"I'm pure! Tell him I'm pure, Bee!"

"Better had be," answered the Beetle. "Can't stand hybrids."

Icarus was holding me with a bright stare. "Pure is poor, featherboy," he said, and I swear that I saw the glints of flights in his eyes. "You've got some juice inside, kid."

Icarus said that, and I was drawn back. Back through the years, the months, like time was streaked with Vaz. Something was stirring...

I was seventeen years old. There was a red sun that day, I remember, and the trees were full of starlings. I was lying in the grass of Platt Fields, with a girl named Desdemona. She was my sister, fifteen years old, but I loved her a lot. Too much. More than is good. More than is legal. She was stretched out and hot, and my right hand was stroking her leg, way up, and she was smiling. She moved her head slightly and her lips were touching mine. I had a hard-on. Hard-on for a sister. Five seconds later she was touching the hard-on through my pants, then was up on top of me, her hair a blonde halo against the scarlet sun, and I was caressing the dragon tattoo on her upper arm.

"If father should find us..." she said.

Imagine, she said that. She actually said that. Not Vurt or robo; real words from a real mouth. Her twin lips like the two halves of a dream, slightly parted.

Her cunt was pressed against my cock and the world was pretty.

"Don't let's talk about dad," I answered.

"He scares me, Scribble."

"I will always look out for you."

The two of us laughing then, I remember that, before those lips descended to mine, and we were sealed.

Some things you just can't destroy, and this memory is one of them.

She kissed me. A raging full-on contact. The sun was blocked out. My eyes were shut. Her hair fell against my cheeks and lights danced in my eyes. I was in honey. "I'll love you forever," the voice whispered, and I can't remember if it was mine, or hers. I felt the pleasure build all the way through me, even down to the ankles, my left ankle especially, for some reason. The pleasure just there was intense, like I'd never felt before. Next thing, Desdemona was screaming, and the pleasure turned into pain. She jumped off me, turning to see the colours flashing. I jerked up, pulled by the fire in my leg, and saw the dreamsnake feeding there, twin fangs clamped shut, around my ankle, and the sun was a blister in my vision.

I opened my eyes to the barking of a robodog. Mandy had Karli by a taut lead, the bitch's muzzle inches from the dreamsnake in Icarus's hand.

"You deliver the goods, Icarus..." the Beetle was saying. "English Voodoo. Or the snake gets it..."

GAME CAT

Every morning the Game Cat opens his big sack. Oh my kittlings! All those letters! It's lucky the Cat has such a large brain, good drugs, and all the time in the universe to spend on helpful hints. Oh all your problems! How on earth do you live down there? Real life seems so physical these days; so very meaty. And the one subject that transfixes you, more than any other? How can I get higher? How can I get out of this hole? How can I get to live like the Cat? In other words; let me get my hands on some KNOWLEDGE FEATHERS. Where can I buy some English Voodoo, some Talking Bush, some MegaHead? Or any of the other Knowledge Feathers that may, or may not exist? The Cat has said it a thousand times; you don't buy knowledge, you earn knowledge. Still the letters flood in. So let it be said, once and for all: Knowledge Vurt is for the few, not the herd. They are multicoloured steps on a ladder of dreams. They are made by the heavenly for their own enjoyment. They are dangerous to the innocent. That's you, little kittling. Comprendez? They can't be bought. If someone offers to sell you one, believe me, it's a fake, it's a pirate copy. Pirates don't give knowledge, they just steal your money. And bring you grief. Because invariably these cheapo mixes are infested with Vipers. And if you don't know what Vipers are, you shouldn't be within a thousand miles of Knowledge Vurt.

This is your final warning.

AN ENGLISH GARDEN

Beetle poured his Vaz into another lock, and we drove a cheap bust-up Ford back to base. We were feeling pretty high, what with the afterglow of the sex shimmy, and the Voodoo feather held tight in my fingers. There was laughter and craziness in the car, and every streetlamp brought a dazzle to the Knowledge Feather; it was black, pink, and gold in my hands, and the gold was the most beautiful. We rode into the Rusholme Gardens like warriors. Twinkle was waiting for us. She'd got into the flat somehow, through the tight security, and Beetle wanted to know how.

