Happy Independence Day, American peoples!

Hayley, I'm sorry! I – I was so BORED!

Thanks to Steph and Alyson.

- 8 -

'We know how you died,' Paul finished for me. 'At least, Suze does.'

The three of them sat up VERY straight with THAT little revelation.

'Oh,' Nathan raised an eyebrow delicately, attempting to look uninterested. 'You do, do you?'

I nodded. 'Yes. Mr Head murdered you, didn't he?'

- 8 -

The three of them sucked in a breath that was undeniably unnecessary.

'Get out,' Robin growled violently.

I had them. I SO had them.

I smiled a little. 'Oh. So I am right?'

The black, charred, smoky room got darker, as all the burnt furniture started shaking. Paul moved closer to me, looking around warily.

Nathan and Charlie looked at each other angrily, then at me. And, I guess, that was how I really knew I had hit the nail on the head.

'How?' I asked the three of them.

'You think we know?' Robin shot at me acidly. 'We just know it was him –'

'Because you were blackmailing him,' I said bluntly.

In all truth, that's exactly what they were doing. They had something to scorch Mr. Head's reputation…but they ended up being the ones to get burned. Talk about karma.

'Suze,' Paul warned under his breath in my ear, 'Easy.'

'You know how deeply he hated us?' Nathan demanded, standing next to Robin furiously. 'He was not going to let us graduate. We had to take matters into our own hands.'

'So you went and hunted around for dirt, and you found out he was bonking your English teacher?' I raised my eyebrows.

Charlie jabbed his finger at me. 'How do YOU know this?'

'Yeah,' Robin crossed his arms, his dark eyes narrowed at me. 'That's what I'd like to know.'

Oh, come ON. Was I THAT helpless looking? Sure it took a while, but with a little detective work (and, of course, a little help from Jesse) I figured it out. I could just as easily put two and two together just as plain as they saw their English teacher with the Head.

'Letters,' Paul said simply. 'One to Mrs. Head, one to Mr Head.' I could just HEAR it in his voice. He was trying, very hard, to keep his cool.

Which was hard, seeing at the three boys before him had apparently raped and murdered his girlfriend. Or, um, ex-girlfriend. I wasn't quite sure how Paul had felt about Dani or what he'd been thinking about her at the time of her death. I knew they were on the rocks, but I didn't know if they were officially off.

Then again, at the time of her death, I doubted that he was really thinking with his brain, so much as another notorious part of his anatomy.

Whatever. It doesn't matter now. All that really did matter was solving this.

The three of them exchanged stiff glances.

'You mean – her one never got sent?' Nathan asked, horrified. He turned to Robin angrily. 'We planned it all out, Robbie! You told me she got it!'

'I thought she HAD!' Robin shoved him back. 'Don't blame ME – '

'Hey, HEY,' I snapped. 'Shut up. So what happened then, the night you died?'

Charlie's deep brown face stared at me menacingly. 'We were up here. And then the fire started, and the door slammed, and we started shouting, and the squirt was screaming down the stairs, and the fire continued to grow – '

'Charlie, CAN IT!' Robin whipped around to him, his eyes flashing. Charles was slammed against the wall with the power of his rage. 'Don't tell them ANYTHING. They want us out of here, remember?'

'I wonder why,' I glared. 'Seeing as the only way you occupy your time is attacking the living, and killing off members of our agency.'

Robin took a hasty step toward me, but Paul stepped in front of me instinctively. 'Don't,' he threatened.

Robbie stopped, glaring elsewhere.

Nathan eyed me in ire, and Charlie stood up, brushing off his unruly school uniform angrily, shooting daggers at Robin, whose gaze was locked on Paul hatefully.

I ducked beneath Paul's arm, much to his annoyance. 'No, seriously,' I continued like we were having a conversation about which sanitary napkins were most effective, 'You're not supposed to be here. Everyone in this room knows that. So, I'm wondering. What WILL it take for you to move on? What, an apology from Mr Head?'

'We BELONG here,' Robbie spat at me, 'We DIED here, and we OWN this school, and you can't do a DAMNED thing to – '

He broke off suddenly.

'An apology?' he asked, his eyes alight.

I nodded quickly. YES. SCORE. LE SUZE WAS FINALLY GETTING THROUGH.

He twisted around to look at the other two guys.

'A verbal apology?' Nathan asked.

I shrugged. 'Sure. It . . . it can be arranged.'

All I had to do was get Mr. Head to agree to it. That wouldn't be so hard.

. . . Would it?

Nathan's lips twisted into a wide grin. He slid his hand out to Charles and Robin, and they both gave him a high five.

'Fine,' Robin said, stepping ahead of the both of them, his expression still looking dark even with the added levity of the moment. 'We'll hear his apology.'

'And then you'll leave?' I asked hopefully. 'You'll be able to move on?'

Robin didn't answer me. Instead he wore a copy of the grin on Nathan's face. Only, when he wore the look, he looked twenty times more sinister.

'I'll bring him right over,' I said.

YES! I was so excited. It felt so simple. After all the destruction they caused, the one thing that would send them off was an apology from their former Headmaster. Who knew?

Paul, obviously, was having some sort of misgiving, because he grabbed my upper arm with his hand and pulled me back to him.

'What are you doing?' he hissed into my ear.

'Hello? Where have you been the past minute?' I asked sassily. 'All we have to do is get Mr. Head to apologize, and they're gone.'

I tried to shrug Paul's arm off casually, but instead he gripped it tighter.

'What makes you think it'll be that easy?' he asked, making sure his voice was really low so the Misforts couldn't overhear.

Honestly, I couldn't answer that question the way I wanted to because he kind of had me there.

'We have to be careful, Suze,' Paul continued when he saw that I had nothing to add.

'Careful?' I laughed. 'Aren't we usually?'

I mean, we used a condom and everything.

Paul didn't grace me with a response. Instead, he just let out a sigh and let go of my arm.

Finally, I felt like I was catching a well-deserved break. After all of this complication and death, things were starting to look up. For the agency AND for me.

Too bad it wasn't as easy as I expected.

- 8 -

CeeCee came with me. I mean, Paul was GOING to, but there was a call from the hospital, saying that Father Dom wanted to talk to one of us. While it was quite an inappropriate time for a chit chat, I suggested that Paul go and tell Father Dom everything that was happening. Of course, he was NOT happy with that arrangement, and he wanted me to go instead so he could go and drag Dick's sorry ass over to the school, but I said a very firm no. He told me that Cee and Adam could go and talk to him, but once again, I patiently explained that only he and I knew what was going on, and at least ONE of us would have to be there to recount the information correctly to our priestly buddy. Angry with me, he took Adam and they both left for the hospital.

Men. HONESTLY . . .

So CeeCee and I piled in her car and hit the road. It had been a long time since Cee and I had had some quality "girl time" to ourselves. You know, with her being permanently attached at the hip with Adam and all.

We were both intent on making the most of it, so before we headed out to the Dick Headquarters, we stopped at a nearby 7-11 for two jumbo-sized Slurpees. We turned on the radio and cranked up the oldies for our listening pleasure, singing along as loudly as possible.

'You know what sucks?' I asked CeeCee, as we were jamming out to some Beach Boys.

