I can only guess that this was what was happening as Sheira and I were wedged into a very tight and very dark space that really wasn't meant for two people. As soon as the lock began to open the Beasts vanished with a puff of smoke and snowflakes and I dragged Sheira over to one of the comically oversized silver vats and stuffed the two of inside.

And not a moment too soon either as the moment the door swung shut behind us the door clanged open and the sounds of an argument just about punched through the steel walls of the tube. It was a very one-sided discussion with one party shouting his lungs out at another individual who couldn't give less of a crap.

"The numbers don't lie, your little experiment isn't providing the results the boss is after," the louder voice snapped. "You've had six months to prepare! There are seven thousand elementals living on this stupid hunk of rock and you've barely managed to get five hundred. We should have them all by now!"

"Patience is not one of your finer virtues, is it?"

I'd heard that voice before. It might have been only once but I recognised the high pitch of youth mixed with the harsh coldness of a murderer.

The other man scoffed. "It ain't me who's getting impatient. Molly wants results and she's not getting them and you know how she is right now."

"The train was not my fault."

"It wasn't mine either, but that doesn't mean I'm exempt from the chopping block. None of us are."

"She trusts me," Marx said cooly.

The other man actually laughed this time. "You may be a genius but you're still an idiot. You might be her general, you might be in the inner circle but am I wrong when I say you're just one wrong move from turning into one of those."

There was a pause as I could only guess that the older man was pointing to either the cage or the mutilated figure on the table. Marx didn't respond.

"If you really mean that you can boost those figures by attacking Truespear Hollow then go ahead, try it. Because if you fail that means they'll be a new position on the inner council and there's always someone climbing the ladder behind you. Just remember that."

I didn't dare breathe as footsteps walked away and the heavy metal door clanged shut behind him. The silence was unnerving after the raucous argument but neither of us moved. Because, as Sheira had frantically whispered after I made to open to door, Marx was still there.

Thirty seconds went by. Thirty seconds of holding my breath before the little psychopath finally moved. Muttering and grumbling light footsteps stalked over to the cage. "I'll prove them wrong. It's almost complete. Just a little longer. Wait until tonight, then they'll see what I can do. Don't look so scared, you're going to become part of something bigger than any of your pitiful little lives could have ever been intended for."

The two of us could only listen helplessly as the scraping metal indicated that the metal gate was now open and then the people in the cage started screaming. There were sounds of desperate begging, running and eventually the sickening sound of a dull thud, more screams and something getting dragged away. Someone destined to become one of those things.

Even in the pitch-black darkness, the wide, bright eyes of Sheira were all that I could see as the sound became fainter and fainter until they fell silent. I waited for a moment and then slowly pushed against the edge of the door. The only problem was that Marx's freaky, build-your-own beastie just happened to be right outside it.

I pulled it quickly, but sadly not so quietly, shut behind me and pulled Sheira back as far as we could into the corner.

"Did he...?" Sheira asked.

"Its back was turned," I whispered. "I think."

"Oh, great."

Yup, our main hope was riding on the minute chance that Frankenstein's monster over there hadn't actually seen us. Sniffing at the door sent my stomach hurtling into my shoes like a skydiver without a parachute. I heard its rattling breath, low hissing and I swear I could smell decaying meat seeping through the cracks.

This is it, we're doomed.

A low guttural growl/hiss seemed to indicate that. That thing doesn't sound normal by any stretch of the imagination, even down to the way it (I don't think it can count as a he or a she) moved. It made a sort of dragging sound coupled with claws scraping against the stone as it crawled along. It was unmistakable especially considering it was moving away from us and even though we waited for another minute or so, didn't return.

We fell out of the now sweltering tube into a soggy, breathless heap on the floor and even though the terrifying thought of the amalgamate slinking off to find it's master another, frankly more horrifying thought made itself known with startling speed. Someone had been nabbed and hauled away.

