It was strange being at work with no Weiss walking through with a book in her hand and a stern look in her eye. I felt like I was master of the world…well, a very tiny world that I really didn’t know how to manage in the same way as its creator. Still, I could sign for deliveries and Jai worked out his commission from any sales he made. When he heard that Weiss wasn’t there, he was a little alarmed.

“She’s not unwell is she?”

“She’s okay, just needing a break. So you mightn’t get any new stock for a while.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got plenty to be going on with. You tell her she’ll get a full and proper accounting when she gets back.”

“Thanks Jai.”

Jai paused in the doorway. “Hey Sam, I’m really glad she’s got you to look after this place. It means the world to her.”

That was for sure. And it wasn’t the same without her in it.

E.J. came over whenever he had the time although he was busy doing his usual rounds and going to the train station every day. He took the books that were delivered and Bluey would collect them and take them down to Weiss, bringing back any notes she made so I still received reference card information to put into the system. And because I’d made a promise to Weiss and felt somewhat responsible for ‘Beyond The Page’ in her absence, I worked just as hard as if she was standing by my shoulder…for the first couple of days. I did give myself permission to not hammer the keys of the keyboard so relentlessly, entering countless reference cards into the system. For the first time ever, I was grateful to my IT teacher who insisted on teaching us how to touch type, finding the centre keys and being able to type with passable accuracy without staring at the keyboard or using the two finger approach.

While I had cursed her as I walked out of the classroom, sure that no one could reach the level of accuracy that she wanted at the speed she was demanding, I found myself exceedingly grateful for her endless drilling. I could look at a reference card and type without too many mistakes. And as the days and, then as time would have it, weeks passed, my typing speed could do nothing but increase and I began to know when I made mistakes automatically. I hadn’t really considered that I was getting faster until E.J. commented on it one day as he came in with a flyer in his hand.

“I thought it was raining, those keys are clacking so fast.”

“It’s the mechanical keyboard.” I retorted. “Weiss requested an excellent one so Jai got a great keyboard…but not one with a quiet touch to it.”

“Still, if you’re in here on your own, you’re the only one who notices.”

“And I don’t even hear it most of the time.” I yawned. “Data entry…gosh it’s a chore.”

“How far along are you?” E.J. swept his hand towards the filing cabinets.

“I’ve entered every book.” I declared with a grin. “Every title that is on those shelves,” I pointed all around and up into the rafters, “is now in here.” I patted the computer. “And it can be accessed on any smart device because it’s online. Now it’s just all the creatures, their information, characters, their information…”

“Fantastic.” E.J. nodded. “So, can I make a request to jump the queue?”

“Sure?”

“Any characters that have anything to do with Terry Pratchett’s work.”

“Pratchett…Pratchett…” I searched the system and my eyes widened. “E.J…he’s written about a thousand books.”

“Over seventy, according to the flyer.” E.J. said, looking at the glossy paper in his hand. “Forty one of those are based in Discworld, a fantasy land he created.”

“What is that?”

He held it out to me. It was a brightly printed brochure about a tribute to Terry Pratchett happening in Gilbert Square.

“It’s a celebration that lines up with Pratchett’s last published work before he passed away. Quite honestly, I think fans of this remarkable author are just looking for any dates pertinent to his work to summon the populous together and celebrate his accomplishments. We tend to find that when an event like this is organised, more people are reading the books, dressing up, interest peaks…”

“Characters fall through…” I nodded. “You’re anticipating interlopers?”

“Just trying to be prepared in case we need to identify any characters as being dangerous or benign.”

“So you need every character accessible in the online system?”

“Yes.”

“When by?”

“Thursday night.”

My jaw dropped. It was two days away.

Now, you might think that was plenty of time to enter in all the information pertaining to characters, evil and benign, into the system…but then you clearly have never read a single one of Pratchett’s books. Quite frankly, I had never read one either but by the end of two days of frantic typing, I was very familiar with many of them. Some appeared only once while others cropped up in the most unexpected places. Some were regulars, consistently adding their part to make this bizarre and remarkable world all the more colourful.

My typing became so frantic that E.J. stopped calling it rain and started to look from smoke pouring out from beneath the keyboard, as I set the keys on fire. He recognised he’d set me a pretty enormous task and did his best to keep the reference cards coming that had any relevant data pertaining to Terry Pratchett while putting others away.

We entered the last detail about forty five minutes before close of shop hours.

I leaned back in my chair and moaned, my fingers aching.

“Well done, Sam.”

“Ouch…” Was all I could say, wiggling my fingers. “E.J…?”

“Mmm?” E.J. asked as he tucked the final reference cards back into their location with careful precision that Weiss would approve of.

“How likely is an incursion tonight?”

“It’s actually extremely likely but not necessarily our location. If a character crosses over into another territory, it’s not our problem.”

“Is the location of the celebration any indication?” I asked.

“It’s a bit of a worry that it’s only a couple of blocks from the abandoned cinema that we have under surveillance, not to mention all the tunnels beneath.”

I eyed him sharply. “You’re not going to be able to patrol all that on your own, you know.”

“I can manage.” E.J. insisted. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

“With Weiss’ help in case it gets out of hand.”

“She’s not ready to come up yet.”

“What if I help?” E.J. started shaking his head at me but I kept talking. “Look, you can’t keep doing this on your own. I’ll just be an extra pair of eyes in case someone does fall through which is not altogether likely and an extra body if you need me to be in one place while you check out another.” I tilted my head to look at him. “Just say yes to the help. You’re not as young as you used to be.”

“I could still run circles around you.” He retorted, half walking away, running his hands through his curly hair. He made a sound that was halfway between a relieved sigh and a disgruntled huff before turning back. “Okay, fine, I admit it. I could use the help.”

“Great.” I picked up the tablet. “Where do you want to start?”

We ended up going to the cinema first. E.J. said there was no point scouring the tunnels endlessly unless there was reason to. Besides, if Bluey was concerned, he would tell Weiss first who had been named the tunnel dweller’s protector.

It was a chilly night so I was relieved when we made the dash from the car straight to the cinema door. It wasn’t much warmer inside but at least there was no lazy wind laughing at my warm jacket. E.J had made sure I invested in something that would keep me warm even in the tunnels.

“You need to be prepared for any kind of conditions in this line of work.” He warned me. “A good coat will last you for years and years and save your life so that you can enjoy those years.”

