The sun began to rise at six the next morning, filtering amidst the London city buildings and in through my window. Its cosy glow warmed my room as it splashed the plain white walls a silky flavescent.

As it drew further over the horizon, however, the glow distorted into a stabbing radiance that attempted to pierce through the dark calm of my slumber. I squeezed my eyelids tight against its efforts, but to no avail. It quickly won out, dragging me roughly into the waking world. No matter how far I tried to reach with my unconscious and latch back onto sleep, I couldn't escape into the dreams that dissolved like shadows in the light.

Such a sunny morning… was my first groggy thought as I came to. It was unusually bright so early… A good minute passed as my muddled mind wrestled with dissipating fantasy and returning reality before I realised something was off. The sun shouldn't have disturbed me at all. My bed was beside the window, not in front of it. Unless…

I opened my eyes, then quickly clenched them shut again with a grunt of surprise, twisting my head away from the glaring sunlight that nearly seared my retinas. For a moment I sat hunched over, too stunned by such a rude awakening to do much else but blink rapidly to rid the sunbursts dancing before my sights. As they slowly melted away I attempted to understand my position in my own bedroom. I knew for certain the window was on my right as I now cautiously squinted while glancing in that direction. And there was the door to my left. And all four walls. And then…there was my bed, free of any sign it'd been slept in and on the other side of the room. That meant… I looked down to see a mess of papers covering what I was now positive was a wooden surface. Yes, it seemed I had fallen asleep, yet again, at my bedroom desk.

Well, that was one mystery solved already, I thought, though it was difficult to feel triumphant when the moment I stretched, pins and needles speared every stiff muscle in my body. I rubbed my aching neck, yawned then blinked blearily as I looked back down at my desk. Talking of mysteries… Some of the papers strewn about were written in my usual organised and neat handwriting, others in a rushed scrawl. But the pages on the very top of the clutter displayed not a single word. I spotted a particularly messy scrap sheet that was scribbled with various numbers and letters all over, like a madman had attempted to crack some code that existed within only his mind. I guess I had been a bit of a madman last night in a way, I admitted as I rested my back against the chair, grasping the sheet and looking it over thoughtfully.

At around seven yesterday evening I'd finished my final drafts for our morning paper and sent the files off to Mary. Though I was glad to have completed at least a small percentage of my work, the emails had seemed to take forever as my eyes were continuously drawn to a very interesting file that had appeared on my computer. I recalled the completely black screen, the lines of green numbers—1s and 2s, 3s and 5s, 8s, 13s, 21s, all the way up to a couple 196418s—typed in the form of an insect. It had looked like something a computer hacker would have created…at least, that's what I imagined based on what Justine had told me about hackers… I'd managed to minimise the puzzle when beginning my drafts but I couldn't help glancing to its icon in the taskbar after every sentence I typed, as if it would disappear if it didn't receive the proper eye contact it deserved. The moment the emails containing my drafts had completed their journey to Mary, I'd clicked on the minimised puzzle, setting to work scanning it over and scribbling out disjointed numbers and letters meant to be theories on what it could represent. Nearly an hour of chicken scratching and hypothesising later, Justine had ducked in to ask about a very late supper.

"Dad, it's eight o'clock. Are you going to have tea or what?" I remembered her asking. "I've made some rice with veg and chicken and it's getting cold so hurry it up!" The mention of food made me realise just how famished I was but my eyes remained glued to the puzzle, my insatiable curiosity winning over my growling stomach.

"In a bit," I replied when I'd finally registered someone had prompted an answer of me.

There was a pause in the conversation, words replaced with approaching footsteps, then, "Alright, who are you and what have you done with Dad?"

This caught my attention. I tore my eyes from the puzzle to look at Justine, who had a hand on her forehead as she squinted at my computer screen. "What do you mean?"

She laughed. "It was a joke, Dad. That looks like some sort of coding, but I know you couldn't possibly have done that. You barely know how to turn the computer on without needing help."

I huddled back over the scrap paper but my now withering gaze was trained on her while I pointed at her matter-of-factly with my pencil. "I'll have you know it took me only two minutes to find the power button this time."

"Brilliant. Maybe you'll learn how to double-click next."

Ignoring her cheek, I returned to my scribbling. "I didn't create this. It was sent to me."

"From a co-worker or something?"

"No, it just appeared when I'd booted up my computer."

"What?" she suddenly yelped. "That's not normal!" I felt a nudge and looked up to see Justine pushing me over to tap away at my keyboard. "You need to get rid of this!"

"No, don't!"

She was poised over the keys as she shot me a stare of emphatic concern, her eyes wide while her brow was knit in utter bafflement. "Dad, this could be some ransomware!"

