You’d think chasing a large troll through the streets of a lower socioeconomic suburb wouldn’t be all that difficult. I mean…he kind of stands out.

And, as chases go, he wasn’t that fast. The White Rabbit and Griffin were both faster and far harder to keep up with. And yet, Tom, the remaining troll, had a distinct height advantage. He also had an apparent lack of respect for obstacles in his way. Rather than go for the gate, he ran straight through the ten foot fence, tearing the posts out of the concrete and flinging them over his head, smashing his way into the thick underbrush on the other side.

By the time E.J. and I reached the fence, both Tom and Weiss were no where to be seen. Fortunately Tom had left some deep footprints in the grass and dirt. Unfortunately, when the dirt ended at the edge of a road, we were stumped.

“Any ideas?”

“Hush…” E.J. whispered, closing his eyes.

I didn’t need to close them to hear a wolf’s howl. We ran in the direction of her howl, almost the entire length of the warehouse district. My lungs and legs were screaming at me as the road dipped down into a ‘tunnel’ which was only the length of a two lane road that met up with a highway at one end and dumped into suburbia on the other. The tunnel road broke off into one of those intersections that had been plagued with near misses, prangs and one fatality in the past. There were three off shoots from it, including one that was a hard left out of the tunnel and despite the presence of newly installed lampposts, there was at least one prang a week. This was due to the temptation of people doing ‘blind runs’, where they would rev the engine of the cars to maximum and come flying out of the tunnel, fleeing up one of the exits. Because of the tight nature of the roads, it was a perfect place to try to dodge the police.

The tunnel was beautifully decorated with modern, I hate the world and everything in it, art and stank of urine and beer. I probably would have recognised some of the work from my own housing estate if I hadn’t been sprinting for the skewed intersection. One lamppost was glowing out of the three that had been installed. It was flickering and the post had been bent, sending the light off on an ineffective angle. But the light was enough to create the shadow of Tom standing in the middle of the intersection, his large hulking form heaving from his frantic flight.

He might have run for it but Weiss, in wolf form, was snarling at him, the bristles on her back quivering like a porcupine’s threat.

“Git out of me way!” Tom tried to run at her but she growled savagely, her teeth just missing his arm.

“Weiss! No! Stay back!” E.J. cried.

“Git away from me!”

“Sam…” How E.J. had seen me reach for the one spark grenade he’d given me, I’d never know. He seemed to have pigeon vision.

“I can hit him from here.” It was a laughably easy shot.

“But the sparks from the grenade might hit Weiss.”

That was a really good point.

“If she backs off…he’ll run…and that’s suburbia beyond.”

“Tom,” E.J. called, “we just want to send you home, that’s all.”

“You come any closer,” Tom’s knuckles cracked in a symphony as he tightened his fist, “and I’ll rip your arms off!”

I could see what E.J. was doing. He was trying to get an angle on Tom that wouldn’t go near Weiss. In the light of the lamppost she was a formidable sight. As big as the Hound of the Baskervilles. No. Bigger. And when the light glanced off her eyes, they rippled with green fire.

And then, a strange sound entered our world. It was steady, rhythmic footsteps. We looked up one of the roads leading to the intersection. Someone was jogging towards us, headphones on, staring at the ground as they ran. They had no idea we were there until they reached the intersection and went to automatically turn to go up a different road, glancing up casually, knowing the route by heart. They stopped midstep and stared at us, their jaw dropping at the sight of an enormous wolf, two humans and, hopefully, in the half light, a really big person…

We all froze, unable to think of what to do or say.

Before any of us could act or speak, the sound of a moron revving his car’s engine filled our ears. I was already diving off the road as E.J. yelled my name, the car streaking across the intersection, brakes squealing mightily. I heard Tom yell, a loud bang, more squealing and then a yelp before the sound of metal creaking and falling. I looked up in time to see the lamppost hit the ground, sparks flying everywhere and a flash of light, that I had come to recognise very well, indicating that Tom had vanished from our world.

“Sam?” E.J. grabbed my shoulders. “Sam!” I started and looked up at him in shock. “Are you alright?”

I nodded without really thinking about the answer.

“Help me!” We ran to the car that had slammed into the lamppost after glancing off Tom’s rhino weighted form. The engine was hissing and steaming. E.J. got the driver’s door open. I could smell petrol in the air. The car was leaking badly. There was blood on the wheel. “Check on the jogger!”

I turned away in relief and ran to the man who was holding his ankle.

“Are you alright?”

“I…think so…” He grimaced, holding his ankle. I stared at his arm. He’d been wearing one of those sporty running shirts with the trendy print. It had been torn in several places. Big rip marks. “Damn feral dog attacked me!”

“I…” I shook my head. “Can you call an ambulance?”

“Yeah…” The man was clearly shaken up but did so.

I looked back at E.J. who was pulling the driver out of the car.

“There you are, no, no, don’t try to speak. It’s alright. Sam, help me get her away from the car.”

“Should we even try to move them?”

“Car’s leaking petrol and the lamppost is sparking. It could go up in flames. Quickly.”

We did our best to keep her as still and steady as possible.

It wasn’t a stupid teenager with a souped up engine and a death wish.

It wasn’t even someone high on drugs and their own immortality.

The driver was an elderly woman with chunky pink beads around her neck, glasses and a cardigan.

E.J. and I moved her as gently as we could as the jogger rang through the incident. E.J. ripped off his shirt and bundled it beneath her head. She whimpered and groaned, blood pouring from a gash on her forehead.

“Easy there, I’ve got you.” E.J. said softly. “I know it hurts but help is on its way. You’ll be alright.” She clutched at his hand and he held it firmly. “Sam,” he whispered and I leaned close, “you’ve got to go find Weiss.”

I felt a shudder of dread. “The car…it hit her, didn’t it?”

He nodded. “I…I think it was a glancing blow. Just…find her. Please. I can’t leave here.”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll find her.”

I knew which way the jogger had fallen and started to run that way, guessing that Weiss would have continued in that direction. As I did, I could hear the symphony of sirens filling the air. The road followed along the embankment that went up towards the high road. There were a lot of bushes attempting to grow in the petrol and diesel fumed atmosphere but at a curve there was a culvert, a drain that had emptied out waste when the land was nothing more than fields and, probably, a rubbish dump. No one ever imagined the city would stretch out this far from the epicentre, let alone even further.

“If I was wounded and needed to hide…” I pushed the brush aside and saw the mouth of the culvert just beyond. I used the torch on my phone to shine into the tunnel. I could see a body inside and a bushy tail draped out of it. “Weiss?”

I could hear panting inside the culvert. I couldn’t see any blood and the drain only had water in it after it rained. As far as I could tell she wasn’t bleeding.

“I’m going to get E.J.” I offered and went to leave.

A pale hand whipped out and grabbed my arm.

“Stay…”

So I stayed. I sat on the edge of the culvert and listened to the sirens that were only two blocks away. I sent E.J. a message to let him know where we were and could do little else except listen to Weiss’ panting…she was trying to control the pain.