“With that kind of sales pitch, you could sell these coats to people who live in the Sahara.” I muttered, forking over a substantial portion of pay on the coat.

Right now, however, I was very grateful for it. I’d even bought gloves and a beanie. I’d drawn the line at thermals for under my jeans but I was starting to regret that decision.

E.J. walked into the cinema, very comfortable and familiar with the surroundings. More so than I. Old leather seats, that would have been snapped up as vintage, had rats nesting in them. They tended to scatter when we walked into the large space that was the main auditorium but a few dedicated mothers would hiss and snarl at us, protecting their babies. I just shuddered and moved on, my torch swinging around into every dark corner.

And there were a lot of them.

“It was a theatre in its hay day.”

“Yeah…where movies were shown.” I said.

“No, I mean a theatre where people performed on the stage.” E.J. pointed to the wooden boards that rested at the front of the auditorium. “Not a legit, from the last century, theatre mind you. One that would have been customised from a previous building in the hopes of reviving the lost art of plays. Then the novelty wore off, maintenance increased and insurance skyrocketed. Finally, words and actors were cheaper on a screen, paying for the right to play the movie and not dozens of wages.”

“Wow grandpa, tell me more about the dark ages.” I poked into a corner timidly, coming away with spider webs on my hand. “Ugh…if the cinema was so much more economical, why did it close?”

“The multiplex was built across the highway and people wanted clean bathrooms, comfortable chairs and the option of a dozen movies and not just the one that this could show at a time.”

“Not to mention a sizeable snack bar.”

“I’ve never understood why people cannot rein in their appetite for the sake of a two hour film.” E.J. muttered. “I’ve heard more popcorn crunching than actual dialogue and sat in chewing gum all because someone thought they might starve.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. The last film you saw at the cinema was probably ‘Singing in the Rain’.”

“Don’t knock it. It was a good movie.”

“And I bet you remember all the lyrics.”

“Most.” E.J. opened a door. “I’m going up to the projection room. I’ll be back.”

“Alright.” I hoped he wouldn’t be long. Contrary to popular abandoned houses and the crawlers that insisted they were atmospheric, there was nothing appealing about the old cinema. Maybe in its hay day it had been something remarkable to behold…or at least traditional unlike the boxy cinemas in the multiplex with their ‘hygienically cleaned’ bathrooms. “Mind you, the bathrooms in the multiplex are flooded with blue light so that people can’t find their veins when shooting up.” I paused, having moved to the front of the auditorium where the stage began. “Who on earth am I talking to?”

ME?

A finger of ice ran up my spine as a voice echoed inside my brain. It wasn’t an audible sound. It didn’t pass through my ears but I felt it in my mind. I could barely move. I’m not even sure I blinked for the longest time before turning on my rigid legs that refused to budge and held a shaking hand up so that my quivering torch could illuminate a skeletal face surrounded by darkness, two blue sparks of light glowing in the black eye sockets, surrounded by pale white bone.

COWER BRIEF MORTAL.

I guess you can imagine what I did next.

Yep, I screamed and leapt backwards, falling onto my backside and scrambling as far as I could away from the terrifying figure who just stared at me. A row of chairs prevented my escape so I just held my torch so that the bright light illuminated the skeletal face.

It hadn’t moved. It just stood and stared at me without expression. Well, of course, a skull has no expression. All it can do is stare.

And man was it tall. He was a tall figure, at least seven foot high from his bony feet which I could see beneath his black robe, to the top of the hood that surrounded his white face. His left arm was tucked politely behind his back, his skeletal hand resting in the small of his back, or at least where it would have been if he’d had skin and muscle covering his bones. His right hand held onto a scythe that was easily a foot taller than his head, his fingers wrapped around its handle with a bony grip.

“Sam, what is…whoa!” E.J. yelped, skidding to a halt. “You’re a…big one.”

“Big?” I gasped. “That’s your best description of him? Big?”

E.J. cleared his throat and, with nerves of Superman strength, approached the robbed figure who watched us with his two sparks of blue light.

“Am I right in guessing that you are Death from the world of Discworld?”

The bony face shifted to look down at E.J.

YES.

E.J. nodded. “Right.”

YOU CAN SEE ME.

“Yes, we can.”

STRANGE. He leaned forward and down to look into E.J.’s face and quite possibly his soul. YOU ARE NOT CLOSE TO DEATH. He said and I felt as though he was a little confused. NOR ARE YOU DYING.

“Nor do I plan to be for quite some time.” E.J. breathed out. “Sir, I am afraid you are not in Discworld anymore.”

THIS IS NOT MY REALM EITHER.

“No sir. You’re in a different world, one where the normal rules of your…existence do not necessarily apply.” Death said nothing and just stared. E.J. glanced back to me. “My associate and I are in charge of escorting lost ones such as yourself back to your world.” Death’s lack of response and expression was enough to make E.J. doubt himself. “Do you understand?”

YES. THIS IS NOT MY WORLD NOR IS IT THE WORLD OF THE MORTALS OF DISCWORLD.

“And will you come with us willingly to where we can help you home?”

Death considered this. At least I think that’s what he was doing. It was like asking a statue if it wanted a cup of tea.

I SHALL. I HAVE BUSINESS IN DISCWORLD THAT CANNOT BE DELAYED.

“Of course, sir. We’ll get you home as soon as possible.” E.J. cleared his throat again and gestured. “If you will follow me…” He turned and, with a look at me that seemed to indicate that I should get to my feet and act in a manner befitting one of the Agency, walked to the door of the cinema that led to the outside.

I could see what was going to happen before it did and only got halfway through a warning shout.

“Look,” clang went the scythe on the doorframe, “out.”

Death bowed his height and made it through into the alley where E.J. had parked the car. He looked at it and then back at Death.

“This is a problem. You’ll never fit in there. You can’t make yourself smaller or sit in it with your body sticking through the roof?” Death reached out to the car, his bony fingers striking the metal. E.J. swore. “Why is it the convenient tricks are the ones that are lost in translation?” E.J. clucked his tongue and looked around as if another vehicle with a roof as high as a double decker bus would simply appear.

I SHALL SUMMON BINKY.

“What are you summoning?” I asked timidly.

Death turned with his unblinking gaze and just looked at me, or through me.

MY HORSE.

Despite the terror of the moment at confronting a creature as epic as death, I felt the urge to giggle.

“You called your horse, Binky?”

YES.

“Why?”

IT IS A NICE NAME.

