Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long, but there's been a lot of family stuff going on recently, so I've been busy. I've just realised it was over two years ago I posted the first chapter of Looking On. I can't believe I was only fifteen then! Anyway, this is the next chapter-hope you enjoy it! Leave a review if you did!

The seconds stretched on but Isabelle still didn't turn her head. She stayed, looking the other way, the breath caught in her throat, her hands knotted in her clothes. The air was still around her, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had frozen, or had simply come to an end.

Then, she heard Morgan's voice. "God-"

It was then that she spun round, heel skidding beneath her, and her eyes fell on Bo. The moan of horror had risen to her own throat-but there was no blood, no twisted bones, no physical sign of any injury.

Instead, there was Merrill, almost spread-eagled on the ground, his arms stretched out above him slightly-and Bo lying in them. Her eyes were open, glazed slightly but open, and she was still-but even from here, Isabelle could see the rise and fall of her niece's chest. Bo was alive-alive and apparently unhurt.

Isabelle's eyes dropped to Merrill, who remained still for a moment, and then straightened up, wincing. Bo was lifted in his arms, her head falling against his shoulder. He had caught her a second before she hit the ground, his own landing being the thud Isabelle had heard.

There was a moment of stunned silence and then a rush of motion from everyone at once.

Isabelle dived towards Merrill and her niece, as Devon, at her side, moved rapidly, too-but towards Morgan, who was fumbling with his inhaler. "Here" Isabelle heard the other boy say, his voice uncharacteristically rapid. "Let me do it" but she was too busy grabbing Merrill's shoulder, her eyes finding Bo's face.

"BO!" Her own voice was a jagged cry, and Merrill turned to look at her, clearly longing to reach out and touch her arm, but unable to.

"She's OK" he said, and his own voice was thin, almost plaintive. "I caught her. She's OK."

But Isabelle wasn't satisfied with that, instead peering over Merrill's arm, staring at her niece. Bo's eyes weren't meeting hers'. Instead, they stared over her uncle's shoulder, lost in space, her arms limp. They hadn't travelled around Merrill's neck, as Isabelle expected-instead, they hung there, fingers dangling in the air, as if Bo was a rag doll.

"Bo-" Isabelle shook her shoulder and at that moment Graham's head appeared in the upstairs window.

Isabelle looked up and for a moment, her hands fastened on Merrill's shoulders, to keep herself upright. Because the expression on Graham's face was one she had barely ever seen before-his eyes wide, his hands clutching the windowsill for support-and he looked almost haggard, as if he had lived a thousand years of terror in a second. Isabelle could remember seeing Graham look like this only twice before-the night her sister had died, and that night in the basement, with Morgan lying in his arms, his son's face blanched white, his eyes flickering as he fought for breath...

It was then that Isabelle turned at the sound of a small cough to see Morgan standing, inhaler clearly just removed from his lips, Devon's hand on his shoulder. Morgan's face was pale, as was to be expected but Isabelle was startled at the look on Devon's face-his eyes wide, teeth digging into his lip, skin paler than usual.

"Morgan-" she started, taking a step towards her nephew but he held up a hand. "I'm good" he said, though his voice was slightly hoarse. "Just-" He gestured towards the inhaler as though Isabelle needed a reminder of the possible consequences of an attack.

She nodded, and Devon kept his eyes on Morgan's face. "Are you sure?"

His voice was shorter than usual, tighter, and he kept his hand on Morgan's shoulder, the fingers digging into his friend's shirt. Morgan didn't pull away, instead simply nodding, his eyes fixed on his younger sister. Bo's gaze was still unfocused, her attention not riveted to anything.

Merrill looked up at the house. "Graham-" he said, and his voice trailed away. His eyes remained fixed on his elder brother, who was still clutching the window sill, as though it might vanish if he let go.

There was a moment of silence and then Graham spoke. "Bring her inside" he said, sounding as if every word were an effort. "I'm calling Elizabeth."

Merrill neglected to mention that his arm felt like a several-ton weight had slammed into it for a few minutes after they had carried Bo inside, instead placing his niece in her father's arms and settling her on the couch. But when Isabelle took hold of his elbow and he winced, her eyes widened and she yanked up his sleeve, which made him wince harder.

"What is it?" she said, her voice lowered. "What's wrong?"

Merrill tried to defer any hysterics by telling her he was fine, but the second he moved, it felt like his arm was on fire, and Isabelle had steered him into the kitchen before sitting him on a chair and clamping an ice pack to his arm.

"Did she land awkwardly?" was her first question, as she sat down next to Merrill, tentatively touching his forearm and hesitating when he winced.

He shook his head. "No" he said, and gritted his teeth as Isabelle hesitantly moved her fingers over his skin, clearly feeling for breaks or sprains. "My arm just got twisted when I caught her-"

"It was probably the height," Isabelle decided, yanking the first aid kit towards them. "The gravity plus the height meant that the impact would have been much stronger than usual."

"The whole falling out a window thing probably helped."

Isabelle nodded, but Merrill noticed the colour had drained from her face, and her teeth dug into her lip as she turned away from him. "Keep the ice pack on" she said, her voice strained. "Maybe we'll need to bandage it."

Merrill frowned. "Izzy?"

Isabelle glanced towards the living room doorway, and then took a step closer to the table, bending down to whisper in Merrill's ear. "I can't stop thinking about that freaking book."

Merrill's eyebrows knitted together. "What-"

"The book Morgan gave us."

Merrill nodded. "Right."

Isabelle shook her head, sinking into a chair next to him. "This is-" She looked at him. "This is weird. Not just psychological weird. This is weird. This is concerning. She's not speaking. She's not looking at us. She just tried-" Isabelle's hands had twisted together so tightly Merrill thought she might cut off her circulation and gently, he slid his fingers between hers', loosening her grip slightly.

"You're thinking about that Chosen stuff, aren't you?" he asked, not bothering with the preamble.

Isabelle bit her lip and nodded. "I know it sounds nuts" she said, and Merrill couldn't help but notice she was avoiding his gaze. "I know I sound nuts. But this-"She gestured between them. "This whole thing's totally insane."

Merrill closed his eyes. "What do you want to do?"

"What can we do?" and Isabelle looked up to see Morgan standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the door frame, eyes fixed on his uncle and aunt. "What are we supposed to do?"

Isabelle shook her head. "How's Bo?"

Morgan's gaze dropped. "Still not speaking."

Isabelle worried at her lip. She glanced at Morgan. "We'll talk about it later, OK? Let's just wait and see what her doctor says."

Morgan nodded and turned to walk away. Then, quite suddenly, he paused before turning back to look at them. "This-" He pointed to himself, then indicated the living room with his head. "This isn't normal stuff, is it?"

Isabelle and Merrill exchanged glances, as Isabelle answered with one word. "No."

Bo stayed still, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her head leant against her daddy's shoulder as Elizabeth knelt in front of her.

"Do you remember what happened, Bo?"

Bo remembered everything that happened, but she wasn't going to tell Elizabeth that.

"Bo?" Daddy was watching her. He had his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed. Bo knew that look. It was the look he wore when he wondered what Morgan wasn't telling him, when he came into her room that night that Morgan saw her outside. She knew that look.

She looked back at Elizabeth and shook her head.

Elizabeth sighed, and tilted her head to the side. "Bo..do you remember the last thing you were doing before you climbed up to your window?"

Bo shook her head again and saw Elizabeth's brows contract. She hesitated, letting the words hover at her lips.

"I mean..maybe I was reading."

"Reading?" Graham's voice was low, as he brushed the hair off Bo's face.

"Reading." Bo stuck her thumb in her mouth and let her eyes drift away from her father's face. She didn't know how much Elizabeth would know. She didn't know what Elizabeth wanted her to say.

She just knew that she couldn't tell her everything.

Graham sighed and touched his daughter's hair. Elizabeth glanced at him and then back at Bo. "OK, Bo" she said, with that smile that didn't touch her eyes. "Well done."

She turned to Daddy and whispered something about "seeing him outside" but Bo didn't listen. Her eyes drifted away so they were focused on the floor. She let herself count the cracks in the wood. She liked to do that when she was little-when the water tasted sour in her mouth, and her tongue burnt with the flavour. Morgan said she was still little, but Bo knew she was a big girl now.

She sat back on the couch and it was then that a shadow appeared in the family room doorway.

"Hey." It was Devon. Morgan's friend Devon-Devon Pritchard. Lionel Pritchard's younger brother. Bo looked up at him, and decided to keep quiet.

Devon didn't seem to mind. He took another step into the room. "You mind if I sit?"

Bo didn't say anything. She waited for Devon to leave but he kept looking at her and finally, keeping her lips pressed together, she shook her head slightly, a miniscule movement that seemed to catch Devon's eye anyway.

He headed for the couch next to her, but perched awkwardly on the arm. "So" he said, after a long moment.

Bo didn't say anything back. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, not letting it wander over to him.

It wasn't that she didn't like Devon. It was just that she knew she couldn't tell him things and she knew he wanted to ask. So it was better not to say anything. Anyone should be able to figure that out, Bo thought.

Several seconds stretched by in silence, without Devon saying anything. Instead, he simply sat and watched her. Bo avoided his gaze. She could hear voices in the kitchen and knew that Morgan was in there with Uncle Merrill and Isabelle. She wondered if they were talking about her.

"Are you OK?" Devon's voice was softer than she expected. "You know. Are you hurt?"

Bo's lips compressed once again for a moment, but then she thought about the question. After a moment of struggling, she let her eyes drift over to him and shook her head quickly.

"Good" said Devon, voice a little lighter now. "That's good."

The silence fell again. Bo said nothing, instead letting her gaze slide to the opposite wall once more.

Devon sighed. "It's weird."

He didn't say any more and after a moment Bo looked up at him. But Devon wasn't looking at her. He was looking over her shoulder, past her, his eyes scrutinizing the same cracks in the floor she'd been counting. Bo wondered if he was counting, too.

"It's weird when people ask you stuff" Devon said and his voice was lower now, rougher-like it was catching on something in his throat. "When they want you to give them answers and you can't give them any."

Bo swallowed, but didn't look away from him. Her fingers had closed more tightly on the fabric of the cushions and she was knotting it between her fingers, squeezing the material.

"And they just keep asking and you just keep telling them you can't say." Devon was still watching the cracks, his eyes narrowed, and his hands interlocked, tugging at his fingers. "And then everything gets-confusing." He chewed his lip, apparently unaware of his own actions.

Bo watched, and her own teeth nibbled at her lip.

Devon glanced at her, and then blinked, seeming to realise who he was talking to. "Don't worry about it." He tried for a laugh. "It's going to be OK."

But Bo didn't look away from him and after a few moments, the laughter died from Devon's face. The smile fell too, and for a few seconds he simply looked back at her, her eyes on his.

"OK" he said, softly. "I hope it's going to be OK. That help?"

Bo didn't answer but after a few moments, she scooted a little closer to him on the couch. Devon's eyes flickered to her as she turned back, now seated only a few inches away from him.

She didn't say anything but she shifted uneasily, and after a moment, Devon leaned down and his arm slid around her shoulders. He had to swing himself down next to her and his arm felt different to what she expected-almost clumsy, as if it didn't quite know what to do with itself, different to the way Morgan slung his arms around her whenever he hugged her. But it didn't feel bad and Bo leant her head against him automatically, the way she did when Morgan or Daddy or Uncle Merrill or Isabelle hugged her on their laps, when they were watching a movie or she was being tucked into bed, the way she used to when Mommy hugged her, too.

She felt Devon stiffen for a moment, and then slowly, his arm tightened around her, like a barrier. It felt strong, like a shield in those battles on TV that Morgan watched, like something that wouldn't break, that you could hold onto if you needed to. Bo leaned into Devon and after a moment, felt his fingers move up and slowly, cautiously, pat her hair, gently, very gently, as if she might break.

"I think it might be time we considered some further psychiatric testing."

