There was no small amount of apprehension in Evie's eyes as Charlotte and I stepped into the room a few minutes later. The trip from one bedroom to the other had only been delayed by my need to check to ensure Toussant hadn't passed out on me. I read somewhere that seventy-two hours of sleep deprivation produced the same symptoms as the early stages of psychosis. My captive had recently surpassed ninety. His breathing had taken on a long, drawn-out, shallow timbre like his lungs were ratting just from the exertion of having to work. But if there was one thing more immediate than Toussant's need to sleep, I imagined, it was the pain. There was a sharp gasp from his lips as I jabbed the toe of my shoe into the burned, peeling flesh. The skin on his lower extremities looked like it was made of melted candle wax which had quickly and unevenly reformed, loosely clinging to the bone and muscle beneath but could be pulled free with little more than a tug.

"Yup, he's awake."

And then, I turned back to the task of introducing Charlotte to Evie. My closest friend had watched the macabre display with about as much compassion as I felt. Absolutely zero. For reasons which I couldn't adequately explain, I was surprisingly proud of her for that. Perhaps it was a knowledge that she would see this thing through to the end; perhaps it was because I knew that she would do whatever it took to see the job done - or at least allow me to. But I was also self-aware enough to know that maybe, just maybe, if she could excuse my behavior, then so could I. As long as she didn't turn away in disgust, I hadn't turned into the same animal I was hunting. At that moment, however, the part of me even considering the idea that my actions were crossing a line was incomprehensibly small.

Charlotte stepped into Evie's room with all of the grace, composure, and confidence I had come to expect from her. Evie rose to her feet. After hearing the wails, the sobs, and the heartbreak coming through the wall for the last half a day, she was doubtlessly under no illusions as to who this beautiful woman was. She was, in a very literal way, her judge and jury.

"Charlotte, this is Evelyn, Evie for short. Evie, this is Charlotte," I said coldly and calmly as I closed the door behind me. Evie couldn't have known it, but she had just passed a threshold. There was no going back now. She was either going to leave this room alive and well. Or she wouldn't.

Charlotte smiled one of those gloriously disarming smiles. "Evie, it's very nice to meet you. Please, sit down."

Evie returned the smile nervously and lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. Her fingers worked nervously against the surprisingly tidy sheets. "Please," she whimpered. "I just want to go home."

"I know," Charlotte said, still holding the smile as she pulled a simple wooden chair from its place against the wall, set it down in front of Evie, and sat on it. "I know you are frightened, and you are probably very confused about this whole situation."

"I am!" Evie almost sobbed, tears building in her eyes at the faintest hope that there may have been a new ally in the room. "I don't know anything. I don't know what is going on. All I know is that some men grabbed me, and then Pete rescued me, but they killed... someone... his friend, and now he... he thinks I am involved. But I'm not; I swear I'm not."

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," Charlotte whispered, calming the blonde, who was starting to get a little hysterical. "Evie, I want you to understand something. Pete has told me everything that has happened, but the people he is dealing with are...." She paused for a few moments, apparently trying to think of the right word. "Well, they're evil! There is no other way to explain it. We are talking about people who make the Nazis look reasonable. But he was wrong about something...."

I cocked my head to the side, listening carefully.

"He told you that you were either guilty or you were innocent. I'm afraid it isn't quite that simple. The truth is that you are either guilty or someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make you look like you are. Now Pete has been sucked into this war, it's sort of how he met me, and in a very short time, two people who were very important to him have been killed. And both of them really were innocent."

Evie cast a sympathetic glance at me.

"Now, Pete is an incredibly powerful man," Charlotte went on. "I don't think you are ever really going to understand what that means, but for the purposes of this explanation, let's just say he is a warrior who scares the shit out of our enemy. Pete is a blunt-force weapon; he is brute-strength, and he is far from subtle. But, to his credit, he has shown a remarkable amount of restraint when it comes to you. I will be honest, I am not sure many other people in his position would have. It may not be much, but the fact that you are alive for us to have this conversation, for us to find the truth, should show you how much he thinks of you. He really does want you to be innocent."

Evie took a deep breath and nodded.