I had a suspicion who it could be but the two of us still ran forward demanding, "Who was it? Who was taken?" only to be answered with the inevitable.

"Jasmine."

Great. The only person we had been on the lookout for specifically was now in mortal danger. Fan-flipping-tastic. One problem at a time though or we're all for the high jump. The cage was a simple intersecting bar job but there was a minor issue in the fact that it didn't seem to have a keyhole. Or a lock for that matter.

"Could I melt the metal?" I examined the bars closely

"My best bet says no."

"So we're screwed then."

Sheira examined the iron plate holding the mechanism together. I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer by any stretch of the imagination but Sheira was. "Can you heat this up?" The asked, pointing at the plate.

"Sure..." I did as I was told, heating the metal to the point it may as well have been a light bulb. The glow was actually painful to look at but I kept watching as my friend froze her fingers into solid ice and gently touched the molten metal. My brain suddenly thrust my rather pathetic (Sorry Mr Travellis) knowledge of thermodynamics (Is that what its called?) eagerly to the front of my mind as the sudden change in temperature caused the lock to explode in a glorious shower of molten metal which I suddenly remembered was very freaking warm.

While I danced around wiping flecks of superheated ore from my arms, Sheira had directed the crowd into the passageways with clear instructions of how to get out and to run to Truesprear while we went to retrieve Jasmine. I wasn't worried about them. Yeah, they were weak, but now they had their powers back, as well as their beasts who were still standing tall, and in my humble opinion safety in numbers may just keep them all alive.

Sadly, I couldn't say the same for us two. With Flame and Ice flanking our heels once again, the two of us plunged back into the winding labyrinth to try and find where Jasmine had been taken. We passed rooms of glass tanks filled with that yellow stuff, more zombies dissected on tables and floors covered in red stuff that I really, really wanted to believe was in fact, ketchup.

The not-ketchup stained floor was the only reason we had the vaguest idea of where we were going. Marx clearly wasn't big into cleaning as the floor was so filthy you could clearly make out footprints and drag marks from an unconscious pair of feet. My mother would have died at the sight of the mess. We were just trying to make sure that someone didn't die as a result.

"If the little freak's worth his salt he'll have an additional five hundred by tonight."

It was him. The other voice from the lab. We ducked into a small side room and listened.

"So what if he messes up? If he bites the dust for messing up I'll eat my hat. What? He's valuable, not like the others. You know what I mean."

Either he was having a very one-sided conversation with himself or he was on the phone with someone. Hunkered low the four of us stalked forwards until I had a three-quarter cover but could still see the young man dressed in blue. And when I say 'dressed in blue' I mean all of him was covered in the exact same shade of cornflower. Thigh-length coat, knee-high boots, ascot and bowler hat with a jaunty bluejay feather stuck into the ribbon. Oh, wait, the scarf's moving. The snake wrapped around his neck like a scarf was also the exact same eye-watering shade.

"Leo and Jack are dispensable. He and James have a few more strikes, lucky bastards. Anyway, someones got to tell the boss her favourite puppet is failing, well the second favourite."

Puppet? Could he mean the spy?

"Huh? No, I haven't met her, knew her brother though. Well, next time you're up there give him a punch from me, alright. Ha! Okay, talk to you soon."

I watched him shove the phone back into his pocket and gather up some papers. I shared a glance with Sheira. I almost felt sorry for the poor guy as he rounded the corner, whistling slightly, and got punched square in the neck by an expertly placed strike from an icy baseball bat that could have earned a homerun.

The papers dropped to the floor as he stumbled backwards choking, got jumped on my a lion and a snow leopard (Neither of whom are lightweights) and was then dragged into a corner by the two-legged compatriots. The snake lay dazed on the floor and was then used as a chew toy by Ice.

"Where is Marx?" I demanded, pushing my sword against the base of his throat.

The bald-headed stranger lolled helplessly.

Sheira slapped him back to consciousness. "Where is Marx!"