Graham blinked at the therapist's words. "What?" he said, his eyes moving to hers' where they stood in the hallway. He glanced back at the family room doorway and automatically adjusted his body so that he was angled away from the room, hoping the words would avoid his daughter's ears.

Elizabeth sighed and then glanced down at her feet. "Bo isn't responding to psychiatric treatment. I think the problem here may lie deeper than a post-traumatic disorder."

"So..what does that mean?" Graham briefly considered calling Isabelle out into the hallway-she was the one studying psychology.

Elizabeth met his gaze, head on, and her eyes narrowed. "It means we consider the possibility of some kind of early-onset schizophrenia."

"What?" Graham shook his head, as if that would dislodge the words from his ears, as if that would make them disappear, as if that way they'd never have existed at all. "Schizophrenic? Bo?"

"I did warn you this might be a possibility" Elizabeth said gently.

"But-" Graham pushed a hand over his eyes, trying to rearrange his thoughts, trying to conjure all the reasons why Bo couldn't possibly be schizophrenic, why that simply couldn't be. "She-she's only six-how could she-"

"I don't think now's the best time to explain all of this" Elizabeth said, her voice growing steadier by the second. Her eyes moved over Graham's face, taking in the lines, the eyes darkened, aged with worry. "I think you should bring Bo in for an emergency appointment tomorrow morning, and we'll discuss the possible options then."

"What options?" Graham knew his voice was louder than he'd intended, but somehow, that didn't matter. Not right now. Not when he was being told his daughter might have some kind of mental illness.

"Obviously, medication would be one of the first treatments we would offer." Elizabeth's voice remained calm and her eyes remained fixed on Graham's. "But it would take a certain amount of time to get the dosage right and there can be side effects-"

Side effects. Graham tried to push away what that might mean, tried to push away the image of Bo staring at a wall, eyes glazed, utterly silent. "What other options are there?"

Elizabeth hesitated and the second stretched out between them. She dropped her gaze. "Depending upon the severity of her symptoms, we may recommend or even require hospitalization."

Graham blinked. "Hospitalization?"

"It would be in a children's psychiatric ward, where she'd be cared for. You could visit her every day, stay overnight as a visitor if you wanted-"

Graham was already shaking his head. "No. No, no, no. Not hospitalization. I-" He was finding it hard to breathe, the air seeming to tear at his throat. An image of his son gasping for breath flashed briefly into his mind. His son, sitting in the kitchen, completely oblivious to what was going on out here, completely oblivious to the idea of his sister being taken away, locked up on some hospital ward.

"No" he said, and his voice was surer this time, firmer in its' own certainty. "No. I'm not-" He had to break off for a moment. "She's not being locked up" he said after a second, when he'd recovered himself. "Bo is not being locked up."

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes clouded with sympathy. "I understand your point of view. And please note that that would always be considered a last resort. But I must warn you-" And here, she raised her hand, as if to touch Graham's arm, but thought better of it. "There may be circumstances in which hospitalization would be mandatory. Depending on the severity of the symptoms."

Graham couldn't look at her as he asked the next question. "And-given all the cases you've seen-and what happened tonight-" He raised his gaze for a moment. "How severe would you say Bo's are?"

Elizabeth didn't answer and that's when Graham looked away. He couldn't stand to look into her eyes and see the sympathy there, the sympathy that told him her answer before she spoke it aloud.

"Jumping out of a window. An attempt on her own life. Graham-" She took a breath and somewhere, Graham's brain noted that this was the first time she'd used his name in the conversation. "I don't wish to alarm you but-" She looked straight at him now, and her eyes were clear, steady, leaving no room for doubt. "I've got to tell you, that would be considered pretty severe."

Graham nodded slowly. It seemed to take a while for the words to settle in his brain. Pretty severe. Attempt on life. Hospitalization. None of them-until recently-words he'd thought applied to him or his family.

Then again, he'd never thought the word invasion would apply, either. Or alien. Or, if you wanted to go back further, car wreck or single father. Graham knew better than that-the nightmares you thought would never be yours, the words you thought you would never need to use, could end up being perfect descriptions for you and your life.

He swallowed. "I'll bring her in for an appointment tomorrow."

Elizabeth nodded. "We'll take it from there." Her eyes gave her away, a quick glance towards the family room. "Maybe we shouldn't leave her tonight."

"No." Graham stepped in front of the door, thinking of his daughter just a few feet away, his daughter, locked in a room somewhere. Bo, crying for him, for him to come and take her home.

His head dropped for a moment and he had to take several deep breaths. It was a moment before he could look at Elizabeth. "No" he said, when he could speak again. "Not tonight."

Elizabeth swallowed. "OK" she said, though she was plainly unsure. "But if anything does happen-call me, OK? Here's my home number."

She handed him a card, which Graham slipped into his pocket without looking at it. "Thanks."

Elizabeth turned away and Graham stepped forward to show her to the door. "And Graham-"

"What?"

Elizabeth looked at him. "It's still only a possibility at this point" she said, her voice softer now. "It's perfectly possible that there are other reasons Bo isn't responding to therapy. Things will become clearer tomorrow."

Graham nodded but avoided her eyes. His daughter had thrown herself out of a window tonight. What explanation could there be that could possibly be counted as reassuring?

Elizabeth sighed. "And Graham-" She bit her lip, glanced away, then back again. "I know it sounds mad, but try not to worry."

"Mad." Graham felt his lips twitch at the choice of phrasing. "Good choice of word."

Elizabeth winced. "Sorry. Foot in mouth syndrome."

"It's fine." Graham shook his head and Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet his.

"Worrying won't solve anything" she said. "Just keep an eye on her."

Graham nodded and this time, Elizabeth let her fingers settle on his arm for a moment, brushing his skin for a breath of a second before she bid him a goodnight and turned away, to her car. Graham watched until she was out of sight and remained where he was for a few more seconds, eyes staring into the dimming twilight with the last glimmers of sunset still peeking over the horizon, before he turned back to the house, to head back inside to his family who'd want answers, and to a daughter who wasn't speaking.

The second they got home that evening, Isabelle yanked out Morgan's book, no longer merely through interest but because she didn't feel she had a choice anymore. This was too far. This was not ignore-worthy nonsense. This was a kid jumping out of a window.

Merrill leaned over her shoulder as Isabelle flipped frantically through the pages. "What are you looking for?"

Isabelle didn't pay attention, instead muttering to herself frantically as she flicked the pages. "Some kind of contact details."

Merrill nodded, then blinked as the reality of what Isabelle had just said hit him. "What?"

Isabelle sighed. "It's the only thing I can think of."

"Izzy-"

Isabelle turned to look at him. "This guy wrote this book and he's the only one who seems to know this stuff. I've typed this stuff about Chosen Kids into Google a dozen times and I've got nothing. All I get is a couple of links to this book. This guy is the only one who knows what might be going on with Bo."

"Izzy-"

"Look, I know it's hard for you." Isabelle pushed her hand through her hair. "I know you still have a hard time with this stuff. I know I'm freaking you out. But I can't just sit here-"

"No, Izzy-"

"I can't just let something happen to her, Merrill. I can't just let her keep acting like-"

"Izzy, I was just going to say-have you tried typing the author's name into Google?"

Isabelle opened her mouth then blinked once or twice. "I-" She swung herself off the bed and headed for the computer in the living room.

As she sat herself down in front of the open search engine, Merrill spoke. "That'd be no, right?"

Isabelle glared at the screen as she flipped the book upright to examine the name on the cover. "Vincent McHale" she said out loud, as she typed the name in.

Merrill squinted. "Vincent McHale?"

Isabelle shrugged. "It's what it says."

Merrill raised an eyebrow. "Really? Not something like "Elliott, the Last Extra-Terrestrial?"

Isabelle glared at him. "This is not ET. I don't remember any scene in ET when aliens threw a little girl out of a window."

Merrill stared at her. "You think that's what it is?"

Isabelle held up a hand. "I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out."

Merrill shrugged. "ET 2: This Time, It's Personal."

Isabelle's lips twitched in a weak grin and Merrill felt a rush of relief that he'd triggered a smile at all.

Isabelle sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. "He's got a website!"

Merrill mimed cheering behind her as she clicked on the link. His pantomime came to an abrupt halt when Isabelle turned, slid her hands into his hair and brought her mouth to his for a moment.

It was a few seconds before either of them broke away and when Isabelle pulled back, Merrill felt a smirk flicker at his mouth at the brightness in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks. "What was that for?" he heard himself murmur, and she smiled.

"Nothing. Just wanted to do it." Isabelle stared at him for a second and for a moment, her eyes were darker, more serious. "I love you" she said, turning away before he could reply.

"He's got an email" she announced a few seconds later.

Merrill held up his hands in mock celebration. To his disappointment, it didn't provoke the same response.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "He hasn't written any other books."

"Maybe he was stranded in the furthest reaches of the galaxy."

Isabelle glared at him.

Merrill shrugged. "OK, OK."

Isabelle turned back to the screen. "After what happened tonight, I don't think we can joke about this anymore." With that, she double clicked on the email link and began to type.

Merrill frowned. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?"

"Emailing him."

"And what are you going to say? "Hi Vince, we think our niece might have been brainwashed by an alien race.""

Isabelle gave him a look that strongly suggested Merrill should fall silent. "No" she said, after a moment. "I'm going to ask if I can ask him some questions about his book."

"Good luck with getting an answer." Merrill turned, brushing her hair behind her ears absently as he did so. "You'll be lucky if he reads the freaking thing within a week."

Isabelle shrugged, and continued typing. "I've got to try something. You saw how bad Bo was earlier."

Merrill closed his eyes for a moment. Yes, he had seen how bad Bo was earlier and that was the reason he was trying to forget the whole thing. Every time he thought of the moment she'd fallen from the window, it made him feel like his stomach had twisted in two.

Isabelle was still typing. "She just-" Her voice trailed off and her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment. "She just-"

Merrill frowned and turned to look at her. "What?"

Isabelle was silent for another second and shook her head. "She just reminded me of someone."

Merrill was about to ask who but Isabelle had already returned to the keyboard and after a moment, he headed for the bedroom, the words echoing in the back of his mind, along with the nagging question of why he'd neglected to inquire any further.

It was fifteen minutes later when Isabelle bounded into the bedroom, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "He replied!"

Merrill, who had been taking a sip of water, spluttered. He'd been expecting Isabelle to tell him she'd just finished the freaking message, not that she'd sent it off, and got a reply.

He looked at her. "And? What did he say?"

Isabelle flung herself on the bed beneath his feet. "He said..there was stuff he could tell me, but it would have to be in person."

Every alarm bell in Merrill's head went off. "Wait? What?" He sat up, throwing the magazine aside. "You agreed...to meet a guy who believes in aliens...off the Internet...after you talked to him for ten minutes?"

Isabelle shook her head. "Not exactly."

Merrill closed his eyes. "You said we'd meet him, didn't you?"

Isabelle bit her lip and nodded.

Merrill glared at her. "I can't believe this."

Isabelle sighed. "Merrill, that was the only way you'd have been OK with it. Can you honestly tell me that if I'd told you I was going alone, you wouldn't have insisted on coming with me?"

Merrill shrugged. "Yeah, but-"

"So, you're coming anyway." Isabelle pushed her hands through her hair. "Merrill, I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't to help Bo."

Merrill exhaled and stared down at the bedspread for a long second. "Do you honestly think this will help Bo?"

Isabelle nodded. "Right now, I can't think of anything else that would."

Merrill swallowed. "OK. So...we're going to meet this guy...where and when?"

Isabelle avoided his eyes and Merrill let his face fall into his hands. "Tomorrow, right?"

Isabelle nodded. Merrill peered at her from between the gaps in his fingers. "Where?"

"At his house."

Merrill almost choked. "What?"

Isabelle shrugged. "I thought if it was on his terms, he might be more comfortable."

"Oh, yeah? And have more access to a shotgun? Isabelle-" There were so many things wrong with this plan, Merrill wasn't entirely sure where to start. "What if this guy's a maniac?"

