Perhaps it had been the old wood, settling or something. Then I heard it again. Creak. Shuffle. My shoulders tightened until they were up against my ears. I had to get out of this room without making a sound and then run to the front door. Unless of course someone was creeping up the spiral staircase at the same time, in which case I was royally fucked. As I tiptoed through slaughtered teddies and broken glass the cheery, positive, ‘I Can Sing a Rainbow’ part of my brain tried to suggest it was Lulu coming up the stairs. The instinctive, pre-historic sector that hung out at the base of my skull disagreed, and was telling me to run like hell. I was almost at the doorway when my foot tapped the jewellery box, flipped it upright and the ballerina started spinning to the brittle strains of ‘Fur Elise’. Shit. Heavy boots shook the stairs. No more creeping. I grabbed the doorframe and propelled myself into the hall, glanced back once and almost shat myself. A massive figure hulked at the top of the wooden stairs in black motorcycle leathers and a full face helmet.
