either. His face was thin and effeminate, especially with that artful flop of hazel brown hair, clipped

short at the sides, left long on top. Everything about his style was vintage yet, ironically, also in

fashion.

Maybe Fizz remembered him from a movie poster or something? Was that where he’d conjured this

vision from? The young man stared at him, his mouth slanting up in a smile. His eyes darkened and

suddenly Fizz felt fear replace his curiosity.

That smile wasn’t friendly, and those eyes were too dark. A black vapour seeped out from their

corners, rising in the air around him. Fizz blinked his eyes to focus, and noticed more things about the

man; there were bruises on his face, a cut on his lower lip. His clothes were torn in places, like he’d

been in a fight.

Fizz’s heart, which had slowed only moments ago, started beating fast.

“Ahh,” the vision said. He showed a flash of white teeth as he smiled wider. “Now you worry.”

Fizz willed himself to stay calm. He was asleep, that was all, and this was a nightmare. The

counsellors had told him for years if he knew he was in a dream, he could guide and control his way

out of it. This in mind, he swallowed hard, and said, “H-hello.”

The young man threw his head back and laughed heartily. The black vapour spilling from his eyes

was momentarily dispersed, like smoke. He stretched his legs out as he laughed, leaning back on thin

air as comfortably as if he sat on a lounger.

“Um, who are you?” Fizz asked.

The laughing stopped. The young man straightened in his seat and stared at Fizz. “Surely, dear boy,

the question is, who are you?”

Fizz was confused. “N-no, I know who I am.”

The man looked as though he were about to start laughing again. “Do you now? So tell me, are you

Jamie, or are you Fizz?”

Fizz thought about this, then voiced his first answer. “I guess...I’m both.”

“Indeed.”

“So, who are you?”

“Maybe I am you.”

Fizz didn’t think that was right. “You don’t look anything like me.”

“No,” the man sighed. “More’s the pity. What I could have done with your looks!”

Fizz felt his cheeks heat up. Why on earth would he dream up a hallucination that complimented

him? Was this his way of coping with Ash? Or more accurately, without Ash? Fizz’s eyes stung with

tears at the thought. He didn’t want to think about Ash.

“So, who are you?” he asked again.

“He’s an old pervert, that’s who,” said a new voice. Fizz looked to the door, seeing the figure of a

much taller, broader man. Fizz knew instantly that his was the same gruff voice that had spoken

before, and this vision was even stranger. He was in some kind of uniform, like a soldier. Fizz didn’t

know what era the uniform was from; the jacket was dark green and dusty, with brass buttons over it.

The soldier was definitely older in appearance, his face worn and haggard. He was also scowling hard.

“Oh, Martin, you’re such a bore,” the young man told him. “I’m going to banish you from my room

now.”

“You need to stop this,” the soldier said.

“Pish!” The young man stood from his invisible chair, and appeared to dust himself down. Fine

bursts of dust motes dispersed through the air at his action, and Fizz could smell something sharp and

acrid tickle his nose. He watched the two visions, intrigued more than scared.

“You’ll get in trouble again,” the soldier said. “They’ll put you in the wall.”

“Never.” Black vapour seeped from the young man’s eyes, clouding them completely. “Leave,

Martin.” He held out his hand, palm spread up. Fizz next looked for the soldier, but he had

disappeared. Vanished completely.

“Where did –” Fizz paused. He heard footsteps echo down the hall, hurrying away. So, at least the

soldier was all right, Fizz thought. Trust him to have a crazy hallucination. He frowned in thought, a

memory from earlier pushing to the front of his mind. “You...you’re Finlay, aren’t you?”

“Well, upon my soul!” the young man said snidely. “Not a complete fool then.”

Fizz looked up at him. Reality tried to catch up with his pill-fogged senses. There was something

about this man that seemed familiar, something that made a shiver break out over his skin. The cool,

chiding tone of that voice sounded like those whispers in his ear. The chill that ran over his skin was

the same icy touch that had tickled his neck many times before, and that sense of being watched...

Fizz gasped. “You’re real?”

“As real as I can be.” His lips curved up in a mean smile. “Thanks to you.”

“You’re real,” Fizz repeated. “I’m not mad?”

Finlay shuddered, and disappeared. Fizz stared at the empty space, then jumped at the words spoken

directly into his ear. “Who can say?” Finlay crouched next to him. Fizz scrabbled away in fright,

knocking his head against the wall. There was nowhere to run. Cold sweat broke over his skin as his

heart resumed its pounding.

Finlay smiled lazily, half closing his eyes. He drew in a languorous breath like he was scenting the

air, and let it out with a sigh. Fizz could feel the cold breath blow right through him, and recognised

the smell as sulphur.

“You feed me.”

“Wha– what?”

Finlay opened his eyes, pools of black vapour seeping out of them. “Feed me. I need more. You

have everything, while I’m trapped in here.”

“Please,” Fizz whispered. “Don’t –”

“It won’t hurt.” His voice was soft, soothing. “I’ve been stealing your energy since you woke me.

Carefully, carefully. This is my room, little boy. My place.” He glanced away, wistful. “We all have

our place.”

“I – I didn’t mean to,” Fizz said. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, but I’m so pleased you did.” Those black eyes fixed on him. Through the vapour, Fizz could

see their true colour was a soft hazel.

“I can – I can go,” he said. “I’ll leave you in peace, I won’t bother you again.”

“You’re not leaving. Until I find a way to escape this wretched building, I’m trapped here.” He

inched closer, smiling. “Unless I have a some body to leave with.”

Fizz felt his chest constrict, his breathing quicken. Dully, he realised he was on the verge of a panic

attack. The pills must have staved it off so far. He forced himself to ask, “W-why are you here?”

“They killed me.”

“Who?”

“Men.” Finlay’s eyes blinked away the blackness, for a moment shining clear brown and bright. He

looked so young then, young and vulnerable. “Soldiers, here in the barracks. Before the new building

went up. They killed me.”

Fizz swallowed hard. “I-I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Finlay’s face darkened, his eyes clouding again to black. “The major sent them for me,

that bastard. He was jealous because I wouldn’t see him anymore. It’s not fair.”

Fizz took a gasping breath as an overwhelming wave of despair hit him. They were feelings he

recognised, but they weren’t his own. The first sting of tears blurred his vision. He blinked, letting

them fall down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he said, for he truly was.

The young man glared at him. “Do you want to know what they did? It happened in this very room.”

He crawled forward, leaning into Fizz. The bruises on his face swelled, and his skin darkened with

colour. Blood spilled forth from his head, matting his hair, streaming down his face in bright red

rivers. The cut on his lip split wide as he smiled, blood oozing between his teeth.

“Do you want me to show you?”

Chapter Thirteen

Ryan heard the side door slam. Assuming it was Ginger, he raced around the bar, and into the

stairwell. No one was there, but the door was only just closing, like someone had recently walked