Saturday 31st October 1992

Time seemed to melt away as Becca danced. In all her seventeen years, eleven months and twenty-eight days, she'd never felt so totally and utterly free. At that moment in time, gone was her grief, gone was her life of restriction, with its incessant rules, structure and moderation in all things, and gone was her uncle. Feeling almost weightless, she wouldn't have been surprised if she'd floated up off the dirt floor.

Thirsty and a little out of breath, Becca left Ben and the others on the dance floor and headed for the make-shift bar which was aligned along the rear wall of the barn. Two people tended the bar- a gum-chewing girl in a tight, neon-pink jumpsuit wearing cat's ears and whiskers, and a rather all-too realistic-looking Pennywise, the clown. Becca joined the queue and waited a while until the girl came over to her.

"Yeah?"

"A bottle of water, please."

The girl nodded and took a bottle from an old tin bath that was filled with ice. "Five quid."

Becca's eyes opened wide. "Five pounds, for a bottle of water!"

"Err, yeah!" The girl held out her hand while Becca fumbled in the rear pocket of her kilt.

"It's okay, I've got this."

Becca looked up to see a man handing over a £5 note.

"Thanks, but you didn't have to, I've ..."

"My pleasure."

"Thank you." Becca opened the bottle and downed it in one. The cool liquid made her shiver.

"Thirsty, I see," asked the man who was still standing next to her at the bar.

"Yes," she panted, "It's so hot in here."

"Hot as hell."

Becca laughed and fanned herself, "probably".

"Hey love, want to come and get all sweaty with me."

Becca jumped as she felt a hand caress her arm. She turned to see someone who almost resembled her old French teacher-only older and even less attractive, if that was possible- who was leering at her. Soaked in sweat, he pushed his hands through his wringing wet hair and droplets flicked onto Becca's face. She cringed. "No, thanks." She took a step away from him.

"Don't know what you're missing love. There's still plenty of energy in these batteries". He took a step closer towards her and leaned in for a kiss.

Becca put her hand up to stop him getting any closer. "I said no thank you. My... err... boyfriend is..." Panicking, she looked around, hoping Ben or Josh were near, but the only person familiar to her was the man who'd just bought her the water, who was now also staring intently at her, wearing a slightly shocked expression on his face. For a second, he remained utterly motionless, but then as if awoken abruptly from deep slumber, he surged forward.

"And that boyfriend is standing right here. I suggest you clear off, mate."

The sweaty man looked the water-guy up and down and grinned. "What's your problem?"

"No problem, mate, you just need to move away from here."

"I'll stand where the hell I want and I'll speak to whoever the hell I want," the sweaty man drawled, his eyes rolling. "And there's nothing you can do about it." He lurched forward and raised his right arm, taking a swing with his clenched right fist. The water-guy ducked to one side and the sweaty man stumbled forward having missed his target. With a roar, he went in for a second attempt.

"To hell with this," the water-guy muttered and in one fluid motion, his own fist connected with the sweaty man's nose, resulting in an unnatural cracking sounded, followed by an agonised howl.

Becca took several steps back, as the two bouncers she'd seen at the door, rushed forward and spoke quietly to the water-guy. Becca was concerned he might get thrown out for defending her, even though she couldn't condone his actions in doing so. A few moments later, the bouncers simply scraped the sweaty, now bleeding man, off the floor, dragging him to the doors and out into the night. They didn't return.

"Sorry about that. Are you okay?"

"What?" Becca still stared towards the exit as the large doors closed.

"I said, are you okay?'"

She turned back to the water-guy, "yes, I'm fine."

There it was again, that odd look on his face. His mouth opened slightly. She watched as he inhaled, as if he was tasting the air, savouring it in fact. Oddly, she felt a strange pulling sensation towards him, but it was gone before she could really process it.

"You're shaking."

Becca looked down and saw her hands were trembling.

"Come on, let's go and sit down over there. Maybe I can get you something stronger than water to drink?"

Whether it was because of what had just happened or maybe the exhaustion she'd been experiencing earlier had returned, her legs began to feel a bit wobbly.

"A sit-down would be good."

"Follow me."

The empty seats were now just on her right, but he made a beeline passed them and headed for a wooden staircase in the corner. She stopped as he climbed the first two steps. "I'm not sure..."