“Isn’t there anything else I can do?” I asked.

She shook her head, her teeth barred together. She was in her huntress state, still dressed as a Viking, the cloak of the wolf over her body.

“The driver…was just a little old lady. Not really who I was expecting.” I talked. I had to talk. I needed to talk. “Junkie, metal head…hoon…P plater…elderly lady was probably the last on my, who would do something so stupid, list. I mean…at that time…in that place…”

“Run…run…”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She grunted and I could see her clench her jaw. “Running…man…”

“Oh the jogger is fine. Bruised but fine.” I shook my head. “You pulled him out of the way, didn’t you?”

She shuddered. I already knew. In the blink of an eye she’d realised that, after glancing off Tom’s body, the car would spin out and hit the lamppost, the jogger standing directly beneath it. She’d leapt into the path of the oncoming vehicle, grabbed the jogger and been struck, dragging him out of harm’s way.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, “how you can think that you’re the same person that you were in the book…” I looked at her. Weiss’ eyes were shut, sweat glistening on her forehead. “You just risked your life to protect a stranger who will probably dub you the mad hound of suburbia. That’s not the kind of person that betrays everything they believe in to align with a racial purist who commands you to commit genocide.”

I couldn’t be sure my words were reaching her. She seemed to be going into a state of shock. I text E.J. again, with more exclamation marks. He called ten minutes later.

“I’m on my way Sam.”

“Weiss,” I called, putting my hand on her shoulder, “can you stand?”

She might have nodded or she might have shaken but I took it as proof of assurance and helped her ease out of the culvert. She let out a single yelp and half fell on me. I propped her up and we limped to the fringe of bushes that kept us out of eyesight with the road. E.J.’s car wasn’t along in appearing. He left the engine running as we both tried to get her into the back seat. She cried out, pressing her face into the leather.

“Hold on, Weiss. Hold on.” E.J. urged, putting his foot down.

“What happened at the crash? That old lady? Did she…”

“She’s alive, in a state of shock and hurt…driving an old car with no airbags.” E.J.’s mouth was grim. “She half came to when the ambos arrived. She kept saying she didn’t know what happened. She blacked out.”

“Lucky to be alive.”

“We can thank Tom’s hide for that. He slowed her down or else she’d be wrapped around that post.”

“And the jogger?”

“A couple of grazes on his arm and a twisted ankle but alive.”

I swallowed. “You?”

E.J.’s eyes flickered towards me. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah…sure.” I looked around. “Aren’t you taking Weiss to the hospital?”

“You don’t think they might pick up on her being not quite human?”

“Uh…I’m sorry…can you perform a hip replacement, set a broken leg and put her spine back together cause I’m pretty sure, she’s got all three!”

“She doesn’t need doctors. She needs somewhere safe.”

Safe turned out to be E.J. bedroom. Okay, that sounded a bit weird… It was the one room of E.J.’s place I’d never seen. The door had always been shut. It had all the style of a guy who didn’t care about style. Neat, tidy but nothing special. It took both of us to get Weiss out of the car. E.J. picked her up in his arms and she screeched into his shoulder.

“I know. I know.” He winced but kept carrying her inside.

“Need…to…change…”

“Can you?”

She had to return to her normal state on her own, collapsing as the light dissipated around her. E.J. picked her up again and laid her on the bed. There was no blood, no obvious signs of hurt except for the expression on both of their faces.

E.J. pulled me to the end of the bed.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?”

“Weiss can handle it.”

She stretched her arms out as wide as she could and flattened her legs. She began to say something, a chant, a whisper…maybe a prayer…then the image of an angel’s wings and robes formed around her. It wasn’t like her other states. She wasn’t it…but she was in its embrace as she folded her arms across her chest. Light rippled across her skin, strange symbols and words I didn’t recognise appearing, as though someone was inscribing her with elegant Japanese calligraphy with luminous ink. Her eyes closed and the mask of an angelic being formed across her features.

I must have been getting used to weird stuff happening.

I barely flinched.

E.J. breathed out and sagged against the door. “She’ll be alright now.”

“A healing meditation or something?”

“Or something.” E.J. looked like he was the one that had been hit by a car. “I…I need a drink.”

I had a hot chocolate and E.J. had a coffee with a dash of alcohol in it. I noticed that the bottle was quite dusty and barely a third empty. Clearly E.J. wasn’t a big drinker.

“What a night…”

“Yeah…”

Oddly enough, at that moment, I was more worried about E.J. than I was about Weiss. He seemed to have aged decades in a matter of hours. He looked haggard.

“What happens with Weiss now?”

“She’ll stay in that state until she’s healed,” E.J. drank some of his coffee and rubbed his eyes, “an hour, a day…”

“But when she comes out of it, she’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a relief.” I looked at E.J. “She’s going to be fine.”

He nodded and drank more coffee. “Yeah…I know.”

I stared at him. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go to bed. I didn’t want to make the effort of reaching out to him but E.J. seemed…unsettled.

“Look…I get that you’re…worried about Weiss…but is that all?”

He shook his head and sniffed. “I don’t know Sam…maybe Ryder’s right.”

“Huh? Since when?”

“Since always.” E.J. looked at me blearily. “If I’d just lit up those three trolls the moment they came into the warehouse, Weiss would never have been in that intersection and been hit by a car.”

Oh…guilt…yeah…

“I think that old lady would have blacked out regardless of Weiss being there or not,” I said gently, “and as for the jogger…he might have stopped to tie his shoelace in the light of the lamppost and been hit when she came flying through the intersection. Two people could have been killed tonight. Instead, no one was.”

Wow…that was really mature!

I was deeply impressed with myself.

Pity I didn’t have that kind of wisdom when it was me that was down or about to make a stupid decision…

E.J. didn’t seem all that convinced.

Probably because he’d already thought all that through.

Had Weiss been an ordinary person, she would have died in that intersection, another statistic that the council would use to install another lamppost as if that would do any good.

“E.J.,” he looked up, “I’ve been thinking…you say that, when fictional characters cross over, they lose something in translation…”

“That’s the theory.” He cleared his throat, forcing his mind to think about something other than the sound of Weiss’ yelping as the car slammed into her or her screams of agony that she had been unable to repress. “But when you have ones like Ryder and Taylor, trigger happy and lighting up interlopers left, right and centre…”

“Yeah, but we’ve seen our own evidence. Dracula couldn’t create perfect brides, just zombies. Falkor couldn’t speak, Griffin’s eyesight was damaged…” I paused. “I didn’t notice anything about Moriarty, Whitby, the trolls or the rest…”

“Not enough exposure in our world to see if anything was off.” E.J. shrugged.

“But the longer they’re here, the more likely it is to find something that hasn’t translated across, like they’ve glitched?”

“That’s been my experience. Why?”

I leaned forward. “What’s Weiss’ glitch?”

E.J. smiled. “I’d have thought that would be obvious by now.”

“Huh?”

“Sam…Weiss can’t sleep.”

“What…not at all?” He shook his head. “Seriously?”