I tilted my head. "Ransom what?"

"Ransomware. It's a software that locks files or even your whole computer until you pay the culprit money or anything else they'd want!"

"But, I want to solve this puzzle…"

"By solving it, you might be walking straight into their trap!" she nudged me over again. "Budge over so I can try fixing this!"

"Just one second!" I exclaimed when I realised how serious she was. "At least allow me to copy the numbers down." I straightened my glasses. "Or is technology so advanced computer viruses can hack paper now too?"

Now it was her turn to give me a withering look but I ignored it as I flipped to a fresh sheet of notebook paper, writing out the numbered insect. Once finished, I reluctantly conceded, allowing her to tap away until it disappeared.

"Well, it doesn't look like it ruined anything…" Justine mused as she straightened up, keeping a cautious eye on the screen, finger resting on her chin. After a moment she determined it was completely clear then turned to me. "Now, about supper?"

I imagine what met Justine's gaze at this point was my hunched back while I continued to work furiously at the puzzle. The last thing I heard was an exasperated huff before I was dragged by the arm from the office and into the kitchen. I would have escaped back to my desk if Justine hadn't pressured me to stay by holding the now only existing copy of the insect puzzle between her thumbs and forefingers, prepared to rip it to shreds if I so much as looked to the paper before finishing a proper meal.

And now that I was thinking back on it, perhaps for my own survival it was good she had held the puzzle hostage…

After finishing what I admit was a very lovely tea despite it having eaten away at my time, I added another hour's worth of chicken scratches to my scrap sheet before I was compelled to admit temporary defeat lest I went mad with frustration. I had tried many things, from organising the repeating numbers into a list to thinking on what each number might represent in nature to various mathematics operations to looking up insect facts on-line. But these theories had all led to dead ends and only after I had worked so hard to attempt proving them true. With a grunt of irritation, I drew my fingers through my dishevelled hair for the fiftieth time and snapped my pencil down onto the scrap sheet in defeat.

Still feeling the need to sate my curiosity, however, I spent about another hour or so searching through the folder of old, weathered papers given me by Mrs Tysan, hoping I could find more information on that Scroll of the Guardians. While doing so, on occasion the scraps of paper placed on the bodies I had investigated came to mind. The reason I was searching so hard for answers as to what exactly was that Scroll was due to those scraps, so tiny yet surrounded by such a large mystery. Along with the scraps, my suspicion towards the Tysan family pulsed in my chest, like a cautionary, background alarm, reminding me this murder had most likely been planned in advanced and that I could very well play a part in that plan. I still couldn't be sure who amongst the family members the murderer was, if any at all. I had at least ruled out Fayne as when I'd held an informal interview yesterday he had seemed uninformed of his parents' actions. If anyone was the culprit, it would seem logical to assume Mrs Tysan, as she had been acting the most questionable. However, logic wasn't always correct. I hated to admit it, but I knew by first-hand experience there could have been someone else pulling the strings, forcing her to act in a manner to put me off the path of the real murderer. She could be a red herring.

With these encompassing thoughts on my mind, I was energised enough to stay awake despite my desire to sleep. I researched the thousands of pages packed within that folder, searching for answers to the Guardian Scroll which would, hopefully, in turn provide some leads on those scraps set on the bodies and the murderer behind it all. Unfortunately, there had been such a multitude of pages, so many unrelated to the Scroll, so many dead ends I couldn't get through them before my eyelids grew too heavy to keep open any longer.

It was well past midnight by the time my body had forced itself to retire, but my mind refused to slow. Every dream had involved a numbered insect, the circled hourglass, the seven insignias on the Scroll, a faceless figure murdering innocent civilians and leaving behind clues to an even larger mystery. These puzzles seemed to be doggedly pursuing me as much as I was pursuing them…

As I returned from these thoughts, I recalled just how tired I was as a result of my mind's voracious hunting for answers. I yawned again, fighting the urge to drop into bed and close my eyes for just five more minutes, but I couldn't help casting a longing look at the creaseless blankets that beckoned me. Though I typically put all my faith in the Earl Grey I drank each morning to rouse my senses, I had a feeling I'd need more help today. This was my second night in quite a while of enduring such a restless sleep, after all. For a moment I wished I had dreamt of the danger of my own articles crushing me under their weight again. At least then I'd have woken up alert…

I blinked. Danger… Intrigue… That was it. These two elements could keep me attentive and though I couldn't obtain them from my dreams now, I could find them in reality. Right in front of me, in fact. I glimpsed the folder from Mrs Tysan and the scrap sheets with the insect puzzle and my theories regarding it. I'd work hard at the office today, but in between my moments of research, I'd spend several sneaky minutes looking over these mysteries. That way I could stay awake and possibly make some headway on a solution or two…

This was such a snap decision I hadn't given myself time to think of the consequences but as I took the folder in hand, stuffing my scribbled pages on the insect puzzle within, my spontaneity soon melted away to my underlying caution, my hand freezing in the air, hovering over a few more sheets of scribbled paper. I could really hurt my reputation as a journalist if Mary caught me working on puzzles rather than articles. Possibly be sacked even. And then how would I support myself and Justine? And, almost as important, how would I ever teach Richard a lesson in objectivity?

