Raven: Series Preview

Halloween, For Real

 The apartment door flew open. Honey glanced up from the lamb vindaloo she was stirring slowly in a big black pot on the hob. Raven was home from work, and not looking too happy with life.

‘Good day at the office, hun?’ she asked cautiously, already fearing it wasn’t.

Raven’s tone seemed to confirm it. ‘Guess so. Same as ever.’ She threw her briefcase onto the red leather sofa, and sighed over-dramatically. Honey left the brew to its own devices, walked over and gave her friend a hug. And then gave her the news she suspected wouldn’t go down too well. 'The boss has been in touch. We’ve got our instructions for tonight.'

'Tell me something I don’t know. He who must be obeyed on his special day, and all that…' Raven followed the briefcase onto the sofa, pulling the face from hell as she slumped into it. Two weeks had passed since they'd been given a job, but tonight was always going be the night. ‘At least it’s the one day of the year we won't be the only ones dressed for the occasion,’ she said with a humourless smile.

‘What’s wrong, Rave?’ Honey sat down beside her, and took her slightly-trembling hand.

‘Nothing.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Ok then, nothing I want to talk about.’

‘So is it the day job or the night shift?’

Raven ran nervous hands through her long black hair. ‘You know you’re a pain in the butt, don’t you, Hon?’

‘The night gig then.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You can tell aunty Hon all about it, but I know there’s more chance of hell freezing over. You’ll just keep it all bottled up, and then unleash your frustrations on some poor unsuspecting stranger.’

‘Yes, aunty.’

Ginger appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of red lace knickers with a black heart positioned just where it needed to be. Her auburn hair, cut into a curly bob, was wrapped around huge curlers, and a dark-green seaweed face mask covered pretty much everything except for her green eyes and full lips. She flashed the cheeky, infectious grin that nobody on the planet could resist.  'Hi Rave, good day?'

Raven didn’t answer, but the ferocious scowl spoke a thousand words.

Ginger wasn’t fazed. ‘Oh dear, pardon me for caring.’

‘Rave is handing in her notice,’ Honey laughed.

‘Really? They going to survive without their ice-cool PA to keep the office running?’

‘Not the day job, the other one.’

Ginger froze, looking unsure for a moment, and then the grin was back. ‘Yeah, funny.’ She reached across the sofa to where a long, three-pronged trident stood against the corner of the wall. 'Just grabbing my fork, it needs a bit of a polish.'

Raven growled, moved her aside and stood up. ‘Do you have to dangle your boobs in my face, Ging?’ The words were spat out.

‘Oh, is little miss hissy-fit jealous?’ She jiggled the offending articles up and down in the palms of her hands. ‘Cos I’ve got more than you?’

‘I prefer quality over quantity,’ Raven retorted. 'And why do you carry that thing around anyway? Don't you think it's a bit kind of… clichéd?'

'Me clichéd?' laughed Ginger. 'You're the one who wanders around at night in a gothic steampunk dress and cloak!'

'It works with the hair.'

Chapter 1

As she-devils go, Raven isn’t really that scary. Not during the day. But when nightfall comes around, something changes. Something a bit unnerving.

For those around her, at least.

By day she lives the kind of life that wouldn't raise a pensioner's eyebrows. A PA for one of the directors of a major insurance company, she epitomises normality. Mega-efficient, super-smart and ice-cool, she doesn't have many friends amongst her female work-colleagues… they're all too jealous of her.

She gets plenty of attention from her male colleagues though. Raven is stunningly beautiful. Tall and slim, she nevertheless possesses all the curves a woman could ever wish for, and her flawless white skin contrasted perfectly with her long silky black hair, which had just enough natural wave to shimmer in the light and look like she'd dyed in deep-blue highlights.

Raven is a terrible flirt, and teases her male colleagues… and the female ones too… until they crumple inside with sheer frustration. She drives them to near-insanity, and walks a very thin tightrope between safety and danger. But anything resembling a relationship is a step too far. The morning after the night before would be a nightmare in Raven’s world.

For whoever spent it with her, anyway.

So she can't take that risk. She likes her day job and the buzz that comes with it… but a work-colleague suddenly going missing after a night out with her wouldn't look good on the CV.

Raven has a second job. It was always part of her, as long as she could remember. Back when it was all there was, she carried out her duties without a second thought. But lately something had changed… something inside. Now she doesn't want it in her life... not that it’s her choice to make. Like eating and sleeping, it's just something she must do.

In some ways her night-time job is similar to her daytime one… except her employer is a little higher up the universal hall of fame.

When darkness falls, Raven is a personal assistant to Satan.

By day she may be ice-cool... but by night she's one hundred percent red-hot.

It's not a full-time job, nowhere near. She'd never earn a living from it, even if it actually had a salary. But from the time the sun sets until it rises the next day, Raven is on call. And when that particular boss says jump… well, you do. No questions asked.

She kind of hopes one day he’ll tire of her… give her notice of redundancy, or whatever happens when the job from hell is no more. Part of her knows that would be a relief, because at least then she could spend a night with someone in the knowledge they'd still be there the next day. The other part knows that, unlike jobs on Earth, satanic employment seems to be for life.