“Nope. She cannot fall asleep.” Ah…suddenly all the books she read made sense. What else does one do when one doesn’t sleep? “Sam, go home.”

“Oh…I don’t want to…”

“I’m not going to drink myself to sleep.” He smiled at my surprised expression. “I caught you checking out the bottle in the cupboard. You don’t have to babysit me.”

I sighed and stood up. “You sure?”

He nodded. “I don’t want to leave Weiss on her own like this. She’s in a vulnerable state. I can’t drink myself into oblivion.”

“You need sleep too.”

“I’ll bunk on the floor in the bedroom across the door.”

“You think someone might come in and try to take her out?” I paused. “You think the Agency would…”

E.J.’s shoulders sagged. “I wouldn’t put it past them. I had to report the accident.”

“So you’ll guard her door until she’s awake?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll be in late. I’ll get the book I need to put the names back in, go to Jean tomorrow morning and come back via the hospital?”

“Check in on Lucas?”

“Yeah.”

E.J. nodded. “I think ‘Beyond The Page’ can stand to be closed for one day.”

The next day, after I’d told Jean what had happened at the intersection crash which had been on the news and she’d put Tom, Bert and William back where they belonged, I took a taxi to the hospital. The nurses on desk all knew me by sight now. One of them followed me to the bedside of Lucas. She rewrapped one of the dressings on his arm. The sores were healing slowly. They all left scars. There was one on his face from the welt that had been on his chin. His eye sockets were no longer black and blue but they were discoloured, a deep red hue.

“Hey Lucas,” I said, sitting down, “whatcha been up to?”

The nurse smiled at me. It’s what I always said when I came in. I’d said it by accident the first day and then it became habit.

“How is he?” I asked the nurse when Lucas didn’t respond.

“Still unconscious but he’s been breathing on his own properly for a few days.”

“That’s good.” I swallowed. “Has his family been in?”

The nurse’s face twitched. She looked angry for a moment. “I think it’s safe to say his friends care more about him than his own flesh and blood.”

Even though Lucas had been out of it since he collapsed in the warehouse, I still cringed at the words that he might overhear.

“Hey,” I reprimanded her softly, “he might hear you…”

She looked miffed and walked away.

I sighed and rubbed my face. “Well, Lucas,” I pulled my chair closer to the bed, “I’d tell you what I’ve been up to…but then I’d have to kill you,” I chuckled at my not funny joke, “so I thought I’d read you a book. I know, not really my thing but…I’ve got it and now you’re going to suffer it.” I pulled ‘The Hobbit’ out of my bag, making sure to keep the index card with the page numbers of Tom, Bert and William’s occurrences safely tucked inside the cover. I cleared my throat and opened it to the first page. I began to read it aloud, as softly as I could. By the time I’d gotten to the ‘Good Morning’ saga between Bilbo and Gandalf, my throat was already becoming sore. I sipped some water and went to continue when I heard my name spoken.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?” I said, stupidly looking over my shoulder. When I couldn’t see anyone I turned back to the book. A minute later I heard it again.

“Sam?”

This time I looked up first and saw Lucas lick his lips. I gave this weird yelp and stood up.

“Lucas? Are you awake?”

“Where…am I?”

I looked around for a nurse but as luck would have it, they were not at the desk.

“Ah, you’re in the hospital.”

He licked his dry lips again.

“Do you want a drink?”

He nodded. I put a straw in a cup of water and helped him to drink it. He sank into the pillows.

“Where am I?”

“In the hospital.”

“Oh…yeah…why is it so dark?”

His eyelids fluttered open. I couldn’t contain my gasp of horror at the milky white of his eyes beneath. There was barely any colour left in them at all.

“Sam?”

“I’m here…” His fingers flicked up and out. I wasn’t a big hand holder but I didn’t hesitate to grasp his icy fingers, knowing he needed to know I was really there.

“Why…can’t I see you?”

“Um…” I looked around, now trapped by his side and faced with questions I didn’t have answers to. “I…I’ll get someone…”

“Don’t leave me…” His voice was broken, a whimper yet conveying deep urgency.

“Okay…”

“I don’t want to be alone in the dark anymore…it was so dark…Sam…why can’t I see you?”

“I…it’s…hard to explain…”

Lucas gave a sob, his fingers tightening me out of desperation, not out of strength.

“Is he here?”

“Who?”

He shuddered. “Don’t let him get me!”

“I won’t. You’re safe Lucas.”

“I can’t see! Why can’t I see?!”

I spun around and, regardless of the restrained atmosphere of the ward, yelled, “Nurse!”

Almost instantly three nurses appeared from around the corner. Lucas was sobbing and thrashing, tearing at the tubes plugged into his arms.

“Don’t let him get me! Sam, don’t let him get me!”

“Please, step back!” I was ordered by the nurse. I staggered backwards as the alarm code began to sound through the intensive care ward. A doctor and another nurse ran in and I was pushed even further away.

“I can’t see! Don’t let him get me! Don’t let him get me!”

A moment after he was injected with something, Lucas collapsed back on the bed. The doctor and nurses fussed and wrote notes and reconnected the tubes. One of them picked up ‘The Hobbit’ and handed it to me.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Yeah…” I whispered. “He just…flipped out.”

“It’s nothing to do with you. It’s a scary thing to wake up and not know where you are or what happened to you. He’ll be alright.”

“Alright?” I shivered. “Lucas…”

It was frightening to stay but I felt like I was deserting Lucas if I left. However, when the doctor turned to me and said there was nothing else I could do and that someone would call when Lucas was conscious again, I escaped the hospital.

To distract myself I hit up the shops, looking for a gift for mum for Christmas.

I know, I know, why wouldn’t I shop online?

I mean, I’m supposed to be half plugged into the internet, right?

One, anything my mum would like as a gift wouldn’t come from an online store.

Two, I needed to be around people.

I didn’t care if I didn’t say anything to any of them, I just needed to be around them.

I lost myself in the bright colours and Christmas music flooded halls of the multi complex shopping centre, aimlessly wandering, trying to get the terror of Lucas’ voice out of my head and heart.

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

He had known about Inferus.

He knew something or someone had possessed him.

I felt sick at the thought.

“Concentrate, Sam,” I said so loudly and sharply that a couple nearby gave me weird looks, “what would mum like for Christmas?”

E.J. had suggested a book but all the books I knew about were filled with creatures I was terrified of confronting.

I delved into my knowledge of my mum.

Soft. Kind. Hardworking and sharp as a whip when needed to be…and deeply committed to her faith…which lead me to a Christian bookshop. I know the sign above it said ‘store’ but I couldn’t bring myself to call it that. Inside, feeling at a loss at the world around me that I knew so little about and, by definition, knew so little about my mum about, I turned to the woman behind the counter. She helped me picked out a book that didn’t have anything demonic on the cover and I purchased a gift voucher to put inside it. Feeling somewhat satisfied with my choices I even got another voucher for a large department store so that she could buy a candle, clothes, a clock…or something that didn’t start with ‘C’.

I had never been so generous with my Christmas giving.