'What? I can't hear you.'

'I said, "You know what sucks?"' I repeated, turning down the volume on the radio a bit.

'That we're girls and we can't even hit the high notes that Brian Wilson can?' CeeCee asked.

'No,' I giggled, taking a sip of my Slurpee. 'What sucks is that you never got to have a bachelorette party. You know, before you tied the knot with Adam.'

'A bachelorette party?' CeeCee asked, in disbelief. 'Like, with a male stripper and crazy drinking games?'

'I don't know,' I replied. 'I hadn't really been to a real bachelorette party before. Except for my mom's before she married Andy, but all we did was eat a fancy dinner. My mom got presents, too. But nothing juicy like frilly lingerie. More like monogrammed napkins and stuff.'

'Like any of us need a male stripper,' CeeCee almost snorted her Slurpee out through her nose.

'What's that supposed to mean?' I asked, a little defensively.

'Well, I have Adam and, well, you have Paul – '

'I do N - ' I looked kind of psycho. 'W-what do you mean?'

CeeCee raised her eyebrows at me, running through a red light. Meh. There was no one else on the road for ages. 'Last night. I mean, I heard you shouting at Jesse. You were kind of loud, Simon. And you totally said you loved Paul, don't deny it. Our car wasn't THAT far away from you. So yeah, back to the point, you have Paul - who is a lot better than any male stripper you could ever hire, right?'

I blushed a little.

'So you two are back on track?' CeeCee asked. 'Because I'm almost sure that, in my sleepiness, I saw the two of you go back into the very same car together.'

'Um,' I said. Okay, this was weird. I mean, back on track? Had we even BEEN on track before?

. . . I didn't really think so. Only now were things STARTING to get on track . . .

'I guess,' I mumbled. I checked my watch. It was almost ten o'clock.

CeeCee looked sideways at me, her eyes half-hidden behind her tinted purple Ray Bans. Her hair was looking radiant in the daylight. 'What happened to you, by the way? I mean, I know that shifters can be kind of stronger than usual, but you've been kind of knocked around. Is Paul REALLY that rough in bed, or are you just cl - '

'That wasn't Paul,' I said a little too quickly.

. . . DOH.

CeeCee blinked repeatedly. 'The Misfortunates?' she asked.

'Um,' I said again. 'No.'

CeeCee was alarmed. 'Don't tell me JESSE did that,' she inspected my face in horror. 'I mean, I know you apparently broke up with him and all - '

'NO,' I exploded, 'GOD no.'

'How did it happen, Simon?' CeeCee's tone became demanding and gruff. 'Just tell me.'

'No.'

'Simon . . . '

'Just - it's all sorted out now, he's getting charged and everything for it - '

CeeCee slammed on the brake.

'Are you talking about that COLE guy?' she asked, her voice shrill and aghast.

I muttered something under my breath.

'Yes.'

Plopped in the smack-bang middle of the road, CeeCee turned to me furiously, and started touching my face. I winced. 'You didn't tell me, WHY?'

'You just got married!' I said in my defence. 'Why the hell would I say something like THIS to you when you just became Mrs Adam McTavish?'

'Because I'd want to know,' CeeCee said, kind of passionately. 'I care about you, Suze. You - you shouldn't keep stuff like that from me . . . '

Feeling bad, I looked down. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Just . . . you were so happy, and I didn't want to spoil anything . . . '

CeeCee looked perturbed. 'God,' she said. She shook her head at me. Then she leaned over and hugged me tightly. I hugged back, starting to feel small again. And emotional.

'When?' she asked. 'I mean . . . how did it happen?'

'Uh,' I said, 'He came when you and Adam went to take Jack back - and get hitched - and when Paul went to pick up autopsy reports on Dani - 'WHICH I STILL HAVE NOT SEEN OR HEARD ABOUT - 'and . . . yeah. He started . . . getting physical. But - ' I said quickly, 'I TOTALLY managed to blast him away, twice. So kudos to me. Paul came back and rang the police on him. Thank God . . . he was really close to - '

I stopped talking when I saw her face. 'I'm fine,' I assured her.

She still looked kind of hurt. 'Never EVER not tell me something like that again, okay Simon?'

'You used double negatives,' I pointed out to Miss Journalist herself. 'Shame on you.'

'Don't try to change the subject,' CeeCee scolded me.

'Fine,' I sighed, staring at my Slurpee. 'I promise.'

CeeCee looked satisfied as she flashed me a smile. Her teeth were white and pearly, the only thing whiter than her skin. She really did have a gorgeous smile. I mean, she always did, but it used to be hidden behind all that metal. And now that it was gone, she was even more gorgeous.

'With that said, you'll have to tell me: how's Slater in the sack?'

'CeeCee!'

'What?' she asked innocently. 'You promised you would tell me everything. So come on, spill. I want details.'

'Just drive.'

We were starting to get closer to the Headquarters. CeeCee twisted her head at me expectantly. 'Well?' she asked.

I shrugged. 'That's none of your business, Mrs McTavish.'

'Is so. Come on, the whole senior class wanted to know what Paul Slater was like in bed. We were all horny, hormonal sixteen/seventeen year olds after all. And while I remain immune to this apparent Slater charm, you do not, and I want to know if it is because of any superb sexual skills that have won you over.'

'I really want to kill you and make it look accidental,' I assured her.

'Oh, I know,' she smiled dizzily. 'Well?'

Now that I wasn't making something up, I felt really awkward. I mean . . . how was I supposed to know how good Paul was? I couldn't exactly compare him to anyone else, right? He made me FEEL amazing, but - wait, isn't that enough?

'Good,' I said. ' . . . Really good.'

'I knew it,' she smiled victoriously. 'So no one can blame me for any adulteress activity on my part where Paul Slater is concerned, okay?'

'You wouldn't cheat on Adam if your life was threatened,' I goaded her.

She smiled. ' . . . True,' she reasoned. 'He is my HUSBAND after all.' Then she started giggling. 'God, I feel so OLD saying that. Husband. Husband and wife. Married. MRS McTavish. I'm not a Ms. anymore, Suze,' she sighed. 'Gah. God, I can't say how happy I am though.'

'You don't need to,' I assured her. 'We can all tell.'

She beamed at me. 'Really?'

'Yep,' I said. 'It's obvious to everyone that you're an old married hag.'

She scowled at me.

'Next thing you know, you'll trade in this car for a minivan to haul all ten kids to their soccer games,' I teased.

'Ten? Oh, God. That'd be eleven if you counted Adam.'

'That's not the worst of it,' I continued on prophetically. 'You'll probably end up wearing oversized tee-shirts and ugly patterned leggings.'

CeeCee laughed uncomfortably at the thought. Oh, she laughs NOW. She won't be laughing when she's debating between Luv's or Huggies.

When I was a bouncing baby brat, I had no-brand diapers, and I turned out okay.

. . . Yeah, Suze. A grown woman who sees the dead.

Hey, maybe THAT'S what went wrong with me. Mum's choice in diapers, I mean. If I had have had diapers that DIDN'T restrict on my toddler hiney, MAYBE I wouldn't have been able to talk to ghosts.

It's all mum's fault.

