The moment Lyric is out of sight, Wybie and I climb onto his bike and speed toward the house he shares with his grandmother. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as we go, and the reassurance that I'm not alone in wanting this thing dealt with ASAP makes me feel a little better about things. 

Thankfully the house isn't that far from the well or the Pink Palace, so we get there in no time flat just as Wybie's grandmother is stepping out onto the porch. "Oh, hello, Coraline," she greets me.

She's used to me coming over all the time to see Wybie so my presence isn't out of the ordinary. "Hi, Mrs. Lovat," I respond. I've been debating in my head whether I want to fill her in on what's going on. On one hand, she's been through hell and back already, what with the Beldam stealing her twin sister and then making her worry for Wybie's safety all the time. On the other, she might be able to help us keep Lyric out of that place.

"So, have you gotten a chance to meet your new neighbours yet?"

"One of them," I tell her. Then I sigh, because she really does deserve to be kept in the loop. Here goes nothing. "To be honest, Mrs. Lovat, I'm worried about her. The Beldam's so impatient to have her that she already tried getting this to her." I hold up the black button key.

A flicker of terror crosses Mrs. Lovat's face. Then she nods in understanding. "Well, I'm certainly grateful you managed to grab it from her in time. Last thing we need's that witch getting her hands on anyone else."

"That's why we want to destroy this," Wybie tells her, determination lighting his eyes. I'm sure my expression is similar. "So, uh, we're gonna be out back for awhile."

Mrs. Lovat nods approvingly. "Go on, then," she says. And we do.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in Wybie's backyard trying to find a way to permanently put the key out of commission. And yes, I do mean the entire time, for no matter what methods we try, the thing won't get a single dent in it. We try stuff like warping the end with heat, crushing it with different tools, and even using a rock at one point since it worked on the skeleton hand.

Nothing, not even a scratch.

Wybie sighs, collapsing wearily into a lawn chair. "So, I guess, uh...locking it away somewhere'll have to do, huh, Jonesy?"

I give a defeated sigh. "Looks like it, yeah."

Thus, when I return to my flat later that evening, the demon doll and its key are still in my possession.

As I twist the knob on the front door, I feel a painfully sharp stab in my right leg. It feels like one you'd get from a needle, and it automatically makes me flinch. I can't stand needles, to the point where it's become on of my biggest phobias. I realize at once that the doll must be holding it, the Beldam attempting to punish me for trying to destroy her precious key. Not to mention tearing it and the doll away from her would-be new victim. Yeah, well, tough shit. You're not going to hurt her.

"Hey, Coraline," Mom calls, not looking up from her laptop. She's relaxing on the couch as she types away, the computer perched on her lap. If it weren't for the way she has the screen tilted, I'd be concerned about the impact that position is having on her neck.

I briefly wave back, not thinking about the fact that she wouldn't see that kind of response, as I speed down the hall into my room and shut the door behind me a little too forcefully. I toss my bag onto my bed as if it's covered in venomous spikes and, after a moment of hesitation, I open it harshly to reveal the doll. A sharp needle, as I predicted, is gripped in its little hand. "Sorry, but I'll be taking this," I tell it, glaring daggers straight into its pitch black button eyes as I pick it up and rip the needle away. "I can't have you hurting anyone else. And I know you can hear me, don't try to pretend you can't."

Hoping it will keep Lyric and her family out of danger, I lock the spy-doll up in a chest at the foot of my bed along with the key and, keeping it firmly out of my sight as I carry it, store the needle in my mother's sewing kit.

I try to get to sleep as best I can when night falls, but it takes ages and when I do manage to drift off, the frightening, all-too-familiar images of the Beldam, the door, the key and the doll invade my mind once again. They refuse to leave me alone, to let me have even a little bit of peaceful sleep. I wake up in my usual anxiety-fueled state, just barely able to suppress a scream and struggling to stop the fear that threatens to swallow me whole. 