"I – I – I dunno! He'd be in his lab."

"Where is that?" I said. Incaedium singed the edges of the fabric of his coat. "Start talking or no dry cleaner in the land will be able to fix the mess."

"Down the hall! Can't miss it! Just please don't..." Of all the looks to cross his face, recognition wasn't one I was expecting. "Hey, you're that Hayden kid. The one the boss is after."

"Wheres my mother?" I said. "My brother and sister. Are they still alive? Answer me!"

I wasn't intending to use Icaendium on him, but he didn't need to know that. Cold sweat poured down his forehead as he nodded frantically. "They're alive! As far as I'm aware. She wants the whole family, you know whats she's like."

That was good enough for me.

"What's going on here?" Sheira pressed.

The man snarled. "Like I'd tell you."

"Fine by me." She turned to me, "Nick, stab him."

"No! Don't stab me, please! It's just a stupid project the kid cooked up. Its an experiment, that's all!"

"An experiment that's killed people," Flame muttered coldly.

He raised his hands, "I swear I'm just the coordinator, I don't know what's going on."

He was sweating like mad, even from the palms of his hands. Plae blue sweat, moisture that stank of rotten eggs. I didn't give him the chance to move. I just slammed Incaedium's pommel into the ide of his head and he crumpled like a sack of potatoes. His beast was smacked against the wall until a similar state was achieved.

"Poison, I presume," I gave him a kick for good measure as the liquid began to eat away at the floor.

"Let's not find out," Ice said. "Come on, the trail leads this way."

For all his flaws it seemed that the man in blue had been correct about the lab. You'd have to be blind to miss it. Giant supervillain doorway? Check. Jets of steam shooting from the vents? Check. Trail of blood? Oh yes. A harsh metallic smell clouded the stale air.

Sheira and I slipped through the crack of the unlocked door and wandered blindly, clinging to the walls as best we could. There were no voices but Marx was definitely in the room. Of all things to be elemental, voodoo was not something that came to mind. In fact, it didn't even make the top one hundred, and yet everything from dolls to talismans to shrunken heads covered every spare surface. That and knives. And scalpels. Basically, anything sharp and pointy to stab things with. I picked up a rather nasty curved surgeons tool and tucked it down my sleeve. Just in case.

Behind a door, footsteps echoed along with the subtle clink of metal against the fabric. I crept forward and peeked. White hair stood up like he had one finger in a plug, the slender figure of Marx stood with his back to us, the table of (let's be honest here) satanic instruments absorbing all of his attention, thank god. Well, maybe not so much for Jasmine who was cable tied to the slab with her mouth gagged and crying her eyes out.

"Oh shut up," Marx snapped. "You think you're having a bad day? You don't need to worry about it. It'll be over for you soon enough."

Jasmine's eyes were wide and shining with tears. It was painful to look at and then those eyes locked on us and widened. I frantically placed a finger to my lips and she, seemingly getting the memo, went back to pleading with the psychopath who didn't appear to notice as he had now palmed a horrific-looking hook and held it over the poor girls' eye.

"Let me see...I need more eyes and these big browns will certainly do the trick." He grinned and slowly lowered the hook, inch by inch, getting closer and closer.

And then an alarm started to wail. "What the?" the madman looked up at the red light pulsing on the wall and then sprinted to a line of monitors and screamed. "NO! NO, NO, NO!" He ran from the room calling out, "Sam! SAM! DO NOT LET THEM GET AWAY!"

I couldn't care less who Sam was because as soon as Marx ran from they room screeching about the escapes like a parrot we ran inside and began to slice away at the binds.

"Are you alright?" Sheira asked as soon as the gag was removed.

All things considered, she wasn't doing too bad. Yes she was crying her eyes out, yes she was halfway to utter hysteria and yes she'd almost been dissected by an eight-year-old with ASPD but other than that positively peachy. We sat her up, carefully considering she was trembling like a leaf and then my eardrums were practically blown out by her sudden scream and then it was my turn to start shaking as we realised what had spooked her.