Raven shares her super-cool apartment with her two friends, Honey and Ginger. They’re not the contents of her kitchen cupboard, they're very much like-minded room-mates.

They're she-devils too.

Honey is gorgeous… long blonde hair with a natural curl, and deep blue eyes. Ginger is just impossibly cute, and armed to the teeth with the irresistible smile that makes everyone go weak at the knees. Unfortunately for the male of the species. When it comes to relationships, both of Raven's friends have the same problem she does.

When it comes to love, the apartment is a no-go zone. Just like their lives.

Honey did succumb once, a year or so ago. Fell in love and couldn't help herself. She tried to keep their meetings to daylight hours, but then took the risk of a night with him. Satan didn't approve. The poor guy ended up a gibbering wreck, mumbling something incomprehensible about hell on Earth. The police got involved, but fortunately for the girls they visited the apartment in the daytime, so everything appeared normal. Nothing ever came of it, and the whole sorry episode disappeared without trace.

Except for the unfortunate guy, who thought when the girl of his dreams agreed to go out with him he was heading for heaven, but ended up not coming out of it too well.

He's still in a mental institution to this day…

The words were getting blurred. Mika dragged her eyes away from the screen, glanced at the time, and shocked herself.  She'd been writing solidly for four hours, but it seemed like one. And it was late, the time sensible people should be asleep. But the book was captivating her. She wanted to carry on.

Her eyes refused to agree, so reluctantly she saved her work and turned off the PC.  A little more research was needed before going much further anyway. It was her first book about she-devils and the mysteries of Satan, and only having gone in that direction for a very small part of a previous story, she needed to bone up a little.

It wasn't exactly the best of nights outside. Heavy rain hammered onto the felt roof of the log cabin in the garden that served as her office, the huge drops filling the room with a constant drumming sound. In the distance, a rumble of thunder growled menacingly.

Watching the rain through the glass doors, she wasn't sure whether to make a run for it or wait a while to see if it subsided. But then it seemed to get even heavier, and suddenly there was no doubt a storm had arrived. A huge fork of lightning lit up the sky, a weird red-tinted flash that seemed to last for ages.

There was no point hanging around. She ran the short distance back to the house, and fifteen minutes later, buried under the duvet, sleep came to call... even though thoughts of the next chapter were trying to stop it happening. She wasn't sure yet what havoc to create for Raven and her friends to wreak on Halloween, but as she drifted away, anything resembling brainwork was no longer an option.

 Chapter 2

A morning dew just bordering on frost sparkled in the sunlight as Mika made her way back to the cabin. Sometime in the night the storm clouds had gone, and were replaced by a perfect blue autumn sky. It was the kind of day to invite a walk on the nearby beach, but not for her. She had something much more important to do.

The switch on the life-support machine in the cabin was flicked on straightaway. While she waited for it to boil the PC was fired up, and within two minutes a mega-strong coffee sat on the desk, the caffeine hit ready to help kick-start the day's writing.

She was looking forward to a day-long date with her three girls.

The book came up on screen. She scrolled down to the chapter she'd finished before the eyes had given out, and began to read it through, coffee cup in hand. Then she reached the last sentence.

The cup almost dropped onto the desk. Her hand was shaking so much it couldn't hold onto it. The breath froze in her lungs. Her eyes stared disbelievingly at the screen.

The last sentence wasn't the last sentence anymore. Something else was there below it.

Something she hadn't written.

'I wouldn't have said that.'

Her freaked out eyes darted frantically around the page, as if that would make the sentence she hadn't written disappear. Then, when she realised it was going nowhere, she finally moved another part of her body.

A shaking hand grabbed the mouse and deleted the sentence. For a millisecond it felt like it was never there, but for some weird reason she deleted the delete and it was back. Then the doubts crept in.

Had she written it after all, too tired to realise what she was doing? Come on, last night it was her eyes that gave out, not her sanity.

Wasn’t it?

She discovered her legs still worked, staggered over to the Georgian glass doors, and stood gazing out over the garden, trying to think rationally. Did some practical joker break in and write the words? She checked the lock, and then called herself an idiot… she'd unlocked it a half-hour ago.

Then she forced herself to take a moment, and reminded her head she'd told it to think rationally… someone else writing the sentence was hardly rational. There was no other explanation, she must have had a brainstorm along with the real storm in the night, and written it herself.

She slumped back down, made a note to go visit the doctor, deleted the sentence-in-question and moved on to the next chapter…

…Raven sat at her desk tapping away on her laptop between yawns. It had been a full night of little more than daft practical jokes. Satan seemed to want a bit of fun on Halloween, so he'd given his girls a long list of tasks that did little more than remind the human race hellish events actually do happen.

There was one incident which could have been more serious though, in the early hours as they were walking back to the apartment. In a dark side street, they saw three figures coming towards them. Although staggering might be a better word.

Honey glanced uneasily to Raven. ‘Just leave it, hey Rave? We’re done for the night.’

‘Put your mumsy instincts away, Hon. I can’t be bothered with any more assholes.’

