A Night To Die For (Event #1)

Christian was talking to Ryan Gosling and his wife, Hannah, as well as a few others when she returned. She approached him naturally, smiling at whoever she met the eyes of as she passed, but when she came up to him she put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away as much as she could without seeming rude.

“Sorry, mind if I take Chris for a second?” She asked as they were backing away.

“Sure, we’re fine.” Ryan grinned and pulled his wife’s head towards him for a kiss on her cheek she couldn’t escape from. She grinned and leant into it.

Christian smiled and raised his hand in parting. He turned to his partner and looked with a wry smile at her feet. “You were out of those for what, forty-five minutes?”

“Hey, at least I got up the red carpet without them!” She defended, playing along as she led them away from couples in earshot. As soon as she did she stood on tiptoe, he was now 7 inches taller than her, with her hand on his shoulder.

“Lindsay Lohan’s committed suicide, in a car in the garage.” She informed him hurriedly.

“What!?” He asked and pulled away to look at her in utter seriousness. Thankfully they were already on the edges of the dance floor so didn’t need to move away from prying ears.

“Drug overdose, the needle was still in her arm.” She murmured and he blew out his cheeks.

She eyed a long-legged balding man with a hooked nose swaggering through the couples a distance away from them, mostly standing out because there was a chorus of exclamations from the women he staggered far too close to be an accident. She frowned.

“Jesus, guess this was her idea of a dramatic exit.” Christian said and she nodded, turning her attention back to him, but looked sideways and rubbed the side of her neck with her hand. “What?” He asked in a prolonged way as he correctly guessed that she was holding back.

“That wasn’t the only thing.” Tara said but broke off when she noticed Laura, Emily, Ben and Mark re-entering the ballroom. They were arguing over something, she supposed over what to do with the body, but quietened when they came into range of the guests and spread out to mingle. They all looked visibly shaken, but put their best sociable faces on and Tara thought perhaps it was just her who was seeing right through them.

“Whoa, are you serious man?!” A deep voice cried out and they both snapped their heads around to see Ryan standing protectively in front of his wife Hannah who’d just slapped the long-legged man’s hand away from her body. It was Matt Lauer, infamous presenter of NBC’s The Today Show.

“You think we haven’t noticed, you touching up every girl you can since you arrived?” He demanded and cocked his head. “And now you try and lay your filthy claws on my wife?!” He shoved him backwards. More heads began to turn.

Matt staggered and then put his hands up with a sleazy grin that had won so many interviewees of his over. “Hey now, I did not mean any offence to your beautiful wife, of-” He lingered too long on the word “beautiful” and Ryan snapped. Hannah reached out a restraining hand too late as her husband shook his head and delivered a punch from his shoulder. Matt dodged and then they lunged at each other.

People backed away from them in a circle, neither moving in to stop it or cheering them on, despite Hannah’s protests for them to stop. Christian was about to go in to pull one of them away himself when Ryan and Hannah’s cannonball of a friend Channing Tatum burst through the circle of onlookers. After a moment of surveying the scuffle he dived in and grabbed Matt by the armpits, allowing Hannah to quickly pull back her enraged husband.

“Let it go Ryan, leave him.” Channing told his friend as he threw Matt away from him in disgust.

“The disgusting weasel doesn’t deserve even that.” Channing’s blonde-and-purple-haired wife Kelly added with a curled lip, slightly out of breath as she’d only just caught up with her husband’s mad dash to aid his closest friend.

Matt sneered at all of them and crawled to his feet, tentatively wiping his burst upper lip, and staggered off into the shadows of the dance hall. Everybody parted to let him go, he didn’t lunge for “support” at any women now. Hannah pulled back Ryan in retreat so she could attend to his face, Channing and Kelly followed and everybody resumed their activities now the drama had dissipated.

Tara turned back to find Christian frowning down at her, in concern, curiosity or impatience she couldn’t tell. She led him further back to the wall and continued: “There was a note, some Shakespeare quote, I can’t remember it, but one part said something about Lindsay being the first strike on the clock and there’ll be nine more before the night ends. Ben said there were drag marks leading to the passenger door. They think it’s a murder.” She told him, her voice going lower and lower even though there weren’t any others nearby. He frowned.

“She could have written that too, if she wasn’t so dumb to begin with. But did you see the marks?” He asked. She groaned conflictingly.

“Not clearly, they could have been anything; we’re always dragging things in the garage. But the landline’s not working and the mobiles have been cut off, try it yourself!” She urged, contradicting her disbelief of the suspicion, and he did. Only to find his had no signal either.

“There could be any reason for that.” He said as he pocketed it, the same thing she’d been telling herself as she came down.

“But the phones were fine twenty minutes ago, all of them.” She said but could see he wasn’t buying it. “I mean even if it was murder, but an accidental drunken one, the note could have been a cover-up, but it’s too complicated for that.” She sighed as she talked herself around in circles. “I need a drink.” She said and he agreed. They went over to the white-clothed drinks table by the wall and she halted as she looked at the identical rows of wine glasses.

“Not that kind of drink.” She amended and was saved by a brown bottle waved teasingly in front of her face.

“Pure, traditional and feisty ginger beer!” Proclaimed their other Scottish friend, James McAvoy, as he took a swig out of his own bottle. “Keep you dancing all night and away from this fancy stuff. Tastes like flowers.” He said and Tara took the proffered bottle. “Christian?” He asked and held out his bottle. Christian shook his head and James shrugged, taking another swig. “Nice shoes by the way.” He said to Tara, utterly unaware of the discussion he’d interrupted. “I would have worn mine, but traditional dress shoes and all that, the girls love “em. Not to mention the pap will murder you.” He rambled on. Tara flinched at the word but smiled in acknowledgement. He frowned at her ashen face. “What? Did Lauer grab your bum too?” He jested and was about to ask on it further, Christian prepared an excuse to cut him off, but then they were all cut off by the cheers of the crowd and Tom Hiddleston appearing on the stage.

“Here we go, first announcement of the night.” James said and both Tara and Christian looked at him sideways, but he noticed nothing as Tom greeted the crowd.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen!” He said and flashed his renowned smile, then he looked at some of the couples who’d been dancing a bit too rigorously. “And perhaps, the not too gentle.” He said. The crowd laughed. A good start. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” He asked and they cheered in a unanimous “Yaaaaay!” as a response. He nodded, continuing: “Good, because you’ll have to keep doing that a while longer.” He said and briefly met the eyes of Emily, and Laura and Ben next to her, then proceeded into his real announcement: “We’ve been informed that for some reason the phone networks have tried to spoil our fun by not connecting properly with our phones.” A few scattered well-humoured boos. He nodded along and grimaced at the “minor” problem he’d just informed them of. “We don't know why the phones have gone down, it could have been Harvey's trumpeting here,” He nodded to the brass band member closest to him. More laughs. “But we ask nobody leaves the mansion until we get it fixed. I'm sorry, no attending your cars or opening the doors, you might trip something in the security. But this is a party, why would you want to leave?” He winked and the groans had faded into cheers as people considered the best of the party was yet to come. He left the stage with a “thank you” to the cheers, and mutters of the less inebriated, of the crowd.

Tara raised her eyebrows and clapped along to blend in. It had been a good speech, even she was doubting everything she'd been considering now. Maybe she had overreacted, maybe they all had and they'd put their minds to rights while they walked back. The discovery of a dead body could do anything to anyone's mental state anyway.

"So they really do believe it that badly." Christian murmured beside her. Her blood ran cold. Of course, he was a fellow actor, he'd seen right through Tom's speech. She wasn't sure if she was glad he did.



Tom stepped down from the stage and made his way towards Emily, Laura, Ben and Mark. The latter coughed a little and swirled his cocktail of vodka, gin, elderflower water and lime peel. He’d been looking more and more uncomfortable as the minutes went by.

“Are you OK Mark?” Emily asked, concerned.

“What? Oh, yes. I - I - it’s nothing really.” He replied, obviously distracted. His cheeks were red and he was fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. That was his “tell”.

He looked like a bashful child, embarrassed because he’d stolen a sweet from a corner shop.

“Mark, there’s obviously something really bothering you, what is it?” Laura said patiently, gently touching his hand in an attempt to stop the fiddling. His hand dropped to his side and he sighed. It was the sort of sigh that was a release, the sort of sigh that meant giving in.

“I can’t find the script. Or the cast-list. It’s gone missing. I searched everywhere for it, but it’s well and truly vanished.” He stopped. “It was locked in my desk drawer in mine and Natalia’s room. You know how important that script is. But the cast-list especially. Steven is going to kill me.” He looked down at his feet and his whole body seemed to wither. We’d never seen him look so, dejected. Mark was always the “keep calm and carry on” sort of fellow. The words, “never cruel nor cowardly. Never give up, never give in” fixed in Laura’s mind as the best words to describe him. They were, of course, the promise The Doctor made to himself upon taking his name. But in her opinion, were Steven’s words to describe the stoic and never changing nature of his best friend, whom reminded Laura of the Doctor often. Because of his intellect, his youthful yet aging nature. But mostly due to the vast amounts of wisdom stored in his head.

“But surely, with everything that’s happened, that should be the last of your worries right now?” Emily said incredulously. She carried on in a hushed but obviously angry whisper, “a woman has died Mark. She died, and was in fact, possibly killed, and you’re worrying about a script?!”

“Forgive me, but it just seems a little odd. I won’t mention it again.” He fixed his posture but still looked resigned and thoughtful.

“What are we going to do?” Tom asked. “We can’t keep people here forever, we need to get the phone-lines working. The nearest civilisation is 10 miles. One of us could drive into town and inform the police?”

“Yes! But we’ll have to be careful not to disturb anything down there.” Mark butted in. “I’ll go with Nat. I can explain what’s happened on the way, away from here, so the shock can wear off ready for when she gets back.”

“Good idea. I’ll go find her!” Laura said, happy for something to do. And in seconds she had gone.

They returned five minutes later, Nat looking exceptionally out of breath and red in the face. “I see the news about the phones didn’t disrupt your evening too much dear? Having fun?”

“Oh yes, I was dancing with Cecil! He’s quite the dancer too..!” She giggled.

“Well maybe we should give him a run for his money later.” Mark replied with a smile and a wink. “But for now, I need your help with something.”

Natalia was a sensitive soul, and so they all followed Mark down to the garage. Laura and Emily went to calm her down, and the boys for safety reasons. If there were a murderer on the loose, it seemed sensible to stay together. As they walked down to the basement, the only sound was Nat talking animatedly and incessantly about the party and all the people that had turned up

“And what the hell was Lindsay doing? I’m so sorry about that Laura, I just thought rather than not letting her come again, we might as well give it a try. We should have had her thrown back out after security let her in!” That was Natalia, through and through. She’d give anyone a chance, and that would never change.

When they arrived at the door into the garage, Mark stopped and turned to his wife. He glanced at Laura and Emily, making sure they were ready to deal with what was coming.

“Darling, something has happened. Something very distressing. But I need you to remain calm, and come with me. Ok?”

“Ok, but, what’s going on? You guys are all acting really strange.”

“You’ll see in a minute Natters, just take my hand, and it will all be alright.” Emily said quietly. Mark opened the door and they all entered the room, Nat and Emily trailing behind. As soon as they were all inside, Mark shut the door and immediately walked to a jag parked away from Lindsay’s body.

“Tom, I’m borrowing your car. Keys?”

Tom fiddled around in his pockets for a moment and once he’d found them, threw them in Mark’s direction. He caught them expertly, opened up the car and walked to where Natalia was standing, staring at the lifeless body of Lindsay.

“I don’t understand. What happened? What’s going on?” Nat stammered.

“We don’t know. But we think someone killed her and tried to make it look like suicide. We need to contact the police, but, as you know the phones are all down.”

“So what you said about there being a slight problem, was a lie?”

“Well...We had to think of something to say. The truth would have caused mass panic. And if someone did kill her, there’s a murderer walking around laughing and joking with the guests.” Tom answered.

Nat made a step towards Lindsay’s body, probably in an effort to revive her. “She’s dead sweetie. And she has been for some time. There’s no saving her now.” Emily said in her best soothing voice. “We need to keep the scene as clear as possible. It’s already contaminated enough with us here.”

