Wanda gaze down at the book in her lap, but wasn't registering the hand-written words on the page at all.

She'd had a very troubled morning after a very troubled night.

There was certainly more then something strange going on at her father's opera, and she wished she had known about it before now because she probably wouldn't have decided to come sing.

She loved the acting part, and the plays….but the people, the place, the…sinister feeling she didn't like. It made her very uneasy.

The only logical explanation for what was happening was that people were hiding things, not telling the truth. There was something…bubbling under the surface. She didn't like this thought at all because it made her suspicious of everything and everyone. Simon's friendly—and slightly flirty—comments and gestures, Raven's silent demeanour and how she'd been around the longest, the strange visitor from last night and the men in the opera….

She closed the diary and pulled the blanket up to her chin, longing for the quiet cottage she had been living in by the sea…it no longer seemed boring.

She'd accepted the invitation from her father because she was tired of living there. It had gotten boring. But now she felt like leaving again, going back to it. She'd thought maybe she could find…that missing piece here.

"There's always Simon, I suppose." She murmured to herself almost sarcastically. However she doubted he actually cared for her at all. It was very superficial—plus, she was the daughter to his employer, highly convenient.

"Excuse me."

Wanda blinked, positive she'd just heard the strange voice from last night. "Hello?"

"If you're done reading my book…I'd like to have it back. Please."

Wanda glanced down at the diary in her hands and flushed, realising she'd been caught reading someone's personal property. And it snapped her from her thoughts rather sharply.

She hesitantly pushed it toward the end of the bed.

A dark hand flashed out and grabbed it before she finished blinking.

"You're…not a ghost, are you?" she asked quietly, her head spinning. A ghost wouldn't write a diary…would it? That diary had felt too human. A human struggling for a place, a purpose. Kind of like her.

She waited for an answer.

"No. I am no ghost." The reply was very quiet.

"And…there's not a ghost, is there?" she probed further, hesitant to ask too much after this….dark figure's disappearance last night. She felt like this person, thing, whatever, was very important to what had been going on.

"No. No ghost."

Wanda was silent. "You said last night you didn't kill those men…"

"I didn't!" the voice was high and almost nervous.

Nervous about what? What was it scared of? Was it guilty?

"You do realise it's hard to believe that when you're an invisible…being, who knows how to sneak around the opera house. Why *shouldn't* I call my father in here and tell him I've found his ghost." Wanda folded her arms, staring at the end of her bed on the floor. She could see, in the darkness, a shadow moving some. It wasn't invisible. "Why?" she demanded.

"I can't give you a reason. I can't make you believe me. But I do know…that those men last night would have killed you, if they'd found you."

Wanda blinked several times and ran her fingers through her hair. "This…this is crazy. What's happening…" her voice choked up suddenly at the end and she pressed her lips together.

Kurt crouched on the floor, watching Wanda's eyes fill with tears suddenly. She was scared. Scared of him, scared of what was happening to her father's opera and scared because she didn't know what to believe.

And Kurt felt…guilty and painfully sorry for her. She didn't know the truth—the truth was hidden, twisted and turned to make people believe it was a lie.

He could tell her the truth. Show her.

But…what would be the consequences?

He swallowed, pushing that to the back of his mind before quickly jumping up and grabbing her hand before vanishing back into the opera house and his small living quarters.

Wanda froze, staring at the large wall in front of her.

There were newspaper clippings, about the opera, the ghost, the man being killed.

Slowly her eyes moved around the room, noticing the mattress and old blanket, the box TV…

A book was pushed to her feet. The diary.

"You…live here?" her eyes darted to the shadows in the corner and she swallowed noticing this time a pair of yellow eyes blinked at her.

"Yes. For a long time, since the circus came. I broke free and vanished into the sewer system."

"You were in the circus?" Wanda was confused still, also very wary.

"The crowd liked to stare at me. People paid money."

"Why?" Wanda wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

"Because of who I am. They called me the Nightcrawler. A demon from hell."

Wanda's gaze snapped to a heading on one of the articles about such a demon.

"You said you weren't the ghost!"

"I'm not. Ghosts haunt people…I am the one being hunted."

Wanda shook her head pulling away to pace around the room. "I don't want to believe this."

"You wanted to know the truth."

"My father wouldn't just…hunt down someone and try to kill them!"

"A demon?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Demons don't exist." Wanda insisted flatly, a little desperately. Like she didn't believe it.

Then she turned and found one staring at her. Hanging from the ceiling, yellow eyes blinking, tail lashing…

Kurt jumped down to the floor before she could scream, eyes wide with concern. "Please…if you scream they will find me!"

"You…you're…" Wanda backed away a couple steps from the terrifying blue creature in front of her.

"I'm not what your father and everyone thinks I am, please…" Kurt swallowed hard, pleading with her. But his monstrous appearance was too much for Wanda and she tightly closed her eyes, trembling.

"No…no…take me back. Now!"

Kurt blinked sadly, hesitating for a moment before obeying her wish, and then returning to his room without her.

What had he done?