat quietly. I slid into the backseat and let E.J. drive me home. I was cold, tired and starving by the time I climbed the stairs and turned to the right, heading for my flat. There was someone kneeling at the door, doing something to the doorknob.

“Hey!” I cried out as best I could muster in my exhausted stupor.

They looked at me and I saw the emblem on their jacket. It was a police officer. My blood ran cold.

“Mum?” I called then pushed past him to dash down the corridor of our little flat to find mum standing in the lounge room, looking bewildered and holding her life together out of strength of will the same way she was clutching at her coffee cup, flanked by a policeman with his hat tucked beneath his arm.

“Sam!” She cried and hugged me. “Thank goodness! You’ve been out all night. I’ve been worried.”

“I’m sorry. I sent a message.”

“I know but when I found the flat like this and you weren’t home…” She waved her hand around at the room and I could see that it was in disarray.

“Mum, what happened?”

“I was just telling Constable Williams that I got in from a night shift at a little after four, walked in and found our flat like this…” She looked bewildered and dark beneath the eyes. I put my arm around her shoulders. “They moved furniture, threw things about, rifled the kitchen cupboards…”

“What did they take?”

“Nothing.”

I paused. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Well,” she shrugged, “when I realised what had happened I went to wake you but you weren’t here so I called the police and they’ve been asking about your room…”

“Your mother could not say for certain that anything was taken.” Constable Williams finished firmly. “I’d like you to have a look for me please.”

I pushed the door open, anxiously anticipating chaos and destruction.

The room looked reasonably tidy. Mum had been in, probably yesterday afternoon, and put a pile of folded clothes on my bed and, knowing her, tugged the doona straight and arranged the pillows neatly at the head of the bed. I stood in the doorway, looking around, Constable Williams behind me.

“What do you think, Sam?” He asked and I wondered if there was a part in police training that drilled officers in how to speak in that deep, authoritative voice that you felt compelled to obey. “Is anything different?”

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“Not really.” I said quietly. “Although…” I went to step in but Constable Williams stopped me and handed me a pair of gloves.

“We may need to dust for prints.” He explained.

I snapped them on and walked through my room, an observer rather than someone who knew this space back to front, inside and out. I was surprised to see my computer had not been stolen. Out of all the stuff in the house, it seemed the most logical to nick. I walked up to my desk and looked down at the chair.

“That’s not right…”

“What isn’t?”

“My chair. I never push it in to the desk.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I always get up and give it a shove that way,” I pointed to the small space at the far side of my bed that wasn’t big enough for anything really, “before leaving the room or going to bed. And when I sit down, I always have to drag it to the desk.”

I could tell Constable Williams was not overly convinced. It did seem a minor detail but I knew my habits. I always pushed it in that direction as I headed for the door or bed. Gingerly I pulled it out from the desk and looked at the keyboard and mouse.

“I’m not lefthanded.” I said, looking at the mouse on the wrong side of the computer. “I think someone was trying to use my computer…can I see how far they got?”

“As long as you’ve got your gloves on.”

I woke the computer up and immediately an array of error messages and question prompt messages appeared on the screen. I gave a sigh of relief.

“That looks complicated.” Williams remarked.

“It’s not really and, it’s actually reassuring.” I chuckled. “Whoever broke in tried to gain access to my computer but couldn’t get past the password. After three tries, it offers them the chance to change the password but only if they can prove they are me by answering questions properly.”

“Name of first pet?” Williams glanced at me. “Not exactly secret service security.”

“I never give the standard answers.” I explained. “For that question, my answer is blue. If the question was, what’s your favourite colour, I would answer, fish. Whoever tried to snoop through my computer couldn’t get through my basic security. They would have been better off stealing the whole unit, scanning the hard drive and then wiping it.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t really make sense.”

“You should count yourself fortunate.”

“Hmmm…” I turned on the spot, looking around the room. “I don’t…oh blast!”

“What?”

I looked at the space on my bedside where there was a gap…where the figure of Death riding the motorbike had been reverently placed. I poked around to see if I could spot it in case it had fallen but it was no good. It was gone.

“I had a statue, Death on a bike,” my heart sank, “it was a gift…and it was right there.”

“Death on a bike?” I found a picture of it on my phone and showed Constable Williams who raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little macabre.”

“Not if you know Death. It’s very appropriate.” I folded my arms. “Stealing that is just petty.”

“It is in line with the break-in.”

“How so?”

“Everything was messed up and tossed around. It was a malicious act to unsettle you.” Williams called in the fingerprint cop and pointed to the bedside, the door handle, and my computer. We left him to his work and sat in the lounge room. Williams flicked out his notepad. “Any ideas as to who would have done this?”

Lucas immediately popped into my head but I dismissed him almost right away. However, Williams saw my pause and guessed.

“What was the name that you just thought of?”

I sighed. “I had this friend, Lucas Perret in high school…”

“The Perret family. I know of them.”

No one in local law enforcement could be ignorant of them.

“He took a dislike to me recently and I did see him outside the flat a few days ago, maybe last week…” I saw Constable Williams writing this all down and immediately leapt to Lucas’ defence. “But it wouldn’t have been him.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because Lucas knows more about computers than I do. He’d have been able to bypass any of my security measures, as lame as they are really. And if he’d been stumped, he’d have done what I said, taken the hard drive, wiped it and sold it off. He certainly wouldn’t have taken a statue of Death over a computer he could sell anonymously to fund his drug addiction.”