"I want you to close your eyes." The tears started flowing again, and Evie's hands resumed worrying the sheets. A desperate, pleading look washed over her face. She looked like a woman who knew she was about to be executed. "Evie, calm down," Charlotte whispered. "Nothing is going to happen to you. It's an exercise to help you remember, that's all. As long as you tell us the truth, the whole truth, nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise."

Evie took another deep breath and slowly closed her eyes.

"You were right," her voice sounded in my mind. "She isn't human. I can't get a read on her at all. Do you have a way to use that fancy computer of yours?"

"Always," I answered levelly.

"Okay, great. I want you, Jeeves, and your computer to check everything she says. If you need to ask a question, tell me, and I will ask it. Without getting into her mind, we are going to have to do this the old-fashioned way."

"Let's start at the beginning," Charlotte said calmly and softly after a few moments' pause. "I want you to tell me what you were doing before all of this started. Were you at home?"

"Yes," Evie nodded. "I was putting the final touches to my project for college. I was actually thinking about Pete; he was the only person who seemed to understand it."

"Good, you're doing good. Then what happened?"

"I..." Evie frowned. "I heard a noise out my window. I went to see what it was. It sounded like breaking glass, and I wanted to make sure it wasn't Lori's car."

"Lori has gone home for Christmas, right?"

"Yes, she has taken Jimmy to meet her parents."

"Then why would her car be outside?"

"She didn't want to drive that far. They took the train."

"Jeeves?"

"Confirmed, Sir. Train tickets were bought with Jimmy's bank card, and security footage shows them boarding the train."

I nodded to Charlotte.

"Okay. What did you see when you looked outside?"

"Nothing, it was too dark. Someone broke the street light outside the apartment weeks ago, and it hasn't been fixed yet. It was pitch black. I went to put my shoes on to go and check."

"And what did you see when you went outside?"

Evie frowned again. "I... I didn't make it outside. I think I... Everything is fuzzy," Charlotte was about to speak again when Evie stiffened. "There was someone in the apartment!"

"You heard them?"

"No, I turned around to get my shoes, and they were just there, standing right behind me!"

"They? How many men were there, Evie?"

"They sprayed something in my face! God, it burned!"

"Slow down; you are safe here. How many men were there?"

"Umm, I don't... three, I think, I don't know. It happened so fast."

"Jeeves?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. There is no evidence of three men being near her apartment on the night in question. Although I can confirm multiple calls made to the town council from residents of the street complaining about the broken street light. And there does appear to be some damage to Lori's vehicle."

I cast a look at Charlotte and shook my head, relaying what Jeeves had told me. Charlotte sighed but then frowned. I could feel the thoughts being processed inside her mind. "Evie. When did this happen?"

"What do you mean? It was the night Pete rescued me."

"Christmas Eve?"

"What? No. Christmas Eve is not until Tuesday... I've been here three nights, so today is...." She frowned again. "Monday? Christmas Eve is tomorrow. This was Friday night."

"Evie. Today is the 27th. Pete rescued you on Christmas Eve."

"What? No, that impos... It was Friday night!"

"Sir. Cameras show three men loading a large bag into a van at 10.37pm at the rear of Evie's property on Friday night. It could very easily contain Evie."

"What? How the fuck did we miss that?!"

"They had already had her for three days before we even started looking. There was no record of her leaving her house in the days leading up to the search, just her entering her home on Friday afternoon and then not leaving. The computer was looking for HER face, and she never left, nor had there been any men arriving and taking her up to a day before that. We didn't account for men breaking into her apartment while they still appeared to be looking for you."

"But that means..."

"Yes, Sir. They already had Evie and possibly the information about Becky and Philippa and then made it look like they were still searching for you to keep you where you were!"

"Fuck! Infallible be damned. Right, I need a headcount. I want eyes on EVERYONE! I need to know if there is anyone else still missing!"

"Already done, sir. Everyone else has been accounted for and has been monitored since the abductions became known."

"Are you sure this time?"

"Yes, Sir. None of the people you would consider important in your life are in any obvious danger."

I relayed the information to Charlotte.

"So they knocked her out and kept her that way for four days?" She asked wearily. "That doesn't make sense either."