“But, she can’t be. I know she was out of order, probably a little crazy and irritating. But- But that doesn’t mean she deserved to die.” Tears filled her eyes and she began to sob quietly. The girls put their arms round her and edged her over to the car where Mark was waiting. She ran around the car and into Marks arms and sobbed. After a few minutes, she seemed to calm down. She dried her eyes and looked around.

“Where are we going?” She asked Mark.

“The Police Station. It’s only -” he started, but was interrupted by Ben, who had been examining one of the cars intently.

“Hold on...” Said Ben. “Look at this!” He pointed to the tyre of the car. “They’ve all been slashed!”

“It’s the same with all of them.” Muttered Laura who had started looking at the other cars in the garage. “Bloody brilliant! I swear they weren’t like this before. We were here 20 minutes ago! Now what?” She was angry. At what had happened and how every time they seemed to work out what to do, the “murderer” seemed to always be one step ahead.

“Whoever did this obviously doesn’t want outsiders here. And are being pretty clever.” Tom paused a moment. “But were they clever enough to think of the horses? Someone could ride to the Police Station. It’s 10 miles, too far to walk or run easily, but on horseback they could be there in no more than an hour at a gallop?”

“There’s an idea! It’ll have to be either you or Ben. You’re both much better on a horse than the rest of us.” Laura said excitedly. Underneath it all, she wanted this to be over.

“I’ll go to the stables and saddle up a horse.” Ben interrupted. He turned to Tom, looked him intently in the eyes and said, “look after her while I’m gone?”

In part, this offended Laura. She was quite capable of looking after herself. But she also enjoyed his concern for her. Their relationship had always been about more than physically being together. There was another level to their relationship which only a few understood. Which meant that losing each other was not an option. She understood his concern, because she felt the same.

“Of course. Always.” Tom replied with a smile as he put his arm around Laura’s shoulders. “What are friends for?”

“Thank you.” He held his hand out to his wife and beckoned Tom and Emily as he did. “Stay together. Don’t wander off alone. There’s something going on -” he stopped and looked at Tom again, “and if anything happens to either of them, you know I’m blaming you don’t you?”

It was meant affectionately. They were best friends, but the way these men saw the world, it was their duty to protect the “womenfolk”. Emily and Laura might argue their female rights with anyone else, but they secretly enjoyed the protective nature of their significant others. Knowing that someone loved you enough to die for you was just about the best and worst feeling in the world.

As they reached the stables, they knew something was off due to the fact that the stable doors were swinging in the wind.

“Oh no.” Emily gasped.

As they entered the stables, it was clear that someone had opened each individual stable door, before letting the horses go. It was completely empty and no sound but their footsteps and the gently gusting wind broke the silence.

“That’s it then. Someone really is trying to keep us all here.” She muttered, breaking the quiet.

“See? Isn’t your mind so much clearer here?” Matt Lauer’s helper sighed. They had found him in the halls and persuaded him to join them here, away from the disgruntled crowd.

“Yes, it’s just serene. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.” He said in his American accent as he stared over at the cyan water from the edge. “It must be amazing to live here, but imagine the money you’d get from turning it into a resort, forget this insane rehab for the celebrities!”

Such a tasteless observation, typical for an American. They smiled. They looked around the room. The warm gold colour of the round walls grey, the water a pasty blue-grey, the floor a dull blue. And at the edges of their sight, everything black, creeping out with reaching claws to take over their vision. They blinked and kept it at bay. Matt’s face, too, was grey. Or it would be.

Nonchalantly, they removed the small compact snuff kit from their bag and opened it. It wasn't until they removed the vial containing the cocaine, that Lauer noticed and perked up. Using the tiny silver spoon, they dumped the contents of the vial onto the attached mirror. They began chopping the line very carefully with a razor blade, shielding it from the lights so Matt would see nothing glittering. After the elements had been reduced to a powdery form 3 lines about an inch in length and eight inches in width each, they picked up their diamond encrusted snorter and held it and the mirror out to the man.

"Oh, no. I couldn't," Lauer refused, very reluctantly. He looked longingly at the lines.

"Oh come now, Matt," they cooed. "Live a little. It's a party! And you only live once!" they grinned to themselves. Matt's resolve was crumpling by the second. They could see it plainly on his face.

"Well, maybe just a line or two," he wrestled with himself. "Maybe just for tonight. I can quit again tomorrow," he was reasoning it out. "I mean I have been very stressed lately. I deserve a night off. To have a little fun..." He reached out and snatched the mirror and snorter from them. With the expertise of someone with an awful drug problem, Lauer snorted all three lines in seconds. And with the clumsiness of a starving man with food, he inhaled much too deeply. They'd anticipated this. With the lightweight of the glass that had been finely crushed into the cocaine, it assured swift passage to Matt Lauer's lungs.

“You know you’re re-” He choked.

They walked closer. “What?” They asked and put their drink on an end table to their left. Smoothly, calmly. Matt’s usually sleazy but charming face went purple and he grasped at his neck, the snuff kit fell into the pool. They prepared to effortlessly topple him into the water. He glugged. Then he screamed.

They yelped and fell back in shock, their flailing arms knocked the side table over, the glass on it smashed all over the floor. What had torn at his throat and lungs had passed, it would kill him, but his vocal cords had not been severed and he would not go silently.

He continued to scream and gag and yell, his eyes popping out in rage and pain as he screamed at his murderer. A snarl curled their lip, this was not the plan but if he continued screaming everything would be ruined. They carefully bent down to the broken glass and picked up the half-intact remainder of the glass. It was the stem, sharpened fatally by the shattering.

Matt took a hand away from clawing at his neck and pointed frantically at them while he tried to screech their name. They smiled at him one last time before plunging the shattered glass into his belly. His eyes bulged even more, and then the light seemed to just pop out of them as he leaned into his killer’s face. They shoved him into the pool. He fell limply with a splash but didn’t move voluntarily once, the blood from his ripped chest quickly began to colour the water.

The killer sighed. It wasn’t exactly what they’d planned, but it was enough. Then they froze.

Voices. Footsteps. Coming from the hall leading to the pool room. “No!” They hissed and turned frantically back to the half-finished murder scene. Shattered glass, mess and blood, strewn everywhere. The voices grew louder. “No!” They hissed again. Their grey vision went taught and flickering, everything they saw was too sharp but moving too quickly to be focused on. Their rage boiled. But they had no choice, they fled.

Giggles echoed through the deserted hall leading to the mansion’s small indoor pool, the glass windows shielded the room from the chill dark violet sky and the main pool outside. Peals of laughter bounced around the circular walls, reaching the balcony above and leaping right back to their source.

They tumbled into the room with grins. Jensen Ackles was pulling his wife, Rebecca, towards the round pool with his back to it. She was pretending to be reluctant and he was tugging her by both her hands.

“No! Jensen, the party, they’ll be expecting us!” She protested.

His smile quirked up towards his right eye and he abruptly stopped tugging, she fell forwards unexpectedly and he slyly used the opportunity to kiss her full on the lips. His mouth was closed, teasing, and he then broke away to step backwards towards the pool.

“The party is still in the brass band stages, we won’t miss a thing Bex.” Tempting her to come with him, he discarded his suit jacket onto the floor, followed by his bow tie, and began to unbutton his shirt from the top.

She watched him. As soon as his fingers reached the second button she gave up and ran after him with a grin, grabbing his hand she pulled down on it and he kissed her, mischievously planning to launch them backwards into the pool, she looked over his shoulder with a laugh.

She screamed. “Jensen!” She cried and pushed them both away from the edge of the pool. He immediately turned around to see what had freaked her so badly and his eyes widened.

The usual tropical aqua colour of the water was now weakened and grotesque, blood was pooling from the middle of it, tendrils rippling out to the edges and tingeing it orange. The black-suited body of a man was its source. His white shirt drenched and clinging to his surprisingly muscular body, the blood made it almost coral. He was utterly limp and bobbing in the centre of the pool, his once-tanned skin now grey. His face frozen in a mix between an O of shock and a grimace.

Jensen stepped back in repulse to hear something crunch beneath his foot. A pungent smell of flowers and alcohol wafted from a yellow liquid spilled on the tiles next to an upturned white side table. The crunching was broken glass. He looked back up. The man was Matt Lauer; this wasn’t the practical joke he’d first thought from Jared, or Misha as revenge for all the cream pies.

“What do we do?” Rebecca asked and he winced. Her voice suddenly seemed too loud in the empty room. Supposedly empty. He stepped closer to her and cast his eyes all around the pool room, nothing moved. He whipped his phone out to call the police, but then he remembered the announcement about the phones.

“Laura and the others have to know, this is their party.” Rebecca continued and he nodded. He grabbed her shoulders.

“Go to Jared and Beth, don’t tell them what happened, just stay near them til I get back.” He urged her. He’d acted out enough clichéd plots to know what it meant when there’s a murder and the phones are cut off. Especially mobiles.

“What?” She scoffed. “I am going with you.” She stated. She’d seen all of those plots - except for Season 9 which his co-stars kept teasing her for with graphic descriptions of her husband’s supposed worst on-screen death yet.

Jensen was about to protest and begin the classic argument of trying to protect each other, then he remembered, everybody gets screwed when they split up.

“OK, come on, they might still be around.” He murmured lowly, explaining his jumpy attitude to her. She stayed close to him as they hurried out of the room, Rebecca glancing over their shoulders back at the floating body. Jensen scooped up his jacket and they were gone.

She had a feeling they wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight.

Their rapid pace through the halls was uneventful, though they had never been more wary and jumpy since Jared had gone through his joke-shop inventory phase. They entered the dance hall to find everybody swaying and dancing with partners to a lively waltz, to which even the conductor was jaunting along to. But the British Ones were nowhere to be seen.

Like shoal fish they twisted and slipped through the crowd of couples, but prepared to turn and run at any second, though they tried not to show it. Perhaps people picked up on their tense energy because all their queries of the location of Tom, Ben, Emily, Laura, Mark or Natalia were met with quick but apologetic answers. All manners of people they asked from every corner of the dance floor; Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, Ian Somerhalder, Jude Law, Robert Downey Jr, Ian Mckellen, Ewan McGregor and all their respective partners for a few, but they all said the same. Nobody had seen them since Tom’s speech.

They were getting more and more tense with each negative answer, the killer could be anywhere by now. Finally they puffed up to Mark Sheppard and Melissa on the edge of the dance floor near the stage, though it was more out of distress than physical exhaustion. Jensen grabbed his arm, the one not holding a wine glass. “Mark, please say you know where Emily, Tom, Ben or any of them are-” He panted.

“Sure, they just went to the security room or something to fix the phones-” Mark spluttered up at Jensen’s sudden intensity in his gravelled London accent, clueless to the fact there was no “security room”.

Jensen tightened his grip. “Where?!” He asked.

“Just through that door,” Mark spluttered again and pointed to the biggest door leading out of the hall on this side of the stage with his wine glass, trying to wrestle his other arm free. “But why-”

“It’s, doesn’t matter. Thank you!” Jensen said and jogged off with his be-heeled wife, freeing his friend’s arm.

“Jensen!” Mark cried after him in confusion.

It was too late. Jensen and Rebecca were gone, the grand doors swinging shut behind them.

Behind them, somebody scowled.

Mark must have only just seen them leave for the “security room” because Jensen and Rebecca only ran up the hall for what seemed like ten seconds before they ran into them. They were coming out of another door on the right wall of the hall, a possible direction from the stables. All of them spun around with uncanny awareness when they heard the couple’s hurried approach. This should have been their first clue that there was something else afoot, but they were too scared themselves to notice.

“Hey!” Jensen called. “Hey! We’ve been looking for you all over.” He said in relief, not noticing their wary faces, and Tom moving protectively in front of the girls, rather than forwards to meet him. Jensen had just edged ahead of Rebecca due to his superior height and flat footwear, so it was him who put a heavy hand on the spooked Tom’s shoulder as he gathered his words.

“There’s...” He started gravely, looking over at Laura and Emily behind Tom as if he wasn’t sure they’d want to hear this. “There’s been-”

“Matt Lauer has been murdered.” Rebecca cut across him plainly as she caught up and he conceded. She was always the more audacious in social situations. But the gasps of horror and incredulity they expected didn’t come, instead Tom’s face only turned even more grey and distressed.