“Still, it is good to know.”

“Yeah, but if you go after him, guilty or not, his whole family will start on us. All it took was a refusal to give him money for him to egg our front door.” I saw Williams write that down as well. “I’m not helping, am I?”

“We’ll conduct a door to door inquiry and the Perret family will be part of it. No accusation will be made.”

Clearly Constable Williams knew that to make enemies of, what were essentially, bullies in a housing estate, was to turn the world into a war zone. I hoped the Perret family would not retaliate regardless of a lack of accusation.

“Now, Sam, where were you last night?”

I blinked. “Me?” He nodded. “I was working.”

“Your mother said you work at a bookstore. Rather unusual hours.”

“I help out a private detective,” I explained, using the line E.J. had told me to use if I was ever queried about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, “and he helps out a group of homeless people. I was with him last night which is why I messaged my mum to say I wouldn’t make curfew.”

“This detective’s name?”

“E.J. Oh, Elton John…”

To Constable Williams credit, he didn’t flinch or even blink. Maybe he wasn’t a big music fan?

“His number?”

I told him and Williams stood and assured mum and myself that they would let us know if they had any leads on the fingerprinting. Then the fingerprint cop came out and said he needed exclusion prints which involved me and mum getting inky and pressing our fingers onto a page. Modern technology had yet to reach our local police station it seemed.

When they left I called E.J. and explained what had happened. He said he hadn’t been expecting me at work today and was helping Weiss to get settled in and he knew Constable Williams would call at some point. I spent the rest of the day sleeping and helping mum put the flat back into order. She was not her usual self, her sanctuary, violated. She didn’t even protest when I offered to pay for pizza so we didn’t have to think about cooking. Mum had never been big on takeaway food so I knew she was out of sorts when she agreed to the half hearted attempt to recreate Italy’s finest worldwide contribution…except of course, for spaghetti.

Every bump and creak had us jumpy for the next few days but eventually we started to settle down. E.J. showed up one day to ask how we were which was kind. Mum admitted she was still nervous about being in the flat and even more nervous leaving it. E.J., without being asked, got her a sliding bolt for the door and installed it. He also installed a little security camera in the corner of the lounge room, facing the corridor and front door.

“It’s an online feed. Just use the remote to switch it on when you leave. It’s like a guard dog…without the food bill and late night toilet walks.”

After this reassurance from E.J., mum was much more settled and I was very grateful.

When I went back to work, E.J. asked how she was doing.

“A lot better, thanks.” I sighed. “I’m still bummed about that statue. I said I’d look after it for Death.”

“And you did. It was the unscrupulous person who broke into your home that crossed the line, not you.”

While true, it did little to reassure me.

Weiss came out of her office with a book in her hand, putting her glasses on. I glanced at E.J. who shrugged with a smile on his face.

“Um…Weiss?” She looked at me from over the top of the glasses. “Why are you wearing those?” She paused. “You clearly don’t have a problem with your eyesight and if you’re trying to stop people from seeing you as you really are…me and E.J. are the only ones who do and we already know.”

She thought about this and then, making a conscious effort, she removed the glasses and put them down. “It is habit.” She admitted.

“Yeah, I thought as much.”

It was strange seeing her back in the shop again. Not that her presence was unusual in it. It was weird when she wasn’t there. But it was the stark contrast to who she had been and who she was now that was strange. I struggled to put my finger on it and so, when the opportunity came up to put someone back in their place, well, their book, I volunteered and visited Jean. She wasn’t in her room for once. It was the first warm day in a long time and she was sitting outside on a bench, soaking up the sunshine and the flowers that were lifting their heads, enjoying it as much as she was.

She admonished me for not visiting and I was able to fill her in on all that had happened.

“You’ve had quite a busy year.” She chuckled, sipping her tea. “My goodness, the things you’ll never be able to tell anyone.”

“Hmm…” I mused.

“What’s on your mind, Sam Baker?”

“It’s Weiss.”

“Oh?”

“I get that she wore glasses to cover up her eyes and her clothes look like she raided the homeless shelter bin even though she’s got a supermodel’s figure…but how did I not see who she was before? Is it just because I know who she is, as much as I can I suppose, and that’s why I can see that she’s a bit…”

“Ethereal?”

I nodded. Ethereal was the perfect word to describe her. “Yes…but only recently.”

“Sam,” Jean tapped the book I’d brought her, “if you left this book open on that lawn, what would happen?”

“It’d turn to paper mâché the moment it rained.”

“Imagine it’s endless days like today and you left the book outside.”

I thought about this. “I suppose the book would fade…the writing on the pages would get lighter and the pages themselves would go yellow and brittle.”

“I can only surmise that this is what happened to Weiss in our world. Month after month, year after year, hiding her true nature, fading in the sunshine and just blending in.”

“So you’ve noticed it?”

“I don’t see Weiss every day like you.” Jean explained, putting her cup down and tugging her fingerless gloves up. She had matching gloves to the scarf around her neck and looked very cosy even if she did smell of moth balls. “When I saw her after I’d given her the glasses to hide her eyes, which are quite striking, I noticed then that she looked…less.”

“Faded?”

