“They’ve gone now,” Kayla told me.

“How can you be so sure?” I asked her.

“Because I can’t hear them,” she half-smiled at me.

“Okay?” Coanda said, eyeing me.

“I’m fine,” I told him, setting off towards the ridge where we were to make camp for the night.

The rest of the group hung back, as if sensing that I wanted – needed – to be alone. I scrambled over the ridge of rock and found myself in a circular clearing. The ground was rocky and uneven in places. The area was shielded by trees and I was relieved to not see one of those weeping willows, even though as the wind blew by, I was sure I could still hear them sobbing.

Walking to the outermost edge, I leant against a large rock and watched the others climb into the clearing. Potter glanced across at me and winked. Leaving the others, he came towards me.

“How you doing, tiger?” he whispered, popping a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

“Just leave me alone,” I told him.

“If you say you saw your dad in those woods, then I believe you,” he said hunkering down beside me.

“And what about Kayla?” I hissed.

Shrugging his huge shoulders, he blew smoke from the corner of his mouth and said, “Did you really see her, Kiera?”

“I saw her!” I snapped and stared into his eyes.

Staring back into mine, Potter said, “Okay, I believe you.”

“My dad was a ghost, I can accept that,” I told him. “But Kayla wasn’t. She was really there.”

“Okay,” he said. “I don’t claim to understand why, but I believe you.”

“Why?” I pushed.

Looking back over his shoulder at the others and then back at me he whispered, “Because I saw one or two of my own demons hiding out in those woods.”

“Who?” I breathed.

“You wouldn’t know him,” Potter said.

“Who?” I insisted.

“A Lycanthrope,” he told me, not meeting my gaze as if he felt ashamed in some way. “His name was Drake, and he paid the price for crimes he didn’t commit.”

“Why didn’t you say this back in the woods?” I hissed. “Why did you let everyone think I was going mad?”

“Because I’m starting to believe that this Elias Munn wants you and everyone else to believe you’re going mad. He wants us to question your judgment, Kiera – to stop people from having faith in you.”

“And what about you?” I asked him. “Do you have faith in me, Potter?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he smiled and winked at me. Then, without saying another word, he stood, dropped his smouldering cigarette butt, ground it out with the heel of his boot, and walked away. I sat and looked at that cigarette butt and recalled the one I had seen by the weeping willow. I continued to look at it while the others set up camp and the sky turned black.

Taking my iPod, I switched it on. Rolling onto my side and closing my eyes, I lay and listened to Will Young sing Leave Right Now, and I wished that I could.

Chapter Twenty-One

“She can’t be!” The pathologist murmured as she hovered over me, scalpel only inches from my good eye.

“I’m alive in here!” I screamed inside my head. Got to get that scalpel away from me! Got to get that…

Then, without thought, more by instinct, I thrust out my hand and took hold of the pathologist’s wrist. I curled the three fingers on my right hand with such force that the pathologist screamed, fearing her wrist bone would disintegrate.

“Get that thing away from me!” I yelled, but the words didn’t sound anything like that. They came out sounding slushy, like water lapping against the side of a bath. My tongue rolled against the inside of my mouth and spittle sprayed from the small, circular opening where my lips had once been.

“Slet sat sing sway rom smeee!” I screamed again, jerking the pathologist’s arm to the right and sending the scalpel flying across the lab. The guy with the needle ducked, then slipped backwards and crashed into a silver trolley that toppled over and sent surgical equipment clattering across the room.

The police officer backed away and began fumbling for his radio which was attached to his shirt. Groaning, the pathologist fell away, holding her wrist to her chest. I swung my legs over the edge of the mortuary slab and stood naked before them. My legs began to buckle in the middle and I staggered forward, leaning against the tiled wall of the mortuary to keep my balance.

“Slothes!” I screeched at them, holding out the two fingers that dangled from my left hand. “Slothes!”

“What?” the Pathologist mumbled, her face as white as her medical coat.

“Slothes!” I said again, through the hole in my face.

“She wants her clothes,” the police officer said, stepping away from the wall on the opposite side of the mortuary.

I looked at him with my one bloodshot eye and nodded in

agreement. “Slothes,” I said again, holding out what was left of my hands. “Slothes spleese.”

“Give the girl her clothes,” the officer ordered to the lab assistant.

I watched as the assistant gathered my clothes from a nearby workbench. Everything appeared to be in infrared. The assistant came towards me like a child nearing a dog that had a history of biting. When he was within a few feet of me, the lab assistant chucked the clothes in a ball at my feet.

Bending, I picked up the black overalls and threaded one of my legs into them. Lurching from side to side, I looked at the lab assistant and shouted, “Selp smee!”