"A lot of this doesn't make sense."

"Evie, I want you to think carefully. They sprayed something in your face. What happened then?"

"It burned!" she whimpered again. "It felt like my eyes were on fire. It looked like a deodorant can, but," She frowned for a second. "But everything went dark and... Jesus, what the hell did they do to me?"

My ears pricked up; Charlotte noticed it too. Our eyes met with the same mutual question.

"That can't be a fucking coincidence!" I growled, images of the can used by Sterling to knock me out on the street before his attack on my mind washed through my head. That had looked like a deodorant can to me, too. Now that I thought about it; my memory was fuzzy about the whole thing as well. I clearly remembered him spraying me, large parts of the illusion, and the whole fight with him were crystal clear, but I couldn't for the life of me remember where we were when I had left the mindscape after my victory. In fact, the first thing I remembered about the real world after that whole encounter was sitting in my apartment with Sterling on the floor in the kitchen. I had no idea how I got him there, but I seemed to know that I hadn't broken free of the illusion in my apartment. That had happened somewhere else!

All of these thoughts were communicated to Charlotte as quickly as I was thinking of them. "Fuck, Pete. What the hell is going on? Sterling is gone. He is out of the picture! He couldn't have done this!"

My eyes closed with a groan, "No, he isn't. His mind is with the fucking Conclave! It can't have been Sterling, I practically destroyed his mind's link to his body, but I left his memories wide open to prove his guilt. All someone would have had to do is dig around to find out how to make that spray stuff! FUCK!"

"No, wait. This could be good. The higher powers wouldn't have just let anyone look into his mind. They should know who looked at it."

"Except the thousand or so people in the Cathedral when I oh-so-dramatically dumped him at the feet of the Archon. I would bet that ALL of those people looked!"

"Jesus. This is so fucked!" It was Charlotte's turn to curse. "There HAS to be a traitor in the Conclave, more than just a mole. The only way any of this works is if these Royal fuckers have an Evo actively working with them. Pete, I'm not going to lie; I think Evie might be telling the truth."

"You might be right. But none of this explains why she was unhurt or hidden so easily."

"Actually, it does. If she was still unconscious, or at least as out of it as you were when you had a face full of that stuff, they probably just locked her away until she woke up, but you attacked before they had a chance."

"Evie, I want you to think about the next time you woke up, the furthest thing back before Pete rescued you" Charlotte asked before waiting for my answer.

"I..." There was another frown. "I smelled smoke. There were shouts and screams and lots of banging. I think it was the banging that woke me up."

Charlotte looked over to me with an arched eyebrow, silently asking the question. I was pinching the bridge of my nose but nodded. Those bangs could easily have come from the gunshots, the catwalk being ripped off, the building being blown apart by the energy bolt or any number of things during the fight with Toussant and his men. They had stashed her somewhere out of the way, and I had simply turned up to rescue Becky before they could do anything about Evie.

"Okay, Evie," Charlotte said after a short pause. "You can open your eyes now."

There was no small amount of shock on her face when she opened her eyes and flicked them nervously between Charlotte and me. Nobody needed to have powers to translate the look of frustration on my face, nor the look of concern on Charlotte's. "I don't know anything else; I swear I don't," Evie pleaded, apparently not garnering any confidence from what she saw on our faces.

Charlotte looked back at her and smiled. "It's okay. We believe you."

"You do?"

Charlotte smiled again and nodded.

"I... I can go home?"

"Evie, I don't think that is a good idea," Charlotte said slowly.

"But why? I answered all of your questions."

"I know you did," Charlotte said reassuringly. "It's not because of you. If you are telling the truth - and we believe that you are - that means that a few of these people are still out there, and they know where you live."

Evie's face drained of color in an instant. "But... I don't know anything about you either... clearly," she gestured to me. "I'm not part of this."

"Neither was Becky," I said simply. "And they killed her anyway. Her only crime was knowing me... you know me, and they know that. Otherwise, they wouldn't have taken you in the first place."

Evie was silent for a long moment before she started sobbing quietly. "What am I going to do?"