“Not faded, not at that stage. I reasoned that it was because she was concealing her true figure and nature. But as the months went by I saw her hair go grey though she has not a single wrinkle on her face. Her skin began to pale and didn’t have a glow about it anymore. And her eyes dulled, like a katana turning into a butter knife.”

“And the transformation, awakening her power, blew the dust off?”

“I imagine so.” Jean sighed and looked at the garden. “It must be nice not to get old.”

“Weiss doesn’t age?”

“How old do you think she is?”

I opened my mouth to reply then realised that, because of her grey hair, thick glasses and old lady wardrobe, I had always assumed she was an older woman.

“I have no idea.” I huffed. “None. I mean, I might guess that she’s in her mid twenties…but she’s been in our world for over ten, possibly longer, years…then she would have been very young when she crossed over.”

“Weiss is the same age as when she fell out of her book and into our world.”

“She never ages?” Jean shook her head. “E.J.’s got a problem then…”

“How so?”

“He’s ageing and she’s not.” I shrugged. “He’s kind of crushing on her.”

“Crushing…is that what youth of today call love when they’re too immature to say the word?”

“It sounds a little…soppy.”

“Only if you say it soppily.”

“So they are?”

“Are what?”

I grimaced. “Are E.J. and Weiss in love?”

Jean smiled softly, blush filling her cheeks. “Of course they are, Sam.”

“But…they don’t act like it. I mean, they don’t act like a couple.”

“I doubt either one knows how the other feels.”

“It’s a bit obvious!”

“Look at it from their perspective.” Jean said, sitting up. “Weiss is a fictional character on the run from ‘I’m not allowed to tell you’ and her very existence in this world has short sheeted E.J.’s Agency prospects. E.J., on the other hand, loves her dearly but knows that she’s fictional and that she’s had a hard enough time adapting to our world, let alone becoming vulnerable enough to let down her guard with someone.”

“But she’s safe with E.J.”

“Have you ever seen Weiss in a state of being you could truly call safe?”

It was an interesting thought. E.J. had a restful, lounging manner about himself. Even when he was fictional character or creature hunting, he maintained an edge of calm confident that came across as almost flippant.

Weiss, on the other hand, always had her guard up. She never let on what was happening on the inside. The time she put her hand on mine in the tunnel when I promised to look after her bookstore was the closest she had ever come to human emotion.

I watched her now, in the bookstore, seeing her with new eyes.

I hadn’t exaggerated about her supermodel form. She was elegant but had done a great job of covering her figure up with baggy clothes. Her hair, once grey, was silvery white and though it was still tied in a bun, strands broke free to frame her face but instead of softening her expression, they sharpened it, each lock like a tiny blade. Without her glasses, her eyes, which I would call ice blue, were almost weapons themselves and her cheeks, no longer hidden by the frame of the glasses, were pale and arched beautifully.

It was Jai’s reaction that was the clincher. He hadn’t seen her transformation and he also hadn’t seen her in a long time so when he arrived with that week’s take and his jaw dropped and his eyes widened, I suddenly realised why Jean had told Weiss to wear her cast off glasses.

“Miss Weiss! What have you done to yourself?”

Weiss raised an eyebrow and I stifled the impulse to laugh. “I have done nothing.”

“You look incredible! I love what you’ve done to your hair!”

Weiss glanced at me, a little concerned. “I have a new hair tie…is it to this that you are referring?”

“That and the colour. Your hairdresser is to be commended.”

I had to intervene at that moment. I could see Weiss was about to bolt from the unrestrained attention of Jai Giri.

“So…anything new for us this week?” I said loudly.

“Ah…oh yes, a few sales…but I haven’t had a big influx of product lately…”

“I will rectify that in the next day or two.” Weiss assured him. “I was…away.”

“Everyone needs a holiday now and then.”

“Indeed…I shall calculate your cut.”

She walked away and I wanted to close Jai’s jaw so badly but let him figure out that he was gaping.

“Where did she go and what did she do to herself? A beauty and health clinic? She’s lost years and gained wow factor.”

“And you’re making her uncomfortable.” I pointed out.

“Right.” Jai cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you think she’d be interested in going on a date with me?”

“Pretty sure she’s got someone else in her sights.” I let him down gently.

Jai sighed and nodded. “Fair enough. If it ever goes sideways, you let me know, alright?”

“Will do.”

It took a couple of weeks before things were running exactly like they had done before the park incident. Weiss was back on her ‘shipping container’ auction kick and Jai had a big influx of product for him to sell. E.J.’s routine settled down as well although he often popped over, keeping an eye on his territory through his cracked tablet.

As for me? I entered reference card after reference card, endless data entry. I was making progress. Whenever I felt discouraged about how far I had to go, I always looked at how much I had already done.

And then Halloween struck.

Work late on Halloween? Sure, I’ve nothing better to do. No invitations to parties or social events. I’d love to stay behind and be the bookstore doorstop and not even get to go out and see what everyone was walking the streets dressed as.

I sighed, not even bothering to do any data entry. If I had to be there, guarding the door, I wasn’t about to kill myself and my overworked fingers on another twenty reference cards.

E.J. and Weiss had already admitted they didn’t think they needed someone at ‘Beyond The Page’ but on Halloween, with the mass of characters being portrayed, cosplayed, costumed and embodied, the chance of someone or something breaking through was a distinct possibility.

However, as it grew later and later and I was tucked away in the forgotten nook, far removed from any parties, trick or treaters or celebrations of any kind, I did wonder if it was a bit of a farce.