"Hey, don't worry. These stairs are safe, trust me. The VIP area is up here and it's a little quieter."

With her legs now feeling utterly leaden, reluctantly she followed him up, passing a bouncer at the top of the stairs. He nodded to the water-guy and moved to one side, allowing them to pass into an area where several large, red suede sofas overlooked the dance floor. Muted low lighting came from frosted, orb-shaped lamps on table. On the furthest sofa, an older man was seated between two considerably younger women, all drinking lurid-pink cocktails. The three of them looked at Becca for a moment longer than she felt comfortable and then they began to laugh.

"Sorry, I think I am going to go back to my friends."

"It's just a sofa, it won't bite." The water-guy was already seated at the opposite end of the other sofa and he gestured for Becca to sit down. "I'm guessing this is your first time at a rave."

"Yes," Becca replied, as she perched herself on the very edge of the seat. "You?"

"Not my first time, no. Once a raver, always a raver," he grinned. "I like dance music, but to be honest I prefer the music of the seventies."

It was only at this point that Becca really took notice of the water-guy's strange appearance and realised that maybe this wasn't a fancy-dress costume he was wearing. Looking like a throwback from the punk era, he was clearly not your average rave-goer, wearing tight black jeans with more zips than were actually necessary and a red t-shirt, sporting the slogan, 'pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name'. Above that, he wore a short leather biker jacket, which had several studs and chains adorning it. The 70s-punk vibe wasn't limited to just his clothes. His black hair had clearly been purposefully styled to look random and scruffy.

He smiled at her and she felt embarrassed at her level of scrutiny of him. Fine lines creased at the sides of his eyes, but his dark hair showed no signs of loss or grey. She couldn't put an age to him, but she felt him to be older, much older than her. There was also something oddly familiar about him.

"Have we met before?" she asked.

He smirked. "No, I don't think so. I'm sure I'd remember you, if we had."

A woman in a harlequin-patterned body stocking approached holding a tray with two of the cocktails she'd seen earlier. Without a word, the woman placed them on the table and then sashayed away. The water-guy leaned forward and picked his glass up, flicking the umbrella and fruit decorations onto the mirrored surface of the table.

"Bottoms up." His grey eyes twinkled as he tipped the glass up and downed the drink. He placed the glass back on the table, gestured to her glass and waited.

"Oh, no thank you, I don't drink."

He roared with laughter. "Why ever not?"

Her spine stiffened and she looked away from him. "I just don't like the taste," she replied.

She heard him sigh and turned back to find his eyes were closed, lips slightly parted and the fingers on his right hand had begun to circle like he was rotating an invisible ball. She felt the need to avert her eyes, as if she was interrupting something, but his eyes shot open and fixed upon hers in a stare, so penetrating, it was like he was now observing her on a molecular level. She fidgeted on the arm of the chair and turned her attentions to her new friends in the centre of the dance floor below. More specifically, her attention turned to Ben, whose body now moved as if the music was emanating from within him. Back lit by brilliant white strobes, there was something almost ethereal about him. It made her heart pound harder just looking at him and she felt the urge to join him.

"Thank you." She stood up, "I am feeling less wobbly now and I really should get back to my friends."

The water-guy sighed. "Must you really, Becca?"

"Yes, I..." She shivered.

"But we have so much to discuss, Becca."

Twice now he'd used her name, but not once could she remember having given it to him.

"I cannot begin to say how delighted I am that you came here tonight. When one organises such events, one hopes... no, one longs, for the night to turn out just like this."

Intrigued, she perched again on the arm of the chair. "So, this is your event?"

He nodded. That explained why he hadn't been manhandled off the property by the bouncers.

"What are you then? A DJ, some sort of promoter?"

He laughed again. "A promoter. I like that term very much. I might use that in future. No, I'm more, what you'd call, a collector."

"Of music?"

"Not quite."

"How is it you know my name?"

He snickered. "Well, you are wearing it around your neck."

She touched at the stretchy plastic choker at her throat, feeling the five small beads that spelled out her name.