Despite patiently waiting for his horse to appear, it seemed Binky had not had the consideration to fall through into our world along with its master.

“Sam, wait here with Death and I’ll see if I can’t figure something out.” E.J. ordered.

I stared at him, aghast. “You cannot be serious.”

“Have you got any idea bright ideas about how to fit him in there?” E.J. demanded and when I opened my mouth he countered before a sound was uttered. “With dignity I mean.” I clamped my lips shut and shook my head. E.J. shook his head. “Death is not an evil character. He’s just doing a job and gets a bad rap for it.”

“I’m sure I don’t know why.” I muttered.

“He doesn’t kill people.” E.J. insisted.

I SIMPLY COLLECT THEIR SOULS. Death added. IT IS MY JOB JUST AS THIS IS YOURS.

I felt a little confronted and gave E.J. a half confident nod. He hurried off to find transport to somehow move Death from the cinema to ‘Beyond The Page’.

Death just stared. He was like one of those portrait paintings where you think that the person’s eyes are following you around the room. I have always surmised that it was self-absorbed people who thought that, thinking that they were somehow the centre of the universe. Yet now, even though Death wasn’t actually looking directly at me, I almost felt as though his gaze was all encompassing, somehow able to see me and anything else around him.

A bit like a pigeon I guess.

WHERE IS HE?

“E.J. will be back soon.” I promised, hoping I wasn’t lying.

I AM SPEAKING OF ALBERT.

“Albert?”

PERHAPS YOU WOULD KNOW HIM AS THE ARCHCHANCELLOR OF THE UNSEEN UNIVERSITY.

“Um…not really…no…” I swallowed. “Is he a friend of yours?”

This question was largely ignored by Death who turned his skeletal head, scanning his environment.

HE WAS JUST BEHIND ME.

“Oh I see.” I did my best to sound confident and reassuring. “What’s happened is that you have fallen out of your world and into ours. Albert will be back in your world and none the wiser when you return.”

How could a character’s eyes, which were unblinking and in a face that showed no emotion, convey such scathing scorn?

ALBERT CAME WITH ME FROM OUR WORLD INTO YOURS.

I froze. “You mean, he’s here?” Death nodded, the hood created a dark backdrop for the white of his skull to contrast starkly against. “In our world.” He nodded again. “Where is he?”

I KNOW NOT. IT WAS HE, NOT I, THAT SURMISED THAT WE WERE NOT IN OUR WORLD ANYMORE.

“Is that relevant?”

Death turned his head, looking down the alley.

HE LEFT ME RATHER QUICKLY AFTER STATING THAT FACT.

“Damn, damn, damn.” I muttered. “So he’s not in the cinema?”

NOT IN THE BUILDING WHERE YOU SCREAMED.

Yes, thank you for that.

“Where would he go?”

I KNOW NOT.

“Don’t you know anything about him? Nothing that might tell us something about where he has gone?”

Death paused. It was hard to know, again, if he was thinking or if he had nothing rattling around in his skull.

I blinked then clicked my fingers, whipping out my phone. “Hold on a second…here we are.” I entered the password to gain access to the ‘Beyond The Page’ database and typed in ‘Albert’ with an advanced setting of ‘Pratchett’. “Okay, I have one Albert…actually it’s Alberto Malich. Is that him?”

YES.

I clicked on the link, thankful E.J. had me enter in all the Pratchett data that we had. “Okay, so Alberto Malich was the Archchancellor and founder of the Unseen University…he hoped to reverse death, ahem, avoid you I guess is what he meant to do but wound up taken to your realm and decided to stay to keep from dying…he’s your butler, cook…except he fries everything including porridge…blurgh…he came from a poor family, he’s a powerful wizard…” I felt the shadow of Death looming over me and looked up to see, quite literally, Death leaning down to look at the shining screen in my hand.

WHAT IS THIS MAGIC YOU POSSESS?

“Um…Wifi?”

Death seemed impressed…I think.

CONTINUE.

It was as hard to work with Death watching my every move as it was with Weiss. I tried not to tremble as I scrolled through the bullet point information.

“He, um…he doesn’t get on with your granddaughter Susan.” I paused and looked at Death. “You have a granddaughter.”

INDEED.

“Okay, fun family dinners.”

HER PARENTS ARE DEAD.

I swallowed through a tight throat.

I DID NOT TAKE THEIR LIVES.

“Good to know.” I squeaked and went back to my phone. “It says that Albert is quite fond of pork pies and glasses of cherry…” I looked at Death. “How fond of these things is he?”

IN A SINGLE NIGHT ALBERT DRANK ONE MILLION, EIGHT HUNDRED THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIX GLASSES OF CHERRY AND CONSUMED SIXTY EIGHT THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND NINTEEN PORK PIES AND ONE TURNIP…WHICH HE CLAIMED WAS PORK PIE SHAPED.

“Okay…” I felt sick just thinking about it. “He likes pies, alcohol and things that are fried…I think I know exactly where he is.”

I turned and hurried down the alley, heading for the main street that the abandoned cinema fronted onto. While it was bordered up and a bit of an eyesore, the rest of the street wasn’t nearly as bad. I did a quick search on my phone and found the closest pub.

“I reckon he’ll be in there.” I mused, seeing the pub if I craned my neck around. “Death…whoa!” He was right behind me, craning his own great height out into the view of the street. “What are you doing!”

I MUST FIND ALBERT.

“I will find Albert.” I promised. “You just…stay here.”

HOW WILL YOU KNOW WHO TO LOOK FOR?

I opened my mouth then groaned. The reference card did not actually give many physical details.

“I’m just going to have to manage somehow. Goodness knows why he took off when he did.”

ALBERT HAS NOT LONG TO LIVE IN OUR WORLD. 34 SECONDS TO BE PRECISE.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I blinked. “Really? So why isn’t he dead in the alley? Heck, he wouldn’t have made it out of the cinema.”

YOUR WORLD IS LIKE MINE. IT DOES NOT COUNT AGAINST HIS TIME.

“Well then that makes it easy to figure out, doesn’t it? I’m looking for a man who is celebrating because he’s going to live forever. Now just stay…”

Death simply walked out onto the pavement and then, without looking left or right, onto the road. I yelped and covered my eyes, hearing tires squeal and horns beep. When I opened them, Death was unharmed and on the other side of the road, leaving a flurry of furious drivers in his wake. I had to wait until the lights went red and sprinted across. Death’s walk wasn’t fast but his stride was quite generous and by the time I caught up to him, we had both reached the pub.