After long last, CeeCee pulled up at the extravagant Headquarters. She parked the car, and we both sat there for a moment.

'So,' I said. 'You ready?'

'Sure am,' she grinned.

I raised my eyebrows. 'It's really not something to get excited about, CeeCee. We're going in there, making him spill the beans, and we're coming out. Have you got it in your purse though?'

'What?' she asked.

'That . . . thing,' I blinked at her meaningfully.

'OH,' she said in realisation. 'Yeah, that. It's all set.'

'Right,' I muttered. We both exited the car, and climbed up to the front door of Mr Head's humble home.

Snort.

Humble my armpit.

I knocked on the door, loudly and confidently. It had a doorbell, but I hate doorbells. A few seconds went by, until I heard a flurry of footsteps, and a smiling Abigail Head opened the door.

'Oh,' she said cheerfully, 'You again! Come in, come in . . . '

Crap. SHE was home. Okay . . . this would be harder than I thought.

'Um,' I said, 'Thank you.'

She looked more than happy to have company. 'Can I get you anything?'

'Er,' I said, 'Is Mr Head home?'

She blinked a little, looking put out. 'No, dear,' she tutted apologetically. 'He won't be a moment - he's coming home early from work today. Poor Richard hates his work,' she said in an undertone. 'Sometimes I wish he were still working at that school. He always used to come home smiling, in the holidays.'

That would be because he was getting some from the English teacher.

'Hmm,' I said. 'So . . . he liked his job?'

'Oh yes,' she gushed. 'Well . . . there were a few boys that he wasn't completely fond of. Sometimes he'd come home and just rant,' she said expressively. She guided us into the lounge room. 'I'll get you tea?'

'Uh - ' I said, but CeeCee firmly said, 'Yes, that would be great.'

Mrs Head looked pained. 'Excuse me, dear, I've completely forgotten your name. I know you're Suze,' she nodded at me, 'But . . . gosh, remind me?'

'CeeCee,' Cee smiled. 'CeeCee McTavish.'

We both grinned at each other.

'Aaah,' Mrs Head said. 'CeeCee. But . . . I could have sworn your last name was d - '

'I got married yesterday,' CeeCee said very proudly.

Abigail looked thrilled. 'Oh goodness, congratulations! That's lovely! Oh, you make sure your fellow treats you right,' she said with cheerful severity. 'Marriage isn't . . . it isn't always wonderful.'

Hmm. Especially when your husband is boning his employee.

Mrs Head bustled off to make tea, while CeeCee yanked me down next to her on the couch. 'Okay,' she said, 'What's going on? You keep looking all sympathetic to her, you know something I don't, right?'

'Uh huh,' I said under my breath in her ear. 'Mr Head was fooling around when he was the principal.' I started to explain about the letters briefly. 'That's why I DON'T want her here when we start cross-examining Dicky H. So I don't know, maybe you can . . . what, distract her or something while I drop Le Bomb?'

'No,' she scolded, 'I'm SO staying. We'll figure something - '

'How many sugars, Suze?' she called.

'Two,' I yelled.

'None for me, Abigail,' CeeCee shouted after me. 'Suze,' she muttered, 'So what you're saying is . . . Mr Head killed the Misfortunates?'

I nodded gravely, but pulled away when Mrs Head came back in, smiling. She handed me my mug. Her hair looked all wispy and dainty. She really was a very pretty woman, even if she was like, seventy or something. And I saw the photo of her in Mr Head's bedroom. She was a hot babe when she was younger. You know, in that Snow White kinda way. Her hair used to be blond or something. I couldn't tell - it was a black and white photo - but it was definitely very light.

After giving CeeCee her mug, she sat in her recliner, relishing the fact that she was playing the perfect hostess. She was all smiles. I guess that Mr Head didn't let her have friends over much.

My loathing of him intensified even more. Here was this perfectly SWEET lady, and he had to go screwing around elsewhere.

And you could tell that Abigail was not a happy person. Her smiles were affectionate, and even though they definitely reached her eyes, when she wasn't smiling, she looked sad. And lonely.

'So,' I blew on the tea, and sipped. It was wonderful. She made it perfectly. She probably HAD to, living with Richard Head and all. 'Er . . . how'd you meet Mr Head then?'

Looking a little lost, she shrugged. 'Oh,' she smiled half-heartedly, 'We . . . we were very young things. He was rather dashing in my day. Charming fellow,' she said, looking as if she were trying to convince herself that. 'We met down in Gilroy, and he asked me to marry him when I was twenty.'

She looked up at the roof. 'I certainly was a silly thing,' she said quietly.

I breathed in, and then out. CeeCee looked at me over her mug.

'He started working at Fortunaschwein,' she went on, clasping her hands together. I bet she was wishing she'd made herself tea as well. She looked like she wanted to have something to do with her hands. 'As a History teacher. Then he became the principal, and . . . and he wasn't home very much,' she said a little sadly. 'Occasionally he'd invite me to stay at the school some nights, but . . . but not often.'

I got the feeling that Mrs Head hadn't said this to anyone before. In fact, she looked far away. Like she NEEDED to say it.

Even though I hadn't expected a life story, I stayed silent.

'Sometimes I just wished he'd come home,' Abigail sighed. 'And stay. Selfish of me, I know . . . but he worked all the time, and - and we hardly ever saw each other. For years,' she added softly.

. . . God.

'I missed him,' she blinked quickly. 'And . . . now that he does come home more, sometimes I wish that he was still working at the school, because he's always so cranky and - '

Her eyes lost the glazed look. 'My goodness,' she said in horror, 'What am I saying?' She stood up rapidly, brushing down her skirt. 'I'm sorry, Suze, CeeCee, I - you don't want to hear that, especially you, CeeCee, just getting married and all - '

'We don't mind,' I said quickly. 'I mean . . . it doesn't sound like you have many people to talk to.'

She turned back to us, and I saw that her eyes were looking wet. 'No,' she said firmly, 'I'm . . . I'm being silly. Would you like biscuits with your tea?'

'No,' CeeCee said, 'No thank you. You can keep talking. Suze and I can listen. It's okay.'

Looking a little scared of herself, she just stood next to the recliner, helplessly. 'I - ' she began, 'I don't think that Richard really lo - '

However, if she'd been about to say anything private, she cut herself off immediately when the door opened loudly and harsh footsteps came in.

'Who's here, Abigail?' Mr Head demanded gruffly.

Terrified, Mrs Head wafted over to the entrance area, 'Oh, you're home, Richard, hello - '

'There's a car outside,' Mr Head growled. 'It had better not be those blasted - '

CeeCee and I went and stood out in the entrance as well. 'Hey, Mr Head,' I said coldly.

Seeing him there, standing tall over his chubby, short wife, suddenly made me MAD. Right from his balding grey-white hair, down to his polished black shoes, make me boil with hate and disgust.

This guy was a philanderer. He was a murderer. He was a DICK HEAD.

Dick Head by name, Dick Head by nature.

He snorted in anger. 'What have I told you about harassing my wife?' he snapped rudely.

I rolled my eyes. Because I suddenly KNEW that I was not only better than him, but I had the dirt on him like he wouldn't believe. He was my silly putty.