You see while Marx had indeed left the room his beast hadn't and was now sat on its coils and staring and us, no, scowling at us. The humans froze and the cats leapt forwards, teeth bared and snarling although I highly doubted what they could do when faced with that. Then it started to crawl towards us so Flame sunk his teeth into its side.

It screeched in pain and slapped the big cat away and shrunk back, muttering to itself. It sat up again and hissed and then, baffling every man, woman and cat in the room, rolled its eyes. What? Then it did something even weirder. Without moving forward it opened one clenched fist and revealed an amulet in the shape of a bear and tossed it to Jasmine. She caught it with fumbling fingers while we all continued to stare at Crocky over there.

This had to be a trick. It had to be. No way would a Beast turn its back on its master so readily. Right? Well, whatever the case may be the Beast in question seemed all too happy to betray its boss even more as, ignoring the three humans cowering in the corner, it hauled its deformed self over to a near-invisible service door and wrenched the thing open.

For some reason, I was the first to regain my courage. "Are you going to help us?" I asked, keeping one hand on Incaendium just in case it tried to pull an Anaconda and swallow me whole. "Because I swear to you if this is a trap–"

"If it was a trap I wouldn't be using it on you. I don't care about you, I just want to make sure he suffers."

I'm so stupid. No actually, if there was a village I'd be the idiot because in my moronic brain (I once burnt pasta because I forgot to put water in the pot) I'd missed something. This Beast didn't originally look like that. Yeah, no shit Sherlock but let's be real here how was I to know chimaeras weren't actually walking around on the planet, well they could be but that's beside the point.

This thing was two animals stitched together, possibly down to the cellular level, but one of them hadn't been in the original blueprint, it hadn't arrived at Marx like that. Perhaps both brains were still functioning as when it talked it sounded like a female voice speaking through some sort of modifier to lower it. Two sides stitched together fighting for control of the body but united in one detail. Hatred. Pure, unending hatred that might be enough to try and backstab him.

The two girls cautiously approached as the Beast turned and hauled its way through the passageway and, deciding to not to look a gift horse in the mouth, we hurriedly followed after the cats retreating to the relative safety of their amulets. Red emergency lights were now flashing in the corridors but for now, it was all quiet and all we could do was hope everyone got out in one piece and didn't run into Poison Ivy and the rest of the Cabbage Patch Kids.

For a while, I almost liked our chances, but then whatever demon was deciding to make our lives hell decided to intervene and basically throw whatever luck we had out of the window and in front of a moving car. The passageway popped us out into one of the storerooms that were clearly just made for Marx as every voodoo emporium in the deep south had decided to contribute their entire stock. Dolls, talismans, charms made out of human teeth and the like were stuffed onto every surface and there, smack bang in the middle of it, and throwing a hissy fit was Marx himself.

Things were flying around the room as he screamed and hollered and punched the ground with his fists (I didn't know people actually did that. Well you learn something new every day). Beastie smirked and beckoned for us to follow it around the ceiling height shelves, which had jars filled with god knows what fermenting in formaldehyde. The door was wide open, a clear exit that we could make a run for provided that Marx didn't notice us in his little temper tantrum and for a moment, a brief, glorious moment he didn't.

Until he did of course, because who needs the element of surprise. I wasn't sure if it was the faint footfall or the image of one of us out of the corner of his eye or the snakegator pulling itself along the floor but one way or another Marx whipped around and with a flick of his hand threw the three of us against the wall while his Beast recoiled snarling.

"Why you little traitor!" he spat and grabbed the Beast by the tail. On the table beside him, coils of rope reared up like snakes and lashed themselves around our wrists and pulled us into the air. Marx looked up at the three prisoners at first glaring with recognition at his escaped experiment and then with quiet confusion and then recognition. "Well, well, well it seems fate has brought us together once again, but this time it's in my house. Heh. How the tables have turned."

