"Hey, bro. What can I do you for?"

Cassidy was in the park, watching the swans race the ducks for the scraps of bread he'd thrown into the lake. There was a scarcity of the people that gave the park its name, something he was pleased about. It was early, and the air was still fresh and untainted by the pollution the day would bring. It felt unprepared for the strains Humanity would put it through and, so, Cass felt sorry for it.

He had told Amy he'd see her later, but it was another few hours before he'd left the house. The sun had to rise. The park had to rid itself of the undesirables that occupied it at night. There was always a lull afterwards, before the school and work runs began, where a sense of expectancy hung over the space. Who'd be first in? A jogger? A dog walker? A previous night reveller walking home, still in the same clothes, from whichever bed they'd found themselves in when the alcohol faded?

Cassidy wasn't the first, but he was one of them. Feeding the birds, tuppence a bag, was something he did when he wanted to distance himself from his emotional surroundings. On this occasion, that wasn't his intention. This time, he wanted them to come to him for company. They weren't puppies, but they were still not people. Particularly not masked, pillow grabbing, mirror disappearing, murderous burglars.

He'd just broken up another slice of bread and scattered them in the water, when he called Ethan.

"Hey, you. How you doing?" he said in response to his brother's greeting.

"I'm good, thanks, even though I'm still on my first coffee of the day. You're not, obviously."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I'm your brother, you never call me this early, and you sound like someone just killed your dog."

Cassidy's words stumbled over each other in his throat, causing him to make a choking sound.

"What's up with you?" Ethan asked, the immediate concern obvious in his tone.

Cass gulped and took a deep breath before answering.

"Someone killed my dog."

"What the fuck? Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously."

"When? How? What the hell happened?"

What did happen? Ethan had believed the story about Amy, but was this a tale too far? Cassidy would soon find out. He told his brother the events of the night before. Nothing was left out and, when he was relating Bobby's transfer to within the mirror, he felt as if vomit might follow the bread into the lake. He wasn't sure if the ducks like regurgitated

"Oh."

Ethan's response was quiet. Shocked. He didn't know what to say that might help his brother. Maybe no words were suitable.

"Oh, indeed."

"So, she sucked them into the glass?"

"More or less. They sort of drifted in, like they were on a slope I couldn't see. They were covered in that red stuff, and... yeah. They disappeared inside the mirror."

"Do you think she, like, ate them?"

"I wondered the same, but she said no. She helped them move on, she said."

"Do you believe her?"

"I do, yes. She wouldn't lie, I'm sure."

"I tend to agree. So, now, you're going after the dad?"

"Yeah. I have to. He deserves it. And she deserves some justice. And, after the séance and everything, I feel like I owe her."

"After that, I think we all owe her!"

"Maybe so," Cass said. "But this is something I need to do myself."

Until that point, Cassidy had been planning on asking his brother for help, but when it came to making the request, he couldn't. If it really was going to be as dangerous as Amy said, he didn't want to put anyone else at risk. He could handle it, just as he told Amy. And, if he couldn't, then only he would pay the price for believing otherwise.

"Fuck that," Ethan said sternly. "You ain't doing nothing like that on your own! Fucking idiot, Fucker!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, eh?" Cass said.

He smiled slightly to himself. He wasn't in a jovial mood, but his brother's words gave him comfort and lifted his spirits, even just by a touch. Bobby's death stung him. Tucking the dog away into a mental box had softened the blow, but whispers of sorrow still leaked out. He couldn't keep them all contained.

"Pretty much, bro," said Ethan. "You home?"

"I'm at People's. I needed to get out and think of my next move."

"So, what's our next move, then?"

"Find her father."

"Well, duh. That makes sense. I meant how. And what then?"

"We need to find out his name, then we can Google him or something."

"You didn't ask her his name? What sort of detective are you?"

"I didn't think to, OK? I was shaken up by the attack and..." He didn't want to say, 'Bobby's murder.' "Stuff."

"It's a good job I know someone who knows, then," Ethan said.