"A maniac?"

"Yeah. A total freaking maniac. He writes books on aliens. What if he thinks he is one?" Merrill got up and started pacing the room, fingers knotting in his hair. "What if he lives in a cabin in the woods and eats squirrels or something?"

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "How about if we start treading on little skeletons on his garden path, we call the whole thing off?"

Merrill rolled his eyes. "Freaking hilarious."

Isabelle closed her eyes. "You'll be there."

"Two of us against Squirrel Man."

Isabelle opened her eyes. "Fine. I'll ask Hannah to come as well."

Merrill snorted. "Freaking wonderful. Why don't we ask Morgan and Devon along, make it a party?"

Isabelle opened her mouth-and then frowned. "That's not a bad idea, actually."

Merrill threw his head into his hands. "You can't be freaking serious."

"Merrill-" Isabelle sighed. "Graham's taking Bo to this emergency therapy meeting tomorrow. They've got to go alone. And he's not wild about the idea of Morgan and Devon being left alone, not with all the weird stuff going on at the minute."

Merrill scowled, eyebrows knotting together. "I think he'd be less freaking wild about the idea of them being chased with an axe."

Isabelle rolled her eyes, and Merrill, recalling arguments of recent weeks, held up his hands. "I'll go with you."

Isabelle's shoulders slumped with relief and he shook his head. "I'm still not thrilled about Morgan and Devon."

Isabelle looked away. "It's Morgan's book. Plus, I think he'd appreciate being included."

Merrill opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Devon?"

Isabelle shrugged. "He's always around. Plus, I think he likes us more than he likes Lionel."

Merrill frowned. Something about the statement triggered something, some vague memory but he struggled to hold onto the details and after a moment, let it slip away.

"I hope you know what you're doing" he said to Isabelle, instead, sinking back onto the pillows. "And I'm taking a bat."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure you won't need-"

"I'm taking one." If Merrill was walking into the house of a possible obsessive nut-case, he was going to be prepared for it.

Isabelle sighed and turned over, nestling her head against his hip. "Fine" she said, kissing him through his shirt. "If you want to walk in looking like a criminal, your choice." The sting of the words was lessened by the fact she was now working her way over his chest, kissing him through the material, until his breath was harsh in his throat, his heartbeat almost painful.

"I'm being careful" he argued, even as his hands slid into her hair and her thumb brushed his jaw line. His lips parted for a moment as her thumb danced across his mouth. "Seriously" he said, when he could breathe again. "It's nearly midnight. What type of nut-case is replying to email at nearly midnight?"

Isabelle frowned. "I was."

Merrill smirked. "Exactly."

Isabelle hit him with the pillow. Merrill's laughter echoed in her ears as she tilted her mouth to his, his lips moving with hers', their hearts pounding together, the only sound in the sudden silence, as she twined her arms around his shoulders, holding onto him, as if she could protect him from whatever was coming.

Devon Pritchard didn't think twice about insisting Graham Hess remain in the car, when he dropped him off, the same way he had every other time Graham had dropped him off at his home. And Graham had done the same thing he had every other time, which was nod at Devon to be careful, and then stay in the car, watching until he was sure Devon was safely inside. Devon would wave and duck into the house, closing the door as quickly as possible before Lionel could be roused by the noise.

But tonight, when Devon stepped into the hallway, his brother was waiting at the other end.

"Where have you been?"

Devon eyed his brother warily. Lionel's eyes were narrowed, his arms folded. A cigarette stuck out of his mouth as he leaned against the door frame.

Devon shrugged, trying for a careless look. "Out with a friend." Lionel was watching him closely, head tilted to the side.

"They dropped you home?"

Devon swallowed, but years of evasion had made him an expert. "Yeah, they offered" he said, half-turning toward the stairs. "Nice of them."

"Who was it?"

Devon froze, one foot on the bottom step.

"Who's your friend?"

Devon briefly considered lying, making some name up. But theirs was a small town; it would take Lionel about five minutes to find out the truth, if he was determined to do so or even believed himself to be genuinely interested, and Devon couldn't take the risk.

He stepped back into the hallway, so that his eyes were locked with Lionel's. "Morgan" he said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt.

Lionel blinked. "Morgan what?"

Devon closed his eyes. Goodbye, world.

"Morgan Hess."

It took a moment for the name to register with Lionel. He blinked for a second. "Morgan He-MORGAN HESS?"

Devon wondered what would happen to his possessions. He hoped his brother wouldn't smoke any leftover cigarettes after he'd finished burying Devon.

"Yeah, Morgan Hess" he said, as if this was a perfectly predictable turn of events. "So I'll just-"

Lionel appeared to be enduring some kind of asthma attack. Devon was briefly reminded of Morgan earlier that day.

"You're hanging out with Morgan Hess?"

"Yeah-" Devon nodded, striving to keep his face clear of anything resembling fear.

He waited for Lionel's explosion, even wondered if Lionel would throw something but the look on his brother's face was worse than that. It was a slow shake of the head, a curled lip as he looked at him.

"OK." Lionel held up his hands as he made his way towards Devon. "If you want to hang out with them, that's your lookout." He laughed, a sound without much humour. "Just don't get your hopes up, that's all."

Devon blinked. "What do you mean-" he said, before he could stop himself.

Lionel laughed again, for longer this time. "Look-" He held up his hands. "Dude-don't go hanging around the Hesses, OK? Don't go expecting anything."

Devon blinked again." What the hell do you mean, expect something?"

Lionel shook his head and Devon folded his arms. "What do you mean? What would I expect?"

Lionel closed his eyes and this time, his laugh was a lot quieter. "Dude. Just listen to me. Don't-" He held up his hands. "You're not like them, OK? You're not like them."

Devon frowned. "What do you-"

"Just that." Lionel tugged at the front door, grabbing his jacket off the hook nailed into the wall. "You're not like them, OK? You're not the same as them."

Devon swallowed. For some reason, the words felt like a punch in the chest. "Why-"

Lionel shook his head and turned to the door. "Hey, if you want to hang out with Hess, that's up to you" he said, in a voice laced with derision. "But just don't expect anything big, that's all."

And with that, he was out the door, Devon staring after him, his brow furrowed, wondering what the hell his brother thought he would expect from being friends with Morgan Hess.

"So" said Graham, frowning as he and Bo stood quietly by the car. "You and Merrill are-"

"Taking Morgan and Devon to the cinema" was Isabelle's prompt reply. "Hannah's coming, too. We thought it'd be good for them to get out."

Bo muttered something and Graham's gaze flickered to her. "What, sweetheart?"

Bo shook her head and looked away. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, before her gaze drifted, her attention lost the same way it had been ever since the previous evening.

Graham sighed and it was clear he wanted to inquire further but he and Bo were already later than they should have been. "Be back by five, OK?"

Isabelle nodded, her hand on Morgan's shoulder. Graham's eyes roamed to his son, where they remained. "Just-" He seemed to struggle for a moment. "Be good, OK?"

Morgan nodded, and his father's hand hovered for a moment before falling onto his shoulder. Morgan tried for a smile. "I'll be OK, Dad."

He glanced at Devon and the other boy gave him a quick smile but his eyes remained distant. Morgan frowned. Devon had arrived fairly promptly fifteen minutes after Morgan called to invite him over but he'd been remarkably quiet since his arrival, and now that Morgan glanced at him, he noticed that his friend's eyes were distant, arms folded over his chest.

Graham lifted Bo into the car and Isabelle waved at her niece over his shoulder. Bo didn't return the wave but did offer a small smile.

"We'll be home later" muttered Graham, closing the door so his daughter couldn't hear. "With whatever Elizabeth's decided we need to do."

Isabelle bit her lip. "What does she think's likely?"

Graham looked at her for a long moment, as though he was considering something. "We don't know yet" was the eventual reply and he stepped back towards the car as if ending the conversation. "I'll be home later."

Isabelle nodded and kept her eyes on her brother in law, as he climbed into the seat. "Good luck" she said, wondering just how much they would need it.

The group assembled on the driveway all waved as the car moved across the gravel, Bo's tiny face visible through the window. Isabelle kept waving as the car headed towards the gate, and she kept her eyes trained on the vehicle, even after she'd stopped waving, until the car was out of sight.

Then, she turned to the others. "Right" she said. "Hannah's going to be here in ten minutes. And then we're going."

"So, let's get this straight" Morgan said, an eyebrow arching as he spoke. "We're going-to see the author of this book-who happens to live an hour and a half away?"

Isabelle nodded. "Yep."

"We're not telling Dad about this."

Isabelle shook her head. "Nope."

"And-apparently-Hannah's coming too."

"Yep."

"And we're hoping to be there and back by the time Dad gets home with Bo."

Isabelle nodded. "Sounds about right."

Morgan glanced at Merrill. "Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?"

Merrill shook his head. "Not really. Bat's in the car."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "We're going to get arrested."

"You won't be saying that if he turns out to eat squirrels or something."

Morgan sniggered but Devon's eyes were still focused on the horizon. Morgan nudged him, stepping a little away from Isabelle and Merrill, who were now absorbed in a discussion of just how likely it was that the baseball bat would be necessary. "You OK?"

It seemed to take Devon a second to come out of his reverie. "Yeah. Just-" He pushed a hand through his hair. "Doesn't matter."

Morgan frowned. "Seriously?"

Devon nodded curtly, but Morgan noticed his fingers were interlocked, and he was tugging at one of his nails, as if unaware of his own actions. Morgan frowned. "You sure you're-"

"I'm fine" Devon interrupted, his voice harsher than Morgan expected. "So, can we just forget it?"

Morgan blinked but was saved the bother of replying by the car pulling up the driveway. Isabelle waved. "Hannah's here" she informed them, as if the car was invisible.

The engine ground to a halt and Hannah swung herself out. "OK" she said, arms folded, red hair tossed over her shoulder. "What the hell are we doing again?"

"Going to an author's house to ask him questions about the supernatural because we think it might have something to do with what's going on with my niece" Isabelle said in one breath, before anyone else could speak.

Hannah closed her eyes. "Most normal people would probably be heading to the cinema."

Isabelle smirked. "What dull lives they must lead."

It was in the car, sandwiched against the window and watching Isabelle and Merrill argue over which way was the correct way to the reclusive author's house that Hannah decided to ask Devon Pritchard what was up.

She nudged him. "Hey."

It took a moment for him to look at her. He was staring into space, lost in his own thoughts.

She nudged him. "Hey. Devon Pritchard. What's up?"

Devon looked at her. "Nothing. Just-" He tugged at a thumbnail with his teeth. "Tired."

Hannah frowned. Devon had been staring into space all morning, and she suspected there was distinctly more to it than just being tired.

"Your dad OK with you coming out with us? Or does he think you're heading to the cinema?"

For the briefest of moments, Devon tensed, but then said "Yeah, he's fine. And yeah, he thinks it's the cinema."

Next to him, Morgan frowned. He hadn't heard Devon mention his dad, even though he'd assumed Devon lived with him. In fact, he'd only heard Devon mention his brother.

"Lionel still lives with you and your parents?" he asked, forgetting about tact in his sudden interest.

Devon tensed again, more noticeably this time. "He lives with me and my dad. My mom's dead."

Morgan's jaw dropped. For some reason, he'd never enquired about Devon's mother. It had just never occurred to him.

"Seriously?" he said, and winced a second later, realising how utterly stupid the remark was. Hannah glared at him over Devon's head.

A smile tugged briefly at Devon's mouth and he nodded. "Yeah, seriously."

"Jeez." Morgan pushed a hand through his hair. "I-"

Isabelle had turned round to watch Devon over the back of the seat, her eyes fixed on the boy. "I'm sorry" she said, and she sounded sincere. "I didn't know."

Hannah nodded. "Me neither."

Merrill looked at him in the rearview mirror. "I'd say sorry too, but-" He indicated the window. "Driving."