Perhaps… I soon acquiesced with a discouraged frown, reluctantly withdrawing my hand and shoving it in my pocket. Perhaps I would just look these mysteries over at the kitchen table before work… That didn't give me much time, but at least it was something…

With this in mind, I exited my room and began for the bathroom to shower. I was soon stopped short, however, when I noticed Justine's door was open. It was dark in her room, but I could see her outlined in staggering sunlit strips filtering in from between the drawn blinds. I couldn't help but laugh. She too had fallen asleep at her desk and, like me, this wasn't the first time it had happened. Like foster father, like foster daughter, I guess.

In her sleep I could see Justine was clenching her arms loosely in her lap, attempting to ward off a chill. I popped in to find a light blanket, glancing around her room as I did. It was decorated with not pictures of friends, but of posters. They plastered the walls to the point they had practically become wallpaper. A rather large periodic table poster here, a four fundamental forces poster there, one about string theory, one about atoms and quarks… These were all very interesting and I knew far too much about them only because Justine had explained them (or at least attempted) to me, but the one that truly caught my attention was a recently tacked up famous physicists poster. My features stiffened as my eyes instinctively scanned the faces of various researchers. Just as I thought… I noted somewhere in the back of my mind there were at least two scientists in particular missing from that poster, and Justine would never learn about them. I quickly looked away.

Amongst the science posters were also plenty of video game posters. One of a bunch of monsters with humans holding what appeared to be some red-and-white ball. One of a moustached man in red and blue jumping on a…turtle? Where did they get these ideas? One of a man clad in a blue suit like the one I used to wear, his hairstyle reminiscent of a hedgehog's quills, his forefinger pointing right at me. He looked the barrister type and seemed to be singling me out as a culprit. Maybe at one point, but not this time… I hastily carried on. Right above Justine's bed was another new poster of some character in a very garish spacesuit of sorts. The shoulder pads were enormous and attached to one arm was a…cannon? Even the blanket I now retrieved off her bed had a graphic on it. A bit fuzzy to make out, but it looked to be a man in a bowler hat with a young boy dressed in a red cap and jumper standing at his side. 'Doctor Clayton,' I read the old-style text at the bottom. This one appeared the most normal of all but maybe I felt this only because I had half a mind to curl up in it myself. Though I had an inkling Justine wouldn't be too pleased to find her father passed out in her room wrapped in one of her blankets. Before my temptation to sleep grew any more unbearable, I placed the blanket on Justine, gently tucking her in as best I could in her current slumped sitting position, then turned to leave.

"Dad?" a muffled voice uttered at my back. "What are you doing?"

I faced Justine again, smiling in amusement. "Making sure my hard-worker is warm while she sleeps at her desk."

Hearing this, she looked down to confirm she really had fallen asleep at her desk and my amused smile altered to one of self-satisfaction.

"You were so eager to take a dig at me yesterday. Now who's the one sleeping in strange places?"

"I'm blaming that on you," she teased sleepily. "You're rubbing off on me…"

"Excuses, excuses…"

Justine opened her eyes just a crack more and her brow knit in question. "What is that?"

I looked to the folder in my hands where her sights had been drawn. "The mystery I've been researching."

"A…what is it?" she asked blearily.

I chuckled at her waking stupor. "This folder? Well, it's full of research I've been doing on quantum physics."

The effect my words had was immediate. "It is?" She asked upon shooting up in her chair, her eyes wide with enthusiasm, looking as if she was ready to tackle the day. "Can I look?"

"I was joking…"

She began to wilt, her eyelids growing heavy, and her head soon rested on the desk surface once more. "Oh, it's just that insect puzzle," she muttered through a yawn. Her brow furrowed in weary frustration. "I told you not to work on that… It'll ruin you…"

I was sure she meant it would ruin my computer as she had been so worried about the digital puzzle infecting the hard drive, but she was far too tired to realise her mistake.

"Need a cup of Earl Grey to help wake you up?" I offered.

