IF HE WERE ANYONE ELSE, HE might have jumped, he might have panicked. As it was, Vex could see very well in the dark, and knew exactly who it was.

"Christ, Corey. What are you doing?"

Corey stepped forward into the back room, the glow from the moon outside falling on his pale features. In this light, his hair appeared silvery, his skin almost luminescent. His grey eyes shone, illuminated, but only weakly.

"How the hell did you get into my house?" Vex demanded. "This door was locked."

Corey ignored the question. Softly, angrily, he said, "What did you do to me, Vex?"

This nonsense again. Vex pushed past him and stomped back up the hall.

Corey followed. "You want to know how I got through your locked door?" he asked loudly. "So would I."

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" In the kitchen, Vex tucked his knife back into its sheath and turned on the tap to resume rinsing his dinner bowl. If Corey noticed the knife, he didn't think to mention it. It was a rough neighbourhood, and weapons were to be expected.

"Because you did this to me."

"I didn't do shit to you. We had this conversation on Sunday."

"Yes, and you lied the whole way through it! I'm not an idiot."

"Could've fooled me."

Corey leaned forward and roughly wrenched the tap handle. The water shut off with a squeal. "Listen to me. I'm not right. I need help."

Vex turned to him. "If you're unwell, go to a doctor."

"I know you know what you did."

"Which is?"

"I don't know!" Corey threw up his hands. "All I remember is being in the spare room at my house Saturday night, and then, next thing I know, party's over, it's early Sunday morning, and I feel like shit, like someone's yanked out all my organs and shoved them back the wrong way round."

"Sounds like quite the hangover."

Corey punched him.

Vex crashed into the kitchen bench, plates and cutlery clanging behind him. The microwave beeped where his elbow hit it. He got his feet back under him and wiped his nose, leaving a stripe of scarlet on his hand. Ally's right, he thought sullenly.

"I know you're pissed about what I said at school, but your idea of getting even is fucked." Suddenly, Corey's eyes were sparkling. His voice wobbled. "Tell me what's going on. Now."

"Corey," Vex said calmly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, the one not marked with blood. "I haven't done anything to you. You're fine."

"The backdoor–"

"I must have left it unlocked."

"But the–"

"Corey," he said again, firmly this time. Vex could see he was unravelling, tripping over real and unreal in his haste to reach some iota of truth. He was confused; all he needed was a little reassurance that he was being ridiculous, that this was all a bad dream. "Go home. Get some sleep. I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning."

Corey stared at him. "What happened Saturday night, Vex?"

Vex sighed. "I knocked you around a bit. The usual thing, you know? You must have had too much to drink beforehand to remember it." He locked eyes with the boy. "I swear I didn't hurt you – badly, that is."

When Corey didn't say anything, Vex stepped back and laughed. "Just you wait, tomorrow morning you'll wake up and feel like a real idiot for freaking out so bad."

And that did it. Corey's posture relaxed, his shoulders slumping, an exhale at last knocking apart his lips. "Fuck," he said, rubbing both hands over his face. "Fuck, I'm a mess. I'm sorry, man, the punching thing. That was bad form. I–"

"Look, hey, don't worry about it. Just get some sleep, okay? You were even starting to wig me out a little there."

Corey laughed softly, scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." He shook his head. "I'll – I'll see myself out. Sorry again, man."

He'd just opened the front door when Vex came into the entrance hall after him. "Oh, and when you do wake up feeling better tomorrow, get your dog in line, please. I have Deacon to thank for the face."

Corey looked at Vex and blinked, as if noticing the bruising for the first time. "I'll make sure of it." Then he closed the door behind him.

Vex waited until he heard the growl of an engine in the street, waited until the sound coursed away in nothingness. Then, with the same silent gait from earlier, he climbed up the stairs and into the second story of the Victorian. It boasted a tight carpeted hallway running parallel to the staircase, off which branched three bedrooms, a compact study, and a bathroom. Just as downstairs, the upper floor was kept in darkness, the lights off. Vex navigated the dark easily, and took a right towards the end of the hall, stepping into the cold-tiled bathroom.

There, at last, he switched on a light.

The light was spat immediately back at him, bouncing off the square white tiles. The room was not overly large, containing enough space for a bath, shower and sink, but no toilet. It didn't matter. There was a toilet out back behind the old scullery. The only problem was you had to go outside to get to it – a particularly unpleasant experience, especially at two in the morning in the dead of winter.

Vex took three steps into the space – about as many as you could take – and dropped to his knees. Upon first glance, the eye could be tricked into thinking there was nothing special about the room. There was a strange, dark grout between the tiles, sure, and the mirror over the sink was speckled with black dots, but everything else was standard, normal, shampoo bottles in the shower, soap dispenser by the sink, flattened green mat on the floor. Everything was normal, that was, until you looked in the tub.

Before Vex, the bathtub, white and set apart from the wall, standing on two brass feet, was filled almost to the brim with black water. It was deathly still and impenetrably dark, so dark it looked less like water and more like oil.

Vex didn't touch it, but he did sit there at stare at it, unmoving, perfectly quiet, a frown between his eyebrows, until finally the sun crested the horizon spewing great rays of gold and it was morning.