Buster woke up feeling sore all over. He wondered briefly if he’d gotten beat up again at a dodgy job. But then it all came crashing back – the movie, the drive, him triggering Gideon into a full-moon state, getting home, that strange need that took over everything else, the kiss...and then nothing. He groaned and opened his eyes, feeling the covers of Gideon’s bed slide all over his naked body. Gideon himself was sitting up, the covers pooling around his knees and waist. He was chewing his thumb, his green eyes nervous and worried. He didn’t even glance down at Buster when he stirred and Buster had the sinking, cold feeling that there was a lot of regret going through Gideon. They’d screwed up, again. Buster rolled onto his side, his back to Gideon. He was doing what he best did with all his problems: running away from them. ‘’It’s fifty.’’ ‘’What?’’ Gideon glanced down at Buster, curling in the covers, wanting to disappear. ‘’Fifty quid. For

Jed whistled, impressed, ‘’you’ve really outdone yourselves this time.’’ The rolling hills, between the city and the forest, were blazing with light and blasting with music. Art and Jamie, on either side of Jed, admired the view with unhidden pride. Their ‘faerie rave’ was by far their most successful rave and they had been organising those for a week and a half straight. The hills were overtaken by party-goers in bright clothes; boys in neon jackets and masks and girls with glitter and flower crowns. The Crypt’s gear had been put to good use. The grass and trees danced with neon lights and speakers pulsed music over the open space. There were small bonfires started here and there, surrounded with bricks and rocks for safety. They had been a bitch to build for Jamie and Art but it was worth it for the effect. From where the three of them stood, the whole thing looked like some wild dance of the faerie hunt. ‘’Right,’’ Jamie said, ‘’time to get to work.’’ They

Diego slipped into the police station’s filing room with his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. It was dim here, with only a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. He walked down the rows upon rows of labelled plastic boxes, until he reached ‘R’. He pulled out the box, as quietly as he could, found DeeDee’s file and yanked it out. It was dull yellow, with her name printed in imposing black letters. He flipped it open. He was greeted with the now-familiar list of DeeDee’s run-ins with the police. Arrested for some protests in the 50s and 70s, drug records...she even served time for battery. Diego pulled out the piece of paper from her file and quickly replaced it with the one he’d printed the night before – almost identical, except the charge at the bottom was for ‘excessive marihuana smoking in public’, not growing and supplying, of weed or anything else. To make sure his lie wouldn’t be caught out, Diego had Raphael move DeeDee’s van to a more remote location fo

On the evening of the full moon, a spring storm was raging. In Ellie’s small apartment that she now owned instead of her impressive condo, Val sat on the arm of the armchair in the bedroom, looking out of the window. The full moon wasn’t visible, hidden by steely grey clouds. Rain was coming down hard, snaking down the windowpanes, and there was a distant echo of thunder. There was something calming about the storm. Val sat in the bedroom, not bothering to turn the light on, in one of Ellie’s warm, 100% cashmere sweaters and her own ripped jeans. Her feet dangled just above the floor. She was...relaxed. She couldn’t remember the last time she truly was relaxed. Ellie walked into the bedroom, carrying a mug of tea, made with half cold-water, half hot-water, like Val liked, so she could drink it straight away, ‘’admiring the rain?’’ Ellie asked, slipping the cup into Val’s hand and collapsing into the armchair

My sweetest Gus,I miss you. I miss you so freaking much. I can’t even tell you just how much. I don’t think that big of a number has been invented yet. I hope you miss me that much, too. I mean, I don’t! I hope you miss me, but I also hope that you’re happy. I got your letter this morning and could barely get through the day without thinking of what to write to you. I got shouted at by my commander during drills, and I spaced out so much during cooking duty that I got smacked upside the head. Now I’m sitting in my bunk, at the desk, and writing this by candlelight. It’s late. This base is so huge, but it gets so quiet at night. Discipline, I suppose. I’m going out into town to drink with the boys tomorrow; we have leave for a couple hours, so I’ll mail this letter then. I’ll probably get drunk and whine about how much I love you again. They’re sta