'We haven't been harassing your wife,' I said cynically. 'We had a cup of tea, didn't we Abigail?' She nodded, looking too eager to cover up that she'd been ragging on him behind his back. It was as if she was scared that he'd overheard, somehow . . .

'What do you want?' Mr Head glared at me. 'After what you did to my graveyard, I think I've had it up to here with you lot - '

'FIRSTLY,' I interrupted furiously, 'A little sympathy would be nice, considering one of the members of our agency died and everything.'

Abigail sucked in a sharp breath of shock. 'Oh my gosh,' she said faintly, her eyes widened. 'Oh my - '

'The press said it was suicide,' Mr Head sniffed. 'I have no control over and mental issues that any of my employees may or may not have.'

A white hot rage flickered within me, and before I could stop myself, I had punched him.

'ARGH!' he roared, falling back, and Mrs Head looked scared.

'Suze!' CeeCee said in both alarm and approval.

'She's right to do so,' Abigail said shakily, as if not daring to believe that she was talking. 'You - you shouldn't SAY such things, Richard - '

'THE LOT OF YOU ARE FIRED,' Mr Head screamed at me, getting up and looking like he very much so wanted to hit me right back. 'Get OUT of my house!'

'NOT,' CeeCee said angrily, totally rooting for the whole punch thing, 'until we've had a chat, Mr Head.'

'Yeah, Richard,' I said snidely.

Mr Head took a bold step up to me, towering over me. The jerk WAS tall, after all. He was holding his jaw in pain and frenzied anger. 'I just told you to get OUT - '

'Mrs La Rosa wants her panties back,' I said.

That made him pale.

Bewildered, Mrs Head asked, ' . . . What?'

I looked around at her. Thank God she had no clue what I had just said.

Mr Head, however, heard my meaning loud and clear.

'Abigail,' he said, his voice COMPLETELY different, sounding almost alien, 'Go.'

'What's going on - ?'

'GO,' Mr Head spat at her.

In a gentler voice, I said to her, 'Your probably should go. We need to have a nice little talk with your hubby.'

Looking a little disorientated, Mrs Head stared at all of us. Mr Head shoved his car keys at her, and shoved her in the direction of the door. 'Leave, Abigail.'

'Hey, would you mind not PUSHING her?' I snapped. 'And you say WE harass your wife.'

He didn't say a word to me. Mrs Head slowly left the house, upset and confused. When Richard Head finally took his hand away from his jaw, I was pleased to see that it was red.

'So,' I said conversationally to Mr Head. 'Nice day, huh?'

'What do you know about Karen?' Mr Head hissed at me. 'If she's told you anything, it's lies.'

I dug the letters out of my pocket. CeeCee also stuck her finger in her purse discretely, and I heard a small click.

I saw his eyes widen unintentionally, as he tried to look undisturbed.

'Dear Mrs. Abigail Head. We regret to inform you that your husband is - '

'WHERE did you get that!' Mr Head exploded. 'They . . . no . . . '

I snickered a little. 'What? Remind you of anything, do that?'

Fiercely, he met my gaze again. His face was starting to go kind of purple. Again, he took what he thought was an intimidating step up to me. 'Get out of my house or I'll call the police,' he threatened.

I turned around and looked at the phone on the wall. 'Oh, that?' I asked. I walked over to it, and kicked it off the wall. CeeCee started giggling, TOTALLY breaking the mood.

Pfft. Can't take her anywhere, honestly . . .

'Oops,' I said. 'Phone broke.'

He blanched.

'Sit down, Mr Head,' I advised him coolly.

He shuffled down the entrance hallway, and into a room which looked like the bar room. It was STACKED with wine bottles. Hundreds. Everything was flawlessly and classily presented, screaming out RICH BITCH! even more so than Paul's house.

He sat on one of the bar chairs, looking very white.

'I have nothing to say about those letters,' Mr Head said quickly. 'I - their contents is merely four foolish boys and their trickery. I - I confiscated them because they were - '

'Four?' I asked. 'There's only three on here.'

He blinked guiltily. 'Oh, really . . . ? I see . . . '

I smirked at CeeCee. 'Lights, Cee?'

She giggled again, and flipped the switch. The bar room went dark. Mr Head jumped a little.

'So, Mr Head,' I said slowly, slyly, planning to enjoy myself, 'Richard . . . can I call you Richard? Or . . . Dick?' I added with a cunning grin.

'MR Head will do,' he snapped at me. 'Respect your elders, young lady.'

'Oh, I only respect my betters,' I retorted. 'And seeing as I haven't killed anyone yet, I believe that makes me better than you.'

He choked on his saliva.

'I have NO idea what you're talking about, girl,' he glared furiously. I looked at his hands. They were shaking. God, I'm good . . . teehee. I looked back up at his face. He kept looking at the door. CeeCee noticed this, and stepped beside me, blocking the way. Mr Head THEN kept glancing at the wine bottle in front of him, which was half full. Heh. I guess now was a nice little time to start drinking. Perhaps we could get him to talk more easily if he was tipsy on his stupid million dollar vodka . . . ?

Or not.

'I was just wondering,' I went on lazily, 'Why you never told us where you worked, Dick.'

'You never asked,' he replied stiffly. 'I believe I told you to call me Mr Head.'

CeeCee giggled again. 'Dick suits you better,' she said.

Not that you have one, though.

'So,' I said, 'Your job. You were the headmaster at an all boy's school, and isn't it SUCH a coincidence, it's the one we've been WORKING at for the past week. Wow, how the hell did THAT happen?' I asked animatedly at him.

'It wasn't relevant information,' he glowered. 'It still isn't. You were hired because I thought that you would get the ghosts out of my school, and that is all.'

'You believe in ghosts, do you, Dick?' I raised my eyebrows. 'Seen one? Known someone who sees them?'

CeeCee looked at me curiously, as if to say, where-are-you-going-with-this?

It was a hunch. Shut up.

No,' Mr Head said a little too loudly.

'You weren't a very good principal, were you,' I observed. 'Not many of the guys liked you, did they?'

'I was very well respected, I'll have you know,' he spat at me. 'So mind what you say, girl, or - '

'Or you'll call the police on your broken phone,' I nodded. 'I know, I know.'

'Some people wouldn't mind their own business,' he explained angrily, 'That's all any argument between myself and a student was ever about.'

'That would suck, wouldn't it,' I agreed. 'You know, when people just . . . won't stop prying.'

'Exactly,' his moustache twitched in ire, 'So get out.'

CeeCee crossed her arms, smiling serenely.

'Aaah, but we have license to pry,' I shook my head. 'It's our job, after all. I mean, we've very thorough in our work. We don't just kick a ghost out. That's too easy. We figure out WHY they're still haunting the living, and we make them move on the natural way. Even AFTER they gang-rape someone in our agency,' I said in a very, very cold voice.

Mr Head must have realized that I was getting mad.

'So yeah,' I went on, coolly, 'After chatting with your school's ghosts, we've realised that you were getting up to some business that wasn't very virtuous, Dicky.'

'I already knew that,' Mr Head overrode me, looking away from me. 'Anyhow, I . . . it would be in your best interest for you to keep this . . . to yourselves - '

And I'm not even kidding. He tried to shell out a fifty to CeeCee.