"You are going to stay here, where it's safe, until we know that you will be okay at home," Charlotte smiled softly. "I know. It's not ideal, and I really am sorry about that, but...."

Evie sniffed, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and nodded. "I understand," she said when it became clear that Charlotte couldn't finish the sentence. "You want to make sure I don't end up like Becky." She froze for a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to come out like that. I just... I don't understand what is going on, and I'm scared." Her whole body seemed to sag as she resigned herself to the inevitable.

Charlotte cast a glance at me. I took a deep breath and nodded. She didn't need to project her thoughts to mine to ask the question. We both knew what was coming next.

"Evie, honey," Charlotte said softly. "There is something else we need to talk about."

Evie raised her eyes cautiously. Charlotte's smile was still as disarming and reassuring as it had been when she first entered the room. I could see the bedside manner that made her such a great nurse. But now she was looking at Evie with an air of curiosity.

"I'm not sure how to say this. But I don't think you are... human."

"What?" Evie's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Can I take your hand?" Charlotte asked, holding out hers.

Evie glanced down at it, shot a quick look at me, then slowly and tentatively reached her hand for Charlotte's.

********

The hours marched on in the inexorable way they always have, as Charlotte told Evie everything. She told her about the Evos; she told her about our powers, our bunkers, our cities, and our ongoing war with the Inquisitors. She told her about the mindscape and our ability to see inside the minds of normal humans. Evie, for the most part, sat and listened in silence. Only asking the odd question, but otherwise just taking it all in. I imagine that Charlotte was using the same calming technique that Marco had used when he had awoken me, because the more I listened to all of it, the more I realized how utterly ridiculous all of this would sound to the average person. Yet Evie was just listening.

"You see," Charlotte explained. "When people like Pete or I look into the mind of a normal human, we see an avatar of them standing in the middle of a field. What we are seeing is an avatar of how that person sees themselves. Like their own mental picture of who they are. But, in humans, that avatar doesn't move; it doesn't speak unless we ask it something. It just stands there. You are different."

"I am?"

"Yes, It's actually quite beautiful," Charlotte smiled. Evie beamed, looking over at me for a moment. I nodded in agreement. "With you, you are responsive; you are sitting around a campfire. It is so peaceful and serene. You look up at us, and you communicate. But what is truly remarkable about your mind is that we cannot read it at all unless we are touching you." Both of them glanced down at their joined hands. "That is why Pete lost you when you were taken. With everyone else he cares about, he could see their minds, even from hundreds of miles away. He knew if they were in trouble or not, but with you, he has never been able to see you unless he was physically touching you. He saw Becky's mind, he felt her fear and her pain, he followed her to that warehouse and found you. The last person he expected to be there."

"That... That must have been horrible," Evie whispered. "Could you still feel her when..."

"When she died?"

I nodded, clenching my jaw in preparation for the hollowing pit of grief that abjectly failed to appear.

"I'm sorry, Pete. I can't even imagine what that must have been like."

I nodded again. I wanted to give her something of a reassuring smile, but my face refused to respond.

"The thing is, Evie," Charlotte went on. "Neither of us has ever seen anything like your mind before. Pete is quite new to all of this, but I have been this way most of my life; your mind is much more like ours than it is like a human."

"You think I'm like you?"

"I don't know," Charlotte answered honestly, her voice still soft and soothing. "What can you tell me about your birth or your mother when she was carrying you?"

Evie opened her mouth to speak but frowned. "Actually, it wasn't a good pregnancy. I was conceived on my parent's honeymoon when they were on Safari in Kenya. She caught Malaria or something like that. I was actually supposed to be a twin, but my sister didn't make it. She died before going to term, and I had to be delivered prematurely. I spent the first four months of my life in an incubator. My mom calls me her little miracle because none of the doctors thought I would survive, at least not without severe disabilities."

I straightened up, listening intently. A memory of a passing comment flickered in my mind. "What does Lori call you?" I asked.

"Evelyn," She squinted.

"No, she said something about having a nickname for you."

Evie scrunched up her face. "I mean, she used to think I was a fairy when we were younger. But she hasn't called me that for years."

Charlotte tilted her head to the side. "Why did she call you that?"