I climb out of bed and brush strands of my dark blue hair out of my eyes in frustration as I pace back and forth, trying to calm down. Hot tears begin to flood. "W-why won't this just stop...?" I cry brokenly, the utter fear bringing me to my knees and making me close in on myself, hugging myself tightly to keep from falling apart any further.

I catch my reflection in the floor-length mirror on the wall next to my dresser. My face stares back at me with button eyes.

"No!" I blink fiercely and, to my relief, my eyes are the same light brown they always have been when I check the mirror again. No buttons there. You're safe.

Well...so much for moving down here making these stupid nightmares go away. I heave a sigh of defeat, resting my forehead on my knees as the tears continue trickling down my cheeks. They might never go away, I realize, I might be stuck with them for the rest of my life. A headache is forming behind my eyes, but I can't even bring myself to get up and grab an ibuprofen. At least I didn't scare my parents with my screaming this time...

An hour ticks past before I finally will myself to get up from my place on the floor. Thankfully there are no creaky stairs to worry about, so I creep into the kitchen in search of a hot chocolate packet. It's not like I'll be able to get back to sleep at this point, anyway. I'm thinking maybe a warm drink might help calm me down, and I know we should at least have one left. I manage to find it at the very back of the designated 'snack' cupboard, which Mom recently decided to repaint a rich, glossy black. Focusing on the paint job instead of the dreams helps ground me a little bit, so I think back to its original shade of blue. The paint was chipping away so much that it'd been about time to fix it up, but I do wish she'd gone for something a little more cheerful than black. I do like the glossy shine it has now, though, and I can take comfort in it being her choice, not something the Beldam dreamt up.

Filling a mug with warm water and putting it in the microwave, I have to roll my eyes at the annoying beep that sounds every single time I press a button (Because, you know, I'm trying to wake up my parents at four in the morning). Thank God the only other steps are to empty the powder into the mug and stir, both of which I manage to accomplish quietly before bringing the mug outside and into the garden.

Even though the temperature is mild enough that I haven't bothered to put on shoes or a sweater, I clutch my mug of hot chocolate like it's a lifeline, taking a small sip as I move to sit cross-legged on one of the garden walls close to the greenhouse. I take a few deep breaths as I take note of my surroundings in an attempt to stay out of my own thoughts. In the dim, early-morning light, it's easy to see that the grass is wet with dew. Fireflies flit around, lighting up every so often, and the crickets keep a steady chorus going. The setting moon isn't quite full yet, but it's definitely getting there, and it manages to team up with the tiny sliver of visible sun to cast a magical light over the garden. Despite my frazzled state, I have to admire the sight.

Guess waking up this early isn't entirely the worst...

I sigh though, since I know sometime in the next little while Mr. Bobinsky is bound to get up and start exercising. Yes, at four A.M. Usually I don't notice since his voice is muffled by the fact that I'm indoors, but then I get mornings like this one where my brain won't leave me alone andI have to come out here to relax. You can bet I notice it then.

"Can't sleep either?" a new voice cuts through my thoughts. To my utter surprise, I turn to see Lyric standing a couple feet away from the garden wall wearing a black tank top and purple-and-black plaid pyjama bottoms.

Oh, shit, she's not another early riser, is she?

"Nope," I confirm, my voice coming out weary and hoarse.

"That blows. Glad I'm not the only one, at least. I can never sleep well the first night in a new place. Yet I can sleep fine in vehicles, go figure. Guess I've always just been weird like that."

"Fair enough," I reply, not really sure how else I'm meant to respond to that.

Lyric doesn't fail to notice the state I'm in. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, just had a bad nightmare," I tell her, "I don't want to talk about it, though."

"Hey, no pressure. Nightmares suck." Lyric hesitates, then adds, "Mind if I join you?"

I shrug. "Yeah, sure."

"Thanks. There's just no way I can get back to sleep, plus you look like you could use some company," says Lyric a little sheepishly, settling on the garden wall beside me.

"I could, honestly, yeah," I admit, thesmallest hint of a chuckle escaping me.  It's true. I don't like having to handle these nightmares alone and usually when I find myself out here the cat joins me.

