frankie [episodes 1-3]

-10-

I peer out of the passenger window as Rebecca navigates the hearse through the traffic clogged London roads. My heart is thudding against my ribcage and I will it to calm down. I remember Jared's words last week; don't get scared, get angry.

And I should be angry. I think of everything that has happened, everything I've found out these past few days: Mr Redwood, the grave robbing, the murders, the wax.

The Curator is a monster, and he must be destroyed.

He must be destroyed the voices in my head agree.

"Why do we travel around London in a car?!" snaps Jared suddenly from the back. "The traffic is ridiculous, it's nearly four pm. The girls will be arriving soon..."

"Because," says Rebecca, "we have a shit load of weapons which may arouse some concerns were we to brandish them around on the public transport network..."

Jared's non-committal grumbling mixes with the lull of the engine and Carter flicking through the tracing paper pages of his demon book. I look over my shoulder at the two of them, crouched in the back of the vehicle against the tinted windows. My stomach writhes nervously. I think about the mirror in my dream; the way it hardened under the layers of spurted wax. I think about Eleanor's dead eyes. I think about the screams.

I swallow hard.

"So...how exactly are we going to...kill this demon?!"

Carter looks up, a glint of excitement behind his eyes.

"The particular species is called a Cera Daemonium – which literally translates as wax demon."

"Inspired..." mutters Rebecca.

"Quite!" says Carter, "And Frankie, before, when you said it seemed that his body was producing hot wax you were completely correct. His body is constantly creating it. But to do that, his body temperature needs to remain at a constant heat – the precise heat that wax melts in fact. To get any cooler and the wax would harden – killing him. To get any hotter and..."

"He would melt," I say.

Carter beams.

"Yes! Exactly!"

"So, we need to either freeze him, or melt him?!" I say.

Carter nods vigorously. My eyes flick over to Jared who is looked perplexed.

"How the hell are we going to do that?"

Rebecca pulls into a carpark close to the South Bank, the museum a short distance away.

"Ah yes, well, that could be challenging," says Carter. "But I'm sure you'll figure something out."

***

Ten minutes later we're lurking under the grey sky about ten metres away from the door to the wax museum. A sign reading Closed for tourists, models come in through the side entrance is pinned to the window. Carter decided to stay in the hearse, so it's just me, Rebecca and Jared.

Jared carries his black bag full of weapons over his shoulder. He turns to us.

"Plan?"

Rebecca inflates her cheeks then blows out, a strand of her pale hair momentarily hovering before her face.

"We could pretend to be models?" she says.

I feel a jolt of panic. The thought of pretending to be a model oddly terrifies me more than the thought of facing that red, pulsating, waxy demon.

"Speak for yourself," I snap.

Jared nods.

"She's right, Becs,"

I feel a jolt of hurt as the London breeze blows in my face. I know I'm hideous but Jared doesn't have to agree with me. I open my mouth to retort.

"I'll never get in," he says before I have chance to, causing me to close my mouth again. "All the potential cadavers Mr Redwood looked at were young girls. All the models at the wax event that Eleanor was part of were girls. He's not after guys."

Rebecca bites her lip.

"Well...we could sneak in the side door then?" she says.

We all share a look then nod.

"That works," says Jared.

We edge our way around the building. There's a queue of girls already forming outside the side entrance – girls that will become wax instalments if we fail in taking down the Curator. There's a male security guard at the front of the line, admitting the models inside.

"I'll get in the queue," says Rebecca, "pretend I'm a model. Distract the guy at the front. You two can sneak in behind me."

I look her up and down, taking in her Epica T-shirt, ripped jeans and doc martins. She folds her arms and her eyes lock onto mine.

"What?!"

"I..it's just..."

It's not that Rebecca is hideous or anything. It's just...

"Well, I'm not sure he'll believe you're a model...you don't exactly look the part, that's all."

She rolls her eyes.

"These sickos are recruiting girls to make wax models out of and you're worried I'm not pretty enough?" she grins. "I'll get in – don't you worry. Now go lurk close to the entrance out of sight until I get to the front."

And with that she bounds off to the end of the queue. I look up at Jared.

"I didn't mean...I mean...I don't think Rebecca isn't pretty..." I say.

Jared shakes his head, something behind his eyes indicating that I've completely missed the point.

"Rebecca really doesn't care what you - or anyone - thinks, Frankie," he says. "She'll get in. Come on."

We walk past Rebecca and the queue, lingering down the alley past the entrance behind the guy on the door. We wait anxiously as the line slowly gets shorter.

If we don't get in these girls are going to die.

Then Rebecca reaches the front.

I find myself holding my breath as I watch.

She starts talking and steps out slightly, forcing the man to move out of the doorway. As she's speaking she catches my eye. I look up at Jared and, my heart thumping fast, we both slip behind them through the open door. Rebecca follows us moments later into the dingy entrance hall of the wax museum.

She smiles but there's a ferocity behind her eyes.

"There, easy!" she says, "Now - Let's go find the Curator. We have a demon to kill."