“Another? Already?” Laura asked in a way that was both resigned and horrified.

Jensen’s face went blank. “What?” He asked flatly in alarm.

“Another?!” Rebecca repeated.

Tom jumped into action and grabbed his shoulders in return. “Where?” He demanded, trying to be calm but his eyes were fierce and wild.

“In the small pool-” Jensen replied.

“Take me there.” Tom told him and strided back over to the door they’d come through. Laura and Emily followed without a question. He wrenched it open to find Ben standing on the other side, having finally caught up with them he’d been about to open it himself. “There’s been another murder, at the small pool, we need to go back.” Tom informed him without a hesitation. He turned back and relayed the information to the others and they all filed through as Natalia and Mark added to the throw-up of questions in the air.

Jensen stopped before he followed to lead them and looked back at Rebecca. “Bex, Jared’s just in the other room-”

“Don’t even think about it.” She silenced him. “I’ve already seen it once, it’s not going to change.” She stated as she followed Tom and the others. If the situation hadn’t been so dour he might have smiled.

Their dash back through the mansion was kept to a brisk walk sometimes bursting into a jog in case somebody came across them. Nobody did but they were seeing things in the shadows at every corner. It seemed to almost be half hazy to the women, to all of them in fact. Like wading through a dream, a horrifying dream. They had been told that there would be more murders of course, but despite this a little part in all of them had been clinging to the hope that it had just been a sinister prank to cover up a single murder.

“What do you mean “another”?!” Jensen had demanded of them as soon as he fell in step with their pace. Rebecca silently backed his question by looking at them inquisitively but firmly, further crumbling their looks of doubt.

Tom looked as if he was about to give in and tell them, but Ben caught his arm. He looked over and Ben’s face was stony. He shook it at him. Tom brought himself in check, respecting his friend’s wishes, and cleared his throat. Ben’s hand dropped. Jensen and Rebecca watched the exchange with increasing frowns as they realised what was happening.

“When did you find him?” Tom asked them.

“Around 20 minutes ago-” Jensen started.

“And did you tell anyone else?” Ben interjected.

“No but-” Jensen started again, but Rebecca cut them all off, seeing where this was going.

“We found a dead body, you can’t just not tell us what’s going on!” She insisted and they all looked guiltily between themselves again.

“Trust me dear, the less you know is much safer for you both right now.” Mark assured her. The perplexed couple caught worried glances from Laura, Emily, Natalia and Tom but nothing else was said. They looked at each other, then followed the hurried walk in silence.

In a jumbled formation they entered the pool room. The lights around the pool made the faint ripples reflect hypnotisingly on the ceiling, but that only emphasised how still the room was.

Emily hung back before she could even get Matt's bobbing sleeves in her line of sight. Natalia did the same so none of them would be caught on their own, but Ben and Tom plunged ahead to the pool's edge, as did Laura, a little more reluctantly. It had to be done. They grimaced at the broken glass that had been messily thrust into his chest, and at the orange water around him. None of them would be swimming here again.

"What's that?" Laura asked. A folded piece of paper lay on Matt's chest, the white glaring in contrast against the red. It was crisp, it hadn't even soaked in any other blood. Rebecca and Jensen went over in alarm. They had lingered back in the middle of the room, they'd seen it all already.

“That wasn't there before.” Rebecca frowned. They all spun around like deer in headlights. For paper to retain such dryness when placed on soaked fabric, it would only take a few seconds. A minute at the most. And this room only held one possible hiding place...

"The balcony." Tom stated. Jensen was already lunging for the stairs. Out of all of them he was currently the fittest and had the most training in fighting, plus he wasn't new to bar brawls.

Rebecca watched him anxiously as they all backed up together in a protective huddle, but she needn't have worried. Jensen overturned everything on the balcony that could have possibly hidden anything, even the baskets, but there was no sign of the killer.

"Nothing." He confirmed with a sigh as he descended the stairs and they all let out a sigh of relief, reluctant as it was. Safe they were but to have put an end to the killer right now would have been so much more preferable.

"Probably fled into the gardens just before we arrived." Ben noted, and indicated the glass door of the windowed wall. They followed his gaze with silent agreement. He then took out his phone to take pictures of it and everything else, including the body before it was moved. Tom took it upon himself to reach out and bring Matt's body further in to read the note, after the photo was taken, Jensen went to help him. Ben began to examine the scene and the girls watched, Rebecca helpfully on hand as she followed his example. Mark took the other side of the room. Everyone was careful not to touch anything.

“This is all exactly how you left it?" Ben asked her, turning in a circle to take it all in. He bent on one knee with a frown when he found the puddle of yellow liquid. He sniffed it then dipped a tentative finger into it and lifted it to his mouth to taste it. He repulsed as soon as his tongue touched it.

“Yes, apart from the note." Rebecca replied, not sounding entirely sure. When they'd come across the murder, taking in the scenery had been the last thing on her mind. She sounded doubtful enough for Ben to keep drilling her.

“Those gloves, were they here?” He asked, pointing out a pair of long black gloves thrown under a deck chair, though didn't move to touch them.

“Probably, yeah. I wasn't really looking under the furniture.” She snapped. Ben flashed a look at her but let it go when he remembered what she'd just witnessed, and still had no answers for it.

“And that bow tie?” He pointed to it on the floor, between the deck chairs and Rebecca.

“That's Jensen's. He took it off before we found the body. He forgot about it.” She told him, quickly picking it up and wrapped it around her knuckles. Ben flushed as he realised what such an action would entail and looked away with a cough.

Tom and Jensen rose at this point, Jensen looked over curiously but thankfully for Ben the conversation was brought to a halt. Tom had the note.

He started to read:

“Drowning is not so pitiful

As the attempt to rise

Three times, 'tis said, a sinking man

Comes up to face the skies,

And then declines forever

To that abhorred abode,

Where hope and he part company --

For he is grasped of God.

The Maker's cordial visage,

However good to see,

Is shunned, we must admit it,

Like an adversity.”

“Another poem?” Mark muttered. Jensen and Rebecca shot him another look as that word was used again.

“It’s Emily Dickinson.” Tom informed them as he folded the note back up. “If they’re keeping to a pattern then authors isn’t it.”

Jensen gritted his teeth as the conspiracy they were being kept out of was mentioned yet again, but it was clear from Ben’s expression that that wasn’t going to change, so he employed another tactic.

“What are you going to do with the body?” He asked. “You can’t just leave it here.” They all looked at him, in the panic of everything they hadn’t even thought about that.

“He has a point.” Laura said and they looked back at his pitiful and bloody floating body. They didn’t look at it for long.

“Where could we put it?” Ben asked, not happy that Jensen had got himself involved.

It was Natalia who unexpectedly answered from behind them: “There’s a room not far from here in the middle of the mansion. It’s covered with sheets because it’s being renovated, no one would go in there.”

“That could work.” Tom considered.

“And getting him there?” Rebecca asked.

Ben sighed and looked reluctantly at Matt’s body. Very reluctantly. “We’ll have to carry him.”

Jensen moved forward to offer his help but Tom stopped him. “Ben and I can handle it from here.” He said. “It would be better if you and the girls rejoined the party, it must seem odd we’ve been away as long as it is.” He realised with little enthusiasm.

Mark suddenly stepped forward. “Perhaps I could go and handle… the other one?” He asked a little perkily.

Ben looked at him in surprise, he hadn’t thought of that either. “Yes, that would help.”

“The quicker we get this done the better.” Tom added, promoting Mark’s suggestion. Mark nodded and before Jensen could offer him his services he was gone with nothing but a peck on his wife’s cheek.

“Natalia, we need you to stay and show us the way to this room.” Tom requested apologetically but unquestioningly. She nodded in understanding and stepped away from the others. He squared up to Jensen, man-on-man, he was only an inch taller than him. “You need to stay with the girls. They shouldn’t be out here on their own. You go back to the party but nobody can find out what’s happened. Nobody. We’re doing what we can, a mass panic is not the way to stop this.”

“I get it.” Jensen nodded and turned to leave with Rebecca, Emily and Laura. “But whatever this is, you can’t keep going on your own forever.” He chided him with his hands palms-up in an open shrug. He took Rebecca’s hand and they left.

Natalia waited patiently by the doors as Tom and Ben turned to fish out Matt’s body with Jensen’s statement echoing through their minds. If things continued like this, they knew they couldn’t.

As they arrived at the ballroom, the party was in full swing. The alcohol had obviously started its work and the room was filled with chatter, laughter, and music. As they looked around, heaviness filled their hearts as they realised what would happen when this came out. As they realised that eight people in this room could be dead by the end of the night. Had the killer pre-selected them? It appeared so, because of the manner of their deaths. Lindsay and Matt were renowned for their drug taking and partying. To have died in such a way was clearly a last kick in the mouth to the way in which they led their lives. But why? Why were people being killed? The notes suggested an ulterior motive. Sure Matt and Lindsay had done enough this evening to piss people off, but to die? No, there was surely something else going on here.

“Anybody want a drink? I sure as hell could use one.” Jensen said looking at the girls. Rebecca nodded and made to follow him.

“How about you guys?” He mentioned to Laura and Emily.

“I’m going to go for brandy. I’ve drunk enough Scotch tonight to turn me into a Scot.” Laura said, but was distracted by her thoughts.

“I’ll take the same.” Emily added.

“Ok. Don’t move from here, you hear me?” Jensen almost growled. “Not one inch!”

He took Rebecca’s hand and made for the bar, pushing past people as he went.

He was angry, and justly so. People had died and he was being pushed to the side. It wasn’t in his nature to sit around and let someone else do the work. But they had their reasons, he was too angry to see them right now.

“I think we should go back.” The words came out of Emily’s mouth before she had thought it through properly.

“You’re right. We can’t just leave them there. We’re going back.” Laura said decisively before Emily could doubt herself. She’d always been going back anyway, she’d much rather go with her. “We should go now before Jensen gets back with the drinks.” Laura said, looking around them as she did.

As if by magic, a waiter appeared with a large tray of drinks, obviously destined for someone else. Without thinking she stopped him, grabbed a drink and downed it. “I knew I could smell Scotch.” She smacked her lips in an uncharacteristic way and made for the door, beckoning Emily as she went.

“I genuinely don’t know how you can drink so much of that stuff.” Emily mentioned as they left. She looked forlornly back at the ballroom and it’s occupants for one brief moment before the door closed. The laughter, the chatter and the music played around their eardrums.

And then they were gone.

They made their way through the corridors of the mansion, to their final destination. The room where the bodies were being laid was the locker rooms, unused for the night and locked up tightly. It was unnervingly quiet away from the party. Their pace was quick, hands clasped tightly, clinging on for dear life. They didn’t say a word, and almost died of fright when the others came round a corner, talking quietly to each other.

“I’m pretty sure we asked you to keep an eye on the party.” Ben said, looking slightly disapprovingly at his wife. And then at Emily.

“If someone is going to try and kill me, I figured my best chances at survival would be with you. And Emily’s with Tom.”

He struggled to disagree with that. He knew for a fact that he and Tom would die for either one of them.

“Well I for one am glad they’re back!” Said Nat, moving towards her friends. “Where has Mark got to?”

“I’m here.” A voice echoed from the end of the corridor.

“What took you so long?” Tom quizzed him, as he joined them, obviously suspicious.

“I got lost. Honestly I love this house, but the halls are ridiculous!” He answered. They were all quiet for a minute. They’d lived in the house for years, and even Nat couldn’t remember a time he’d got lost in it. Maybe it’s the stress Nat thought as she took his hand in hers.

“We best get back to the party. People will be wondering where we are.” Emily urged. She was right. They’d been missing for a while now.

“OK, we better make an appearance when the food comes out. Then we can disappear again and decide what to do.” Tom decided.

Well, time to go face the music, thought Laura. Jensen is going to be pissed. In both senses of the word



.

“I’m sorry I just need to change out of these heels. My feet are killing me from all the dancing!” Lily apologised and she and Richard walked down a quiet corridor to their room. While she had enjoyed romping with David and Chris, the balls of her feet could no longer stand the ridiculous heels she had been forced to wear with her dress.

“It’s fine, but I want to drop by the wine cellar on our way back, there’s a good bottle of red I’m craving.” Richard replied, keeping a tight hold of his slightly drunk wife.

