It was Chelsey who broke the news to Wendy. That seemed fitting somehow. Wendy was her Ghost Story after all. A being made to be the incarnation of her fear. One they had somehow domesticated, if that was even the right word.

"He died at the pub when you did... and he didn't come back at 12:01," Chelsey said.

There was a quiver to her voice, like a barely contained sob. Wendy looked confused more than anything.

"What?" she asked.

"He's dead, Wendy," Chelsey answered.

Tears filled her eyes and fell like raindrops. She stumbled back and fell to the floor.

"Dead?" She asked as if she didn't understand the word.

"Yes," Grace finally answered.

Chelsey carefully stepped across the room towards the Ghost Story. There were tears in her eyes, too. She stood next to Wendy and put a hand on her shoulder. Wendy craned her neck to look up at Chelsey. Her face was a twisted mess of grief. It struck Henry that Chelsey seemed the most upset of all of them. That surprised him, but it made sense. Since he had come here, Stevey and Wendy had stuck around each other frequently.

"How did it happen?" Wendy asked.

No one answered her. No one had the heart to do it.

"Tell me," she snarled, "Tell me how he died!"

"It was a Ghost Story… Henry's Ghost Story." Grace said.

"How did he die?" She asked again, more forcefully.

"It beheaded him." Chelsey finally relented.

Wendy growled. It wasn't human. It was a raw, animalistic sound. It sounded like the cry of an elk blended with the snarling of a tiger. The sound sent a chill up Henry's spine. It was a look behind the curtain of Wendy's pleasant face at the monster that hid beneath.

Chelsey didn't seem bothered by it. She sat down next to Wendy and wrapped her in a hug. Wendy hugged her back. The two of them cried together.

"I wondered… I knew something was wrong when I woke up," Wendy cried into Chelsey's shoulder, "But I never imagined this... that he could be dead. It doesn't make sense."

Now, it was their turn to be confused.

"What made you think something was wrong?" Chelsey asked.

"The whispers. The commands in my mind. The ones that tell me to hurt you. They're different, stronger somehow. It's almost like when you touch the wall. Something's changing."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Upon hearing the words, Mark turned and left them, heading down one of the cave tunnels. Henry stood up from the couch and followed after him. He caught Mark in a cave passage that led to his room.

"Mark, we need to talk." Henry said.

"Not now. Later," he replied.

"I know you were lying!" Henry declared.

That got Mark's attention. He turned to study Henry.

"You lied to them. About the others, the ones who came before, you lied."

Mark looked completely taken aback. He turned in a sudden blur of motion. Before Henry realized what was happening, he was pinned against the wall by Mark. Mark slid a small knife from his belt and held it close to Henry's throat. It occurred to him that he may have overplayed his hand. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Mark. What sort of secret was it?

"How could you know that?" He asked, "Who are you?"

"I read you," Henry croaked, "You have a tell. It gives you up. A little scrunch of the nose when you lie."

That was a lie, of course. Henry had to tell him something to keep himself alive. Mark didn't have a tell per se. Henry was just really good at reading people. Mark was actually one of the more difficult people for Henry to pick up on. There was a certain stoicism to him. Henry had mistaken it for earnestness at first, but clearly it was something else—something much more complex. Henry couldn't put a finger on what exactly it was. That frustrated him more than he'd admit.

"Listen to me. You can't tell the others. I could shut you up," Mark said.

He pressed the knife closer to Henry. Henry decided to take a risk. He had one large advantage over Mark. He was still immortal.

"What's that knife going to do? You kill me with it, and I'll just come back, right? I'm pretty sure that would just make things worse for you," Henry pointed out.

A flash of doubt crossed Mark's face. He must have already realized that too.

"Tell me why. Why shouldn't I tell them? You're hiding things again. Last time that got people hurt," Henry asked.

"This is different. There are things they can't know about Paradise. Things I wish I didn't know, believe me," Mark answered.

"I don't believe you. All you've done is lie to me. I can't understand why unless you tell me."

"You say you're good at reading people. So read the truth in this," Mark declared, "All I've ever wanted is to keep everyone safe. I will do anything in my power to do that. Anything. I am hiding this information to keep them safe. To keep them from giving up. They won't understand what I know. You wouldn't either. Hell, I barely understand myself."

He was telling the truth. Henry was sure of it. There was passion in his words. He cared deeply, much more than he showed. Those emotions slipped past the unreadable, stoic mask he so often wore.

"Please Henry. I'm begging you. Don't tell the others. Promise me. If you force me to tell them, things will change. And it will be for the worse."

Again, he was telling the truth. He truly believed what he was saying. Henry had a choice to make. He could trust his gut and keep Mark's secret, or he could tell the others what he suspected. He played over Mark's words in his head. Things will change, and it will be for the worse. It was an ominous threat, and Henry believed it.

"Fine. I won't tell the others, but you can only keep a secret from them for so long," Henry said.

Mark nodded. His shoulders seem to slump with relief.

"I've kept it this long. I don't think I'll have to keep it much longer. One way or another, this is going to end. Thank you, Henry; I won't forget this."

Mark pulled the knife away and put it back in his sheath. He had a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"Sorry for the violence. It was an overreaction," he said.

Henry nervously rubbed at his neck.

"Fuck man, Just don't do it again. I'm hoping to avoid getting stabbed again."

Henry turned away from Mark and headed towards the others. He didn't want to stay close to him on the off chance he changed his mind. Henry hadn't expected such a reaction from him. He walked right past the stone alcove where Grace had hidden to eavesdrop on their argument. He didn't spot her as she pressed tightly to the shadows. She had heard everything.