I grabbed his arm and pulled but it was like trying to make an elephant shift its weight. I ran around in front of him just before he was in full view of the windows and planted my feet.

“Stop, stop, stop!” I hissed and to my surprise, he did. “Look, you don’t understand. We don’t have Death ambling around our streets. You’ll attract attention, the bad kind. Please, just stay in the shadows here and let me find Albert.”

Death seemed to be considering this then nodded his head. I breathed out in relief, heading for the door. As I reached it, a bunch of motorbikes roared up, each one with its own earthquake starting engine and its riders, clad from top to toe in leather, helmets and some rather interesting artwork. I looked at Death who seemed quite taken with the bikes, tilting his head to study them. I didn’t have a chance to ask what he was doing as the bikers were heading into the pub and I was standing in their beer bellied, unshaven, gruff way.

I darted inside and cowered to one side as they stormed in, laughing and carrying on.

When they were gone I regained a measure of dignity and looked around. The pub was a large rectangle and the bar was a smaller square to the right hand side of it, allowing the bartenders to serve from every side from a plethora of drinks from shelves that lined a solid block in the middle of the bar. Tables for two were pressed up against the wall, creating a tight thoroughfare around the bar on the narrow sides. Airplanes, made from empty beer cans, hung from the ceiling and the shelves of the bar were a rainbow of coloured glass. I could smell grease, chips, salsa, more grease, and peanuts. On the bar were the beers on tap and spills from glasses that were mopped up by a woman who looked as though she was attempting to replace her skin with tattoos. I could barely see any unmarked skin at all.

“ID.” She barked at me and I bristled at the notion that I looked too young.

“I’m not here to drink. I’m looking for Albert.”

“And who is he to you?” She asked dryly.

“He’s…my uncle. Uncle Albert.” I cleared my throat. “I’m here to take him home.”

“Go on then,” she jerked her head to the left side of the pub where there was more space and way more people, “but if I catch you drinking, I’ll toss you out on your arse, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” I nodded and inched my way through the thick crowds. The line of motorbikes outside should have given me a clue as to what kind of pub it was. This wasn’t the trendy, chef prepared meals pub that attracted yuppies and food critics. This was a raw, gritty, boozing, swearing, pool playing biker pub which sounded right up Albert’s alley.

I did not fit in at all.

I edged around the outside, narrowly avoiding screwing up someone’s pool shot and being lynched on the spot.

This was hopeless. How would I know Albert when I saw him? It’s not like he was Death and would stand out anywhere. Albert was human…I think.

I squeezed between two bikers with their backs to each other, unable to see anyone that looked out of place. I glanced out the window and saw Death looking in, his skeletal face almost glowing in the window frame. I made a few wild gestures for him to get out of the line of sight. He simply raised his bony finger and pointed. I turned and saw a group of bikers around a pool table, clapping and roaring in delight.

I looked at Death and shrugged helplessly at him. He gave me a nod and I rolled my eyes before breathing in deep and elbowing my way as politely as I could to the edge of the pool table. I coughed as a cloud of cigar smoke billowed in my face.

“And now, gentlemen, I shall cause this eight ball to go into the corner pocket…without touching it.”

I blinked away the tears and peered at the man who was half perched on the edge of the pool table, swaying in a drunken haze. His face was round and his cheeks were filled ruddy colour. I couldn’t tell if it was from the drink in one hand or the pie in the other that he wolfed down and then wiggled his fingers dramatically. I looked at the table to see the glossy eight ball begin to roll, without visible assistance, down the green of the pool table to hover dramatically at the edge of the hole before sinking into the pocket.

I was nearly deafened by the roar of the bikers who cheered and threw cash on the table, clapping and laughing at the drunken man’s antics.

Albert, because I can only presume a man who was the Archchancellor of the Unseen University and able to cheat death knew enough magic to perform party tricks for his burly biker friends, skulled his enormous glass of beer and burped loud and long. His clothes looked a little out of place but somehow he’d wrangled a jacket and covered up the top half. His hair was wiry and grey, little curls sticking out all over and in his pocket I could see the top of a nightcap, like he’d fallen through into our world while he’d been napping.

“Look, look, look!” He wobbled precariously, holding up the glass. With a wiggle of his fingers, the glass filled back up. The bikers cheered and laughed, banging on the pool table, causing the balls in the pockets to clatter together.

“Float up to the ceiling again, man!”

Albert gave an inebriated chuckle, went to speak then caught sight of me, sober, young and with an unimpressed expression on my face.

“Alas lads, our time has come to an end,” the bikers all groaned and called out for him to stay even as Albert stood on the pool table which even I knew was against pub etiquette, “and so I must bid you…farewell!” My eyes widened and I lunged for him but I was a bit late. His hand moved like lightning and a cloud of smoke burst into being, setting off the smoke detectors.

It was chaos.

Bikers bumbled into each other, unable to see through the tears in their eyes, beer was sloshed onto the ground, the alarms screamed in high pitched tones, each one competing with the next and the workers yelled at everyone to get out of the pub. My hands were empty even though I swear they’d been round one of Albert’s legs one second, only to fall void the next. I dove under the pool table which was actually quite sensible. There wasn’t any smoke down there and no one was pushing me to get to the door. And through this diminutively small window of two feet high, I spied a pair of legs that were not sporting biker leather running for the back exit.

“Right.” I grunted and went after him.

Albert might have had some magic up his sleeve but I was younger, fitter and faster. The fact that he was drunk and couldn’t run in a straight line had nothing to do with the ease of his capture…much. I saw him shove open the side door and grabbed it before it had a chance to close. He was already running…stumbling really, towards the road but I caught up with him before he could escape.

“Just stop it, would you! Albert stop!” I roared.

Albert’s eyes blinked away the drunken haze and he stared at me.

“You know my name?”

“Yes.” I said, flinching from the potency of his breath.

“Are you a wizzzzzaarrdd?”

“No. Death told me.”

“Fantastic.” He muttered.

I looked around. “Where is he?” I kept one hand tight on Albert’s collar to keep him from doing another runner on me. “He can’t have disappeared.”

“He can, you know.”

“I don’t think so. Not in this world.” I stamped my foot. I know it was a childish gesture but I’d trusted him enough to leave him alone while I rounded up Albert and now he’d vanished. “Come on.”