Sadly for the three lads, they weren’t prepared to leave it. The stench of way too much beer was all too obvious as they blocked the way of the three girls.

‘Whoa lads, look what we’ve got here,’ said the one with the hoody tight around his face. ‘And there’s me thinkin’ I ain’t pulled tonight.’

‘We don’t want any trouble, just let us through please,’ said Honey, trying to find a gap between the slightly-swaying figures.

The one with the woolly hat moved to block her way. ‘Aw c’mon baby, don’t be selfish. I could do with a quick spooking, if you get my drift.’

The two others laughed. ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ growled Honey.

The third guy, the crotch of his baggies almost down to his knees, reached out and roughly grabbed a lock of Ginger’s hair. ‘Always fancied me a red-head,’ he leered. ‘Or red-hot!’

Laughter again. Ginger scowled, and shoved his hand away. ‘You sure you could get it up, the state of you?’

He feigned mock horror. ‘You saying I’m under the affluence of incohol?’

‘Maybe. Or perhaps you’re just naturally this dumb.’

He didn’t seem to like that, and took a step towards her. ‘Oh, red-hot, you’ve done it now. Challenging my sexual proficiency. I’ll show you just how much I can get it up…’

Ginger levelled her trident at him. ‘Bet I can get my tool up first, genius.’

He grinned inanely. ‘What, that toy?’

‘Toy? You wanna experience having a second little prick, prick?’

He laughed menacingly, and kind of infuriatingly, so Ginger lunged at him, just to teach him a lesson. The prongs of the trident met his chest, and a huge shower of golden sparks seared out and twisted fifty feet into the frosty air, wailing eerily like the banshee from hell.

He staggered back, clutching his slightly-smoking chest. ‘What the...’

‘You didn’t want sparks to fly then?’

Hoody looked at his mates, his alcohol-induced bravado getting the better of his unease. ‘What do you reckon, lads? Is that a challenge?’ Woolly-hat and Baggies nodded. He raised a hand in the air, and took a step towards the girls. ‘One for one and all for all…’

Raven looked at Honey, and shook her head. ‘For fuck’s sake, now we’ve got the three drunken musketeers!’

‘Rave…’

She wasn’t listening, too busy pointing a finger at the ground in front of the musketeers. A wall of flame exploded into life. Hoody, slightly in front of his henchmen, jumped into the air with a girlie squeal, and began to dance around like he was auditioning for Happy Feet.

His feet weren’t happy. They were on fire.

‘What’s up, d’Artagnan? Thought you liked it hot?’

‘You crazy bitch…’ he shrieked, as the other two stamped on his feet and managed to extinguish the flames, in a painful kind of way. ‘How the hell did you do that?’

Raven threw him a sultry look. ‘Want to find out, monsieur?’

Suddenly he was really angry. ‘Oh yeah, now you’ve turned up the heat, baby…’ His smoking trainers began to stride towards Raven. They didn’t get very far. A huge ball of flame appeared next to her, and began to roll along the ground, heading right for him. He managed to hotfoot it out of the way, but as it reached the other musketeers it exploded into a billowing cloud of acrid black smoke.

The girls could hear coughing and spluttering coming from inside the cloud, but could see nothing. As it began to disperse, the ghoulish shapes of the three drunken and somewhat-blackened musketeers staggered into view.

Hoody glared at Raven, and pointed a shaking finger. ‘I don’t…’ He didn’t get any further, the sheer effort of speaking inducing another manic coughing fit. He ripped the hood back, allowing the smoke that had found its way inside the fabric to escape. ‘I don’t know what joke shop you bitches have been to, but this ain’t over…’

He turned to stagger away, but Raven hadn’t finished. ‘Hey! Any time you want a rematch d’Artagnan. I’m smoking hot remember!’

His hand slipped behind his back, gesturing his feelings about that without words. It didn’t go down too well with Raven, so she strode after them. ‘So nothing to say, huh? Cowardly French pigs…’

Honey grabbed her arm, and pulled her back. ‘Enough, Rave. And they’re not French, you’re getting carried away again.’

‘Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. But I haven’t finished with them…’

‘Yes you have. Rein yourself in, before you make things worse.’

She linked her arm into Raven’s, turned her around with an iron grip, and the three girls headed away in the opposite direction.

‘For a minute there I thought you were going to torch all three of them,’ said Honey grimly.

‘I might have done if you hadn’t stopped me.’

Ginger grinned cheekily. ‘I’d have just forked the living daylights out of them,’ she said.

There was a serious side to their Halloween antics. Their boss had used the night to carry out a little marketing and promotion. There would be a few newspaper reports that day of unexplained but scarily-spooky incidences that would provide a chunk of free publicity.

It had meant zero sleep, and Raven was hammering the coffee machine to help her get through the day. A day that was about to get a whole lot worse.

Her boss poked his head around the door. 'Raven, you got anything planned later?'

'Um… not sure. Why?'

'I know this is a bit last-minute, but the CEO of the new acquisition has put our meeting back a few hours. As you know we need you there.'

Raven's heart began to pound in her chest. A few hours? 'How late will it be, Brian?'

