with me.

Oh, who would it be? I wished for the flame-haired man; I could use his energy, I was sure of it.

When he returned, he carried bags with him, much to my delight. He dumped the bags and turned

around to talk to someone who trailed behind him.

This was my guest, then. I craned my neck harder. Another young man; this one a pale slip of a boy.

He shuffled into the room with his head low. Black, tousled hair hid his face. He held a smaller bag

close to his chest, cuddling it like a child might do its toy. The red-head spoke but his voice sounded

garbled, like it was underwater. I tried shaking my head to clear the eternal fog, but it didn’t help.

When I next looked, the red-head had gone, and the younger boy had simply flopped onto the

mattress. The first wave of emotion hit me. Oh, now that felt good. I studied the curled up figure on

the bed as a veritable tidal wave of sadness and self-pity rolled off him. I breathed in deep, scenting it.

My head started to clear, my ears popped and I could hear again. The room was quiet but, far off in the

building, I could hear the sounds of people clattering about and talking, shouting.

So much energy.

Although, my new lodger was giving me a good dose of energy. I stared at his form across the

room, wishing I was closer. What was wrong with him? There appeared to be no trace of sickness. The

sadness seemed to come from deep within, like a blooming, rotting flower.

More, I projected. Give me more.

As if in answer, his emotional wave crested and a sob wrenched out of him. The energy was so

strong. I could almost wriggle my fingers now.

Give me more.

He moved, shuffling his way over to the wireless. Amid sobs, he dragged the machine closer to him

and began rifling through one of his bags. He pushed the hair out of his face, and I caught my first

proper glimpse of him. Such a fine face. What on earth was he crying for? If I’d been born that

handsome, I’d have spent my whole life celebrating. What possibly could have happened to this boy to

make him so miserable?

He produced a rounded, shiny disc of silver. I had no idea what he was doing. He put it into the

wireless itself, and I could feel the electricity surge into it, spinning the disc inside the machine. The

boy buried himself into his bed again, biting back the sobs. I wished I could ask him what was going

on. I frowned to myself, feeling the energy build up around the small machine.

When the first note blasted out, I jolted with a start. Something that sounded like nails scraping

down a blackboard ripped through the air. A pounding thump, then an almighty noise filled the room.

“Good God!” I winced. The boy in bed didn’t move. What was he listening to? Was he torturing

himself? Had he been sent here to act out a penance by listening to this...this...

Music.

It was music, but like nothing I’d ever heard. Its beat pulsed through me, pounding a heavy rhythm.

Drumming, clashing, electrified shrieking, all overlaid with a fierce battle cry of “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

The wall softened around me. I soaked in the electrical currents, the surge of noise. A male voice

snarled over the music, “Do you want to see me dead?”

I snorted at that.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” The song chanted, and the distorted sounds vibrated along the walls, firing into

me.

“Oh!” I suddenly found I could wriggle more freely. “Yes!” I punched one fist out, flexing my

fingers in the air.

“Be with me, then be with death!”

“Let me out!” I grunted.

“Hey, baby, don’t you want to see me...DEAD?”

As the riot of sounds charged the room, I kicked first one leg out, then the other. It was like

wrestling with sticky, wet toffee.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!”

“I’m out!” I roared, bursting free. “At bloody last!”

My senses were awash, all new and prickly. I fell upon the wireless machine, trying to touch the

whirling disc inside. My fingers sank in, and electricity travelled up my arms. The machine crackled

and the sounds stuttered. My touch disturbed it. I didn’t want the strangely exhilarating music to stop,

so I pulled back.

The boy lifted his head from the covers to glance at his wireless. When the noise returned to

normal, he rolled over and resumed his sobbing. I crouched down beside him, breathing in his

melancholy air. “What’s wrong with you?”

He didn’t hear me, of course. I leaned in and brushed my fingers over his soft, dark hair. A shiver

ran over his skin. “Am I cold?” I whispered near his ear. “Let me feel you.” I dipped my fingers into

his head.

During my last few years of mischief I had, by complete accident, discovered a new trick. If I

concentrated hard, and let myself drift through another person, I could ride the rush of energy, and see

and feel what they felt. Sometimes it was just flashes, or a sensation. It differed from person to person.

And I hadn’t done this for years... What was I expecting from my new lodger? A memory of what had

happened to make him this sad, perhaps? Some sort of explanation?

No one could be this miserable without a reason.

And yet...nothing. It was like reaching into a black well of misery, a well that went on forever. No

rhyme or reason to it, just nothing. My hands sifted around, wafting through the depths inside him.

The energy was so powerful. The rush I felt was intense, and my eyes rolled back in my head. “Oh,

yes,” I whispered, drawing it in. This was incredible. It coursed through every part of me. I started to

feel aroused, groaning with the pleasure of it.

Then I stopped. I opened my eyes and glared down at this boy. “What are you so miserable about?

At least you’re alive.”

I left the wretched child. Let him rot. For the first time in years, I sought to leave the room. With

my new found energy, I felt strong. I didn’t even need to move a step, I simply projected myself out. I

wanted to be where the officer’s mess used to be, in the barracks; what was later the family’s private

kitchen.

In an instant, I was in that room. There was energy everywhere. It ricocheted off the walls like so

many comets, and I felt almost giddy. I had to focus my mind and concentrate. Looking around, I saw

this was still used as a kitchen. And what a ghastly state. Cooking utensils not put away, food caked on

dirty plates, stacked up on every available surface. The walls were oily, and haphazardly decorated

with strange artwork, none of which were in frames. One picture caught my eye; a ghoulish vampyre

with the words Bela Lugosi’s Dead.

There were people here. That’s where the energy radiated from and, in one case, literally exploded.

The red-haired man sat at the table with his feet propped up on a chair. He was lounging

comfortably, holding a mug of what was presumably tea. That boy who had helped him with the

mattress earlier stood poised near the stove, wooden spoon in hand. They both focussed on a third man

in the doorway, who was in the middle of ranting and raving. His tall, chiselled build reminded me of

a soldier, and not having seen such an intimidating man in years, I took a wary step back.

He was younger than the red-head, but older than the other boy. He had dark hair, clipped short, and

dark brows that pulled together in a scowl. There was so much anger in him. He was clearly upset

about something. I was so taken aback, I didn’t have time to concentrate on his words before he turned

on his heel and marched off. He grumbled to himself as he left, and his residual energy lingered in the

air.

The boy at the stove took a deep breath. “Jesus,” he sighed.