The footpath outside the pub was full of biker bodies, grumbling about the smoke detectors going off and having to leave their beers and fries behind. I attempted to keep Albert half hidden behind me as I tried to see where Death might have gone. Then I realised I was an idiot and just looked over their heads. Death was taller than all of them and his scythe was even taller again.

I spotted the scythe. It wasn’t in the crowd. It was across the road.

“What’s he doing over there?” I muttered. “Come on Albert.”

“How about one more game of pool?” He asked before I dragged him across the road in a brief reprieve of traffic. Death was walking with a man who was speaking quite amicably with him as though chatting with the spectre that drew the line between the now and the ever after was perfectly normal.

“Hey…where do you think you’re going?” I said, angrily, grabbing his arm. Death was pulled around abruptly, her robe flying open to reveal a body beneath dressed in black whose head didn’t even reach the hood despite the presence of five inch heels with custom painted skeletal feet.

“Steady on.” She barked, understandably annoyed.

“I…I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” I stammered stupidly.

“I told you, you need a name tag.” The woman’s friend laughed. “I’m going to wind up going home with the wrong Death tonight.”

“You do and I will tear you asunder.” The woman threatened lightly before pulling the robe back around herself and walking off with her friend.

I just stared at them go then realised Albert was chuckling behind me. I turned and glared at him.

“You knew…didn’t you?”

“Well, come on,” Albert shook his head, “Death isn’t Death unless it’s Death.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.” I retorted. “Why is…is that another one?”

We looked behind us to see another Death walking with his scythe held high above him. This time, Death was a little shorter and he waved to a carload of people waving and beeping their horn at him.

“I’ll see you there!” He called out to them.

“Excuse me, where are you going dressed like that?”

Death, well, faux Death, pulled the robe apart to look at me with an older face that sported a neat beard and moustache.

“Up to the Terry Pratchett party.”

“Yeah but…dressed like that?” I said, feeling a bit stupid.

“There are prizes for best costume in a range of categories. I’m hoping to do really well this year.” He beamed, tucked the robe around him and walked past us. I felt a looming sense of dread.

“Oh no…” I looked at Albert. “He wouldn’t?”

Albert chuckled like it was the best joke in the world.

And, as it happened, Death would.

Gilbert Square had been one of those, revamp the existing structure and try to inject a new lease of life into, what was becoming, a rough and less than ‘pretty’ neighbourhood. It faced the street and was hemmed in on both sides with shops and, above those, a deep awning that doubled as a veranda to the backpackers lodge on one side and on the other, flats that may or may not have been leased at that present time. A lot of the shops had gone out of business but there were some, the tattoo and piercing parlour and, right next door, a hair salon, that lasted quite well in this area. On the other side was a tarot card reading store that was only open certain days and at certain times during those days. The rest of the shops were empty except for tonight. They were filled for one night only in ‘pop up’ shop style like the kind you would see at a comic book convention. These ‘pop up’ shops, that appeared one day and disappeared the next, were run by larger book stores, comic book stores and figurine stores and were filled to the temporary brim with all manner of wares, mostly pertaining to Terry Pratchett and his famous Discworld.

In the middle of Gilbert Square was a round bandstand. It was quite large, the stretch of its roof almost touching the awnings of the shops. An alternative band, a bit steampunky to my ears but in keeping with the unusual feel of the celebration, played under the cover of the roof. Behind the bandstand, another good stretch away, was a carpark that was predominately taken up with a open top double decker bus, plastered over with the word ‘Discworld Forever’ and a myriad of characters and creatures interpreted from the books themselves.

The square was filled with people, some dressed like I was, sensibly for the chill of the night and others dressed in outfits that they had no doubt been working on for months. There were the usual fantasy characters that, unless I was a Pratchett aficionado, I would not see as being different from any other fantasy book including goblins, elves, orcs, trolls and everything in between. There was a series of cauldrons where you could purchase a hot drink like cider, coffee or something called Weatherwax’s brew that was tended to by witches who were the friendliest hags I’d ever seen. There was even someone dressed up as an orangutan…I had no idea where he fit into the scheme of things. There were wizards in red robes, long beards that were either real or fake and men dressed up as soldiers with plastic swords strapped to their sides.

And, of course, there were several incarnations of Death.

I stared at the sight, bemused, befuddled and hardly knowing where to start.

“This’ll be interesting.” Albert chuckled.

“Can’t you help me find him?” I demanded.

“As it seems I can’t die here and the realm of Death is rather dull…socially I mean, I’d rather stay here.”

“That is very unhelpful.”

Albert grumbled and shoved his hands in his pocket. “What if I promise to stay in the square?”

“You don’t really expect me to trust you after you did a runner in the pub?”

He beamed at me with a bit of a yellow grin and teeth that seemed a little large for his face. “I’m only going to have a wander and drink cider. I don’t suppose you’ve got any money on you?”

“I don’t suppose you think I’m silly enough to believe that you weren’t taking bets on your little magic tricks in the pub?” I retorted.

Albert chortled, there really was no other word for it, and rubbed his red nose.

“Fair enough. Now…where’s that meaty products vendor? I feel like something that’s been fried.”

I let him go. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t drag him everywhere with me and he did promise to stay.

“Damn Death and his doppelganger act.” I muttered. “Right, first Death!”

I was able to eliminate several ‘Deaths’ by their height alone. I knew that my Death was seven foot tall and would tower over most people but there were some dedicated cosplay attendees who were perched precariously on large heels in order to gain the right height.

After three failed attempts I finally chanced upon my Death at a ‘pop up’ bookstore. He had picked up a heavy volume, an illustrated copy of ‘The Colour of Magic’.

“Death?” I edged closer to him. “Is that you?”

YES.

I breathed a massive sigh of relief. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Death looked at me with his blue pin prick eyes that glowed like tiny stars in the eye sockets that were devoid of life.

YOUR HEART HAS SUFFERED NO TRAUMA.

“It’s an expression!” I cried. “Didn’t I tell you to stay low, keep your head down…not be seen?”

NO ONE HAS SEEN ME.

“Are you kidding me?” I slapped my forehead. “Everyone has seen you! You’re in plain sight!”

Death leaned down close to my face.

BUT NO ONE HAS SEEN ME.

I sighed. “Maybe they don’t know you’re real, but you can’t risk them realising it.”

THEY WILL NOT.

“Oh really? How can you be so sure?”

BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN CONGRATULATED TWENTY TWO TIMES ALREADY ON THE SUPERIOR MAKE OF MY COSTUME.