The assistant looked at me, trying to decipher what it was that I wanted.

“Help her put her clothes on,” the officer said as he tried to remove his radio from his shirt hoping he hadn’t drawn my attention to what he was planning to do.

Coming forward, the assistant bent down and pulled the legs of the overalls up to my waist. I leant against him for support and the assistant shuddered under my icy touch and…

Chapter Twenty-Two

…I was woken by the sound of screaming. Sitting bolt upright, I could already see that Potter was on his feet and staring into the trees that surrounded the camp. Luke jumped up, followed by Coanda, but where were Isidor and Kayla? And who had been screaming?

Tucking my iPod away, I raced into the centre of the camp. The fire that had been made was now nothing more than a pile of smouldering ash. It was still night and those stalagmites continued twinkle above us.

“Who was screaming?” I asked the others, but before any of them had a chance to answer, Isidor came staggering from amongst the trees and into the camp. His hands were held out before him and something black dripped from them. He made a gasping sound in the back of his throat, as if he were having difficulty in breathing. He looked down at his hands, his mouth open.

“Isidor?” I yelled as I raced towards him. “What’s happened?”

As if in answer to my question, he held his hands up and I could see they were covered in blood. “Isidor, have you hurt yourself?” I asked, feeling my own panic start to rise inside of me.

Staring at me from between his bright red fingers, he shook his head and mumbled, “Kayla.”

“Kayla!” I snapped at him, fighting the urge to shake some sense into him. “Where’s Kayla? What has happened to her?”

Then, turning slowly, he pointed one blood-soaked finger back towards the trees and I watched as it dripped with red stuff. Realising I wouldn’t get any sense from him, I brushed him aside and ran towards the trees. Screwing up my eyes, I stared into the slices of blackness between the trees. I could see where they had been broken down and bent aside where Isidor had made his way towards them. Following the tracks he had left behind, I raced amongst the trees.

“Kayla!” I hollered. “Kayla where are you?”

I could hear the others come floundering through the trees behind me, and I cursed them under my breath as I feared that they could well be destroying any tracks that might have been left behind. But I didn’t have time to give them a lecture in crime scene preservation right now, so I pushed on. Then just ahead, I could see something that made my heart stop. My fears of there being a crime scene were correct as I spied Kayla lying dead on the ground just feet from me. I stood rooted to the spot and looked down at her. Kayla lay on her back, her arms splayed out on either side of her. Her eyes were open and blank-looking. Her hands were curled into fists and her head looked misshapen and covered in blood. Her thick, red hair lay in bloody stripes across her face where it had stuck to the blood. The urge was to run to her and cradle her in my arms, but I had to bury my feelings deep inside me. If I ever had to keep control, it was now. I wouldn’t do Kayla any justice if I raced forward and destroyed any clues that might have been left. I would catch whomever had done this to her and rip their fucking heart out. So fighting back my own tears, I looked over my shoulder at Luke, Potter, and Coanda who raced towards me.

“Stop!” I ordered, showing them the flat of my hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

“What’s going on here?” Coanda barked. Then, peering over my shoulder and looking down at Kayla’s corpse, he whispered, “Oh for fuck’s sake!” But he didn’t say it as if he was upset by the death of my friend, he sounded annoyed that it was going to hamper with what he had planned at the Light House.

Luke and Potter joined us and seeing Kayla spread dead before them, Luke turned away and Potter just froze, his eyes fixed firmly on the sight before him.

“Who did this?” I heard Luke whisper. “She was just a child.”

“That’s what I want to find out,” I whispered back, fighting the urge to cry.

Potter made a move towards her body. Taking him by the arm, I looked up into his face and said, “She’s dead, Potter. If you want to help her, stand back and just let me…just let me see. Okay?”

Swallowing hard, he looked at me and nodded.

Turning, I hunkered down and taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers over the surface of the ground around Kayla’s body. Screwing up my eyes so I could penetrate the darkness, I searched the area. Moving forward inch by inch, I let my eyes wander over the crime scene. When I was happy I had seen everything, I turned my attention to Kayla. Taking hold of her feet, I lifted them gently and let my fingers dance over her boot laces. I ran my fingers up the length of her overalls. At the neck, I unzipped them. Folding back the material to reveal her chest, I winced at the sight of the gaping wound and bite marks just above her right nipple. I placed my fingertips on the inside of her clothes, letting my fingers brush over the material. Once I was satisfied, I turned to her hands. I uncurled her fingers and gasped. In each palm she clutched a severed ear. Looking briefly at her fingernails, I then held my breath and gently brushed away the hair that covered her face. As I feared, both of her ears had been bitten off and it was those which she clutched in her fists.