Perhaps it was the half decent bank balance that did it.

Or perhaps it was the revelation that, out of the chaos and uncertainty of the world I found myself in, the steady, kind hearted soul of my mum was something I could always count on.

At our flat I called out and heard no reply which meant I was free to rifle through her wardrobe for wrapping paper. The treacherous rolls had, as their name implied, rolled to the back of the wardrobe and as I wasn’t eight feet tall, I couldn’t reach, let alone see what I was doing. I perched on the edge of a chair and scrabbled about blindly, fingers inching through the dust. Finally my fingertips brushed over something. It wasn’t a roll of paper but it might have been blocking my search so I grasped it and pulled it out of the way.

“You’re a heavy sucker…what on earth are you?”

I pulled it to the front of the wardrobe and then, with both hands up and face down, to avoid the spray of dust, I grasped whatever it was and heaved it into my hands. My perch on the chair turned from precarious to downright lethal so I stumbled to the ground, coughed and looked at what I’d found.

I have to say, I stared at it for a long, long time.

It’s not that what it implied didn’t immediately leapt into my frontal lobe…but I instantly pushed it aside, trying desperately to come up with another reason for it’s presence.

However, the longer I stared at it, the more my hands began to shake and my heart twisted so hard I was sure it was about to snap.

In my hands…was the statue of Death riding a motorbike that had been stolen from my room.

And then, because I couldn’t think of what else to do with it, I put it back where I found it and closed the wardrobe, retreating to my room.

Mum came home an hour later with the usual amount of food in bags that she could reasonably carry. It was a daily trip for her. She struggled to the kitchen, the bags rustling relentlessly as she called out,

“Sam, you home?”

I crept out of my room and peered around the corner at her. She was humming to herself, putting the food away in our tiny pantry, the very picture of safety and consistency.

Yet my heart was deeply troubled.

“Sam?” She called, not realising I was right behind her. “Chops or spaghetti for dinner?” She turned, both packets of meat in her hands and jumped in fright. “Sam! You frightened me!”

“Sorry.” I said softly.

Mum was so preoccupied with her fright and thoughts about dinner, she didn’t notice the mood I was in.

“Early finish today? That’s nice. Did you go to the hospital again?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

“That’s good for Lucas. I know he’s unconscious but I’m sure it means something to him. So, which is it?”

“Huh?”

“Chops or spaghetti?”

“Oh…spaghetti.”

Mum nodded and put the chops in our petite freezer, leaving the mince out. “Tomatoes, onions, mushrooms…Pasta is on the shelf…”

“Here, let me get it for you.” I braved two steps into the kitchen and grabbed the bag of spirals down from the shelf, handing it to her. Immediately my eyes locked onto a square of gauze on her arm. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” she shrugged, “I must have knocked my arm on the corner of something and then a welt appeared.”

My blood ran cold. “You need to have someone look at that.”

“I’m not running to the doctor for every bump and bruise I get. It’ll heal up in a day or two. Sam? Is something wrong?”

I had no words, no explanation, my stomach churning in a way that made my skin grow hot, the kind of revulsion one gets just before they vomit to the point of passing out. I finally lifted my eyes and locked onto my mum’s. She gazed at me kindly, confusedly, for a moment before her countenance dropped and when she spoke, though it was with her voice, it wasn’t my mum.

“I suppose there is not much use in pretending anymore, is there?” I recoiled as she took a step towards me, her usually brown irises lightening to blue. She passed me and walked into the lounge room of our humble abode. She looked around, flicking ornaments with disdain on her expression. “If I am completely honest, it is quite a relief to drop the pretence,” as she continued to speak, her voice deepened and a strange accent, clipped yet thick, began to emerge, “of such a pathetic existence. How small and petty is the mind of this body you cherish? How small are her concerns? How demeaning is her work?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head and yet, as she stood there, my mother in every way, I couldn’t see her. I could only see him. There was nothing left of my mother. “She is the epitome of your human phrase, ‘many cooks spoil the broth’, for in her I can feel the contaminated blood, the despicable heritage,” she looked as though she was going to spit to the side as if the bile of revulsion was working its way up her throat, “the commonness…”

She looked out of the window and that kindly face, that compassionate woman who worked extra hours so she could buy socks and clean water for children in poverty stricken areas, was disgusted to the point of fury.

“I thought my world was bad…but this reality? It is almost beyond redemption. If it was a building I would tear it down until not a block, not a splintered beam or crumb of brick remained and start again. I would not even use the common as slaves. I would not give them a chance to rebel or attempt to redeem themselves. Only the pure are meant to survive. Only the strong, the untainted…the holy ones would be allowed to remain and the bloodline cleansed of all imperfection.” She looked down at her hands and then reached up to touch her face, her nails scraping across her skin. “It is almost more than I can bear…to be in this skin…to feel its uncleanliness suck at my immortal soul…”

Scratches began to appear across her cheeks.

“Stop…” My voice was little more than a squeak. She ignored me, yanking hair out of her scalp. “Please…Inferus…” She stopped and looked at me, her ice blue eyes with the dark rim around them becoming bloodshot. “Leave my mother alone…please…”

She dropped her hands and stared at me, her skin turning sallow. “You beg for this one?”

“I’d do anything for her.” I whispered. “Please…”

Her lips curled up in a superior sneer. “I have little interest in remaining here though it was amusing to study the one who had engendered so much trust. It seems, even in reality, Adeleweiss surrounds herself with incompetents and children.” She walked towards me, never blinking, holding my gaze. “Please convey to Adeleweiss that she cannot run from me anymore than she can run from who she is. Fate will drive us together towards an inevitable conclusion. I will see her soon.”

Suddenly mum’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she staggered backwards, hands flailing. I lunged for her as she collapsed and kept her from striking the ground.

“Mum? Mum!”

“Sam?” Twice in one day my name, spoken brokenly, was the most extraordinary sound I’d ever heard.

“Mum!”

“Sam,” she opened her brown eyes and looked into mine, befuddled and weak, “what happened? Oh…I feel so strange.”

“You just had a bit of a faint,” I explained simply, testing the waters, unable to tell what she knew and what she remembered, “here, sit down.”

She sank into her chair, trembling all over. “I was in the kitchen…oh…dinner!”

“I’ll sort it tonight. You just rest.”

“Thank you.” She was frail and trembly.

“I’ll make you some coffee.”

As I moved away she grasped my hand and I half expected the accusations to start flying.

Instead she said, “Make sure it’s decaf, Sam, otherwise I’ll be up all night.”

Now, I’ll admit to a lot of stupid, weak and downright cowardly behaviour, but that night, looking after mum, I was a trooper. I didn’t give anything away, I cooked dinner, did the dishes and we even talked about the Christmas service coming up in her church.

Only after I made sure she was safely tucked in bed did I allow the true weight of what had happened wash over me.

It was like I was drowning.

I locked my door after I went to bed but even then, I had to wonder, why I bothered.

After all, if Inferus was nothing more than a presence, I doubted a locked door would have meant much to him.

I suppose it’s a bit obvious to say…but I didn’t get a lot of sleep.