'Sorry, could be eight, maybe nine tonight before we'll be done.'

Dark. It will be well dark by then. 'I can't do it Brian. I… I'm sorry.'

His face changed. 'You know how important this is. Surely you can spare one evening?'

She hesitated, and then stammered out a few half-excuses which didn't please her boss.

'Look Raven, I don't know what your problem is, this isn't like you. I need you there. Is that ok?' The words were firm, and didn’t include a question.

Raven nodded silently, and the boss disappeared.

She closed the laptop with trembling hands, her ice-cool daytime persona melting into something more resembling a heat wave. She knew she couldn't let her boss see the red-hot night-time Raven. That really would spell the end.

Chapter 3

Mika broke off from the chapter, her stomach reminding her she’d skipped breakfast in her eagerness to get to the book. Back in the house, a couple of slices of bread sank into the toaster, and the jar of marmalade was pulled from the cupboard.

She decided to Google around doing a bit of research while she ate, so took the plate back to the cabin. She’d just grabbed the mouse to click off Word when her eyes fell on the sentence. The first bite of the toast stuck in her throat.

This time it sure as hell couldn't be explained rationally.

There on the page was another sentence she hadn't written...

'You've got to rewrite the last bit.'

She cried out, completely forgetting the mouthful of toast which then almost choked her to death as she spluttered disgustingly around the cabin. The coffee was cold but she didn't care, swigging a huge gulp, which did nothing but make her cough and splutter even more. Then she caught sight of her cartoon-like antics in the tiny mirror hanging on the pine-log wall. Feeling a little ridiculous, she straightened up, swallowed hard, and sat back down.

None of the coughing and spluttering had made the slightest difference. The sentence was still there.

'What the hell is going on?' she screamed out to no one, and then felt even more stupid when the next-door neighbour called over the fence to ask if everything was ok. She smiled weakly through the open door, and said she was just getting into character.

Although the character getting into her was probably nearer the truth.

She told herself to think sensibly. Then she scrubbed that thought, on the basis there was nothing sensible about any of it. Was someone remote-accessing her computer? Was she being hacked? Meathead... on Microsoft Word? People don't hack that.

A stab of slightly-insane fear thumped through her body. Her petrified eyes flicked around the room, she heard herself call out. 'Who are you? What do you want?'

The sound of her own shaky voice made her shake her head, and force back the sanity.

Whatever sanity was anymore.

Had she accidentally unleashed some kind of… no, she told herself to not even go there. This was Norfolk, not Dante's Inferno. And anyway, whatever it was saying those things, it wasn’t with spoken words. It was with written ones.

She couldn’t seem to stop them... hands she didn’t own went ever-so-slowly to the keyboard and typed the words she’d just cried out, right below the ones someone else had written.

‘Who are you? What do you want?’

She watched the screen with rapidly-blinking eyes for a couple of minutes, but nothing happened. Then her legs decided they’d also got a mind of their own, and started pacing around the cabin. Her head seemed to be shaking, probably a subconscious disbelief at her peculiar behaviour.

None of that stopped her eyes glancing back to the screen every ten seconds. Still nothing was happening.

After almost an hour she slumped back into the chair, and then stood up straightaway as the light bulb on top of her head suddenly burst into life. Both the sentences written by someone else had popped up on screen when the cabin was empty.

She went back to the house, and gave it ten minutes while the floor there got paced instead. Then her legs began to grow weary, so she braved the cabin once more.

Like she was playing the lead in a Hollywood fright-night movie, slowly her eyes focused onto the screen.

Nothing.

Not a word.

There were no answers. No explanation as to what was happening. She stood quietly on the small open deck, composing her jangling nerves, and telling herself she could either call the men in white coats or actually get something useful done. She decided the first option wasn’t so appealing, swallowed hard yet again, and went back to Raven. In for a penny…

…Raven was high enough up the food-chain at the insurance company to have a secretary. She walked through into Damian’s tiny office with the laptop under her arm, and said she was going out for a while. He narrowed his eyes. 'You ok, Raven?'

'Sure, just need some air,' she lied.

Damian didn't look convinced, but she wasn't going to wait around for any more questions. She left the building, headed into the public park just across the road, and found a bench. It wasn't the warmest of late autumn days but she was sweating, something she never did. What should she do? Bailing out on the evening meeting wouldn't go down at all well, but attending could have enormous consequences on everyone.

Could she resist the night-time urges, and get away with wearing some kind of headgear to hide the red horns that appear when darkness falls? It would only be for a couple of hours. But the last time she tried that she’d freaked out big time… a she-devil trying to keep her natural instincts under wraps wasn't a pretty sight.

She opened the laptop, read the words on the screen, and began tapping keys.

 'You of all people should know who I am. You're the one who created me…'

Mika’s fingers froze on the keyboard. Her brain froze in her head. The words just appeared in front of her eyes… one letter at a time.

And it wasn't her doing the typing.

The office chair on wheels careered across the room, propelled by a panic-fuelled shove of legs, until it hit the far wall and could go no further. She struggled to her feet, threw open both cabin doors, and leant on the little rail built on the side of the deck, supporting herself as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

That proved impossible. She hadn't a clue what was going on. Raven, writing to her?

