Nine.

Astrid froze as the man walked on, oblivious of her presence and she slowly turned to see the buff shape reach the barred door of the unmarked store and rap on the door with his fist. Shaking herself, she raced after him as the door opened to admit him and burst through the door, leaping through the closing portal and landing in a gloomy corridor with peeling plaster and a flickering strip light. The murderer was walking unselfconsciously along until he arrived at a heavily armoured door, guarded by two large men in brown leather.

"The Boss will see you straight away," the man to the left growled and opened the door, allowing the murderer in. Astrid followed, hanging back as the man came to stand cockily on front of a desk, behind which sat a muscular man with close-cropped dark hair, deep brown eyes and a neat beard. He was dressed elegantly in black, his face frighteningly intelligent. At his shoulder stood a taller and much buffer man with very similar features, a shaven head and a stripe of a beard on his large chin. He was dressed in fawn and deep brown leather. The murderer gave a small laugh.

"Viggo!" he said in a sing-song voice. "Good to see you."

"Dagur," the man said in a cultured voice, "why are we repeating this encounter when we have been over this many times previously?"

"Because I really do have the money this time," the murderer revealed. The man in the chair-Viggo-flicked a page on his desk nonchalantly. Plain strip lights illuminated the space with a bare concrete floor and plain plaster walls. There were a few reddish-brown stains on the floor that looked like dried blood and Astrid suspected that they probably were.

"So you have all five hundred and seventy-three thousand, six hundred and twenty-nine dollars and eighty-one cents?" he asked pointedly. The murderer-whose name apparently was Dagur-gaped.

"Viggo-I'm sure my gambling debts were only three hundred odd thousand..." he protested. The larger man standing at Viggo's shoulder leaned forward.

"Interest," he growled. "You do understand I am a businessman, Dagur? I cannot have men use my facilities, accrue very substantial gaming debts and then fail to repay me. If I permitted you to get away without addressing your debts, what incentive would there be for others to honour their own obligations?" The murderer scowled, his fists tightening.

"I have obtained the means to give you the money," Dagur said tightly. "You'll get it, Viggo. And you, Ryker-keep away until I've finished. I don't need you trampling in and ruining my plans!" Viggo stared at him remotely and nodded.

"You have one week," he said. "After that, I will regrettably be compelled to demonstrate to you and my other clients what happens when you cheat Viggo Grimborn!" The murderer curled his lips.

"You'll get your money," he hissed and turned to the door. He stalked out, slamming the door closed and marching up the corridor before bursting out onto the grubby street. His face was locked in a ferocious scowl, his fists clenched tight as he stalked along the sidewalk, barging others aside in his rage. "Who the Helheim does he think he is?" the man growled. "Interest! It's just theft by another means and..."

His cell rang and he snatched it from his pocket. "Yeah?" he snapped then listened. "No, not well. I'll explain when you get home!" He abruptly ended the call. Frowning, Astrid tailed him at the distance of a couple of yards, dodging people on the street and walking fearlessly through a dark and dank alley, unafraid of the scritter of rats and creak of rotting fire-escapes because she was, as Ruff had pointed out, already dead. A hobo lurched out at Dagur, trying to wrestle him to the ground and rob him but the buff man flicked a knife out immediately, slamming it directly into the man's heart. The homeless man's bloodshot eyes widened in terminal shock and then he gasped and went limp, his spirit leaving even as the man lowered him into his space and rolled his body onto his side, so no one would see the stab wound.

Astrid backed away as the spirit looked around in shock and anger, trying to strike out at Dagur who was cleaning his knife on the dead man's ragged jacket. The dead man stared at her in shock.

"Didn't see yer there," he muttered and made to lunge at her...when the finest of moans sounded. He looked around and Astrid's eyes widened.

But a few bad souls...well, the others come for them. They're dark and flow and are terrifying...and no one ever escapes...

The dead hobo realised something was wrong as well as darkness coalesced around him, flowing like black sand. He tried to wrestle it off, to pull away as Astrid's azure eyes widened in sorrow and sympathy.

"Help me!" the man begged. And though she knew he must've lived a bad life to deserve this, she still found herself mouthing 'I'm sorry,' to the doomed spirit. Writhing, screaming and begging, the man was dragged by horrific shapes composed of black sand, their groaning cries filling the alley as the spirit was dragged away into the darkest corner of the alley by the black sand demons...and then he was gone.