We both cracked up at him. This SO felt like a gangster movie. This was totally awesome. Grinning at each other, me and CeeCee sniggered.

'We don't take bribes,' she said. 'Wow, that's really, really desperate of you.'

He looked insulted and sheepish, stuffing the money back into his wallet grumpily.

I stated it out loud. 'You were cheating on your wife, weren't you, Mr Head? With a woman named Mrs Karen La Rosa. She was the Deputy Headmistress at your school.'

'I - how DARE you - ' he started, but I raised my eyebrows at him.

He looked back at his half-empty bottle of vodka.

'Oh, bugger,' he pouted.

He grabbed the bottle, and started drinking.

CeeCee was giggling helplessly. I could see why. It WAS pretty funny. You know, our corny attempts to achieve mood lighting for our Bad Cop, Giggly Cop performance.

'Yes,' he muttered. 'I was . . . I was sleeping with Karen. You got me. Er - so, now you - know the truth, you ought to leave - '

Mrs La Rosa must definitely be dumb, deaf and blind. I mean, I couldn't imagine ANY woman finding Mr Head attractive. He was a LOSER.

'Truth is, Dickster,' I sighed, 'It's bigger than that, and you know it.'

The truth. Not his, erm, dickster.

I started pacing in front of the bar leisurely. 'Four boys, Richard. Four boys died in a fire in 1969. Nathaniel Blake, Charles Austin . . . Robin Lawrence. Who was the other one, Cee?'

'Bartholomew Ford,' she supplied.

'Oh yeah,' I smirked at Mr Head. 'Bart.'

He swallowed, and took another hurried swig of vodka. 'Good God,' he muttered to himself, wiping his forehead.

'Know them?' I asked innocently.

He shrugged nervously. He knew I knew. CeeCee knew he knew I knew. I knew CeeCee knew he knew I knew. He knew I knew that CeeCee knew he knew I knew -

. . . Sorry, teehee.

'The first three,' I said, 'were smart, bright, popular boys, right? Destined for great colleges and everything. Come on, you MUST have known them. After all, they were the reason your school closed down. I think a principal would definitely remember those names if he suddenly lost his job due to a bunch of kids.'

'I think you remember who they are, don't ya?' CeeCee tilted her head, her blond hair swishing and reflecting non-existent light in the windowless room.

'Of course he does,' I said, 'he was just shy before. You know who they are, don't ya, Heady?'

He wasn't looking at me. He was staring ahead, his eyes wide in realisation that he was indeed, SCREWED.

I love my job.

He'd finished his first bottle of vodka. He grabbed a second, looking terrified.

'I'm just going to jump to the chase,' I said. 'I AM drawing this out a little, after all. Richard Head, you murdered the Misfortunates of Fortunaschwein forty years ago. You fed the newspapers bullshit about them committing suicide. You're a killer, and a - '

'BE QUIET!' he shouted at me desperately.

' - cheater and you killed four boys, all because they knew whose pants your penis had ventured into, and you wanted to shut them up.'

'Stop it,' he menaced, standing up, but I shoved him back so he almost fell over on his chair. He steadied himself barely, gripping the bottle of vodka carefully. He was almost half-way through, the stupid alcoholic . . .

'No way,' I said, 'I'm up to the best bit, Mr Head Job.'

CeeCee didn't giggle this time, though.

'You had help,' I said. 'I mean, I'm not stupid. I know that if YOU had have burnt up the attic, you would have got caught in there too. You organised it all, though . . . the removal of Charlie, Robbie and Nathan, I mean. You had Bart.'

I winked at CeeCee, and again, her finger zoomed into her purse briefly.

Mr Head was positively sweating, now.

I laughed a little. 'You know the funny thing? You let him burn too. Even though he pulled a stupid shifter trick all for you. You knew that he was one of us, didn't you?' I said, rapidly stringing the evidence together, 'You caught him with a ghost. What, he told you the full extent of his abilities, and you decided to use that to your advantage? Did you threaten to tell some mental ward about him if he didn't help you?' I demanded. 'Because, as a shifter, that is something that gets us REALLY pissed off.'

'He was a little freak,' Mr Head glared at me.

'He helped you and you killed him too,' I said hatefully. HE WAS DISSING THE SHIFTER RACE.

OFF WITH HIS HEAD!

'He agreed to do it,' Mr Head said defensively. I urgently signalled to CeeCee, and she quickly poked something in her purse again, 'He knew as well as I did that those boys were trouble. They – they bullied him, apparently.' He nodded quickly. 'They wasted precious places in my school.'

That reminded me forcefully of the words of Michael Meducci.

. . . Another murderer of four people.

'So you killed them,' I said flatly. 'Wow, we sure know who the mature adult is in this situation. I'm not saying that THEY were right - they blackmailed you because you were screwing around with their English teacher. That's not mature either. But the point is,' I said, jabbing a thumb at him, 'you broke the law AND one of the commandments, and you SUCK.'

Hey, no one ever said I was mature.

For once, Mr Head had nothing to deny.

'So,' I said with calm anger. 'You cooked up a scheme to kill off his bullies, and your trouble makers,' I said, 'And you ended up selling out on Bart in the process. Well, if that is any incentive to not trust you, I don't know what the hell is.'

Mr Head's lips were shaking.

'CeeCee?' I asked. 'Did you get all of that?'

She nodded, and pulled out the tape recorder from her purse. 'Uh huh.'

She handed it to me, smiling.

And that's when Mr Head went psycho.

He smashed the bottle on the table-top, and seized CeeCee, jamming the broken bottle at her jugular. She gasped as he held her painfully tight. 'Give that to me,' he nodded aggressively at the tape, glaring and rocking on his feet in panic.

Stunned, I didn't move.

He shoved the glass closer to her neck, and she whimpered. 'GIVE IT HERE,' he roared heatedly.

I swallowed. I . . . I couldn't.

I had to.

If I didn't, he'd kill her. He'd killed before, after all. Or at least, organised murder.

However, I had a better idea . . .

Just breathe deeply and focus on the pencil. Now, imagine a line . . . a line of energy lifting the pencil up . . .

I glared at the bottle, concentrating. And to my joy, it lifted RIGHT out of his hands and into mine.

I RULE THE WOOOOOOOOOORLD!

'W - ' Mr Head demanded in wonder, and I suddenly made it so that even if he DID want kids, he couldn't have them. I dragged CeeCee away from him, and she held her neck, wincing. It was bleeding.

Mr Head sank to his knees, hunched over, clutching his man-bits, groaning.

I hated the fact that I had been right about Bart.

That he'd been the one, all along.

Robin didn't commit suicide all right, Bart. BECAUSE YOU KILLED HIM.

I mean, I thought he was the okay one. He wasn't involved in Dani's murder, after all.

But he was involved in a murder of his own. THREE people. Four, if you counted him too.

Feeling kind of disgusted, I glared at Mr Head again, before yanking him up by his collar. 'Come on, Dick-less,' I snarled at him, 'We're going to put four boys to rest. Four boys who need your apology. Try to run, and I'll take away your reason for being called Dick.'