By the time I woke up, mum was already gone to work. Knowing that relentless questions about how she was would only make her suspicious or exasperate her…and if Inferus was cruising around in her body he’d just play mind games with me, I legged it to E.J.’s place.

“Weiss is still…Sam? What is it?”

You ever have those moments when there’s so much to say that you can’t think of where to start? It’s like trying to find the end of a tangled ball of yarn (mum went through a crocheting phase and I was the chief detangler). There was also the fear that, admitting what I knew…what had happened…would somehow make it more real. I gaped at E.J., opening and closing my mouth over and over. To his credit, E.J. just waited until I blurted out the scariest thing I’d ever said.

“Inferus possessed my mum and gave me a message for Weiss.”

Had I said that to anyone else, I knew I’d have been laughed at and mocked.

E.J. sat me down but didn’t dissolve into the fear I was dreading because, if E.J. was scared of something then I was petrified. He got me to talk it out, from the moment I first discovered Death in her wardrobe, to the conversation we had and how she didn’t seem to remember the possession. He listened carefully and calmly and the terror that had been trying to overwhelm me was pushed back.

“What do we do?” I asked softly at the end of it.

“Given that this is rather concrete proof of Inferus’ presence in our world, the first thing I need to do is let the Agency know.” E.J. licked his lips. “They’re not going to be impressed, what with the increasing number of incursions…”

“Screw the Agency,” I blurted, “how are we going to protect my mum?”

“If you’ve got an idea of how to stop an aggressive corporeal presence from possessing a person, I’d love to hear it.”

I swore and stood up. “This is my fault.”

“How do you figure that?”

“If I wasn’t employed here, if I wasn’t doing all this,” I glared at him, “then Inferus wouldn’t bother with my mum at all!”

“And yet that is the very reason she is now safe.”

“How?”

E.J. stood up. “Sam, you know the signs to look for. Inferus can’t risk alerting you to his presence again. Not like that.”

“It’s not like I can stop him from throwing her off the balcony!”

“True…but I do wonder just how much control he has.” E.J. paused. “You said your mother’s appearance began to decline quite rapidly while Inferus was speaking through her.”

I nodded. “Yeah…she did.”

“I’m wondering if Inferus passively travels from one person to the next but if he possesses someone and overtly takes control, the decline of the host is more acute.” E.J. sighed. “It also means Lucas never ransacked your home.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Never having considered my mum to be the thief, I never put the two facts together of my mouse being on the left hand side of my keyboard and my mum being lefthanded. Also the chair was pushed neatly beneath my desk. That wasn’t a Lucas thing to do either. “What I don’t get is how Lucas knows about Inferus?”

E.J. sat up. “He does?”

“He woke up yesterday,” which felt like a million years ago now, “and he was terrified that ‘he’ was going to get him.”

E.J. breathed in deeply and out again. “That’s very interesting…but it still doesn’t help us to know how to deal with Inferus. Even if we know what body he’s in, in order to get rid of him…”

“You have to kill the host.”

“I don’t know of any other way around it.” E.J. sighed. “Listen, I need to let the Agency know all this and I’d prefer to do it in person. Can you watch Weiss for me?”

“Yeah I can.”

E.J. left without any further warnings or stern looks. I guess he must be really starting to trust me which was a pretty big responsibility…

…and one I immediately started to push the boundaries of by going to the threshold of his bedroom and looking in. The room still glowed with the pulsing white light of the image of an angel over Weiss’ body. It was a good thing that E.J.’s bedroom didn’t have windows because the light, though a little dimmer than I recalled, was hardly subtle.

If it had been able to be seen from the outside, people might have knocked on the door, asking whether E.T. had landed.

Weiss looked unchanged except, instead of pain, her expression was soft and, for the first time since I knew her, vulnerable.

I shook my head. No, I’d seen that unguarded look on her face before.

When she’d gazed at E.J. at the park.

She’d been dowdy and unremarkable then.

Certainly not the jaw dropping, powerhouse supermodel she’d become only minutes later.

Not for the first time, I wondered what she had been like before the responsibility of the world had consumed her and imbued her with the power of these ‘states’.

“I just need to read the damn books.” I muttered then turned around and glared at the wall behind me. I pressed my fingers to the wall. I suspected that the two books were somewhere secreted within the wall, safe behind the locked switchboard which meant they were probably only an inch from my grasp. “If I just had the key…”

I turned and looked at Weiss, eyes closed and lying perfectly still on the bed.

She wore the key around her neck.

My sudden and certainly unexpected desire to read books propelled me towards the threshold of the room again, a burning demand within me to see if I could retrieve the key.

It was the same sensation of waking up early at Christmas and sneaking out just to ‘look’ at the presents, only for your parents to wake up an hour later and discover you’d opened everything.

If I could just get that key…

My eyes were on Weiss’ face and the symbol of the angel over it that I wasn’t looking at the ground. My feet struck something and I looked down.

Lying across the threshold…was E.J.’s makeshift bed.

Cushions from his lounge crammed together as a mattress, blankets on top and a pillow.

E.J. slept here…to protect her.

The woman he loved.

He trusted me to do the same in his absence.

Not love her…but to protect her with the same dedication and respect.

It was a sobering moment.

When E.J. came back nearly two hours later, I was sitting with my back against the wall, facing his bedroom.

Before I could speak he said, “Thanks Sam.”

I nodded and stood up. “How did it go at the Agency?”

“Oh I just dumped the information on them and they’ll scramble and deliberate…” He shrugged, looking tired.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“To be honest, I could use it.”

“I’ll be in the bookstore if you need me.” I went to walk past him and his hand reached out and grabbed my arm. I looked at him, frightened by the seriousness in his eyes.

“Sam…what if I was possessed by Inferus?”

After what had happened to Lucas and then my mum…I went from safe to terrified in a heartbeat.

“Are you?” I asked in a hollow tone.

“If I said no, how would you believe me?” His eyes were cold and sharp.

I swallowed hard. “You…would tell me to check…”

“Is that really enough?” E.J. put his hand in his pocket and I confess, I stepped backwards, frightened at what he was about to reveal. He opened his fingers, a vintage lighter lying on his palm and held it out to me. I took it and flicked the flame into being. Unable to stop shaking I brought it closer and closer to E.J.’s face. He didn’t flinch, not even when he brought his hand up to extinguish the flame.

We both breathed out shakily.

“There’s got to be a less painful way of making sure.” I muttered.

“Tell me about it.” E.J. wiped his hand on his pant leg and shook his head when I tried to give him back the lighter. “Keep it.” My fingers tightened around the small metal lighter, feeling some measure of comfort in the dormant flame, almost as much as the revelation that I was trusted with it. “I’m gonna catch up on some sleep.”

I nodded and walked to the front door. “Hey E.J…”

“Yeah?”

“How do you know I’m not possessed by Inferus?”

E.J. smiled. “Weiss is still here, isn’t she?”