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "I wouldn't drink that stuff even if there was a chocolate one…"

There was indeed a chocolate flavoured Earl Grey, but I had known while going into the offer she'd never drink it, nor any tea. Even when I'd first adopted her she'd not liked tea. I thought maybe she'd grow out of it, but it seemed I could never convince her to partake in the delicious water of life that rejuvenated me each morning. Talking of, I thought, stifling a yawn of my own, it was high time I brewed a cup before I truly did pass out in Justine's room…

"Your loss," I said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Yeah, not really…" And with that she turned over, wrapping herself tight in the blanket I'd placed on her. I smiled. I'd be sure to make a second cup and set it on her desk before I left for work.

After closing Justine's door behind me, I carried on with my morning routine. It took quite a bit longer than usual, though, due to my lethargy and, I hesitate to admit, because I'd almost killed myself twice. During my shower, I'd practically drowned nodding off under the faucet and while having a shave I'd nearly slit my own throat. After patching up my face with pieces of tissue here and there, I'd managed to slip on the usual, charcoal-black trousers, a white button-up, blue tie and olive waistcoat, with only one minor mistake of fastening the top waistcoat button in the middle buttonhole (and perhaps that minor mistake was due to my other minor mistake of forgetting to put on my glasses).

When I finally made it out to the kitchen with every button fastened correctly and my glasses in place, it was seven o'clock. It had taken a whole hour to finish my routine…and that wasn't counting my stop in Justine's room! I had only forty-five minutes before work and I honestly wondered whether or not I'd make it on time and in one piece as my morning trials weren't over quite yet. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I had tried to keep my mind engaged by looking over the two mysteries that had caused my severe fatigue in the first place, but the folder and its articles quickly transformed from engrossing thriller to makeshift pillow as I nodded off once more. I started awake moments later at the kettle's sharp click and, half-asleep, rose from my seat as if rising from the grave to pour two cups of tea. Once seated with a piece of toast and knife in hand (and a bit of hot water soaking my sleeve from my unsteady pouring), I occupied myself with some basic buttering, but fell asleep bang into the upturned blade. It was only after awakening to find the blunt point digging into my chest that I knew this wasn't good. I'd never been this tired before, not even when I'd worked longer hours and uncovered more mysteries when I was younger…

I looked to the folder again as I downed my tea, reconsidering my earlier plot to bring it along. I still felt wary about this decision, but if I had any chance of staying awake (and alive) today, I would have to take the risk. I finished my toast, wiped my mouth, popped into Justine's room to leave a note on where I'd be on a cup of Earl Grey, then took the folder in hand and trudged for the entryway. Besides, it was Mary's fault I had discovered at least one of these mysteries. She had no one to blame but herself for my cunning! At least, that's what I'd tell myself for now…

I travelled for my agency by foot, as usual, but after nearly running into a utility pole only metres from the house I no longer trusted myself to get there safely. So, embarrassingly, I hailed a taxi to help me along and was driven the .2 kilometres it took to reach the office. I was too tired to mind and paid the amused cabbie the three quid it had cost then took matters into my own hands once more as I walked for the building.

A few co-workers greeted me from their desks as I stepped in. I returned the greeting by wearily raising my third mug of Earl Grey then headed to my own desk. I dropped heavily into my chair and glanced to the time displayed on my computer monitor. 7.55. At least I had made it in time and, I set my notebook down and looked to my hands, twisting them front to back, I didn't seem to have become a ghost so I must have made it alive as well. Most important, however, I still had a few minutes before I would need to clock in. I took a cursory glance around the office and once determining I was safe from any prying eyes I slipped the folder from Mrs Tysan out from underneath my notebook. It was quite a bit slimmer than when I'd first obtained it as, to make sure it didn't appear suspicious to any wandering eye that might have seen it, specifically Mary's wandering eye, I'd taken out all the documents I'd already looked over from both last night and earlier this morning. This thinner stature would make it much easier to hide and retrieve. If this line of defence was broken it would be more vulnerable to curious, searching hands, but even so, it would most likely seem just a regular folder I'd brought along for organisational purposes. For a moment I was proud of this scheming I had come up with, then I considered how dodgy I was acting. I cleared my throat awkwardly. Those days should have been over by now…

With the five minutes I had I began to look over as many papers as I could, but those minutes quickly turned to seconds and I'd barely made it through a quarter of the documents left. Probably the most that had happened in this time was the Earl Grey finally taking effect, allowing me a more alert composure but I was none the wiser about the mystery and my curiosity was still hungry for more information.

After punching in, I turned slightly in my chair and glanced surreptitiously to Mary's desk. She wasn't there. Probably in the back organising today's paper. Good, I thought, suddenly not minding my sly actions. This was for the truth behind these mysteries after all… I had time tonight to work on any articles she'd give me today so why not sneak in a few more—

"Good morning, Mr Dove!"