"Who's that?"

"Me."

"Oh! How do you know it?"

"I asked Jazz, of course! She was friends with Amy, remember? I figured she'd know. She did."

Cassidy stared at the fountain in the middle of the lake. It was only switched on during the summer months, and then only during the day. It had just sprung into life, and he could feel the slight splatter of droplets carried by the breeze. Jasmine was another one at risk. He'd be unsuccessful in trying to keep her out of the way, too. She was as obstinate and caring as Ethan and would refuse to keep away.

"Why did you have to drag her into this? I wanted you both left out."

"Then you're an idiot."

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop acting like one, then. The guy's a potential murderer. Me and Jazz aren't going to let you face that on your own."

"Not potential," Cass said. "Actual. He killed her. She told me."

"And what if she's lying?"

"She's not. I know she's not."

"No, I don't think so either. But what if she's wrong, then?"

"I don't think she is. She's just too sure of it. He killed her, that's it."

"I agree. I had to ask. If you believe her, so do I."

"Thanks. So, where does he live?"

"Not so fast, boyo!" Ethan said.

He knew his younger brother could sometimes be impulsive. He wasn't going to offer the information without being there to make sure Cassidy didn't immediately jump into action.

"What? Just tell me where he lives. I know what you're thinking. I'll wait for you."

"Sure you will, Fuck Face. In that case, you won't mind waiting until I'm there, then."

"Fine," Cass said, sighing impatiently. "How long you gonna be?"

"Well, can I get dressed first? Finish my coffee?"

"Sure. I'll hang around here."

"Don't get into any trouble while you're waiting. I've got to make the coffee first, but I won't be long. Ok?"

"OK."

Cass didn't want to wait. He knew he had to, or, at least, should, but he was eager to find Amy's killer. Waiting was only delaying the inevitable. The man who had entered his dreams and left a foul taste was about to be fed a great spoonful of his own medicine. He'd see how good that tasted.

The high possibility, or rather probability, Cassidy might end up hospitalised or dead didn't escape him. He was burying the knowledge for the moment. It was wrapped in bin bags and dumped in a ditch of purpose and folly. Ethan being there would likely not reduce the chance of impending death, but Cassidy's end would, at least, have company.

Hmmm...

He thought about going over to see Wendy. Her house was only a few metres away and the old dear could well be up. If Ethan could have a coffee, why couldn't he? The pause would be welcome, and certainly useful, forcing him to take some time to think about his next move. Ethan would be pleasantly surprised to find Cass was no longer going to wade in, shit deep.

But did he want that pause? Did he want to second guess himself? Sure, it was the best thing to do. The right thing. There was something to be said, however, for just going for it. Punch first and ask questions later, if you could be bothered.

He didn't often have the need to think about such things. He avoided violence, so having to debate the pros and cons of imminent death was new to him.

Wendy would have the kettle on. As far as he knew, Wendy always had the kettle on.

Fuck it. He'd wait in the park. He didn't want the company, or the intrusion into his business. She'd ask how he was. He'd say fine, and she'd known he was lying. He couldn't tell her the truth, so he'd make something up, and she would, again, know he was lying. The swans didn't ask questions or judge. They just wanted his bread.

He'd go for a wander around the park. It would clear his head for the trial ahead. It'd give his brother the chance to arrive and try to persuade Cassidy to do what he was already contemplating. Planning.

"See ya," he said to the wildlife.

He turned and started to walk, pulling his phone out as he went. How were his social media feeds looking? Who was having what for breakfast? Who was posting stupid memes that weren't funny but still made him smile?

What could he type into Google to find Amy's murderous father?

https://youtu.be/0ps6GpDxxpY

If you like the chapter, please drop a vote and comment. It'll give me ALL the feels! And, if you wonder anything about what's happening, or have any suggestions for bonus chapters, please let me know!

Oh, and remember, many of my books are interlinked. Wendy, here, also appeared in Hollow, where she has her own bonus origin story!