It was hard to concentrate on my work in the bookstore, slugging away through the endless index cards but in the end the mindlessness of the work distracted me from the way my life seemed to be disintegrating. All I did, from one minute to the next was enter the next index card into the system, my work interrupted only by Jai and the parcel delivery guy.

It even got to the stage where I was lulled into a bizarre state of safety…which got blown out of the water when I received a call from the hospital, saying that Lucas was conscious and asking for me.

Immediately all the terror returned.

I asked E.J. what I should do.

“Go talk to your friend.” He nodded, looking all the better for a few hours sleep.

“What’ll the Agency say about that?”

“They recognise that a stranger from an obscure Agency won’t be able to relate to Lucas like you will. Lucas wants to talk to you, Sam and to be honest, we really need to know what he knows.”

So it was with no little trepidation, I returned to the hospital.

Lucas was sitting up, as much as hospital beds allow which is kind of an uncomfortable slant somewhere between lying down and sitting upright so that you are permitted to have a drink…but you’ll probably end up slopping it all over your front.

“Lucas, your friend Sam is here.”

His face turned towards the sound of the nurse’s voice, his eyes milky and white as his instincts told him to try to see me even though his pupils could no longer do so.

“Sam?”

“Hey, Lucas…”

Lucas breathed out shakily. “Is it really you?”

“It’s Sam, Lucas.” The nurse reassured Lucas before giving us both smiles that Lucas couldn’t see and moving away.

I swallowed and looked back at Lucas. “That’s not really what you meant, is it?” I asked quietly.

Lucas shook his head. “Is it really you?”

I breathed out. “Unless I put myself through a test of fire…yes, it’s me.”

His hand trembled as he reached out, trying to find mine. I grasped it and felt his grip tighten.

“You know…don’t you?”

“Yeah, Lucas, I know.”

“How do you know about him?”

Now there was a question I had no idea of how to answer. “He’s…known to the people I work for. He’s a malevolent xenophobic presence hellbent on racial purification…and for some reason he chose to inhabit you.”

“He was after you.”

“Me?”

Lucas nodded. “He wanted to know more about you, more about where you worked and the people you worked with…it seemed as though he’d been searching for a long time…”

“How do you know?”

Lucas shrugged…or maybe he shivered. I drew the blanket up around him.

“In the beginning I thought I’d uncovered an unholy angel. He…talked to me.”

“Talked?”

Lucas nodded. “He told me that he could give me whatever I wanted if I gave myself to him. It was in my head, one night when I was high…I thought it was a delusion but I said yes. I could feel him nudging me…like a shadow always over my shoulder.” He swallowed, his free hand scratching at a piece of gauze on his neck that probably covered a healing welt.

“Do you know when this was?”

“Before the promenade…when that man disappeared in a flash. That was real, wasn’t it?”

In a split second I decided that Lucas deserved the truth. “Yes.”

“He…didn’t want me to confront you. He told me I had to stay away…but I was desperate for a fix…” Lucas sniffed. “In the bookstore he was screaming at me…and then suddenly he just left…”

“When you lit the match?”

Lucas breathed out. “Yes, he deserted me and I was alone…and I was angry and weak and…did I egg your door?”

“Yeah.”

“Sam…”

“It’s okay Lucas,” I said sincerely, “I’m not angry. I’m just trying to figure out how to stop this guy.”

“Sam,” Lucas grasped my hand, “you have to stop him.”

“Yes, I just said…”

Lucas leaned down and bore into me with those milky white depths. “No…you have to stop him.”

My spine trembled. “Why?” I whispered despite honestly not wanting to know.

“Because…when he came back…it wasn’t gently. He,” tears began to trickle down Lucas’ face, “took hold of me…he was violent…like he was…”

Suddenly I knew. I knew exactly what Lucas was trying to say. He’d been trapped, held prisoner and systematically, violently, hatefully abused.

“But he was so angry…that his mind…I could see memories of so many people…he’s been searching for so long…”

“I know who he’s been looking for.” I sighed, imagining just how long Inferus had been jumping from person to person, trying to find Weiss.

“It wasn’t just the memories of others I saw.” Lucas’ voice dropped to a whisper. “It looked like another world… memories that weren’t of this world. Sam…the killing…the culling…so many deaths…and a city made of bones…and one of those, you know the circular things that spin in and around each other?”

I had to Google what he meant. “A gyroscope?”

“Yes,” Lucas gasped, “I could see it at the top of this tower but the centre was empty. He needed something…someone…in it…and then there was this flash of light…and all I could taste was ash in my mouth…of the bodies that burned…”

Tears streamed down his face. I forwent any pride and awkwardness and sat on the bed with him, my arm around his shoulders.

“You don’t have to remember it anymore,” I said firmly, “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, you needed to know,” Lucas whispered, “because he’s going to do it here. He’s going to recreate his world here.”

I wasn’t sure at that point who was hugging who because I tell you, I seriously needed a hug at that moment too.

“You seem quiet tonight.”

I looked up from my Christmas ham dinner. Mum loved Christmas ham and scrimped and saved her points to make a voucher that would buy the nicest one of the type she liked. It meant, however, that in our tiny kitchen fridge, it dominated the shelves and so, in order to justify it, we ate ham a lot for dinner. Ham with salad. Ham with crackers. Ham, cheese and mustard…ham with all of the above. I didn’t mind it. It wasn’t swimming in gravy but I have to say, I’m glad Christmas only comes around once a year because after a month of devouring a colossal ham, I’m over it.

“I saw Lucas at the hospital today. He’s awake.”

“How is he?”

“Traumatised.” I said bluntly, too tired to formulate a kind answer. “The sores are healing. He’ll be scarred…and it looks like his eyesight is gone.”

“Poor soul.” Mum said tenderly.

I smiled sadly. That was my mum. Despite the fact that she never really liked Lucas or the Perret family, she’d never wish harm on them and I knew for a fact that she’d dropped a hamper on their doorstep for Christmas in the past. I don’t know how it was received but she knew, from what Lucas said when he was a lot younger and visiting me in my flat, that there was no food in their fridge and he didn’t want toys for Christmas, just a nice meal.

I looked down at her arm. The gauze patch had been replaced with a bandaid.

“Is it healing?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” Mum nodded, “it’s already so much better.”

Still, Inferus could be passively inhabiting her and I’d never know…

“You haven’t had any more dizzy spells?”

“I was tired at work today but I made it through.” She yawned. “I’ll be having an early night tonight.”

I picked up the empty dishes and washed them quietly in the sink while she dried.

“Do you know if Lucas will be home for Christmas?”

“Don’t know if he’ll be allowed out of the hospital.” I hadn’t asked the nurse if any of his family had visited. I was afraid of the answer.

“I’m going to put his name down for our ‘Moved with Compassion’ Christmas kindness package.”

“What’s that?”

“Hampers that we’re putting together, some practical gifts, food, toys for children…”

“That’s pretty cool.” I nodded.

“We’re hoping to put together over three hundred.”

“Seriously?” Mum nodded, wrapping the ham in its vinegar bag and cramming it into the fridge. “Why so many?”