Shivering and filled with a cold that she thought she couldn't feel, she ran after the murderer. Dagur had casually and without thought murdered the homeless man. She had to stop him.

She caught him as he entered a door at the back of the Korean market and raced up a long flight of stairs to a tiny apartment just under the roof. He sped into his home and she walked through the door, pausing to peer around the pace. There was a bed, a couple of chairs by the small cooker and a TV resting on a set of drawers at the end of the bed. Dagur ripped his jacket off and threw himself onto his bed, folding one arm behind the head-and the other snagging a small items that Astrid recognised as her pocket diary from her purse. Enraged, she grabbed at the diary-but her hand swished through. Again and again she grabbed as the man flipped through it.

"Can't see what she wants in this," he muttered, "but she's the clever one. I mean, I would never know how to get the money but she's got the whole thing planned..."

"You killed me for that?" she shouted. She swiped again and her hand went through her diary. "At least I have a name now-and an address. And I will find some way of making you face justice! You have Astrid Hofferson's word on that, you bastard!" Fuming and frustrated, she stalked through the door, memorising the number and address of the apartment before she sped down and into the street, heading back towards the alley...and then she froze. There was a familiar shape walking down the street, looking immensely out of place in the poor and dilapidated surroundings.

"Heather?" Astrid murmured, stopping by her friend and staring at her. "What are you doing here?" Heather peered past the ghost and walked straight on, heading for the Korean market-and then pulling the little side door open and entering the building. "Heather?"

She couldn't help it: she followed, worried about the safety of her friend in the building with the man who had murdered her. The strangeness of it all struck her-but nothing had prepared her for the overwhelming sensation of betrayal as she arrived at the door of the murderer-and rapped sharply. And even more so when the door opened and the murderer's face twisted into a smile.

"Hello, sister," said Dagur.

Astrid reeled, feeling as if her heart had plummeted to her stomach and as if she had been winded-even though she no longer breathed. Heather knew the man who killed her and that meant...

Heather walked in and held her hand out.

"Where is it?" she asked directly.

"Ooh-no kiss for your loving brother?" he said sarcastically.

"You were only supposed to grab her purse and run off," Heather snapped. "Why did you have to kill her?" Astrid stared at her in shock, not believing what her ears were hearing. Heather was her best friend, her closest confidante...she trusted Heather completely.

And Heather had betrayed her.

"She fought," Dagur told her, leaning forward and filching a can of beer from the tiny fridge. "What can I say? I never allow anyone to fight me. I have impulse control issues!"

"You promised!" Heather accused him angrily, not intimidated when he turned on her, his face a menacing mask.

"If you weren't my sister..." he began.

"...you'd already be dead at the hand of Viggo's enforcers," she reminded him harshly. "Three hundred and eight-three thousand dollars worth of gambling debts? Are you insane?"

"Duh!" the murderer scorned her. "I thought we'd already determined I am a psychopath! Both our parents realised that...well, before I shot them..." Heather rolled her eyes.

"You're the only family I have and you know I will do anything to help you-but you were not supposed to kill Astrid!" she snapped. "She was my friend." Dagur shrugged and wandered to the bed, picking up the little diary and handing it over.

"Not any more," he commented easily. Sighing in relief, Heather thumbed the little book open.

"Thank Thor," she sighed. "The access codes to the account. There may be enough in there with what I have to just cover the three eighty-three..." Dagur gave a low chuckle as he slumped on a seat.

"Actually, five seventy three and change," he admitted with a shrug and chugged most of the can. "Interest."

"Are you serious? Are you SERIOUS?" Heather shrieked in shock. "I'm already embezzling all of the firm's business account, spending all my savings-what I have left from after bailing you out from your debts in Berserk-and have become an accomplice in the murder of my best friend...and you're telling me that isn't going to be enough?"

"Nope!" Dagur said carelessly and got up to grab himself another beer. "Want one?"

"Of course I don't!" she snapped. "Odin's beard! Dagur-there isn't any more money! That is everything!" But her brother's pale green eyes narrowed and he bent down, picking up a tiny square of paper that had fallen from the diary. Cold eyes peered at the little image: a photo booth picture of Astrid and Hiccup, clinched close together, grinning and clearly deliriously happy.

"Who's the guy?" he asked with a frown. Heather peeked and made to snatch the picture away, but he deftly kept it from her grasp.