“I’m giving this ten more minutes and then I’m going home.” I muttered, glaring out of the bay window.

I only needed to wait three more.

There came a knock on the door and I looked up, expecting to see E.J. or Weiss standing out the front. Instead I saw three children. Immediately I felt bad. I had no lollies or chocolates to give them and I doubt the sandwich I made with all good intentions and then forgotten about still in the fridge after three weeks would be appropriate, let alone edible.

I unlocked the door and opened it. The children were dressed rather subduedly for Halloween. No costumes of super heroes or horror movie creatures or even of fantasy characters. Their outfits were well worn but neat. The eldest girl was in a floral dress with solid colour cuffs, belt and collar. She wore white socks and brown shoes, her dark brown hair resting in curls on her shoulders. Her little sister, I guessed as much, was a smaller version of her only she had pigtails and big, timid eyes. The eldest boy was in trousers, shirt and a woollen waistcoat. I had to give them points for authenticity. Whoever had put their costumes together had done so without the aid of cheap and nasty costumes.com. The children didn’t even have buckets for the lollies they would undoubtedly want to receive. The big orange plastic pumpkin carry bags would have ruined the look.

“Sorry, we’re closed.”

“Oh,” said the eldest boy with one of those ‘boarding school’ hairstyles, parted on the side and swept across and back from his face, giving him an open, honest expression, “but the note said to come here.”

“Note?” He handed it to me. It was one of E.J.’s badly printed flyers he had scattered around places like the cinema or the train station, even the warehouse, in case someone broke through and found it, seeking out ‘Beyond The Page’.

It read, ‘Lost? Displaced? Out of your world? We’re here to help. Seek us out at ‘Beyond The Page’ etc…

I looked at the three children and felt like a bit of an idiot. “So…you’re looking for a way home?” I asked.

“If you can help us.” The boy insisted. I got the feeling he was acting bolder than he felt but was putting on a brave front.

“I think I can. My name is Sam.”

“I’m Peter Pevensie. This is my sister Susan, my other sister…”

“Lucy.”

“How did you know my name?” Lucy asked, wide eyed and innocent.

“I’ve heard about you four…wait…”

Peter huffed and looked over his shoulder. “Come on Edmund!” He said in a masterful yet utterly condescending big brother manner.

Edmund, with hands stuck sullenly in his pockets, barely lifted his head as he scuffed his shoes and sloped towards us.

“You’d better come inside.” I urged them all in and shut the door. “Let me just call someone.” I pulled out my phone which preoccupied Edmund and Peter while Lucy and Susan looked around, awestruck, at the books on the shelves. “E.J.? Can you hear me?”

“Sam?”

“E.J., I’ve got some ‘guests’ who need to go home.”

“Benign?”

“Oh yes.” Surely I could handle four children. I saw Edmund snooping around near the switchboard. “Hey, leave it!” He put his hands back in his pockets and gave me a guilty glare. “Mostly.” I said back to E.J.

“Figure out where and when they’re from and if needs be, send them home.”

“By myself?”

“Weiss and I may be some time. We’ve got a lead on someone who may or may not be the genuine article of a wizard.”

“Albert’s not back is he? Check the pub.”

E.J. laughed. “No, not Albert. Do your best and if in doubt, send them home.”

“Can do.”

I hung up and looked at their expectant faces. “Okay, so I need to know what happened up until you left your world and stepped into ours.”

“We were hiding in the wardrobe.” Peter explained.

“From Mrs Macready.” Susan added.

“We were staying in Professor Kirke’s house, you see.” Peter continued.

“While the Germans bombed London.” Edmund added all too eagerly and made Lucy’s eyes well up with tears. It was hard to like him. He had quite a spiteful look about him. It didn’t help that Peter sent him another one of his ‘big brother’ glares which did nothing to lessen Edmund’s attitude and possibly encouraged it.

While I couldn’t remember the author off the top of my head, the four children hiding in a wardrobe was very familiar, thanks to a number of movies made on the books. With Weiss’ filing system it wasn’t hard to locate the right book and, after a brief flick through, I even found the right spot.

I wasn’t entirely sure about my prowess with the tear opening voice but after seeing Edmund was one of those children that picked up something without any intention of putting it back where it came from, I started to get rattled, imagining Weiss’ ire when she returned.

“Come on.” I called and walked them through the bookstore. “This way. I’ll get you home.”

“Do you have a wardrobe as well?” Lucy asked. “That’s how we got here. I thought the wardrobe just went to Narnia but perhaps it goes to many places.”

“Your wardrobe goes to Narnia,” I reassured her, “you weren’t meant to end up here at all. It’s a little…side track.”

They weren’t all that impressed at having to stand in the drain crossroads. Susan was quite vocal about getting her shoes muddy and squealed when Edmund talked about rats with glee.

“I’m glad I’m an only child right about now.” I muttered. “Right, here we go.”

I cleared my throat and held the book out. I decided to start from the end of the chapter before as they were already in the wardrobe at the start of the next one.

“‘Quick!’ said Peter, ‘there’s nowhere else,’ and flung open the wardrobe…”

“I say, is my name in your book?”

I stifled a groan. “Yes,” I said to him, “I need to complete this without interruption.”

“But how could we be in a book?” Susan demanded.

“Unless it’s a history book and we’re all long dead.” Edmund added, none to helpfully.