Isabelle whacked him on the arm and Devon snorted. A grin tugged at Hannah's mouth.

"You sure you're OK?" she asked him, keeping her eyes on the younger boy's face.

Devon swallowed. "Lionel-" He let his voice trail off, but he figured he might as well tell them. "He knows I've been hanging out with you."

Morgan inhaled slowly. "Right."

"He's not mad" Devon added quickly, as though concerned for Morgan's feelings. "He didn't-" He hesitated. "He didn't really care."

"Really?" Morgan was watching Devon, head tilted suspiciously, as if this was too good to be true.

Devon nodded. "Really."

Morgan nodded too, but his eyes were still narrowed suspiciously. Devon leaned back in his seat and pushed a hand through his hair.

"What do you think's happening with Bo?" Isabelle's question cut through the silence and a second later, she winced, as though she wished she hadn't asked it.

Morgan snorted. "Probably biting the doctor."

Isabelle laughed but there was less humour than usual in the sound and Morgan turned back to staring out of the window, striving to keep his thoughts from drifting anywhere near his sister. It was easier to ignore what might be happening. It was easier to push it away, because that way it was that much easier to forget that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Bo stared at Elizabeth.

"Do you know why I need to speak to you, Bo?"

Bo kept her lips pressed together. She felt as if words were filling her throat, pushing against her mouth but she kept it closed.

Elizabeth looked at her. She could feel Daddy's eyes on her from the back of the room but she kept her eyes on Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was watching her. "Do you know?"

Bo knew the doctor needed an answer, but she wasn't going to speak. After a long, long moment she nodded.

The doctor looked at her. "Do you want to talk about what happened last night?"

Bo bit her lip and shook her head.

The doctor smiled at her, tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure?"

Bo nodded again, very fast.

"How about if we ask your daddy to go out of the room?"

"I don't want to." Bo's voice was louder than she herself expected, and she sensed rather than saw her father's flinch. However, apart from a tilt of the head to the side, Elizabeth didn't react.

"OK" she said, quietly. "But I need to ask you a few questions."

Bo swallowed.

Elizabeth tipped her head to the side, regarding her. "Bo, sometimes people have something inside their heads which makes them see things...things that aren't really there. Something which makes them think things are real which aren't."

Bo twisted her hands together in her lap.

Elizabeth watched her. "These things are called hallucinations" she said. "Sometimes, you can see them. Sometimes, you can only hear them. Sometimes, both."

Bo swallowed.

Elizabeth looked at her. "Bo" she said, her voice quieter now. "We think you might have something inside your head that makes you see or hear things that aren't really there."

Bo remembered Isabelle reading her a book when she was younger-or maybe it was Mommy, or maybe Mommy and Isabelle. It had a girl in it who saw things who weren't there. But nobody thought there was anything wrong with her-she had a gift and it made her able to fight things. It made her a superhero. Nobody made her sit in a doctor's office while everyone looked at her with worried eyes.

Elizabeth looked at her. "Do you think that could be right, Bo?"

Bo wondered where Isabelle was. She wished she and Uncle Merrill were here. She would have told them if she could but she didn't know. She didn't know if they were able to know.

"Do you think you see or hear things that aren't there?"

Bo wondered what Isabelle or Uncle Merrill would say if she told them, anyway.

"Bo?"

Bo looked up to see the doctor's eyes on her. Behind her, she sensed her father leaning forward in his chair, his eyes burning into her back. She wondered if a gaze could burn through your skin, into your head, to see the thoughts you kept hidden inside.

Bo looked back at the doctor. "If you can see something" she said, her voice clearer than she'd expected. "How can you know it isn't there?"

"And we're lost again, wonderful, we're lost again and this is the third time so far on this trip-"

Isabelle's running commentary made for amusing listening, in Hannah's opinion, though apparently, Merrill didn't share her viewpoint.

"Izzy, we're not lost. We just followed the wrong road."

"And if Merrill was happy to ask for directions, we'd probably find the right road a hell of a lot quicker-"

Morgan and Devon were openly sniggering now. Devon's eyes were brighter, his head tilted as he watched the argument taking place in the front seat. He'd cheered up hugely since the conversation about his mother.

"Izzy, I told you-" Merrill was staring at the map spread across his knees as if it might scream the answer at him. "We are going to get there fine-"

Something smacked into the windshield of the car.

Isabelle jumped, Morgan grabbed Devon's arm and Merrill swerved so hard the car nearly came off the road. Fortunately, the lanes ahead were clear.

"Jesus Christ." Merrill slammed his foot on the brake, bringing the car to a halt at the side of the road. He grabbed Isabelle's shoulder, eyes running over her quickly, before he turned to look briefly back at the others. "You OK?"

Isabelle nodded, turning to look at Morgan. "Are you?"

Everyone seemed to be in one piece, though Morgan needed to use his inhaler rather hastily. Merrill, shaking his head, climbed out of the car to discover the cause of the noise.

There was a dead bird caught on the bonnet.

Merrill rolled his eyes. "Jesus-"

Isabelle joined him at the side of the road and raised an eyebrow. "So much for weird stuff dying down." She flicked the bird away and turned back to the car where Morgan was already opening the door.

"Don't get out" she said, holding up a hand. "No point. Just another bird."

Morgan stilled in the act of opening the door; Hannah squinted through the glass in an effort to see more clearly. "Another one?"

Isabelle nodded, turning back to the car door. Her eyes darted around uneasily, and Hannah, watching her closely, suspected that she didn't want to be stopped in this area for any longer than necessary. "Come on, Merrill."

Merrill glanced around for another moment, then slowly climbed back into the car.

There was a dead silence as they drove off.

"I'm sure it's nothing" Hannah said, keeping her tone determinedly cheerful, in an attempt to lighten the rather heavy atmosphere. "I'm sure it's just a fluke or some-"

Her voice died in her throat as the car gained speed and her eye caught a grey object at the side of the road.

It was a dead bird. The first of many dead birds. They were sprinkled across the highway like grim confetti.

Morgan swallowed and slowly raised his inhaler to his lips again. Hannah saw Merrill, not taking his eyes off the road, slide his hand into Isabelle's for a moment, gripping her fingers for a second. Isabelle swallowed, and looked back at her friend.

For a moment, their eyes met and each saw the same expression on the other's face. And neither knew a thing to do to make it go away.

"Why do I have to be out of the room again?" Graham addressed the question to Elizabeth, with another glance at his daughter, who sat quietly out of earshot, her hands folded in her lap. He almost wished she'd turn and look at him, ask him what he was talking about. Instead, she merely sat, eyes staring straight ahead, locked in the same silence that had persisted the entire appointment.

"Because Bo may respond to questioning if she's alone differently to how she would respond in front of a parent or guardian" explained Elizabeth patiently, as if Graham hadn't asked the same question three times. "It's important to ensure that her answers are honest."

Graham raked a hand through his hair. "What if she gets upset?"

Elizabeth looked at him with something remarkably like sympathy in her eyes. "If she does, I'll call you in immediately. You'll be on the other side of the door. It's going to be OK."

Graham swallowed and as if on instinct, Elizabeth reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "It's going to be OK" she said quietly, and Graham wished he could believe her.

He turned to Bo. "I'll see you in a minute, sweetheart" he said and stooped to kiss her head. For a moment, her eyes flickered to his face and he hoped she'd say something back but instead, she just nodded vaguely, her gaze returning to the floor.

Graham stepped towards the doorway as Elizabeth watched him. "It'll be OK" she said. "Trust me."

Graham nodded, but remained where he was until the door closed. He stared at the wood for several seconds, wondering just what was happening on the other side.

"And we've arrived."

Looking out of the window, Merrill thought he'd never been less comforted by those words.

The house looked exactly the kind of place you'd expect a serial killer to live. Isolated, three storeys, and surrounded by fields. The last building they'd passed had been at least a mile back.

Merrill yanked out his cell phone and held it up, sticking his arm out of the car window. "No phone service. That's reassuring."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Merrill."

Morgan looked over his shoulder. "If he tries cutting us up or something, how far do we have to run to get help?"

Isabelle glared at him and Devon sniggered.

"Don't worry" Hannah muttered. "We've got Merrill's baseball bat for that."

Morgan snorted. "I thought it got broken."

"The new one" Isabelle pointed out. "And we're not going to need a baseball bat-"

"Don't bet on it" muttered Merrill, earning himself a quick tap on the arm from Isabelle.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "We'll be fine."

All climbed out of the car. Devon nudged Morgan, sniggering. "If we're not, you can have my cigarette lighter."

"Can't smoke." Morgan indicated his inhaler. "Remember?"

"Keep it as a memory, then."

"I'd remember you fondly."

Isabelle rolled her eyes at all of them over her shoulder. "Right." She looked from one face to the next. "I'm going first, then?"

Hannah beamed. "That's right." She winked. "Your idea."

Merrill, taking pity on her, stepped forward. "You can knock, though."

Isabelle rolled her eyes again and muttered something about "honestly" as she took a step forward. With one last glance at the others over her shoulder, she raised her hand and knocked once, smartly, on the door.

Bo stared up at the doctor, her legs swinging off the edge of the chair. "Where's my daddy?" she asked, the first words she'd said since she'd been alone with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Your daddy's fine, sweetheart. Don't worry." She smiled, a smile clearly designed to put Bo at ease, but which merely made her grip the edges of the chair more tightly than ever. She remembered the time Morgan had raced her down the driveway and he'd won, even when he'd skidded to a halt, pushing his inhaler between his lips, his face flushed. He'd beaten her by miles. What would happen if she needed to run now?

Elizabeth looked at her. "You know why your dad's worried about you, Bo?"

Bo nodded.

"He thinks you're seeing things that aren't there?"

Bo looked back at Elizabeth and kept her face carefully blank.

Elizabeth looked at Bo. "I think I know what's in your head" she said, and the words were slow and careful. "I think I know what it's like."

Bo didn't look away from her. She kept her lips pursed, her hands clenched tight on the edges of the chair.

Elizabeth leaned forward and looked closely at her. "Do you think I know what it's like?"

Bo dug her teeth into her bottom lip.

Elizabeth walked around her desk and perched on the edge, her legs swinging back and forth.

"Why do you think I know?"

Bo couldn't remember answering the doctor's question, so she had no idea why she would have known or not.

Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on hers' and after a moment, Bo asked the question hovering behind her lips. "Why?"

Elizabeth didn't look away once as she gave her answer. "Because I used to be just like you."

They stood outside the door for several more minutes, Isabelle's foot beginning to tap back and forth. "OK." She swallowed after a moment. "OK."

"He's not coming" Merrill said slowly, aware that he was stating the obvious.

Isabelle smiled. "Thanks, Merrill. Why don't you tell me I'm wearing clothes?"

Merrill held up his hands and she sighed. "Look, I'm sorry." She rapped on the door again.

Merrill took a look at Morgan, who'd stepped closer to him. "That serial killer thing's looking more and more likely."

Hannah looked around. "Who can get in front of us?"

Morgan looked up at Merrill, his face breaking into a grin. "That can be you."

Isabelle grinned, and then banged on the door again. "You did volunteer to bring that baseball bat."

Merrill had just opened his mouth to retort, when the front door slowly swung open.

The five of them simply stood in silence for a moment, before Hannah opened her mouth. "OK. Isn't this how it always starts in horror films?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Do we have any other choice but to go in?"

"Yeah" said Morgan. "We could just turn and walk away right now."

Isabelle turned and raised an eyebrow.

Morgan met her gaze. "But going in is more likely."

Bo kept her lips pressed together. She looked up at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was watching her quietly. "I used to hear things" she said softly. "And see things. And people thought there was something wrong with me, too."

Bo bit back the question hovering on her lips. Was there?

Elizabeth leaned down. "What do you think, Bo?"

Bo swallowed. She tightened her grip on the edge of the chair. "What do I think about what?" she said, her voice as small as she could get it.

She wasn't scared. She wasn't.

She was...testing.