“Hey mate,” called a group of young people as they wandered past, “excellent outfit dude!”

TWENTY THREE.

“Give me strength…” I moaned.

“Excuse me?” A flock of girls dressed up as witches hovered behind us, each holding their phones out. “Could we get our picture with you? You’re the best Death we’ve ever seen!”

I opened my mouth to protest when I saw Death’s expression…or at least what I interpreted as being his expression.

I WOULD BE DELIGHTED. He said. MY ASSOCIATE WILL TAKE YOUR GLOWING IMAGE DEVICES AND CAPTURE MY LIKENESS UPON THEM.

The girls squealed, said something about him being an unbelievably good actor and thrust a half dozen phones at me. I muttered something explicit and found a place a few feet back, shoving the phones into my pockets and using one at a time.

It was one of those bizarre moments where, upon looking back, I realised I was taking digital proof of a fictional character’s presence in our real world…

But at the time, I was just trying to get through the moment.

Death stood up straight and the girls clustered around him as he towered above their heads with his scythe. I snapped all the pics needed just as the next lot of fans rocked up.

I took about a hundred photos in twenty minutes.

“Come on.” I said, grasping his arm in a pause before another flock of groupies showed up and demanded picture time. I knew I had the right ‘Death’ as pulling on his arm was like trying to move Thor’s hammer. “We have to go.”

“Do we really?” I glared at Albert who was inhaling a yiros, garlic dressing dripping down his chin.

“Yes, we do. What if someone figures out who you are?”

THEY DID.

“What do you mean they did?” I demanded.

AS I APPROACHED ONE OF THOSE DEVICES WITH TWO WHEELS, THE MAN WHO RODE UPON IT WAS QUITE…SHOCKED TO SEE ME.

“That’s the normal reaction.” Albert slurped his cider.

THEN HE LAUGHED AND SAID, EXCELLENT COSTUME MATE BUT THE DISCWORLD DO IS DOWN THERE. AND SO DOWN THERE IS WHERE I WENT AND I ENDED UP HERE.

“Yes but…”

“Excuse me.” I stifled a moan and turned to see a very pretty young woman dressed in a rather sensible, almost Mary Poppins, styled outfit but with a head of silvery white hair streaked with black. “May I get a photo with my grandfather?” She winked at Death.

INDEED.

The girl, who called herself ‘Susan’ although I was sure that wasn’t her name, stood next to Death and he put an arm around her, his bony fingers resting on her shoulder. I snapped the picture and showed her.

“That’s brilliant!” She cried. “Thank you so much!”

Death turned his head to watch her walk away with a skip in her step.

STRANGE.

“What is?”

THIS MOMENT.

“I don’t understand.”

“I do.” Albert nodded, sucking the garlic sauce off his fingers. “You’ve never had a welcoming like this, have you?”

NEVER.

“But…you’re popular in Discworld.” I could only surmise this as fact due to the excessive amount of ‘Death’ worship going on in Gilbert Square.

1. I AM NOT. Death remarked and moved away through the crowd as though the spectre of the ever after was completely normal.

I looked at Albert. “I still don’t get it.”

“You’re telling me that if death rocked up here, you’d say ‘come on in and have a cup of tea…or a cherry’?”

“Well…no. But death isn’t like that here. There’s no…physical…”

“Anthropomorphised?”

“Yeah, that thing. Death doesn’t have a body or a personality. It’s just an event.”

“Well, in Discworld, many believe, erroneously, that Death is there to cut people down before their time. He is feared, avoided and despised. But he’s just doing a job.”

“I think I see.” I said softly. “This must be pretty random for him then.”

Albert nodded. To his credit he didn’t run off again, unless it was to get something else to eat or drink. We drifted near Death all evening, watching him move through the crowds, peruse the shop windows, flick through books, pause for photos with avid fans and even got into a group photo with all the ‘Deaths’ that had shown up that night.

At about eleven thirty the band stopped playing and allowed a man and a woman to take centre stage. They were not dressed as characters but they had Discworld tshirts on. The woman had luminous red hair and heavy makeup while the man had bleached blonde hair dipped in green.

“Ladies, gentlemen, assorted creatures of Discworld and beyond, we just wanted to say thank you for a fantastic turn out in honour of the late, the great, Terry Pratchett.”

The crowd cheered his name happily and clapped.

“As you know we’re heading towards midnight which is when the evening must end. But before we do, we have some prizes to give away!”

Albert and I made sure we were planted next to our Death who was listening with his unalterable, expressionless skeletal façade.

The commentators ran through some of the prize categories and thanked the sponsors who had donated books, artwork, figurines and more to the prizes.

There were a few small giveaways and then I could feel the crowd begin to brim with excitement.

“Of course, we have to have our costume prizes.” The woman announced. “And so, to begin with, we have the prize for the best group costume which goes to the Wyrd sisters who tirelessly tended the cauldron of suspicious libations this evening!”

Three women, all dressed as witches, one with her prosthetic nose attempting to make a run for it, got up on the bandstand and accepted their prizes.

“We also have a prize for the Ankh-Morpork City Watch crew.”

The bumbling group of soldiers, some made even more bumbling because of possible sips of Weatherwax’s brew, made it up onto the bandstand.

“Best female costume goes to Cheery Littlebottom.”

A woman dressed as a female dwarf, with make up and a beard in two plaits and with rather scary heels that look like they’d been welded on, clattered up the steps of the bandstand and received a loud bout of applause.

“And finally we have the best male costume. Now the quality of the costumes to tonight’s celebration has been extremely high and I thank all of you for putting in the effort to show off your appreciate for an author who will never be forgotten as having made an indelible mark upon our world. However, there has been one stand out male costume and I think you’ll all agree when we call Death to the stage,” he pointed directly at our Death, “because you have been, quite literally, head and shoulders above the rest.”

There was, quite literally, nothing we could do to stop him and even if I had been able to halt his advance to the stage, how could I have explained it?

Death walked up with none of the clumsiness others, who were blinded by their costumes and almost shackled by their shoes, might have demonstrated.

The man and woman both clapped loudly and cheers went up from the crowd as Death stood and stared out at those who had lasted until almost midnight despite the threat of freezing.

YOUR APPROVAL IS MOST UNEXPECTED…BUT WELCOMED.

“Yeah, hear that voice changer he’s got going on!” The man laughed.

“Say something!”

I held my breath as Death looked around.

COWER BRIEF MORTALS!