“Look, I have to read it aloud so that your world opens…now let me finish.” I breathed out and started from the next line.

“All four of them bundled inside it and sat there, panting, in the dark. Peter held the door closed but did not shut it; for, of course, he remembered, as every sensible person does, that you should never shut yourself up in a wardrobe.”

I saw Peter give a light preen at being described as sensible. Edmund rolled his eyes as I turned the page and began to read about how they waited in the dark for Mrs Macready to pass by their hiding place and how their air turned cold, the ground was wet and there were trees inside the wardrobe.

I was beginning to wonder if I’d messed it up, the tear took so long to form but when it did, it filled the intersection with light, revealing a wood beyond, blanketed with snow and the branches heavily laden. It was pristine and crisp and the sky that could be seen was such a dark blue it might as well be black. In the distance, yet still visible due to its light, was the most memorable lamppost ever to be recorded.

Lucy squealed and clapped her hands. “It’s Narnia!” She cried.

“Wait…” Peter shook his head. “That’s not Professor Kirke’s house.”

“It’s not even the wardrobe.” Susan insisted.

I really wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. It was hard to get the tear to open up in exactly the right spot. I felt rather relieved it had opened at all.

“It’s Narnia, I tell you.” Lucy huffed and folded her arms, frustrated that no one was listening to her.

“Yeah, it is. I can see the lamp…post…”

Peter and Susan turned two scathing eyes onto Edmund who looked as though he wanted to suck the words back in yet couldn’t do so.

“You despicable little sneak!” Peter barked, furious. “All the time pretending Lucy was lying about Narnia when you had been there as well!”

“Honestly Edmund, how could you?” Susan added, none too helpfully.

“Oh like you would have believed me anyhow?” Edmund retorted.

“We would have had a far better chance with you both telling the truth!”

Despite the many years between the time that the book was set in and my current time, sibling squabbles never seemed to date. I think they would have looked fairly similar even two thousand years ago to what I was witnessing. Peter bit Edmund’s head off with first born superiority, the kind that came from being told that he was in charge and responsible for them, fuelled by the guilt that he had not believed his little sister. Susan was high and mighty, lecturing Edmund on good Christian principles. Lucy looked on the verge of tears and Edmund’s face was darkening with anger.

Finally I slammed the book shut and the tear closed with finality.

“Shut up!” I roared and they were all silenced, surprised by the lack of light and my furious tone. I turned to them, one by one. “Peter, give it a rest. You’re only going to make your brother an enemy when all he needs is a friend. Susan,” I looked at her, “ministers have got nothing on you lecturing someone about moral living. Good grief, be a little kinder, would you? Edmund,” I turned to him and the corners of his mouth turned down, “you have already screwed up big time but a bad decision doesn’t become a good decision the longer you keep at it. Lucy,” I knelt down to look her in the eyes, “you were right about Narnia, about Mr Tumnus and everything. Not everyone is going to believe you when you tell the truth…but that doesn’t make it untrue. Hold fast to what you know to be true.” She nodded with a smile. I stood up straight, the other three heartily admonished and quiet. “Now, I am going to do this again and you are going to all, without a word to each other, march through that tear and go on the best, biggest, most remarkable adventure ever.”

They all nodded and clustered together. I began to read again, this time starting from a little further back. The tear, it seemed, needed a bit of a run up and this time, I got it almost in exactly the right spot. There was a little light in the wardrobe, creating silhouettes of the fur coats that hung inside. They climbed through, one by one and turned to face me. I waved and Lucy, face beaming, waved back.

For a moment there was a shimmer and suddenly, it was as though they could no longer see me. They became distracted by the presence of a snowy wood in the wardrobe and I closed the book firmly behind them.

When Weiss and E.J. came in an hour or so later, they looked around expectantly.

“We got ours,” E.J. said, “where’s yours?”

“Home.”

“On your own?” I nodded. “Well done.”

“Where’s yours?”

“He declined to come.”

“I guess I’m visiting Jean in the morning?”

“Afraid so.”

I sighed. “Fine.” Weiss entered a book number into the switchboard and a book whizzed down from above even as she found the reference card needed to put the wizard back in his place. I slipped the card inside the cover of the book and held onto it tightly. “Is that it?”

“I doubt it but you’ve got studies to get to.” E.J. said firmly. “We can handle it from here.”

“I won’t argue with that.” I nodded and headed for the door. “Once Halloween’s over, I guess the next big thing will be Christmas.”

“What’s big about that?”

“A whole bunch of people reading their Bibles and out pops a whole bunch of disciples or even Jesus…” I looked at their faces. “Don’t tell me he’s never made an appearance.”

E.J. and Weiss glanced at each other. “Sometimes you seem to know what we do here,” E.J. shook his head, “and other times…”

“What?”

“Fictional characters, Sam.” Weiss said sharply.

I stared at them. “Are you serious? You’re telling me that the Bible actually happened?”

“Historically, yes.” E.J. chuckled. “Regardless whether or not you ascribe to the faith portion of the text, and quite frankly your unbelief defies belief after all you’ve seen in the last nine months, Jesus is not a fictional character. We deal with tears between the fabric of reality and fantasy…not time travel.”

“Oh…then there goes my hope of manufacturing the second coming as a gift for my mum.” I joked lamely.