My heart nearly burst out of my chest and I slammed the folder cover closed as I spun around in my chair. Mary was stood there beaming at me. Chipper as always when she nearly kills me!

"H-Hello, Mary," I stuttered, my mouth drawn in an innocent smile I already knew was less-than-convincing. I quickly tucked the folder back under my notebook.

Suddenly, Mary doubled-up in uncontrollable laughter and in my worry she'd seen what I was up to, I could only watch her in confusion. When she finally drew breath, she noticed my expression but her response was interrupted by bouts of even more laughter.

"D—haha—Did you just—pff-ff—Did you just learn how to shave today?! Hahahaa!"

I blinked and realised the moment my hands touched my jawline I had forgotten to remove the pieces of bloodied tissue from my earlier shaving incident. I couldn't help the now sheepish smile that tugged at my lips.

"Oh, come off it…" I said as I plucked the pieces off, shooting her a good-natured glare. "It's your fault anyway."

"Why?" she questioned, her words still touched with laughter. "Did my phone call wake you up before you could finish your beauty sleep?"

Upon hearing this, I suddenly forgot the folder and its mysteries. "Phone call?" I enquired with concern, slipping a hand into my pocket and retrieved my mobile. The screen displayed a missed call at five in the morning, something I saw everyday but had completely forgotten in my tired stupor."My apologies, Mary. It wasn't important, was it?"

"Oh, no need to worry, Clive!" she said as she smacked me on the back. I almost coughed up the tea I'd already downed. She really didn't know her own strength…well, and I should admit I am rather…skinny… "I only called to try and wake you up."

My concern quickly melted to apathy. "Good job I didn't notice then. I'm already tired enough…"

She cupped her chin, examining me. "You know, now that your face is free of tissue, I notice you look positively knackered today."

I nodded weakly in reply.

"Maybe I should lay off giving you so many articles to write. You're my best reporter and if you die, I don't know what I'll do!"

"It's too late now. I couldn't sleep with this mystery on my mind and I've already had my run in with death quite a few times this morning."

"Mystery?" Mary's curiosity was piqued now. "What mystery? A movie? A novel? A television show?"

"A real mystery involving these murders."

"Oh yeah! I read your article on those earlier." She elbowed me in the side teasingly as she twittered, "I put it on the front page… So that explains why your article on spring in London was about murder instead."

I looked to her with a sinking feeling I knew was already confirmed. "Don't tell me I accidentally submitted that as an article…"

"I'm guessing you were so caught up in the details of the killings, you made a rough draft then wrote it into a final draft on accident?"

"I suppose I did…"

Mary just laughed heartily and smacked me on the back again. "That's the enthusiasm we want to see, though. I guess it's a good job I called you at five in the morning to investigate those, right?"

"Probably not..." I said, running a hand through my hair. "My thoughts are so consumed with this mystery I can't seem to get anything else done." Then, seeing my opportunity, I flashed her a crafty smile. "But I guess if you think it's a good idea, that gives me more time to look into this unsolved case…"

"Now, now, Mr Dove, our whole paper can't be about murders and mysteries… We need to have some normal news as well. Just have a fresh article written up for me by tonight. And make sure it's about spring rain falling from London's skies, not blood."

"I'll try to not mix the two."

After we both shared a laugh, Mary became rather serious. "Hey, I hate to break up this moment, but I've got some bad news. No pun intended." She took a newspaper she'd been clutching from under her arm and slapped it down in front of me. I glanced at the header. The Daily. Richard's agency…

"Dare I ask what the bad news is…?"

"They've earned more subscribers. Again. I don't know how it keeps happening when most of their articles are rubbish!"

"Unfortunately, many people enjoy reading rubbish these days…" I muttered as I scooped up the paper. 'Strange Being Seen Flying Through The Sky…' I glimpsed a title while leafing through the first few pages indifferently. This was worse than usual!

"Anyway, we'd better get going, see if we can't redeem ourselves," Mary said. "I'll fetch today's assignments, be back in a sec!"

I analysed more of The Daily's articles while waiting. Each one was written above-par, but they weren't anything to praise. Some were at least a quarter true but many more were half-baked… Richard's article on the murder we'd investigated yesterday was on the front page. Their editor must have had the same idea. I read it over.

'Second Murder in Two Weeks: Is the Safest Bit of London Becoming the Most Dangerous?

'Trent Road, a rather quiet bit of the busy, bustling London City, has experienced not one, but now two murders. Victims' names are still not to be disclosed to the public at this time, but readers of our paper will know the first victim was a middle-aged man while the second was a young girl. Many suspect a family feud, others a serial killer. Yet what has taken place on this sleepy street is more terrifying than anyone could have guessed. Theories supported by various detective agencies state the man and girl were killed by an individual claiming to be Jack the Ripper. Is this new Jack a copycat of the old? A child of the original? Or something more?'