"She thought I was magic. She thought I was a fairy stranded in the world of normal people. She has always had an active imagination." Charlotte held her eye, all of us knowing there was more to the story than that. Evie sighed. "Okay, I am a really good judge of character."

Charlotte's smile grew a little wider as she started to translate the cryptic answer. "You can tell things about people, can't you?"

Evie nodded. "Almost everyone," She looked over at me again.

"Can you make them do things?" My friend asked the suddenly embarrassed looking blonde.

"No, of course not. Wait, can you?"

"Not really. Well, sort of," Charlotte answered carefully. "With us, it is more like influencing someone, planting an idea. We can't make them do something, but we can usually make humans think that something was their idea, and they do it. Nothing extreme, though. We couldn't get a human to do something outside their core nature; we couldn't make them kill themselves, for example."

Evie's eyes shot open. "Licking the rim!"

Charlotte choked on her own tongue. "Sorry?"

"The night I first met Pete after his accident, I had this really weird and overwhelming urge to lick the rim of my glass! That was you, wasn't it?" Evie looked at me.

I nodded.

Charlotte giggled. "Well, compared to what he could have made you do, that is pretty tame."

"Wait," Evie frowned again. "Was... the rest of that night something you made me do as well?"

Charlotte answered before I could. "Did you enjoy it?" Evie nodded slowly. "Then it wasn't him. Technically, Pete is powerful enough to make you do almost anything, but it is impossible for him to make you enjoy it. You already liked him before the accident, didn't you?" Evie nodded again, blushing slightly. "Then that was all you, honey. Well, aside from the urge to lick the glass."

I managed to hide the frown. Either I was capable of much more than Charlotte was, or she wasn't being entirely truthful. Evie would have taken a plastic Santa to bed and fucked the shit out of it that night after all the manipulations I had wound into her mind. It was one of the reasons I didn't entirely trust my relationship with Evie. How much faith could you put into a relationship with someone who had been made to feel something for you?

Evie nodded at the reassurance, casting another blushing glance my way. "So what happens now?" she asked nervously as she turned her attention back to Charlotte. "Do I become like you?"

Charlotte opened her mouth to answer but frowned instead. "Hmmm, that's actually a really good question. I honestly have no idea. You see, our kind has people that do that sort of thing. It's called an awakening, it unlocks your mind for you to use. But almost everyone goes through it around the onset of puberty. In fact, as far as we know, Pete is the only person who has ever been awakened during adulthood. I'm not sure if unlocking your mind now is even possible, but even if it was, I don't have the first idea how to do it."

Evie nodded, looking more than a little disappointed, but stayed as silent as the rest of us as she mulled things over in her mind. The stillness echoed around the room for almost five minutes before she spoke again. "How bad was the crash?" she asked me. "I mean, if this whole thing is caused due to prenatal illnesses, then I'm guessing Pete was like me until the crash. It must have been pretty bad for him to go from this." she gestured to herself "... to that."

Charlotte looked over to me and sighed before looking back to Evie. "I was actually one of his nurses, and so was Becky. That is how we met. It was... I suppose there is no point downplaying it. He would have died several times over if it wasn't for his powers. He would never have walked again, even if he had survived, and would have been looking at massive amounts of brain damage either way. In all honesty, we have no idea why he is so powerful, but you're right. That could be part of it."

"It just seems odd, is all."

"What does?"

"Well, It's pretty clear that those people found me and targeted me because of my relationship with Pete, but if you can sense I am different, then so could this traitor you were talking about. If that traitor could detect me, then maybe he detected Pete before the accident. I'm just wondering if it was an accident at all. Maybe they were planning on doing to me what they did to him. Sorry, it was just a thought."

Evie frowned at the utterly astonished look on Charlotte's pale face. "I'm... I'm guessing that is not something you had considered before," she said slowly.

Charlotte turned to me. I was rubbing my temples as I met her gaze. A half-shrug, pursed lips, and a slow shake of my head were all I could manage to communicate how far in over my head I seemed to be. If Evie was right, this whole ordeal had been orchestrated since the beginning. But by whom?

"We have no way of knowing either way," I sighed, pressing my head back against the door. "But if you are right, that puts you in even more danger."