“Get her a book and put a voucher in it for a shop that she loves but never justifies spending money at.” E.J. advised.

“Almost as good as the second coming, I guess.”

The day after Halloween was a mad scramble by the department stores to flog off all their spooky wares and costumes at less than half price. They had to make way for the influx of Christmas product. Kids were still high from the obscene amount of lollies they’d eaten from their trick or treating when Santa shaped chocolates, lollies and candy canes were loaded onto the shelves.

Mum had a firm belief about Christmas. Tree up on the first of December, down on the thirty first of December and lots of Christmas carol music playing. It did mean that on the thirtieth of November I was digging through the top of her wardrobe, looking for the tree amidst all the three year old wrapping paper, decorations and boxes of kept Christmas cards. It was one of those spiral trees that you grab by the top, shook it out and suddenly, there was a tree, complete with led lights already on it. I think she would have loved a traditional tree but we didn’t have the space for it.

As I lugged the box of decorations into the lounge room where mum sat with her dusting cloth, my wrist buzzed. I’d bought myself a smart watch for Christmas and then couldn’t wait to start using it. I glanced at it, seeing a glimpse of a text message come through from E.J.

“Sam…can I ask a favour?”

I found my phone and called him, talking for a minute before I hung up and looked at mum. “E.J. has the flu.”

“Man flu, you mean?” She winked.

“It was man flu a week ago. Now it’s, at the brink of death, flu. He even went to the doctor yesterday who said he’s got a chest infection and needs to rest.”

“And he needs you to fill in for him somewhere?”

“Yeah, he does.” I looked at the unopened box of decorations. “Do you mind if I go?”

She pretended to look worried then laughed. “Sam, I think I can dust a few nativity scene pieces. I’ve got just a little experience cleaning.”

“Thanks mum.” I kissed her on the forehead. “Bolt the door behind me. I’ll let you know if I’m going to be late.”

In fairness to E.J., I think if he could stand, he wouldn’t have called me but when I saw him curled up in his chair, surrounded by a sea of tissues and several half drunk cups of tea, it was clear he was not up for anything.

“Hey old man,” I greeted to which E.J. barely nodded, “want me to find you some chicken soup?”

He shook his head, sniffing. “Everything tastes like cardboard…mouldy cardboard. I’ve got antibiotics and last night they knocked me out. They’ll probably do the same tonight.”

“But you need me to go to the warehouse district?”

“Both of you.” E.J. coughed.

“Why both?” I shrugged. “Weiss could handle something like this on her own…unless you know there’s a dangerous interloper lurking about in which case, Weiss could still totally handle this on her own.”

“She’s not as tough as she looks.”

“She’s not exactly a damsel in distress, either.” I retorted. “What could I possibly offer in the moment when she’s doing her Valkyrie bit? Colourful and amusing commentary?”

E.J. coughed again and it was so violent, I thought he might bring up a portion of lung. He rested back in his chair, catching his breath. “I just need someone to keep an eye on her.”

I eyed him. “Don’t you trust her?”

“Weiss would leap into the belly of the beast. I trust her to do what is necessary. I need someone with her to keep her from killing herself in the process.”

“She’d just go back to her book.” I shrugged. E.J.’s face, already pale, whitened. “One of these days you’re telling me the full story.”

“When I’ve got a voice to tell it with.” He croaked.

“Sam, the taxi is here.” Weiss appeared in the doorway.

I picked up E.J.’s fictional character and creature incursion survival duffle, slung it over my shoulder and followed Weiss out the door and into the taxi. She gave the address and we sat in silence on the way to the warehouse district. Wisely, Weiss had told the taxi driver a house location nearby as it would have looked odd, the two of us going into a fenced off area. She unlocked the gates and shut them behind us.

The abandoned warehouse district lay before us.

“Where do we start?” I asked.

“E.J. has built blockades to keep any underground incursions from getting out except through an exit in the largest warehouse. We will search there first.”

“And he’s sure something or someone is in there?”

“Yes, although it could just have been a trespasser and only requires scaring off.”

“You’re not going to go all Valkyrie or the spectre of Death on them, are you?”

She looked at me and I marvelled that, even without her glasses, she still managed to give a glare worthy of an English boarding school headmaster.

“You seem to take my…states, quite casually.”

“You do remember I ran away from you initially?”

“Yes, but you do not seem to ascribe to the awe that E.J. has of them.”

I shrugged. “I guess I don’t really understand them. So far, I have no idea what book you come out of.”

Weiss turned her head forward and we walked in silence to the main warehouse. My watch buzzed and I kicked myself for not having taken it off. It wouldn’t survive a dunking in sewer water. I removed it from my wrist, glancing at the watch face even as I opened the seal of a plastic bag E.J. kept for just such occasions.

“I have something that belongs to you.”

I paused, the number unknown to me. As I frowned, another message popped up.

“Can Sam come out to play?”

“What is it?” Weiss asked.

“Spam or some prank texter.” I shrugged and sealed the watch in the bag, shoving it deep in my pocket and handing Weiss a torch. “Come in from two different angles?”

“I will take the far side and you take this entrance. We will meet in the middle.”

“Will you do your thing,” I gestured to her, “beforehand?”

“If it is a human trespasser, I would only give myself away.”

“Good point.” I gave Weiss a minute to walk to the other side of the warehouse before unlocking the door and going inside.

