The Stronghold

Count The Scars

Eventually the police came, forcing the onlookers and journalists away. I followed behind wherever they took Tom's body, not speaking a word, my eyes out of focus and my skin pale. Due to my ghostly look nobody spoke to me, something I was perfectly happy about.

I'd been taken to the police station where the police were trying to work out who Tom was and how he'd died. Salt had healed the broken bones and everything would be fine if Tom wasn't dead.

"May I take your name?" a female police officer asked kindly. I looked up at her blankly, feigning confusion.

"Your name, sir," she repeated.

"Blur," I said, referring to our old codenames back from when we worked for Rainfall.

"And surname?" the young officer asked, scribbling it down.

"Um... Jerries." I might as well take Albin's surname. He wasn't exactly going to use it, was he?

"Very good," the officer smiled, shutting her notepad with a snap. "Do you need anything?"

"My friend back," I replied. "Nobody stays dead for long in my world."

"Er..."

"Just let me have his body. Wait, I didn't mean that to sound so creepy." I smiled up at her and tried to prevent my eye twitching.

"I'm not sure that's exactly legal," the officer said uncertainly. I rolled my eyes and pushed her out of the way, zooming over to where the room opened onto a morgue.

"Move out of my way," I growled, shouldering people aside to reach Tom.

I bent and put my ear next to his mouth, certain that he would be breathing. From nowhere I'd got a burst of confidence, becoming cockier and more assured that Tom was, in fact, alive.

To my surprise cold breath tickle my ear. I raised my head and arched an eyebrow, staring down at Tom in puzzlement.

"You're dead," I said to him. "So stop breathing."

A shallow, weak laugh responded. "I think I'm alive," Tom said shakily.

*

"How many of us have died now?" Tom asked, scooping up some ketchup onto one of his fries and biting down on it.

"I have, Georgina has," I began, ticking them off my fingers. We were sat in a little cafe just outside o the city centre. Tom had a full meal and half of mine whereas I was content with a cup of sweetened coffee.

"Shaade, Josh, you, Sophie, Rebecca, Albin, Amalia, Lotte, Salt, loads of bad guys have died... Pretty much everyone we meet dies."

"And yet none of them stay dead," Tom chuckled.

"Lotte's staying dead so far. So is Salt. And nobody cared about Albin."

"I'm alive."

"Yeah, but you've become a walking freezer," I pointed out. Tom shrugged and continued eating.

I took a sip of my coffee and pulled a face. Tipping another four sachets of sugar into it I let my mind wander.

"We need to really start afresh," I said suddenly. Tom raised an eyebrow and when I didn't elaborate he threw a chip at me. As that failed he started to throw more things until I started to sneeze.

"What did you do?" I cried between sneezes. Tom laughed and tilted the shaker towards me.

"Threw you at your face," he said. "Pepper, see?"

"Damn you!" I sneezed. The force made my forehead hit the table, leaving me dazed and Tom howling with laughter.

"Brilliant," he sighed happily. "Just brilliant."