Layton had never seen anything like it before.

The girl was standing over the body, the knife tightly clutched in her hand. She was bleeding badly from her wrists and Layton could hear her making an effort to stifle the noise of her sobs.

"I'm... not..." she whispered. Her voice was light but laced with malice and hatred. "I'm... not... mother..." Before Layton could even register anything, the girl turned the knife on herself and drove it right through her palm. Layton gasped, but she showed no sign of pain or discomfort. She pulled out the knife and the wound began to heal up instantly, far too quickly and in an inhuman way.

"Mr Layton, there is nothing to see here," she said coolly. Layton stiffened - how did she know his name and that he was there? "But if you want a memento of your time watching me from behind, here." She turned around and held out a small gem. Layton was surprised by the girl's face - the irises in her eyes were pitch black and her mouth was curled into a thin smile. She seemed to possess more adult qualities than not. "Take it. It's not mine, anyway."

Layton took the gem. When he first touched it, it burned his fingers, but he could touch it again without bother. The girl tilted her head back, staring up at the sky. "If that's all you want from me, I'll be going now." When her head moved back down, her irises were violet. She smiled and spun round, kicking the body into the shadows and tightening her grip on the knife before strolling off. Layton knew she was a problematic child, just from that glance. There was something abnormal about her.

Something beyond his comprehension.

Clive was glad to be out of prison. He'd heard of prisoners counting the days - he hadn't. Screw hope. He let the days blur into a haze. Fresh air was amazing. He'd only had short periods of time outside while in the prison, most of which he had spent on a swing that creaked every time it swung and nobody dared properly swing. People just sat and lightly rocked themselves back and forth. It was a good place to reflect, if you hadn't been doing that already.

And Clive was determined he was never going back to that hellish place. So when he found a ten-year-old girl sitting in a triangle formed by three dead bodies, he thought he should keep his distance and call the police. Except he'd gotten too close and the girl had lunged forwards, ripping open his pocket and grabbing his phone, crushing it in a matter of seconds.

"What's the plan now, Dove?" she asked, her high-pitched voice sending chills up Clive's spine. Not to mention her red irises. They were creepy as hell, but they didn't seem to be coloured contacts. "I'll let you go if you do me a favour."

"What?" Clive asked. He couldn't move. He was stuck in place.

"Hmm... take this and keep it," the girl said, holding out her hand. There was a small gem in it. "You can take it, you can move enough for that." Clive reached out and took the gem, which slightly burned his fingers at first but it calmed. He stuck it in his intact pocket and found himself able to move, at which point he ran for a telephone booth, which exploded.

Clive looked over his shoulder. The girl wasn't there, but he could feel her smile burning right through him.

"Okay, class," Mrs Wilson said cheerfully. "Today, we've got a brand new student. I want you all to be very nice to Shade." Shade was a girl with short stature, her violet eyes giving off the impression that she was bored, as did her slouched posture. "Go and sit next to Luke." Mrs Wilson pointed, though Shade knew who he was without her assistance. She stalked through the rows before perching herself on the chair next to Luke.

"Hello," Luke said cheerfully. He was always happy to see people, and he couldn't sense the malevolent aura coming from Shade. She smiled back.

"Hi," she replied. "What are we studying?"

"Um... algebra," Luke replied. Shade's smile widened.

"My favourite subject!" she said happily.

After the school day had ended, Luke and Shade were nothing short of best friends, though none of Luke's other friends seemed to like her at all. Luke couldn't understand why.

"Would you like to come and stay over?" Luke asked. "Oh, your parents..."

"Don't live in London," Shade replied. "At the moment. They've left to do... whatever they do, so I live alone. They don't care what I do, anyway." Luke nodded. "I'd love to come over."

When Luke got back to Layton's, Clive was sitting in the kitchen and Flora was still upstairs, caught out by a nasty cold. Clive glared at Shade, who smiled sweetly back and followed Luke upstairs.

Luke was completely taken aback when Shade locked the door to his room and pinned him to the wall and he thought his eyes would pop out of his head when she kissed him. It wasn't light, either: she was passionate and lustful, and Luke couldn't even stop himself from relaxing. He couldn't yell when Shade grabbed his baseball bat, because her lips were still on his and he couldn't shove her away, even as she beat in his head.

Clive glared at Shade when she came downstairs. "What did you do this time?" he asked sharply.

"You might want to phone an ambulance," Shade said and yelped as Clive shot forwards, grabbing her collar and slamming her forcefully against the wall. Somehow, he managed to produce a length of rope and tie her up. Shade screamed for a while until Clive gagged her as well. Screw no more crimes - who knew what Shade had done?

Clive hurried upstairs and stared at the entrance to Luke's room. Blood covered the floor and there was a bloody baseball bat lying around. Clive didn't go inside and phoned the police and an ambulance, but by the time he made it downstairs, Shade was gone.

He could still feel her grinning.