"Go to hell," I spat bitterly.

"Already have," Marx said casually. "How do you think I gained my precious gifts? Granted, they're not as precious as you're going to be to Molly. She's been looking for you ever since you performed that spectacular swan dive off the tower."

"We know," I said dryly. "We got her little message." While the odds were most certainly not in our favour, being tied up with a lunatic who liked to talk too much could be rather useful. Let's find out how much the opposition knows.

Marx smiled, "yes...that was my idea and it worked didn't it? Brought you running and you haven't even bothered to hide."

"Haven't needed to, what with our bodyguard," Sheira said offhandedly.

The Beast chuckled while Marx frowned sourly. "Yes, Shadow. The personal thorn in my master's side. What does he want with you two?"

"Take a guess," the beast snarled. Marx barely looked at it as he teased several of the stitches out of its torso. The wretched creature screeched in pain and not for the first time, I felt sorry for it.

"Speaking of the little bastard, where is he? Abandoned you for his own goals already?"

I didn't trust myself to answer but Sheira managed to respond without a waver to her voice. "You really think we'd leave Truespear Hollow unguarded? If anyone can protect them, it's him."

Worryingly, he smirked. "Really? You really know nothing about him, do you?"

I wanted him to go on, to keep talking about Shadow's history that he seemed to know but he didn't and instead pulled something out of his pocket. It was a doll. Woven from straw and with two button-eyes that were sewed in with a stinging scarlet thread it wasn't hard to mistake the voodoo tool that he was so proficient with.

"Even if I reach my quota, you're worth far more than any random test subject. Even you, Miss Winterton. I know several men who want to rip you apart slowly and painfully, you're worth a small fortune." A small pair of scissors was pulled from one of the hundreds of pockets on his shabby labcoat. It was rusty with blood and hair. "Let's not waste any time then."

Marx crept up close, rusty blades inching closer to my head. Hair, he needed a part of me for the spell, I'd seen enough documentaries to know how it worked but he perhaps wasn't expecting the resistance I was giving. And he certainly wasn't expecting the concealed scalpel in my hand.

As soon as he was close enough I forced the blade down. Originally aiming from the neck, the surgeon's tool buried itself three or four inches down into the area between the shoulder and collar bone. Hospital shows never quiet demonstrate how sharp those things are as Marx screeched in pain like a wounded dog.

That snap of concentration loosened our bindings and at the exact same moment ice, fire and thorns sped towards the slender figure which resulted in the pitch of the screeching raising several octaves.

"Run!" I yelled.

But Marx wasn't that much of a pushover. Cursing in a way that would've resulted in his mouth being washed out with soap, he yanked the scalpel from his neck and using his own blood as a conduit somehow poured life into the flesh suspended in jars around us. Two nearly fully formed figures ripped free of their glass cages and armed themselves, one with a club with nails hammered into it (Picture Lucille) and the other with a whip that seemed to be made out a human spine.

The one with the club moved with surprising speed towards Jasmine who, with a roar of pure rage and adrenaline, pushed her amulet into her chest and assumed the form of a monstrous black bear. As she ripped into the decomposing flesh, Sheira and I dodged out of the way of the one with the whip and threw ourselves to the ground as glass and liquid showered us like rain.

I leapt up and rushed it, dropping under another lashing of the whip, snapped my fingers together and threw a flamethrower right at its head. It went up like a Christmas tree but as it slowly burned it seemed to take no damage at all. A spear of pure ice plunged into the area where its heart was and a swing from Incaendium bisected its paper-thin skull, but it didn't drop.

There was no brain to destroy and the chest cavity was as empty as a black hole. Jasmine seemed to have the right idea as she was tearing the thing apart piece by piece until there was only mush remaining but no matter how much we all hacked and slashed, it just kept piecing itself back together.