It wasn’t a particularly interesting warehouse. There were a series of smaller rooms at my end where, I guessed, managers and supervisors would have had their offices or there might have been rows of filing cabinets for all the outdated paperwork to be stored in for the seven years they were legally required to hang onto it. A few scattered papers, random electrical cabling and broken glass were all that were in the rooms. As I checked each one, I shut the door behind me, flicking my torch around.

The main portion of the warehouse was unlined, two stories high with a gabled roof, exposed metal rafters hosting a dozen nests and shimmering spiderwebs. In the floor on my side of the warehouse was a drain. E.J. had removed the cover and broken it open with a jack hammer so that, should something need to climb up and out, they had ample space to do so. Perhaps it would have been easier to keep them trapped below but I guessed the drains were harder to police and would have required far more cameras to monitor all the tunnels. In the warehouse, three cameras were all that were needed. Two facing the door exits and one pointed at the big, empty space in the middle.

You could have played football in the manmade cavern. There would have been room for the entire field to be laid out, spectator stands on the sides and ‘first class’ seating on a higher level at Weiss’ end that didn’t seem to have any practical purpose at all.

I could see Weiss’ torch dancing across the haze in the enormous room even though I couldn’t see her. It wasn’t a mist obscuring her from my sight. It wasn’t smoke either. I thought it might be dust in the air and the light from the broken panels in the roof where the moon was shining through was illuminating it, refracting across its hazy veneer.

I met up with Weiss in the middle. “My end was clear.”

“I saw nothing.” She looked around.

“Maybe it was a rat or bird going across the camera.” I shrugged. “Maybe…what’s that?”

“What is what?” Weiss asked.

“I thought I heard music.” I turned around on the spot, my torch sweeping through the haze.

“One of your electronic devices?”

“Maybe…”

When we both fell silent I knew we had both heard the notes, a little like a child’s wind up toy that they would fall asleep to. But the notes were off somehow, discordant and out of time with the melody. Despite the way it had been distorted, there was still something very familiar about the music. I edged in the direction of the music, knowing there was no way it could be my watch or phone.

“Is that it?”

Weiss turned in the direction I was facing, the light of both of our torches cutting through the haze to illuminate a rectangular box that rested on the ground with its lid up. Slowly we walked towards it, the music continuing to play however, the winding mechanism was reaching its end and the music grew slower, flatter and each note was plunked rather than a pleasant ‘ting’.

I squatted in front of it, seeing the winding mechanism inside grinding painfully, one awful note at a time, the melody dying before me. I looked around it and then picked it up carefully and peered underneath it. I could see scratches where someone had removed the base to mess around with the inside but apart from that, it was a very ordinary, almost plain, music box.

I turned to Weiss who was as puzzled as I was. It was then that I realised the haze had thickened, no longer a transparent veil but an opaque fog, that was swirling around our legs. I opened my mouth but a voice, a lyrically, flat, almost whispering voice, began to speak.

“Adele Weiss…Adele Weiss…”

Weiss’ eyes widened and veins appeared in her neck as her whole body tensed. “We must go.” She whispered.

If Weiss was alarmed, I was even more so. Without question I headed towards the end of the warehouse where the fog wasn’t nearly as thick. Weiss was moving quite quickly, looking over her shoulder. I was looking in front and grabbed her arm, catching a glimpse of a silhouette walking towards us.

“Look.” I hissed.

“Adele Weiss…Adeleweiss…”

My hand was shaking but for once, I wasn’t running.

Maybe I was finally developing a backbone.

“Adeleweiss…time to come out and play…”

Out of the shadows emerged Lucas. For a split second I felt relieved but it was well and truly overtaken by horror. His head was angled strangely, his eyes not looking at us at all. His hair was lank and messy and he walked with a limp, his gait shuffling as though he was partially paralysed down one side.

My skin crawled as, every time he took a step, a cloud of fog erupted from beneath his foot, filling the air and hiding the exits.

“Weiss…” I gasped then Lucas looked up.

His eyes were milky white as though he was blind and there was a welt across his cheek that was red and raw.

“Time to play…”

The shriek inside of me ripped out as Lucas got within six feet…and collapsed, sending out a shockwave of air that pushed aside all the fog, revealing his form crumpled on the ground. I hesitated then, forcing myself to move forward, I approached his body. As soon as I got a little closer I heard him whimper.

“Help…me…”

“Lucas!” I cried, dashing to his side and kneeling down. “Lucas, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?”

“Sam?” He coughed and blood spat out of his mouth. He flailed his arms towards me, weeping sores across his skin almost as if his body was struggling to hold itself together. “Sam…I can’t see you! Where are you?”

“I’m here. I’ll get you to a hospital. Weiss!” I looked up, imagining that a Valkyrie warrior could easily outpace an ambulance. “Where are you going?”

Weiss was backing off, shaking her head, her eyes wide and wild.

“Weiss! Lucas needs help!”

But she was gone, fleeing into the darkness.

“Weiss!” I swore, tearing the plastic bag my watch was in and hitting the emergency services number. “I need help. My friend has collapsed and I think he’s dying. Hurry!”

It took about twenty minutes for the ambulance to arrive. Twenty long agonising minutes listening to Lucas whimper and groan, his body trembling in shock.

I could do nothing.

The lady on the other end of the emergency services line encouraged me that I was doing all I could and gave me updates on the ambulance. She asked questions as to what happened to him.