Huh, where is the little wuss-puss, anyway?

I glance around in search of him, which Lyric notices. "What's up?"

"Oh, just trying to see if the cat's around. Usually, his purring helps me calm down from nightmares. And he knows it, too."

"What makes you say that?" Lyric tilts her head curiously.

"I mean, it's like clockwork. He sees me sitting out here, two seconds later he's in my lap," I tell her, "Trust me, he knows." Just as those words leave my mouth, I hear Mr. Bobinsky's apartment door open and the start of counting in Russian that indicates the start of his workout. I sigh, shaking my head a little. "And here we go."

"Wait – does he really do this every morning?" Lyric's eyes are wide.

"Yup. Less noticeable when you're inside and sleeping, but still. It's either this or getting up early to train the jumping mice."

Lyric whistles. "Damn, he's committed."

"Yeah, no shit." We share a laugh.

We sit in (almost) silence for a moment, me sipping my hot chocolate and Lyric with a thoughtful expression on her face. Then she says, "To be honest, I think it would be cooler if he could teach them to sing somehow. I mean, there's nothing wrong with a jumping mouse circus, but..."

I get where she's going with this. "Not your thing?"

"Not really, no."

"Huh, that's a shame. Last time he talked to me about it sounded like he was still trying to get the circus music figured out. You could have given him suggestions," I nudge her playfully.

Lyric grins. "Like what?"

"Well, I don't know. What kind of music are you into?"

Lyric's grin turns into a laugh. "Oh, God, I highly doubt the mice could perform anything by Thousand Foot Krutch!"

 "Assuming that's a rock band, probably not!" I have to smile, too, at the mental picture of Mr. B's mice trying to pull that off.

"Okay, well, in general I could see a little rodent acapella group being a hit - oh, wait, that's Alvin and the Chipmunks. Still, it's not like they ever do rock band covers in those movies!"

"Just imagine them trying to sing a Metallica song," I add, "Or Five Finger Death Punch!"

We laugh together some more about the idea, then we spend longer than we realize trying to come up with different songs we think would sound the most out-of-place in the chipmunk voices. Eventually we come to agree that any hard rock is off the table, but that they could probably get away with pop rock if they wanted.

"But nah, in all seriousness, when it comes to Mr. B's mice, he should really just write original music for them if he ever decides to try the singing thing. Even though I doubt that'll ever happen," says Lyric.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a jumping mouse circus. Don't knock it 'til you've actually seen one," I protest. 

One in this world, anyway.

Lyric rolls her eyes amusedly. "I know, I know. People keep telling me all the time to expand my horizons. Especially my mom."

I nod. I know that feeling. "Yeah, my parents say that to me all the time when it comes to food. But to be fair, my dad's recipes are God-awful!"

"Oh, I can only imagine!" As she says those words, Lyric glances around us at the increasingly lightened sky. "Wow, I didn't realize how long we've been out here. It's been a lot of fun!"

"Honestly, yeah, it has," I agree, "And hey, thanks again for joining me. I know I said it before, but you were right. I definitely needed the company."

Lyric takes my hand and squeezes it, and I have to admit, the gesture is just as comforting. I just hope I can pay her back by keeping her from facing the same things I did. 

Speaking of which...

"Well, uh - I should probably go take care of some stuff, but maybe in a bit I can show you around Ashland? I bet I can get Wybie to come, too - we can make it a group thing."

Lyric's eyes light up. "Yeah, sounds pretty good. Meet up on the main porch in a couple hours?"

"Yup. See you then!"

With that, I dash down to my apartment, into my room, and to the foot of my bed. Anything in my conversation with Lyric could give the Beldam ideas for what to lure Lyric with. I need to make sure the doll is still where I left it!

In my haste I nearly forget to grab the padlock's key from its hiding spot. After that, though, I move as fast as I can in getting the thing open, but to my shock and horror, it's completely empty. 

The doll and the button key are both gone.