Theo coughed and lifted his head rapidly from his chest, his thoughts full of the last image he had seen before collapsing. However, as he reared, his body jarred, coming up against tough resistance that dug through his thin shirt. He came to a halt, distracted and breathing hard and trying to get his senses to catch up with whatever had happened. He blinked and looked around, but the room was black and he could see nothing. Panic was his first reaction as he found himself tied to a heavy chair that had not even shifted with his movements. His wrists were fixed to the arms, his ankles to the legs and his torso was wrapped in half a dozen turns of rope, making deep breaths difficult. However, then he heard a moan, very definitely from his twin and not very far away, and the panic sank behind worry.
"Remy?" he checked in a hiss, not wanting to alert his blank-faced captor.
"Ugh," was the only response.
"Remy!" Theo snarled a little louder, anxious for a better reply.
"He'll be back with us soon," a voice Theo had not expected to hear told him dryly.
"Bill?"
For one horrified moment, Swanson and his attacker became one and the same, and many hours of trust threatened to evaporate. However, suddenly, a light flicked on immediately overhead and his true predicament hit him. He was tied into one of three chairs that were arranged around a small table. On that table sat the Diablo Ouija, fully equipped with its demonic dolly holding the planchette. The other two seats were occupied, one by Remy, still coming round, opposite him and Swanson in the one to his right. He glanced at his ex-mentor and was given a grimace in return. The man's hair was tangled and one of the lenses of his glasses was broken.
"What happened?" he asked, looking around, but not able to see any movement in the circle of light the hooded shade created.
"Got jumped in the shop," Swanson replied.
"Who?" Theo mouthed rather than asked.
As if in reply, the devil doll, slumped in its cradle at the edge of the board, slowly lifted its head.
"Gentlemen, so good of you to join me," Holiday's voice appeared to come out of the mannequin and set Theo's teeth on edge.
"Where are you, who is doing this?" Theo demanded, ignoring the doll and looking once more for the source of the manipulation.
"Don't you recognise me, Detective Haward?" the doll asked, looking in his direction.
"Raymond Holiday is dead," Theo told the room in general.
Laughter greeted his statement, echoing around the dark space.
"Oh, limited little policeman, for all your magic, you understand nothing. I go on."
Theo refused to believe that and glared at the painted, unmoving yellow eyes.
"Dolls don't steal themselves," Theo retorted and glanced at Swanson for some back up.
Yet, his ex-partner was staring at the doll with something near resignation.
"I had a little help," the doll continued to speak with Holiday's voice and looked over its own shoulder.
Theo followed the move and finally was given a full look at the ghost that had assaulted him as a figure stepped into the light. The blank expression was in fact a white mask surrounded by a close-fitting black hood. That disappeared into a ruff that flopped over the owner's shoulders. The mask showed one, small, black tear drop and the clothes went with it, a loose-fitting, pierrot clown costume: it was the clothing Felix Alinson had been wearing on the night he had been kidnapped from the student party he had been attending.
"Felix?" Theo didn't want to believe that the quiet youth was behind the mask.
"What?" Swanson surprised him with the incredulity and he glanced his way. "Felix Alinson?"
Theo nodded.
"That boy is dead," Swanson sighed.
Theo's brain skipped past the part where the police computer had not known that and on to the more urgent question of, "Then who?"
"Chloe," Remy announced that he was much more awake than he had shown as he raised his head and looked over to their masked captor.