He looked alarmed, as most men do when their penis is threatened.

So out of the house we went. Mr Head's car wasn't there. Abigail had obviously gone for a long drive. I shoved Mr Head in the backseat of CeeCee's car, putting the kiddie-lock on. Seeing as we had a naughty little boy in the backseat, and all.

'Okay, drive CeeCee,' I said. 'I'm sitting in the back with the Devil's freakin' Advocate.'

CeeCee got in the front, looking at Mr Head worriedly. She wiped her neck, which was still dribbling blood a little from being scratched, and then started the car.

'Police station?' she asked.

'No,' I corrected, 'Fortunaschwein.'

Mr Head looked at me in alarm. 'What are you going to do to me?'

'Nothing,' I replied, my eyebrows raised. 'We're just getting you to apologise, is all.'

'Oh,' he said in surprise. He settled in relief.

'Yep,' I said, 'They move on, and you go eat scones and jam with wifey dearest. All is swell.'

'That is,' CeeCee interjected, 'If you're not serving hard time for premeditated murder, of course.'

Mr Head blanched again.

'My main concern is letting restless spirits rest. These boys have been in purgatory for 40 long years. No wonder they're feeling depraved. They should have grown up to be doctors. Lawyers. They should have dated, fallen in love, had great careers, bought houses in the suburbs. But noooooo. You had to go and screw it all up, Richard-licker.'

'Would you STOP using my name like that?' Mr Head grimaced furiously.

I snickered. 'Nope.'

The car trip was freakishly silent. He didn't say anything. When we finally pulled up to the foreboding building that was Fortunaschwein Ex-Boarding School For Boys, I got a shiver. As if something bad was going to happen.

. . . Pfft.

I stuck my hand in my pocket and grabbed out my Nokia. However, the batteries had flat lined. So I couldn't call Paul and tell him to come back.

Oh well. They'd be here soon enough.

'Okay, Dicky-smooch,' I muttered, grabbing his upper arm, 'out we get.'

Yanking him out a little more savagely than necessary, I said firmly, 'Okay, nothing stupid from you. We're going to do this the right way, and no one will get hurt, okay? I don't want anyone to get hurt. There has been enough already. Everything will be fine for you if you just do as I tell you. I want these guys gone - the right way. Not exorcism, like you requested. You wanted them gone quick. I get why, now. I - '

I stopped, and looked at him blankly.

'You attacked Father Dominic, didn't you? With an AXE.'

'The - the back of it. Not the sharp side - '

I jerked him forward furiously by his shirt, wanting to punch him again. 'I hate you,' I promised him.

He didn't reply. He looked too scared too.

CeeCee and I walked Little Dicky up the long way till we reached the front of the school. However, Mr Head had could sight of his graveyard.

'My - my CEMETERY!' he shrilled, horrified, 'What did you do to my CEMETERY?'

'I blew it up,' I said. 'It was annoying me. Like you are, right now.'

He coughed on the spit he'd just choked on.

He glared at the front door of Fortunaschwein. 'I'm NOT going in there,' he said stubbornly. 'Bring them outside, I'll apologise here, thank you very much.'

'Um,' I rolled my eyes, 'How about NO.'

And I shoved him forward, while CeeCee opened the door.

Once inside, I felt Mr Head go horribly rigid. He looked around slowly, cautiously, his eyes narrowed. A thousand and one memories seemed to be hitting him right between the eyes. He twitched at each sound.

'Any particular room you like?' I asked him. 'Or shall we do this here?'

'Do what?' he asked.

'Apologise,' CeeCee informed.

He blinked lethargically. The vodka was taking its toll. Oh well, at least he could hold his liquor. Unlike me. 'Ballroom,' he said in one word. 'I . . . I haven't seen that room in a long, long time . . . '

'You have a BALLROOM?' I demanded, 'WHERE?'

WHY HAVE I NOT SEEN THIS THING HE CALLS A BALLROOM?

'Fourth floor,' he muttered, frowning in reminiscence. 'Opposite way of the attic . . . '

'Right,' I said, wishing Paul was here. I felt cold, suddenly. Shivery. Shaking off the chill determinedly, I marched Mr Head up the stairs with CeeCee, until we reached the fourth floor or Fortunaschwein.

He guided the way slowly, taking in everything that he hadn't seen for forty years. 'God,' he scowled, 'Look at the state of it.'

'Yeah,' I agreed, 'Ghosts can be pretty rowdy when they're pissed off about being murdered, and all.'

He sent me a cutting glare.

'So,' he asked very hesitantly, 'Er . . . how will this . . . work?'

It won't. I like my men younger.

'What?' I snapped in frustration, cooling around coldly at the portraits that adorned the walls of the fanciest floor.

'How is this going to be done?' he asked. 'I can't talk to them, much less see them.'

I groaned. He was really irritating me now. 'You forget who I am. I am a liaison between the living and the dead. I can see, hear and speak to them . . . God, I really should get the printed on my forehead. Or get business cards.'

'Er,' he mumbled unsurely, 'So you'll serve as a . . . translator?'

Nuuuuuuuuh, I'll serve as deodorant.

'Yes,' I gritted my teeth.

Dickedy-Doo-Dah stopped in front of the only door that had appeared for a long time on the wall facing the front of the school. 'This,' he presented, 'Is my ballroom.'

He pushed the doors open, and I gasped.

'Holy crap,' CeeCee breathed.

It really WAS holy-crap-worthy. It was . . . it was beautiful. My mouth dropped open at the cream walls, and the gold-flecked tiles on the floor. The drapery was all gold, and in the centre of the roof, the most AMAZING chandelier hung there, looking as ominous as it did spectacular. The crystals winked coldly at me.

The room was HUGE.

'The girls from St. Josephine's would come here for parties twice a year,' Mr Head explained lamely. 'The boys thought I had no idea that they'd take them back to their rooms to do things that were strictly against school rules. They thought I didn't notice. Lawrence and Blake were the worst,' he growled. 'I could just never prove it.'

I observed in disdain, 'you really had it in for those guys, didn't you.'

He looked offended. 'You don't know what you're talking about, girl,' he said dismissively. 'Those boys were nightmares.'

I had to agree. Their rape and murder of Danielle Moore hadn't exactly been the stuff that dreams were made of.

There were white sheets around all of the edges of the room draping what I presumed to be furniture. I finally let go of Mr Head's arm, and CeeCee followed my lead.

Suddenly, the chill in the air got unbearably cold. The three of us suddenly went tense. I looked around angrily.

They were here. I couldn't see them. They'd possessed the room . . . but they were here.

My tone may have been a LITTLE weak . . . but shut up, turd sniffs. 'Guys? Come out now, this is important.' I flinched a little, turning around and looking for a sign that they're stop hiding, and that they'd show, and we could get this over and done with and they'd move on and we could all go home and eat scones and jam.

The sheets around the room started moving eerily. I should have had the sense to turn the LIGHT on to prevent my getting-creeped-out-ness.

'NOW,' I said, irked.

'Aww, man,' Nathan groaned from behind me. 'You're no fun, Susie.'

I spun around quickly. Robin immediately materialized beside him, followed by Charles, who was glaring at Mr Head. Then Bart appeared. His eyes went very, VERY wide when he caught sight of who was standing beside CeeCee.