“OK, as long as I can get these damn shoes off first.” She marched on.

They arrived at their rooms and she quickly changed into a much more comfortable pair of flats, whilst breathing a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank GOD. Tara so had the right idea sneaking in converse.” She muttered as she sat down on the bed to recollect herself. “Just give me a minute.” She said to Richard.

“I’ve got all night my dear.” He said playfully. After a few minutes spent “recollecting herself”, she got up and grabbed his arm as everything seemed to wobble for a brief second. Maybe it’s time to stop drinking she thought to herself.

They left their room and began the long walk back to the party. As they reached the ground floor, they were muttering sweet nothings, when all of a sudden the heard an ear piercing scream, it echoed round the empty corridor like a ricocheting bullet.

“What the hell...?” Richard said and made his way towards the source of the scream. Their destination: the cellar. As Richard made to go down the stairway, leading towards the screams, Lily grabbed his arm tightly.

“What are you doing?” She whispered incredulously. “You can’t go down there!”

“Someone might be hurt Lily, I need to make sure everything’s ok. It’ll be fine. You stay here.” He replied, trying to calm her.

“I don’t think so! I’m coming with you, it’s dark around here...” The words came from her mouth in a panic.

“OK, just stay behind me.”

As he disappeared through the door Lily followed and frantically reached for his hand. He took hers and held it firmly. With a squeeze of comfort, he said “You’ll be fine, just stay with me.”

The stairway was dark and her shoes scuffed on the stone steps. It was cold down here and smelled pungent. Of damp and of incense, but there was another smell mixed in that Lily couldn’t identify. Metallic. Richard knew exactly what it was, before he reached the bottom of the staircase. As he did, he looked round the door, at a scene he would never forget.

“Stop!” He barked at Lily. “Stay right there. I know you’re going to have to fight the urge to not look, but please, I beg you, don’t.” Lily had stopped a few steps before the bottom and looked positively terrified.

“OK.” She managed “I won’t look, I promise.”

Richard entered the room to find Melissa, crouched over what was left of her husband. He took a quick look at the scene in front of him. All he could think about was the blood. The smell of it, metallic and sickening. And it was everywhere. Carefully painted on the walls in symbols he didn’t recognise. Candles were lit everywhere, making the scene all the more horrifying as the shadows seemed to dance. As his eyes moved down to the weeping woman and Mark, his stomach threatened to relieve him of the food he’d eaten that day.

Mark was lying on his back, arms at his side and his legs out in front of him. His torso had been cut from his chest stomach. It was obvious that organs had been removed. As well as his hands. On further inspection he realised the missing pieces had been arranged around his head, in a gruesome attempt at making a crown. His fingers jutted out of his dark hair and were intertwined with what he assumed were his intestines. His makeshift crown shone. But not like the glittering gold crowns of Kings and Queens. It shone with blood. And was a perfect choice for the King of Hell himself.

Richard stepped forward, in an attempt to removed Melissa from the scene. She didn’t argue. Her whole body was limp, as though all life had left her. “It’s ok,” he whispered to her, as he carried her towards the door. He just wanted to get her out of there. Then he could think clearly about what to do. He set her down gently on the stairs and looked up at his wife.

“You need to look after her. Forget about the blood. Make sure she’s ok, and don’t move until I come back, OK?”

She was scared, she’d never seen so much blood, but she nodded and put her arm around Melissa. She did her best to comfort Melissa, but nothing worked. Lily’s mind was racing, what’s happened? She thought to herself. One thing was for sure, she believed Richard when he said not to look.

Back in the cellar, Richard stood quietly surveying the scene for a second time. The stench of incense began to overpower the other smells in the room. The expression on Mark’s face was strangely peaceful. It suggested what had been done to him had occurred after death. At least he didn’t suffer that much he thought. His stomach clenched again. He took a deep breath to calm himself, his heart was racing. He knew Mark well. The Brits tended to stick together. Underneath he was devastated. But he had to keep his calm, for Lily and Melissa, whose sobs he could still hear from the stairway.

He stepped towards his body, to look more closely. It was difficult to see much. His suit was soaked in blood, his torn shirt a sickly pink hue. As his eyes reached his shoulders, Richard noticed something tucked into his pocket. He reached over and pulled it out, to find it was paper, neatly folded. He carefully opened it, and found a note scrawled on it.

“Black it stood as night, Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Satan was now at hand.

Four have fallen, six more you will find.

Does nobody cast an angel’s light?”

It was odd, but most certainly a reference to Mark’s most famous character, Crowley. As he finished reading the note he heard another voice from the stairway. He stood up quickly and walked to the door. As he got closer, he heard the jolly Scottish tones of David. And felt a little easier. He needed someone else to help decide what to do, and David was just the person.

“I need your help down here.” He said shortly. David looked at him in surprise. His expression turned to shock when he saw Melissa’s blood stained dress.

“Oh my God - “ he started to say, but Richard cut him short.

“Please. I need you.” He said as he walked back into the cellar. David stood still for a moment. Put his hand on Lily’s shoulder and smiled at her, before he followed Richard into the cellar. His reaction was much the same as Richard’s had been. A mixture of shock, sadness and incredulity crossed his face in rapid succession. A hand to his mouth, he slowly breathed in and out.

“What - why?” He managed to stammer.

“I don’t know, but I need you to stay with the girls. I’m going to tell someone, anyone, what’s happened.”

“Are you sure you should go alone?” David asked.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve played enough spies and baddies to know how to fight.” He chuckled darkly. “Don’t let the girls in here. Melissa has seen enough and it’ll scare Lily to death.”

David nodded and made his way to out Lily and Melissa. She had seemed to have calmed down and settled now for a look of distant loss. He crouched beside her and eased her off the steps, a difficult task, the stairway was extremely small. He put his arm round her waist and coaxed her up the stairs, helped along by Lily. When they reached the top of the stairs, Richard grabbed Lily’s, kissed her cheek and said, “be careful. Don’t leave David for any reason, you hear me? Help clean Melissa up, but bag her clothes. I’ll find you as soon as I can.”

Lily looked at him, hugged him and then watched him run down the corridor in search of help.

David had settled down with Melissa, she had started to sob again, so he did the best he could. He put his arms around her, Lily sitting down next to her and doing the same. And they waited in the quiet. Staring at the shadows from candles, dancing at the bottom of the stairs.

The first place he ran to was the ballroom. As he entered in a frantic panic, he looked around him for someone, anyone, to help. But the music was loud and the party in full swing. His cries to their backs were drowned out amongst the laughter and chatting. As he moved through the sea of people, he caught the notice of a few, who quickly carried on with their conversations.

One person did notice however. Michael was stood in a strategic spot, to keep an eye on what was going on. Over all the noise he heard Richards’s shouts and immediately made his way towards him. Once he reached him, he quickly noticed the blood on his shoes and grabbed him by his arm. He manhandled him to the outskirts of the room and out of sight of the unaware guests.

Once they were out of earshot amongst the guests” chatter, Michael started to question him.

“From the looks of you I know you’ve had a fright, but I need to know, where did that stain on your shoes come from?” He held Richard by the shoulders, tall though he was, and looked him straight in the face. His eyes were wide and in the moments since he dragged him from the hub of the party, he had started to shake.

“Mark. The cellar.” He managed, but then his voice started to shake too.

“Mark who?” Michael asked.

“Sheppard. He’s in the cellar. Somebody had cut out his- his-” He stopped himself as he could continue no further, and held out the note he had pocketed. “Th-there was a note, in his pocket.” Now he was away from Lily and Melissa, his decisive and calm air had fallen away. What he had witnessed would be with him for the rest of his life.

Michael looked down at it and sucked in his breath. “I need you to come with me.”

“OK.” Richard replied evenly and gulped as he did, trying to swallow his shaking. He struggled to put one foot in front of the other, but guided by Michael, they weaved in and out back into the crowd. If anyone looked over oddly, Michael claimed that Richard had simply had too much to drink. He looked through the crowd with an eagle eye, profiling and noting every guest, but the ones he wanted he could not find. He was almost about to give up and go to the scene of the murder himself when he spotted a tall, receding ginger and his vividly-green dressed partner talking in front of the stage. He pulled Richard over to them like a plough tractor parting a path through a field of mud.

“Master Mark, Master Mark!” Michael called out to him. Mark Gatiss looked over his shoulder with his usual practised air of dignified curiosity. “Thanks goodness we found you.” Michael said and Natalia took in Richard’s pasty face as he came to a standstill beside them.

“What is it, Michael?” Mark asked him solemnly, he knew immediately where this was going, and didn’t seem entirely happy that the problem had been thrust upon him.

“There’s been another one, in the wine cellar.” Michael muttered as quietly as he could. “I take it wasn’t a clean one either. Richard said he found a note.”

Natalia paled as yet another death was thrust into her awareness, but not nearly as much as she was about to.

“Here.” Said Richard and handed the note to Mark. He took it with a frown and held it between his fingers and thumb, angled to the side so both he and his wife could read it.

Natalia turned so white as she read it that she wouldn’t have looked out of place in a morgue, or clutched over a toilet at 3am in the morning. She had to strain herself to not step back in horror. Mark re-folded the note and nodded to Michael, then turned to his wife.

“Nat, I think you should stay here while I go to sort this… Unfortunate affair out.” He told her, placing a comforting hand on her arm, misunderstanding the reason for her fearful expression. She tightly smiled and nodded, it was all she could manage.

“Take us there.” He said to Richard, assured that his wife would be alright, and all three left. Natalia stared at his receding back and fumbled backwards with small steps, shaking her head all the time.

They had sat in silence, waiting for Richard to return with help. There was nothing to say. They each felt a level of grief and sadness. But none of them more than Melissa, whose cries and sobs had been the only sounds to break the silence. Lily had tried whispering words of comfort, but gave up when none of it seemed to help. She almost felt bad to be relieved when she saw Richard walking down the corridor. Though she was disappointed to see only Mark Gatiss and Michael, the Butler, accompanying him. She’d expected a small army to clear this away.

“I thought there would be more of you.” She said in a quiet voice. She immediately reached out for Richard and put her arms around him. Michael didn’t say a word. He walked past them, looked for a moment at David and Melissa. And then made his way down the steps.

“I’m sorry my dear.” Mark said to her, more apologising for what she’d witnessed rather than the lack of manpower, then he followed Michael.

It seemed like they had been gone for hours, but eventually they returned, with the same haunted look on their faces that covered Melissa, David and Richard’s. Mark looked at them all, thinking. They all looked back, expectantly. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

“We need to move the body. Richard could you help us with this? The...state of the body will make it considerably tricky.”

“I think so. Where to though?” Richard asked, puzzled that he seemed to know exactly what to do.

“I’ll explain on the way. David, can you escort the ladies to Melissa’s room? I think she needs help cleaning up. And nobody must learn of this, do I have your word?”

“Of course.” David replied, though also confused by Mark’s assured know-how “But why?” He asked, not the type to keep quiet and certainly not to be out of the know.

Mark sighed at what he was being forced to reveal. “This isn’t the first, we can’t be having a mass panic. Now go!” He whispered in a failed attempt to keep the ladies from hearing. They gasped, David paled and straightened his back as he knew he must guard them now from a killer, Richard simply couldn’t look more aghast.

Lily didn’t argue. She didn’t want to see the body. She didn’t want to hear anymore; and knew she was best helping Melissa. She stood up, grabbing Melissa’s underarm as she did. She eased her up and with David’s help managed to steady her.

“Look after them, please?” Richard asked hoarsely. David nodded and made to turn down the corridor. With a last look at her husband, the three of them turned away and headed in the direction of the lifts. Once they were out of sight, Richard pulled himself together. He quieted the churning of his stomach and the anguish he felt at Mark’s death.

“What are we going to do?” He asked calmly and deeply.

“We need to move him, and cordon off the area. No one else needs to see what’s down there. But first, we need to investigate the scene as best we can, until the police can be informed.” Michael put in, thinking that Mark had said enough already by revealing the other murders.

Richard nodded. “The phone lines are still down then I take it?”

“They are sir.” Michael confirmed.

“Then where are we moving the body to? And how?”

“This isn’t the first, ah, incident this evening. Lindsay Lohan and Matt Lauer were found earlier on. The bodies were moved to the locker room as it’s being renovated, no one will go in. It’s not far, just a flight of stairs between us and it. The lifts are too risky.” Mark informed and looked at Richard, whose face betrayed his unease about the task of moving a particularly cut up body.