The applause was deafening. I clapped my hands over my ears and looked up at Death. I swear, despite the unmoveable nature of his face, I got the impression that he was more than a little surprised.

When the applause died down someone called out,

“Can’t you bring Terry Pratchett back? He turned you from being despised into being loved. You owe him!”

Death eyed the crier with an almost tangible sense of sadness.

THE CREATOR IS GONE. I CANNOT RETURN HIM OR ANY OTHER WHO HAS PASSED THROUGH MY BRIEF CARE, there was a quiet contemplation at his words before he added, HOWEVER, MUCH I WOULD WANT TO SPEAK WITH HIM MYSELF.

A ripple of applause grew and grew and Death found himself at the pinnacle of popularity at the turn of midnight. When the ceremony was over I grabbed Albert and hauled him through the crowd to where Death was standing with the compares.

“Hi, sorry, we really need to be going.” I said, forcing my way into the conversation and laying claim to Death.

INDEED. Death responded. MY TIME HERE HAS COME TO AN END.

“Take my card,” the man said, handing it to Death who grasped it, “because if you ever want to put those cosplay, acting skills to work again, I’d be more than happy to pay you.”

“You’ve got substantial stage presence.” The woman added.

“And a long walk home.” I said, alluding to the trek we had to do on a freezing night in order to reach ‘Beyond The Page’. I was hoping they’d let us go so that we could get there before dawn.

“Why don’t we give you a lift?”

“He won’t fit in a car.” I said, hoping they wouldn’t ask Death to remove his costume.

“How about a bus?”

The open top, double decker bus belonged to Angus and Rose and was used to promote their roaming Pratchett fan club and organise events like the one in Gilbert Square.

Angus rallied a few other fans and workers to join us while Rose stayed behind to start winding things up. Death had a bit of a time ducking his tall form to get through the door and then up the tight stairwell to the top of the bus. There were single seats down one side and doubles down the other. Death sat at the front of the bus on the single seat and Albert and I sat on the other side. The bus filled up with party goers, laughing and carrying on like it wasn’t the wee hours of the morning…good grief, when did I get so old?

I finished texting E.J. who said he’d meet us at the store, gave Albert a bit of a shove as he tried to snore on my shoulder, the cumulative effect of a year’s worth of alcohol and food consumed within a single night finally catching up with him. I glanced at Death whose hood barely rippled in the breeze the bus created by moving out of Gilbert Square’s carpark and then down the main road, heading towards my suburb.

I went to say something to him then decided anything I did say would be inconsequential to the enormity of what had happened to him.

THANK YOU.

“For what?”

FOR TONIGHT.

“I did nothing except chase you round and take photos.” I insisted. “You were pretty popular.”

IT WAS RATHER…UNEXPECTED.

“Bad unexpected or good unexpected?”

Death lifted his chin into the breeze.

GOOD.

“I’m glad.” I tilted my head. “It was kind, what you said about Terry Pratchett.”

IT WAS TRUE.

“Yeah but,” I cleared my throat and leaned over, “it can’t be easy, coming to a world like this and realising that…well…”

Death turned to me.

THAT I AM A FICTIONAL CHARACTER OF A MAN’S CREATION?

“Um…yeah?”

IT IS THE WAY IT IS.

I studied him. “You’re taking it awfully well.”

Death’s blue pin point eyes bored into me.

DENYING IT IS FOOLISH AND DOES NOT CHANGE THE FACT.

I thought about this for a moment. “You mean, does not change the fiction?”

INDEED.

E.J. was more than surprised to see a bus full of rollicking cosplay Terry Pratchett fans rolling up to his doorstep. He couldn’t help but stare although I have to say he did a good job of keeping his slack jaw shut and as such, preserved a little bit of dignity, even as Death descended as gracefully as he could, his scythe banging into the top of the door of the bus. Albert almost rolled off the bus, he was so tired.

“Thanks!” I called to Angus.

“Wait up,” he clicked his fingers and picked up a box from next to him on the seat, “this was for the winner of the costume comp.” He held it out to Death who took it in his bony grip. “Hope to see you at the next event. Look us up on Facebook and you’ll see a whole heap of dates!”

He jumped back behind the wheel and the party bus rumbled away. I waved and saw Death doing the same thing. Albert was snoring on the doorstep.

“I am dying to know just how you managed this, Sam.” E.J. remarked, “but, first thing’s first. This way if you please.” He half led, half dragged Albert into ‘Beyond The Page’. I held the door open for Death and he almost had to halve his height to get in, holding his scythe like a jousting pole. He straightened up in the main portion of the shop and I closed the door behind us.

SAM.

“Yes, Death?”

Death held the box out to me.

WOULD YOU?

I guessed he meant for me to open it and I did so, easing out a heavy figure of Death riding a motorbike, knee to the ground and wearing a leather jacket, his blue eyes blazing.

“That’s incredible.” I whispered. “Did you actually ride this thing?”

I HAD NEVER BEEN THAT FAST WHILE TRAVELLING THAT SLOW.

“Okay…”

Death studied it for a long moment.

WOULD YOU KEEP IT FOR ME?

“Me?” I exclaimed. “But…it’s yours!”

IT HAS NO PLACE IN DISCWORLD OR IN MY DOMAIN JUST AS I HAVE NO PLACE IN YOUR WORLD.

I swallowed. “Yeah…of course. I’ll treasure it.”

THANK YOU, SAM.

E.J. was able to insert Death and Albert back into the book they had stumbled out of with minimal fuss and within ten minutes I was on my home, the heavy figure of Death on his death on wheels tucked beneath my arm. By the time I reached the flat door my arms were aching and it suddenly dawned on me just how tired I was.

“Must be getting on to one in the morning.” I muttered, juggling the figure as I put the key in the door, “maybe even past…uh oh…”

I closed the door quietly behind me and crept down the corridor. Mum’s bedroom door was shut. I put the figure in my room then snuck down to the kitchen to get something to eat.

I found mum sitting on the lounge with a stern look on her face.

“What time do you call this?”

I bit back any smart remark as I knew I had broken a strict taboo.

“Sorry.” I said softly.

“I called and called, Sam.”

“I went out late, it was noisy, I didn’t hear my phone…”

“And that’s somehow meant to make me feel better?” I shook my head. Mum stood up and I could see the worry lines on her forehead. The anger was a veneer covering fear. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow. We’ll talk about this later.”