I got even more nervous when I saw Robin's face crack into a dark smirk. 'You brought him,' his voice rumbled with deep satisfaction. 'Good . . . '

I tossed my hair a little, worriedly. 'Yeah,' I said.

'Will they let me apologise?' Mr Head asked impatiently.

'Shut it,' I scowled at him.

'What's going on, Suze?' CeeCee asked, eyeing the wafting sheets at the edge of the room apprehensively.

I held Robin's gaze. 'Okay, so Dickweed here is going to make his most sincere apology for your murder. Because he IS sorry. ISN'T he?' I growled, elbowing Mr Head angrily.

'Uh - oh, yes,' he coughed, not knowing what was happening.

'See?' I said. 'He's totally sorry. The remorse thing is totally happening for him. So go on, Mr H. Make it official.'

Dick-suck looked around quickly, his eyes rather wide. 'I . . . I'm very sorry, boys, for what I've done. It was very selfish of me to only consider myself. You boys were so smart, you could get anything you wanted. And I stole it away because you knew things that you shouldn't have. It was wrong. I was wrong. And Bart . . . I'm sorry for using you . . . I really am. It just goes to show you how selfish and greedy man can be - '

'THAT'S enough apologising,' I said quickly, stamping on his foot quickly, but Robin's evil smirk had totally frozen.

'Bart?' he asked. 'What ABOUT Bart?'

'Nothing,' I babbled, panicking. 'Nothing at all. Just - you know, Bart's short and all, and Mr Head feels most sorry for him - '

Said shortie was standing beside Charlie, looking petrified, as if saying, No, Suze, WHY did you let him say that?

'Wow,' I said, 'It's amazing! You're already, um, fading! Enjoy the next life - '

'Liar,' Nathan breathed at me.

I swallowed. 'Look,' my voice was high, and stressed, 'He said SORRY, okay? He's sorry. So GO - '

But Robin was totally spun around, and had grabbed fistfuls of Bart's shirt. 'What does he MEAN?' he spat at Bart murderously. 'How did he "use you," you little squirt?'

Bart tried to pry Robbie's hands away from his uniform, but it was no go. This only earned the blond guy a vicious shake, which made him squeal.

Just BRIMMING with masculinity, he is.

'Robin, let him go,' I snapped. 'Look, just let me finish - '

'We've heard ENOUGH from you,' Charlie boomed in my face, before slapping me one across the face.

I stumbled, and CeeCee yelled out, 'Suze!'

Mr Head looked terrified. 'What's going ON?' he demanded urgently, 'What is happening, damn it?'

'You're a LOSER,' I shrilled at him, 'You just COULDN'T keep the Bart thing to yourself. Did it ever occur to you that they didn't KNOW that little detail yet?'

'WHAT DETAIL?' Robin thundered at me, throwing Bart away and coming to grab ME instead.

'You told me to apologise!' Mr Head chuckled nervously, 'So - so I did. To all of them.'

GRRRRRR!

Robin looked poisonously at Bart, who was cowering. He tried to dematerialize, but the three of them were keeping him there, not letting him leave. The thick smog of Astral Block suddenly impacted on my ability to think or act. Robin released me, and I moved back hurriedly against CeeCee who was now shaking.

I yanked Mr Head back next to us. I WAS GOING TO KILL HIM. HE RUINED IT, PFFT!

'What DID YOU DO?' Nathan shoved Bart with an irate suspicion.

'Aaah not, Nate,' Robbie said, suddenly adopting a chiding tone. He was boiling by the second, though. I could see it in his eyes. They were dark with a rage that was hissing madly, in hiding. 'Lay off. Let's let Bartie-boy explain . . . he needs to do a lot of explaining lately. Like, why he's taken a fancy to the new girl in the school.'

Huh? Girl? WHAT girl?

. . . Oh. That one.

'Looking out for her all the time,' Nathan added, sounding like the slithering of a snake, 'Watching her . . . '

Bart was shaking his head, his eyes wide. 'No, I - look, guys, just listen, you - '

Robbie stepped closer, and crossed his muscular arms. 'Come on, Bartie. What was so horrible that you kept it a secret from us?'

The windows started opening and closing. Banging. Loudly. The mirror along the wall wobbled hazardously, and all the candlesticks snapped off as if destructive wind was blowing at them. I pulled Mr Head and CeeCee another step back. CeeCee was staring, appalled, at the haunting.

'Yes,' Charlie said, cracking his knuckles. 'Do tell, Bart?'

Bart looked close to tears. His blond hair didn't look so floppy or puppyish anymore. 'I'm SORRY!' he screamed at them, 'I'm sorry! He made me, I swear! I didn't want to, but he said if I didn't start the fire he'd tell everyone what I was - what I THOUGHT I was! I didn't mean for it to happen like that, but he - I'm sorry!'

The silence that greeted this revelation chilled me to the bone. I held my breath.

'We're sorry too, Bart,' Robbie whispered. 'For this.'

And with that, the three of them focused an energy with the intensity of lightning, on Bart. He started writhing and screaming, and I gasped sharply and pulled CeeCee and Mr Head in, saying under my breath, 'We HAVE to get out of here . . . I made a big, big mistake. And YOU'RE a fucktard,' I added to Mr Head heatedly, 'You've screwed up everything!'

'Suze, please!' CeeCee said, scared.

'Okay,' I panted, 'Run!'

Well, CeeCee bolted, Mr Head followed closely behind, me bringing up the rear. Cee got to the door but suddenly, the whole lot of us were violently thrown back against the tiled floor. We skidded before landing painfully.

'YOU,' Charlie's eyes were black with rage, 'Are not going ANYWHERE, Sir.'

'You lit the fire?' Robbie was roaring at Bart, 'YOU'RE like SUSIE? You burned us all, Bart? You were yelling! We thought it was at him! But - it was TO HIM!'

Mr Head was suddenly levitated in the air, before being slammed back down with murderous intent.

Oh God, oh God . . . what had I done?

'Stop it!' I shrieked at Robbie, standing up at break-neck speed. 'This is NOT helping!'

'Actually,' Robbie laughed madly, 'It feels GREAT.'

And Mr Head was thrown against the roof, and then was smashed against the floor once again.

CeeCee flinched, still on the ground.

Mr Head was groaning in pain. 'I apologised!' he hollered at me in outrage, 'I - I said I was sorry, what - '

It wasn't enough.

Horrified at what I'd created, and quickly ran to CeeCee. 'Get out!' I squealed, helping her over to the door. She was out in a flash. 'I'll get help,' she promised, before hightailing it. I turned back to the Misfortunates. I then ran over to Mr Head. 'Get up,' I tried pulling him to his feet, but a hand swiped me away from him.

Charles.

'You'll do WELL,' he hissed, 'To leave well enough alone, Susie.'

I winced as his hand once again branded my skin. My arm stung, and felt like breaking.

Robin and Nathan were hammering into Bart with such abandon, such RAGE, that I could feel my breath become rare. Gasping for air, I clutched my chest, wincing.

'I'm sorry!' Bart cried out, but that only caused the mirror to shatter. I screamed, and flattened myself against the floor in order to avoid shards. I was not touched.