“Who is doing this?” The question tumbled from his mouth in shock and slight disgust. How could he have kept something like this from us? He thought.

“We don’t know. But there are going to be more unless we find the killer first, six to be precise.” He paused, giving Richard a chance to recollect himself. “We have to move him, there are too many people around. If someone finds him, the situation would be even more uncontrollable.”

“I understand that. Wait - you said we? Who else knows about this?” He said slowly.

“The hosts. The Ackles and the Skarsgards.” He immediately replied. “And David and the ladies, but no one else. And we need to keep it that way as long as possible.”

“But this is big. We can’t hide it from everyone for long.” Richard warned him.

“We know, but for now, let’s try.” Mark replied coolly.

Michael cut across the passive-aggressive retorts. “There’s a lot of blood down there. You already have it on your shoes. Do you have dress shirts spare?”

“Yes, in my wardrobe.” Richard said. Mark nodded in agreement.

“Good, take off your jackets. You can change your shirts after we’ve moved him.” Michael told them, and removed his own.

Richard took off his jacket and followed them down the steps into the cellar. Seeing the scene for a third time, the initial shock had worn off. He, Mark and Michael made a much more detailed inspection of the scene. They had all seen it, but this time they forced themselves too look around every corner, edge and gap possible. For anything that would lead them to the killer, anything. Mark groaned in disgust when a drop of blood from one of the symbols fell on his forehead as he was closely examining the wall. Michael even took to looking under the candles at one point. And find it they did.

“Isn’t that the knife they use in the show? The demon-killing one?” Richard suddenly asked, pointing to a knife discarded to the worn-away underside of a section of the round 5-inch platform that surrounded the pit of the cellar floor. They turned to where he pointed and Mark picked it up gingerly. It was coated in blood, but its jagged edge and curved handle was unmistakable.

“Doesn’t Jared Padalecki own one of those?” Michael asked. “A replica, but it’s kept in the armoury.”

Mark raised his eyebrow at him. His knowledge of all of the guests never failed to impress him.

“But Jared’s been at the party all night!” Richard said in the defence of his late friend’s friend, seeing where the suspicion was going. He knew this for a fact, Jared was a very hard guy to miss after all.

“Then they’re getting trickier.” Michael stated, referring to the killer, and they continued in silence. Though there wasn’t much more to find.

Mark had taken photos with his phone, of everything he could think might be useful, but Michael noticed not as meticulously as Benedict had. With the investigation completed, it was time to move the body of their friend. Using old sheets they had found in a corner of the cellar, they covered him. Carefully and gently, not touching the entrails whatsoever, the edges of the sheet were tucked under Mark’s body gingerly.

Richard looked at his friend’s face and closed his eyes, before covering him with the sheet. They then began the arduous and saddening task of moving him. He was heavy, and so it was difficult carrying him up the tiny staircase. They paused for a moment to blow out the candles placed round the gruesome scene and to lock the cellar door. Making sure no one else would stumble upon it. They made it up the stairs eventually, and were sweating when they reached the top. Mark checked the coast was clear, and when seeing that it was, they made their way down the darkened hallway, hoping they didn’t meet anyone while covered in blood. It could raise certain questions and place them all as suspects.

They walked the long corridors in silence, other than a few grunts, with Mark walking awkwardly to the side, checking the coast was clear. There was no room for a third man on a body after all.

It was when they were at the bottom of the stairs that he asked: “Do you two mind if you go on ahead without me? You know the way, don’t you Michael? I just remembered, somebody has to tell the other hosts about this.” He asked, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. He’d been lucky enough not to get any blood on it.

“Of course sir, you go on ahead.” Michael puffed and Mark sped off without a seconds pause to hear anything else on the matter. Richard was not impressed by him not offering to take Michael’s place instead, but he figured they were all shaken out of rational manners by this and they began the slow lumber up the stairs.



Meanwhile Misha (& Kali)

Suddenly in the ballroom, the lights went down. Loud whooshing echoed from different areas of the room. The stage was covered in a low fog. From nowhere gravestones started to appear on stage and flashes of white light and sounds of thunder echoed across the vast room. A few people in the crowd turned a little white and many were confused.

What is going on?

As if in answer to the silent question bouncing around everyone’s minds, out of the fog and lights, two figures walked into the room, strolling and laughing between the groups assembled in the ballroom, heading for the stage. It was Kali and Misha. As they entered, low music had started. By the time they reached the stage, the music had crescendoed and Michael Jackson’s Thriller had begun. As the music sounded, other figures appeared on the stage, in full zombie dress. The sight was terrifying, but also electrifying. As they stepped out, lights flashed across the room in all colours, and the cheering started.

As the lights shone brighter, the true excellence of the costumes was clear. They had gone to a lot of trouble to look as scary as possible. Fake skin hung off their bodies, and their mouths were covered in fake blood. Back-combed hair that would take weeks to fix and what looked like contact lenses were just a few of the added extras that made the costumes all the more terrifying. When they had found the time to get all this gear on wasn’t obvious, but they all looked amazing.

The routine that followed was, to put it lightly, spectacular. Many would talk afterwards about Mishaps moves. He and Kali moved as one on the stage. And the other couples, Misha and Ian, Denise and Alicia, and Angie and Jason were no different. They were completely in sync. It showed that this group were the best of friends, they could pre-empt the moves of each other, and therefore, dancing together was a breeze.

They all captured the glittering movements associated with zombies amazingly and everyone was completely stunned at Mishaps moves. The normally slightly odd and carefree man was dancing around the stage like Michael Jackson reborn. It would make them all see him in a new light. The stage was truly where he belonged, everything else was just a step along the way.

The whoooops and cheers once the routine was finished were deafening as the performers left the stage and mingled with the crowd. People weren’t shy, they reached out and touched the gruesome faces in front of them and stepped back, thoroughly impressed.

With such an awesome show so early, everyone wondered, what was next?

Natalia was worried. That poem. She’d seen Mark reading it, so many times. She didn’t want to believe he could be a killer, but so many things lead back to him. She had to tell someone, someone she could trust.

Eyeing the room, she saw Laura and made a beeline for her. She could trust her. She loved Mark too, she wouldn’t tell anyone and would probably come up with a million reasons why it wasn’t him.

“Lolly, I need to talk to you, in private. Please?” Nat said quietly in her ear. Laura nodded, picked up her dress and followed Nat to the corner of the room.

“Lolly, I’m scared. The last note, at Mark’s scene, the poem? It’s one of Marks favourites. I’ve seen him reading it loads of times. And everything seems to be leading back to him! I’m terrified it’s him and feel nothing but guilt for not trusting him! Tell me it’s not him please?” She finished. She’d blurted it out but Laura had listened.

“Of course it’s not Mark Natters. He wouldn’t hurt a fly! It may look like it’s Mark but it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you, I promise.” She said soothingly.

But the voice inside her head disagreed. Nat had just confirmed her suspicions, Suspicions she’d been having all evening. And suspicions that wouldn’t stay quiet. And she knew Ben and Tom were thinking the same thing. He’d disappeared one too many times and said a few too many incriminating things for it all the be a coincidence.

As guests buzzed around them, Laura was thinking. Thinking of wise words.

Marks words to Ben as Mycroft and as Sherlock?

What do we say about coincidence? The Universe is rarely so lazy...

Everything was in order. Will looked across the kitchen. There were covered silver platters everywhere. Chefs had been sweating all day over stoves to create the elaborate dishes the hosts had chosen. He didn’t think there was a country in the world not represented in the milay of dishes now waiting to be served. He hoped there would be leftovers. He was starving.

He moved towards one platter, and almost lifted the lid before a mans voice barked at him. “Don’t you dare!”

He moved shyly away and waited for the go ahead. Then they heard the screams. What had sounded like a bloody good time a few minutes earlier, now sounded like a scene from a horror film. When he left the kitchen to find out what all the fuss was about, it was like he had entered a marathon in the final hundred metre sprint. He made his way back to the kitchen where everyone was waiting expectantly.

“What’s going on?” Asked Lucy, one of the waitresses.

“I don’t know, but people are running everywhere.” He replied slowly. At that moment Gerard Butler walked into the kitchen. He looked bewildered but in control. He took a breath and explained to them all, in as little detail as possible, the events of the evening. The initial shock of the situation hit them all. There were gasps and small whimpers across the kitchen.

“We have started moving everyone into the dining hall. And need to get to the food serving as soon as everyone is there. I need you all to stay professional. Don’t walk the halls alone. I don’t expect smiles, but try to keep people calm. I would say happy, but after what they’ve just witnessed, that’s probably pushing it.” Gerard said.

“Just a little...” Muttered Will, a few of the waitresses serving the drinks in the ballroom had spilled all.

“Give it five minutes and then bring the dishes in.” Gerard was instructing the head chef. “And maybe some tea? That’s the British cure for shock right? Sweet tea?”

“Of course sir. Five minutes.” The chef replied rather obediently.

“Thank you. All of you.” He said to the whole kitchen. “As soon as we have news, you will too.” And with that he left. The kitchen exploded with mutterings and chatting. None of it happy. People were terrified. And quite rightly so. It seemed there could be a murderer in their midst, if you believed the gossip. And kitchens live on gossip.

“OK ladies and gentlemen, you heard the man. Pull yourselves together and let’s get this food out!” Chef barked at them. He was truly a beast of a man. No wonder he remained calm and focused. Will couldn’t think of many people present who could try to kill him and succeed.

“Gerard?” A voice immediately said as he left the kitchens. He turned immediately.

“Yes?” He asked in concern, they sounded worried and breathless.

“Could you help me, please? I know you said,” Their voice caught, “Jennifer’s death wasn’t a murder, but I just found something, downstairs-” Their voice broke off, horrified and close to tears. He didn’t doubt them for a second.

He frowned. “Take me there.”

“Thank you!” They said shakily and looked up into his eyes before they turned away into the shadows. They smiled, his eyes, which so many of his fans argued over whether they appeared grey or blue, were only grey to them. “This way.” They beckoned.

Bursting from the Ballroom and into the library across the hall, Christine tugged on Elijah's hand to slow him. They'd managed to flee the room, quietly going unnoticed as usual.

"Wait! Slow down! I think I'm going to be sick!" Christine cried. Elijah, who had been so determined to get her out of there, paused for a moment, as if just noticing Christine's fragile state. She was even paler than usual and a tiny delicate hand covered her mouth. She gagged into it and lurched over. Elijah was immediately at her side, brushing her hair out of her face and rubbing her back.

"There there," he tried to say comfortingly. "Take some deep breaths." Elijah worked to steady his voice. He'd never seen his wife in this state before. She was always giggling and light hearted or peacefully reading a book. Then again, neither of them had ever experienced anything as climactic as someone burning to death before. They usually spent their days building pillow forts and their nights colouring with crayons or talking softly with one another. Christine stood up and took a deep breath.

"Ok," she said with a shaky breath. "I'm ok," she nodded at his concerned disbelieving stare. He nodded back. He'd have to be convinced because the current situation required nothing less. Ever the rational thinker, Elijah hardened his features and looked his wife directly in the eyes.

"We need to get to the armoury, Chris," he spoke lightly, unsure of her reaction. "You know that was no accident. Jennifer went up too quickly for there not to have been an accelerant. We have to find the armoury. We know there is one. We've heard the Founders whisper about it when they thought no one was listening. There's a killer on the loose and I refuse to go down unarmed. "Christine furrowed her brow and nodded, thankful to have a focus after the horrific scene she'd just witnessed in the ballroom. Everyone was being herded toward the dining room, as if eating was even a possibility right now. The thought made her want to gag again but she maintained composure.

"If an armoury does exist, I'd bet my life it's that locked room across from the dungeon in the basement," Christine stated, full of conviction, wincing slightly on betting her life at a time like this. Elijah's nod of agreement spurred her on. "The cellar! If we join up with everyone, we can break off before the dining room." Once again unnoticed, they slipped back in amongst the crowd, filing from the Ballroom and into the elevators.

As they all calmed themselves and straightened their uniforms, each waiter and waitress picked up a platter and they filed out of the kitchen, Will in front as head waiter. He held the masterpiece in his hands. A hog’s head, complete with apple. Even through all that was going on, he felt a sense of pride. It was his first job as head waiter. And at such an important event too.

