 
Died Blondes

Jon Jacks

Other New Adult and Children's books by Jon Jacks

The Caught – The Rules – Chapter One – The Changes – Sleeping Ugly

The Barking Detective Agency – The Healing – The Lost Fairy Tale

A Horse for a Kingdom – Charity – The Most Beautiful Things (Now includes The Last Train)

The Dream Swallowers – Nyx; Granddaughter of the Night – Jonah and the Alligator

Glastonbury Sirens – Dr Jekyll's Maid – The 500-Year Circus – The Desire: Class of 666

P – The Endless Game – DoriaN A – Wyrd Girl – The Wicker Slippers

Heartache High (Vol I) – Heartache High: The Primer (Vol II) – Heartache High: The Wakening (Vol III)

Miss Terry Charm, Merry Kris Mouse & The Silver Egg – The Last Angel – Eve of the Serpent

Seecrets – The Cull – Dragonsapien – The Boy in White Linen – Porcelain Princess – Freaking Freak

Coming Soon

Queen of all the Knowing World

Text copyright© 2015 Jon Jacks

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

Thank you for your support.

# Chapter 1

Some sleepover: we'll all be sleeping forever, thanks to Bet's 'just slightly out of date tuna' sandwiches.

Bet, the maid, is downstairs in the kitchen. Just as dead as we are.

Serves her right: thinking she'd help herself to a spare she'd made.

As for who gets the blame – mum for stocking the tuna in the fridge, or Bet for using it – that'll be for the courts to decide, I suppose.

Mind you, we all still manage to look quite pretty as we lie on my bed.

Our blonde hair, well, you know: it all looks very _ethereal_. The way it splays out from our heads across the quilt.

Sort of angelic, in a way. You know, like we've already got our halos prepared. (Then again, all three of us always knew we had absolutely _fabulous_ hair.)

I think we'll make really gorgeous looking angels!

Admittedly, if I'm getting a tiny bit precious about it all – and of course, we always simply _have_ to, if we're seeking to always look perfect – then I'd _have_ to honestly say I _would_ have preferred it if Chloe hadn't worn _that_ top!

It really is _way_ too garish: it clashes with my rather more tastefully tinted bedclothes.

On the other hand, all our makeup's just _so_ right! Thank _God_ we'd been _carefully_ experimenting with all that new Lancôme stuff Pearl had brought over!

It hasn't even smudged! Which, naturally, would have been a sheer _nightmare_!

I wouldn't want to be seen dead in the simplified makeup we're forced to wear at school!

Thankfully, too, there isn't a single stain to be seen on my new translithic zirconia crowns!

My smile looks perfectly beatific!

Oh oh: I've just noticed, though – Chloe has the very _slightest_ of dribbles hanging out of the side of her mouth.

She'd be mortified to see herself like that. If, like me, she's looking down on all this, she'll be wishing there was _something_ she could do about _that_!

Which is a good point, actually.

Where _are_ they?

I mean: I couldn't _bear_ to be parted from them!

*

Wait a minute: do I detect that _I'm_ still breathing?

Yes! I think I am!

Maybe that's why I'm still here, hovering over my bed rather than on my way to heaven.

I'm struggling to hold onto life – isn't that how they talk about things like this in the papers? On the news?

Or is that when stars are struggling against drinking too much? Or doing too many drugs? Or too many women or men, or whatever it is they're addicted to.

_My struggle with my demons._ Yeah, that's it.

So what is it you say to describe how you're fighting against dying?

Oh sh-ugar!

I've just thought!

If I pull through, how's that going to sit with Chloe and Pearl's parents?

Mum's tuna kills their kids. Yet spares me.

The court case could go on for years! All these high-flying lawyers and–

Wow! And what could _possibly_ be wrong with _that_?

I mean, I'll be _famous_!

In the papers! On TV.

Maybe even get myself on the front of some classy mag! Like maybe even _Vogue_!

There'll be appearances on talk shows too, of course! You know, showing how distraught I am over the loss of my best friends. That kind of thing.

Wow, how cool is _that_?

*

Hmn, this is _weird_ : the bit where I'm being drawn back into my body.

It's like putting on some old, frumpy dress you've found in the wardrobe. It all seems a bit too heavy; too tight under the armpits.

Like it could do with a good wash too. Despite the shower I'd had only a couple of hours ago.

_Well. I_ am _glad_ you're _the one that said that!_

Chloe? What're you doing here? This is _my_ body!

_As your mum's tuna's to blame for all this, I think we have_ every _right to be here!_

Pearl? You too? We can't _all_ come back to life in _my_ body!

Well I did say I thought those sandwiches smelt a bit fishy!

It was _tuna_! It's _supposed_ to smell fishy!

_Yeah, but quite obviously, not_ that _fishy!_

Oh come on! Surely you're not going to give _me_ a hard time over this? How about blaming Bet?

At least she's still dead! Whereas you've come out of it all okay!

With a body more cramped with occupants than a downtown slum? I don't _think_ so!

_Have you seen the_ state _of that ceiling?_

Lying on the bed, we're all looking directly up at my bedroom ceiling. Which, now that I'm seeing it like this, I've got to admit wouldn't get us into a _Home And Gardens_ feature.

_No wonder your mum's tuna was so dodgy if_ that's _what she calls cleaning!_

Mum doesn't go around preparing sandwiches on our ceilings, right? Besides, _Bet_ made the sandwiches. _And_ she's responsible for cleaning all–

_Right! So_ there _you are then! Hygiene obviously doesn't rank high in this household._

Why are you too being so _incredibly_ catty all of a sudden?

_Because_ we're _dead, Amina! Or haven't you noticed?_

*

# Chapter 2

After a while, I – or should that now be _we_? – feel well enough to dizzily stumble to my (surely not _our_?) feet.

_Oh, before you call for help – I_ did _notice that I was dribbling a little–_

_A little? I think you mean a lot. Urrghh; totally gross! Tiny bits of tuna_ –

_Yes, yes, thank you, Pearl! That's_ exactly _why I want Amina to tidy me up a little before anybody else sees me!_

Well why she's at it, I did notice that I looked a bit of a fright too, what with–

Don't you two think I should be calling an ambulance? I mean, there might still be a spark of life in–

_There's_ no _spark of life in_ me!

Thanks to your mum's tuna!

_Trust us on this one – there are_ no _signs of life in us!_

_That's_ why _we're all in here._

Personally, I'd much prefer my own bod–

_Amina! I never realised what small_ breasts _you have!_

_That's right! Do you pad out_ –

She does, she does!

_And I_ never _knew!_

Oh this is terrible, terrible!

I wish I were dead!

*

Naturally, Chloe and Pearl's parents seem to wish I were dead too.

At the funerals, they don't look exactly ecstatic that I'm still wandering around. Not while their own little darlings are lying all prim and proper in silk-lined caskets.

(In case anyone out there's bothering to wonder, Bet's funeral wasn't quite so plush or well attended. Bit of a bore, really. But naturally, everyone accepted my excuse that I was wearing my headphones because I was still all _way_ too emotional to listen to the speeches and what have you.)

The thing about the funerals is that they're complete eye-openers when it comes to revealing how our parents see us. Or at least, like to _think_ of us.

We're still little more than toddlers, far as they're concerned.

All these photographs they put on show; all sixteen-going-on-twelve sorta shots. They've really dredged up _the_ most sickly shots out of their albums. There are My Favourite Ponies everywhere, along with ringlets and sparkly headbands.

Horror of horrors, they even have shots of us all playing together _before_ we had blonde hair!

Unbelievable!

And the _tunes_ they play!

They're supposedly C and P's favourites. Which they might well have been when they around _three_!

I'm surprised they haven't included one of those songs complete with animal noises. All a moo, moo there, an oink oink here. Or sung by chipmunks, with higher-pitched voices than someone dieting on helium.

The bodies are laid out with the most _hideous_ makeup. Like it's all been layered on by some brats with their first Makeup Doll Head!

( _I have_ never _worn eye shadow like_ that _!_ )

I'll never live it down. At least Chloe and Pearl are dead. _They_ don't have to suffer the repercussions from all this!

Most of the kids from school are filing past all this trying to hide their sniggers.

Sure, they've all got all their 'oh it's all so sad' expressions off to a pat. Some of 'em too, I reckon, are even pretty genuine about it all, bless their cotton socks.

But as soon as they think no one's watching, out comes the raised eyebrows, the horrified grimaces, the mumbled 'oh-my-God's.

Me, I'm sitting there trying to look all grief-stricken while C and P constantly harp on about how I should be rushing around changing it all! Every now and again there's an argument about who's drawn the best of the right-on crowd.

Normally any disagreement like this is one I'd try and keep out of. Keep schtum about my own opinions. But it's not easy doing that when you're like the corner of the room they've chosen to settle their tiff in.

What am I supposed to do?

I mean, if we were glorious angelic beings, we could simply hover unseen by Tyler Robins and see what he _really_ thinks, couldn't we? But as everyone's decided to set up home in my body, well, every time Tyler sees me he puts on the required 'oh it's all so sad' frown, doesn't he?

So I've no idea what his _real_ thoughts on all this could be.

If you need to know all this, I grumble to C and P, why don't you just go flying off somewhere to check up on him? You can always come back later: it's not like I'm going anywhere.

If we could, we would!

But we're trapped here now, it seems.

But you're _spirits_! There's got to be _some_ advantage in that!

Maybe there would've been if we hadn't all rushed into your skinny body.

I'm _not_ skinny. It's just that _I_ keep to my diet!

_If you're trapped in a body, you're not a_ true _spirit, are you?_

Spirits aren't bound by space and time!

Oh, so where'd you read this, Dr Einstein?

I _do_ read, you know! It was those really famous books; you know, the _WhiteWraith_ 's trilogy? Well, I read two of them anyway: well, one and a half.

And that's our sum knowledge of how it works in the spirit world, is it?

_I saw the first_ Harry Potter _movie._

Just great; you could have all these like amazing spirit superpowers for all we know! We could be out saving the world! Even have a superhero comic named after us!

A collector's figure! They'd make one of them of us!

And a movie! Who'd play us, do you think?

Charlize Theron?

Dream on, Amina.

_Yeah, if it had been_ my _body we'd all got together in,_ then _–_

Wait, wait! Look who's here _again_!

No way!

Yes way!

It's Graham Forest; showing up at Pearl's funeral, just as he had at Chloe's.

Graham thick-as-a Forest.

As if we hadn't made his poor life miserable enough – and, let's face it, it was already pretty miserable before we showed up in his life. (When you've had a near death experience, it makes you revalue your own life and admit that, you know, maybe you _weren't_ exactly good for _every_ single second.) Yet here he is once more; weeping and all quivering-anxiety, like he's mourning the loss of his very best friends.

_Hey, maybe we_ were _his best friends!_

Yuk!

I mean, I could understand it if he was here to gloat!

Maybe he was some sort of closet masochist all along.

_You mean maybe he_ enjoyed _our teasing? That takes_ all _the fun out of it!_

Come on guys: at least he's shown up for your funerals!

Yeah, unlike that good for nothing Drake!

_Dave, he's called_ Dave _– he just_ calls _himself Drake!_

_He_ prefers _Drake!_

Yeah, like I prefer Nefertiti – but unfortunately, it doesn't work that way, does it?

_Okay, okay; but look, is_ Graham _really the sort you want at your funeral?_

God no!

Look at him though: he looks _genuinely_ upset!

It's true: Graham always manages to look like he's the loneliest man in the world. Today, however, he looks like he truly believes he's the last and only man left alive.

He's the sort who nervously shuffles around everywhere: looks startled as soon as someone talks to him. But here he's just about tearing his hair out. Weeping and mumbling deliriously to himself.

It's all an act!

_No one can act that good! Not even – who_ is _the hottest actor around at the moment?_

Perhaps, you know, he's just remembering everything we ever did to him. Poor geek!

_Hmn, I suppose that_ would _make anyone breakdown in tears._

_You know, we really_ weren't _very nice people, were we?_

_I suppose we_ could _be pretty scandalous._

Hmn, yeah...

That's enough re-evaluating for today, don't you think?

Yeah!

Re-evaluating? I thought it was _revaluing_?

*

If the funerals weren't to our liking, the investigation into who was responsible for the killer tuna was, in Chloe's words, 'a travesty.'

I know what you mean! Nothing like you see on TV; not one decent guy amongst them!

_Actually I meant that_ _Amina's mum got off scot free!_

Weren't you listening? Mum said it was _fresh_!

Sure it was fresh! When it was caught ten years ago!

_And weren't_ you _listening to the bit where Dr Buttface said it was laced with anti-histoemean something or other?_

_Yeah,_ something _that's not good for you!_

I think, Chloe, that you mean Dr _Rutledge_.

So are you saying you didn't even see his face?

I'm saying this doctor said Mum's tuna _should_ have been fine.

Only it wasn't; hence why we're all here, right?

_Or, Amina, are you saying_ every _tuna sandwich produces results like this?_

He couldn't explain how it ended up giving everyone scumboy or whatever it was poisoning!

As we're filing out – sorry, as _I'm_ walking out – of the hall used to announce the verdict (leaving Mum and Dad behind to have yet another scuffle with C and P's parents), we all spot Graham forest sneaking off through some nearby bushes.

What's he doing here?

He's not allowed in, is he–

I think she means, why's he want to know who's been held responsible for your deaths?

_But he_ couldn't _hear, could he? As I've just pointed out, he's not allow–_

He's wearing headphones.

Oh yeah.

Who but the school's resident geek would know how to set up some way of listening in?

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

_Sure! He's got turn-ups! And they're_ way _too high above his sandals._

No! I mean who do we know who'd know how to turn fresh tuna into a killer with these – these whatever they ares?

The school's resident, know-it-all geek.

_But_ why _would he want to kill us?_

This is the bit where, normally, we'd be turning to gawk at Chloe. But, of course, we can't.

_Why_ shouldn't _he kill us! Which day out of the last three years do you want me to recall to prove a possible motive?_

_Hey, you're right! I always knew there was_ something _about that guy I didn't like!_

*

Perhaps we should just gang up on him and force him t–

There aren't three of us anymore: not really, anyway.

Yeah, there's just _me_.

And she's just a titch.

_Now if it had been_ you _, Chloe–_

I am so totally _not_ a titch! I'm only a few inches smaller than you – well, than you _were_ , anyway.

_Amina, we've now_ seen _you checking your height in the bathroom mirror, remember?_

_You_ should _remember, 'cos we we're complaining that–_

Oh, so you two _never_ went to the bathroom, right?

_Sure, Amina; but normally I'd be showering in my_ own _body, thanks!_

_And we're only trying to make sure you dress in the right things! Rather than that_ horrendous _top we've never liked!_

What do they say about never moving into the same place with friends? Well I know _precisely_ what they mean now!

Look, look! Girls, girls! We've got to stop being mean to each other, right? We need to figure out some way of stopping whatever Graham's up to, right?

_Which we've_ never _done before, right?_

And it's a bit late to stop the bit where he kills you two.

_But if it_ is _Graham, then he tired to kill all_ three _of us._

Oh my God, you're right!

Which means he might _still_ be trying to kill me!

_Which means he_ finally _kills all_ three _of us!_

*

# Chapter 3

Sure, we admit it; in our time, we _have_ been just a _little_ bit mean to Graham.

But to _kill_ us?

That's an all-new level of being mean!

It's hardly _petty_ revenge.

See, _petty_ revenge is fine in our book. Who doesn't indulge in that every now and again?

Such as setting fire to someone's history note books.

Or making sure someone's science experiment produces the wrong results; you know, changing a few chemicals around, that sort of thing?

Or leaving an old, crumbly chocolate biscuit in someone's school bag. So it gets all over their homework books.