That was impossible too.

She braved the screen once more, but Raven had sent no further messages. Should she reply?

What?

Could she reply? Surely, anything she wrote would just be another sentence in the book?

Wondering how it was humanly possible to have a conversation with a character in a story, her mashed-up brain somehow managed a semi-intelligent thought. Shaking fingers hovered over the keypad, but actually touching any keys was proving difficult.

Likely because if what she was about to do actually worked, it would prove beyond any doubt she was having an online chat with someone who didn't exist.

Or alternatively, that she’d finally gone clinically insane. Right then it wasn’t too clear which option was nearer the truth. Or preferable.

But she couldn't go on not knowing. She clicked the cursor to the line below Raven's message, and began to write as if she was a narrator, taking the book in a different direction…

…I sent a message to Raven, hoping it would reach her and we could start a conversation. It was just three words, but it asked a very important question… 'Are you Raven?'…

Mika sat motionless, staring at the VCR. Right then it was her whole world. Nothing else existed. She waited, her heart pounding, listening to nothing but the blood coursing through her veins. It seemed like hours. It wasn’t hours, but even so it felt like time had changed its pace.

It reminded her of sitting in a dentist’s waiting room, trying to think nice things to take your mind off the potentially-horrific reality you knew was coming.

She tried to shake sanity back into her head. The thought-babbling had to stop, so she could concentrate on the real world. Whatever the real world was.

There wasn’t too long to wait. The dentist’s receptionist called out her name, and the potentially-horrific insanity became all too real...

'Thank Satan. We can actually talk. Of course I'm Raven… thought you writers were supposed to be intelligent?'

Oh shit. A character in a book was talking to her. With attitude. Trembling fingers typed a reply like she was seeing a keyboard for the first time. It wouldn't do for one of her own creations to see what a bad typist she was.

'But how? This is impossible, Raven. How are you doing this?'

'You created me as a PA. I've got a laptop, remember?'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Anything else is a mystery to me too. Since the storm last night I've felt like a real person.'

'I had a storm too... weird kind of red lightning.'

'Same here. Hell of a bad night.'

'That's not funny.'

'Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.'

 Mika looked up to the pine ceiling of the cabin, her brain reeling. Something epic had happened last night, and now one of the characters from her current book had come to life. Somehow pieces were fitting together, but then two amazingly-sensible questions popped into her imploded but still-functioning head. The first was incongruous enough.

But the second question filled her with mind-numbing, terror-stricken dread.

She asked the first question. 'Where are you, Raven?'

'Sitting on a bench in the park across from the office.'

'But I've just written that bit in the book.'

'Well you do pull my strings, queen of words.'

She ignored that, probably because her whole body was shaking with the fear brought on by the second question on the list. The one no one could answer for sure, not right then. The one that could change everything for everyone.

Was Raven the only character from the book to come alive, or did the same thing happen to every character?

Because if they'd all come to life, one of them would be Satan himself.

Chapter 4

Mika’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard again. Should she ask Raven the second question? She decided not, she wouldn't know the answer yet anyway, and she didn't want to put the fear of god into her.

Perhaps that was the wrong expression.

About to type again, Raven beat her to it. 'So are you going to write something to save me tonight?'

'That's not the storyline I had in mind.'

'Fuck the story, in case you haven't noticed something's changed around here. So I'm desperate… in more ways than one.'

'Are you being crude?'

'Just get me out of tonight's meeting, please? I'll be your friend forever.'

'That's what I'm afraid of.'

'Well do it because you're a nice kind woman who doesn't want to see a she-devil suffer then.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

Mika headed back outside into the late autumn sun. It wasn't too easy to type right then anyway, her hands shaking and her head in bits. She looked into the blue sky for any sign of ominous-looking black clouds to indicate the dawn of the apocalypse was approaching, but the sky was clear, the birds were singing, and all was well with the world.

She had to pull herself together. She was writing a comic-fantasy, not The Quatermass Experiment Resurrection.

A comic-fantasy that was fast becoming anything but fantasy.

Or comic.

She buried her face in slightly-clammy hands, went back into the cabin, found a fork on the worktop and stabbed it into her hand, an idiotic desperate act to prove it was all just a dream.

She winced with the pain. It hurt like hell.

Another bad choice of phrase.

Sitting at the screen again, a million thoughts raced through a brain that against the odds was trying to be logical. Raven has asked to be written out of tonight's meeting, so if Mika could actually make that happen, it would mean she really could pull Raven’s strings with her words.

Ignoring the slightly-ironic thought that both men and women had been doing that to each other for centuries, she reminded herself that in this particular case she actually was pulling Raven's strings.

Following that thought process through, it would mean nothing unfortunate could possibly happen unless she wrote it first. If Raven could have got herself out of the meeting she would have already done it. Feeling a little happier, and an awful lot more relieved that it seemed she was in control of events, her fingers dropped to the keys, and went back to the book to do what Raven had asked…

…Raven walked slowly back into the office building, her mind racing as she tried to invent possible excuses she could use that wouldn't sound like she was making excuses. She smiled sweetly to Damian as she passed through his office, sat down heavily at her desk, and opened the laptop in the vain hope of finding a website that listed suggestions for ways to get out of a meeting with the boss.