They walked solemnly down the corridor, not speaking, just walking. As they drew closer to the dining hall a humming grew louder. Hundreds of people talking. There was a lot to talk about, thought Will.

They entered the room and the humming turned to voices. Some quietly discussing the events. Some loudly complaining about being confined. Regardless of all the emotion, the group of waiters and waitresses set their platters down in their places, as had been discussed earlier on in the day and stood ready to lift their covers.

It was only then they had chance to truly appreciate the feeling of apprehension and fear in the room, despite Gerard’s reassuring speech. Tissues were aplenty as women, and some men cried into their partners and each other.

It’s going to take more than fancy food to calm this lot, Will thought. He made a mental note to make sure to bring some strong alcohol in on his next trip.

After a few moments, Michael Caine brought himself to the centre of the room and called out in a resounding voice: “Ladies and gentlemen. Please, I understand your concerns. But in an effort to calm all our nerves we have ordered the food be brought early. Please, take your seats and eat.” He stopped, taking a breath. “We will inform you if anything is found out about the circumstances of Miss Lawrence’s death. Try to enjoy the food.”

It was a short speech. But there was little more to say. The events of this evening would scar many of these people for life.

As Gerard moved into the crowd, he began directing people towards the ornately decorated tables. Candles had been lit and regardless of what was happening outside the room, Will thought, it was beautiful. Arrangements of flowers served as centrepieces between the dishes, fragrant freesias” mixed with soft pink roses.

People began to timidly take their seats. Much of the chattering had quieted and the loudest noise was chairs scraping along the floor. As people placed napkins, waiters lifted the covers on the starter dishes. A mumble of appreciation echoed as people shyly at first, but then more enthusiastically began helping themselves to the many different dishes on offer. As everyone tucked in, a few small smiles broke out and although apprehension still loomed over them, a little of the shock evaporated.

People began talking about the dishes, the foreign tastes and the beauty of the dining room. Jennifer was never far from their minds, but they did their bests to keep in high spirits.

As Stephanie sat, clutching Tom Welling”s hand under the table as she ate, she was thinking. The nausea had started to wear off, but she would never get the smell of burnt flesh from her nostrils. She squeezed Tom’s hand hard as she remembered Jennifer’s screams of agony echoing around the ballroom. He turned to her, concerned and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“It’s ok now. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I promise. Eat something.” He urged.

She toyed with the leafy salad she’d picked. Not the most extravagant of dishes on the table, but she really wasn’t hungry. As she stared at the dish, she noticed something amongst the leaves. Was it a tooth? She picked it out of her dish and the nausea returned.

“That is disgusting!” She squealed, but quietly, so as not to make a scene. She pushed away her plate. She kept quiet, not wanting to spoil anyone else’s food. Their nights had been bad enough. It was probably an accident, she told herself.

Tom had also seen the tooth and was more confused than anything else. But these things happen, he told himself. He followed his wife’s lead and pushed away his plate, just in case.

Unbeknownst to Stephanie and Tom, others had also started to notice strange things in each of the dishes. Nails, hair and other teeth. In salads, soups and pâté’s. Many tried to pass it off as a mistake, an accident. Tensions were too high to make a fuss.

As the servers cleared the plates, they noticed that a lot of food had been left on plates. But thought it unsurprising, considering the situation.

It was time for the main course. As several of the dishes were unveiled, chatter began again. Steam spiralled in the air and the table exploded with colour. The smell of spices and herbs hit them all in a wave. The best was left till last. As people began helping themselves to the dishes, unsettled murmurs started.

Bonnie Wright shrieked when she found a finger.

Hugh Jackman gasped as he skewered an ear on his fork.

Jennifer and Martin Freeman jumped in shock when the plate they were sharing revealed an eyeball.

Body parts were being discovered in every dish. But it wasn’t until Will took off the cover of the platter he’d been carrying, that the screaming started, for the second time that evening.

Mads Mikkelson had been missing all night. Laura had commented on his absence, concerned. He was never late for a party. And he said he’d be there. Yet he hadn’t appeared.

Now they knew why.

His head took the place of a hog’s on the platter. Blood had started to congeal on the shining silver. It looked like a jue. His eyes were wide in shock and as customary, an apple was placed in his mouth. Although the scene was grizzly, his hair was carefully groomed and it looked as though the killer wanted him to look his best for his performance.

And what a performance it was. Within seconds of the head being revealed, several women had fainted and several people had started to retch. Most of them had eaten the food till that point. They’d all become Hannibal the cannibal.

Once on the bottom floor, Christine and Elijah waited for the exact moment to break away from the herd and into the kitchen. The kitchen was bustling with waiters running to and fro, completely caught up in their duties and paying not a bit of attention to the hushed couple, slithering their way to the back of the room. They disappeared into the pantry and shut the door.

Christine looked up at her husband and grinned mischievously. She'd found this once while exploring when her husband was away due to his ever busy schedule. She'd meant to show him but it had simply slipped her mind. She walked to a rack on the other side of the pantry and grabbed a can of soup, only the can never lifted from the shelf. It only shifted forward in her hand, bringing forth a well oiled soft creak from the shelving unit. The mantle swung back effortlessly, revealing a staircase, eliciting a gasp from Elijah.

They hurried down the stairs to find that another opening had materialized, dumping them on the far side of the cellar. After exiting the staircase, Christine pressed a stone to the left of the entryway, closing the wall seamlessly. Elijah raised a brow.

"You'll have to explain that when this is all over," he commented, teasingly, taking her hand once more. He lead them from the cellar and into the hallway. Insatiably curious, the pair had found the locked door to what they assumed was the armoury when exploring the twisting and winding circuitry that was the underground tunnels of the dungeon. They'd always vowed to come back and pick the lock and it looked as though they were going to get their chance.

They arrived at the locked door excitedly and out of breath. There was a pregnant pause before Elijah turned to look at Christine quizzically.

"Huh," he stated, breathlessly. "I have an American Express. I wonder if that will work." Christine rolled her eyes and motioned to the deadbolt and Elijah frowned. Christine thought for a moment, before an idea dawned on her. She reached inside her dress where it was safety pinned to her bra, and unhooked a couple of the industrial strength safety pins. A girl should never go anywhere all dolled up without industrial strength safety pins! She shoved the pointy ends of both into the deadbolt lock and began wiggling. After a few moments, one of the pins was bent beyond all recognition. With a growl of frustration, Christine flung the pin away and detached another to use.

Suddenly, a howl of pure pain echoed all around them, coming from somewhere in the dungeon. Elijah stiffened and then prepared to run off in search of the scream's emanation. Christine's hand flew out to grab hold of his pants leg in her crouched position.

"Wait!" She whispered harshly. Another cry was emitted, this one a bit more hoarse than the last one. "You're unarmed," she pleaded. "Just wait." Elijah looked down at her, wrestling with his inner turmoil, but reluctantly stood down. Christine narrowed her eyes and bit her tongue as she worked, the pins digging into the soft flesh of her hands. Her palms were sweating and it took her two more tries and another wail before the click of the deadbolt sounded. She stood and threw open the door, which was surprisingly light under the surge of her adrenaline. The door banged against the stone wall with a resounding clang that seemed to echo for hours as they held their breath, unmoving. The bang was quickly followed by a strangled shriek clipped short. A shudder went through the couple, leaving a very uneasy feeling in its wake.

The armoury was full of bows, arrows, guns, and ammo; obviously the storage unit for both the archery and gun ranges. Elijah immediately grabbed for a handgun, expertly loading it. He'd spent a bit of time in the gun range. Christine, however, opted for a long bow and quiver full of arrows, both thrown over her shoulder.

Gathering their courage, they began making their way in the direction from where they'd heard the screams. After a few minutes of twisting and turning, their fast pace quickly diminished to a slow crawl, finding themselves utterly lost amid the tunnels.

Elijah stopped abruptly, putting a hand on Christine's arm, and a finger to his lips. He tilted his head and concentrated hard on a faint sound in the distance. He heard slow dripping water. With quiet deliberate heel-to-toe steps, he made his way toward the sound, Christine only a hair's width behind him moving lithely.

Rounding the corner to the Bondage room, Elijah and Christine pull up short, gaping at the grizzly scene before them. The dripping noise had not been made from water, but from the draining blood hitting the pool below Gerard Butler's body. The man had been slung, chest up, over a spanking bench, stripped and redressed in a short leather kilt, then bound to the bench using leather wrist, arm, thigh, and ankle cuffs. The blood, however, was oozing from the countless arrows protruding from his chest.

It wasn't until Elijah wrenched her head to stare him directly in the face, did Christine realize his lips were moving. It wasn't until she saw his lips moving, did she realize she couldn't hear him over the sound of her own terrified screams. She abruptly closed her mouth, eyes still wide enough to show an extraordinary amount of white, her view vibrating with the involuntary trembling of her entire body.

"...have to calm down," Elijah was yelling, trying to top her screams. There was putrid smell in the corner and Christine deduced at a glance that Elijah had been unable to maintain the contents of his stomach. In a quieter calmer voice, Elijah continued, "We need to go get someone. Who is the most level headed of our group?" Elijah seemed to be talking more to himself, than to her since he'd succeeded in quelling her outburst.

"Denise," Christine stated. Normal words felt harsh on her throat after screaming. "Denise and Alicia are the most down to earth and reliable people I know." Christine felt herself nodding in agreement to her own statement. "We need Denise and Alicia. They'll know what to do."

They emerged from the basement, using the front entrance, gripping their newfound weapons tightly. They weren't going to go unnoticed now. They actually bumped into Denise and Alicia, who were just coming down to dinner after checking in on their daughter, the night's event having shaken their usually steel resolve.

"Denise!" Elijah hissed, before ducking into a shaded corner of the foyer. Denise's headed whipped over to see Christine dart out of sight behind her husband. Was she carrying a bow and quiver? Denise and Alicia hurried over to their friends, worried looks on their faces. Elijah was carrying a pistol!

"What's going on, guys?" Denise asked, warily.

"Denise, Gerard Butler's been murdered!" Christine blurted out, large tears rolled down her cheeks but she didn't seem to notice.

"What?!" Alicia practically screeched, grabbing Denise's hand.

"Shhh!" Elijah hushed them. "What's more, I'm pretty sure Jennifer's death wasn't an accident either."

Denise had been listening with narrowed eyes, fingertips absently stroking Alicia's hand to comfort. "Misha and Kali didn't come down from the Ballroom with everyone else. And they were the ones that handed out the confetti bombs..." Denise said aloud, though she seemed to be talking mostly to herself.

"I’m here," a voice came from behind them. Every single one of them almost jumped out of their skin. Kali had just come from the cafe that connected with the dining room, the door left still swinging. Her face was scrunched up in concern. "What's going on, guys? Why are you carrying weapons?" Her eyes narrowed and everyone shifted uncomfortably.

"Gerard Butler's been murdered, they said," Denise confessed. Kali's face changed from concern to shock too quickly to be faked.

"What? Where?" She asked, her eyes searching Elijah and Christine.

"Downstairs in the Bondage room," Elijah answered.

"Show me," Kali commanded, oddly robotically.

Elijah and Christine lead the three new faces back down into the dungeon. Christine swallowed her pride and stayed a pace or two behind Elijah. Coming from the entrance, the Bondage room wasn't too hard to navigate.

Upon entering the room, Alicia emitted a gasp and turned away from the gruesome scene. Denise gave her hand an understanding and comforting squeeze. Everyone else ventured closer until they'd surrounded the grizzly body.

"It's like something almost straight from 300," Denise muttered.

Kali lifted a shaky hand and closed his too-wide eyes. It was about that time that she saw something stuffed in his mouth. Taking a deep steadying breath, she plucked the folded piece of paper. Opening it, Kali read it aloud.

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a black board,

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The hero who tried to conquer the dark lord.

But the hero has fallen and the King is seven,

Who once dined in hell, now dines in heaven."

Swallowing once, twice, three times, her mouth as dry as cotton balls. "I-I need you to do something for me," Kali stammered, turning to look at Christine and Elijah. "I need you to find Laura and Ben and tell them about this. Do not speak of this to anyone else," her usually jovial face, a stoic mask. “And take Alicia with you,” she added, her eyes flickering with concern toward Alicia’s turned back.