Which we've _all_ done to Graham, at some point.

Along with ensuring any scandal at school somehow pointed back to him as the one being responsible.

Like spreading a little white lie that he was seen out with our best friend Fleur Knightsbridge. (But that was more of a slur on Fleur than Graham. And, in our defence, Fleur isn't our best friend any longer!)

We could go on and on.

And indeed we did. Day after day.

But just how _boring_ can school be unless there's someone you know who's going to help brighten up your day?

So, okay – let's be totally _honest_ with ourselves here.

Let's re- _evaluate_ our lives, our past _mistakes_.

God – we were absolutely _terrible_ to the poor guy!

What _were_ we thinking?

No _wonder_ he thought we deserved to die!

*

'Graham: look, I'm sorry about everything we did to you. We were mean, especially Chloe–'

_Wait a minute! What do you mean,_ especially _Chloe?_

Well you were the one who–

_Look, I'm all for apologising to the poor guy! But_ not _if I'm the one who takes the rap for_ everything _!_

Okay, okay, Chloe! But that's why I'm _practising_ what I'm going to say! This isn't going to be _easy_ , you know!

Well just avoid being specific, using any names! How hard is that?

Maybe we should just–

He's here, he's here! Just no names, okay?

I've been waiting outside the university, where we know Graham will be. He's allowed to attend special classes there, even has a section of a science studio he's allowed to call his own. All on account of his frankly weird understanding of science. Oh, and a particularly large, regular donation from his parents to the university funds.

'Graham! I'm _really_ sorry about everything we did to you. We now realise – I mean, _I_ now realise–'

Graham flinches, jumps back like he's expecting some horrendous trick to be played on him at any moment.

_Oh God, we_ did _unnerve him, didn't we?_

He's glancing nervously over my shoulder, like he's expecting Chloe and Pearl to suddenly leap out at him.

Admittedly, when it comes to looking you straight in the eye, Graham's one of these who'd rather peer at a spot on his shoe. Either that or something staining the pavement over to your left. Anything but converse with you like any regular human being.

But today, it's different. Sure, he's not looking at me, but he's looking just about everywhere else that he can. Like he's nervous. Like he's expecting something _really_ bad to happen any minute now.

Now, Graham could hardly be described as the hottest guy on the planet; not even if global warming went global could you even think of him as being even slightly warm. But right now the way his glasses magnify his eyes makes him look like some poor little lemur about to be devoured by some lemur-eating animal.

He grabs my arm, so tightly I'm worried he's about to wrench it off. Maybe even use my own bloody limb to beat me about the head.

'Amina, I'm sorry! I'm _really_ sorry about what happened to poor Chloe and Pearl!'

And as the guy says it, we all notice he's in tears.

Tears of sorrow, tears of fear. He's shaking like he's freezing.

He's constantly glancing about us, like he's worried someone might be listening in.

'I honestly didn't mean it to end up like this, I–'

'Graham? What do you mean: you didn't mean it to end like this?'

'I mean, I mean – it wasn't me! I swear it wasn't me! If I could change it all bac– it was the Rye Man, Amina! Watch out for the Rye Man!'

Wry man? Who's that? Some guy with an amused face?

Doesn't wry mean sceptical or something?

So watching out for a guy with a sceptical face makes more sense that one with an amused one, right?

' _Why_ do I need to watch out for him? Who is he?'

Graham's still looking everywhere about us, as if he figures this wry guy killed C and P and he's going to come out and slaughter us both at any moment.

'Have you ever heard of the Slender Man?' he asks.

As soon as he says 'Slender Man', he acts like this is a big mistake. Akin to calling up the Devil just by mentioning his name.

The Slender Man's just a made up character!

Yeah, just made up photos of him on the web.

All ominous looking; hanging around kiddies' playgrounds, things like that!

'The Slender Man doesn't _really_ exist!' I say to him.

'I know _that_!' he snaps, almost snapping my arm off at the same time. He's still gripping it tightly, nervously. 'But the _Rye_ Man; he _really_ exists! A _real life_ Slender Man!'

'A guy who sneaks kids away?'

'Worse, worse! I just mean he's like the Slender Man because you can never know where he really is! He just appears out of nowhere! Watching us all the time!'

Wow, he's cracked!

We broke the poor guy!

His grip on my arm tightens. I'd never have guessed flabby Graham was so strong.

'Amina: he's coming after you next! I _know_!'

*

# Chapter 4

Is he totally crazed, do you think?

When Graham had at last let go of my arm, he'd dashed off before I'd had any chance to ask him any more questions.

As he'd run away, he'd once again spent all his time nervously glancing about himself. Keeping an eye out for this Wry Man.

Got to be; why else would he believe in this Wry Man creep otherwise?

Yeah, I mean; that's like believing in spirits and the spirit world!

Amina! Please don't tell us you believe him?

It's just an excuse! Obviously he knows we're on to him! So he's trying to put us off the scent.

And if he's right? And this Wry Man's coming after me – after _us_?

But why would this Wry Man be after us anyway?

Maybe it's someone from our past: you know, like you see in these superhero comics.

Someone whose mind we warped many years ago?

Think girls, think! Is there anybody who fits that description?

Thinking's hardly our strongest point – not like an effortless sense of style, of knowing what's right in the all-important fashion stakes. But no matter how hard we think about it, we still can't come up with anybody we've treated worse than Graham.

_It_ has _to be Graham! This Wry Man's just a figment of his imagination!_

So how do we find out what he's up to – and make sure he doesn't get to kill Amina?

Maybe staying out of his way?

That's hardly what Charlie's Angels would do, is it?

So what would they do – apart from wishing they were all at least fifty years younger?

They'd search his school locker!

*

We've done this before.

Many times.

See, the locks on these things are really pretty simple. If you ever check the keys against each other, you'll see there's hardly any difference between them

All it takes is a little filing, and _voila_ – you're a master safe breaker!

Of course, we took the easy way out and just pinched one of Graham's spares.

Sure, he accused us of taking it. He's not really stupid, even though we like calling him thick-as-a forest.

But when you're blonde and pretty, you just open your eyes wide, put on an innocent face: and no one could believe you would ever do such a thing.

Especially, of course, your parents. Who start accusing the school of picking on their daughters.

Now before you start thinking ill of us, maybe it's time to point out that Graham himself isn't simply this geeky, intelligent know-it-all everyone thinks he is.

He's also snidey, sneaky – and, frankly, all a bit twitchy and bitter.

We first had to break into his locker because someone was taking photos of us looking either miserable or angry and posting printouts around school.

Now, okay; so we _didn't_ find anything linking him to all this. But we _did_ find the weirdest diagram you've ever seen!

He'd called it 'The Warped World'.

He must've used some sort of stencil to draw all these boys and girls in columns. Then he'd used their hair colour and length to give some idea of which girl and boy at school each was supposed to represent.

He'd drawn connecting lines between the girls and the boys, probably, we reckoned, showing who had gone out with whom.

Of course, most of the boys shown there didn't have any linking lines at all.

There were only a handful of them who had more than one link. And the more links a boy had, the more they were likely to be links to what we presumed must be the better looking girls, as these also had the most links.

Hardly rocket science, right?

But the more lines that connected to a girl, the harder the hatching of the pen had become. Until he was almost cutting the paper to shreds.

If the diagram _was_ for some school project, we really really wouldn't like to know which one.

As far as we know, there aren't any 'Why we hate girls' classes being held.

We lied, told him we'd seen him drawing his diagram. Told him, too, that we'd taken a photo of him on our cellphones.

If the photos of us kept on appearing, we warned him, then we would post our own photos.

That was it; the photos of us stopped appearing.

When I open the locker again, at first glance it looks like the diagram's still there, unchanged.

But when I take it out, it's been re-titled.

It's now 'The Forest Revolution'.

And what do you know.

There are three blondes on here with funeral crosses drawn completely across them

*

# Chapter 5

Of course, C and P are furious.

Since when did I go out with Brian Morrow?

_Oh, you_ so _did! But what about me? Where's my link to Kearen Kemp?_

Girls, girls: I think we're dealing with one sick individual here!

Too true! I can't believe he thinks Trudy Fisher went out with Tyler!

Wait! Look, what's this?

I'm scrabbling through Graham's mass of useless books to get to what I think I've seen right at the back – yes, I was right!

A video camera!

My God! What will he have on there?

_It'd better not be_ us _again!_

It's got a memory stick...

'What do you think you're doing in my locker again?'

I whirl around. It's Graham, rushing down on me like one of those bulls you see photographed in Spanish streets, goring these poor people even though they'd only just popped off down to the mall.

'Oh, er, hi Graham, I, er...'

Tell him to get lost!

Tell him the locker was open!

'Er, it was open, see?'

To prove it, I tweak the locker's door.

It doesn't seem to do the trick. He glowers, snatches the video camera off me.

'Thief!'

Tell him things were hanging out! You didn't want it stolen!

'Things were hanging out! I thought someone might take them!'

My puppy dog eyes – well, if puppy dogs had green eyes, anyway – work on anyone but Graham Forest.

He still glares at me, still snorts down his nose like some dragon about to devour an innocent maiden.

I think he's going to kill me right here and now. He doesn't want to wait until he's got another killer tuna sandwich.

Please please send some hero to rescue me right now, please please!

'Are you okay?'

A young guy's stepped alongside us both. He's managing to both look at me concernedly and glare at Graham like he'll rip his arms off as soon as I give the word.

It's James Dean!

No, Austin Ames!

No it isn't, idiots!

It's Aaron Samuels.

My dream man!

Your dream man's Drake!

'Who're you?' Graham asks him snottily.

'It doesn't matter who I am: what matters is what you're doing to...'

He looks at me with wonderfully blue eyes.

Sparkling grey!

More like amber!

'Amina.'

'Hi, I'm Adam!'

The first man: figures!

'Adam and Amina.'

God no, Amina! You just said that out loud!

Thankfully, he smiles. Like he thinks, like me, there's a nice ring to it.

'Hello, am _I_ still here?' Graham storms.

'I don't know? Are you? And if so, why?'

'Because it's _my_ locker she's been–'

'She's been closing so no one steals your things!'

I look Graham's way, eyes wide, innocent as a newborn babe in arms.

And as I stand with the gorgeous Adam, I really do wish I were the new babe in _his_ arms!

*

Wow, who was that?

Going by his overalls, I reckon he's with the maintenance staff.

Bit young for that isn't he?

Well, he's not at school, is he? Unless he's been allowed to set a whole new dress code.

If he can dress like that and look so amazing, I'm all for it.

But if he's maintenance, that means he might not be back! They go from school to school: whichever needs it most.

Well what are we waiting for? Let's start trashing the school!

Under Adam's hard stare, Graham had grumpily retreated after making sure I'd put his camera back and slammed the door shut.

Seeing the successful conclusion of his heroic mission, Adam gave me this huge grin – then turned and walked away.

Quick, say something, you dope!

What, what do I say?

Anything!

But it was too late. He'd gone, slipping round the corner leading out into the hall.

Shugar!

Bit late for that now, Joan Rivers!

Mission Impossible: get a date with the first new, really good-looking guy we've seen in ages – and he doesn't even come to our school!

We don't know where he lives! Where he's from! Anything about him.

Wait! I forgot to tell you what I managed to sneak into my pocket!

_You got his_ wallet _?_

Way to go, Artful Dodger!

No, no: not his wallet – this!

I proudly hold up the memory stick I'd managed to pocket without _anyone_ noticing.

_The guy has a_ memory stick _with all his details on?_

Not him; _Graham's_. It's from his _camera_!

*

# Chapter 6

_I still think you'd have been better stealing_ Adam's _memory stick or phone, maybe–_

Oh, and that would really endear me to him, would it? 'Oh hi, you might be wondering how I got your address, and what happened to your phone, but...'

As chat up lines, that's up there with...well, with whatever's not really very high up!

You could have said he'd dropped it; so you were bringing it back.

Damn! Yes!

_I saw the way he looked at you, Amina._ Definitely _interested!_

You think so?

Know so.

He'll be back; how can he resist? Especially now your only real rivals are out of the way!

Not only out of the way, but even helping you land him!

How can we fail?

Oh oh, geek at four o'clock! On our tail.

It's true: Graham's storming back towards us, head down, his eyes darting suspiciously from side to side. Like he's watching out for Adam rushing to help his damsel in distress once more.

'Amina, look,' he blurts out as soon as he reaches us, 'you shouldn't trust that boy! I think there's something wrong wit–'

'Something wrong? With _him_?'

Good one girl!

_Knock him outa the ring_!

You've got him reeling!

'Graham, we've – I've – just seen your _new_ diagram!'

'It was...was a _mistake_!'

'A _mistake_? So _that's_ what you call drawing crosses all over me, Pearl and Chloe, is it? Two of us are _dead_!'

'Look, please, please don't say _anything_ about that! I'll leave you alone, honest I will!'

He starts striding off, head down like a sore bull once more.

He glances over his shoulder.

'But – stay away from _him_! Or else I can't help you!'

*

_Can you_ believe _that jerk?_

_The best looking boy we've seen in ages, and that dork tells us – tells_ you _– to stay away from him?_

_How_ dare _he?_

Who does he think he is?

He thinks he's Tom Cruise.

Tom Cruise? How're you so sure – oh, yeah.

I've put Graham's memory stick into my laptop at home. I've been accessing all the links, brought up the video he's been putting together.

Oh creepstreet in creepsville.

_In the world's_ creepiest _country!_

*

I stay far enough back on the street so that no one notices us watching. (In an area as ridiculously wealthy as this, people tend to notice anyone who doesn't live there.)

The police have called round at Graham's house; thank God.

We'd posted the memory stick to them, along with a note saying we'd found it out on this street.

Even the police couldn't fail to make the links. To see that Graham has got to be put away. For the sake of every girl in town.

It wasn't just Tom Cruise that Graham wanted to be like. It wasn't even that he wanted to be every good-looking movie hero around.

There were also those movies where the nerdy guy gets the drop-dead gorgeous girl at the end.

He was re-enacting all the scenes where, despite their stupidity and downright nerdiness, these guys eventually get the woman of their dreams.

Sure, like it really happens like _that_ , Graham!

These movies are only a short step up from pornos. The way they portray these guys making some dim girl flop all over them like kids' puppets.

Graham's well-rehearsed in these re-created shots. Never stumbling over his words, confidently talking to camera in a way he's never managed in real life.

He's quite smoothly dressed too when he needs to be. Like the movie-stars gone wrong. Some bizarre world where every guy's really ugly but there aren't any even slightly ugly women.

It must have cost him a fortune, all the dressing of the shot, the replication of it all. Though there's one heck of a lot of digital copying and computer graphics gone into it too. As well as splicing in shots of the girls, cars, and what have you from the original movies or even games.

Most of the scenes begin with actual footage from the movie, the real actor playing the part. Then, like they're caught up in something like Star Trek's transporter beam, they begin to break up, to pixilate. Until they simply vanish. Next thing you know, Graham's version of them is 'beamed in' to replace them.

It's one hell of an achievement.

A very sick hell.

So what's sick about replicating a few movie shots?

Well, for a start, it isn't a 'few': it's seemingly endless actually.

God knows how long he's been putting this thing together.

It's been an obsession. No wonder no one's ever seen him outside of school. Unless he's been out shooting for his video, he's been locked in his room. In front of his editing suite.

Jeezus; he wishes life was like it was in the movies– all sex, fun and pleasure even for the geeks like him. Am I reading all this right?

It had been Chloe's comment, but I had to agree with it.

Graham's movie, however, got worse as it went on.

He starts slipping in his own lines, rather then just keeping to those of the character he's playing.