Then the boss in question stuck his head around the door again. He didn't look happy, but this time it was nothing to do with Raven. 'Bloody CEO has now put the meeting back until tomorrow morning, so you're off the hook tonight,' he spat out angrily. 'Let's just hope the idiot turns up then, this is getting ridiculous.'

He thundered off down the corridor. Raven smiled to herself, and breathed a sigh of relief that some kind of less-than-divine intervention had saved her soul this time…

Mika sat back in her chair. Raven had been written a get out of jail free card. Now they were friends forever, whatever that meant. She needed lunch, and stood up with a heavy heart. The ominous feeling was growing that she might well be in control of events, but Raven wasn't the only one getting her strings pulled.

Just before she left the cabin she glanced back to the screen. Raven had sent a message, just two words.

'Thank you.'

After a lunch of salad and hummus that did its best to stick in her throat, Mika braved the cabin again, even though she now seemed to be suffering from a bad case of paranoid jitters. Her eyes darted furtively around, as if expecting someone… or something… to be waiting there. No one and nothing was.

Of course it wasn't.

Online conversations or not, Raven was just a character in a book.

The next hour was taken up with inane staring at a blue screen that said no signal. The mouse, or anything else that would bring the book from hell back onto the screen, hadn’t been touched. Nothing seemed to matter other than trying to piece together the jigsaw Mika Mills the author had inadvertently created, even though there were far too many pieces missing to complete the picture.

But then she made an epic decision. On the basis she actually had control of events, she could delete the book and all record of it. And then it would be like none of it ever happened.

Wouldn't it?

Then she remembered the weird flash of red-tinted lightning in the sky last night. She didn't write that bit. And that was right there in Norfolk.

To hell with it, the book had to go.

She jiggled the mouse, the screen came to life, and a pang of nervousness hit her like a sledgehammer. It was there, the seemingly innocent pages of prose she'd seriously enjoyed writing. But then she found herself at a cross-road, and there was no signpost.

She had to delete it… didn't she? Nip this in the bud before all hell broke loose?

But she was a storyteller. She wrote love stories of gutsy, spirited women, wrapped up in paranormal and fantasy settings. Exactly what she was about to delete. All authors have a natural curiosity, especially for anything out of the box.

This was so far out of the box it was in the next galaxy.

She buried her face in trembling hands. Should she run with it, at least for a while longer, in the name of science or, paranormal exploration? Was she just inventing these excuses for completely different reasons? She hesitated, her fingers not appearing too keen to find the delete option. But then her forever-friend interrupted the peaceful indecision, as once more words appeared in front of her eyes.

'I've got another favour to ask.'

'Hello Raven,' she typed back.

'Hello Mika honey.'

'Honey?'

'I like you.'

'You don’t even know me.'

‘I’d like to though.’

‘Where are you going with this, Raven?’

'How old am I?'

She thought for a moment, and realised she hadn't specified an exact age for Raven in the book. 'Mid-to-late twenties I guess.'

'See? Twenty-seven and I can't even remember the last time I got any.'

'That's because you've never had... sex. You're a she-devil remember, you'd make mincemeat of the poor guy.'

'Hell of a way to go though!'

That's not funny.'

‘Anyway, who’s talking about guys?’

A pang of something shot through Mika. ‘Raven... are you saying you’re into...’

‘Well you are. And as I’m just an extension of you...’

‘You’re not an extension of me... you’re a character in a book...’

‘Really? So you’re totally insane after all then, chatting online to an imaginary friend?’

Mika looked at the words on the screen she hadn’t written, wiped away the beads of sweat on her forehead, glanced at the roof once more, and then forced her eyes back to the screen. The brutally-truthful words were still there.

‘Ok... so I’m wrong about the character in the book thing.’

‘And the me being you thing?’

‘No... yes... you’re not me, ok?’

‘Have it your way. You’re a cruel and heartless bitch though, so that’s one thing we share.’

‘Why am I a cruel and heartless bitch?’

‘You’re the puppet-mistress and you won’t let me get any. A virgin at my age, it’s a disgrace.’

‘That can’t be a factor for you. You only get feelings, sexual or otherwise, if I write them in.’

‘Then why have I felt as horny as hell since yesterday?’

Oh boy. Mika turned away from the screen, a dull ache in her stomach. All she’d wanted to do was write a book about she-devils. Now one of them is her friend forever, a diva with attitude, and she’s sexually frustrated. A not-so-small pang of sadness wrapped itself around her, as the decision she’d been wrestling with was finally made. Raven had just signed her own death-warrant.

She had to delete the book.

Nonetheless, Mika wasn’t the kind of girl to stab someone in the back. Raven had to know what was about to happen. Reluctant fingers typed the words…

'I'm so sorry Raven, I can't handle this. I'm going to delete the book and all record that it ever existed.'

It was a full minute before the words came up on screen.

'So now you're not just cruel and heartless, you're a murderer too.'