Elizabeth looked back at her quietly. Her eyes were calm, except for something inside them, some small spark. "What do you think about me?"

Bo looked up. She considered the doctor in front of her, felt her eyebrows furrow.

"I think you're clever" she said quietly. "I think you're very clever."

"What else?"

Bo looked up at her. "What do you mean when you say you were like me?"

The ghost of a smile flickered at the edges of Elizabeth's mouth. "You talk a lot more when your daddy's not in the room."

Bo sat back in the chair. "He gets scared."

Elizabeth sat back on the desk.

"What about your brother? Does he get scared?"

Bo thought. She thought of Morgan's face, his eyes narrowed as he watched her. She thought of the bruises on his arms she could see and that he pretended weren't there, as though they'd vanish if he didn't think too much about them. "Sometimes" she said slowly. "But he pretends he doesn't."

"And we're in the hallway." Isabelle had stopped dead with Merrill already stepping in front of her.

"Let me go first" he said over his shoulder, to the others'. "In case there's something-"

There was a small noise from the top of the stairs and Isabelle was crossing to the bottom before Merrill could stop her.

"Izzy-" he hissed but before he could say any more, Isabelle was peering up the stairs.

"Mr. McHale?"

There was silence. Isabelle swallowed. She turned to look at the others. "Maybe it was the wind?"

Nobody answered her.

Morgan sidestepped Merrill, heading for the first doorway to the left before his uncle could grab him by the shoulder. "Hey" he said. "Look at this."

Isabelle followed him to the doorway with Devon hovering behind almost protectively. Merrill crossed the hallway, glancing behind him at Hannah.

She was moving to shut the door when Isabelle's voice echoed back. "Leave it open" she called, indicating the front door. "Just in case-"

Her voice trailed off but Merrill could hear the next words loud and clear. In case we need to make a quick escape.

Isabelle was standing dead still in the living room doorway, staring inside the room. "Guys, come and look at this."

Merrill took a step forward and stopped dead behind Isabelle. For a second, he thought he'd walked into a different house.

The walls were littered with sheets of paper. Sheets and sheets with different symbols and words scattered over each one. What looked like maps of the world covered one wall and torn out pages from books were pinned all over another. Sheets still covered the floor, stacked in various piles, as if the collector had had some organizing system. The desk was almost invisible, covered with heavy books and more piles of paper.

Merrill swallowed. "OK, he definitely needed to get out more."

"What the hell is all this?" Hannah was peering around the room, her eyes darting back and forth. "The freaking library has nothing on this."

Devon was staring at the individual pieces of paper, his eyes narrowed. He turned to look at Morgan. "It's about something."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we got that, Devon. What's it about?"

Devon pointed and Morgan leaned over his friend's shoulder to see for himself, followed by Isabelle.

From where he was standing, Merrill couldn't see what the paper said but he saw the exact moment his girlfriend and nephew's eyes widened.

"What?" he said, and he and Devon shared a quick glance.

Isabelle looked at Merrill and in a glance, he was stepping over to her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. She was staring at him with her teeth digging into her bottom lip, her hands clenched at her sleeves.

"What is it?" he said, and his hands came up to hold her arms. "Izzy, what is it?"

Isabelle swallowed as she said one word. "Demons."

Merrill blinked. "What?"

Isabelle opened her mouth but whatever she was about to say was cut off by Hannah's voice. "Hey, guys?" Her voice was thinner than usual, uncertain. "You might want to see this."

Isabelle crossed the room, holding out a hand. Hannah was holding a piece of paper, one that she was now passing to Isabelle, who pushed the hair back off her face as her eyes roamed over the image.

Her brows were creased together. "What the hell?"

"Let's see" said Morgan and he stepped round to his aunt's side to examine the image more closely.

His mouth dropped open. "I've seen this" he said. "It's in my book at home."

Isabelle stared at him as Morgan lifted his head and met her gaze. "But...the number of figures has changed."

Isabelle stared for a moment and Merrill and Devon exchanged confused looks as each stepped forward. "Izzy-"

"In the book, it's three" said Morgan. "Now it's five."

Isabelle turned the paper round to show Merrill.

The drawing was of a house. It was of a house Merrill recognized. It was Graham's house.

There was a spaceship hovering at the corner of the page, half out of the picture. A giant ray was blasting at the ground, looking for all the world as if it could incinerate anything in its' path.

But the weirdest part was the five small black figures, lying, scattered on the ground like dolls, right in the centre of the ray's path.

"OK" said Merrill slowly. He felt his fingers slip on the baseball bat and tightened his grip. "OK, what the hell is that supposed to be?"

But he didn't get an answer. His words were interrupted by a creaking noise from upstairs. They all froze, looking upwards.

"Mr. McHale?" Isabelle called for the second time.

There was a short silence. Merrill's hand closed over her arm and she didn't pull away.

There was a series of small creaks-and then, quite suddenly, a resounding crash.

Bo looked at Elizabeth. "Who did you tell?"

Elizabeth met her gaze and when she spoke, her voice was very soft. "I didn't tell anybody."

Bo kept her eyes on the woman's face. She kept herself as still as possible. The first few weeks after her mother died, Bo had sometimes clenched her fists and lain as still as possible in her bed, with her head pressed into the pillow, where she couldn't hear Morgan crying, where she couldn't hear Uncle Merrill telling her father he had to eat, he had to keep going, he had to not fall apart. She had pressed her head as deep into the pillow as possible and remained as still as she could, her hands clenched tightly on the sheets, because then she'd disappear into them forever.

Elizabeth met her gaze. "I didn't tell anybody for years" she says quietly. "And then I told my parents when I was thirteen-a little older than your brother-and they sent me to a counsellor. And I could tell they thought I was crazy and so I told them what they wanted to hear."

Bo waited but Elizabeth didn't speak for a few moments, and the little girl swallowed.

"I told them that it wasn't true" said Elizabeth and her voice remained perfectly calm the whole time. "I told them that it wasn't true, that I must have imagined the whole thing. I agreed with them when they said it was hallucinations. And then they left me alone."

Bo swallowed. She wanted to ask Did they stay away? but her voice had stopped working.

"The thing is" said Elizabeth and she was watching Bo carefully. "I knew that what I'd told them wasn't the truth. It was just what they wanted to hear."

Bo stayed as quiet as she possibly could, so that Elizabeth wouldn't ask her anything.

Elizabeth looked at her. "But the thing is, I know." She leaned closer. "I know what it's like to keep things secret."

Bo's gaze flickered upwards and Elizabeth swallowed. "So why don't you tell me about these things you've been seeing?"

Bo bit her lip and what came out of her mouth was entirely different from what she'd expected. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Elizabeth looked back at her. "Because" she said. "Of what happened last time."

It was Hannah who reached the stairs first, closely followed by Merrill and Isabelle. Morgan and Devon followed, but Isabelle shook her head. "No, stay there, just stay there-"

"We're coming-"

"No, stay there, right there-" Isabelle was already halfway up the stairs, and she and Merrill disappeared round the corner, following Hannah. Morgan and Devon exchanged a quick glance.

"You staying?" asked Devon.

"Nope." Morgan was already heading up the stairs after the others, and Devon followed a second later, watching Morgan's hand slide into his pocket to reach for the inhaler.

"Isabelle?" Morgan reached the top step first and rounded the corner, Devon a step behind. "Uncle Merrill?"

He took the corridor at a sprint, his eyes darting from room to room and spotting a movement in the room at the end, quickened his pace. "Isabelle?"

It was a second before he heard a scream and the door slammed shut. Morgan's heart threw itself against his ribs and his hands slammed into the wood, sending streaks of pain up his arms. "Isabelle?" he yelled, ignoring the fact his arms felt as though they had both been snapped in two. "Uncle Merrill?"

It was Devon who pushed Morgan out of the way, lifting his foot and slamming it into the wood near the knob. Morgan watched, as Devon's foot splintered the wood around the handle, but even as Devon lowered it and then turned for another go, the handle turned and the door opened once again. This time, both Morgan and Devon threw their full weight against it before it could close.

The two both fell into the room, with Morgan managing to regain his balance, at the last moment. Devon, however, wasn't so lucky-his hands flew out in front of him, managing to protect his face as he pitched onto the floor, the momentum of the entrance propelling him forward. Morgan didn't have time to waste more than a moment on this sight, however, turning to stare at the rest of the room, thoroughly expecting to see a bloodbath occurring.

To his great surprise, Isabelle, Merrill and Hannah were all standing stock still in utter silence. Merrill's hand was on Isabelle's arm, and Morgan could see his uncle's face was pale, almost white.

"Uncle Merrill?" Behind him, Devon was getting to his feet. Now that Morgan could see the room clearly, as he bent down to help Devon up, he could see that the wallpaper was peeling, the floorboards were coated with dust-clearly the room had remained unoccupied for a while. Isabelle, Merrill and Devon appeared to be standing at the end of a bed.

"Uncle Merrill?"

Morgan took a step forward; later, he would reflect that usually, Merrill or Isabelle would have moved to stop him from coming any closer, or to cover his eyes. But this seemed to be the one time that they were as stunned into silence as him and the result was that he stepped round Isabelle's arm, and saw exactly what had caused the scream.

Vincent McHale, if that was indeed who he was, was quite clearly dead. That wasn't the worst thing Morgan could see. The worst thing was the fact that his neck was splattered with blood, as was his shirt, where his throat had quite clearly been slit open.

But worse than that was the way half of his face seemed to have been peeled away, skin hanging in tatters that left the blood and veins underneath clear to see, along with several gaping holes which left the bone clearly exposed, where the skin had simply rotted away.

That was as much as Morgan saw before his knees buckled beneath him and he felt the taste of bile in his throat. He sank to his knees, his stomach twisting inside him, contorting until he retched, acid burning his throat as he vomited onto the floor, shooting pains stabbing through his stomach.

It was then that Isabelle turned towards him, her hands grabbing his shoulders. "Morgan-" Her voice cracked halfway through his name, the fingers biting into his skin. "Morgan, God, are you OK-"

It wasn't only Isabelle's hands that were holding him. There was a hand rubbing comforting circles in the centre of his back and for a second he glanced automatically towards his uncle. But Merrill was standing several inches away from him, a hand stretching towards him. It was Devon Pritchard who stood behind him, his hand pressed into his back, his eyes on Morgan's face.

"You OK?"

Morgan's cheeks flamed but he felt too ill to feel truly embarrassed. Instead, he simply nodded, and it was Isabelle and Merrill who helped him to his feet.

"We need to go" said Merrill and his voice was wavering and uncertain, not like Merrill's at all. "We need to go now." His hand fastened on Morgan's arm, his other hand on Isabelle's. He glanced briefly at Devon. "You OK?"

Following his uncle's gaze, Morgan's eyes widened. Devon was still standing but his eyes were fixed on the corpse on the bed, and his hands were clenching and unclenching as though longing to find something to hold onto.

"Devon?" It was Morgan who laid his hand on his friend's wrist a second later, and it took a second for Devon to turn to look at him. "Devon, come on."

"Hannah?" Isabelle took a step towards her own friend. "Hannah-"

But Hannah looked worse than Devon. In fact, she was standing stone still, her eyes still fixed on the bed, wide and horror-struck.

"Hannah-" Isabelle pulled away from Merrill, her hand fastening around her friend's arm. "Come on-"

But as Isabelle's hand made contact with her friend's sleeve, there was a strange vibration through the whole house-almost as if something had given it a shake from its' very foundations.

Isabelle spun, her eyes wide. "What the hell was-"

But her question never received an answer, for seconds later, the house shook again-this time, with a river of dust descending from the ceiling to land between them, dotting the floor. Something seemed to crawl down Morgan's spine, a shiver of something, something dark.

Merrill's hand had seized hold of Isabelle's. "We've got to go."

"Hannah!" It was then that Isabelle reached forward and yanked Hannah by the arm, dragging her backwards so that her friend nearly stumbled. It took a second for Morgan to realize his aunt's face was contorted with pain.

