Felix’s love bite is gone the next morning.

Not healing, not faded – just gone. As if it was never there in the first place.

I run my fingers over the smooth patch of skin, still feeling the touch of his cold lips.

If it weren’t for Alastaire seeing the mark and losing his shit over it, I might have thought I’d imagined the whole thing.

Great. Yet another lovely incident to add to the long list of ‘Impossible Things That Can’t Be Happening To Me But Somehow Are.’

Unfortunately, the other, older bruise over my ribcage is still right where it was, as darkly purple and painful as ever.

Even though there’s no longer a need for me to cover up, I still choose a high-necked skater dress with a button-up collar. My neck and shoulders are totally hidden, and I won’t have to wonder if Felix or Alastaire thinks I’m some kind of invincible quick-healing mutant or something.

By the time I get downstairs, the late morning sun is already streaming through the stained glass window in the living room. I walk over to it, noticing how the sparkling light creates the illusion of movement as I move nearer.

The silver tailed girl is surrounded by her five captors, or suitors, depending on how optimistic one wants to be. The dark-cloaked figure, the golden-winged angel, the sea bandit, the faery warrior, the knight. Now that I know the stained glass window is my gran’s handiwork, it’s obvious that the figures are from the myth she told me as a child.

The sea maiden and her five princes.

But actually, that’s not quite right. Gran said that there was only one prince in the story, but his nature varied from telling to telling. So only one of these characters is the true prince – the rest are fakes, false versions, decoys – shadows, of what might have been but wasn’t.

Why did gran create this stained glass window? Why did she even tell me the story in the first place? Did she intend for me to someday, somehow, find it?

I wonder if the boys have noticed their own uncanny similarity to the figures in the stained glass tableau.

Part of me is tempted to just lay my cards on the table – I could gather the boys and Kitty, and tell them everything. Everything that’s happened, and everything that I suspect is happening. And then I’ll demand some answers.

There are three problems with that approach however. Firstly, I want to avoid telling the boys about the bus, about Evan and Mia and the others. It was one thing telling Kitty, but sharing the secret further… it’s too much. Too raw. Too personal. Too soon. Second problem – the boys might not have any idea what’s going on anyway, and they’re as much in the dark as I am. In which case they’ll either think I’m lying or insane when I start talking about ghosts and angels. Third problem – even if they do know something, they could simply decide to play ignorant. After all, it’s not like they have to tell me anything they don’t want to. I need more information, and once I have a better idea of what I’m dealing with I’ll confront the boys.

The only person left who’s likely to know the truth is Bea. Besides her and gran being besties for as long as I can remember, there’s her connection to the cabin. Not to mention the strange way she was acting when she showed up at my house three weeks ago with a basket of apples.

I’ll have to visit her today. Otherwise, the unanswered questions are going to drive me crazy.

“There ye are!” Lyall says, popping his head through the living room doorway . “We’ve been wonderin’ when ye were plannin’ on joinin’ us down in de recordin’ studio. Late night?”

I shake my head, silently grateful that the others clearly don’t know about my midnight bird-watching adventures in Alastaire’s bedroom.

Thank god. They would have gotten totally the wrong idea.

“Come on down when yer ready,” Lyall says. “There’s coffee on de stove.” He disappears down the hallway.

I walk over to the large bay window at the far end of the kitchen and look out into the clearing. Kitty’s out in her veggie patch again, her wide-brimmed hat bobbing up and down as she works. She’s probably pulling up dandelions or picking strawberries or something like that.

When I first met her, there’s no way I would have suspected she was the nurturing type. People are full of surprises. Sometimes good, sometimes bad.

“CUPCAKE! STOP FAFFING AROUND AND COME DOWN HERE AT ONCE! LYALL SAYS HE SAW YOU! COME DOWN HERE BEFORE I GO UP THERE AND FETCH YOU!”

Alastaire’s shouting rings through the cabin, made all the more impressive by the fact that he’s in a soundproof room.

Just how loud do you have to be yelling for the sound to carry through re-enforced noise-cancelling walls? Jeesh.

Deciding to skip coffee, I make my way down the hallway to the study, through the purple door behind the faded forest tapestry, and down the narrow steps to the recording studio.

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I stand in the doorway for a moment before stepping into the control room. The boys are in the next room, separated from me by a glass screen. I watch them for a moment, struck again by the unreality of the situation.

All in all, it’s been just over a month since Fable came crashing into my life. I’ve spent hours every day for the past few weeks in this recording studio with them, working tirelessly on the new album. It should feel normal by now, and I shouldn’t still be so star-struck.

But as I watch Alastaire idly strumming his electric guitar, and Felix standing darkly in front of his mic looking every bit the beautiful, wicked rocker I worshipped on YouTube and Tumblr, I feel a lump rising in my throat.

All my dreams. All my nightmares.

Felix spots me staring through the glass.

Come here, he mouths.

So I swallow down my nerves and walk into the recording room.

“We’re at the third chorus in Lillith,” he says, his hazel eyes flickering as his lip curls in a slight smile. “You can join from here.”

He gestures to my acoustic guitar, in its normal spot between Ben’s drums and Lyall’s keyboard.

No mention of what happened last night in the bathroom. Although that’s hardly surprising.

The events of yesterday evening flash into my mind as I pick up my guitar – Felix's fingers unwrapping the towel, his lips against my skin.

