“Stop it!”

That laugh again. It seemed to swirl around the room, permeate through the walls and rattle the

very pipes in the building. “No one tells me what to do.” The boy turned his face, and ran his tongue

over Ginger’s lips.

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Fizz, stop it! Daniel!”

Ginger closed his eyes. Fizz’s tongue pressed between his cousin’s placid lips, pushing inside his

mouth. Ryan’s body started to tremble, though not with fear, with anger. The pool of blood on the

floor was still dripping up, collecting on the ceiling.

So much red.

All Ryan could focus on was someone else kissing Ginger. Someone else taking what he wanted.

Red heat lined his vision until he saw crimson. The smell of sulphur burned his nose when he drew in

a breath and, with fists clenched, he surged forward.

Ryan had never hit anyone before – had never wanted to – but the cloud of rage propelled him,

guiding his hand as he grabbed a handful of Fizz’s hair, yanking the boy up. His right hand clenched

into a fist, swung round, and punched Fizz so hard Ryan felt the impact shudder all the way to his

shoulder. He gasped from the pain, and the heat of his anger faded with the shock. Fizz fell back,

blood spurting from his nose. He laughed.

Ryan looked down at him as the boy opened his eyes. His tongue snaked out to lick the fresh blood

off his lips. “Ryan,” he purred. “Do that again.”

Ryan backed away. “Stop it! Who the fuck are you?”

Fizz writhed in the face of Ryan’s anger, half closing his eyes. He moaned softly, and the sound

made Ryan pause. What the hell? Was Fizz getting off on this? The boy laughed again, the sound low

and mocking.

Ryan turned to Ginger; still lying on the bed. He looked up at Ryan almost sleepily, his lips parted

and shiny.

“Oh, yes.” Fizz chuckled from behind them, yet his voice seemed to be everywhere at once. “Isn’t

this what you wanted, Ryan? A bed together, just the two of you. Go on, touch him. I won’t tell a

soul.”

Ryan’s resolve wavered. The last of his anger faded as lust swept in, replacing one molten heat with

another. The air around him felt thick and warm. It was like stepping into a dream, a fantasy. This

can’t be happening. Ryan leant forward, his eyes drawn to Ginger’s lips, desperate to taste. His tongue

wet his lips at the thought of claiming that pretty mouth. He so wanted to taste. His fingers reached

down, grasping handfuls of red hair, sifting through the soft tresses.

Something dripped, red on red. Ryan blinked. Another drip of red, barely discernible in Ginger’s

hair. Still Ryan leaned in. This was his dream; he wanted this. Beneath him, eyes of hazel brown

fluttered open, luring him in further. Ryan pressed his lips over Ginger’s, just the softest touch. Did he

dare take more? So many of his dreams started out like this. Ryan whimpered with sheer longing, but

before he closed his eyes completely, he saw a spot of red appear on Ginger’s cheek. Reluctantly,

Ryan lifted his head. His eyes cleared, focussing on the drop of blood that had landed on Ginger’s pale

skin. Another drop spattered next to it.

Looking up, Ryan bit back a cry as he saw the stain of blood on the ceiling had followed them;

bubbling and churning over their heads. If that was a cloud, it was about to start raining blood any

second now. This was no dream, he realised, it was a nightmare.

“Daniel, wake up,” Ryan said firmly. “We need to go.” He grabbed Ginger’s arm, using all his

strength to haul him up. Ginger clung on, staggering against him. “Quick,” Ryan hissed. He didn’t

look behind them, not even when he heard Fizz call out. Droplets fell, spatters of red on the

floorboards. Ryan slid his arm around Ginger’s waist, and pulled him away. The blood started raining

down, bringing with it a rank stench of sulphur. Ryan gasped, then promptly closed his mouth. Blood,

he thought, as his mind panicked. Don’t swallow it. Get out, now.

The blood rained hard, and Ryan slipped on the floor. Ginger was too heavy to hold up. Ryan

couldn’t hold him, not like this. He almost toppled, then a strong arm shot out and steadied them both.

A man had appeared on Ginger’s other side. Ryan blinked through the lashings of red rain, staring.

The man looked back at him – that stranger in the mirror! – and he nodded once. His expression set,

and his lips pressed thin as he heaved his arm back and pushed. A force harder than a freight train

knocked Ryan off his feet. Everything blurred as it rushed past him. He shouted in alarm, desperately

trying to keep hold of Ginger. The hard impact of the floor slammed against his back, making Ryan

gasp. He grunted as Ginger’s added weight came down on top of him.

Ryan blinked his eyes, surprised to see they were out on the stairwell, not in the pigeon loft at all.

That man had given them one hell of a shove.

“Daniel?” Ryan manoeuvred them around so he could check on Ginger. There was no blood,

nothing on him, but Ginger lay on the floor as boneless as a ragdoll. “Daniel? Are you –” Ryan leaned

over him, tears springing to his eyes. “Oh, God.”

Ginger’s eyes opened halfway, fixing on Ryan. His lips moved, and Ryan had to lower his head to

hear.

“Wh-what?” he asked, voice shaking. “Daniel, what –”

“Sleepy,” he whispered. “Just had to say...”

“What?” Ryan blinked, his tears falling onto Ginger’s face.

“You,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “It’s you, Ry. Should’ve said...before.”

“Daniel?” Ryan cupped his face. “Daniel!”

He didn’t respond. Ryan dared to lift an eyelid, but he wasn’t sure what to check for. The hazel

brown pupil stared straight ahead, dull, unresponsive. Ryan let the eyelid close.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

He tapped the side of Ginger’s cheek. “Daniel? Daniel, please, don’t do this to me.”

Still no response.

This couldn’t be happening. Ryan’s tears dried up as panic gripped him. He had to do something.

Ginger wasn’t having a mental breakdown, so this had to be a medical problem. Ambulance. The

thought lit up like a beacon in his mind. He had to call for an ambulance.

Ryan pulled himself up, glancing down at Ginger on the floor. He was torn, unwilling to leave him

there, but he knew he had to. Stupidly, he’d left his mobile phone down in the bar. The nearest

telephone was downstairs. The nearest person, however, was Matt, in the kitchen.

Chapter Seventeen

“Matt!” Ryan burst into the kitchen. “MATT!”

“Hang on.” Matt pulled a cage of sizzling chips from the deep fat fryer. “What?”

“Call an ambulance! Now!”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

Ryan was already out of the kitchen. Matt left the chips, and followed him. “Ryan? Is it Fizz?”

“No.” Ryan’s voice wavered. “It’s Daniel, he – he’s collapsed.”

“He what?”

“Just go downstairs and call the ambulance!” Ryan shouted, diving back through the staff door. He

charged up the stairs, not wanting to leave Ginger for a second longer. What if Fizz came out of the

pigeon loft? What if he did something more to Ginger? Ryan tripped on the stairs, fell and banged his

knee. He cursed, but he didn’t stop.

When he reached the landing, Ginger was in the same place Ryan had left him. Ryan fell to his

knees next to him, whispering, “Daniel? Daniel, we’re calling the ambulance. We should’ve called it

before, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Low laughter filtered out from the pigeon loft. Ryan looked up, into a darkened hall. The pigeon

loft seemed to absorb all the light, and was growing darker. A figure stepped into its hallway.

Fizz.

“Ryan,” he called. “Come here? I want to say sorry.”