But before he could ask what was wrong, the house shook again and this time a crack appeared down the middle of one wall.

"Come on!"

This time, Hannah moved with them and the five of them headed for the doorway, Merrill standing back to let the others through first. Morgan and Devon half-fell through the door, and Morgan felt the stairs shudder under his feet as his hand skidded against the banister, Devon almost crashing into him. Isabelle and Hannah were ahead and Merrill behind them, when the door to the small front room burst open and papers filled the hall. Hannah cried out and for a moment, Morgan thought she had slipped-but then his gaze focused on her and he realised her fingers had simply closed around a loose sheet, holding it close to her chest. Isabelle's hands had reached out and caught a couple of papers as well, which she held tightly.

"Come on-" It was Merrill who headed past Morgan and Devon, grabbing at the front door handle, and ramming it with his shoulder when it didn't move. "For God's sake-"

"Merrill-" Isabelle fought her way through the tide of papers to stand next to her boyfriend. "It opens inwards-"

"What?"

"It opens inwards-"

Isabelle and Merrill both tugged at the same moment and the door flew open, almost hitting Hannah in the face-however, she darted through under Isabelle and Merrill's arms, followed closely by Morgan and Devon. Merrill was the last through and took the liberty of slamming the door behind him.

It wasn't just the house that was shaking. The ground itself seemed to be trembling beneath their feet and briefly, Morgan thought of earthquakes, tremors-logical reasons for the world to be moving. But something about this didn't feel logical. There was something dark pulsing underneath it, something pushing insidiously at the edges of Morgan's mind-something that seemed to slither through his fingers every time he tried to get a firm grasp on it, but an idea that lurked in the creases of his brain, where he couldn't quite get rid of it.

They all pelted towards the car, Morgan throwing his arms over his head in case of falling rocks. He, Devon and Hannah had thrown themselves at the back doors and Isabelle and Merrill were tugging at the front door handles. "It won't open!" Isabelle yelled and Merrill resorted to slamming his fist into the door over and over again, as though that might persuade the vehicle to unlock. "Come on-"

And it was then that Morgan saw the figure over his shoulder in the glass.

"Uncle Merrill-" His mouth was already open when the handle moved and Merrill pulled at the door; it swung open, as did Morgan's, and all five of them scrambled into the car, five figures crumpled, their arms wrapped around each other, pulling themselves inside, slamming the doors shut behind them.

Morgan slumped in his seat, already yanking at his belt-only for the world to come to a sudden stop around them. In the front seat, Isabelle and Merrill were staring around, both of their eyes wide.

The world had stopped shaking, stopped moving. The area looked calm, peaceful, ordinary-for all the world as if nothing had happened at all.

It was a long time before anybody spoke. Morgan, to Isabelle, looked as if he might never speak again.

"OK, it was a bad idea" she said, after a moment.

Merrill, clinging to the wheel, slowly turned his head to stare at her. "A bad idea?" he said, very slowly. "A bad idea?"

Isabelle looked at him. "OK, slightly worse."

Merrill muttered something inaudible and turned to stare through the windshield.

Hannah was shivering. "What was that?" she whispered, her arms wrapped around herself. "What was that?"

It was Devon who answered. "A demon?"

Morgan turned to give Devon a look of contempt. "Seriously? A demon?"

Merrill was still staring at the road ahead of him, his mouth moving frantically. Isabelle leaned over and her hand brushed his arm.

He jumped, a violent lurch of his whole body and Isabelle leaned back. Merrill was gasping for breath, his eyes wide.

Isabelle stared at him. "Merrill?" She leaned closer. "Merrill, I'm sorry-"

"Don't-" He held out his hand. "I just-" He exhaled, his fingers opening and closing on the wheel. "I just can't-"

Isabelle stared at him and Morgan felt his eyes flicker between his aunt and uncle. But neither of them said anything and he felt himself sink back into his seat, raising his inhaler to his lips, his heart still beating painfully fast. It was Devon who wrapped his fingers around his wrist and squeezed, and it took a second for Hannah to do the same to his right shoulder. Even so, it was several minutes before Morgan's heart stopped racing and it took longer before he could stop looking over his shoulder, eyes frantically scanning the empty road behind him.

It wasn't until Isabelle and Merrill reached home-they had been greeted by Graham and an ominously silent Bo and had chattered over-brightly about the movie, unable to speak more openly in front of Graham-that the dam broke. Hannah had driven home with Isabelle murmuring a promise to call her later and Isabelle had watched Merrill's face the entire drive home, taking in the tight-lipped expression, as he clutched the wheel in a stony silence.

It wasn't until they stepped inside the apartment that she turned and slid her hand into his.

"OK, I know you're mad."

Merrill raised an eyebrow. "Mad?" he said, and his voice was low, far lower than Isabelle had expected, and she closed her eyes, knowing it was worse than she'd thought. "You almost got me killed. You could have got all of us killed-"

Isabelle stared at him. "You think I knew that was going to happen?"

Merrill threw up his hands. "I tried to tell you, Izzy. I tried telling you, I tried telling you what would happen-"

"I just wanted to help! I just want to know what the hell's going on with Bo-"

"Oh, I know what's going on. There's a freaking dead guy back there, that's what's going on-that's what's happening, there's a dead guy there, and we haven't freaking told anyone, and I don't know what's happening and I don't know what to do, and-" His voice had risen and his eyes stared into hers', his hands rising to her shoulders. "I told you, I told you we shouldn't-"

Isabelle yanked away from him. "Oh, thanks, Merrill. Thanks a lot. You know, like I don't feel bad enough-"

"You should feel bad!" Merrill was staring at him, his jaw clenched. "You should feel bad! You put everyone in danger-"

Isabelle folded her arms. "Thanks, Merrill."

"No-" Merril dragged his fingers through his hair. "I didn't mean it like that, Izzy-"

"How did you mean it, then?"

"I don't know how I meant it, I just-Jesus, Izzy, we could have died-"

"I know, OK?" And Izzy's hands were covering her face now. "I know and I'm sorry, and please, don't do this all over again, because I can't just go through all this fighting with you again and I just want you to be here, and I'm scared and-" She fell into Merrill's chest, and his arms slid around her, his own eyes closing, and his lips nuzzling her hair.

"Izzy-" He kissed her head. "I'm sorry, Izzy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" He was stroking her back now, one hand tangled in her hair. "Izzy, it's OK, it's OK, come here, sweetheart, it's OK-"

"No, I'm sorry." Izzy was leaning against his chest, her head nestled under his chin. "You were right, it was stupid, I shouldn't have done it-"

"Shhh-" Merrill kept his arms around her shoulders, his fingers clenching around the edge of the fabric. "Shh, it's OK, I've got you, it's OK-"

It took a few minutes for Isabelle to pull her face back from his shirt. "What are we going to do?" she asks. "What are we going to do, now?"

Merrill shook his head. "I don't know" he whispered, but he kept her held tight against him. "I don't know, Izzy." But he held tight to her and she held tight to him and neither of them let go.

Lying in bed that night, Bo stared up at her father who was leaning against the door frame, his eyes trained on her face. "Did things go OK today with Elizabeth?"

Bo turned her face away so she stared at the wall. But she knew her father would want an answer, so she gave a quiet reply of "Yes."

Her father stood silently behind her and Bo realised that that hadn't been enough. So she added "I'm OK, Daddy."

Even though she could not see him, she knew her father was nodding. "That's good, baby." It took a second before she felt him stoop and kiss her head. "You OK, sweetheart?"

Bo pressed her lips together and nodded.

"Good." It took another few moments but slowly, her father retreated from the room. Bo kept her eyes firmly on the window until she was sure he was gone.

She kept staring at the stars. Mommy had told her when she was little that she believed that you could see the people you'd lost in the stars-that their souls were up there, somewhere. After Mommy had died, Bo had spent night after night staring at the stars, trying to make out her mother's face, but so far she had seen nothing.

Still. that never stopped her from trying. And tonight, she lay still, stared out of the window and tried again.

It was Merrill who made the anonymous phone call, from a phone box two streets away, and it was he who confronted a worried Mrs. Longdon when he returned to the apartment building. "What's wrong, Mrs. Longdon?"

She shook her head. "The birds" she whispered and Merrill felt his heart plummet. "There are some dead birds outside."

"Where, Mrs. Longdon?" he asked, while wondering how best to keep Isabelle from catching a glimpse of them. He swallowed at the thought of the birds sprinkled on the road today, a little journey of corpses which he suspected had been pretty much nothing compared to what awaited them.

"Outside at the back." He hoped she wouldn't try arming herself with a shotgun again. Somehow, he didn't think he wanted to be awoken to find she'd blasted some poor visitor's brains out.

He had only taken a few steps into the yard when he heard his name being called and several seconds later, Isabelle appeared, shrugging her way into a jacket. "I heard your car pull up" she said, by way of explanation and then came to a stop. "Jesus, what the hell?"

There was a littering of bird corpses about the yard-all simply lying on their sides, for all the world as if they had dropped out of the sky. Merrill closed his eyes for a moment, a pang of nausea twisting his stomach. He kicked one to the side and sent another to the same place. Isabelle followed suit, doing the same as the last rays of sunset slanted across the sky.

"Will they find the body?" she asked, her eyes flickering nervously to Merrill's face.

"Yeah" said Merrill, using the toe of his shoe to dispose of a particularly stubborn corpse. "I just hope they don't assume the guy who phoned in the tip is the guilty one."

Isabelle shook her head. "They wouldn't automatically assume that. They wouldn't." However, the words did not carry much conviction, and she wondered how ironic it was that being accused of murder could be the least of their problems.

Merrill watched her for a moment. "How the hell do we explain all this?" he asked, indicating the small pile of corpses with his head. "I mean, how?"

Isabelle wished for an answer but simply shook her head. Instead, she bent over and, aware of Mrs. Longdon's anxious gaze watching them from the window, bent over to help Merrill shuffle the little corpses into one small pile.

It was in the middle of the night that Bo heard the whispers.

She sat up straight in bed and let her fingers close around the edges of the bedcovers. She stayed as still as possible and she closed her eyes and let the whispers fill her head.

It took a while-a while of sitting quietly and waiting for her to hear the whispers more clearly. She remembered her mother's voice-Just be patient, Bo when she had wanted an ice cream and the line hadn't been moving quickly enough. Just try to wait quietly.

And Bo did. She curled up in her blankets, and let the voices pull and poke at her ears, and she let the words whisper inside her brain.

And when it was over and they had gone, she knew what she had to do.

"So" said Devon, as they stepped off the bus on Monday morning. "Just a typical, average weekend then."

Morgan swallowed. Ever since Saturday, his sleep had been punctuated by flashes of a body lying with it's throat hanging open, and his chest had begun tightening almost every hour, which had left him near-constantly reaching for his inhaler. He supposed that Isabelle, Merrill and Hannah were experiencing much the same thing-but at least they had each other to talk to. Morgan had spent the previous day stuck in a house with his father and sister, struggling to pretend that everything was perfectly normal, and he was glad that with Devon at least, he didn't have to pretend.

"Sounds like it" he said, only to have something slam into his shoulder.

"Morning, Hess."

Morgan came to a slow stop. He recognized Lucas' voice. He recognized it and he waited for the thrill of fear that would usually follow the older boy's words-but it didn't come.

Devon had come to a stop with a roll of the eyes and slowly turned around to face Lucas. "Why don't you just go and chew off your leg or something?" was his response, apparently taking Morgan's lack of reaction as a sign of intimidation.

Lucas snorted with laughter. His friends did too, apparently functioning at the same level of individual thought as your average single-cell amoeba.

"Shut up, Pritchard" was his response with a shove into Devon's chest.

Devon's fists clenched at his sides and he took a step forward. "Why don't you shut up, you-"

But he was interrupted by Morgan's fist flying into the centre of Lucas's face.