Marx stood there in the corner of the room, eyes pale and glassy while droplets of blood orbited him like moons. We had to find a way to take him out. I gestured to Sheira at the tiny figure surrounded by his own blood. The spiked ball of ice simply shattered on impact with his shield so, slicing the amalgamation apart, tried a more direct approach.

I thrust Incaendium forwards, through the veil of blood, towards Marx's stomach. His eyes shone bright again with fury and he snarled and swung the scalpel at my face. Burning pain and the taste of copped dripping into my mouth indicated that the little brat had made contact, but at least his concentration had been broken.

The constructs fell apart but, of course, that wasn't his only trick. With a wave of his hand, thousands more spectral hands materialised out of thin air and latched themselves to my clothes like thousands of spiders. I swung wildly, desperate to get their clawing fingers away from my eyes and mouth which seemed to be target number one. Sheria and Jasmine raced forwards and dragged them away from me, freezing, burning and ripping them into oblivion.

And then, as if my day couldn't get any weirder, I started to drown. On dry land.

At first, I just couldn't breathe. Like there was something wrapped around my neck or like I was choking on food and needed someone to give me the Heimlich. But then it was like I'd done the ice bucket challenge because I was both cold and wet at the same time. Watch the finale of Stardust and you'll get what I'm on about.

Luckily for me, while Sheira and Jasmine were trying to get my attention (I couldn't actually hear a word they were saying) I looked up towards Marx. The mad scientist was draped over a giant vat of...something. It could have been oil for all I cared but all I knew was this, a doll containing my blood was pushed beneath the surface and he wasn't going to let up easy.

I jabbed a finger at him just as the corners of my vision started to quiver alarmingly which did the trick. Jasmine bear spun on her heel and charged, barrelling straight into the vat and sending it flying. My airways thankfully opened up as soon as little-me was home and dry-ish.

"Doll," I gasped, waving Sheira away. Jasmine hurled Marx across the room like a dead rat. "Get that doll."

She nodded, clicked her heels together and skated after Marx who had now made a beeline for the door. I pushed myself to my feet, wondering how my life had come to this and sprinted after her. And then I fell to the floor gasping in pain.

I knew what if felt like to be stabbed and now, as a red flower welled up from an imaginary wound, I knew what it was like to be bitten by a bear. Said bear had Marx in her jaws by the arm, mini-me was lost somewhere in her gullet so all I could do was screech, "DO NOT SWALLOW."

She didn't but Marx punched her square in the nose and ran for it.

"Don't damage that doll! I don't fancy the idea of being split in half!" I yelled as I kept on running.

Marx dashed into another one of his voodoo caves and leapt to a cabinet with all sorts of talismans pouring from the overstuffed drawers. I lunged before he could turn us all into frogs and wrapped my arm around his throat and dragged him back in a chokehold. Jasmine seized his legs underneath her massive paws and Sheirra wrestled for the doll while he thrashed helplessly.

Okay, maybe not so helplessly as we'd completely forgotten that he was armed. The scalpel buried itself into Sheira's thigh and all due credit to her, she didn't scream once. But she did flinch and that was all Marx needed to twist round in my grip, kick a bear fully in the face and back up against the wall, deep purple shadows writhing at his fingertips, daring us to come closer.

My doll was still clenched in his fist, crushing my lungs painfully without even realising it. He wanted me alive, that was the only reason the doll was still in one piece. If he presented me dead to Molly, he may as well join me in the great beyond but so long as he had that doll he had leverage, he had control. All from a tiny bit of blood.

I glanced down at one of the magically inflicted stab wounds which had now dyed my coat a deep purple and trails of the red stuff leaked down my wrist and from my clenched knuckles. White stuff that was probably Marx's hair was remarkably stark against the crimson...Hair!

I looked around as the first of Marx's tendrils lashed out and narrowly missed Sheira as we dived behind a workbench. Anything and everything to do with voodoo were in this room, I just had to take an educated guess and hope it didn't horribly backfire.