This wasn't the end of the article, but I couldn't possibly read on lest breakfast make a reappearance. What detective agency had supported this drivel? Certainly not Scotland Yard! This was just another ruse Richard used, ambiguous sources, to lure in his audience. Though it could hardly be called a ruse as that would suggest it was some well-thought out and clever plan. It wasn't.

Just then my mobile began to vibrate and I retrieved it from my pocket, happy to have someone distract me from the mind-numbing words I had regrettably read.

"Hello, Clive Dove speak—"

"Dove…" a drawling voice interrupted.

My nose wrinkled as if I'd caught a whiff of the rubbish tip The Daily's paper belonged in. "Good morning, Richard," I answered, attempting to obscure my frustration behind a dignified tone.

"Seen my article, have you…?"

Bugger… I may have had a talent for mostly keeping the emotion from my features, but my voice was a bit harder to tame.

"No, actually. I'm afraid I'm blind to—" I quickly cut myself off as an expletive nearly escaped me. A gentleman never acts unbecoming in the presence of a formidable rival, the Professor would have said. Since travelling with him long ago, I always tried to incorporate some of the morals he had inspired in my everyday life, but…these were difficult to remember when speaking to Richard. At least I'd caught myself this time.

"What was that, Dove…?"

I forced a tight smile. "Yes, I did. Very well-written, Richard. Although, if I could give a bit of constructive criticism, I'd suggest you add a bit more truth…"

"And why would I ever do that when the truth doesn't earn subscribers…?"

My brow twitched in irritation. I said through grit teeth, "Because the truth of the events we encounter is more important than subscribers. And it is our duty as journalists to provide the truth to arm our citizens with knowledge, not feed their curiosity with fake stories!" My irritation began to bubble up until it was spilling out as blurted words. "Furthermore, there are ethics to journalism that we are meant to follow. We are to be accurate, fair and thorough amongst many other things you seem to have forgotten. Or weren't you ever taught them in the first place? Perhaps you should consider returning to university and renewing your degree. You don't seem to have learnt the basics…"

I listened for a comeback, cackling, anything, but heard nothing. After a moment of unusual silence on Richard's part, I looked to my phone and saw he'd hung up. How dare he when he was the one who initially rang?! I had half a mind to ring him again and repeat my rant, but shook my head to clear it of this idea. I didn't have time to tussle with him today. I looked to the folder I had snuck in, instantly feeling the pull of my childlike curiosity, the desire to shirk responsibility and uncover the secrets so close yet so far away. If I could pay attention long enough, I could finish the research Mary was expecting of me then continue to look over this mystery. With this in mind, I set to work.

But it became apparent to me while typing in my password that these mysteries would not be so easy to put aside for even a moment. As the desktop loaded, reflecting in my glasses, I looked up to see an image was covering the screen. One of a very familiar-looking numbered insect.

The first emotion I felt was an all-consuming excitement as my eyes flit across the lines and lines of numbers. But there was also a very tiny, yet prominent feeling of confusion and the questions that formed in the back of my mind soon came to the front—why had this appeared on my work computer? Had I brought some virus from home to this computer now? Was it affecting computers everywhere or had it chose only me to pester? I surreptitiously rolled my chair over to the side of my cubicle and poked my head out to glance round the office. Other reporters were hard at work. Some conducting phone interviews, others typing furiously. In any case, this proved the hypothesis I had begun to conjure: If everyone else was doing their jobs as usual, then I must be the only one who had received this image… Curiouser and curiouser…

As I returned to my desk, my eyes were instantly glued to the image again, but my ears were alerted to the sound of footfalls. They were drawing closer. When I finally became aware of this fact, I tore my attention from the puzzle and looked to see Mary was headed for my desk with my latest assignments. Adrenaline shot through me and I quickly minimised the insect puzzle and double-clicked my word processor program. I was about to sigh in relief, but before my word processor could load, the insect popped up from the taskbar without my involvement.

"Blimey!" I blurted in surprise upon seeing this. In the back of my mind I questioned what had caused the image to appear again but my fear Mary would see me faffing about outweighed my curiosity at this point and so I minimised it again. The cheeky thing popped up once more, however. It seemed as if it had a mind of its own and it was testing me, tempting me to solve the riddle while my boss drew ever nearer. Since I couldn't seem to make the thing go away, I quickly snatched up my notebook and a pen and turned my back on my computer screen, my leg bouncing with nervous energy.