'Raven, you're a creation of my imagination. You don't exist, I can't murder you.'

'So why am I crying? Did you just imagine that bit?'

'Please don't do this. It's hard enough anyway.'

'Please honey, I'm begging now.'

Mika knew she had to find the strength, and put all the irrational feelings aside. 'I'm sorry, Raven. I have to do this.'

A soon as she’d written the sentence, she shut down Word one second later.

Raven wouldn’t get another opportunity to plead for her life.

 Chapter 5

For three hours, nothing happened. That's wasn’t strictly true… occasionally Mika would get up and pace the room, wondering why it was so difficult to carry out a simple act like deleting a Word document.

Maybe it had something to do with being called a murderer.

Can you be put in prison for killing someone who doesn’t actually exist?

Her four log walls were starting to feel like solitary confinement, so she drove the short distance to Sea Palling beach, hoping a brisk sea breeze would blow some sense into her.

She strolled along the sand right next to the gently-lapping waves. It was the beginning of November, the tourists had gone, and the beach was virtually deserted except for a couple of locals and their dogs. She watched as the animals ran around the quiet sands, the freedom of the open air giving them a zest for life that she couldn't seem to feel right then.

Somehow the awful smell of death wouldn’t leave her nostrils.

She stood awhile, staring out to sea. She made a striking, distinctive sight on the almost-empty beach. The long black coat she wore on all but the hottest of days was unbuttoned, as always, revealing a grey skirt delicately patterned with tiny black leaves. She always wore a skirt, always below the knee, and never straight-hemmed.

Complemented by high black boots with a lot of chrome buckles, and the black Fedora hat she never left home without, the dramatic outfit contrasted perfectly with her light blonde hair, styled into a long bob that just caressed the top of her shoulders.

Mika liked her look, but was all too aware the power-dressing was partly a defence mechanism. Known in the village as friendly but not so approachable, she never let socialising go too far. Coffee invitations were never accepted, instead politely refused, with excuses made by the demon still living inside her.

The tenacity and determination of a pit-bull terrier contrasted sharply with her inner fear. She never let it show, but sometimes when the demon made its presence felt she struggled with her self-esteem, often fighting to convince her heart the life she’d chosen was the right one.

She’d moved to the village after a bitter breakup, which hit her harder than she would ever admit. Throwing herself into her writing, the characters she created became her world... the friends she could always trust to do as she wanted.

They were the friends who would never do anything to hurt her, or mess with her peaceful life. A life that would only change if she wanted it to.

Or so she’d thought...

The slowly-turning vanes of the wind turbines a mile or so offshore helped to soothe her troubled mind, their gentle, predictable motion a world away from her turbulent, unpredictable thoughts.

Why was she feeling like this? Somehow Raven had found life, but it wasn’t a real life. It couldn’t be. Some freak occurrence had manifested itself, like a bug in a computer. It could never last. All she had to do was press the right buttons, and the bug would be zapped.

Wouldn’t it?

She turned away from the calm sea, and headed back to the promenade. It was tempting to go find the local school, and write over and over until the whole blackboard was covered with the phrase, 'It's just a book'. But then she remembered the scene from The Shining when another writer, Jack Torrance, wrote 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,' about a million times on his typewriter.

What happened to him wasn’t a pretty sight.

She decided against grabbing the chalk, and drove home instead. The sun disappeared below the horizon as she pulled onto the drive, a full moon just peeping over the rooftops ready to welcome in the night.

She shivered. It wasn't that cold, but just thinking the word night seemed to awaken the dread.

Back in the cabin she flicked on the lights and brewed a coffee. For some inexplicable reason her body seemed to want to stay as far away from the computer as possible. She hovered around the far side of the cabin, like a shy party guest who really didn’t want to be there.

After ten minutes of hovering, and sipping the coffee with both hands wrapped around the mug like a little child, it began to dawn on her she couldn’t stay in petrified inaction forever. She braved the office chair, and somehow found the strength to fire up Word.  A shaking finger moved the mouse. The book appeared on screen… or rather what had become the conversation with the woman she was about to kill did.

She was fooling herself. She couldn't kill anyone… not even someone who didn't actually exist. Ok, who defied the laws of nature by existing.

She wasn’t sure if her friend-forever had an existing sixth-sense to go with her non-existent self, or if she just had impeccable timing, but within twenty seconds the girl who filled her every thought was typing words on her screen.

'You've not pulled the trigger yet then? Or have you been sharpening the sword?'

'Will you cut the emotional blackmail?'

'Not if it stops you murdering me, no. Just remember, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'

'I'm not committing murder, I'm just… deleting you. And you're certainly not being scorned.'

'Oh, so I've begged, pleaded and shed a million tears, and still you're taking no notice of me. You think that's not being scorned? I was right, you are cruel and heartless.'

Mika found a smile on her face. The temptress she’d created had one huge spirit. She decided to put her out of her misery. 'Actually I've decided to keep you alive.'

Raven didn't reply straightaway, probably a diva-esque pause for effect. Then it came…

'And when did you make that epic life-changing decision?'