Bits about him being moved from school to school. Never having any chance to become part of a group of real friends.

When he comes to girls, we're all fools, we're all shallow, for chasing after the hot guys while geeks like him are the real nice ones. The ones who'd really care for their girlfriends.

'Why not _me_? Why can't _I_ have a girlfriend?'

Sure, he repeats that a lot. You could feel sorry for him, if that was as far as it went.

As in any movie, he's the good guy; the unappreciated guy, the misunderstood guy. The outcast who's unfairly rejected time after time. Until, at last, he gets to prove that he's the only one who's been telling the truth all along

But what a truth he has to tell.

He doesn't know why he's _still_ being turned down by the girls: it can only be, of course, because they're stupid.

So they deserved to be punished. Along, too, with the good-looking guys who make them act like fools. Who won't have anything to do with him.

He would show at last that _he_ is the 'true alpha male'. And he'd do it the same way they do it in the movies: when the road runs out for them, they go out in a blaze of glory, taking as many other people with them as they can.

As in the earlier shots, all the girls each begin to pixilate, as if caught up in Captain Kirk's transporter beam.

But they're never replaced by anyone. They just writhe in agony, shrieking. Like they're really just being obliterated.

It's a snuff movie, in its way: and its mainly blonde girls like me, Chloe and Pearl who end up getting snuffed out.

*

# Chapter 7

Why the hell did they let him go?

_We should have included the diagram – the police obviously_ did _need a diagram to have it all explained to them!_

I'll get it from his locker.

_You can't say_ that _was found in the street!_

Maybe we can work that out later? Say he'd left it lying around?

Wow, the most careless killer in history! Memory sticks out in the street. Diagrams left for anyone to find. Confession letters stapled to the forehead of the Chief Constable.

Wait a minute; something you said there! It made me realise why I've always thought there was something odd about Graham's video.

Something _odd? Would that be the bit where he mixes in the game sequences showing him cutting heads of girls in the streets? Or, maybe, the sections where so there's much blood you wonder if you need to readjust your monitor's colour settings?_

Sure, sure; it's all terrible, we all know that! But I mean there was something bugging me that we were still missing _something_!

Well it's sure missing shots of happy families.

No, no: I mean we found it in his camera!

_A video in a camera? Wow, that_ is _unusual, Amina!_

Cut the sarcy tone: I mean it's an _edited_ video. Not a raw set of shots you'd expect to be in a camera. You take raw shots; _then_ take them back to be edited.

_Since when did_ you _turn into Sherlock Holmes?_

Since when I realised I might be the next to be killed. And the edited film in the camera is probably proof that Graham still regards me as a target.

Now you have lost me, Inspector Poriot.

Think about it. It means he doesn't think it's a _completed_ movie! He has at least one more scene to shoot: the ending.

Your death, you mean?

That still doesn't make sense. As you've just said, he'd shoot it; take it back to be edited.

Not if he's planning on going out in a blaze of glory.

Let's get the diagram!

_We_ have _to send it._

*

It's not there anymore.

Graham's moved it, obviously.

I shut the locker door, turn around: and Graham's there, like he's been expecting this.

'When you looked in there, did you notice the spy camera recording that you're a thief?'

'I'm not a thief, I...I...'

I can't think what to say.

Neither can Chloe and Pearl, obviously.

'I could make a citizen's arrest. I know you stole my memory stick–'

'I...I–'

'Don't deny it! I now have _proof_ that you're a thief! Yet you're the one who set the police on _me_! They asked me if I was _suicidal_. Can you imagine that? How humiliating that was for me?'

He's keeping his voice low, like an angry hiss. So no one else can hear.

But he's gritting his teeth, like he's having trouble holding back all his fury. Fury that shows itself in his bulging, veined eyes.

He can sense the fear in me, I'm sure of it. If he can't sense it, he can probably read it in the way I'm edgily backing off from him.

In an abrupt change of mood, he glances about us triumphantly.

'No heroic Adam to rush to your rescue this time?'

Don't panic; he can't do anything!

Not when there's people around just a few feet away!

'Why don't you like him?' I ask, hoping to draw his attention away from the video he's just made of me breaking into his locker. 'He...he's not this Wry Man, is he?'

He laughs.

That's a bit pathetic for a villain's laugh!

'Hah, if only. I checked, hacked into the maintenance depot's staff records. He's just plain Adam Garner. Left school recently, no qualifications. Hence why he's in overalls. See how much more knowledge you can gain when you're already highly intelligent?'

He's so busy gloating, he doesn't seem to realise he might have given me a way of contacting Adam. Then again, I suppose it's never entered his head that I would _want_ to contact Adam.

'But if he's _not_ the Wry Man, why do you say I shouldn't see him?'

He shrugs, grimaces.

'Guys like that, they're always no good. Always picking on other people.'

'Maybe people like you Graham; not people like _me_.'

I want to tell him that I now know what he's really like; that I've seen his ranting against the world in his little movie.

_Sure, go ahead: admit that you_ did _take his memory stick!_

'So that's okay, is it? As long as it's people like me, not you?'

'Course not! I didn't mean it _that_ way!'

'Didn't you? Didn't you and your friends always pick on me too? Simply because I was the intelligent kid – the geek, the nerd?'

I'm embarrassed. Ashamed. He's right.

_Wait a minute: he_ did _kill us!_

We don't know that for sure! The police don't seem to think so.

'I'm sorry; we shouldn't have done those things to you. I realise that now.'

I'm nervous. I'm not entirely sure if I'm apologising simply because I'm ashamed of what we put Graham through, or if it's dawning on me that we might bear some of the responsibility for how he's turned out.

Or am I simply apologising in the hope that it placates him? That it at least calms him down, maybe even long enough for me to get away from here without him attacking me?

'Why now, after all this time? Because your friends died?'

'In a way yes; but not in the way you think. I just realise now – that it wasn't fair.'

'No, it _wasn't_ fair, was it? But know what? Life isn't fair, is it? Not at all like it is in the movies. Where everyone ends up happy ever after unless you're the bad guys.'

_Who ends up happy ever after in_ his _movie?_

We do; we end up in the ever after.

Where the hell's Adam when you need him!

'What's going on here again?'

I can't believe it!

It's Adam!

*

# Chapter 8

With an angry grumble of, 'Your girlfriends a thief; and I've got proof!' Graham storms off before Adam can humiliate him any further.

Adam looks down at me, staring directly into my eyes, his expression one that asks if I'd like to explain Graham's accusation.

'Well? _Has_ he got proof?'

I hang my head, ashamed.

'Yes,' I admit. I look up. 'But there _is_ a reason: and _I_ can prove it too!'

I hold up my own memory stick, one containing a copy of Graham's movie.

'Do you have a laptop?'

He grins.

'Of course; maintenance isn't just about plumbing these days. Most places have some form of computer control we have to link into to access diagrams and plans.'

'It might be best if we go somewhere a bit more private–'

'Hmn, so Graham was right about that too, was he? About you being my girlfriend?'

Ohh, cheessssyy!

With a smile like that, I'll let him off.

'I _meant_ so we can watch this weird movie he's made!'

I punch him lightly and playfully on his chest. He grins again.

'I know: but I thought I'd just use the opportunity to check where we stood, right?'

'Well, I could _stand_ a bit closer, if you want?'

Even cheeessssier!

_Sure, but_ he's _lapping it up. The girl knows what she's doing!_

I move a little closer towards him. So close he has very little choice but to slip an arm around me.

It's an arm that manages to feel both hard and powerful and soft and tender all at the same time.

In his arms, I somehow feel delicate, in need of protection.

We're so close, I have to raise my chin a little. And he has to look down at me.

I mean, what else could we do but kiss?

*

'That's _seriously_ creepy!'

Told you! Creeps-cemetery, Creepstown!

Adam looks a little awestruck as he watches Graham pour out his loathing for women on the laptop's small screen.

'It's like...like he sees his whole life as being this movie. With him as the central character. He's, like, the audience for a movie about himself.'

_Did this guy_ really _come out of school with no qualifications?_

_Perhaps he was, you know, just the_ bad _boy there?_

Intelligent but rebellious? The more I hear about him, the more I like him.

'I did media studies at school,' he explains with a beaming smile just for me.

'You ask me,' he continues, 'I reckon there's actually an awful of shame and self-loathing seeping out of Graham. He hopes the movie gives him a little more control over the bad things happening in his life; he can give it a plot, a back story.'

Do you really learn all this in media studies?

Just what sort of school did he go to? Eton?

Adam laughs, seeing that I'm impressed.

'We made our own movies at school. Really bad ones, not like this – not _at all_ like this! Our teacher came out with all the spiel I'm giving you now. I remembered it, though, because it made a lot of sense to me at the time; the way we tend to live our lives through movies, these totally fictional accounts of other people's lives. They might not really reflect reality, he said, but they form our ideas of what we think we deserve from it; how we expect it all to turn out.'

Are we sure this guy isn't really some sort of professor, who just does a bit of maintenance on the side?

Maybe the extra money's handy?

'But this guy – like, wow! I'm not sure he can make any separation at all between reality and his own weird fantasy. It's like he's turned his own life into out-of-body experience. He must _dream_ in computer graphics!'

Damn! He's just looked up from the screen and caught me gawping at him with love-glazed eyes.

'Sorry, my teacher's words again,' he admits with a chuckle. 'Impressive, huh? I mean, what _he'd_ come out with; not me.'

'You've remembered it all. And it all made me sense to me; the way you explained it all. So I think that _is_ impressive.'

'Then it's a pity you're not my boss! Maybe that way I wouldn't be constantly being told I'm an idiot, I'm getting it wrong, will I never learn – all that sorta stuff! _Daily_!'

'I can't believe _anyone_ would think you're an idiot.'

I snuggle up closer to him.

I let him know that I don't think he needs to learn _anything_ at all.

*

Come lunchtime at school the next day, I slip out of the yard, heading for my rendezvous with Adam.

As I make my way past everyone, my newly-discovered confidence seems to have done the trick: I'm getting a few lingering stares, even a frequent smile, from some of the school's better-looking boys.

The low top seems to have done the trick, Amina.

Yeah, I'm surprised no one's pulled you up for that yet: that's a definite against-school-regulations top.

And no one seems any the wiser there's a lot of padding going on down there.

There's no such thing! That's the bra: it just needed a bit of help to get the _shape_ right!

_Don't look, don't look! Tyler's looking this way – hey, wait a minute! He shouldn't be looking at_ you _, Amina!_

_Its not like he can go out with_ you _anymore, is it?_

_Sure – but it's the_ principle _! There's supposed to be_ some _graceful period of mourning, isn't there?_

Well, going by the way his tongue's almost hanging out, I reckon Tyler figures that period's over!

_Amina!_ Promise _me you_ won't _go out with Tyler!_

I can't help it if Tyler's gawping at me, can I? Course I won't go out with him! I don't even fanc–

_You don't_ like _him? You always_ said _you did!_

_Oh, what else was she supposed to do? Tell you the truth that we both thought you were a little crazy getting all_ –

You too? You didn't like him either? But I only went out with him because you two thought he was hot!

No, no; definitely not even cool.

Oh, that's sick, sick, sick! And to think I let him–

You didn't?

_No, no – not_ that _! God no!_

Thing is, it's making me feel a bit creeped out, the way some of the nerdy kids think they have a right to just gawk at me like I'm on show just for them!

Yeah, I thought that too!

Nigel Houseman! Yuuuuccckkk!

Eyes like cuckoo eggs! Makes me shivery all over just thinking about it!

Scary! It really turned my stomach; or would have, if I still had one.

_Don't worry though, Amina; it'll all be worth it when Adam sees you. You look_ amazing _!_

Despite the padding.

There's hardly _any_ padding!

Well, I reckon your mum's gonna be wondering what happened to her box of tissues she–

It wasn't a _box_!

_A_ box _would look really bad!_

You know what I mean!

And he probably won't notice the zit tha–

Zit!

Kidding, kidding!

Don't let her worry you girl! You're handling Adam fine. But if you need a few tips on how to really kiss–

I do _not_ need tips, thank you!

But the way–

The way I did it was fine!

Hey, hey – am I the only one keeping an eye on where we're going here? Who's that gawping at us from the trees?

There's no one there; it's just the way the shadows _–_

_There so_ is _someone there!_

She's right, Amina! Maybe you can't see him too well.

So now my _eyesight's_ faulty?

I mean he's like really, really thin.

Yeah, almost like he's made of twigs or stalks, he's so–

Slender?

_It's_ him _! It's the Wry Man!_

*

# Chapter 9

I can't see him!

You don't have to!

Just run!

_Trust us! He's_ really _weird!_

They've both insisted that I run. Even though that patch of wood I'd stared so intently at still looked to me like a patch of wood.

It was just thin stems, amongst so many other thin stems.

Perhaps he's some sort of spiritual thing?

Yeah, that must be it: he's in the spiritual world, not this one!

Or maybe half in, half out!

Can't you run any faster?

I'm the one whose legs we're all using – and they're _aching_ , thanks! And I'm finding it hard to breath! I can't run for much longer! It's not like any of us were into running, is it?

_Running makeup – that_ always _concerned me._

Running makeup! Oh no! After all this, my makeup will be running!

Slow down then, slow down. I don't think he's following!

You don't think he's following? So why the heck am I _still_ running!

Just in case; he looked well creepy.

And we can't really tell until you look back, Amina.

I look over my shoulder as I continue to run: just in case.

I can't see him.

Well, is he there or not?

I'm slowing down, taking the risk. I'm exhausted.

No, I don't think he's there anymore either.

Are you sure you didn't just _imagine_ him? What did he _look_ like?

Let's put it this way; he didn't look wryly amused!

Or wryly sceptical!

He just looked – scary!

Like he was just waiting for someone to come along.

Sort of like Death, without his cloak.

Only he wasn't a skeleton!

So what _was_ he then?

Just really, really thin: like he'd been dead for ages.

And his flesh – all sort of withered around his bones.

Well he sounds like he's in a far better condition than I am!

Now I've come to a complete halt, I'm bent double, my hands on my knees. I'm panting like I get through at least twenty packs of cigarettes each day.

My heart's racing, my vision blurry.

In the Olympics, I'd get the gold for the triathlon of coughing, spitting and dribbling.

And that, naturally, is when I see a smiling Adam walking towards me.

*

At first, I'm so dizzy I'm not really quite sure it is Adam.

I'm _hoping_ it's not Adam.

I'm covered in sweat. It's running down my forehead. Running into and stinging my eyes.

I've got to run! I can't let him see me like _this_!

Too late.

Too tired!

He's seen you.

He looks a little confused.

_Well, we_ are _heading away from where you agreed to meet._

He might think you were planning on standing him up.

Running away from him, in fact!

Just grrrreat! If you two weren't already dead, _I'd_ kill you!

'Hi Amina,' Adam says jovially enough as he draws closer, but adding, with a puzzled frown, 'Aren't you going the wrong way? Didn't we say we'd meet–'

'Yes, yes, we did!' I gasp, still fighting for breath, but at last now able to stand upright. 'It was just...just that...'

I'm lost for words and, once again when I need some input from C and P, so are they.

I can't really say I was running from the Wry Man, can I? Running like a sacred little kid from some imaginary figure.

'Have you been crying?'

Concerned, Adam steps even closer, touches my cheek tenderly – and pulls back a palm and fingers stained with wet mascara.

'Oh no! I must look a fright!'

He chuckles, like I'm worrying over nothing.

'You look _fine_ ,' he lies, holding me closer – pulling me into a kiss.

Has he got the information he promised us?

_Remember, Amina? That's why we_ really _agreed to meet him?_

Information on the man who's probably trying to kill you?

