26 
ALICE
I meet Russell at a bar called the Willow Tree. Jesus, he really is nothing without his screen persona. He sits at a round table in the centre of the room. He looks seriously hot, his white T-shirt pulled taut across his pecs, and I hate myself for noticing how ripped his arms look. He sees me and stands.
He kisses me on the cheek, his aftershave burning the inside of my nostrils. His hands slide around my waist and I have to stop myself from smacking them away. I haven’t been pawed by a guy in ages.
I sit opposite him and smile my best smile. ‘The Willow Tree, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, pushing his hair from his eyes. ‘I thought you’d like it.’
‘I love it.’ I’m still smiling my best smile.
‘How are your friends?’ he asks.
I shrug, ordering my eyes to stay dry. ‘They’re still in comas, but they’re stable. I’m sure they’ll be fine.’
‘It’s weird though, another earth tremor at Comic-Con, your friends going into comas again. You should write about it on that fanfic site of yours, now that would really notch up the views.’
I stare at him in disbelief. How did I ever fancy this guy? ‘Erm, yeah, I guess,’ I manage to say.
A waitress approaches us. She looks at Russell and a grin spreads across her face. ‘Mr Jones, it’s so lovely to see you again. What can I get you tonight?’
He orders me a cocktail I’ve never heard of. I prickle at the fact he didn’t ask me what I wanted. The waitress beams at me like I’m the luckiest woman alive, having Russell decide what I’m drinking, then she leaves.
‘Thanks for helping out with Fandom Rising,’ I say.
He frowns. ‘With what?’
‘Fandom Rising,’ I repeat. ‘My fanfic site.’
‘Oh yeah, sure. That’s what friends are for.’ He clearly hasn’t read any of my posts. I didn’t really expect him to, but it still stings a little. ‘So where are you at with book number three?’ he asks.
Christ, he doesn’t hang around.
‘I’m thinking about it,’ I say, wanting to keep him on side. ‘Fandom Rising is really helping me get creative again. It’s actually honing some ideas, that’s why it’s so great you’re on board with it.’
He smiles at me. This is going really well; if he thinks my fanfic will help him land another movie role, he’ll publicize it no end. Fanboy doesn’t stand a chance.
Russell slides a tanned and perfect hand across the table and rests it on top of mine. ‘So tell me more about this fanfic site, Alice. What are you planning to write next?’
‘Well—’ I’m interrupted by my phone buzzing on the table. It’s face down, so I think maybe it’s a message from my stalker. Panic grips my insides. I wish that bloody cocktail would arrive so I could take the edge off.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble to Russell. ‘I better check it isn’t Timothy.’
Russell chuckles. ‘Never stand between a girl and her editor.’
Quickly, I check my phone.
But it isn’t the stalker. It’s Danny. And the message sends my heart spiralling out of control. No amount of alcohol could take the edge off this.
Russell is Fanboy! Get out of there!
VIOLET
Ash and Katie are just laying out dinner when we arrive back at Headquarters. The spread is small when compared to the body of the church – just a single pot of casserole and a loaf of bread – but the scent is huge, barely held by the stone walls. My mouth instantly fills with saliva. I haven’t eaten all day.
I quickly count four places, so I’m guessing Willow and Daisy aren’t joining us. I can’t help feeling a huge sense of relief that I won’t have to face Daisy. The guilt has been nibbling away at my insides. I know she and Ash weren’t in a relationship when I slept with him, but still, it was a bit of a sly move. And it does remind me of finding Alice in bed with Willow. How hurt I was, knowing she could betray me like that. And it makes me realize not just how Daisy might be feeling right now, but why Alice may have done what she did in the first place. Because she really did love Willow. Just like I love Ash.
Katie and Ash look up, and when they see me, their faces light up. Nate by my side, Katie and Ash smiling at me, food on the table . . . for a wonderful, fleeting second, everything feels good.
Ash jogs towards me and takes my hands in his. He leads me towards the table, as though there’s only us in the church, and Nate and Katie don’t exist. ‘I thought you’d be hungry,’ he says.
I reach the table, and Katie whispers in my ear, ‘What with all the humping.’
I can’t help but laugh.
‘I made bread,’ Katie says, pointing at a misshapen loaf on the table. ‘From scratch.’ She has a dusting of flour across her nose, which makes her look hilarious and adorable all at once.
‘She’s a natural,’ Ash says.
Katie laughs. ‘I just imagined the dough was Thorn’s face and twatted the hell out of it.’
Ash pulls out my chair for me and winks. I feel my cheeks flush, and I can’t help watch as he pulls off his jacket and his holster, resting them on the back of his chair.