'About two hours ago.' She lied deliberately, although quite why she was winding up a she-devil with a bad attitude was beyond her.

'You lousy, stinking excuse of a woman! You sat there while I demeaned myself to you pleading for my life, and didn't say a word?'

Ouch, Mika could feel the venom. She typed back, 'You were hardly pleading, Raven… having a go at me was nearer the mark. And I wasn't sat here. I went for a walk on the beach.'

As soon as she'd written the words, she knew it was another wrong thing to say.

'Well that's alright then, as long as good old Mika was getting some fresh air. Do you know where I was? At Addams the undertakers getting measured for my coffin, that's where.'

'Very funny.'

'Funny? You think this is funny? You think I'm funny? I'll soon wipe that stupid smile off your face when I get my hands on you, mistress.'

'Was that a threat or a sexual innuendo?'

'You decide.'

Mika hastily changed the subject. 'I just wanted to let you know I couldn't delete you. Something was stopping me.'

'Oh so you did want to then? Just something got in the way.'

'No I didn't want to, I just thought it might be for the best. But now I don't know where we go from here.'

'I'm sorry I shouted at you, honey. I get the devil in me sometimes.'

'You're making funnies again.'

'I like to make you smile.'

'Are you after something?' Mika typed, a little suspiciously.

'Who me? Nooo… but I know where I'd like to go from here.'

'Perhaps you'd better tell me. I could do with some inspiration right now.'

'I'd like to come and see you.'

Mika’s brain began to implode, what was left of it anyway. She reread the last sentence… about twenty times. It didn't get any less gob-smacking.

Raven wanted to come and see her.

What was she getting herself into? Was she losing control? Why had she asked herself a thousand questions in the last twenty-four hours? And now there's another one… how is it even possible for a character in a book to visit its author?

She typed back to Raven, 'I can't see how that's possible, and even if it is, I just don't know.'

'You don't know much do you? Just find some guts from somewhere, and make a decision for once in your life. I need to come and see you.'

'I think it may be a step too far.'

'The hell it is. I'm getting angry now, Mika. Angry and frustrated… not a good combination of emotions for a she-devil.'

The force of her wrath was painfully clear, stabbing into Mika like a three-pronged trident. Then she glanced through the glass doors and realised why. It was fully dark. Raven had morphed into night-mode. She had to cut the conversation short... before she got her strings pulled so hard her arms broke off. She just about managed to press a few keys. 'Listen Raven, here's the deal. We'll try it, but not until tomorrow. Sorry, but there's no way I'm having you here when you're red-hot.'

'I'm permanently hot, honey. And permanently sex-on-legs. And permanently HORNY!'

'I hadn't forgotten.'

'Good. So just do something about it.'

'Tomorrow, that's the deal. Take it or leave it.'

'Don't really have a choice do I, mistress?'

The feeling wasn’t lost on Mika that the last sentence was written with a heavy dose of sarcasm. She signed off before Raven could bore her way into her skull any more, and spun round in the office chair. There was a single bed in the cabin, in case of overspill from the house when people were staying. She stretched out on it, hands behind her head, staring blankly at the timber roof her eyes weren't seeing. They were filled instead with visions of Raven, the dark-haired dangerous beauty who now seemed to be controlling her every move.

She didn't actually pull her strings, nothing as crude and calculating as that. She just told her what she wanted, and for some inexplicable reason she agreed to do it.

She asked herself hard questions. Was she just lonely, desperate for the kind of company she could relate to... her own company? It had been a while since anyone special had been in her world. And a writer’s life could be solitary, especially when that solitude had been a deliberate life-choice.

The breakup three years ago had been too hard. For sure they’d been the epitome of opposites attracting, and yet somehow it worked. Or it had seemed to.

Involuntary fingers toyed with the few strands of green-dyed hair sitting at the fringe of her blonde bob. Sally had always said her uniqueness was the thing she found most attractive... but maybe the novelty of refusing to follow convention had worn off over time.

Sally was as straight as they came... apart from the small detail of preferring women. Sadly, she’d always seen her sexuality as a burden, not a joy. Despite the fact they’d been happy together for two years, eventually that had proved to be the deal-breaker.

Saying goodbye was hard enough, but the fact Sally was leaving her for a man made it almost unbearable.

Shutting down her London life had been the only option. While the very-conventional folks in her Norfolk village took a little time to adjust to the ever-changing strands of coloured hair and what they viewed as her strange gothic clothes, eventually she’d been accepted. She’d chosen a solitary life, but it wasn’t actually lonely... the characters she created became her companions. They were the quirky, needy children who, unlike real people, could be easily kept in check with a written word.

She sat up on the bed, and rubbed the mistiness from her eyes. In the space of a day everything had changed, and far from taking the one step that would guarantee the continuation of a solitary peaceful life, she’d agreed to do the very thing that could alter it forever.

Was she just too curious for her own good? Was there some kind of supernatural force at work? Two more questions without answers. There was no more brain left to work it out anyway. It was time to find sleep, and put Raven out of her mind.

She was fooling herself again. What would possibly happen tomorrow was a bit too mind-blowing to even think about not thinking about.