What could I say? I didn’t fully understand it myself.

I could only tell them the truth, that I had encountered him in the warehouse and he collapsed.

Lucas went to the hospital in the ambulance, lights flashing and siren screaming. I followed in a police car, the constable trying to pry more knowledge out of me than I had to offer.

“I don’t know. I saw him there and he collapsed.”

“It looks like an overdose. Can you give me any idea what he might have taken?”

No, no ideas.

“Were you with anyone else?”

My anger surged at that question.

I was but I might as well have been alone.

Weiss had abandoned us, taken off and left Lucas to die.

I was more than angry. I was livid.

At the hospital Lucas was rushed into emergency and I heard the words ‘stomach pump’ and ‘overdose’ used. The constable who had picked me up kept an eye on me as if I was some kind of deviant. Then the nurse arrived and insisted on taking blood.

“Why my blood?”

“It looks like your friend has been poisoned through his drug habit. We need to make sure you are not in any danger.”

“You mean, you think I’ve taken drugs or you think I supplied them to him?” I fired up, angry at Weiss but mouthing off at anyone that even looked at me the wrong way.

“It’s standard procedure.”

“No it’s not!” I yelled. “Finding your friend in a convulsive, bloodied state is not standard! Nothing about this is standard!”

“I’m going to have to ask you to calm down.”

It was hard not to snap at the officer some more so I concentrated on my watch and let mum know what was happening.

Then she spent some of her precious income on a taxi to come to the hospital.

“Sam,” she flung her arms around me, “good gracious, what happened?” I explained it to her just as I had done to the constable. “And he just happened to be where E.J. had sent you?”

I looked at her, aghast. “You don’t believe me?”

Her expression was conflicted. “Sam, you’ve developed a habit of being out late recently and not letting me know and then there was the break in…”

“That’s got nothing to do with what happened tonight!”

“Sam Baker?” Constable Williams arrived, relieving the other officer who looked relieved not to have to deal with the angry youth anymore. “You’re the one who called the ambulance?”

“Yes.” I huffed. “I rocked up at the warehouse, Lucas approached me, he collapsed, I rang the ambulance…and I’ve told this story I don’t know how many times.”

“Then you will tell it until you realise that it doesn’t exactly make sense. After all, this is the one person you thought might have broken into your flat and stolen from you.”

“I also said that Lucas wouldn’t do that. He’d have taken the computer.”

“The coincidence still needs explaining. How did Lucas know you were going to be there? Did he want you to come out?”

I opened my mouth then paused. I pulled out my phone and unlocked it, opening up the last two messages I’d received.

“I got these,” I showed Constable Williams, “not long before I went in.”

Williams read the messages. “There’s no name attached.”

“I have Lucas’ name in my contacts.”

“But you still thought this anonymous message might be him? How did you know where to meet?”

“I didn’t.” I groaned. “I didn’t know. I was there. He was there…”

“Excuse me,” a nurse approached us, “we rushed the lab results for the drug test.”

Constable Williams glanced at it.

“Well?” Mum asked.

“Negative.”

She let out a big sigh of relief. I looked at her, furious.

“Oh no, don’t take my word for it.”

“Sam…”

I pulled away and paced the corridor. I couldn’t make head nor tails of the emotions in my body. I was distressed, angry, betrayed, confused, hurt and deeply worried about Lucas. Eventually I had to sit down and the only place was next to mum. I put my head in my hands and felt her hand on my back.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

I couldn’t muster forgiveness or even a vague ‘it’s alright’. My chest was so tight I wondered if my ribs would snap.

An hour later a doctor appeared. “The young man has been moved to ICU.”

“Will he live?” I asked.

“It is too early to tell. His body was flooded with a toxin we have yet to identify. There are signs of long term drug use and I would guess that the substance he was using was cut with a poison.”

I swallowed. “Can I see him?”

The doctor looked at Williams who nodded. “This way.”

I had to sanitise my hands and put a mask on before being allowed in the ward. Lucas was on a bed, hooked up to machines and as pale as death where he wasn’t covered in bandages.

I sank onto the chair provided, blood draining from my face.

“Lucas…” I whispered.

I sat in a daze, unable to think or feel, watching his thin chest rise and fall.

Only a few months ago, Lucas had been the last person I would have called friend.

Now, I wished I’d been a better friend to him…although I doubt he wanted me as one.

“Sam?” I looked up and saw James standing by my shoulder. “What happened?”

I broke down. I couldn’t handle one more person asking me for answers when I had none. James didn’t judge my tears. He let me fall apart then insisted on getting me a sandwich and a cup of sweet tea.

“Constable Williams asked me some questions about Lucas when he found out I knew him.” James said quietly. “I doubt my story differed from yours at all. Was a friend whose drug use drove us apart over the years. I think you ought to know that the police have only just been able to contact his family. They’ll be here soon so unless you want to explain that you don’t know what happened when they demand answers, I’d head home.”

“Thanks James.” I said, my voice as hollow as a dead tree.

Mum was still waiting for me. I mumbled an apology for my behaviour and she apologised again for doubting me. Constable Williams drove us home and I crawled into bed at three in the morning.

I was exhausted but my mind wouldn’t let me go to sleep. It gnawed at me, teased me, drove me mad until I was wound up with unending anger.

And it all stemmed from the moment that I turned to ask Weiss for help…and she hadn’t been there.