Allison decided to just teach her class the basics of urban legends and kept the candyman stuff well away from her place of work, at home and a little over a week since she visited the Singer flat she had written six solid pages on the candyman crimes, complete with connections, witness statements and theories. She had traced the earliest candyman tale all the way back to Victorian London when an un named nobleman called the name into a mirror and laughed it off immediately with his dinner party guests, his wife found him dead the next morning, split from his groin to his gullet in their bedroom. Exact methods of the death varied from that one, to throat being ripped out all the way to deep puncture wounds with something circular in shape, that ruled out weapons such as knife of axe.

Allison took of her glasses and rubbed her temples as she leaned back in her desk chair, this was going to be an earlier finish as she had a visitor for dinner that night, DI Aiden Todd. He had taken her out for dinner in the week so she decided to cook for him tonight, hope he likes spaghetti with his garlic. He arrived at six on the dot with a case of beer, the wine on the last date, although nice wasn't for her, it tasted like something she would drizzle over her chips. His date wear wasn't much of a change from his work wear, grey button up shirt, dressy jeans and Dr martain's. She sat at the head of the table and he sat at her left hand side to change things up a little as they are together.

'So how's the paper going?' He asked as he twirled spaghetti against a spoon with his fork.

'Actually really good, I'm hoping to maybe get it published once the case is closed, like I say I'm not a journalist I mainly want it to be a reflection of what people thought before the truth came out' she explained.

'But if what you have is no where near the mark won't it kind of be null?'

'That's why it's going to be a reflection not full of facts, I think it would be important to show readers that at one point these murders where committed by a fictional entity, to show people would rather it was a camp fire story rather than face the grim reality of what it really was'

'Well it will be a discussion piece I'll give you that' Aiden said pushing his plate forward as he finished his meal.

Aiden insisted on washing the dishes while Allison set the living room comfortably with candles, now and then she would observe him from afar, his body was lean but every strong, getting a hint of muscle moving under his shirt as he dried the plates. He was clearly athletic which was evident from how he walked, straight back, his whole body seemed to be in on the action, movements which indicated running was a common hobby of his.

They had had a number of beers as she listened to stories of him growing up with a father who moved them from army camp to army camp, how he never really got to bond with potential friends and how after school he seemed lost, not wanting to follow in his father's footsteps but also wanting to do good things in life, he joined the police academy and never looked back. She avoided having to tell him about her uneventful life by surprising him with a long deep Kiss as she straddled his lap on the sofa. She moaned long as he kissed her neck trying to get the thought of growing up with no real friends, almost absent parents and her nose constantly stuck in a book every Friday night while her college friends were out drinking, but now was her time to have some fun and she was going to make up for so much lost time as she peeled off her shirt.

...

She kissed his shoulder and down his muscular arm as he slept next to her. She sat up in bed and was almost chilled to the bone by the open window, she picked up his shirt and buttoned it up over her slim frame, it covered everything halfway past her thighs. She walked bare foot against the wood flooring on way to the bathroom, inside she went over to the sink and pulled the cord to the mirrors light. She filled up a glass with water and downed it in one go. Looking at herself in the mirror she saw the aura of confidence about herself she had carved since she was a teenager. Her eyes seemed to glimmer an icy blue and she had to try and force the smile from her face dispute the fact her hair was going to be a task and a half in the morning and love bites covered her shoulders.

'Better late than never' she said to herself in the mirror follows but a silence which was interrupted by the faint sound of buzzing, she looked over head and saw a single bee hovering over her so she swatted at it, a few more joined it so she looked in the cupboard below her for the insect spray and gave them all a good blast with it. They dropped slowly after the attack, some in the sink, some on the floor as the buzzing slowly began to die. She turned off the light above her and turned to leave the bathroom but stopped dead in her tracks when she looked to where her shower was and saw the dark figure standing behind the glass bricks. It was distorted but large and seemed to make the shape of a man stood still and tall, looking directly at her through the unclear divide between them.

'.. Allison... ' a voice seemed to reverberate all around the room, it was loud as it sang her name but it they dynamic of it was like someone whispering into a microphone.

Allison was frozen where she stood, growing cold and scared very fast as her eyes unblinkingly locked themselves to the figure as it slowly moved from behind the glass divide to show itself. He stepped out and stood still, standing at around six foot five he seemed much larger by his trench coat which was a deep dark purple which looked black in the moonlight coming through the bathroom window. The lapels and around his collar were sheep skin lined and he wore a white cravat around his neck. Allison saw he was a black man, handsome with immaculate skin and very sharp features but what seemed to incaptivate her were his eyes they seemed to stare right into her and just like her own his were not blinking just staring but so calming. He took in a deep breath which she heard just as clear as she heard his voice. The man very slowly began to walk towards her.

'What do you want?... ' she asked quietly trapped under his spell.

'Like others before you, you wanted to believe but just like everyone does in the end, you doubted my exsistance so I was obliged to come, to show you the truth'

'The truth?.. ' her eyes were now starting to stream down her cheeks as he got close to her, stood only two feet in front of her she heard the buzzing again, as though the bees were trapped in a box.

'... you've heard the stories, you've seen the writings, now the time has come to know everything about me, to discover why they called me by that name and why those who disbelieved became stories to frighten children and to make lovers hold themselves closer in the night'

He took her right hand in his left and she felt the coldness of his skin. The buzzing continued and there was the smell of candyfloss, it was the exact same smell as the one she smelled in the abandoned housing complex only this time it was stronger. She stared up into his eyes. His right hand came into view, only it wasn't a hand, under the sheep skin cuff of his coat which was caked in dry sticky gore was a stump, and jammed into that stump, held in by nails was a metal hook, dripping in fresh blood which made it glint in the silver light of the moon.

'... I need you, I need you to make sure my legacy lives on, you will tell them all that I exists, and once they believe we will be joined together in stories and in the memories of those who are damned in their own exsistance, you will be worshipped as i am' he said as he lightly stroked the point of his hook down her cheek, it nicked her skin and drew blood. She was fading, her legs giving way she seemed to float down to the floor, eyes heavy and blinking now as if she was falling asleep. She was concious enough to watch as he opened his coat and exposed the source of the buzzing, bees seemed to erupt from him and the insects uncovered the images she would never forget, his torso was almost hollowed out, his ribcage stuffed with fresh dripping, honey combs. He stood almost christ-like with his arms outstretched the moment she passed out.