“Oh Sam, they wouldn’t cover all the needy souls in our suburb, especially at this time of year.”

“What do you mean?”

Mum sighed. “With all the trauma that people have suffered in the world, Christmas can be a very lonely and depressing time for some.”

“I thought it was supposed to have the opposite effect.” I remarked, hoping mum would realise I wasn’t being smart.

“It is a message of hope…but a great many people are on their own, choosing between food or clothing or just paying debts and rent…some sinking further and further into despair while everything around them screams, ‘It’s the most wonderful time of the year’.”

I had a vision, unwelcomed and painful, of Shiloh in her little cottage, falling behind on her manuscript deadline…darkness closing in around her with no way out.

Suddenly, my hard earned bank balance that was what remained after paying off my student loan for uni, seemed excessive.

“Mum,” I said softly, “if more people donated…would the church be able to put more hampers together?”

“Yes, it would.”

I breathed out. “I’ve got five hundred dollars saved up. I’d like to donate it.”

Mum’s jaw dropped and my eyes filled with tears that my gift would be so surprising that it would shock her.

“Sam…are you…”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I nodded. “I want to. Goodness knows I don’t help out in any other way.”

Mum put the tea towel down and took my hands. “Sam…I am so proud of you.”

I wrapped my arms around her. “Mum, if I’m any good as a human being, it’s because you never gave up on me.”

She drew back and gave me a look. “You know…even with the extra funds, the hampers don’t put themselves together. Would you like to help out this Saturday?”

I answered without hesitation. “Yeah, I really would.”

It was actually a lot of fun. I mean, I’m pretty sure all mum’s church friends thought it meant I was softening to the faith and they almost swarmed me with their enthusiasm…but it was nice. The world sucked…but this was a group of people trying to make it suck a little less and for once, I was part of it.

I lost count of the amount of tins of soup I packed. We worked in assembly line fashion, boxes, hastily wrapped in Christmas paper so that they at least looked festive, were passed down the line of trestle tables that were crammed together and each of us had an allocated station. I was tomato and pumpkin soup and my position was hemmed in by crates filled with the tins. I put a tin in of each into the box and slid it along to the next station. Someone had worked out that the heavy things needed to go in first so on my left were bags of rice and on my right were tins of chicken and tuna. I must have looked young, hale and hearty because the light item tables were all attended by older men and women who couldn’t do so much heavy lifting. Mind you, by the time the boxes reached them, they were considerably heavier! I couldn’t believe how much they crammed into the hampers!

Mum checked up on me a few times during the day. I was tempted to say how tired I was and if I could go home but that was the immature me only thinking of my feet and how much I missed my computer. I refused any self pity and threw myself wholeheartedly into the day.

Mind you, I was still relieved when it was over.

“That’s a lot of boxes.” I said, surveying the pile.

“And that’s just what we did this afternoon. The morning boxes have already gone out in people’s cars.”

“That’s really, really cool.” I felt quite proud of it, not that I took any credit for it but that’d I’d actually been a part of it.

There were families all over my lower socioeconomic suburb three days before Christmas, thinking that they’d been forgotten and passed over, about to receive more than just food. They were going to be told that someone in the world hadn’t forgotten them.

When I fell into bed that night, I was more than tired.

Yet I was even more content than I was exhausted.

Five minutes later my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Sam, it’s me.”

“E.J.? What’s up?”

“I’ve got a problem. There’s an incursion in Fairview.”

“You want me to deal with it or watch over Weiss?”

There was a pause.

“I think we’re going to have to risk both of us.”

I swallowed. What kind of incursion would it have to be for E.J. to not watch over Weiss?

“How bad?”

“I don’t know about bad…but it’s big.”

Fairview Hospital.

It had been old when our suburb, which had been classified as on the outskirts, had been enveloped by city expansion and turned into a solid, proper suburb, complete with bypasses so you didn’t need to drive through it anymore just to leave the city.

It had been older still when health and safety officials said it was more of a hinderance than a help to those who went there for treatment yet all that was done was to donate it more technology as if that was ever going to solve its problems.

And then their ominous predictions came true when the electricity switchboard, straining under the demand of all the new equipment, sparked and a fire consumed almost half of it before being brought under control.

It was now a dismal wreck in a large expanse of carparks that were great for donuts and showing off. In fact, there was so much black on the cracked and chipped asphalt that the white lines had all but disappeared.

The hospital had been described as ‘the paddle steamer’. It had been the essence of practicality, a giant rectangular building with a large front entrance smack, bang in the middle and four stories high with wards off both sides. The first storey stretched out far longer than the other stories. The other stories stacked on top of each other were smaller and each one was surrounded by a balcony.

I’d seen pictures of it in its heyday and, if I’m honest, all that was missing from its ‘paddle steamer’ façade was a pair of giant water wheels bracketed onto the sides. It had even had an elevator which, considering the dark ages during when it had been built, would have been seen as witchcraft.

Because of the fire the site was deemed as being dangerous and fenced off…but since someone had broken the gates, possibly in an attempt to replicate some sort of foolish movie stunt and no one had repaired it, the old girl was free for all.

E.J. picked me up and we drove to the site.

“You sure it’s not just kids trying to make a horror movie?” I asked, putting spark grenades in my pocket.

“I wouldn’t leave Weiss for anything less than a certain incursion.”

I checked my lighter and made sure my little silver cross was around my neck. “How is she?”

E.J. shrugged. “I’ve only ever seen her do this once before and honestly, it was far worse.”

“Worse than being hit by a car going a billion miles an hour?”

Was I prone to exaggeration…nah…

“You would have only been about ten at the time of the terrorist attack on the train station.”

The terrorist had been aiming for the heart of the city where the size of the train station and the ridiculous amount of people there at any time of day or night, would have maximised the wounded. But a lowly ticket attendant had paid attention in terrorist spotting class and notified the police…but they couldn’t stop him before he realised he’d been found out…so the bomb went off in suburbia…just two suburbs away from where we were now.

Mum had done her best to shield me from it but when every screen in every home and every classroom was lit up with pictures of the damage that the bomb had done…and the blood splattered walls that were so much more disturbing than anything I’d ever seen in films…

I’d had nightmares for weeks.

“Was it fictional or factional?” I asked.

“The terrorist was fact as was his bomb…but more than the initial damage, the blast started a chain reaction through the underground tunnels for trains which, as I think you know…”

“They’re on top of the fault line?” I shuddered. “We didn’t get earthquakes until after that blast. It’s hard to imagine that a terrorist bomb could have started an earthquake.”

“It didn’t. But all the underground tunnels and foundations of this city go deep into the ground…and one weakened section did cave in…where the community lives.”

I may have let slip a swear word.

The idea that the tunnels where the homeless people lived had come crashing down on them…it was hard enough to be down that deep, let alone with the knowledge that my greatest fears of being buried alive might be possible.

“What did Weiss do?” I whispered.

“What Weiss does.” E.J. pulled into the street that took us to the hospital site. “You know how much she cares for that little community. She risked being seen, the Agency’s wrath to fly there in Valkyrie form to rescue people.”