"I don't know, Bee," I said.

"You give her a key?"

"Me?"

Twinkle was sitting on the couch, supercool, chewing on a Choc-U-Fat.

"Scribble, get that baby out of here."

I tried, but failed miserably. The kid wasn't budging. "She's not moving, Bee," I said, pulling on her arms. It was like someone had smeared her arse with anti-Vaz.

"I'm in the gang now," Twinkle said. "I've swapped with Bridget."

"Has the kid gone yet?" asked Beetle.

"Not yet. No."

"What you doing, giving keys away?"

"She's lonely, Bee. Got a terrible homelife --"

Mandy started to laugh. "Let's do it, Bee!" she said. And then the Beetle was moving to the table, stroking Vaz into the flights of the Voodoo feather. I could see the yellow glints shining and they were opening doors in my mind, onto a yellow haze where my sister was waiting for me. Beetle was popping some Jammers, like he was expecting a hard trip and tickling Mandy's face with the feather, the same time. "Try this for size," he said, and he stroked it into Mandy's mouth. "Oh god, I'm melting," she said, taking it like a robopro. Then the Beetle moved over towards Twinkle.

"Beetle! It's too high for her!"

"She wants in, Scribble, she gets in."

"She's underage, Bee --"

"We're all underage," he replied, and Twinkle's mouth was open, ready to accept the gift. Beetle stroked the young girl. I could see him getting off on it. I'll bet he was getting hard on it, still charged up from the Pink shimmy.

"You ever done this before?" asked Mandy, from the slow depths of Vurt.

"Course I have. Loads of times!" Twinkle answered. "Well swallow this then," said The Beetle.

"Go easy, Beetle," I said. "Mandy, help me..."

But Mandy was gone, riding the feather.

And then the Twinkle was gone, the same trip.

Just me and the Bee left.

"Beetle?"

"What?"

"I think we're doing this badly. Let's slow it down some."

"Yeah? For why?"

"Voodoo's dangerous. You don't know, Bee. I've been there. It's --"

"Suck on this, baby! We lost Brid and the Thing, just to please you. Now fucking well take it! Let's go find the sister."

My lips were parted to speak in protest, except that he pushed the feather between them, and I was riding it as well, riding good, down to the wet source, and I could feel the credits rolling, just like all that time ago, with Desdemona at my side, and then I was gone...

WELCOME TO ENGLISH VOODOO. EXPECT TO FEEL PLEASURE. KNOWLEDGE IS SEXY. EXPECT TO FEEL PAIN. KNOWLEDGE IS TORTURE.

...falling towards the garden.

The garden was serene and beautiful, quintessentially English, just like I remembered, with burbling fountains and a mass of flowers growing wild, overflowing their beds. It was enclosed by a circular wall, but that was miles away, and I wasn't interested in what lay out there. I wanted the garden; its heady perfume was caressing my senses, and a burst of pleasure was choking me, like every drop of blood in my veins had taken a sap-ride to my cock. Felt like exploding some, into the goddess of earth, the witch of dirt. I felt like digging a hole in the soil and just doing it, but something was keeping me back; knowledge of the mission. I was inside the Vurt, and I knew that I was, but I wasn't getting the Haunting! I felt control flood through me, like I'd been seeded with something, some new knowledge. I was in the garden of English Voodoo, looking for the Curious Yellow feather, where Desdemona lay waiting, living in pain. The Beetle and Mandy were walking hand in hand through the flowers, the way that young lovers do. Twinkle was breaking off a flower head, bringing it to her nostrils. She was smiling, feeling the perfume stroking her. Karli Dog was chasing butterflies through the briar patches, getting covered in petals. Shit! Beetle had stroked the robodog too, a feather inside a dog's mouth. No matter. We were all there, having a good time. Knowledge was seeping from the flowers, like the breath of pollen. The Beetle raised his hand, waved at me, lazy-like, and I answered him the same. The world was blissful. I was falling into a haze of peace and it took all that I had just to keep from drifting away. I was looking for the gardeners. The ones Desdemona and I had joined the last time. Or the bird in the trees. But the garden was empty. Just us Stash Riders in there, wandering amongst the flowers.