‘We can eat later,’ I tell him. ‘First, we need to find the canister.’
‘Canister?’ Ash says.
‘I buried it beneath the church,’ Nate says, grabbing my hand and leading me towards a wooden door. ‘It’s going to release the Imp-targeting virus tomorrow. I’m going to see if I can make an antidote.’
Katie must drop a fork; the sound of metal hitting china resonates around the church like an alarm bell.
Nate leads me through the door and down a stone corridor angled downwards. It’s the same corridor from The Gallows Dance film, the corridor which led to Baba’s cell. My heart still burns when I think of her, how I failed to help her as she’s helped me so many times. The air thins in my lungs and cools against my face. If we can get that canister, if we can find an antidote, we’ll be going home. I imagine my parents’ joyous faces when Nate and I both wake up. I can almost feel the warmth of their arms folding around me. I swallow down the lump in my throat and order myself to focus – there are still a lot of ifs.
We enter a stone cavern, similar to the one Ash and I were held prisoner in last time we were here. Nate lights a torch and the flames illuminate the walls, dappled with moss and pitted with time. He seems to count the bricks and then slips his fingers into a gap in the mortar.
‘It’s in here,’ he whispers, easing out a stone.
We both peer inside the black hole.
The canister has gone.
The stone chamber seems to shrink, walls and panic closing around me until even my skin feels too tight. If we can’t make an antidote, then we can’t save the Imps . . . We can never go home. And it isn’t just about going home. I can’t bear the thought of all the Imps dying a horrible death. Of Ash dying a horrible death.
Of genocide.
But when Nate turns to me, his eyes hold a spark of excitement. ‘There’s still hope,’ he says. ‘If I can’t make an antidote, I’ll stop the launch.’ He begins to jog upwards towards the main body of the church, and I follow, my head reeling.
‘You can do that?’
‘I know where the launch site is. We should hang fire till tomorrow morning though – word is, the President himself is coordinating the launch, so if we wait till then, we can cut off the head of the snake.’
Tomorrow is Nate’s birthday. Which means one thing – his life support will be shut off and I’ll lose him for ever.
Should we really cut it that fine? But Nate’s right, killing President Stoneback is the only way of guaranteeing another virus won’t be made. It’s the only way of truly saving the Imps.
So, feeling completely torn, riddled with anxiety and fear, I whisper my response: ‘OK.’
We burst into the main body of the church, Ash and Katie waiting for us with hopeful looks on their faces.
‘Change of plan.’ I’m about to continue, when the sound of distant shouting cuts me off. We spin to the source of the noise. It’s coming from outside, behind the great, wooden doors. The shouting grows louder. It’s Daisy. Another voice joins her, deep and gruff, clearly angry. Thorn.
My skin hardens with fear, every hair on my neck raised.
The door opens and Daisy runs to Ash. Her face is soaked in tears. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasps, falling on to him as though she’s trying to shield him. ‘I was so upset about you and Violet . . . I didn’t know what I was saying. I must have let slip that Nate betrayed us . . .’ She looks behind us, eyes settling on Nate. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says again.
Thorn raises a dark green box in front of him.
‘The canister,’ Nate whispers. ‘But how did you . . . ?’
Thorn smiles. ‘Looking for this?’
ALICE
My face must fall. Russell Jones is Fanboy. My heart begins to pound.
‘Are you OK?’ Russell asks.
I force myself to smile. ‘Yeah, yeah. It’s just . . . my mum. Sorry, I better ring her back. She’s freaking out about something.’
Russell rolls his eyes. ‘Bloody mothers.’
I head to the toilet and ring Danny, my fingers trembling so badly I almost can’t hold my phone to my ear.
His voice sounds urgent. ‘Al, thank God. Are you still with Russell?’
‘Yeah. Well, I’m in the ladies.’ I glance around the tiled room. I’m in luck, there’s nobody else here. ‘What do you mean, Russell is Fanboy?
‘OK, so I was Twitter stalking him, not being jealous at all. I saw him tagged in a photo snapped by a fan. He was at the internet café the other day.’
‘What?’ My tongue turns into cardboard. I put the phone on speaker so I can scroll through my apps and still talk to Danny. I locate the photo quickly. It’s several days old now. Russell’s wearing sunglasses, but it’s undeniably him. He’s bent over a computer, surrounded by modern desks and sage-green walls. Danny’s right; it’s the same café he traced the IP address to.
‘It can’t be a coincidence,’ Danny says. ‘He wants publicity, he’s helping promote your site – the fanfic war between Fanboy and Anime Alice is just a publicity stunt.’