Charlie was repeatedly banging Mr Head against the ground. 'Now you are at OUR mercy,' he spat at him.

'Let him OUT!' I pleaded, lifting my head up. 'Please! I thought you guys were ABOVE this crap.'

. . . She says to the boys who sexually assaulted a supermodel, before staging her death.

OKAY, I was NAIVE, I GET IT!

'You do NOT know us!' Charlie's voice echoed in my mind like he was both a thousand miles away, and right beside my ear. I held my head in pain.

Robbie looked away from Bart, his face alive with murder and thrill. 'Thank you, Susie, for bringing him here. We're most grateful. I honestly did not think you would be so stupid as to believe that we just wanted to hear him say he was sorry,' he snorted. 'But you were, and that's worked in our favour.'

'Let her out!' Bart begged Robin, 'She didn't - she didn't DO anything - '

Charlie pounded on him. Mr Head took that moment to bolt. He ran to the door, but it slammed as soon as he got there, and locked itself.

'What is going ON?' he screeched at me in misery, 'You said - '

'I'm so sorry . . . ' I whispered, dismayed. 'I'm so, so sorry . . . I was - I was wrong . . . they're not going to - ' my throat choked up as I realized my terrible, terrible error. 'They're not letting you go, Richard.'

'Why NOT? What are they SAYING?'

'Go on, Susie, tell him what we're saying . . . ' Robin glared at me. 'Be the bearer of bad news. Be the shifter that you are.'

'Leave her alone, Robbie!' Bart warned, high-pitched.

Robbie laughed at him. 'My God, you're naïve,' he commented on Bart. 'But Suze has a message for our principal. Come on, Suze. Say this to him: I'm going to kill him. We all are. We, being Nate, Charles and me. Bart, well, we'll deal with him later . . .'

I was silent.

'TELL HIM,' Nathan exploded at me darkly.

I winced.

Charlie, Nathan and Robbie came to stand in a row, glaring at Mr Head.

Murder.

They stank of murder.

Why didn't I see it before? WHY am I so DUMB!

Suddenly, a voice at the door made my heart thump with life. 'Suze? Are you okay?' It was Paul. I withdrew a painful breath of relief. He'd help. It would be okay. He was back . . . 'The door's locked, Suze, I can't - '

'Suze!' Bart squeaked, 'The - the door's open, get out!'

I ran for it, dragging Mr Head along with me. Paul opened the door, and Mr Head fell over him.

'GET HIM OUT OF HERE!' I freaked, going completely psycho, 'DEMATERIALISE WITH HIM!'

'NO!' Robbie stormed, 'Don't you DARE - '

But Paul had grabbed Mr Head's shoulders, panicked at how panicky I was, and was gone.

He'd come back for me in a second –

However, it was then that something dark, something deadly, something desperate and heated happened.

I'd delivered their killer to safety. I'd brought him here. He was their kill. And I'd let him get away.

And they did not like that one bit.

Because at that precise moment, pain and oppression like I'd NEVER known rained down on me. An Astral Block SO intense almost forced me against the floor, making the gravity heavy and hard. 'Aaah!' I moaned, my knees going weak. I slipped, my head feeling like it was going to explode.

Everything got so much darker, so much heavier. I tried to keep getting breath. My hair slipped to the sides of my face.

I knew.

They weren't just possessing the room anymore.

They had the whole SCHOOL now . . .

They weren't letting ANYONE come in.

Or ANYONE go out.

'You let him go,' Robin's voice, though calm-sounding, was so full of hate and rage, that it scythed its way into my ears. I looked up at him, scared.

'You were going to kill him,' I reasoned, 'I had t - '

'We are going to kill YOU,' Nathan fired at me.

I paled.

Robin, insane in anger, just chuckled. He was mad. Mad, mad, mad . . . 'Oh well, look what the consolation prize is? The pretty girl, with no one to protect her any more . . . all alone . . . '

'She can barely move,' Charlie laughed at me.

It was true. I couldn't.

Robin smiled at me in a very dark way. He was the predator, I was the prey. He had me trapped, and I was helpless. They - they were too powerful. I was their new kill.

It wasn't FAIR.

Paul couldn't get in . . . he couldn't match an Astral Block like this.

I could scarcely BREATHE because of it . . .

I made a very brave attempt of standing up, but immediately, they made me slip over.

'Oh, the power we have over her now,' Robin laughed. 'It feels good, doesn't it boys?'

Nathan and Charlie laughed, eyes flickering in sick excitement.

Robbie's eyes were closed. He was smiling, looking incredibly satisfied. 'Damn,' he grinned, his eyelids flickering. He held out his arms. 'If we can be DEAD and feel like this . . . '

Like shifters, ghosts channel their emotions to fuel their power. And those three Misfortunates were going through some SERIOUS emotional crap there, because it was only serving to intensify their already frightening amount of power.

Anger, hate, pain.

Three strong emotions.

Three emotions that could make three dead boys VERY deadly.

And guess who was there for them to test-drive this power on?

Ozzy Osbourne.

. . . Not.

Dematerialise, dematerialise, dematerialise, dematerialise . . . break through it, Suze . . . try, try harder, they'll kill you if you don't, NO PRESSURE, dematerialise . . . dematerialise –

'Look - '

One word, and suddenly I was forced on my back, my arms pinned to my sides. The three of them broke out in laughter.

'We can do whatever we want to her,' Robin said, making it sound like this was every ghost's wet dream. 'And she can't even run. And her cowboy can't come to help her. Or her lawyer . . . '

They had complete power over me. I couldn't move unless they willed it. Their will dominated over mine. I was under their control, and my GOD it was painful . . .

I felt like a shadow had entered me. It refused to leave.

My head wanted to erupt volcanically with the heat. Panting sharply, feeling the jagged air in my throat, I tried moving. ANY movement other than shaking.

I couldn't. It hurt too much to try.

Robin came over me, his knees either side of my hips. I was trembling so badly that I was almost convulsing. I was trying SO hard to break free of the control. I was.

But I wasn't strong enough.

I doubted a hundred shifters could have broken through the rage of Robin Lawrence, Charles Austin and Nathaniel Blake, then.

Robbie trailed a hand down my face, smirking. For a mere second, he gave me a chance at movement, in which I tried wriggling from under him, but looking sickly amused, me seized my wrists and jammed them beside my head.

He'd done that on purpose. Let me try to get away . . . then trapped me again.

'I like it better when you struggle,' he whispered down at me as if it were a secret.

My heart seized up completely, with unshakeable fear.

Released momentarily once again, I started thrashing about. 'Get OFF of me - ' I commanded, my voice full of oxygen that my brain was not receiving. He ran his hand through my dark hair, thumbing down my cheek.

I felt the control come back full force.

Then, however, his hands left my hair.

. . . And they were at the zipper of my jeans, which they COMPLETELY unzipped.

Dark, gripping memories of Cole doing the exact same thing suddenly seized me.

Robin slid my jeans down, smirking. His eyes were getting far too dark for me to continue looking up into. I couldn't bear to look up at him. Not when I knew what he was about to do.

That's when I started really screaming.

- 8 -

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