She heard more laughter and looked back to the other sofa. The older man, who she realised was dressed as a vampire, had placed both his arms over the back of the chair and was now reclined, his legs splayed. The two girls with him were dressed up like the twins from The Shining Movie. As one of them picked up his hand and started to gently suck his little finger, the other girl had moved and was now straddled herself across his lap. Leaning forward, she ran her tongue along his neck and up over his jawline. The man looked over at Becca and gave her a lecherous wink, inviting her over with a tilt of his head. She turned away quickly.

"Relax, Becca. He's just having a little fun. Everyone needs a little fun, occasionally."

She didn't like the change of tone in the water-guy's voice. If he thought she was going to do anything like that with him, he had a long night of disappointment ahead of him.

"It really is time for me to go." Becca stood up and made to leave. She took one step forward and her breath caught in her throat. Around her, the world had stopped, silent and frozen. She looked down to Ben and just like everyone else around him, he was standing as still as a stone statue, his hands pointing into the air, his mouth wide open. Megan and Josh were attached at the lips, unmoving in their embrace. Xia was sat on top of Kendal's shoulders, her hands held out in front of her like she was holding a transparent box. Not even the strobe lights moved, their beams of light now resembling Light Sabers from Star Wars, fixed in place.

She turned around slowly. The man on the sofa was also immobile, as was the girl, whose hand was now attached to his zipper.

Becca's breathing became shallower and faster. She felt a faint ringing in her ears, as cold sweat began to run down her back.

"I call this my Kodak moment." His voice made her jump.

"Wh... who... what..."

He laughed at her again. The sound was hollow, and it echoed around the now silent barn, like it was an enormous cave.

"Oh Becca, don't fret so, it's only temporary. Anyway, they've all been dancing so hard, I'm sure they could all do with a rest anyway."

She swallowed. "Who... are you?"

"A wannabe guitarist for The Clash, clearly." He chuckled. "Sorry, you're obviously in no mood for jokes, right now." He brushed a piece of lint off his jacket. "My name is Ashmadalak."

"Asthma?" she questioned. He'd said his name so fast, in a dialect she didn't recognise.

"No," he replied a little frostily. "Ash-ma-da-lak. It's an old family name. You can call me Ash, if you like? But not Ashley. I hate Ashley."

Becca surveyed the dance floor again. Nothing had altered. Nothing moved. Even the smoke-filled air seemed rigid.

Reluctantly, she turned back to the water-guy. She didn't want to ask the question, but she knew she had to. "What are you?"

He gave a satisfied smile. "Do you want the short or the long answer?"

He was enjoying this.

"The short."

"A demon."

She almost laughed. This had to be a Halloween joke, surely? A set up or maybe she was at one of those hypnotist shows and soon he'd produce a Yorkshire Terrier and use it to try and hypnotise her into mooing like a cow. There could be no other rational explanation. She waited for someone to shout, 'surprise' or 'you're on candid camera', but nothing happened; the silence seemed to grow around her,

She did start laughing now, a laugh tinged with a little hysteria. "If...," she said, trying to catch her breath, "...you're a demon, then what do you want from me?"

"Ah, finally we get to the most important question." He paused for a minute and tilted his head to one side. "Put very simply, Becca, you possess a unique kind of soul. A very fragile one and unlike everybody else, every time you do something wrong, a misdeed so-to-speak, your soul loses a little part of itself; a little bit of it chips off. I like to call these pieces, Splinters, and as a Splinter Gathering Demon or SGD..." he punctuated the letters using his fingers in the air, "I collect your splinters and..., how do I put this so not to freak you out too much?" He paused for a second. "I consume them."

Her legs went from beneath her and she landed heavily onto her knees. She clutched at the edge of the sofa, holding on for support, holding on to her sanity.

"Your splinters contain such energy, Becca, consuming them is akin to drinking a bottle of Lucozade before one plays a game of badminton. Only so much more potent."

She was wheezing now.

"At the moment tough, the splinters are just too small. I need more, lots more. So, you and I are going to have heaps of fun together over the next few weeks."

He gave her an over-exaggerated wink.

Lights twinkled before her eyes, or were they in her eyes? Little streaks of colour flashing with increased frequency. Her vision began to swim, everything twisting and distorting, funnelling into the centre like water flowing down a plug hole. And then nothing. A black, empty nothing. Again.