Devon had never witnessed someone's face entirely disappear before but that was a pretty near description to what occurred. Lucas's face seemed to vanish for a moment, almost entirely obscured by blood, and Morgan's hand fell to his side, knuckles damp with red.

Lucas stared at Morgan, his mouth hanging open, his hand still raised stupidly in the air. "What-what-" Devon thought that rather accurately summed up the situation.

It perhaps summed the situation up still better when Morgan ploughed straight in again with the other fist, but by that point, Devon was in the middle of a full-fledged fight.

It took several minutes and three teacher aides to pull them apart. Devon thought himself being dragged to the principal's office was rather unfair as, as he struggled to explain numerous times, he had simply been trying to help out a friend. The school officials did not seem to see it that way, however, and the next thing Devon knew, all of their parents were being called.

He took a look at Morgan who was seated beside him in the office, sporting a swollen lip and the beginnings of a black eye. The nurse had rather unsympathetically tried mopping them up but had had little success, and indeed, Devon had to admit that the others looked a lot worse than them.

"You going to tell me what the hell that was about, Hess?"

Morgan sighed and looked up at him. It was a strange look-one that Devon wasn't used to seeing on Morgan's face.

"I just thought it was pretty stupid" said Morgan, rather patiently for one who had just sustained several punches to the face. "To be scared to punch that guy after what we saw on Saturday."

Devon's eyes narrowed. "OK, spare me the after school special crap. How the hell did you get up the nerve to slam your fist into that prick's face?"

Morgan sighed. "I just told you."

Devon shook his head. "No" he said. "No freaking way, Hess."

Morgan looked at him. "I'm telling you" he said and there was a bite of impatience in his voice now. "It just happened. I don't know how or why. It was just like something-I don't know-snapped." He shook his head. "Not the right word. Clicked. That's it. Clicked. Like something clicked into place."

Devon raised a disbelieving eyebrow and opened his mouth but it was at that moment, the door opened and the face of Graham Hess appeared, his eyebrows knotted at the sight of his son sitting on a chair, with bruised and bloody knuckles, and a strangely calm expression.

"Morgan" he said. He inclined his head. "Devon" he said, after a moment.

Devon raised a hand. "Hey."

Graham sighed and folded his arms. "Morgan" he said. "Would you mind explaining what's going on?"

"So-" It took Isabelle a moment to conjure words as she sank down next to Hannah in the library. She expected that there wasn't really much protocol for "I hope you had a good time discovering a murdered corpse."

Hannah raised her head and looked at her. Isabelle felt a rush of relief that she at least looked vaguely OK-she was pale and there were shadows under her eyes, though Isabelle wasn't sure if that was tiredness, stress or just smudged eye make-up-but aside from that, she looked remarkably like her usual self.

"So?" Hannah made a small attempt at a smile. "Anyone been eaten by aliens yet?"

Isabelle's lips twitched. "Ha ha." She sat down next to her friend, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Seriously, you OK?"

Hannah nodded, slowly. "It was on the news?"

Isabelle's head snapped up. "What?"

Hannah nodded. "Vincent McHale. It was on the news that his body had been found."

Isabelle leaned her head on her hands. "Brilliant. We haven't switched the freaking TV on once. I think Merrill'd happily throw it out the window."

Hannah looked at her. "What do we do now?" she said, aware that it was a rather pointless question. "I mean, what do we do with the fact that there's-" She lowered her voice. "A dead guy that we could be connected to, weird shit happening everywhere-"

Isabelle sighed. "I've got absolutely no idea."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Holmes, I was lost before you turned up."

Isabelle's eyebrow arched. "Very fun-" Her words trailed away as her eyes fell on the opposite window.

"What's up?" Hannah glanced around. "The real Holmes hasn't just walked in, has he?"

Isabelle pointed. "Take a look at that."

Hannah turned and her eyes widened. Outside the window, there was a definite formation of clouds moving across the sky, far more rapidly than usual.

"So?" she said, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her apparent calm. "It's just clouds."

At that moment, a fork of lightning split the sky in two and there was a clap of thunder that led Isabelle to wonder if the roof was about to fall in. She and Hannah weren't the only ones staring out of the window now.

Hannah turned to look at Isabelle. Her friend's fingers were tapping back and forth-tapping back and forth in a worryingly familiar rhythm.

Her hand flew out to cover Isabelle's. "Iz" she said. "Don't."

Isabelle's mouth opened and at that moment, every light in the library flickered and then went out, plunging the room into darkness.

"We're still trying to get to the bottom of it" said the principal, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands as though that might help him come to a decision more quickly.

Morgan and Devon exchanged glances. Graham was seated between them, leaning his forehead on his hands. Dealing with school fights was a first.

"Morgan" he said, after a moment. "Can you explain-" He fixed his son with a glare. "Exactly why you punched another boy in the face?"

Morgan suspected his father wouldn't have been quite so humiliated if he hadn't been wearing his dog collar.

But he couldn't fully explain the situation, not without dragging up everything about Lucas, and he had an inkling that that would be akin to signing his own death warrant so he simply shrugged and said "He was winding me up." He couldn't explain the other part of it-the strange detached feeling that had filled him, the way he simply hadn't hesitated before pulling his fist back exactly the way Devon had shown him. He had a feeling it wouldn't be wise to try and explain that part of it when he didn't even fully understand it himself.

"Morgan." Graham Hess exhaled. "Can you tell me why-"

His words were cut off by a sudden boom of thunder and the lights flickered ominously. Devon glanced up at the ceiling, as did the principal, blinking worriedly. Morgan wondered if this was in the handbook for teachers. How to deal with weird supernatural storms. Maybe there should be an amendment.

"Curious" muttered the principal. "Now, if we could get back to the matter-"

Another fork of lightning slashed across the sky, throwing everyone's faces into sharp relief, as the lights above died. At the exact moment of brief illumination, the door opened and Morgan turned to see, in possibly the most appropriate moment, Lionel Pritchard standing in the doorway.

"You called?" was his line of introduction as he stepped inside. Morgan saw Devon roll his eyes and slouch further down in his seat.

Graham swallowed. "Hello, Lionel."

Lionel raised an idle hand. "Father." The word was curled with an edge of sarcasm, his eyes falling on Devon.

The principal gestured to a seat. "Please be seated, Mr. Pritchard. Now, we were just about to discuss-"

But Lionel was already looking at Devon. "Look-" He jabbed his brother in the shoulder. "I've got work to get to, so what the hell is this about?"

The principal swallowed and Morgan fought the urge to roll his own eyes. From the look his father was giving him, he didn't think that would be a particularly welcome gesture.

"Well, ah-" The principal folded his hands again. Morgan spotted Devon doing exactly the same thing in his own lap. His lips twitched and he lowered his eyes, pressing them into a straight line to keep them still.

"Your brother and this young man-" Morgan fought the impulse to wave sarcastically at Lionel. "Have been involved in an altercation with an eighth-grade student-" The principal drew his eyebrows together. "Who is currently in the nurse's office."

Lionel Pritchard arched an eyebrow. "Damn, Hess" he said softly. "Eighth grade, huh?"

"Held back, actually" muttered Devon. "Third time round."

Lionel's eyebrows travelled higher. "He's beating my record."

"The crux of the matter is-" the principal pressed on, now leaning back and folding his arms and both Lionel and Devon immediately did the same thing. Morgan looked away now, fighting to keep his face clear of any emotion.

"This attack appears to have been unprovoked but we are, however, aware of this other student's-" The principal appeared to be at a loss to proceed. "Disposition" he eventually settled on, drawing the word slowly out through his lips. "And though we have to follow protocol, in this student's case, we are aware that he can be-provoking-"

Devon snorted. "That's one word for it."

"Shut up, Devon-" This from Lionel, who had shoved his brother in the shoulder.

"Yes, well-" The principal appeared at a loss at what to say next. "I think we should postpone discussing this incident until all the affected parties and their guardians are able to be present. Obviously, that is not the case currently-"

"Does prison not allow school visits?" was Morgan's muttered remark and both Devon and Lionel cast him appraising looks.

"Morgan" was his father's muttered remark.

"Damn, Hess" muttered Devon, an eyebrow quirking at his friend's tone.

The principal's eyes narrowed and he clasped his hands together again. Devon immediately did the same thing. Morgan wondered if he was going to have to fake a coughing fit.

It was at that moment that another fork of lightning appeared in the sky and the lights flickered once again. The principal's grip on his desk tightened. "So, in the meantime, we have no option but to suspend both boys for fighting-"

"I think you should reconsider-" interjected Graham but Lionel was already upright.

"Bullshit. You don't even know what happened yet."

The principal blinked several times, as if he had just been hit with a heavy object and hadn't realised it yet. "I-well-I-"

"You just want to look like you're doing something" sneered Lionel and Morgan found himself inwardly agreeing.

"Lionel-" muttered Devon, whose cheeks had flushed scarlet.

"Mr. Pritchard-"

Graham was also on his feet now. "Lionel, we-"

And then there was a crash of thunder and the lights went out.

There was a moment of confused silence, before there was a rumble of noise from the corridors, intermingled with girls screams. For a moment, Morgan wondered what could be so scary about darkness, then realised it was impossible to see, even when he stretched his own hand in front of his face. For a moment, there was a hammer wedged under a doorknob and his uncle was twiddling with a radio knob and Morgan had to shake his head, his fingers closing around his inhaler, pulling himself back out of the basement.

"Holy-" Morgan had never heard a teacher curse but he was pretty sure the principal was coming close. He heard rather than saw the man stumble around the desk to the window. "What on earth-"

He tugged at the shade, but rather than the expected ray of light filtering into the room, there was nothing. At first, Morgan thought the world outside was black too, but after a few seconds, he realised he could make out his father's features and Devon's hands in the darkness-just barely.

"It should be brighter than that" said Graham, now moving to the window. Lionel apparently shared this sentiment, following him with a murmured "What the hell-"

There was a flicker of bright orange and Devon raised what Morgan realised quickly was a cigarette lighter. The principal's chest swelled indignantly. "Put that out at once!"

"Oh, relax" muttered Devon, pushing his hand through his hair. "It's a freaking emergency, just tell the board that."

The principal's mouth opened but Devon used the lighter to illuminate the path in front of his feet, grabbing Morgan's wrist to pull him behind him. It was when they reached the window that Morgan saw what had elicited the surprise, what was presumably prompting the screams from the classrooms.

The sky outside, which when they entered the school that morning had been a dull overcast grey, was now almost pitch black-a colour Morgan associated with winter nights. Overhead, there was a swirl of ominous clouds-almost like a hurricane. Morgan felt Devon stiffen next to him, and together they watched as a flash of lightning lit up the world for a brief moment. It was then they saw the surrounding buildings-every square of window black, everywhere in the near vicinity thrown into darkness.

The other children were screaming. The teacher was telling them all to calm down. She was standing with her hands in the air. Bo was sitting still. She knew she didn't need to be scared. They wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. She knew that. They'd told her.

She stared up at the teacher and remembered what they'd whispered inside her head. She thought quickly of Morgan. She wondered if it was the same at his school and at Isabelle's big school, where you went when you were a grown up. She wondered if it was the same everywhere.

But it would be OK.

The voices arched and seemed to slither, and then whisper once again. Bo closed her eyes and listened.

In front of her, someone was stepping towards her. Her teacher's voice was echoing inside her head, telling her to come on now, she had to come with everyone else-the other children were getting up, moving. Her voice was getting inside Bo's head-

Bo gritted her teeth. The whispers grew louder, telling her to do something. Helping. Leading.

Bo opened her eyes. She looked up at her teacher and she smiled. She let them see her smile as she got out of her seat. She knew, now. She knew what she had to do.

"Freaking school" muttered Lionel, as they headed down the corridor, Morgan and Devon exchanging quick glances. Around them, they could still hear chaos emanating from various classrooms, but none of it interrupted Lionel's rant on the uselessness of the school. It was a rather impressive ability.