_It does have_ some _importance, you know!_

*

'Seems you were right about this Graham; he's been under all sorts of therapy for years, since he was about seven. Highly intelligent, a savant of the highest order, as it says, but can't socialise – therapists and social workers putting it down to traces of autism or Asperger's. No one really seems sure, to be honest. To help him become more accustomed to everyday life, it says, he's even attending a regular school. Rather than the private school his parents could easily afford to send him to.'

As promised, Adam had managed to get us some information on Graham; in fact, far more than we'd hoped for.

We'd just wanted to know why the police had let him go after we'd provide them with the movie he'd made. But Adam had also somehow managed to get a rough idea of his medical history. Seems the police had been informed of Graham's mental problems by his parents, with all the records to prove they were telling the truth.

He was already receiving treatment for his condition, had been receiving it on an almost daily basis.

If he's so wacky, how come he's not banged up for life then?

I ask Chloe's question for her, but in slightly kinder words.

'Because he's already receiving treatment,' Adam replies. 'They didn't really have any reason to detain him. They don't want to stigmatise someone who's being treated for mental illness. Otherwise others will simply stop seeking it.'

Adam had briefly swapped places with a friend of his who was part of a team carrying out maintenance at the local police station. The way he explains it, all he had to do was patch into a mainframe, get past a few simple passwords, and call up the most recent case records.

We're all so pleased with what Adam's found out about Graham, I reward him in a way that – let's face it – I might just find even more enjoyable than he does. He doesn't _really_ seem to mind that though.

_Are you_ sure _you don't want just a_ few _tips on–_

Trust _you_ to spoil the mood!

Thankfully, though, she doesn't spoil the mood _too_ much.

*

On the way back to school, after Adam's left to return to work, we _all_ feel like we're being constantly watched, secretly followed.

And that's despite the fact there aren't any woods around any longer; we're passing neat suburban homes, the only trees being those in the odd garden.

No way could anybody be flitting from tree to tree without us noticing him.

It _has_ to be a 'him', right?

Nope, not even the skinniest man you're ever likely to see could manage to hide himself away _that_ expertly. This feeling we're being followed has just _got_ to be nothing more than our overactive imaginations playing tricks on us.

Graham? Could it be thick-as-a?

Nooo way! He couldn't move that fast even if his feet were on fire!

I think we'd spot him if his feet were on fire.

Pree-cisely!

Er girls, girls: what's _that_?

At first, I thought it was just the sunlight glinting off a metal lamppost lying a little way ahead of me. Then the light had sparkled, wavered, as if caught in the rippling effect of a heat haze.

Then it had become an achingly thin man. He didn't appear strong enough to even lift his arms, even his own head.

But he did manage to raise his head. And when he did, he grimly smiled in welcome.

_Oh my God! That's him!_ That's _the Wry Man!_

*

# Chapter 10

I'm running _again_!

This time, I leap over a low garden wall – I just never knew I was _so_ athletic – and dash as fast as I can down past the side of the house.

If the homeowner's home and comes out to complain, _he_ can face the Wry Man!

Perhaps this Wry Man doesn't mean us any harm!

_Are you kidding? I'm dead, and I_ still _felt creeped out!_

_Didn't you come over all shivery? Like when you step into a room you just_ know _is haunted?_

Like _me_ you mean? With _two_ resident spirits?

I've made a big mistake. I've run around the back of the house, only to find myself trapped. I'm in a garden surrounded on every side by either high fences or impenetrably thick hedges of every spiky type of shrub the gardener could lay his hands on.

I spin around, wondering if I can run back up the side of the house before the Wry Man gets here, fearing I'm already too late and he's already there.

He isn't there, thankfully. But then, neither is my escape route.

The climbing roses growing up the side of the house and arching over the path are spreading at an unbelievable rate. The branches are elongating, completely blocking my way as if made up of writhing serpents.

Wow, how'd that happen?

Is someone helping us at last? Keeping the Wry Man out?

'Don't worry,' a voice like hissing steam says behind me, 'I won't keep you for long.'

I spin around again.

The Wry Man is standing there, standing in the garden.

*

The Wry Man's skull is more horned-animal than man. Maybe it's how most people would imagine the Devil's skull to look like.

And yes, it _is_ more skull than head, although there does seem to be a sheen of thin, tightly stretched skin – almost like the skins you see stretched around certain meats or sausages. And with a similar brown tint of dried blood too.

The eyes – well, they're _not_ eyes, not really. They're more like minute, glowing , whirling planets, the pupils made up of the swirling gasses you see encircling Saturn.

The colours change, not just the colours of the 'irises', but the complete orb, sometimes as dark as a black hole, other times redder than mars. They're not sunk into the skull like normal eyes either, but appear to be supported by nothing more than their own spinning motion.

What I'd first taken to be a smile is just a long crack in the skull above the pointed jaw, the bones jagged to give a semblance of teeth. Like the eyes, these two move, as if they're the rasping teeth of a buzzsaw.

He towers over me, his body and limbs all bone thin. He's not naked, however; once again, there's that bloodied sheen of skin keeping everything together. Here and there, it also hangs from him like ancient, shredded clothing he's stolen from a grave.

'I've come to tell you you needn't be frightened of me; well, not just _yet_ anyway.'

_Is he_ kidding _us!_

He'd scare the bejeezus out of Godzilla!

Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I am the meanest...

'Why are you after me? What have I done to you?'

'What have I done to you?' he repeats with an amused chuckle. 'Is that what you think all this comes down to? What you've done to me?'

'Isn't that why anyone chases after someone?'

'Chase? Do you really think I need to _chase_ you?'

He chuckles again, like he's the number one standup at the Comedy Store.

'It's purely _business_ , of course,' he adds without waiting for my answer.

'What sort of business?'

_What the...? Are you gonna ask him for his business_ card _next?_

'The setting the world to rights business, of course. Bringing fairness to those who feel rejected by a cruel, unfair world.'

'Graham, you mean?'

He nods, somehow managing to look impressed even though I can't think how he manages it.

'And I thought I'd been reliably informed that you were an airhead.'

'So what's Graham been doing? Dabbling with witchcraft?'

'Witchcraft? Oh please, please! Is that all you think this is? All you think _I_ am?'

'The Devil; you're the Devil!'

'Ohh, of course I'm _not_ the Devil!'

He says it as if he's a little exasperated by such an obviously silly accusation.

'What a _dreadful_ insinuation! Didn't I just say my role is to bring back a sense of fairness to the world? I'd hardly think that fits the job description for the _Devil_ , do you?'

'Did you kill us? Try to kill me, I mean. And killed my friends?'

'Did you kill _us_?'

Cocking his skull-like head, he observes me curiously.

It feels like he's somehow staring deep within me. What passes for his eyes seem to penetrate my skin as if it no longer exists for him.

He's in here with us, I'm sure of it!

Get him out, get him out!

'Such an _odd_ choice of words: kill _us_. I heard you three were as thick as thieves – yet, why would you say _us_?'

As he draws closer towards me, I try to step away; but the surrounding plants have taken on a life of their own once more, the extending stems swiftly winding their way towards me, coiling around ankles, wrists, even my neck.

I'm trapped. I'm not going anywhere, not even a few steps back.

He almost tenderly strokes my cheek with hands that have fingers just as narrow and almost as long as corn stalks. His whirling eyes lock on mine, the gaseous streams flowing towards me, swirling around and past my own eyeballs.

'They're still _there_ , aren't they?'

He sounds impressed once again. And only a little surprised.

How's he know that?

_Who_ is _he?_

The Wry Ma–

_I know_ that _! I mean who is he_ really _?_

'Even I didn't realise that was possible,' he says, thankfully stepping back, letting his hand fall away from my cheek. 'Remarkable, truly remarkable. You learn something new every day, don't you?'

'Are you trying to kill me?'

I'm trying to draw his attention away from his discovery that Chloe and Pearl are still alive, living inside me.

'If I were, don't you think I could do it now?'

_Are you_ trying _to rush him into this, Amina?_

'Can I go then?'

Hey, I might as well ask. Even if I'm expecting a refusal.

'In a moment, in a moment; why the unnecessary haste?'

'Why do you want me if you don't want to kill me?'

'Wait; that's a _different_ question, isn't it?'

'Is it?'

'Well, think about it; before, you asked are you _trying_ to kill me.'

'And you said no.'

'But now, your question is, effectively; do you _want_ to kill me? Different questions require different answers.'

'You _do_ want to kill me.'

'Of course.'

'Then why aren't you?'

That's it girl! Talk him into slitting your throat!

_Yeah, just like you, we're also_ tired _with life!_

'Because I haven't been paid to kill you yet, of course. I don't fulfil my roles just out the goodness of my heart, you know. I expect payment, as any professional expects payment, when they're asked to utilise their skills.'

'So when you _are_ paid...?'

'Of course; a transaction agreed to has to be honoured once payment is finally made – even if it is a little late in this case.'

'That's the only reason I'm alive? Because of a late payment?'

'What other reason could there possibly be? Until that payment is made, however, I don't see any reason why you should continue to be afraid of me. I really don't like it when people avoid me when there is absolutely no reason for it.'

'But you _want_ to kill me?'

'Don't you listen? Are you an airhead after all? Let me spell it out for you; you have nothing to fear from me _until_ the payment is made. Then you can fear me as much as you like, my dear.'

He smiles, a grin of a Halloween pumpkin.

'And now, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way.'

He deftly and smoothly places some sort of wide-brimmed trilby on his head, hiding his horns.

Where the hat had come from, I'm not completely sure – but as the coiling stems of the plants were at last retreating away from me, it wouldn't have surprised me if he'd been offered it by a nearby bush, waiting on him like a valet.

As he slides past me, the cloth of shredded skin becomes simpler clothing of loose shirt and trousers, together with what could be either shoes or boots. By the time he's passed through the opening created by the shrivelling rose, he could pass at a distance as a tall, bowed old man.

Let me get this right: Is he saying you're alive only because Graham short changed him?

*

# Chapter 11

So...if we stop Graham from paying up on the final demands, does that mean I'm okay?

Sounds like it to me.

_But wait a minute, Amina: you ate the tuna too! You_ almost _died!'_

Maybe that's it: I was _supposed_ to die. Then, I don't know, perhaps Dr Weird back there was counting his money and finally figured out Graham hadn't come up with the full amount.

How would he stop you dying once we'd all eaten those absolutely delicious sandwiches your mum had left for us?

I sighed. I couldn't be bothered responding to Chloe's sarcastic little dig.

You saw how the plants did whatever he seemed to want; how he appeared out of nowhere.

Stopping someone dying though – that's on a whole new level.

You know what? He looked to _me_ like the kind of guy who _could_ do it!

*

'I need to talk to you!'

Graham almost jumps out of his shoes when I come up behind him and tap him on his shoulder. When he whirls around and sees it's me, however, he's suddenly furious.

'You! No, I need to talk to you! You've got no right accessing my police and medical records!'

'Not your _medic_ – I mean, what _are_ you on about?'

'I don't suffer fools gladly!'

'How do you live with yourself?'

'Oh, very clever. Seems you're not such an airhead after all!'

'Not an _airhead_? What made you say that?'

'Say what? That I'm surprised a blonde isn't an airhead? Have you _never_ heard that expression?'

'I've heard it; I just heard it only a few minutes ago. Spoken by a business associate of yours!'

'The Rye Man? You've seen him?'

Abruptly, he's terrified once more. He's trembling so much I'm worried he's so unsteady on his feet he's going to topple over. He glances anxiously about us, as if expecting the Wry Man to appear out of nowhere alongside us. Which, I now realise, isn't impossible.

'What did you do? What did he say?'

He's so unnerved you'd think that I was the one paying for _him_ to be killed.

Tell him the Wry Man's so angry that he's been short changed, he's going to cut him to pieces!

'He's so angry...he said you'd paid him to have us killed.'

'Look, look – I'm so, so _sorry_!'

He hangs his head in his hands and wails like he's the one with the death sentence hanging over him.

'He wasn't supposed to _kill_ you! I just wanted you to pay for always making fun of me!'

'So how _were_ we supposed to pay?'

'I don't know! I thought, you know, he'd just spoil your looks! Something like that!'

_That would be_ worse _than death._

_Yeah, thank_ God _he decided to kill us instead!_

'He said you hadn't paid enough to have all three of us killed. So you won't be making any more payments, right?'

'Ah, well, er...'

He's shying away, too ashamed to answer.

If I ever loose my looks; just kill me, please.

Bit late for that.

Oh, right; just doesn't feel that way, strangely.

Shut up you two!

'You're scared, is that it?' I ask Graham.

'Of course I'm scared! Wouldn't you be?'

'Isn't that what I _am_ supposed to be? Scared?'

'I don't want to pay him! I wish I hadn't paid him! I never hated you all that much!'

'Glad to hear it! How much do you owe him?'

Don't tell me you're going to loan him the money!

'How _do_ you pay him?' I continue, ignoring Pearl.

'It's nothing really; I just have to take pictures of kids on my phone. Send them to him, read out a little incantation while I–'

'Incantation?'

'You know, words that–'

'I _know_ what an incantation is? I mean doesn't that strike you as a bit suspicious? That you have to read out an incantation as you send of pictures of kids into the ether?'

Oh, good word; ether!

WhiteWraithes _vol two._

'Surely you can't believe in witch–'

'This from a guy who believed in the Slender Man?'

'I didn't _believe_ in him! I just wished there were someone like him who could punish those–'

'Yes, yes; I get it! This incantation – what is it? What are the _words_?'

'Into the...into the ether I do send...'

_Hey, he's read_ WhiteWraithes _too!_

'...all this life for you to rend.'

Who gets to write his incantations? A greeting card writer?

_Jeez, I'd hate to get a greeting card from_ you _!_

_You did: you always_ demanded _one._

'And you didn't think it at all suspicious that you were reading that out as you sent these photos?'

'Well, he told me I should wipe out the photos as soon as I'd–'

'What if he's been stealing their _souls_? Or their _essences_ , maybe?'

Hey, I thought you hadn't read vol three?

*

# Chapter 12

Just as I'm trying to work out how I could save the souls of all the kids Graham has sold to this Devil-like Wry Man, the bell for class rings.

Oh well, doesn't it always happen that way?

Just as it was getting interesting.

Seeing the urgent clanging of the bell as an opportunity to close the conversation, Graham spins away, heading off towards his own class. I reach out to grab his arm, moving far swifter than even I expected,

Gripping him tightly on his forearm, I wrench my arm back, dragging him round to face me once more. I pull harder than I intended and he almost topples over.

He looks surprised, even scared.

'What's he _done_ to you? How'd you do that?'

'Do what?'

'Come on; you must realise how strong you suddenly are! That hurt, the way you grabbed me!'

Don't go getting all excited, Amina; anything would hurt Graham!

_Unless, you know – she's suddenly got the strength of_ three _girls!_

_Three_ pretty _girls. So that's like the strength of two babies._

'How did you contact this Rye Man?' I ask, ignoring the girls once again. 'How did you know how to find him?'

'I didn't! I didn't even know he really existed; I just wanted him to exist. As I said, I needed someone all-powerful who could address the wrongs of the world. Once you've called him up the once though – I just whispered for help: like a prayer I sort of let drift on the wind – you can't get _rid_ of him! If you just think of him, he's there. If you fear him, he's there. And so if you try _not_ to think of him, he's _there_!'

*

We're not going into class; we need to find Adam!

Yaaay! We're playing hooky! What next – mugging old ladies?

Yaaay! And we're going straight to the police station, to turn ourselves in!

No, I'm going to contact him using ye modern-day dark powers: behold, ye mysterious powers of ye cellphones!

Oh yeah; I'd forgotten all about them, weirdly.