"What can I do to help?" She asked tentatively. "I can't just sit here and wait to see what happens. If they wanted me to be involved so badly, then I am fighting!"

Charlotte huffed out a dry laugh. "I can see why you liked her."

"That man outside," Evie pressed. "Do you think he knows anything?"

"Maybe," Charlotte asked. "But he would never tell us, even if he did."

"You're going to torture him, aren't you? To get the truth out of him."

"What makes you say that?" Charlotte asked, surprised by the apparent resolve in Evie's young eyes.

"Well, it's not much of a leap considering what I walked in on the other night."

Charlotte frowned. "What did you walk in on the other night?"

"I was nailing him to the chair," I answered for Evie.

"He's nailed to it?"

"Yup."

Charlotte snorted. "Nice."

"That's a yes, isn't it?" Evie asked again.

"No. Not really," I replied again. "At least not in the way you are thinking. I am going to break his mind, then make him give us the answers."

"That... somehow sounds worse."

"Oh, it will be."

"Evie, you don't need to be a part of this," Charlotte cautioned. "There are some nightmares that will never go away."

"I'm already part of this," she said, straightening her shoulders and holding Charlotte's gaze. "And if I'm in, then I'm in all the way. They have ruined my life. I am never going to be able to feel safe again unless I fight for it."

"You don't need to make a decision about that now, and being involved doesn't mean you have to watch that." Charlotte nodded.

"Are you going to watch it?"

"He killed one of my closest friends," Charlotte answered firmly. "I owe it to her to see justice served."

"Then I am going to be there too," The blonde on the bed asserted. "I need it as well."

"Well, nothing is going to be happening tonight," I said, pulling myself away from the door. "It's too late now, and it's been a long day for both of you. Charlotte, you can have the room next door. Try to get some rest, both of you."

"Where are you sleeping?" Charlotte asked. I just cast her a look. "You haven't slept since the warehouse, have you." I shook my head.

"Toussant needs to be kept awake," I said simply. "And I need to prepare myself."

Charlotte sighed and then nodded. "Okay, Well, if Evie doesn't mind, I will stay here a little longer to get to know her, then I will come to see you before calling it a night."

I nodded with the best impression of a smile I could muster, wished them both goodnight, and then stepped out of the room.

********

Mary shivered again as the horrifying memories of Christmas Eve once again flashed through her mind. She had held that knife so tightly; she had been so prepared to use it. More than eight decades on this earth, and she had never thought herself capable of the sort of violence she had been ready to commit that night.

She looked over at the large double bed. Her darling Stan was resting against the headboard, his head lolled to the side as he dozed. Their children were all curled up on the bed around him. Well, not their son. He had canceled plans to attend the traditional family Christmas at home. At first, she had been heartbroken about that, but now she was just grateful. At least one member of her family wouldn't have to live with the nightmares of what happened. Not like the little ones. She looked at them, sleeping peacefully in their parents' arms, but it was only a matter of time before one of them woke up screaming from the nightmares of masked men and ruined childhoods.

Days of broken sleep had led the family to catch up on rest whenever they could. But the children could not bear to be separated from any of the adults for even the briefest of moments.

The man and the woman downstairs had been kind and gracious. Fiona and Jerry, they had called themselves, tried to stay out of the way, but their presence alone was more than enough of a reminder for the entire family to avoid them. They were still waiting for Pete. The mysterious man who had saved them, she couldn't imagine why they were waiting for him. Still, a not insignificant part of her felt safer with them around.

She looked out of her bedroom window and into the darkness. It wasn't late. It was barely 9pm, but the sun gave way to the night early at this time of year. But she could make out a shadow of movement slowly making its way up the garden path. She squinted into the darkness and felt that pit of fear starting to rise in her chest.

Until the doorbell rang.

The family woke with a start, wide-eyed and frantically looking around at each other, making sure everyone was accounted for before the panic set in. The bedroom door opened, and Fiona slid her head through the gap. "He's here," she smiled reassuringly. "He's asked that you meet him downstairs."