"Just take them home for now" the principal had said, the undertone in his voice rather pleading as they listened to the various messages now being frantically called into his office. "We can discuss the punishment another time, we're going to have to send the others' home anyway-"

Graham had hastily hustled Morgan out of the office, but Morgan had to admit, it was rather vexing to be reproved for aggressive behaviour when he had just witnessed the principal slamming his fist into the desk rather hard as he discovered his computer had also gone down with the lights.

They spilled into the open air, which was scarcely brighter than inside the building, leaving the sounds of teachers frantically trying to restore calm behind them. Morgan knew better than to say anything as they crossed the parking lot, until they reached their own, separate cars-in Lionel's case, a truck.

"So" said Lionel and for a moment, Morgan thought how ridiculous it was that this was the moment they chose to feel awkward, the moment when all the power had gone, and there was a weird storm hovering over their heads.

Graham raised a hand. "Have a-" He glanced up at the sky and Morgan knew the words "good day" were dying on his father's lips.

Lionel looked at him for a long moment, his head tilted to the side. Then, he said "See you, Father" and climbed into the truck. He stuck his head out of the window to Devon, who was still standing still, watching Morgan. "Get in. Now."

Devon sighed and with a roll of the eyes, raised his hand. "See you, Hess." With a sigh, he wandered round and flung himself into the other side of the truck.

Graham climbed into the driver's seat and with little reason to linger, Morgan scrambled into the other side.

Graham did not drive off immediately. Instead, he simply rested his head on his hands for a moment. It suddenly struck Morgan how very old his father looked.

Graham sighed. "Morgan-"

And his phone rang.

For a moment, Morgan stared out the windshield, wondering if God had honestly intervened, and then Graham reached into his jacket and yanked out the cell. "For-" He caught himself in time but Morgan wondered if it would have been wise to call his father out on taking the Lord's name in vain.

"Hello?" Graham promptly held the cell phone away from his ear. Morgan turned to stare at his father. There was a high-pitched sound through the wires-a sound that made Morgan's hair stand on end. "Hello?"

There was a garbled voice and Graham pulled the phone back to his ear. "Yes-yes-" Morgan watched his father's eyes widen, and a shiver ran over his skin. He clutched at his arms as if that could hold him together and watched and waited.

The night Morgan's mother had died, his father had come in to tell him and Bo. And he'd already known something was wrong-Uncle Merrill had been sitting with them, and even though he'd told them over and over again, all evening, that their dad would be home soon, that it would all work out, something had niggled in the back of Morgan's mind, some nagging, twisting thought that things weren't all right, and when their dad had sat down with Bo on his knee and his arm around Morgan's shoulders, and there'd been a moment when he'd closed his eyes before he told them and though Morgan never told anyone this, that moment before he knew for certain had been the worst.

And that was what this moment was like.

Graham held onto the wheel tight enough to turn the skin over his knuckles white and it was then he said quietly "I'll be there as soon as I can." And he hung up the phone.

"Dad?" Morgan could hear his own voice, faint and quavering in the air. "Dad!"

Graham swallowed, and for a moment, it seemed as if he couldn't hear his son. And then slowly, he handed the phone to him.

"We need to get Bo" he said. "Call Isabelle, Morgan."

Morgan blinked. "Isabelle? What, why-"

"Please, Morgan" and that was when Graham pressed his hands over his eyes and swallowed. "Call Isabelle."

Isabelle was already in the car when her cell phone rang.

Sitting next to her, Hannah was staring out of the window. "Jeez" she muttered. "It's like driving through a freaking hurricane." She looked at Isabelle. "You think that's what it is?"

Isabelle shook her head, already reaching for the phone. "I need to pull over."

Hannah looked at her. "Who is it?"

Isabelle glanced quickly at the phone as she pulled the car to the side of the road. "Graham."

Hannah frowned. "Isn't he in church or something?"

"Hello?" Isabelle was already frowning. "Graham? Have you seen this storm?"

Hannah watched Isabelle's eyebrows, the way they suddenly furrowed, her eyes narrowing. "OK" she said. "OK, slow down, it's fine, we're coming. Hannah's with me, is that OK? I couldn't just leave her, I don't want her home on her own-"

Hannah rolled her eyes, and Isabelle shook her head impatiently. "It's a storm, I don't know if it's safe for anyone to be on their own-look, I'll be there,-I'll be there as soon as possible." She stabbed the button to end the call so viciously Hannah was surprised that the phone didn't quiver at the expression on her friend's face.

"We need to go to Bo's kindergarten" was Isabelle's only response. "There's something wrong."

Hannah stared at her. "Is she OK?"

"I don't know." Isabelle's voice was quietly strained and Hannah could see her eyes-a quiet frantic look, her fingers gripping the wheel tightly. "Graham just said it was an emergency." Isabelle took a look at Hannah. "Look, no offence, but I don't want you going back on your own like this, I wouldn't be able to sleep."

Hannah sighed. "Fine. I'll let you babysit me."

Isabelle swallowed. "Do you reckon Darren will be OK?"

Hannah shrugged, glancing away, as if this had never occurred to her. "Yeah" she said, making a valiant effort to sound completely unruffled by this thought. "Pretty sure."

Isabelle glanced at her but said nothing more. Instead, she simply turned her attention back to the road.

It was several minutes later that they pulled up outside the gas station where Merrill worked, and Isabelle almost fell out of the car in her haste to get inside. Hannah followed her, taking a nervous glance up at the sky. It looked like every disaster movie she'd ever seen, and she wondered if even thinking that was a bad omen.

Isabelle yanked open the door of the small shop and Hannah followed her inside, blinking from the sudden brightness of the interior.

Sudden brightness.

"The lights are still on" Isabelle said blankly. She turned to look at Hannah. "The lights are still on!"

Hannah couldn't think of what repeating this over and over would do for their understanding of the situation but it was at that moment that Merrill emerged from the back room, and Isabelle practically threw herself at him.

"Izzy?" Merrill's arms went around her automatically as she buried her face in his neck. "Izzy, what's-" He caught sight of Hannah over her shoulder. "Hey, Hannah."

"Hey" said Hannah, keeping her voice deliberately neutral. She'd put it aside on Saturday, but it was difficult to forget that the last time she and Merrill had been face to face, she'd been calling him a jerk for storming out on her best friend.

"How come the lights aren't out?" Isabelle was asking now, her hands braided together behind Merrill's neck.

"What do you mean, Izzy?" Merrill was holding her gently now, his brow creased with concern.

"The lights are out everywhere. All over town. Schools, colleges-"

Merrill blinked. "Seriously?"

Isabelle shook her head. "No, Merrill, I thought I'd just leave early and drive here for a laugh." The harshness of her words was undermined by her arms wrapping themselves more tightly around him. "Yes, seriously. And we need to go. Graham called me-it's Bo."

Merrill blinked. "Bo?"

"We need to get to her school. We need to get there, now, there's been some kind of-we need to get there."

While Hannah might have had cause to take issue with Merrill recently, she couldn't argue with the fact he was quick to act. "Right." He yanked off his name tag, throwing it on the counter. "Come on." He glanced outside. "What about Morgan?"

"He's OK, he's with Graham. He'd had to go and pick him up anyway, there was some fight."

Merrill's eyes widened. "A fight?" He sounded entirely too excited and perhaps noticing both Isabelle and Hannah's expressions, changed his tone. "I mean, a fight?" He put on a look of exaggerated concern.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "He didn't have time to tell me everything but it's OK, Morgan's with him." Her fingers fastened onto Merrill's arm. "And there's this-and this-and I keep counting-and-"

"Hey-" Merrill's arms fastened around her. "Hey. Look at me. Look at me, Izzy."

Isabelle took a moment to tilt her face to his. Merrill hugged her, pressing his face into her hair. "It'll be OK" he told her. "It's going to be OK."

It took a moment but Isabelle exhaled shakily, her arms winding tighter around Merrill's neck. "Yeah" she said, the word questioning in its' own wariness and Merrill pressed his lips to her cheek in a quick kiss.

Hannah wasn't one for committed relationships, and she told herself that Darren would be perfectly fine but standing there, watching Isabelle nestle against Merrill's chest for a moment, she felt a small stab of something like longing and hastily turned away as Isabelle disentangled herself from Merrill's arms and turned towards her, with one of Merrill's arms still draped around her shoulders.

It was only as they turned the corner on the block heading to Bo's kindergarten that Isabelle turned to Merrill and asked "Where's your boss, anyway?"

"Went out." Merrill's words were quick, rapid-fire, with his fingers tapping nervously back and forth on the wheel. "Thought you might be him."

Isabelle frowned but any further line of questioning was cut off when Merrill glanced at her fingers, which were following his rhythm. "Izzy." He darted out a hand and closed its' grip around her fingers. In the backseat, Hannah watched, her eyes darting between the two nervously, as Isabelle stared at Merrill.

"I don't know I'm doing it" she said a moment later, her eyes darting out the window. "I don't know."

Hannah saw Merrill dart a quick anxious look at his girlfriend, but by then, they were pulling onto the street outside Bo's kindergarten and Graham's car was already there and anxious inquiries about finger-tapping would have to wait until later.

Because Bucks County was the sort of tiny town where everyone knew everyone and everything, Isabelle remembered walking the hallways of the kindergarten when she was five years old. Then again, when she wracked her memory, the best moment she could actually remember was always the going-home bell, and the worst was always the start of recess.

"I remember this" muttered Merrill and Isabelle shot him a look of surprise. "I remember some teacher yelling at me for running too fast down here and then they made me miss recess."

"Typical you."

"Exactly. I mean, I wasn't even running that fast. It was totally that other kid's fault that they were in the way."

Isabelle laughed, but it sounded too loud to her in the dark hallways. As they neared Bo's classroom, she caught a glimpse of adults standing still-presumably parents of Bo's classmates. Isabelle slid her hand into Merrill's as Graham stepped ahead, his eyes falling on one woman who Isabelle assumed was Bo's teacher.

As Graham spoke quietly to her, Isabelle glanced at Morgan. Through the dark, she could just make out the swelling of his lip and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice low.

Morgan glanced at her, then away, and shook his head.

"Morgan-"

"I'll tell you later" and her nephew turned back to look at her now, his eyes wider. "Please."

Isabelle fell silent. She became dimly aware that there were soft sniffing sounds, and muffled little sobbing noises all around and glancing back and forth, she saw that most of the children curled in their parents' arms had faces damp with tears, eyes red-rimmed through the dark.

It was then that she heard the woman say "never acted like that before" and turned around to see Graham heading towards a classroom door, his lips set in a firm line. Isabelle swallowed, tugging at Merrill's sleeve.

It was at the door that Graham hesitated, his hand lifting then falling. It was Isabelle who stepped forward and said "You want me to go in first?"

Graham's eyes met hers' for a moment and he nodded.

Isabelle stepped into the classroom warily. Her eyes darted about, taking in the scene in front of her.

There were small bookshelves overturned, chairs that lay on their sides like fallen bodies, and several desks that lay on their sides. Books littered the floor, and in the middle of it all, curled in a beanbag, sat Bo, her arms curled around herself.

Her gaze rested on the floor, her lips moving rapidly, absorbed in muttering something. Isabelle took a cautious step closer to her. "Bo?" she said, keeping her voice as soft as possible. A fleeting image flashed in her mind-a documentary, something about approaching wild animals as slowly as possible. "Bo?"

Bo murmured something, her eyes still on her knees. Near her now, Isabelle reached out an arm, slowly let her fingers brush Bo's skin. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Bo lifted her head to look at her and Isabelle's breath caught in her throat. Bo's eyes were glazed, glassy, and they moved slowly from side to side, as if unsure of what she was seeing. Slowly, they focused on Isabelle's face and she muttered the words again.

"What?" Isabelle bent closer, telling herself she must be mistaken, she couldn't have heard the words she thought she had, she couldn't have.

But she bent closer and her fingers tightened on Bo's arm as the little girl's mouth pressed up close to her ear and she heard the words.

"They're coming" whispered Bo. "They're coming."

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