*

Just hearing my voice on the phone, Adam can tell I'm worried.

He makes an excuse to leave his team for an hour or so, meets up with me.

It's so good to just hold him in my arms, to feel his arms wrapped around me.

We just stay like that for a minute. Not talking. Just my head resting against his chest.

My breathing heavy, anxious.

'What is it? What's worrying you like this?' he asks, concerned, tenderly stroking my head, my hair.

I could stay like this for days.

'It's hard to explain, I...'

It's not hard to explain; it's impossible!

I'm being chased by this Devil-like guy who devours the spirits of kids whose pictures are sent by cellphone.

Yeah, that should do it; should get Adam to at best dump me straight away. At worst, to have me committed to some hospital hidden far far away in the countryside.

So where do I start?

_Should_ I start?

Should I just forget it all?

'I _think_ I might know what's wrong...' Adam says unsurely.

I jerk my head back excitedly.

'You do?'

'You've just lost your very closest friends–'

'Oh no no, Adam! You _don't_ know!'

I hug him tighter, rest my head on his chest once more.

'Please Amina; hear me out. I do know what I'm taking about!'

'Oh, so what I'm suffering comes under maintenance, does it?' I sort of both snap angrily and wail tearfully.

I jerk my head back once again.

'Wait: how did you know I'd lost my friends?'

'I've worked at your school, remember? There was hardly anyone I passed who didn't mention it at some point.'

'Is that why you're with me? Because you feel sorry for me?'

'Of course not! How could you think I'd do that?'

'Sorry, it's just that...that I've been through so many shocks lately!'

'Of course you have; and that's what I mean. What's happening to you, it might seem unusual but–'

' _Might_ seem unusual?'

I pull a little away from him, laugh bitterly.

'Bereavement plays strange tricks on the mind; trust me, I know about this!'

'Another one of your incredible skills, is it? Along with plumbing?'

'I _am_ trying to help here, Amina! I've sensed that, sometimes, you kinda withdraw into yourself; like you're having a conversation with yourself – or even your lost friends.'

I almost jump away from him in surprise. He can't fail to notice the effect his words have had on me.

'You _do_ know!' I scream excitedly, wrapping my arms tightly about him once again.

'I didn't know; I sort of guessed. It's not as unusual as you'd think!'

I pull back a little, stare at him surprise.

'It's not unusual to have your friends' spirits move into your body?'

'Ah, so _that's_ what you think's happened, do you?'

I frown, puzzled.

'Of course! What else do you think it could be?'

'Well, the main word there is "think"; our imaginations are much more powerful than we'd like to give them credit for!'

'Imagination?' I pull back sharply, glare at him. 'That's all you think it is? My _imagination_?'

He shrugs.

'Really, Amina: what _else_ do you think it could possibly be?'

'I know it's them: their spirits! They talk to me – like they're _really_ there! Are you saying I don't know my friends?'

'Of course you know your friends; you know all their habits, right?'

I nod.

'All their sayings, yes?'

I nod – then stop. I know where all this is going.

'You're going to say that's why I think they're there? They're just my memories of them!'

He nods.

'You don't want to lose them. You believe you're the only one who can keep them alive. And you're feeling guilty: they died at your house, while you survived.'

Now I'm furious.

'All this amazing skill at psycho... – at figuring out what I'm thinking: that's all down to another amazing teacher, is it?'

'I was lucky; I went to a good school. But I went off the rails, angry at all the restrictions there. And now I pay for that by working in maintenance, rather than the investment bank Mommy and Daddy hoped I'd end up in.'

'But wait – I can _prove_ it's not my imagination!' I declare triumphantly. 'There's a man, this Wry Man, who's like the Slender Man, and we've _all_ seen him!'

'Slender Man?' He warily stares at me. 'And you've _all_ seen him?'

'No, wait! It's not as crazy as it seems. He's not _the_ Slender Man, obviously! _He_ doesn't exist! And by all, I don't just mean me and the girls! Graham too! Graham's seen him...'

My voice drifts off as I see the hurt and anxiety in Adam's eyes.

'Graham's getting treatment, isn't he?' I say miserably, remembering the medical records Adam had managed to access. 'Treatment for mental instability?'

Adam nods sadly, like he wishes he hadn't won this argument, wishes he'd lost, been proven wrong.

'Am I crazy, like he is, Adam?'

*

# Chapter 13

It's so strange waking up without Pearl and Chloe.

I feel – very lonely.

Perhaps if the girls had made some effort to protest when Adam was insisting they didn't really exist: maybe even if they'd just made a few wisecracks. Yet, instead, they'd been so strangely, so uncharacteristically, silent.

And now? Now it's like they're _finally_ dead.

Like I've finally been made to accept that they're really gone.

On my way to school, it's the worst day of my life. I hadn't realised how much I'd come to enjoy having the girls squabbling in my head. It was like they were still here, still with me.

Still making me laugh.

Still making me angry.

Still winding me up.

Still gossiping wildly.

It's hard to believe all that was really just me: conjuring them up into a form of life within my imagination. Giving them life.

And all along, they didn't _really_ exist. They were just my memories.

Memories of the best friends I've ever had.

There are advantages to accepting that my friends have really gone, of course.

For a start, it means I no longer have a death sentence hanging over me. The tuna sandwiches Bet made were just an accident, nothing more. They weren't some weird conspiracy to kill us dreamt up by Graham.

Graham, poor guy, just needs help.

As I might have done, too: if I hadn't faced up to how I was allowing my wishful thinking to override my reason.

And, of course, if I hadn't had Adam to help me face up to the sad reality that Chloe and Pearl are no longer around to have fun with.

*

The school yard is mainly empty, everyone arriving heading straight indoors. The only one standing out there is Graham.

He's shuffling nervously on his feet, wringing his hands. His eyes wide and fearful.

As soon as he sees me, he rushes over.

'Amina! I have to warn you! The Rye Man came to me last night. He _made_ me pay up the last–'

'Graham, please!' I grab his arm as firmly yet as tenderly as I can. 'He _doesn't_ exist! Believe me! He's just up there; in your imagination. He doesn't exist anywhere else!'

I point up towards his head. I try to appear as reasonable and consoling as I can.

Graham simply looks bewildered, even more fearful than before.

'No, no, Amina! You _saw_ him too, remember? He can't just be in my mind if _you_ saw him too!'

'I was upset, Graham! I've just lost my friends. I was imagining things too. But now I'm not. And now I _no longer_ see him!'

He grabs my arm, perhaps a little too tightly, a little too frenziedly.

'Amina, listen! I saw him last night! He made me send the photos I'd collected. Stood over me while I did it! That means I've paid up everything I owe. That means he's coming after you!'

'Graham, please!'

Now I'm trying to control my anger. He means well. He can't help it. But all this is just making me nervous again.

I'm worried that, like him, I'm not far from tipping over into being completely crazy.

I need help.

I need Adam.

Graham needs help.

Oh please please let someone come along who can help us both.

And then, oh my God, I see him.

The Wry Man is standing by the school gates, grinning.

*

# Chapter 14

'Run Amina!'

Graham has also seen the Wry Man. He's trying to run, trying to drag me along with him.

But I'm steadfastly staying put.

All this is crazy. _I'm_ crazy if I accept this imaginary man exists.

'Graham, please: he's not _really_ there!'

'You can _see_ him? Then he _is_ there! You _have_ to run!'

He's more frantic than ever. His terrified gaze flicks from where he wants us to run then back to the languidly approaching Wry Man.

The Wry Man appears amused by our confusion.

He's almost by us.

Suddenly, Adam is also by the gates.

'Amina,' he yells out anxiously. 'Run! _I_ can see him too!'

*

# Chapter 15

I run.

Oh no no no! The Wry Man _really_ exists!

He _wasn't_ just someone made up in my imagination!

And I don't have Chloe and Pearl with me anymore to help me out!

Glancing over my shoulder, I see that the Wry Man appears to be in no hurry. And yet he's gaining on both me and Graham as we try to race away from him. He's almost sliding, hovering, across the ground, each long step taking him much farther than it should.

Adam sees that the Wry Man is going to catch us. He rushes in from the gates, tearing across the yard. His head set low, determined.

He's going to try and bring the Wry Man down by diving at his waist, I just know.

'No Adam!' I scream out in warning. 'You don't know what he's–'

I'm too late. Adam is already diving headlong towards the swiftly approaching Wry Man, intending to wrestle him to the ground in a flying tackle.

As Adam's arms wrap around his waist, the Wry Man laughs – then vanishes.

*

Adam's badly cut and bruised, the result of sliding across the yard's rough tarmac and concrete once the Wry Man had disappeared. The skin around his elbows is particularly badly shredded. I have to take extra special care there as I wipe the cuts clean of grit with some tissues I'd had in my pocket.

'How'd he do that? How'd he simply vanish?' he asks, bewildered.

He's still seated on the floor. I'm kneeling by him.

'I don't know; he can just _do_ that.'

'Just what _is_ he?'

I look to Graham for an explanation. He's still hovering around us, glancing edgily about us as if expecting the Wry Man to reappear at any moment.

'He's bad news! _That's_ what he is.'

'I think we deserve a bit more of an explanation than that!' Adam snaps, grimacing as I try to remove some deeply embedded grit in his arm.

'Why do you think I should know?' Graham retorts, his eyes blazing in anger behind the thick glass of his spectacles.

Adam isn't paying any attention to him. He's smiling at me. He caresses my cheek gently.

'Are you all right?'

I nod.

'Just a little breathless. I've probably done more running in the past two days than I've done in the rest of my life.'

He grins. Turning his face up towards mine, he brings our lips together in a kiss.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flustered Graham turn away in perhaps both disgust and envy.

As our lips part, Adam turns and glowers at Graham.

'You seem to be the cause of all this! You must have _some_ idea of what we're dealing with!'

Graham looks amazed that Adam could even think such a thing. Even so, he frowns, like he's attempting to come up with some sort of answer to Adam's demand.

'The _nearest_ thing I can put it down to is...well, some sort of mix between a hologram and Star Trek's matter transporter.'

'Great: a mix of established science and science fiction, in other words? Where the hell does that get us?'

'How should _I_ know what he really is?' Graham snaps back. 'I'm only guessing! Just going by what I've been playing around with myself, in science class and at home.'

Of course, both Adam and I both know what Graham has really been constructing at home; his movie. Threatening to change the world by killing every girl he doesn't like. Which is just about _every_ girl.

He sees the look of doubt in our eyes, struggles to appease it with another stab at an explanation.

'A hologram, right, isn't an image, like people think it is. It's really the _memory_ of the _interference_ in a light field–'

He sees the confusion on my face, even in Adam's expression.

We can't see where this can be leading to.

How can it be connected to the Wry Man? And yet, going by the determined narrowing of his eyes, it seems that Graham believes this is the nearest he can come up with to explain how the Wry Man came into being.

He waves our concerns away with an airily dismissive shaking of his hands.

'It's the memory of the light patterns you would _actually_ see! So you no longer need the actual object to replicate that _experience_. Similarly, the transporter beam – another thing no one seems to realise – actually _destroys_ the original person. It simply stores the _memory_ of molecular interference, so it can be re-created someplace else.'

'You sure you're not making all this up as you go along?' Adam grumbles impatiently. 'Holograms need lasers; one controllable wavelength.'

Again, Graham uses a wave of his hand to dismiss any of our qualms.

'But what if it's a _collective_ memory of something we all secretly fear? Perhaps _we've_ conjured up this Rye Man into existence! As for your point about the lasers, I've been experimenting with a Viking Sun Stone–'

'Now you're bringing in the Vikings?' Adam gasps, exasperated. 'I've heard of it; they used it to navigate. To see the sun even in foggy conditions. How's _that_ connected?'

'They could even see the sun when it was _below_ the horizon! When you pass two sheets of calcite crystal over each other, it focuses light, enabling us to see even ultraviolet light! Now, if you _combine_ these three technologies with simpler ones like computer graphics and three-d printing–'

'They're hardly _all_ technologies!'

_Jeez, Amina! Have you_ really _got nothing better to do than listen to this?_

Who'd have thought it? Gorgeous little Amina, hanging around with her best friend Graham Forest!

Pearl? Chloe?

You're back!

*

# Chapter 16

Where have you _been_?

_Where have_ we _been? Where have_ you _been?_

We've been here all along!

You couldn't hear us!

_We were_ screaming _at you not to listen to him!_

Not to listen to Adam?

He was saying we didn't exist!

He didn't think you did! But now he's seen the Wry Man, he knows it wasn't all just my imagination!

'Amina?'

Adam's got that concerned look again, like he's figuring I'm talking to myself once more.

'Sorry,' I grin. 'I was just trying to get my head around what Graham's saying.'

I don't want to tell him the girls are back. I don't want him thinking I might just be a little crazy.

I don't want him telling me they don't exist.

'Really?' he says, replying to my own smile with a wryly doubtful grin. 'You can make sense of all that?'

Cheek! Is he saying I'm stupid?

_No, he's saying_ no _one could make sense of it but some geek who spends all his time in his room!_

Amen to that!

No, I can't tell Adam the girls are back.

I don't want to run the risk that he'll try persuading me the girls don't exist once more.

Because they _do_ exist.

They're _real_!

*

Graham's doing a good job of blaming everything on this here Wry Man,

Completely avoiding the undeniable fact that he paid the guy to bump us all off!

And let's not forget the movie; the one needing an ending where he goes out in a blaze of glory!

Graham was still trying to explain how the Wry Man might have come into existence.

I interrupt him.

'Why did you put your _edited_ movie into your camera?'

'So you _did_ pinch it!'

He glowers at me like, suddenly, _I'm_ the one at fault here: rather than _him_ for setting the Wry Man to kill us all!

I answer his angry glare, his accusation, with a dismissive wave of a hand, like he was using earlier.

'Just answer the question, Graham!'

First he looks stupefied by my forthrightness, then petulantly upset by it.

'Well, because; I needed something _extra_ to end my film, of course!'

'So why not shoot it, then edit it in later? That's what most people would do!'

'I wasn't sure I'd have time to do it; to edit it, I mean.'

'You thought you'd end up dead, you mean?'

He nods resignedly. The he notices I'm glaring at him.

'No no! It's not what you think!' he blurts out urgently. 'It was the Rye Man I was going after. _That_ was the ending my movie required. I'd brought him into existence; I had to get rid of him.'

'How?' For the first time in ages, I sense a rising glimmer of hope. 'How were you planning on getting rid of him?'

'Haven't you been listening?' he retorts with an irate grimace.

'Sorry! What did you say?'

'I said I have absolutely no idea how to get rid of him!'

*

# Chapter 17

Why couldn't you hear us before, when Adam was saying we didn't exist?

Love maybe; it makes you forget your friends, doesn't it?

I suppose that _could_ be true.

I'm ashamed to admit it.

Adam's only just left us, and already I feel like he's been away from me for too long.

I'm trying to work out some excuse to be with him again.

Maybe it was this Wry Man; you know, blocking us out?

Sure; making sure you couldn't hear us.

The more I hear about this Wry Man, the less I like him!

But he wasn't there.

He might have been.

We didn't see him; but that doesn't mean he wasn't watching us.

_You'd_ know though, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you _sense_ him, if he'd been there?

Probably, yes; but we don't know that for sure.

_Who knows what kind of powers this guy's got? When he realised he'd been short changed, remember, he_ stopped _you_ dying _Amina!_

That maybe means too that he was the one who transformed your mum's fresh tuna into a weapon of mass destruction. Wanting it to look like natural deaths.

Two dead; hardly mass destruction.

If you're one of the two, it might as well be mass, thank you.

_But anyway, if it_ was _him managing to block us out of your mind, well; if he can do_ that _, maybe he can stop us sensing him too._

Why? Why would he do that?