"Alright!" Mary sang as she appeared around the corner. "Here's some more articles to start researching." She set a paper down on the side of my desk with a few titles. I glanced to it while tapping my pen against my notebook. Community Project Set to Start in 2016, Schools Hosting Fundraiser With Biscuits and Tea, Book Signing at Black Books Bookstore.

"No murders this time, huh?" I said, giving her my most innocent smile yet.

What I received in return was a funny look. "Why do you seem so nervous all of a sudden?"

"Nervous?" My leg stopped bouncing. How had I already been found out? "Perhaps it's just the Earl Grey… I did have three cups this morning, after all."

She wasn't buying this excuse, though. She leaned over, trying to peer around me and I leaned in the same direction. She leaned the other way and so did I.

"What are you hiding?" she asked with a laugh as she (and I) tilted the other way again.

"Hiding? Nothing."

"Oh, come off it!" she started to lean the other way again, tricking me into following, then launched forward and pushed me away from my screen. I made some sort of strange noise in exclamation as I reached out with both hands to stop her, but it was already too late. She was staring at my computer screen, her joy melting to an unreadable expression.

"What is this?" she asked in a serious voice.

The jig was up now, I thought as my blood pumped cold with compunction through my veins. I supposed I might as well explain…

"My apologies, Mary. I meant to begin loading my programs but that appeared and I—"

"No wonder you couldn't start!" she suddenly exclaimed. "How adorable!"

I was surprised by this comment as I looked to my screen. The numbered insect was still there. What was adorable about that?

"Justine's grown up so much since I've last seen her," she continued. "You both look so lovely here. Anyway," she turned back to me, "wish I could look a bit longer, but I'd best let you get to work." With this, she turned and walked for her desk.

I blinked in wonder, watching after her as she left then stared at the screen once more. Still, the numbered insect remained. I minimised it and before it returned, caught a glance of my desktop. I had recently changed it to an image Justine had taken of the two of us with her new mobile, and based on what Mary had just said, she had seen this rather than the insect puzzle staring me in the face once more. It was almost as if she hadn't seen it at all… Was she winding me up, or…?

Deciding this was another mystery for another time, as I already had quite enough on my plate, I tried to set back to work. However, the numbered insect had other plans in mind, continuing to block off access to any other program. I was starting to get annoyed. Something about this action seemed to be mocking me, as if since I couldn't solve it last night before falling asleep it would now haunt me until I could. At this point I was becoming so vexed I was ready to exit out of it entirely, but of course that was against my curious nature. Perhaps I could print it for later, I thought as I right-clicked the image. The drop-down of options appeared and there was indeed an option to print.

"There, happy?" I muttered to the image as I retrieved the puzzle from the printer. As if to answer me the image disappeared of its own accord. I tilted my head upon seeing this. It really did seem to have a mind of its own... I felt compelled to question this as well, but again, this was another mystery for another time.

I stashed the puzzle away in my notebook then cautiously began typing on my word processor. When the image didn't appear after a few moments of typing, I grew certain it had finished with its mischief and, though I was occasionally distracted by the paper copy and all the new secrets open to me, I was able to finish quite a bit of research before break at eleven. During this time, I ducked out, ordered a sandwich and another two cups of Earl Grey, just to be safe, then returned as quickly as possible so I could continue researching while I ate. I had an hour. I looked over the sheet I had just printed and the numbers of the insect I had written down last night. They seemed the same for the most part… I knew I wouldn't have enough time to understand this mystery within the allotted hour, so I reluctantly put it away for later tonight and began searching through the folder for more information on the Guardian Scroll. At first I found nothing but more artefacts with no relation to the Scroll. Just more information on supposed pottery from thousands of years ago, bones, scraps of armour, and more pottery. I was quickly reaching the end of the pages. Surely there had to be more on that Scroll!

That's when I happened upon it. As I lifted the last page, all hope draining away to what I was sure was another dead end, I revealed a dusty, leather-bound journal lying in wait at the very back. I hesitated but a second before snatching the old thing up, scrutinising it like a detective to blood spatter. I had searched for about forty-five minutes so I didn't have much time to look it over, but I couldn't help myself. I simply had to peek…

Upon opening the cover, the thing groaned, its binding snapping as if it'd not been opened for quite some time. The pages, too, were aged—yellowed, crinkled and creased with time. At the top of the first page I read the date of a year. 1967. Around then, eh…? I scanned the page.

14 Dec 1967

'This is my first real adventure as an archaeologist. I still have quite a lot of progress to make before I can research the very theories that led me to pursue this career, but I have a very strong sense I will discover more along the way. That being, angel, whatever it was, I hadn't imagined it. Surely the Scroll it had left behind was meant to be discovered and researched. Whether it was meant for me personally, I'm still unsure, but even so, I will do my best to educate myself on what I'd seen and learn what it was escaping from.'