“Sleep well, Cupcake?” Alastaire asks with a wink as I walk past him. I nod slowly, relieved that he’s not mad after all, even though I stormed out of his room after he told me to stay away from Felix.

“Ash love, we were discussin’ how you could sing the second chorus on Harrow,” Lyall says. “Want te try? I’m still dyin’ te hear yer singing.”

“You have heard my singing,” I remind him. “Almost every day.”

“Naw, that’s backup,” Lyall says. “Doesn’t count. I can’t hardly hear ye over Felix. Ye should sing something without his voice cloggin’ up de airwaves. I really want to hear it.”

“Some other time,” I say.

“Promise?” Lyall asks, his light brown eyes suddenly cast down shyly.

“Promise.” I answer, aware of everyone’s eyes on me.

“You two should just get a room already,” Ben says, accenting his snarky remark with a drum roll. SMASH SMASH BOOM BANG. "Seriously Ash, you know what they say about Irish guys."

Lyall’s face turns white, mine turns red.

Felix sends Ben a withering glance, and Alastaire stares at Lyall in alarm.

“Enough messing around,” Felix says. “Let’s do this. From the top. Elliot, tone down the bass after the first verse, it’s getting too heavy. Ashling, take the A major chord at the start down to a B. Let’s go.”

With that, we slip into the music, and the hours fly by. It’s no different to our usual sessions, but something seems off.

From time to time, I notice a glance from Alastaire that seems to linger a moment too long, or Felix’s cold hazel eyes studying my face like I’m a code he’s on the verge of cracking.

Unfortunately, the others aren’t totally oblivious to the situation, and I start to notice worried glances from Lyall. He darts his eyes furtively between myself and Felix and Alastaire, like he’s expecting them to launch into a fistfight at any moment.

Only Ben and Elliot seem totally unaffected. Elliot stoically focuses on his bass like usual, never straying from the consistent, structured pattern of his part, while Ben thrashes about on the drums like a grinning maniac with the same enthusiasm as always.

“Love’s the – what the hell is wrong with you Lyall?” Felix stops singing abruptly and snaps at Lyall behind him. “That’s the third time you’ve missed a note in this song alone. Do you need me to color code your keys or something?”

“Sorry,” Lyall says, smiling apologetically. “Perhaps we ought to be takin’ a break round about now anyways? I could do with some lunch.”

Now’s the time to tell them.

“Speaking about breaks…” I say, as all five boys turn around and listen. “I need to take one. A long one I mean. Long-ish. Not that long. A day. There’s some… stuff I need to do at home. I thought I should head off now, spend the night there, come back tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t –” Felix starts saying, before Lyall interrupts him.

“Sure, why not?” Ben says. “It's not like we're paying you. You go and do your girl stuff. We’ll carry on fixing First Night and lyrics for the The Return. Bring us back some Mickey D's.”

"Yeah, don't feel bad if ye have to go home," says Lyall.

He gazes at me as he says it, and I smile at him, grateful that he’s such a sweetheart of a guy. I notice how once again his brown gaze slips down shyly, as a slight smile curls the edges of his lips.

“Fine,” Felix says, walking to the door of the recording studio. “Be back by nine tomorrow.”

“Sure,” I say.

Elliot, Ben and Lyall follow Felix out the door, until only Alastaire and myself are left.

“Need some company on your walk?” Alastaire asks, as he places his guitar against the wall. “You really shouldn’t be alone out there in the woods.”

He’s smiling at me with that same irresistibly rakish grin he pulls for every photo shoot, every interview. Dashing playboy prince, all easy charm without a care in the world. So far from the sad, sincere, faraway look in his eyes last night as he spoke about his mother.

“No, I’ll be ok,” I say, thinking about how I need to use the time to figure out what exactly I’m going to say to Bea. The last thing I need is a distraction.

The smile slips from Alastaire’s face.

“Cupcake, we need to talk,” he says.

“About what?” Felix says, appearing again the doorway. His voice is low, menacing. “What do you need to talk to Ashling about, Alastaire?”

Alastaire visibly bristles, narrowing his eyes at Felix, before smiling.

“Listening behind doors now?” Alastaire says mockingly. “Scared something’s happening behind your back? Who knew the prince of darkness was such a cowardly little bitch.”

My heart literally skips a beat as Felix and Alastaire stand in silence staring at each other. Felix raises his hand, and I almost scream, expecting him to throw a punch. But instead, he runs his hand through his dark hair, staring boredly at Alastaire as if he’s no more than a slight inconvenience.

“I left my phone in here,” he says. “I came down to get it.”

He brushes past us and walks into the room, and as he does I notice his greenish-brown eyes catch my own.

A sharp pain instantly flares up below the bruised scar on my chest.

Without a second thought, I hurry out of the room, leaving the boys to their business.

They can kill each other for all I care.

As quickly as possible, I gather up my things in my overnight bag, including some laundry for mom. I slip out the door without anyone spotting me.

I know I should walk around the side of the house and say hi to Kitty, and tell her where I’m going, but I already know the boys will let her know I’ve gone home.

I don’t have any more time to lose.

I steal away into the cool shadows of the trees, wondering if I ought to go home and do more research, or find Bea first.

It turns out, however, that it wasn’t my decision to make.

Deep in the dark forest, far from anyone to hear my screams, Bea finds me.