Mary nodded mutely and cast a look back at Stan. Her husband, having spoken to the man before she was allowed back into the house, had been impressed with him. But he hadn't seen what she had. Peering through the wind-swept, rain-lashed window of the car, barely having the courage to peek her eyes over the rim of the door and watching as he so effortlessly butchered their attackers. She was glad he did. She was under no illusion what would have happened if he hadn't, but there was no denying that this Pete character was an unbelievably dangerous man. She couldn't decide how she felt about him being around her family.

It didn't take the adults long to corral the younger generation out of the master bedroom and down the stairs. Mary and Stan had both seen the carnage that had been left of the front hall after the attack. The bullet holes, the blood coagulating on the floor and sprayed onto the walls... the bodies. But now, looking around, you would never tell that anything had happened. Every hole had been filled, every wall had been repapered, every step of the staircase and every wooden pillar of its banister had been repainted and revarnished. Even Stan's old recliner, where the last body had been left, had been replaced to look almost exactly the same as it always had done. The only sign that anything had ever happened in the hallway of their family home was the slight smell of paint.

The man she knew as Pete was waiting by the front door. Fiona and Jerry were standing on either side of him. But he looked different. Haggard and drawn, his eyes looked haunted, yet he still managed a smile as he saw them coming down the stairs.

"Hello, Mary," his voice almost croaked. "How are you?"

"We are safe," She answered, "Thanks to you. Did you manage to get to your friend?" His smile faltered, and he slowly shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Mary," he nodded. The genuine tone of his voice was at complete odds with the memories of what he did that night. "For what it is worth, I think if she were given the choice between her death and yours, she would have changed nothing."

"That is no choice anyone should have to make," Stan said from behind her. "You saved our family, son. We owe you everything."

"You owe me nothing," the man smiled again. "You all looked after each other, as I'm sure you will keep doing."

"Are my parents safe now?" Sophie, her eldest daughter, asked. Pete nodded reassuringly.

"Mary, I wanted to thank you," He said after the family breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Thank me? For what?"

"You getting to me as fast as you did let me save another person who had been taken. I couldn't save both, but because of you, I managed to save one of them."

"Oh, I am so glad to hear that, But really, you shouldn't thank me."

"You're right," he answered. "I shouldn't." He leaned to his side and whispered something to Jerry, who nodded in turn and led Fiona out of the house. "I shouldn't have to thank you because none of this should ever have happened to you. So I am here to make it better."

"How?"

Pete just smiled and took a breath. "Goodbye, Mary."

Her vision wobbled a little, lightheadedness washing over her as her view of the man blurred and then faded. She was jerked alert again by a shoulder, almost knocking her down the stairs as one of the giggling, playful grandkids raced past her, chased by the other two.

"What have I told you about running down the stairs?!" Sophie yelled from behind her. "You almost knocked Grandma over, you little rascals!"

Stan chuckled, kissing his wife on the cheek as he passed her. "You okay, love?"

"Hmm?" she answered. "Oh yes, just a little tired. I think I might have overdone it this Christmas."

"Well, it was a resounding success, as are all your Christmas', Mama," Sophie smiled as she passed her parents before ducking into the kitchen to make tea.

Mary chuckled, looking around the house she had called home for decades. Memories of the flawless Christmas dinner, the laughter of the little ones, the heaps of wrapping paper, the gasps of gleeful surprise, memories of the perfect Christmas washed over her as she watched Stan drop into his chair with a sigh, only to be swamped by the grandkids.

"Get off your Grandad!" Sophie's voice echoed from the kitchen with a laugh. "He's not a trampoline. If you keep jumping on him like that, he is going to pop!"

Her darling little ones all giggled riotously as Stan used his hands to simulate his belly exploding.

Mary chuckled again and descended the last few steps, stopping to peer out of the window next to the door in time to watch a car pulling away and heading out into the night.

All in all, this Christmas had been about as good as it could have been. Now she could look forward to a quiet new year and a glass of sherry with Stan at midnight. She frowned suddenly, looking around the front hall of her house - wondering if the kids had spilled something - before she shrugged it off.

"Everything alright, wife?" Stan called over.

"Yeah, everything is fine. For a moment, I thought I could smell paint."