The Stronghold

Panic! In The Town

The girls all moved as one and soon Tom was swamped. He moved over to his own table and started to entertain them with some kind of story.

No soliloquies, I told him.

No promises.

"That was evil," Salt chuckled, taking the empty seat in front of me. I regarded him with a wary eye.

"Are you going to stroke my hand too?" I asked suspiciously. The man sat in the next empty seat at the bar gave me a weird look and Salt burst out laughing, blood red tears of joy forming in his eyes.

"You might want to talk to me in your head," he choked, doubled over with laughter.

I'll get someone to sit on you. What happens then?

"I don't know. I'll probably be sent back to Purgatory early."

Do you have times to go out and stuff?

"We have free hours, yeah."

Free hours? Do you work then?

"Not really, no. We tell people whether they're in heaven or Hell, that kind of work. We're all receptionists, basically."

So what's with the snazzy suit?

"This? Oh, I just like having a bit of style."

And the white and red? Heaven and Hell? Stereotypical much.

"Just matching the chute colours." Salt winked and brushed his hair back off his forehead. "Get us a drink, would you? I'm parched."

Whaddya want?

"Um... Oh, I can't have alcohol, I'm working."

Ha ha. I was nearly arrested and I jumped on a police officer. I'm still drinking.

"You have reason too. Glass of water with ice and a lime."

"Ooh, fancy," I murmured under my breath. "Glass of water with ice and a lime and a gin and tonic over here, mate." I waved my hand and the barman noticed. I repeated my order and he nodded, going away to get them.

Can't dead people not drink or summat?

"I already explained to you... Bloody hell, what's going on over there?" Salt turned his head and pointed in the general direction of where Tom was.

"No idea," I muttered, standing and weaving through the crowd. There were girls all crowding on top of Tom, tugging at his collar, unbuttoning his shirt, batting their eyes at him and ruffling his hair. They were indeed wearing skimpy outfits, looking suspiciously like lap dancers, complete with feathers and creepy masks.

Music began to play and I grinned. I perched on the edge of a nearby booth and sang along.

"Now I'm of consenting age to be forgetting you in a cabaret,

'Somewhere downtown where a burlesque queen may even ask my name,

' As she sheds her skin on stage,

'I'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's P.A.,

'The strip joint veteran sits two away." I pointed to Tom, struggling to control my laughter.

"Smirking between dignified sips of his dignified peach and lime daiquiri,

'And isn't this exactly where you you'd like me,

'I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,

'Praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety,

'Oh, isn't this exactly where you'd like me,

'I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,

'Praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety." I stopped singing, out of breath, drunk on both alcohol and laughter. Tom seemed slightly confused but had a growing smile on his face, eyes twinkling.

All of a sudden the police marched in and the girls scattered. Tom scrambled upright and I froze. Salt cursed next to my ear and then vanished with a soft pop.

"Everybody freeze!" one officer roared, gun raised. Other pistols were aimed and Tom ducked beneath the table, beckoning to me. I slid across the floor on my knees and joined him, thankful for my short height at times where tables were small.

"We need to get out of here," Tom said in a low voice.

"Agreed," I whispered back. "Follow my lead."

I fell to my stomach and propelled myself across the wooden floor like a beached dolphin on butter. I slid beneath the tables and slithered between people's legs, rolling out onto the pavement and springing to my feet.

I crouched and saw Tom peering at me with a terrified look.

How do you expect me to copy what you just did when I'm not blessed with superspeed?!

Be magical and use your ice to make a slidey surface.

Slidey?!

Get on with it.

I raised my eyebrows at him and he shook his head. Brushing back his hair and wriggling his shoulders he shot across the floor, catapulting out the door and straight into my legs. I went crashing down but he kept on sliding, yelling for help. He only managed to stop when my knee rammed up into his crotch otherwise my face would have been skinned.

"We need to run," I said, forcing him off me and sending him sprawling across the pavement.

"I can't run like this," Tom moaned in a considerably higher voice than usual.

"Then I'll drag you," I snapped, gripping his hand and yanking him upright. He whimpered and I rolled my eyes, smiling to myself as he hit a lamppost. Wailing and holding his nose Tom scrambled to his feet and actually ran, matching my stride easily for someone of his height.

Police sirens howled in the distance and I increased my speed, hearing Tom groan as he was forced to stretch his skinny jeans.

"Come on," I teased, running backwards, "those girls were moving you more than this! Your jeans can take this if they can take that lot, so speed up, Thomas."

"No-o-o..."

"I'll call the girls back and then you'll end up just like Brendon Urie at the end of the 'But It's Better If You Do' music video," I said sternly. Tom didn't reply and I sped up, racing ahead.

"Wait for me!" he cried suddenly, feet slipping on the ground and trainers pushing off the floor with a slapping noise. I laughed and slowed just a little, enough so that he could run at my pace.