_Maybe – maybe he_ fears _us!_

We all chuckle at this.

Then I stop.

Wait! If that's true, doesn't that give him _another_ reason to get rid of us?

Oh yeeaah.

*

# Chapter 18

'You _sure_ you're just thinking things through?'

Adam's glancing up at me doubtfully, like he knows I'm talking with the girls again.

It's not like I'm managing to hide it, is it? I must go off into this dreamy, distracted pose whenever we're having our little chats.

In this case, I'm still supposed to be cleaning Adams wounds. Instead, I've just sort of frozen in mid action.

'Where...where's Graham?' I ask, puzzled.

He's nowhere to be seen. Just how long was I talking to the girls?

Adam looks about himself, as bewildered as I am.

'He was here just a second ago! No one could run away _that_ fast!'

'Why, don't worry! _Here_ he is!'

The Wry Man is standing by the gates once more,

And this time, he's holding a terrified, squirming Graham by the neck.

*

'Let him go,' I say despairingly. 'I know it's _me_ you want.'

'Oh, but I can have _you_ as well anyway. You're not in a position to impose deals. Besides, are you really so sure you want him?'

No!

Let him squirm!

Adam begins to stand up, using an arm to push and force me to take shelter behind him.

The Wry Man suddenly hurls Graham at Adam as if he's weightless.

When Graham strikes Adam, though, it's quite obvious he isn't weightless. He bowls Adam aside, landing on him ungainly, painfully.

I rush to an injured Adam's side once more. Graham's also been injured by the heavy fall. But he doesn't deserve my help.

I glance back nervously towards the school. Then look towards the street beyond the gates.

Where is everyone? Is there no one around to help us?

As you'd expect, the Wry Man laughs at the way I'm helplessly seeking for someone to help us.

'Where _are_ people when you need them?'

He briefly looks about himself as if he too is mystified by the lack of any sense of life or movement around us.

'It's like they're all on...ohh, I don't know. Frozen in time, maybe? Or perhaps even on a different plane of existence?'

He smiles scornfully at the way I'm tending Adam, yet ignoring Graham.

'You see? You _didn't_ want him!

'I didn't want him _killed_!'

_You know, it really wouldn't have bothered_ me _too much._

_I wouldn't have lost any sleep, I've got to admit_.

'I didn't want him killed!'

He repeats what I've just said while frowning quizzically, as if it's full of hidden meaning.

'Hardly an endorsement for your care for him, is it?' he adds.

'If you mean would I have him as a friend, you're wrong. Now I know what I caused him to suffer, yes; I _would_ have him as a friend.'

Oh, Amina! Do you know your eyes give you away when you lie?

Shushhh! She's just trying to appease the Wry Man, idiot!

'As a _friend_!'

He repeats it with mock tenderness.

'That's so nice, don't you think Graham?'

Graham is unsteadily rising to his feet.

As Adam took the brunt of the clash between them, he's not as badly injured as Adam. Adam's still breathless, a little dazed. I think he knocked his head on the hard concrete floor as they fell to the ground together.

'The old classic put down! I like you as _friend_ ; but not in the way _you_ _want_!'

'Graham doesn't want anything to do with me; especially in the way you're making out.'

'Oh doesn't he? Perhaps you should _ask_ him? You know; especially about the "making out" part?'

Graham looks embarrassed.

'He wanted me killed, didn't he?' I point out to the Wry Man. 'And my friends.'

'Of course he did! Because you humiliated him! The one he loved so much. The delicately beautiful Amina! Humiliating him _every_ day! Every minute! Can you imagine the torture he was suffering? No wonder he ended up hating you so much!'

_Amina! So all this was_ your _fault!_

_And_ we're _the ones who're dead! How unfair is_ that _?_

I glance Graham's way, waiting for him to deny all this. Instead, he hangs his head in shame.

'Graham?'

He can't answer, can't look at me.

'I didn't know,' I say. As if that helps.

'And if you _did_ know?' The Wry Man cocks his head, as if curiously awaiting my answer. 'Do you mean you might actually have considered...?'

He pauses expectantly.

Now I'm the one who hangs my head in shame.

'We all know what the answer is, Amina.'

The Wry Man says it calmly, quietly. He doesn't need to add even a hint of triumph.

'The very best a boy like Graham could hope for, from the very kindest girl, would be a "I like you too much as a friend". But you, Amina; you didn't possess even that little bit of kindness in you, did you?'

I'm squirming in embarrassment.

Suddenly, however, Adam is quivering even more violently. Like he's suffering a late reaction to Graham falling on him. Like he's going into shock.

'Adam!' I shriek in concern.

His face contorts in agony.

It's the Wry Man! He's doing this!

I look up towards the Wry Man. Naturally, he's grinning as he watches Adam suffer.

'Please!' I plead. 'Adam doesn't have anything to do with this!'

'Oh, doesn't he?' the Wry Man sneers maliciously. 'You're _so_ innocent, my dear.'

Abruptly, Adam vanishes.

And in his place, it's Graham I'm holding in my arms.

*

# Chapter 19

_Oh God no! We're holding_ Graham _!_

I whirl around, trying to see what's happened to Adam, where he is.

He's standing where Graham had fallen to the ground. He no longer looks as badly injured as he'd been when he'd been lying in my arms.

Graham, however, is now writhing in agony. Just as Adam had been only seconds ago.

'What are you doing?' I scream at the Wry Man. ' _Why_ are you doing this?'

'Me? _I'm_ doing nothing,' the Wry Man answers innocently. 'Just revealing the _truth_ , my girl.'

'The truth?'

I'm confused. I'm trying to work out what this bizarre situation could possibly mean.

Adam looks as bewildered as I am. Once he's recovered from the shock of finding himself standing in a completely different position, he kneels down beside me, placing his arms protectively around me.

'He's just trying to confuse you!' he says.

'Adam is Graham,' the Wry Man says as if by way of explanation. He's now languidly making his way towards us. 'Graham is Adam. What could possibly be so confusing about that?'

'That doesn't make any sense!'

'Are you sure? Or are you just _hoping_ it doesn't make sense? Let me help you a little more.'

The Wry Man's no longer advancing towards us.

I'm holding him tenderly in my arms.

*

With a shocked yell, I leap back, away from the Wry Man.

Even though I'm no longer supporting him, the Wry Man doesn't slump to the floor. He remains seated at this odd angle, as if someone invisible is supporting him.

He laughs at my surprise.

Graham has swapped places with Adam once more; he's now the one with his arms wrapped around me.

And where the Wry Man had been, there now stands a perplexed Adam.

He starts running towards us – only to instantly change once more into Graham.

And the Wry Man is now the one with his arms around me.

*

Adam is back on the floor. Unlike the Wry Man, he slumps to the floor with no one there to support him.

What the hell's going on here?

I shrug free of the Wry Man's grasp, bend down to help Adam once more; only to find he's Graham again. I've just pulled myself free of Adam's arms.

The Wry Man is running towards us.

They all change again. And again. The changes faster and faster, becoming a bewildering blur.

And then, at last, I understand.

'The three of you,' I cry out, 'are all the _same_ person!'

*

# Chapter 20

The rapid changes immediately stop.

Adam is on the floor by me once more.

Graham is standing just a few steps in front of me, having stopped running towards us.

Which means; the Wry Man is close behind me.

He places a hand on each of my shoulders, gripping me tightly, painfully.

'Well done, well done,' he hisses in my ear. 'You figured it out!'

*

We've had enough of this!

Ignoring the agonising firmness of his grip, I shrug off the Wry Man's hands.

He gasps in surprise, wondering where I've got the strength from to break free of such a firm hold. As a part of the same move, I spin around on the balls of my feet.

Bringing my hands together, I swing my arms as hard as I can into the side of the Wry Man's face.

And I'm amazed just how hard I can strike him.

Maybe he's a little unbalanced. Maybe he wasn't expecting me to lash out at him.

Maybe having Chloe and Pearl inside me has given me a strength and determination I wouldn't otherwise possess.

Whatever the reason, the Wry Man is sent careering off to one side. He stumbles, crumples a little on his legs.

Graham gawps in astonishment.

Kill Graham and we kill the Wry Man!

I think killing Graham might be going too far, something I doubt I'm capable of anyway.

At the moment, however, I can't think of anything better to do than at least lunge out for him and capture him in a tight hold around his chest and waist I wouldn't have believed I was capable of only a second ago.

'I'm not trying to hurt you!' he protests.

'But I am!'

I'm holding the Wry Man, not Graham. But he's amused, not apprehensive of my surprisingly firm grip.

_We_ should _have killed him!_

They're the same!

With a simple flexing of his incredibly thin arms, the Wry Man breaks my hold on him. Like I'm a weak little girl once more.

'Amina, let's run!'

Adam's alongside me, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me into a sprint away from the Wry Man.

_We can't trust_ him _either!_

He could turn into the Wry Man any minute!

He tried to tell you we didn't exist, remember!

Now it all makes sense!

I know what the girls are saying.

There's a part of me that agrees completely with them.

A part that doesn't.

I take Adam's hand.

And we run, leaving a happily chortling Wry Man behind us.

*

# Chapter 21

He could turn into the Wry Man any minute!

Weren't you listening earlier?

How do we know the Wry Man can't see and hear everything we're doing?

'What happened back there?' Adam asks. 'I kept blacking out. Finding myself suddenly in a different position.'

He's fighting for his breath, as I am.

We ran as fast and for as long as we could. (And I could run a surprisingly long way, farther actually than Adam.)

The Wry Man wasn't in any rush to follow us. But we just wanted to put as much distance as we could between us and him.

'You mean you don't know what was happening?' I ask him, trying to hide the suspicion in my voice.

He shakes his head.

'I was confused: I saw that the Wry Man was swapping places with Graham, figured out I was involved in all this swapping around too. But I couldn't figure out what it all meant. How could we all be the same person? I don't _feel_ like I'm either Graham or the Wry Man! I don't sense _any_ connection between us!'

_Careful girl; he_ would _say that!_

Don't fall for this goody-two-shoes act anymore!

He's the Wry Man! He's Graham!

'Maybe it's like you're Jekyll and Hyde – only with three of you.'

'And all visible at same time?' Adam says. 'I don't see how it works at all.'

The good, the geek, and the evil guy.

Adam is _not_ a geek!

So being a geek's worse than being evil?

I'm keeping a little bit of distance between myself and Adam. I _want_ to hold him – but I can't get it out of my head that it could suddenly be the Wry Man I'm embracing.

'If there's no connection,' I ask unsurely, 'does that mean Graham isn't the Wry Man either?'

_He_ brought _the Wry Man here!_

He wanted us dead.

Well, or our looks damaged.

As we've already agreed; same thing.

'I don't see how he _can_ be!'

'But we all saw it; how you all changed, one from the other.'

'But was it just a trick of the Wry Man's? To confuse us?'

'Why? I mean, why confuse us in that particular way?'

'So we no longer trust each other?'

'No no; I think that, somehow, you _are_ all the same person.' Aren't I a prime example of how it's possible to be three people all at once? 'Although, how it works, I'm not too sure.'

We exchange puzzled glances. The girls are also unsure what we're dealing with here.

'When Graham was trying to make sense of it all,' I say, 'with all his holograms and what have you; did it make any sense to _you_?'

Adam frowns as he thinks about this.

'Strangely enough,' he answers after a pause, 'now that I'm thinking about it again, _some_ of it did. And I don't quite know why; but I _think_ it's something to do with the equipment he has at the university.'

Hey, we're going to university!

*

_What_ are _we doing_ here _?_

We're heading down the back corridors of the university. We entered through a small back door, one for maintenance crews.

Time we went to the police.

Too true – what do I tell them?

Er...

That your life's in danger?

Great! And who's endangering my life.

The Wry – no! Graham, of course!

The geek, right? Who the police have already let off for making a movie we thought would get him locked up?

_Well, okay – have it_ your _way._

_It's not like_ we _can die screaming in agony again, is it?_

You didn't die screaming in agony in the _first_ place!

_Didn't I say I didn't_ like _tuna sandwiches?_

And are you saying our deaths don't really count if we didn't die screaming in agony?

I'm not saying that at _all_ , as you–

'There'll be a guard on duty up here we have to sneak past.'

Adam knows his way around these back ways, saying he's worked here before. He knows roughly when the guard will be taking his break, when the best time is to slip across the hallway, when to get back inside the warren of corridors.

'Did you always have to sneak past the guard when you worked here?'

It's a joke, obviously: but as I say it, Adam narrows his eyes, like it's a serious question he has to ponder before answering.

'You know,' he says, hesitantly. 'I seem to remember that I _did_!'

'You're kidding me, right?'

He shakes his head, looking as puzzled as I am.

'You're _not_ kidding me?'

'What would a maintenance man be doing sneaking past a guard?'

It's the question I was just going to ask him; but obviously, he doesn't know the answer either, seeing as how he's just asked himself the same question.

*

When we get to this room of Graham's, won't it be locked?

And how come he knows where it is anyway?

'Adam, are we going the right way?'

'Sure, Graham's room is pretty close now!'

'How'd you know? How do you know where Graham's room is?'

'Because I've been there so many times before, of course, when I–'

He stops mid-sentence.

He looks at me, confusion in his face.

'I _have_ been here many times! But how–'

_He_ is _Graham!_

'You _are_ connected to Graham in some way: you have his memories!'

'But until I met you, I never even knew he existed! It's not possible that I could be connected to him! In _any_ way!'

'How do we get into his room? Won't it be locked?'

'Of course it's locked. But I hide the key–'

His eyes spring open wide in surprise.

' _I_ hide the key? You said, " _I_ hide the key."'

I don't like the way this is going!

It's a trap!

He's led you here on purpose!

No, no: I don't think so.

Adam seems genuinely confused, genuinely worried.

He's trying to work out what's going on, how it could be that he remembers the way Graham sneaks into the university, where he hides his key.

'My times at school, this wonderful school I told you about? I'm...I'm no longer sure they are _my_ memories?'

'How _can't_ they be your memories?'

He still appears bewildered. He's still struggling to work out how he knows so much about Graham.

'Because now, when I try and think of more of my life; there's just an awful lot of _big_ gaps in it. Yet all that about Graham getting treatment over the years? I _can_ remember some of that!'

He now looks like he's wondering if he's going crazy.

'But I _can't_ remember now how I supposedly got all that info about Graham from the police computer. I think, _now_ , that I was just telling you what I _already_ know!'

He looks me directly in the face, innocently wide eyed.

'Oh God, Amina! I don't know how; but somehow, I reckon I really _am_ Graham!'

*

# Chapter 22

Told you!

And we kissed him! Yukkk!

It makes me want a shower; really!

Graham's room looks like the storage facility for a laboratory, with every type of computer you can think of crammed in here.

The most striking feature is two massive slabs of crystal, each higher than a man, connected by multiple wires to the machines. Even though the electricity isn't switched on, the crystals glow like huge sections of pure ice.

I was hoping it would be a bit more Frankenstein-like in here.

Yeah, all flashing electrodes–

Dead body pieces.

Igor.

'How do we switch it on?'

'Over here.'

Adam clicks a few switches, pushes a few more buttons.

The monitors start up. I don't know what I was expecting to come up on the screens, but it just seems to be scenes from games Graham has been playing.

'That's it?' I say disappointed. 'From what Graham had said before, I was hoping this could be some form of beam transporter.'

As I stare at the crystal blocks, they begin to glow even brighter, even to crackle, once again like ice.

'Even Graham thought that was beyond him,' Adam chuckles. 'But he saw the lattice structure of the crystals as a way of storing massive pieces of information; even his own memory impulses, his thoughts. So that playing the games became a virtual reality, with no controls.'