Screams. That was what disrupted the founders’ fervent planning. Screams chilling their spines and making their ears want to close themselves. They were three floors above the dining room, but sounds in this mansion echoed, they always had. It was what had enabled Kali, Misha, their general social group and oh so many others to lay pranks upon the other inhabitants for so long; they heard all the victims coming from a mile off.

But these sounds made them all want to consider soundproofing. Through elevator shafts, stairwells and hidden passages of stone they echoed. Shrill screeches of the deepest primal instinct to flee and cry for help. Wails and the highest notes the human vocal chords were capable of were what bounced off the walls and, tinny echoes though they were, made each founder later consider that nails on chalkboards sounded like the gentlest harp in comparison to.

Their heads span around so fast that some of them audibly cracked. Their eyes immediately went to the black starburst clock on the warm, golden wall. It told them 11:40pm.

“Already?” Ben whispered. He meant to say it normally, but in this circumstance even that sounded like a bellow.

They immediately ran outside to investigate. In the hall they paused to listen out for the direction of the second wave of screams, it was accompanied by the ping! of an elevator.

Thudding footsteps of a rapid pace came towards them with the sound of metal doors sliding open and shut. They all tensed, Ben and Tom squaring their legs and the girls preparing to lift their skirts to run. Mark only frowned, with a hesitant hand placed out to push Natalia out of the way. They relaxed immediately when they saw who pounded around the corner from the elevators.

Tara winced as the screams followed her and Christian’s jog over to the founders. “It’s the guy from, uh-” She broke off as she hated to disregard the deceased so much by not knowing his name.

“Mads Mikkelson.” Christian finished for her as they stopped in front of the founders. “From Hannibal, his remains were cooked into the food, his head on the main platter.”

They all involuntarily shuddered, and their already pale complexions faded to another shade of white.

“We were lucky we weren’t there to see it ourselves.” Tara observed and she turned to Tom. “You need to give the speech now. There’s no time for planning it, I already told Michael to get them to come up.” She informed him. Whatever his opinion on it was, it didn’t matter.

“Did you get the band?” He asked her immediately.

“Yes, Muse. I had to tell them what’s going on but they were happy to help as much as they could. They’ll go onstage when you introduce them.” Tara told him.

“Good. The people the others will be getting will be directed to go to the boardroom, it’ll be a good idea if you both stay near the doors to make sure they make it there.” Tom told them, not stating exactly his suspicions that the killer could ambush them, but they were all thinking the worst anyway.

“Of course.” Christian agreed. “Sure.” Said Tara. They both didn’t want to be penned into the ballroom with all the other panicked and sweaty guests for the rest of the night, no matter what the outcome.

The dings of elevators arrived, muffled cries, whimpers and the voice of Michael Caine trying to get everyone to remain calm reminded them of the little time they had. With only silent nods and numb “Good luck’s the founders passed them and went into the ballroom. Tara and Christian slipped inside before the guests saw them, waiting right next to each side of the door for the speech to be unfolded and the potential helpers so be guided through to the ballroom. And also, they realised with shudders, as they wouldn’t want to be penned into the ballroom all night either, the killer.

Michael had had the entire party herded into the Ballroom. Many were nervous at what they would find, and were relieved to see that it had been cleaned up. Jennifer’s body had been moved, but the smell of burning flesh still clung in the air, none of them had dared open a window for fear of the killer slipping in.

As everyone settled, a group of people walked into the room. They were talking quietly and hurrying towards the stage.

Tom broke off from the main group and walked onto the stage. He took a moment to compose himself. As he looked out into the faces of his friends and guests, he inwardly sighed. This was going to be hard. He took a deep breath, and he began.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Guests, staff, all of you. You all witnessed something this evening. Two things in fact, horrific and terrible. I won’t lie to you. We believe that this was something to be kept from you for your own safety, that is now not the case. There have been rumours amongst you, what with the phones dying and these deaths, that they are connected. Well I’m here to tell you that they are. There is a killer amongst us.” He delivered this death blow of the speech to gasps of horror and immediate mutters, but he did not pause long enough to lent them gain a platform. Instead his voice rang out, clear and sharp, from every corner of the room:

“Jennifer Lawrence and Mads Mikkelson were the fourth and fifth victims killed this evening. Lindsay Lohan, Matt Lauer and Mark Shepherd were the other three victims. The killer has made it clear from notes at the death scenes that they plan to kill five more before the night ends, at a total of ten.”

He paused. And looked at the eyes staring at him. Most were filled with shock. Many with tears. All of them gleamed with expectancy. The need for him to know what to do.

“We don’t know who the killer is or how they are choosing their victims, but as they have blocked all methods of communication with the outside world including blocking the phones and slashing all of the cars” tires, we plan to find them and stop these murders ourselves. The horses have also been let loose.” This statement produced a shout from the back of the room. Krissy Valentine was not happy. “We have no reason to believe they’ve been harmed, just freed to prevent us using them to get help.” He said this particularly to her. Everyone knew the horses were Krissy's life. Finding them would become her mission once the night was over.

“But it has also become clear to us that we cannot do this alone anymore. You must think carefully before you decide, we need help We are asking that anyone with scientific or technical knowledge, or anyone who thinks that they can aid us, to come forward. But there is a killer out there, and you will be putting yourself in danger. As for everyone else, the only place you will be safe is in this room. After we’ve left the doors will be locked and guarded by the most capable among us, nobody leaves until this is over.” He paused again. He was asking a lot. Though in this circumstance, it was unquestionable.

“The party will continue. In honour of the deceased, we will not let this loathsome killer of the innocent soil this night entirely. From now on this is their event, and it will not stop. We will be working on getting the phone lines back up in order to call the authorities. Again I insist, as long as you remain in here, you are safe. They will not be penned up in here too. To start off the night in our fallen friends” honours, here is Muse.”

Right on cue, Matthew Bellamy, Dominic Howard and Chris Wolstenholme appeared onto the stage to dead silence. They took their places and Matt prepared for their toughest gig yet, to a sea of terrified A-listers.

As Tom stepped down from the stage, he walked towards the other founders. They had been busy while he was talking, gathering those they knew they needed. The group had grown and now included Robert Downey Jr, Matthew Gray Gubler, Felicia Day and a few others. Tara and Christian had pointed the other volunteers to the boardroom, watching to make sure nobody sprung out on them.

The first few gyrating lines of bass came from Chris Wolstenholme, his shaved head nodding and reflecting every blue and purple light the stage sent off in the dark ballroom. The sound vibrated into everyone’s bones, and rooted deeply into their hips. A few began to nod along, even.

Tara backed away out of the ballroom reluctantly with the others as this was one thing she herself would have killed to see. Then before she went Matt looked over at her and gave her a nod. He’d promised a show, and he would give one.

Jared Padalecki closed the door and the last of the light from the hall just as Matt crooned:

“I think I’m drowning, asphyxiated. I wanna break this spell that you’ve created. You’re something beautiful, a contradiction. I wanna play the game, I want the friction.” Dom’s drumbeat kicked in and as they were all heading to the boardroom.

The doors locked with resounding clicks and thuds, but even those thick walls and wooden doors couldn’t hold back the battering soundwaves of the main chorus beginning. Matt absolutely savaged his guitar and Dom assaulted his drums to the high of the eargasm that is Time Is Running Out, some people even cheered.

Nobody doubted that the guests would be staying in the ballroom tonight.

Tara and Christian were striding through the halls side-by-side, taking up the width of the corridor so they were ideally positioned to stop any guilty killers fleeing past them. They’d discussed where they needed to go and were now doing it in silence so they could hear anyone who was approaching them. Tara wisely chose not to reveal to him how much this felt like Batman and Batgirl. Ideally it would be Batman and Robin, but she was happy to settle with the diminishing “girl” if it meant she had a batcape.

Her inner monologue of trying to stay away from thinking about the murders was interrupted by two pairs of running footsteps, and a lot of panting.

They stopped at the corridor intersection they’d come to and Christian looked at her to make sure she understood the pincer movement they were about to do. She nodded.

The owners of those footsteps sped around the corner and yelped as they skidded back from Christian Bale only just pulling short of his run to leap on them. They were sure Elijah let out a squeal. Tara placed a hand on Christian’s arm and had to really pull herself back from calling out: “It’s Frodo!” In a terrible Scottish accent.

“It’s fine, it’s just us.” Tara assured them instead. She frowned. “Why aren’t you in the ballroom?” She asked.

“Ballroom?” Christine asked in confusion.

“We need to get to get to the founders.” Elijah stated, a bit bristled and embarrassed by his sudden squeak when faced with the Batman.

“Woah woah woah, wait.” Christian said, easily stopping him with an out held palm. “Has there been another murder? We all know about them now.” He told him, trying to relay that he could trust him though his unwavering eyes.

Elijah looked at him dubiously but with Tara’s reassuring nod too, he relented.

“It’s Gerard, in the, uh, bondage room, full of arrows. Like 300.” Elijah told him, both he and Christine shuddered as they remembered it.

“Gerard?” Tara whispered with a pained knotting of her brow, but it went unheard by Elijah.

“We would have got here sooner but everybody was clogging up the lifts, we tried the stairs but, forgot how long they were.” Elijah panted again and Christian clapped him on the back.

“We’ll tell them ourselves, you two get to the ballroom now, everybody is being kept in there until we find the killer.” Christian told them. With wide eyes they were prepared to go, but Tara stopped them.

“Wait!” She called. “They’re not letting anyone in or out so-” She tried to yank her beloved turquoise horse pendant from her neck, but winced as she realised it never happens like it does in the movies, and quickly slipped it over her head instead. “Give Jared this, he’ll know it’s mine, he’ll let you in.” She said and gave Elijah her pendant. The Woods both ran off then with stitches in their sides and murmured thanks.

Christian raised an eyebrow at Tara again. “You sure that was a good idea?” He asked. He knew how precious it was to her.

“If I don’t get it back I’ll kill them.” She explained to him and with a snort they started running in the same direction up to the boardroom.

They ran like bats from hell, but by the time they got there they saw Kali and Lopa slipping into the boardroom with news of the latest deaths before them. They stopped.

“So Gerard’s dead.” Tara acknowledged into the silence, with thumps of Muse playing Invincible from the ballroom. Christian looked at her sympathetically as she took it in. They’d both known him. “Mark too. So they really are killing people who try and help.” She observed and rubbed her face.

“No.” He said immediately, knowing from the look on her face what she was thinking. “You had no idea that would happen to Mark, none of us did. You didn’t kill him.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed but still looked conflicted anyway. She covered it by pulling down the hem of her blue dress and started the walk back to the elevators. “Let me know if anything starts to look familiar.” She said to him as a side comment. He shot a puzzled look at her. “You were a druggie boxer, a psycho billionaire murderer, bloody Batman! You aren’t exactly known for your low-profile roles. If it wasn’t for Harrison Ford I’d say you were the most likely target.” She elaborated, laughing nervously at the end.

He gave her a look of rebuke with a fond smile playing around the corners of his eyes and lips.

She caught the look and sighed deeply. “OK. We might come across some stragglers too so, calm… How do you do that again?” She asked a tad hysterically.

“Just… Talk normally.” Christian suggested with a shrug as they waited for the lift.

“Ok. Its a nice evening outside. Not many clouds, bit cold but-” He cut off her pitiful attempt at discussing the weather with a dry look. They stepped into the elevator and it was only a few seconds before they were out again, they were the highest high-end ones they could get of course. Like something out of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.

“Ok ok!” She said and tried again as they stepped out into another hall. “You should go to Comic Con.” She said.

“What?” He shot back incredulously, but her voice was deep with serious consideration.

“You should!” She insisted. “But wear a mask so you won’t be bothered. Even Simon Pegg does it. Come on, you played Batman! It’s practically your duty!” She enthused incredulously.

“A mask?” He asked even more dubiously, but inside was more than a little amused at the subject she chose to talk normally on.

“Yeah, like the Hulk.” Tara replied, ignoring the jibe at another possible Batman reference. “A really detailed one. It’s suit your personality perfectly anyway.” She noted.

They walked in silence.

Christian looked at her. She looked at him.

His mouth began to twitch.