I nodded and let her slide past in order to reach her bedroom. I wish I could say the guilt kept me awake but with my belly full of leftovers from the fridge, I fell into bed and knew nothing for eight solid hours.

Thank goodness E.J. wasn’t such a big stickler on my being on time.

I had breakfast, a shower, dressed and headed out the door, pulling it closed behind me and nearly ran into Lucas. He shifted out of my way just in time or else we would have collided. I had been in such a rush to get to where I was going, I had already taken a step in the outgoing direction without actually looking.

“Oh, Lucas…sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Lucas’ eyes flitted about but never really landed on my face and he certainly didn’t make eye contact. He looked very pale with a welt on one cheek and the eye of the same side was a lovely purple and black hue. I wondered if a family member or someone else had decked him.

I didn’t really want to have a conversation with him but I was suddenly aware that he was outside my flat. My, now, empty flat.

“Bye mum!” I called.

I don’t know if he was fooled by my attempt to make out someone was home. I said goodbye and walked away, glancing back at him at the start of the stairs. He hadn’t moved. He wasn’t even watching me go.

I confess, I stomped on the stairs, softening my step but not going further down than two steps. I then peeked around the corner and saw he was still there, facing the wrong way to be watching if I was there or not.

I pulled my phone out and sent mum a message, asking when she would be home and decided there wasn’t much else I could do but head to work. It didn’t seem like he was waiting for me to go so he could break in. He looked lost and confused.

By the time I got to work, knowing that mum would be home in a couple of hours, I had put the moment behind me and it wasn’t until I was walking up the stairs that I remembered he’d been there at all. I did a quick scan of the flat. Nothing seemed out of place.

Mum and I had our ‘chat’ about curfew.

I apologised.

She explained.

We compromised. I had to send her a message if I was going to be later than eleven. Mum would still struggle to relax until I was in the flat but if I let her know I was okay, she would rest easier.

Once tensions were dealt with, we enjoyed our meat pies and gravy.

However, that night I had a bad nightmare. It was of Lucas coming into the flat with a lit match and a grin that looked as though it had been stolen from the Cheshire Cat.

“One spark,” he said in a voice that sounded like hundreds of people crying out in agony, “and I could set your world aflame.”

I couldn’t move from the bed, frozen in horror as he set my room alight and I watched it burn around me as he laughed and laughed.

“You look tired.” E.J. remarked. I gave him a withering glare. He chuckled. “Is that your Weiss impression?”

“It’s my, I keep having a recurring nightmare, impression.” I retorted.

“What of?”

“Lucas threatening to burn my flat down.”

“Has he been troubling you?”

I shook my head. “I bumped into him once last week. I was worried he was watching to see if I was gone from the flat so he could break in but nothing happened.”

“Have you any security?”

I snorted. “Housing estate security? It’s called Barry the security guard who is just a body until the police arrive. All the cameras that were installed were stolen.”

“There’s irony for you.” E.J. stood up. “I’m going to meet Bluey at the station.”

“I’ll be here.” I said, working through my pile of reference cards. Slowly but surely I was whittling away at the wealth of information that had been amassed in the bookstore.

Without many more interruptions, I would be done in a month…maybe six weeks.

A couple of weeks later, my phone rang while I was typing. I was in such a flurry of fingers and keys that I hit speaker and continued to type.

“Hello?”

“Sam?”

“Hey E.J. Are you on your way back from the station already?”

“No. We’ve got an interloper in the tunnels. I need you to bring a couple of things then lock up. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

“See you then.”

I knew the routine for locking the bookstore and always double checked it. Weiss’ paranoia was catching. I stuffed a book into my bag and grabbed my coat. If we were going into the tunnels, I knew I ought to be prepared.

E.J. made sure I had everything on the checklist. “Given what we’re about to attempt, there won’t be room for, oops I forgot that.”

“Everything you asked for is in the bag,” I insisted, “but I don’t understand what the big deal is. Weiss is in the tunnels. She would be able to get whoever or whatever it is out and if they’re aggressive, she’s powerful enough to deal with them. Why does she need us?”

“We’re about to find out.”

Bluey was at the train station. He led us into the tunnels, bypassed the community and into a part of the tunnel system that looked abandoned and dangerous, even by tunnel dweller standards.

“She’s down there.” He pointed shakily. “I go now.”

“Thanks Blue.” I said and followed E.J. “So, any ideas?”

“Weiss said it was a dragon.”

My tension immediately went through the roof.

“And it hasn’t set itself on fire and done our job for us?”

“There are many dragons in the fantasy world that do not breathe fire.”

“Even so, the amount of dragons that breathe fire must still out number the ones that don’t by dozens, if not hundreds. What are the chances that we would encounter two in the space of a couple of months that don’t breathe fire?”

“Slim to none and it’s been three.”

“Explanation?”

“Weiss hasn’t been ready to come up yet.”

“No, not that. I mean, why two dragons that don’t breathe fire?” I paused and waited for E.J. to edge his way around a slippery patch of mould. “What if they were warned?”

“Warned?”

“By a character that has been here before?”

“They don’t retain that knowledge.”

“Okay, so maybe one like Dracula, that stayed for months…and maybe figured out that fire was bad?”

“What are the chances?”

“Up until a year ago I would have said the chances of encountering fictional characters in the real world was impossible.” I muttered and hurried after him.

Weiss was in a tunnel that looked like it emptied out into another tunnel going across its mouth. There was something furry blocking it. Weiss was sitting on the tunnel floor, speaking softly. She looked up at our approach.

“They are here.” She said quietly, her hand resting upon the fur. “Thank you for coming so quickly, E.J.”

“I could hardly do otherwise.” E.J. said firmly. “Weiss…this isn’t going to be easy. How did he get here?”

“He fell through some several stories below us and could only go one way. He attempted to reach the surface and found himself here. I told him to stop so that we could consult a map to ensure he does not become trapped.”

“It’s a miracle he hasn’t done so already.” E.J. whispered.

“Not a miracle. Luck.” She said with a wink.

“Luck?” I said quietly, recalling the book E.J. had me get out of the archives. As E.J. and Weiss spoke I inched forward to the blocked tunnel, the fur that I could see was bright white surrounding a circular area that had puckers of skin on each side. I held my breath as the puckers opened, revealing an eye, the colour of dark red wine. I jumped out of my skin, half frightened and half thrilled. “Falkor?” I gasped. The eye blinked at me. I turned and looked at E.J. and Weiss. “It’s Falkor!”