“I’m thinking old school X-Files marathon. We can start right at the beginning. It’ll be great.”

“Can we do it another time? I've just remembered I've got something on.”

Hannah leaned away from me. “Family stuff, right?” Her voice was cold and each word had sharp edges.

“That's right.” I spoke carefully, as if the wrong word would bring a blade down.

“Don't worry about it.” Hannah turned her back on me and laid her lucky pencil next to her work book.

“So we'll do Thursday?”

“I said, don't worry about it. Don't worry about rearranging, or fitting me into your busy schedule. Just don't worry about it. Not that you ever do.”

I tugged her arm with my gloved hand, trying to get her to look at me. “We'll do Thursday, definitely.”

“No, we won't. I'm done.” Finally she raised her head and her eyes were red-rimmed. “Either you see me tonight, or we don’t hang out ever again.”

I swallowed. My hand seemed to throb under the glove. I couldn't think of any other way of getting to the truth about Justin's death. I had to join the V Club.

“I-I can't do tonight, Han.”

“Whatever.” She scooped up her things.

“What are you doing?”

“Moving.”

She stalked away from the table and the sunlight caught in her hair, turning it into a neon halo. Her lucky pencil rolled from her book and landed on the floor in front of her.

“Hannah, wait.” The whole class heard. Like vultures they rotated to watch as Hannah's foot came down with a crunch. She wobbled and tilted, then went crashing down, her books flying around her.

As I leaped up to help, she glowered at me with poisonous eyes. Her face was completely colourless. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

My breath caught as she dumped her bag by a spare seat on the table furthest from me, and started rearranging her things.

Laughter reverberated from the doorway; Tamsin and James had arrived.

Trembling, I sat back down. My legs felt like jelly and my chest ached. I ducked my head and caught sight of my gloved hand.

“I hate you, Justin Hargreaves,” I muttered.

20

HOW BAD COULD IT BE?

“Don't speak to me,” I snapped, glaring at the piece of paper in my hand. I'd copied the postcode from memory, and had got it wrong.

“Bad day at school, dear?”

“Seriously, Hargreaves, if you don't shut up...” I turned my glare up and down the street. It was a quiet residential road with a large modern church right in the middle.

“What, you'll kill me?” Still, he took a step to one side.

“I don't have to let you stay in my house.” I shoved him so hard he staggered. “And I'm more than happy to transfer the Mark to Tamsin bloody Harper.”

I swung back round, clutching the paper to my heaving chest. I wished I really did have the guts to Mark Tamsin; that would teach her.

After a couple of bitchy remarks she'd pretty much left Hannah alone for the rest of the day, turning all her vitriol on me. I hadn't realised how much Hannah's quiet presence gave me the strength to put up with her. Now I was on my own and my ears still burned.

Hannah would forgive me in a few days, she had to. Until then... I growled under my breath... until my friend came back, I'd focus on getting rid of Justin Hargreaves. Which meant Marking his killer so he could move on.

And that meant finding the V Club.

“Fine.” I exhaled noisily. “I'm lost. Where am I supposed to meet them?”

“Seriously – here?”

Justin shrugged. “See, you weren't lost. Where did you think you were heading?”

“Not a church hall.”

He steered me forward by my elbow. “We're a youth group.”

As we walked I peered around me, challenging the eyes of passing tourists and checking every group for outliers.

Justin shook my arm. “You aren’t going to get a second to stand for you if you keep shoving the weird down everyone’s throats.”

“I have to check for ghosts,” I hissed angrily.

“I’ll do it for you.”

I hesitated in my scan. “Really?” I whispered.

“Sure. I had a feeling about the old guy. I’d probably be able to ID any others, right?”

“I-I guess.”

“Do you trust me to do this for you?”

Did I? Justin had never liked me. He didn’t believe he was murdered and he didn’t particularly want to move on. This ghost had no incentive to help me find his killer. His only real motivation was that I’d threatened to Mark his girlfriend.

I swallowed. When I came to think about it, if the Darkness came for me, it probably wouldn’t bother Justin at all.

So if he saw another ghost, would he tell me?

I thought about how he’d fought the old guy to stop him from Marking me.

“Well?”

Reluctantly I made the decision. “Alright, but be alert and let me know if you see one of the dead. This kind of place attracts them.”

His grin widened. “You trust me.”

“Just look for the ghosts,” I hissed and strode up the steps into the church, eyes straight ahead for the first time in five years.

It was a Catholic church, I knew that much. It was called Saint Benedict’s and the sign on the door said the Priest was Father Harding and the Deacon, Don Lomas. I paused to savour the sound of those titles: Father, Deacon.

I looked up. It was a modern building, but even from the outside I could see that the windows were stained glass.

The door was ajar. I pushed it all the way open and stepped inside.

There was a bowl of water by the door and a notice-board that was full of newsletters, notes about the parish and information about charities. A letter from the Bishop was the centrepiece. A group of children were being confirmed in two weeks time and the choir practised on Tuesdays. Mrs Christophers was winner of the one hundred club this month.

To my left a wooden bookcase contained hymnbooks. I imagined a line of people trailing past, each taking a book before going through the glass doors in front of them. I blinked and looked away. I was spending too much time taking in sights that I normally skipped over in my search for the dead.

There was another door, a wooden door, to my right. I assumed I would have to go that way, but first… I wanted to see.

I moved towards the glass doors. The early evening sun was catching the windows just right and rainbows painted the pale wooden pews and spilled on the floor like oil on water.

A statue of the Virgin Mary opened her hands to me above a vase of lilies. My shoulders started to loosen and I allowed my eyes to skim lazily towards the altar. It was covered with a gold edged cloth that would have been white, but the light made it so many colours I couldn’t even tell what picture the window was supposed to be casting. I let my gaze follow the fractured image to the crucified man hanging above the altar.

Like the mummy in the museum this was one of the dead that couldn’t bother me. He should have been in agony, I’d heard crucifixion was a horrible death, but whoever had carved the image had given him a loving smile. My hand was suddenly hot inside the glove and I rubbed it on my trousers.

For the first time I wondered what would happen to Justin when he passed over.

“What’re you doing here?” The drawl could only belong to one person. My eye twitched and I turned. All thoughts of kindness fled.

But I needed someone to second me. “I’m here for the V club, Tamsin. Pete’s proposing me. He didn’t tell you?”

“Harley said he was proposing someone.” She snorted. “What a waste of my time. I had to come all the way over town to get here and now I’ll just have to turn around and head home again.” She tapped her nails thoughtfully on the glass. They made a snick-snick sound, like claws. “Maybe we’ll go out for a Chinky or something, when you’ve been sent on your way.” She tossed her blonde waves. “Oh sorry, was that offensive?” she sneered. “What was Pete thinking?”