"Astrid's boyfriend, Hiccup Haddock," Heather said. "But you can't..."

"Has he got any money?" the murderer asked. "Or maybe you want to go to another funeral. You were most convincing, crying at hers..." Heather marched up to him, her fists balled and face furious.

"I was crying! She was my best friend-and I felt so guilty because my idiot psychopathic brother killed her when all he was supposed to do was snatch her purse so I could bail you out of your gambling debts..." Heather snarled.

He was at my funeral? Astrid thought, shocked and curiously disturbed. He was there, watching what he had caused, all that grief and pain...and he was just spectating.

"Haddock? As in that financial guy your firm was dealing with?" Dagur pressed and Heather nodded.

"His son. He's an artist, a sculptor and potter," Heather said defensively.

"Damned right-he's completely innocent in this and if you hurt him, Heather..." Astrid growled. There was a sudden rattle of the window and both siblings looked up.

"Subway," Dagur said dismissively. "We're over the Nordstrom line here..." He pushed Heather back, a hand clamping on her shoulder. "We need that money within seven days or I am dead, sis. So do you think his father will pay for his son?" Heather looked at him in shock.

"You have to promise not to hurt him-or I will leave you to Viggo and Ryker," she said in a low voice.

"Oh-no, NO!" Astrid shouted. "You can't do this! Heather-you were my friend. I trusted you I trusted you! You can't do this to him now! Please..."

"No point killing him until I get the ransom," Dagur growled. "These negotiators are getting too clever by half. They keep wanting proof of life..."

"NO KILLING!" Heather snapped at him.

"You're not going along with this?" Astrid exclaimed, backing away. "I can't believe..."

"You know I never really mean to..." Dagur protested in a singsong voice but his sister slapped his face.

"Focus!" she growled. "You cannot kill him. I can't lose you, Dagur-but Hiccup doesn't deserve to die. Just...be careful. And if there's a problem-run WITHOUT shooting!"

"Where's the fun in that...?" Dagur whined petulantly and his sister glared at him.

"Look-I'll tip you off-and then we can apparently 'receive' the ransom request from you at the office," she said coldly. "Stoick will easily pay a quarter of a million for his son. And then you return him safe and sound..." Dagur gave a cruel smile.

"Maybe..." he said.

Astrid couldn't take any more. The bottom had fallen from her world: her supposed best friend had in fact set up the robbery-well, who else knew exactly where and when Astrid would be meeting Hiccup to romantically declare her love of him except her best friend? The best friend who had finally talked Astrid into acknowledging her own feelings and deciding to declare her love and say those three words. It was Heather's own brother who had killed Astrid and Heather was protecting him. She had been killed so Heather could embezzle the firm funds to save her brother from being killed for his gambling debts.

And you never came to me, Astrid thought, heart-broken. I said you could come to me for anything. I would help you with anything. Had you, I would have lent you the money. I would have helped out. Money can be replaced-people never can...

And, desolate, she walked through the wall and slowly down the stairs, not waiting to finish listening to the conversation. Well, she had heard all she could stomach-and then as she reached the street, another problem hit her. She had no way to warn Hiccup, no way to protect him...no hope of keeping him safe.

Except by being with him, she guessed and desperately began to walk back towards the house. But her heart grew heavier with every step and by the time she got back to the home she had shared with Hiccup, she felt utterly despondent and hopeless. The lights were on and she walked through the door, seeing Toothless resting on his dog bed on the main landing. She could hear the wheel running up in the studio and she knew that Hiccup was working. But before she went up to be with him-because after the horrible revelations of the day, she really really wanted to just be with him-preferably safe in his arms-she crouched down before the black mutt.

"Toothless," she said gently and the bright green eyes opened, ears pricking. "I need you to do something for me." There was the thump as the feathery tail hit the floor. "I'll take that as a 'go on'," she added with a smile, trying to tousle the dog's ears. "There is a very bad man out there who is after Hiccup," she sighed. "He's Heather's brother. And she's not a friend ether now. The bad man wants to kidnap Hiccup-maybe hurt him. I want you to protect Hiccup, okay? When I can't do it, look after Hiccup and protect him for me, okay?"

The dog whined, his tail wagging and tongue hanging to as he gave his doggy smile. She wrapped a ghostly hug around him and closed her eyes in gratitude.

"Thanks, Toothless," she said gently. "I know I can rely on you to keep him safe...because you're the only one who loves him as much as I do."