From this entry alone, I could logically assume this was Mr Tysan's journal and that he had used it on his archaeological digs. Part of me felt guilty for having it. It was far too old and dejected to be of use to the man, but perhaps he didn't want me snooping in it? But another part of me felt like doing anything in my power to keep it. At least for now. Already on page one it had talked of some sort of being. Whether that was meant to be taken literally, metaphorically or otherwise, I was already hooked. What mysteries the old book held… I could only imagine.

The alarm on my mobile began to trill, breaking through my thoughts, announcing lunch was over. Time to get back to work. I reluctantly closed the journal's cover. I'd research more about it tonight, I promised, then recalled I also had the newest addition to that numbered insect puzzle to think about as well as rewriting an article as well as setting interviews for future articles… I very well might be spending another night at my desk…

Finally, five o'clock arrived. The day was over and I couldn't be happier. Not only was I ready for an entire kettle of Earl Grey, but I was eager to return home and continue searching through this journal. I was so eager, in fact, that my guilt at prying in Mr Tysan's personal business had completely dissipated. And let's not forget the new addition to that insect puzzle, I reminded myself. My eyes shimmered as I took a peek at the folder. There were all sorts of secrets lying in wait for me! I felt not unlike a CSI investigating dusted prints.

I practically ran home, speeding so fast down the pavement I believe I'd passed the taxi I'd taken earlier that morning. Once inside, I made myself a large cup of Earl Grey and used this to justify the time spent looking over the insect puzzles rather than writing articles. Again, the pattern of numbers I had seen before began to appear before my eyes. 1s, 2s, 3s, 5s, 8s… I had wondered before why they skipped as they did. Why 3 to 5 and not 4? And where were 6 and 7 between 5 and 8? Perhaps this newest copy would aid me in finding a solution. I turned my attention to the copy, comparing it to the one I'd written down. The only difference between the two was the one I'd printed contained forward slashes and full stops. Like sentences…

Just when I'd begun to work out a potential solution I'd not considered before, my mobile began to vibrate, breaking my concentration. I ruffled my hair with impatience. If this was Richard again, I swore I would—

"Hey, Dad," Justine greeted to my surprise.

My mood instantly lightened. "Oh, hello, Justine." I took a look around and realised I'd not seen her in the house. She certainly wasn't at the table where she normally sat. "Staying after school late today?" I asked. I felt a bit grimy as I hadn't even noticed she wasn't home until this call, but now that I was aware, I was asking out of concern.

"Kind of. I'm thinking of hanging out for a bit."

"Alright," I said, turning in my chair as I thought of a plan to figure out who she was going out with. "When do you plan on returning home?"

"Around supper. Six or so. You can eat without me. We'll probably head to a restaurant or something."

I picked up my mug and took a sip. "And where will you be before that?"

"Probably at Fayne's house."

I almost spit out my tea for the second time that day.

"F-Fayne? Why?"

"Uh, because we've not hung out in a while?"

"You have done! Yesterday!"

"Okay, but, Dad, you were there…"

Ouch. I think that's the fifth time I've nearly been killed today… I suppose I couldn't be upset about this. She was a teenager after all, and I do recall being embarrassed by some of the things my adoptive mother did when I was near Justine's age. Besides, I had bigger problems to worry about than my daughter not appreciating me as much as I'd wished. She was headed over to…his house.

"W-Will anyone be home?"

"His dad's out, I think researching, and his mum's running some errands."

This single sentence traced goose pimples up my arms. So they'd be alone… That wasn't all bad, considering I was suspicious of Mrs and Mr Tysan at the moment, but, even so, think of all the dangerous things Justine and Fayne could get into by themselves! Instantly, my mind filed through plot after plot to ensuring my daughter's safety. I could go spy on her, but… I glanced to the journal and the Scroll and all my articles I still had yet to do. I'd miss out on valuable time…

Or, I thought as those old cunning cogs began turning in my head. They seemed to have become more active of late… I could spend time researching and spying. My job was important, yes, but this was Justine, my little girl! I couldn't let things get out of hand…

"Alright," I said, unable to keep the determined smile from my lips. It was settled then. "You have fun."

"See ya, Dad."

"Goodbye, Just."

I stood from my chair, picking up my notes on the numbered insect and Mr Tysan's journal then left for the entryway I'd just entered. I felt I was finally progressing in my mysteries. Though I'd be keeping an eye on my daughter, I would discover more about that Scroll, those scraps from the killings and that insect puzzle…

And so help me, if a certain teenage womaniser dare broke my concentration by hurting my daughter, I'd be cracking more than just a puzzle tonight…