Whether it was the hysteria, the grief, suppressed panic, or the whole insane shocking situation they didn’t know, but they both continued their watchful walk down the hall with uncontrollable snorts and giggles.

As Kali, Lopa, Johnny and Misha ran through the halls of the mansion, they only came across the few brave souls who had offered to help solve this mystery. Everyone they met they asked the question - “Have you seen Tom? Or Ben? Or Mark?” They seemed to be getting around a bit, unsurprising this evening.

They eventually tracked them down coming out of the board room in a hurry.

“Guys! Jeez where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Kali said breathlessly. “Two more bodies have been found. Gerard and Helena. Both pretty gruesome.” She added with a look of fear as she remembered the grisly scenes.

The girls breathed in breaths of shock. But they were half-hearted. In an awful way, they were unsurprised and subconsciously just going through the motions.

“Where are they? We need to move them, and quickly.” Tom said “before anyone else finds them.”

“Agreed.” Mark answered.

“Gerard is in the dungeon. Helena in movie theatre 3. We can help.” Kali replied quickly.

“OK. Ben you help me with Helena. Mark you go with Johnny and Misha to move Gerard.” He looked at Johnny and Misha. “We’ve been putting the bodies in the locker rooms. That way we can keep the door locked. Be careful, and look after each other. If you see anyone on the way, let them know what has happened, ok?”

They all nodded and set about the tasks they’d been given.

Nat and Kali carefully untied the ropes that tied Gerard to the chair. They had closed his eyes, but that didn’t make the scene any better or easier to look at. They had taken out the arrows covering his body and blood had oozed out of them. Their dresses were ruined. But it was a small price to pay.

Once they had untied him, they left the rest to the men. They had brought a sheet with them, and wrapped him in it. Though it was already covered in blood, it would be better to see if they came across anyone than the body of the brave man in front of them.

“God damn the person who is doing this. Damn them to hell.” Kali muttered. Strong words for her, she was usually all about peace and love. But tonight had been enough to send even the most peaceful of people over the edge.

Misha, never fearing to show emotion, openly cried in the corner of the dungeon. Although he was used to seeing grim scenes on the set of Supernatural, they were staged. This was very real. And it had taken him till now to see it.

As Mark and Johnny picked up the body of their friend, Kali moved over to her emotional husband and snuggled close. As they watched Johnny and Mark walk out of the dungeon with Gerard’s body, wrapped in it’s bloody shroud, they followed silently, with Nat in tow.

As they arrived at the theatre, they all took stock of the scene before them. It was horrifying to say the least. Kali hadn’t been wrong. Helena must have been in pain as she took her last breaths, while staring into the eyes of her killer.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with.” Ben said quietly. They walked down to the screen and began the task of releasing her. They had come prepared with sheets to wrap her. Laura and Emily stood by and watched as Tom and Ben carefully wrapped her torn body. It was over in a few minutes, and then they were on their way back to the locker rooms.

They all arrived at similar times, with their carefully wrapped packages. All of them were silent as they placed the bodies of Helena and Gerard amongst the other dead friends. It was all so very surreal. Eight victims. Eight white figures lay across the benches and floor. The locker room would forever be a morgue in their minds. A morgue filled with their dead friends.

They all took a moment and then Laura broke it. “We need to get back and see where everyone is at. Kali, can you guys go back to the ballroom and let everyone know what’s happened? There shouldn’t be anymore lies tonight. Make sure Amy and Krissy are told first. They’re their partners, they don’t need to find out in the middle of a crowd.”

“Yes, of course!” Kali replied. Lopa, Johnny and Misha made to follow her out of the room. “Be careful ok?”

“Of course,” Tom said. “We always are.”

And with that, the foursome left.

The killer watched from the crack in a door. They grinned. If anyone else had witnessed that grin, they’d have known. The killer was past help. It was the grin of someone whose mind was truly lost.

It was almost time.

The one that mattered the most.

Everything was in place. The stage was set. All they needed were the players in the final solution. And they were still in the locker room.

Once they left, the game was on.

The killer waited, unable to stop grinning maniacally.

A few minutes later Tom, Emily, Ben and Laura left the locker rooms too. After moving yet another body, they all felt dejected. Like this was never going to end. They were all covered in blood, from various different sources. But Helena’s blood especially. There had been red pools everywhere. The bloody footprints now covering the floors and carpets of the mansion would never truly be gone. The rooms in which bodies had been discovered would hold the scars of this night for years to come. Some wouldn’t step foot in them again.

“When is this going to stop?” Emily said in a quiet voice, wrapping her arms around Tom.

“I don’t know Ma Reine. I don’t understand any of this.” Tom answered and kissed her forehead, squeezing her close.

The four of them stood for a moment, taking in the warmth of each others company. There had rarely been a moment of standing still all evening, and they were all emotionally drained. They had seen friends and acquaintances slain tonight. And they still didn’t know why.

“We should get back to the others,” Ben said quietly. “They’ll start to worry.”

They all started to make their way back to the ballroom, when they each heard a creak. They all looked at each other. They wanted to pass it off as an old house making noises, but after all they had been through that evening, weren’t prepared to take that chance. Ben and Tom held their spouses tightly as they continued down the small hall.

Then suddenly, the lights went out.

They didn’t make a sound, just clutched each other tightly in the thick darkness. Emily sensed a foreign presence nearby and felt hands grabbing her. Her hand was snatched from Tom’s and she screamed. It was quickly cut short and then, a deafening silence.

“Emily?!” Tom shouted as a door slammed behind them and the lights came back on.

The look of panic on Tom’s face was evident. He was whirling, trying to work out which door had opened. He gave up, chose one and dove through it. Laura and Ben instantly ran after him.

She struggled to keep up with them both. Taking a second to throw away the ridiculous shoes she’d somehow managed to wear all evening, she ran faster and grabbed Ben’s hand. There was no chance of keeping up with Tom. It was all they could do to keep him in their sights.

He was running frantically, with no purpose other than finding Emily. Occasionally they would hear another scream, which would change their direction. But eventually they ran out of a door and into the vast gardens.

Night had completely fallen. It was dark except for the candles lighting the pathways. As their eyes searched the grounds. Trees moved in a soft breeze, like ghouls floating in the night. The only sounds for miles was the sea crashing against the cliffs and water pouring from the various water features scattered across the vast landscape.

As they ran through flower beds and round intricate fountains, they arrived at a walk-way. A walk-way encased in flowers in different shades of pink and had been scattered with fairy lights for the evening. The lighting and scenery would be considered romantic in any other circumstance, but as they reached one end of the pathway, they heard a spluttering and a low moan from the other end of the path.

Laura’s insides went cold as she realised who the figure at the end of the path was. Tom had realised seconds before and sprinted to his wife, falling to his knees beside her.

She was still alive, but only barely. As he reached her he let out a heart-rending wail and cradled her head in his lap. As Laura and Ben reached the couple, they knew there was nothing to be done. A red pool had began to form around her. The shimmering gold of her dress had began to turn pink, even as her lips turned blue. He quickly took off the scarf he had been wearing and held it firmly to her neck. Ben followed suit and took off his jacket to cover her.

She had been stabbed three times. Once in the chest, once in the gut and one large gash at her throat. She was struggling for breath, as was Tom. His cries echoed around the garden and broke both Laura and Ben’s hearts. Laura knelt next to him and took one of his hands and Ben knelt next to her with tears in his eyes. They said not a word, but listened to Tom muttering quietly into Emily’s ear as he kissed her face, her forehead and her lips. He was muttering to her in French.

“Ma reine, tu es mon tout. Vous êtes l'amour de ma vie. Je t'aime de tout mon cœur. Je suis heureux de partager chaque instant de ma vie avec vous. Votre baiser est comme regarder les étoiles. Votre amour vaut un million d'étoiles. Vous ne pouvez pas aller! J'ai besoin de vous plus que la vie elle-même!”

Emily couldn’t reply, each time she tried, blood gushed from her neck. She was drowning in her own blood. But as she looked into his face, the pain and anguish there was also filled with overwhelming love and adoration. Through it all, no words were necessary. As Tom looked at her, he sobbed. His face glistened with tears, it seemed he would never stop.

Laura and Ben watched their best friends, both of them dying. Tom’s sobs causing more and more tiny cracks in each of their hearts, knowing there was nothing they could do to ease his pain, and thanking God that they could still hear the others heart beating.

Emily suddenly made a last effort and grabbed Tom’s shirt, her eyes wide and terrified, she gasped the word: “s-she...” and went silent. The pulsating blood slowed and her hand slipped and fell to the floor.

“No. No, no, no, no!” Tom cried. “No! Emily, wake up! Please, please please wake up!” He grabbed her lifeless body and held her close, as though he was trying to squeeze the life back into her. Instead, blood poured from her wounds and drenched his already covered shirt.

“Do something!” He shouted at them. “Get help! Anything! PLEASE!” He was crying uncontrollably now, and so the words tumbled out in a jumble. They looked at him, with sympathy and absolute grief. She was gone.

Unable to cope with watching her best friends heart shatter in front of her, Laura rose and walked away, tears streaming down her face and sobs escaping her mouth. Whether it was shock or just the final straw in a terrible night, her legs started to give way and she tried to stagger towards something sturdy. Ben followed her, holding back tears himself and, in an uncharacteristic move for them both, picked her up. He carried her and fell against the small hedge lining the path, he sat with his back to it and he cradled her as they cried.

“Oh mijn lief, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He sobbed.

In the darkness a figure watched. A figure watched and smiled with glee. She’s dead. The figure thought. Now I take what should have been mine! And with that, the shadow melted away, leaving the grief stricken trio to mourn under the moon and stars.

They cried for a while, until there were no more tears left. Tom had fallen silent, staring longingly into Emily’s face. He stroked her cold cheek as he did and ran his fingers through her blood soaked hair. He kissed her constantly, as though desperate to believe that true loves kiss would wake her, and him from his nightmare.

Eventually, he got up, gently picked Emily up and cradled her close to his chest. Her head fell against him, if it weren’t for her eyes, she could almost be sleeping.

Then, without a word, he started to walk slowly back to the mansion.

“Tom!” Ben shouted. But he wasn’t listening. They both scrambled to their feet and ran after him.

As they caught up, they kept their distance. Close enough to be on hand, but far enough to give him space. The thought he meant to lay her with the other bodies in the locker rooms.

But he had a different destination in mind. As they followed him through the halls, they passed people on their way. There were gasps of shock as they passed.

Several voices cried out, “Emily?!” and “what’s happened?!” He ignored them all, as did Laura and Ben. When they reached the elevator, Ben quickly pressed for the top floor, knowing exactly where Tom wanted to take his wife. He would do the same.

They left the elevator on the sixth floor.

He was heading for his and Emily’s room. When they arrived, Ben silently opened the door and Tom walked through. Emily’s clothes littered the floor, obviously from changing for the evening. Her make-up was out on the dresser and her perfume hung in the air. The smell brought tears to Laura’s eyes all over again.

He laid her on the bed and gently closed her eyes. He placed her hands at her sides and stood, watching over her. It was almost as though he was putting her into bed to get better. Expecting her to wake up in the morning and eat a bowl of chicken soup.

Thinking to herself, Laura said “I’ll be back in a minute.” and hurried out of the room. She went across the hall to hers and Ben’s room. She always made sure it was filled with flowers. All different kinds. She carefully chose several bunches, mixtures of roses, lilies and freesias, and returned across the hall.

She walked silently round to the side of the bed, sat down, and began scattering the flowers around Emily’s body. She didn’t care if it was from The Hunger Games. Now she knew how Katniss felt. She didn’t want the killer to win. She wouldn’t let the killer take away Emily’s beautiful nature. She covered the bloody wounds on her body, and scattered flowers in her hair. Laura felt childish, but as soon as she finished, Tom engulfed her and sobbed all over again.

And so they sat, the three of them, wallowing in their grief, while Emily slept, surrounded by flowers, and those who loved her most.

“We’ve got to get back. People will worry. And we need to end this.” Ben said. They got up, Laura wiped her eyes and readjusted herself.

“Ok. Let’s go.” She replied.

They left the room and Tom locked the door behind them. And it seemed, he had left his grief in there too.

“Let’s go find the bastard who did this shall we?” Were his words before he stormed off down the corridor, in the direction of the lift.