'He was connected to his machine?'

'By thoughts, not wires.'

'Hmn, you really _do_ have this inner geek, don't you?'

'Thanks,' he grins. 'You really _do_ have a way of flattering people, don't you?'

No kissing, please!

He considers the glowing crystals intently, frowning in concentration, like he's trying to recall Graham's memories of how it works.

'This inner geek – or Graham, as we call him – based his experiments on the fact that space is actually malleable, like jelly...'

The jelly bit I understand.

'...pushed and shaped by the gravity of every object; an _interference_ of the _gravity_ field, the _particles_ making up gravity.'

That's it; now he's lost me.

'Now if _objects_ can do that, just think what something as powerful as a mind – especially a warped, incredibly furious and unique mind like Graham's – can do to those fields. And what did he want more than anything?'

He turns to face me.

'Revenge on us?'

'He wanted _you_! But yes, as he couldn't have you, as you hurt him, he wanted you to suffer. It began as a game, conjuring up someone he could use to plague you with, someone he could call on for help–'

'The Wry Man.'

'And somewhere along the line,' he gently touches the great sparkling, crackling slabs with respect and awe, 'that man was beamed into existence.'

*

'But how come Graham hadn't recognised that he'd created the Wry Man?'

'Would you like to admit you'd created someone like that? Seems to me it was the Wry Man who worked it out before Graham did. Maybe because it was the malign parts of Graham who'd actually wanted all this to happen in the first place; sort of subconsciously forcing Graham's experiments in this direction. But the important point is, if the power of the mind _has_ created this man – well, then _maybe_ you can use _your_ mind to _interfere_ with his creation.'

We have to fight him with our minds?

We're doomed.

'And you can help, right?'

'Er, I'm not sure I can...'

'Why not?'

He gives me a wry grin.

'Graham didn't just want to conjure up into existence that evil side of him that would exact revenge. There was also the side of him that loved you: the person he really wanted to be.'

His eyes are sad.

'You,' I say as it dawns on me at last. 'He created _you_ too!'

*

# Chapter 23

'So if we kill the Wry Man – we also kill you too?'

_Don't worry about it, Amina: we aren't_ going _to kill the Wry Man._

_He's going to kill_ us _!_

Again!

Adam shrugs.

'I'm not supposed to exist anyway.'

'But you _do_ exist! You're _here_ , now!'

'I can't see how we can kill the Wry Man and yet I end up surviving.'

He gazes forlornly at the large crystals.

Couldn't we just destroy the machine?

Wouldn't that be easier than using our minds?

Sure, and then Adam _does_ die!

We don't know that for sure!

'What happens if the machine is destroyed? Or even if the crystals are damaged?'

He looks at me like he's a little upset that I've already contemplated such a thing.

'To be honest – I'm not sure. Maybe it works: we both vanish. Maybe as we're already created, it has no effect. And it may be you're destroying the only thing that might have some control over him.'

'But do we know how to work the machine to control him anyway?'

I look over the machine's countless controls and switches.

Adam shakes his head miserably.

'Not even Graham would know that: he didn't even realise he _had_ created the Wry Man, remember? So he wouldn't know _how_ he did do it, or how the connection between him and the machine works. Graham can't have seen the Wry Man being formed; I suspect he just appeared when Graham felt most desperate for his help.'

'Like you appeared when I was desperate for help,' I say with a light-hearted laugh, recalling the relief I'd felt when Adam had come to my rescue when I'd felt threatened by Graham.

He grins, no doubt glad to see that I still think of him as one of the good guys.

Then his eyes narrow a little, like he's thinking things through once more. And I think I know what he's thinking.

'Did _I_ create you Adam? _Not_ Graham?'

*

'I don't see how it's possible; you're not connected to the machine.'

'But then, neither is Graham; not with wires and electrodes anyway. As you said, it now all works through thought patterns.'

'Yeah, but he's been on this machine so long, he's become a part of it.'

'And didn't you say he loved me? Didn't he play out his fantasies of getting his own back on me on here? All his memories of me; all stored in the mind of this machine.'

'But I'm a _part_ of Graham...'

'The _good_ part. The part of Graham I needed when he was threatening me. The memories and thought patterns of the good Graham were all stored somewhere in the machine; and when I needed you, you came into existence.'

I look over towards the glittering crystals with a newly discovered awe and understanding. I approach them, stroke them, sensing the incredible power lying within them.

'And as Graham also hated Pearl and Chloe...'

I whirl around, excited.

'They also contain _memories_ of Pearl and Chloe.'

'Which means?'

I pause, biting my lips. I feel so close to resolving something, and yet...

'I don't know,' I admit. 'For a brief moment, I just felt sure I could...'

'Just wishful thinking probably, I'm afraid.'

He smiles sadly. I want to hold him, yet...I'm not _quite_ ready for that just yet.

Have you two finished yet?

Talk about leaving us out of the conversation.

I didn't understand most of that!

Yeah, how come you're suddenly taking an interest in all this geek stuff?

I'm hoping to get rid of the Wry Man, of course!

Some hope!

_See,_ I've _been working on a_ foolproof _plan! And, well, the easiest and best way, you ask me, is to just kill Graham._

You've had _that_ plan for years!

_No I haven't! Well, not literally! But now we have good_ reason _for it!_

It's not that easy.

_Oh,_ I'll _do it!_

How hard can it be whe–

I mean if getting rid of the Wry Man would be that easy, don't you think he'll make sure Graham comes to no harm?

Might not.

_And he's still a_ weak _spot, isn't he?_

'Adam, do you think that killing Graham might...'

I leave the rest unsaid. If killing Graham kills the Wry Man, it might also kill Adam.

'It's...it's something you _do_ have to consider!'

'You're going to _kill_ me?'

Graham appears alongside us out of nowhere.

And with him, grinning with satisfaction, is the Wry Man.

*

# Chapter 24

'That's what the Rye Man had warned me! That you'd be wanting to kill me!'

Graham's both furious and yet tearful.

He's hurt by the knowledge we were prepared to kill him. And now he wants to hurt us for daring to think such a thing.

'It's only right, isn't it,' the Wry Man sneers, 'that I warn my creator of his imminent doom? Particularly when your so-called plan won't actually work: destroying the creator doesn't destroy the created.'

'We have your word on that, do we?' Adam asks scornfully.

In a way, I hope what the Wry Man is saying is true: because that surely also means, of course, that Adam won't be destroyed either if Graham is killed.

Somehow, the Wry Man is implying, they have each become separate from each other.

The good. The geek. And the downright evil.

Three manifestations of Graham: but each now completely different.

'And you!' Graham storms at me. 'Why did you create _him_!'

He indicates Adam with an irate nod of his head, glaring at him as if prepared to kill him at any moment.

' _He's_ me, isn't he? So why couldn't you love _me_?'

'If...if I'd known there was so much goodness in you...'

'Goodness?' He laughs bitterly. 'Oh, _that's_ what makes him so attractive, is it?'

'Goodness! We _are_ letting our tempers fray a little here, aren't we?'

The Wry Man smiles like he's the nicest person you could possibly want to know.

'Oh, and you're right about your friends!' Graham snaps at me scornfully as he reverently draws closer to the looming crystals. 'Everything about them, it's all in here; photos, videos, class records, medicals. I purchased or took everything I needed to recreate them in my _games_.'

'Then...then they could be recreated, like Adam...?'

I have to be careful that I don't allow Graham to work out what I might be intending – hoping – to be able to do.

The Wry Man sniggers maliciously.

'Ah, you see yourself as an _accomplished_ creator now, do you?'

So my intentions were clear after all. I might as well ask outright if it's possible,

'All I want to do is give life back to my friends; the life _you_ took from them.'

'But if you recreate them, my dear, does that mean _I_ haven't fulfilled my contract?'

He raises his eyebrows archly, like he's discussing an imponderable moral dilemma.

'Graham: would you release him from that part of his contract?'

I look to Graham hopefully.

'You said it wasn't your intention to have Chloe and Pearl killed, after all,' I add.

'Of course,' he answers after a short, thoughtful pause. 'If only to see if you really can achieve this!'

I hope you know what you're doing, Amina!

l look to the Wry Man, wondering if he really will allow me to try and revive Pearl and Chloe.

He gives his consent with a silent wave of a hand and a lowering of his head.

'If you really are so _desperate_...' he says.

Yes, yes; I'm desperate!

But what if this goes wrong!

I close my eyes, think only of all the wonderful memories I have.

I want Pearl back like I've never wanted anything else more.

As I open my eyes, Pearl comes into life before me.

*

Both Adam and Graham look amazed.

The Wry Man, naturally, is simply amused.

Pearl however, is even more amazed than either Adam or Graham.

And so is Chloe.

_You did it! I can't believe it! And didn't you_ fail _science?_

Pearl rushes towards me, throws her arms about me.

Kisses me time and time again on my cheeks

'Oh my God, Amina! How _am_ I going to explain this to Mum and Dad?'

To anyone! But who cares? Me next, me next!

Yes, yes; Chloe next!

Wait, wait!

What's wrong?

_You know how I had a_ little _trouble with zits now and again, well could you..._

Chloe!

Okay okay; but remember my sparkling green eyes, right?

Did you really...?

_Amina! Just_ do _it!_

*

'Amazing, amazing! And my hair's _still_ wonderful – and you've give me a zit!'

Chloe halts her elated twirl as she feels a small spot on her chin.

'Chloe!'

'But my eyes; have I got my sparkling green eyes back?'

She looks excitedly about her for a mirror.

'You never had spa – wait, you have, you have!' Pearl turns away from Chloe to petulantly pout at me. 'Amina! Why didn't you give _me_ sparkling green eyes?'

'You two! Honestly!'

'We're only kidding!'

'Are we?'

'There there; all things restored!' the Wry Man says gaily. 'Everything happily back to as it all was before...well, before _I_ came into existence.'

He smiles, yet still manages to appear irredeemably malicious,

'You know,' he adds, glaring at the crystals. 'I think this machine is dangerous, don't you?'

With the shattering shiver of breaking ice flows, a crack appears in the crystal along the very area where the Wry Man is intently staring.

The crack grows rapidly, the sound of shattering growing with it until it feels like it's your own head that's splitting apart.

The crystal slabs completely splinter, exploding outwards towards the room's glass windows. As the uncountable pieces of crystal shatter the glass, flying out into the air, the whole of the machine begins to explode, taking out even the walls of the room.

'Quick, we need to get out!' screams Chloe.

*

# Chapter 25

As one – strangely enough – we all dash for the door, Adam following on close behind.

Out in the hall, we head for the staircase, rushing down the steps as fast as we safely can.

Behind us, the explosions continue. The whole building rumbles and quakes. The steps quiver, the metal railings shrieking,

There's going to be nothing left of Graham's machine. Nothing, even of the room.

Glancing behind me, I realise for the first time that neither Graham nor the Wry Man are following us.

It might be an awful thing to hope for, but I hope they're still there; still in the exploding room.

It would solve so many problems so conveniently.

Too conveniently. I can't believe it's all going to finish so quickly and easily.

The Wry Man caused those explosions, I'm sure. Which means he must have known he would survive them.

For the first time, Chloe and Pearl are running for their lives alongside me, rather than expecting me to do all the physical work for them.

Maybe now they'll realise it's a lot more exhausting than it looks!

*

As we throw ourselves with relieved groans onto the university's lawn, the explosions are still continuing. They're taking away almost the whole upper corner of the building we've just fled.

Already, people are gathering to watch. In the distance, sirens are blaring, the emergency services on their way.

'We need to get out of here before the police start asking questions,' Pearl declares, surprisingly rising back to her feet remarkably quickly.

'How'd we survive _that_?' I ask with a relieved grin at Adam as we help each other to stand.

'Because he wanted us to, I'm sure!'

Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. But I was hoping no one else would agree with me.

'Chloe?'

Chloe's lying face down on the grass, Pearl concernedly leaning over her and giving her a gentle shake.

Pearl glances up at us, her face contorted with fear, her eyes brimming with tears.

'Chloe's _dead_!'

*

# Chapter 26

'How can she be dead?'

'She just ran out with us!'

We kneel down alongside Pearl, hoping she's made a mistake.

Perhaps Chloe's just been knocked unconscious, probably when she dived onto the lawn.

When we carefully turn her over, however, we see the blood around her heart, the small piece of sharp crystal embedded in her chest.

'When she dived on the lawn,' Adam says sadly, 'she must've landed on it.'

Chloe _dead_?

Again?

Pearl glances up at me, her eyes sparkling with hope.

'Is she...?'

I shake my head.

No; she's not inside me again.

And suddenly, Pearl's weeping. She never wept, of course, for Chloe the first time she died.

She'd never wept for herself either.

But now, now it seems so much more like a real death, in ways it hadn't before.

I'm crying too now.

Adam draws closer, places a comforting arm around my shoulder, pulls me in towards him.

'We _have_ to go...'

'But Chloe: we can't just leave...'

Chloe's body seems to shiver, until I recognise it's the effect of disintegrating, dissolving particles. In less than a second, her body has gone, leaving only a small, unbloodied piece of crystal on the glass.

'Does that mean she never really...?'

I don't want to complete my question – _existed_. Adam understands my concern however.

'No, I'm sure she did; but now her soul has gone, completely gone.'

I pick up the piece of crystal.

'Such a small thing...'

Pearl rises to her feet, drying her face.

'We have to go,' she says resolutely. 'We need to work out how we're going to rid ourselves of this Wry Man!'

*

'He tricked me, didn't he?'

I have to be honest with myself about this.

The Wry Man had been unnerved by the unexpected presence of Chloe and Pearl within me.

It had given me an extra boost of physical strength. He might have feared that it had also given me other powers that might threaten him.

He'd somehow used Adam, at first, to try and persuade me to stop believing the girls were still alive. Maybe he'd even worked through Adam to block off the girls from talking to me.

When that hadn't worked, he'd used _me_. My own vanity. Letting me flatter myself I could recreate Chloe and Pearl.

And the Wry Man, of course, had aided me every step of the way.

Once we were separated, we were just normal girls once again.

So much easier to kill. To remove anyone who might cause him problems.

'But why didn't he kill us all? In the explosion, I mean?'

'Because; I don't think he really wants to kill _you_.'

Adam pulls a thoughtful expression, like he's been trying to work all this out.

'Think about it,' he continues. 'Graham loves you; sure, he hates you for turning him down, humiliating him – but he wants you to be impressed by him, maybe even fear him for the power he has over you, rather than continuing to see him as this ridiculous geek.'

'So you think he'll leave me alone?'

'No; to fulfil everything I've just said, he knows he has to remove anyone he thinks is keeping you from him. Friends, maybe even family.'

'Let's not forget, too, that he's sending kids' souls to this monster.'

'But is he? Sending them to himself? It's more likely this was originally some way of distancing himself from the Wry Man's murderous actions; by kidding himself he's a victim too, being forced to make these "payments".'

'None of this, of course, helps us work out how we're going to defeat them; Graham and this Wry Man.'

'What do they do in the movies?' Pearl asks. 'You know, like setting up some sort of power backfeed?'

'Or maybe destroying the mother-ship?'

'No need to be sarcy; I'm only trying to help.'

'Sure, sorry; I'll _try_ and be positive rather than negative.'

'Hey, would _that_ work? Changing the charg – oh, sorry, sorry!'

'You know what?' I say resignedly. 'I think we really _are_ just going to have to kill Graham!'

Betcha missed me, right?

'It's Chloe!' I cry out happily to Pearl and Adam. 'She's _back_!'

*

# Chapter 27

My wings flap powerfully, effortlessly.

As natural as breathing.