My heart rate soars and I can feel my dress sticking to my skin with sweat. ‘Jesus, Danny. Do you think Russell broke into my house and wrote that message on my mirror?’
There’s a pause. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. It doesn’t make much sense though, why would he want to freak you out? That might make you stop posting on Fandom Rising, and that would be no good for him.’
He’s probably right, but I can’t think straight. ‘But what if he is? Maybe he hoped I’d tell the press and that would boost publicity even more. What if Russell’s the stalker and he’s poisoning my cocktail right now? I mean, that would be some pretty good publicity right there.’
‘Ok, you’ve got a point. Which bar are you at?’
‘The Willow Tree.’
Danny scoffs. ‘Wow, he really is a dick. Look, stay put, I’ll come get you.’
‘No, that will take too long.’ I scan the room. Why didn’t I leave the cocktail bar instead of coming to the bathroom? Now I can’t leave without Russell seeing. And I can’t face him right now. I’m a gibbering wreck. My eyes settle on the window. It’s cranked open slightly. ‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘I’ve found my escape route.’
By the time I get home, there’s ten missed calls from Russell. He’s probably never had a girl bail on him before. The thought makes me smile, but only briefly. I’ve just lost my best means of publicizing Fandom Rising, and Nate’s life support is turned off tomorrow. A tight ball of grief forms in my stomach.
My only hope is stopping Russell. Stopping him from posting on Fandalism so that the virus isn’t released, killing my friends. Even if he is my stalker, I need to speak to him and beg. I’ll offer him a trade – I’ll write the third book so long as he stops posting.
Mum shouts up the stairs. ‘Alice, a parcel just arrived for you.’
I grab my phone and head down the stairs. It’s nine at night. Who leaves post this late? The package sits on the kitchen table, a brown paper envelope. I turn it in my hands. There’s no stamp, no return address. Just my name. I assumed it was from my publishers, but this must have been hand-delivered. My legs begin to tremble.
‘Mum,’ I ask in a small voice.
‘Yeah.’
‘Who dropped this off?’
‘Dunno. It was left on the doorstep. I hope you haven’t started mail ordering make-up again, you remember it was knock-off last time and gave you spots.’
‘It was one spot,’ I mumble.
She rolls her eyes like she’s the teenager before leaving the room.
I’m left alone holding the package, thinking it could explode any moment. But still, I don’t put it down. I’m that clueless girl in the movies, the one that makes everyone shout, Don’t do it, don’t do it, step away from the envelope. But I have to know what’s inside. My hands are shaking and my heart is banging. Somehow, I manage to tear the paper open. I hold my breath. It doesn’t explode. Quit now while you’re ahead, I’m screaming at the stupid bimbo with the envelope. But instead, she peers inside.
It isn’t a bomb. It looks more like the top of a pen or something.
I tip the contents of the envelope on to the table, too afraid to touch it.
It’s the knife I cut Violet with.
My very own telltale heart.
Russell must have watched me put it in the bin.
Vomit rises up my throat. I’m about to chuck the knife back in the envelope before Mum reappears, when my phone rings.
It’s Russell.
Probably not the best time to speak, because I’m sure only bats and dogs will hear me, but I need to know. So I answer the call and try not to puke into the speaker.
‘Alice, beautiful,’ he says. ‘What happened? Are you OK?’
I look at the bloodied knife on my kitchen table. ‘Why were you at an internet café the other day?’
‘What? What does it matter?’
‘I need to know. Just tell me.’
He laughs, taken aback, the first time I’ve ever heard him anything other than smooth. ‘OK, OK, if it matters that much. I was just looking at my emails, looking at naked people on the internet, you know. Why do you care?’
‘Fanboy, as in your rival fanfic writer?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Is that why you did a runner?’ He lets out a sigh. ‘Thank God for that, I thought maybe I became less charming or something.’
‘Russell, I’m serious, why were you at that café?’
‘I was waiting for someone.’
‘Who?’
‘Alice, you’re behaving kind of strangely.’
Russell’s either lying about not being Fanboy, or he knows who Fanboy is. I’m about to press him further when ‘call waiting’ beeps in my ear. It’s Danny. ‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘I’ve got another call.’
Russell starts to speak, but I cut him off.
‘Danny? Danny, what is it?’
‘I tracked down the new IP address. I had a look on Google Maps and it’s most likely a block of flats. Didn’t you tell me Russell’s staying in a hotel?’
‘Yeah.’
‘In that case, I don’t think he’s Fanboy.’