“What happened?”

“While she was getting people out…a section of tunnel collapsed on and around her.” E.J. swallowed. “It took us two days to dig her out. When we did, she was as she is now, completely still, soaked in light…and she stayed like that…for three months.”

I whistled low and soft. “Did you leave her there?”

“We didn’t dare move her so the community kept watch as best they could. One day the light winked out and Weiss stood up and was well.”

“So…she could be like she is now…for weeks on end?”

“We have no way of knowing.” E.J. pulled up in front of the large dull hulk of Fairview and we got out of the car together. He handed me a walkie talkie. “I don’t know what the reception will be like inside.”

I looked up at the old hospital and steeled my nerves.

This place had ‘horror’ written all over it…

…no seriously, it was graffitied with many obscene and repulsive slogans, most of which were disturbing and horror themed.

Because there’s nothing creepier than an abandoned hospital.

E.J. and I agreed to split up to search inside. Two minutes later I wished I’d been brave enough to confess how scared I was.

Missing ceiling tiles meant pipes and tubing hung down into my face and spiders had used them to create a creepy kind of dreamcatcher. The walls were inscribed with even more graffiti where the wallpaper wasn’t peeling away and even then, some artists had taken advantage of it, painting faces that looked like they were being torn in half. The truth was, in daylight, the hospital wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was a popular spot for amateur film makers to come and attempt another Blair Witch project production. The abandoned hospital was bad enough with random pieces of furniture scattered about, doors hanging off their hingers and broken glass and tiles all over the floor. But when you open a door, your torch glancing off the walls and the words ‘I can see you’, scrawled in red paint, complete with streaks, drips and a puddle of it on the floor, it takes a hardened soul not to freak out.

I was not such a person.

I didn’t freak so much as start shaking even more uncontrollably than I was before.

“E.J.,” I hissed into my walkie talkie, “tell me you got something?”

“It’s not on the first storey. Might be in the basement…”

Oh yes, the basement…in a creepy, abandoned, horror filled hospital…

“Can’t we just set the whole place on fire again?”

“That’s not helpful…and no.”

I hooked the walkie talkie onto my belt and grumbled at E.J., losing something of the horror in my mockery of him.

A split second later, I was sprinting for my life.

I don’t know where it came from and honestly, I didn’t look to find out. The corridor, which had been dismally lit up with my shaking torch light, suddenly became as black as night, a body so large that it filled the expanse, was moving towards me like a wall of water.

I didn’t even have the energy or the time…or the mental capacity to scream.

I turned and ran.

I could hear it slamming into walls, scrabbling at the floor as it tried to pull itself along, heaving with hot, sticky breaths. I fumbled a spark grenade into my hand but dropped it without igniting the damn thing. Sweaty hands and round weapons aren’t a good couple. I didn’t bother trying to kill it. I just tried to outrun it.

Before I reached the main doors, I found a stairwell.

I don’t think there was any conscious thought that went into making the choice to go for the stairs…

I mean, logically, I could argue that the stairs were not particularly wide, certainly not as wide as the corridor and perhaps that would slow or even stop whatever it was chasing me…and that even if I had chosen to run to the front doors and escape into the carpark…it would be able to chase me out there and probably much faster too…

But logic didn’t come into it at all.

Why else would I have chosen to climb three flights of stairs of an abandoned and structurally suspect building when I was limiting my choice of exists with every step of ascension I made?

It’s not as if I’d survive the fall either! This building was built to old world specs which meant twelve foot ceilings so a four storey building would mean a…oh I can’t do maths while on the run!

The worse thing about stairs is that, despite the fact that you’re going higher and higher, you’re still in the same vicinity of the thing that’s chasing you. And in the space where the stairs began, the creature managed to snake a hand or claw up and grab my foot…so I screamed and kicked and tried desperately to use my lighter but I dropped that too.

“Sam! Run!”

I didn’t need E.J. to tell me twice. I ripped myself free as whatever it was roared furiously and, because it couldn’t turn around in its confined space (imagine Elliot in Pete’s Dragon when he’s squashed in the lighthouse), it opted to continue to chase me instead.

I sprinted up and up, finally getting my hands on a door handle that gave way and let me out of the damn building.

Funnily enough I’d climbed into the little building at the very top of the hospital, almost like the pilot house of the paddle steamer, and ran onto the roof. Never mind that I was standing on four stories of structurally unsound building, I put some distance between me and the little hut when a giant flash of light went up and I stumbled backwards, flinching away from the brightness only to see a silhouette on the rooftop with me.

I had to blink away the spots in my eyes, peering hard at the spot I thought I’d seen a person.

I heard her before I saw her.

“Stay back!”

“It’s alright,” I rubbed my eyes and shook my head as if that ever helped anyone recover from temporary blindness, “it’s gone.”

“Leave me alone!”

“I’m not what was chasing you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Finally my vision returned and I was able to see the form of the girl. She wasn’t very tall and not slender. Her hair pulled free of its lank ponytail, her expression stricken and pained and she was…

I paused.

She was far too close to the edge of the building…

“Hey,” I said in a gasp, my skin going cold, “why don’t you…come over here…”

“Stay away from me!”

I stopped moving forward because every time I did, she inched closer to the lip of the hospital.

“You don’t want to do this…”

“You don’t know me!”

She was angry. She was frightened.

But more than that. She stank of despair.

It was all over her, the resolve, the brokenness.

No, I didn’t know her…but I recognised her.

“What’s your name?” I asked gently.

She wasn’t crying. I think she’d finished crying by the time she’d decided to do this. Her tears hadn’t accomplished anything so she climbed up here, ready to end it.

“What does it matter?”

I thought frantically. What did matter when you were willing to give up on life?

“I’ll need to contact your family…”

Her face hardened into fury.

“They don’t care. No one cares.”

“I care.”

“You don’t know me!”

“I’m Sam,” I blurted, “Sam Baker.”

“Well, Sam Baker,” her lips curled down into a sneer, “where were you when I needed you? Where was anyone when I needed them?!” Her hands were in fists, shaking. Her eyes glanced down and I did a quick calculation in my head. If she tipped herself over the edge, I wouldn’t reach her in time. I was too far away. “My parents told me to toughen up. My teachers told me to stop being so sensitive. I don’t want to live in this world anymore…it hurts…it hurts too much…”

I snuck an extra inch closer to her and then another, stopping when she looked up, her eyes blazing.

“He promised me I’d have revenge.”

I froze. “He?”

“You wouldn’t believe me. He’s my demon. My familiar.” She looked down again and I saw that, at her feet, was an open book, candles and a pentagram. “He said my death would have meaning. That they wouldn’t get away with it!” Suddenly her expression caved in and sorrow poured out anew. “He lied! He used me and threw me aside.”

“He’s a bastard!” I cried, seeing she was winding up for the big finish. “Please!”

“They all use me…for their own ends…”

I lunged for her.

Screw talking someone down from the ledge. I was going to wrestle her to the ground if I had to.

But I was too far…

…and my fingers caught nothing but air.