I have an idea, I said through the communication stone.

Enlighten me.

Get my doll. Distract him. Keep his attention off me.

What the hell are you planning? She sounded rather exasperated.

I'm going to try and out-voodoo the voodoo man.

You're insane, she thought and with one look at Jasmine leapt up unleashing the full force of a blizzard at Marx's head.

With him going through the deep freezer I sprinted for the ceiling-high shelves and began to desperately push objects aside, rifling through assorted skulls and jars of something decaying to try and find another empty doll. All I needed was one that wasn't attached to anybody but it seemed that Marx had a few people wandering around on strings as at least all of them had at least a hair affixed to the top.

Jasmine roared and Marx cried out in pain and the feeling of tightness momentarily lifted from my ribcage and then squeezed again, but luckily for me, I don't think it was the psychopathic eight-year-old this time.

"Nick whatever you're planning, do it NOW!"

I'm working on it! I thought frantically when at last, after pulling down half a shelf, seized an almost identical straw doll (With absolutely no trace of human DNA) stuffed Marx's hair into a slit on its scalp, snapped my fingers and set fire to its feet.

Luckily for yours truly I didn't spontaneously combust and it had the desired effect on the little terror. He screamed in agony and fell onto his back, clutching the soles of his feet and howled like, well, like a guy that was being set on fire. I stepped out from behind the shelf, fireball blazing centimetres from the tiny figurine.

Marx looked like he'd been slapped in the face with his favourite toy. His previously pale face had turned a shade of deepest plum.

"Why you little–" he started, spitting words laced with venom.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you," I warned. "Last I checked straw burns."

He scoffed, "you don't have the nerve."

There was a look in his eyes, daring whole also calling my bluff at the same time. I scowled. He was a kid, yes, but that isn't an excuse. I held the flame closer to his straw head. Real skin began to bubble and blister. "Try me."

His smile fell. The expression that replaced it was one of extreme discomfort.

I jerked my head towards the door. Jasmine-bear squeezed through the gap with great difficulty. The blades at Sheira's feet retracted and she too backed out of the door, not taking her eyes off Marx. Then it was just the two of us (We can make it if we try. Sorry, had to).

A globule of blood and spit flew from Marx's lips as his eyes narrowed into snake-like slits. He didn't make a move though. He knew what I knew, I had his only weakness, I was judge, jury and execution on his life and while the little figure was in my hands he couldn't do anything.

I also had my own doll which I'll admit is pretty problematic but we'll figure that out later. Or maybe I'll keep the thing. Who knows? It might prove to be useful if I ever feel the need to...oh, I don't know its too weird to think about.

I took a step back toward freedom. Perhaps it was just a twitch but I was sure that Marx moved closer so I held the flame a little closer. Burning flesh (I hate to admit I know what that smells like now) invaded my nostrils.

"You're going to stay where you are," I said firmly. "You don't come after us, you don't sound any alarms, we're just going to walk out of here real civil like and nobody gets hurt. Alright?"

Marx looked like he did want someone to get hurt. Preferably decapitated. "You've made yourself a very dangerous enemy. Rember that. Because I know this, you won't kill me. You're no murderer, you don't have it in you. But we do. And when we get our hands on you, you'll be wishing you could end it all."

For a moment I watched this kid. This eight-year-old boy who spoke of killing and torture like it was homework or TV show he liked. So casual, so...normal. I stood in the threshold, doll in one hand flame in the other, staring at this kid and felt nothing but pity.

"I'm certain of it."

And we ran. Marx could have come chasing after us but we didn't stop. Even when our footsteps were drowned out by the wailing sirens, even when figures running towards us were obscured by the flashing lights, even when the passage narrowed and we had to sprint skywards in single file. Hearts pounding, lungs burning, not stopping until the sky spread out like a canvas above our heads and the last tombstone rotted away into rubble.