I soar over the town, looking for any signs of the Wry Man and Graham.

I'm so high, no one on the ground should see me. Sure, anyone flying past might catch a glimpse; but they won't believe what they're seeing.

An angel, sparkling in gold and silver. My wings vast and incredibly beautiful.

Where have you been? I'd asked Chloe with relief when she'd at last appeared within me once more.

I needed time; time to work out just what an angel's capable of.

And then I had grown my wings. I had shone as if made of sunlight.

'Wow, why can't _I_ have hair like that?' Pearl had breathed excitedly. 'Life's _so_ unfair!'

Now, from high in the air, I'm seeking any signs that will point me to the Wry Man. I can see the ground clearly, my vision remarkably clear and precise.

Not that I need it.

Spotting Graham is far, far easier than I thought it would be.

He's finally recognised that he's acquired a whole host of unusual powers. And he's enjoying himself, treating reality as he would some easily manipulated game-scape.

Thankfully, he's in a quiet part of town. One that's mainly empty this time of day, when everyone's at work or school. Added to that, he's in a scrap yard, one mainly full of old cars, but also strewn with other chiefly metallic junk.

He's bent quite a few of the scrapped cars into elaborate shapes, like modern sculptures.

He's acquainting himself with his new skills. Getting used to them.

Obviously, he no longer fears that someone might notice him and call the police. Which is worrying; he must already feel pretty confident.

I let Adam and Pearl know where Graham's hanging out.

Using the miracle of cellphones, of course.

Well, I suppose even angels have to move with the times.

*

I land gracefully a few steps away from Graham.

He not only looks surprised, but also completely awestruck.

'Amina? Oh my God! Amina! You're more beautiful than ever!'

He begins to stride towards me as if expecting to take me up in his arms. To lift me up off my feet, to whirl me around in jubilation.

Stay right there!

It isn't me who says that. It's Chloe. And Graham can hear her.

'Chloe?' He chuckles happily. 'You were wrong,' he says calmly, turning towards the Wry Man. 'She _did_ come back.'

The Wry Man shrugs, like it's no big deal, no big problem.

But the Wry Man can get things wrong. That's interesting, surely?

'Maybe you're going to have to finish her off after all: your girlfriend, I mean.'

Graham looks mortified by the Wry Man's suggestion.

'No, no; not the gorgeous Amina.'

He turns to face me, his expression one of complete innocence.

'I could never hurt _you_ , Amina. Well, not unless I absolutely _have_ to, obviously.'

'So, my dear: what is it you're actually expecting to do here?'

The Wry Man smirks, as if he knows I haven't had the chance to work out how I intend to end all this.

I'm hoping, I suppose, that I can rid us all of the Wry Man while somehow ensuring Graham lives – even though there's a side of me (particularly one called Chloe) that thinks he doesn't deserve to.

'You've been brought into existence by an interference of the light and gravity fields,' I say to the Wry Man.

He nods, an impressed expression on what passes for his face.

'That, I presume, is Adam's take on all this? Rather than your own?'

Why are we explaining all this? Just kill him!

Adam said the more he fears what were capable of, the weaker he'll be.

Oh, and Adam's suddenly our only brain, is he?

I nod graciously in reply to the Wry Man's question.

'And what is an angel but an interplay of light and gravity?'

The Wry Man breaks into a mock yawn.

'Adam again! You really _must_ learn to think for yourself, girl!'

Amen to that!

I agree. The talking is over.

I hurl a ball of condensed light towards the Wry Man.

But, thanks to the stupid warning I've just given them, Graham is ready for it.

The rows of stacked, wrecked cars lying either side of me abruptly warp into waves of flowing metal. The metallic waves swiftly curl around me, some wrapping closely about me. Others take the flying ball of light into their whirling motion, sending it flying off uselessly into the air.

With a whip of my wings, I leap into the air, flying up and out of the rapidly constraining grip of the coiling metal waves. The waves briefly follow me, ascending higher and higher like writhing serpents. Eventually, the coiling waves run out of energy or metal to draw on, becoming ever thinner. At last, they start dropping away like exhausted giant beanstalks.

I try to hit the Wry Man with another orb of sheer light, a condensed gravity field compacting even light and sound waves.

Again, though, Graham uses his control of matter to spin flowing streams of metal protectively around him. The curling waves absorb and redirect most of the sphere's force, redirecting and dragging it along into their own movement like a child on a waterslide.

The orb explodes, disintegrating only the metal around it. It's too far away from the Wry Man for him to suffer any damage.

'Isn't this _amazing_ , Amina?' Graham chuckles elatedly. 'I dissolve the linking gravity field, restoring a new one of my own choice!'

There are other, more urgent cries, this time coming from the scrapyard's large, wooden gates. The small door in one of them opens. Adam rushes into the yard, Pearl closely following behind him.

'Stay away,' I yell out a warning. 'He's more dangerous than–'

Graham takes advantage of the distraction. Not to hit me, but to strike out at the one I've just displayed so much concern for.

He doesn't even bother making it an elaborate attack either. He simply warps the piles of wreckage Adam is running by, de-stabling them enough to send them crashing to the ground everywhere about him.

Then as an old steering wheel shaft snaps and breaks free in the chaos of screeching metal, Graham propels it towards Adam's heart. As fast and as deadly as a spear.

The bar of speeding, rusted iron effortlessly skewers Adam.

He falls, his death so swift he doesn't even have time to express any shock on his face.

*

# Chapter 28

I told you we should have killed Graham!

She's right.

I'm about to swoop down to Adam's side, even though I don't think there's anything even I can do for him. Thankfully, Chloe senses in my movement what I'm intending to do.

No! We'll only make ourselves an easy target.

She's right again.

The main thing now is avenging Adam; and yes, that means killing Graham!

'His death's all _your_ fault, Amina!'

Graham is shouting at me. He's almost at a similar height to me now, having risen up high on one of his soaring waves of flowing metal.

'You should have chosen _me_ , not him!'

Glancing back down towards the wooden gates, I'm relieved to see that at least Pearl has taken the sensible course and ducked back through the door. There's nothing she can do here.

She would be the next to be killed if she stayed.

Amina! Fly!

Without waiting to ask why, I surge forward with a sharp snap of my wings. Behind me, a globe of metal whooshes through the air.

Graham has worked out another way of using his talents. Although he can't reach this high with his flowing metallic rivers, he's discovered he can make them whip like slings, throwing separated spheres of flowing metal.

The Wry Man is simply watching all this with an amused grin. He's not the least bit anxious that he could end up losing this battle.

He thinks he's already won, doesn't he?

What?

I can't hide my surprise, my confusion.

Did I just hear that right?

He thinks he's already won; but he hasn't!

Yes, I _did_ hear that right.

It's _Adam_ – and now _he's_ inside me too.

*

# Chapter 29

Wow, I never realised it would be so amazing being an angel!

I never realised being an angel would be so crowded!

While these two have their little chat, I'm concentrating on avoiding the huge ballbearings Graham is continuing to fling at us. Either that or use my own balls of light to shatter them before they get close.

Maybe we should get out of here!

But Adam isn't listening to me. He's still too wrapped up in his amazement that we can pick out the smallest objects on the ground, even when flying so high.

You can see all the pieces of crystal! They weren't destroyed in the explosion! They were all just scattered over a greater distance!

Wow, let's take a sightseeing tour, should we? And on my left, we have...

No, no: I mean you have to start destroying the crystals, Amina! Now!

I can't think why the pieces of smashed crystal are so important. But it's quite easy to spot the glowing crystals. It's also easy to instantly obliterate them with a focusing of nothing more than a thought, a converging of both light and gravity that over excites the crystal lattice.

Suddenly, the balls of metal being flung by the whipping waves of steel aren't reaching so high anymore. The waves themselves aren't curling as high as they were only moments ago either.

The power of the crystals comes from their interference of the light and gravity fields. They're quite easy to sense, even when they're far away, even when small and otherwise hidden. A thought of contracted light and gravity sends them wildly vibrating, forcing them into self-destruction.

As more and more of the crystal pieces snap out of existence, Graham's power begins to wane. The waves of flowing metal are now relatively small. He's back on the ground, the wave he was riding no longer capable of supporting him.

Even the Wry Man is starting to look a little worried.

_Just as a hologram continues to exist in_ every _piece when it's smashed, scattering the shattered crystals has simply spread the power of the interfered gravity field!_

Then we need to destroy every one!

There are few pieces left. The Wry Man at last looks like he's making an effort to help Graham fight us. Glancing up towards the section of the row of wrecked cars looming over him, he's causing them to slide and move as if readying himself to fling them at us.

The semi-flattened wrecks shuffle like a giant's cards. Then, losing energy, begin to slide over each other, the huge pile leaning and toppling.

With the shrieks of grating steel, they crash down – burying the Wry Man beneath their great weight of contorted metal.

*

He must have been weaker than he thought!

Don't take any chances: get rid of every last piece of crystal!

We don't want him suddenly throwing everything off! Like you see in the movies!

Tracing the very last piece of crystal, I send it quivering, shaking, shattering into pieces far too small to cause us any trouble. Then I swoop down, heading towards the crumpled pile of cars: we need to check that the Wry Man has actually died.

Something massive and heavy suddenly barges into my side. It knocks me way off to the side, my wings briefly crumpling under the agonising impact.

Before I can gather my wits, another equally huge chain of rust-covered links bludgeons into me from another direction. It whips me up into the air, like a bird with broken wings.

The cranes! Graham's using the cranes!

We forgot all about Graham!

But all the pieces are destroyed! He shouldn't have any power left!

The scrapyard boasts three towering cranes, for lifting the wrecks into place. Now they're writhing as if alive, as if made of the most flexible material ever invented.

Their chains lash out at me like whips, each strike more painful, more damaging than the last.

I plummet towards the ground, landing on the hard earth with bone-jarring impact. Before I can move, the metal of the nearby wrecks snakes out towards me, coiling around my already irreparably damaged wings like rapidly spreading vines.

I'm trapped. No matter how much I struggle to free myself, I can't move.

Withdraw the wings! We sprouted them; we can pull them in!

I can't, I can't! They must have suffered too much damage!

'Obviously, my dear girl,' a voice sneers, growing louder as the speaker unhurriedly draws closer, 'you _missed_ a piece!'

Unfortunately, it's not Graham.

Its the Wry Man.

*

# Chapter 30

'I saw you...saw you crushed beneath the cars!'

Even as I say this, I realise I'm wrong. I can see the pile of toppled cars.

Alongside it, I can also see a broken pair of spectacles.

Graham's spectacles.

'Hah; you swapped places with Graham, didn't you?'

He nods, grins.

'There was too little power for us to continue sharing it.'

'And the crystal piece I missed? Where's that?'

He chuckles.

'Now that _would_ be telling, wouldn't it?'

'Actually,' I say, tiredly, 'I'm glad there's one last piece: otherwise, I wouldn't be able to do this.'

I think Adam into existence.

And he stands before me.

He looks shocked, even angry.

'Amina! You shouldn't be wasting your–'

I think Chloe into existence.

And she stands before me.

She's even angrier than Adam.

'Amina, you idiot! We can't hope to beat this guy now!'

She's right.

I'm no longer an angel, of course.

At least, I'm no longer bound by the metallic coils that had wrapped around my wings. I rise to my feet, shrugging off the agony I still feel in every bone.

Fortunately, it seems, being an angel has saved me from suffering the very worst damage; but I'm still painfully bruised.

And that's when I realise where the very last piece of crystal is.

*

# Chapter 31

I couldn't sense it earlier, of course.

It was veiled from me, by the interference of light and gravity caused by my own angelic body.

The crystal was just one more, smaller source of interference hidden amongst much greater energy fluctuations.

It's the crystal that originally killed Chloe.

The piece I'd slipped into my pocket.

I withdraw it, stare at it in wonder. If only I'd known earlier that I still had it on me.

The Wry Man chortles merrily.

'Oh dear; so you've found it? But thankfully, you're no longer capable of destroying it.'

He holds out his hand expectantly, waiting for me to hand it over.

Pearl chooses that moment to open the small door in the gates and stride into the yard. She's no doubt wondering why it's all gone so quiet in here.

Everyone briefly glances her way, even the Wry Man.

When he turns to face me, he frowns irately when I show him that my hands are empty. That I'm no longer holding the crystal.

'But where did you–'

His voice is fading. His whole body is fading.

Dissolving. Pixilating.

I'm not telling him how I destroyed the crystal, of course. I remain tight-lipped.

His face contorts through stages of confusion, anger – fear.

And then, at last, he's no more.

*

# Chapter 32

'How...where's the crystal?'

Adam asks the question, but I can see by the expressions on Pearl and Chloe's faces that they also want to know how I managed to destroy the piece of crystal.

'I suppose my stomach acids are getting rid of the very last of it,' I say, giving them a less than beatific smile.

Crunching the crystal has made a complete mess of my once amazingly gorgeous zirconia teeth.

*

'How'd you know your teeth would be strong enough?'

Again, this might be the question the girls would also want to ask. Then again, they might have preferred to ask how I could do such a thing to such perfectly beautiful teeth.

'Calcite is a polymorph of calcium carbonate with a Mohs hardness of three – oh, did _I_ just say that?'

I've no idea where that thought came from, where I'd learned that fact.

'Oh no, Amina!' wails Chloe. 'Letting Adam take up residence for a while has instilled a bit of Graham's _geekiness_ in you!'

'I think by _geekiness_ she means _intelligence_ ,' Adam grins, slipping his arm around my waist as we walk out of the scrapyard.

'Come to think of it: how _did_ Adam come to take up residence? He _couldn't_ have had a soul – could he?'

'Well, obviously he'd _acquired_ one,' I answer, having briefly wondered this myself.

'You can't just _acquire_ a soul – can you?' Pearl says, frowning doubtfully.

'Maybe you can if someone has given up their right to theirs.'

'Graham? You mean Graham?'

I nod.

'And it's a good job too, of course; as it's probably only because of your souls that you're all still here. Despite every last piece of the crystals having been destroyed.'

I reach into my pocket, this time withdrawing not a crystal but Graham's glasses. I'd picked them up before leaving the yard.

I slip them onto Adam's face, messing up his hair as I do.

'There,' I say proudly, even though I accompany it with a broken, doubtful grin. 'Now if the eyesight of Graham's parents is as bad as his, you might be able to pass off as their son.'

'Not unless he ditches the leathers he won't.'

'And how're we going to tell _our_ parents that, Hey, you know what guys? We're actually _still_ alive!'

'You figured out how to defeat the Wry Man,' Adam says. 'So you can figure out what to tell your parents.'

'You know what?' I say. 'No matter what excuse we give them – they'll just have to live with it, won't they?'

End

If you enjoyed reading this book, you might also enjoy (or you may know someone else who might enjoy) these other books by Jon Jacks.

The Caught – The Rules – Chapter One – The Changes – Sleeping Ugly

The Barking Detective Agency – The Healing – The Lost Fairy Tale

A Horse for a Kingdom – Charity – The Most Beautiful Things (Now includes The Last Train)

The Dream Swallowers – Nyx; Granddaughter of the Night – Jonah and the Alligator

Glastonbury Sirens – Dr Jekyll's Maid – The 500-Year Circus – The Desire: Class of 666

P – The Endless Game – DoriaN A – Wyrd Girl – The Wicker Slippers

Heartache High (Vol I) – Heartache High: The Primer (Vol II) – Heartache High: The Wakening (Vol III)

Miss Terry Charm, Merry Kris Mouse & The Silver Egg – The Last Angel – Eve of the Serpent

Seecrets – The Cull – Dragonsapien – The Boy in White Linen – Porcelain Princess – Freaking Freak

Coming Soon

Queen of all the Knowing World

