“Irish Dancing? Isn't that the rubbish where they keep their arms straight by their sides?" Nick peered myopically at the bulletin board. The poster actually showed a line of girls high kicking in unison, ponytails flying and, yes, arms held rigidly at their sides.

I shook my head, more to myself than anything. It really was a mystery to me how he'd made it to college with so little going on between his ears.

"Looks like it", I replied. I wasn't one to mock the afflicted, and certainly not Nick. He’d been a good mate and stood by me through all the years we’d spent together at school, when pretty much everyone else had given me fuck off vibes. That and there was something about him… I don't know, he was comfortable to be with, I suppose.

"They're doing auditions this afternoon,” he continued. “Fancy going for a laugh?"

I shrugged. Generally I wasn’t one for taking the piss out of someone, especially not for something they couldn't help, but if they chose to make an arse of themselves, then they were fair game.

"Yeah, why not? Has to be better than hanging out down the mall."

Summervale had to be about the deadest place in the universe, and all the more in the middle of winter. One of those back of beyond sleepy villages where the main source of entertainment comprised watching the traffic lights change.

Even the mall was a sad joke. It was more properly an arcade, and barely that, but the locals liked to big it up a bit. It consisted of a mini supermarket, a newsagent, a hairdressers, a bookies and a dodgy shop with blacked out windows and occult symbols over the door. No-one ever seemed to go in our out of it, and it always seemed to be locked up. It was a constant source of speculation exactly what went on inside, or why whoever leased it continued to do so.

There was an alternative to Deadsville of course. If you were prepared to put up with the expense and inconvenience of a thirty-minute bus ride, civilization could be reached. However, since the last bus home left the metropolis at nine, there wasn’t a lot to do with the available time, and pretty much the only viable way of taking in a movie or anything similar involved some degree of independent transport.

For those of us still in our second decade of life, insurance on a car or even an asthmatic motor scooter was well beyond affordable, and the thought of resorting to the old dad taxi was so humiliating that most of us reluctantly accepted that the joys of the city were reserved for weekends and the very rare occasion when someone was prepared sacrifice their reputation and ask a parent.

Which meant that, most of the time, hanging out at the mall was about the only thing anyone in our generation could do that might count as a pastime, unless you happened to be one of those people who signed up for after school activities, but that was just capitulating to the enemy's will, and a source of serious anti-kudos.

Final period came and went, which for me meant an hour of redox titrations and the associated maths. It was hard work, and I didn't get particularly close to the expected answer, meaning my teacher invited me back to try again in my own time. So not the greatest way to end a week, which meant I wasn't in the best of moods when I caught up with Nick outside the sports hall.

The sounds from the other side of the door promised some decent sport though. It sounded like they'd found a herd of a particularly uncoordinated pachyderms, but then you don’t expect major dancing talent in a small town like ours? We slipped through the doors and found a couple of seats halfway up the spectator's stand.

It was truly epic. Either the dancing was a lot harder than it looked, or something had induced seizures in over half the tryouts. Nick and I were both laughing hard by the time they decided to take a break, which of course meant that our good humour suddenly became very much apparent.

"Something you'd like to share with us all Mr Geller?"

"Nah, I'm good," I said, trying to control myself, which was not all that easy with a giggling buffoon sitting next to me.

"Oh, but I insist Mr Geller. Your friend seems to think it's exceedingly funny. Or perhaps you'd prefer to explain it all to the principal?"

That wasn't a prospect I particularly relished, so I gave the matter some quick thought.

"I was just telling Nick here that archeologists have just discovered a long lost second instruction manual for Irish dancing, Miss Ephermeris."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Yeah, it's entitled, 'What To Do With Your Arms.'"

Nick broke out in renewed laughter, which didn't help the situation much as nobody else joined him. I'm pretty sure he didn't understand the joke either, whereas everyone else got it but didn’t appreciate it. Everyone except Clarrisa, maybe, but then she had a tendency to be pissed off on principle.

Clarrisa was the archetypal air-headed sex goddess. Essentially, while everyone else had been standing in line for intelligence or talent, she'd used up all her credit on this great rack and a gorgeous bod – Nick’s words rather than mine, but I’ll admit she did look quite stunning.

She talked pretty much all the time, and pretty much all the time what came out of her mouth was vacuous drivel relating to the latest string of non-events in her life. One of the less charitable among the student body, a geeky girl named Laurel who sat with us in the cafeteria on occasions, had once suggested that she might be incapable of learning because any new ideas had no chance of making it in against the torrential and almost constant flow of crap coming out. Somewhat uncharacteristically Clarrisa wasn't speaking right now.

Nick's laughter eventually petered out as even he became aware of the stony silence. Idly I wondered what would happen if Nick and Clarrisa ever got together, whether their brains – such as they were – would constitute a critical anti-mass and form an immense, all-consuming nothingness into which everything would fall, the kind of deep, dark hole I would have loved to crawl into just then.

"Perhaps you'd care to join us on stage, Mr Geller, since you seem to know so much about this particular art form," Miss Ephermeris said with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"No thank you Miss, I'm good."

"But I insist, Mr Geller.” Never a good sign when a teacher uses your name so often in such a short span of time. “I still haven't decided whether or not to involve the principal."

"But Miss, this is kind of a girl thing, isn't it?"

"Not at all Mr Geller. I’m sure you’ve heard of Riverdance, and Michael Flatley who is the star of the show. Now come and join us before I get annoyed."

There wasn't much sense in arguing. If she made enough of a complaint, it might end up on my permanent record, which in turn would affect my chance of getting into the university of my choice. It would be vindictive of her to take things that far, but with the performance of tangled legs and tripping ups Nick and I had witnessed, she might well have been sufficiently pissed off to act rashly.

I climbed up on stage and she gave me a critical once over.

"You'll need shoes," she said. Irish dancing was a sort of tap dancing, so that made sense. "What size are you?"

"Eight and a half." I'd always had little feet and the extra half size was important for my ego.

"That'll be an eight then, Clarrisa if you wouldn’t mind. And those jeans are too baggy. You need something tight on your legs to facilitate freedom of movement."

Clarrisa handed me a pair of shoes like the ones she was wearing, and some thick, white tights. So that was it. They wouldn't complain to the principal as long as they managed to get a little revenge by humiliating me.

"I thought you said guys did this too," I said.

"They do Mr Geller, it's just that I don't have any male costumes. Those tights are going to show off something I doubt any of us are going to want to look at, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to go all the way. Clarrisa, I think we have a uniform in his size?"

So I was completely stitched up. I’m not sure how Nick escaped, except he does have this winning smile and eyes that people – women especially – tend to feel sorry for. The girls made a tight circle around me, facing outward, and I wasn't given much choice but to change, not if I didn't want black marks against my name.

It didn’t bother me much. My reputation was already in close vicinity to the rocky bottom, and would only have dug its way deeper if I hadn’t made some token protest to what I was being asked to do. Either that or if I’d been foolish enough to admit it was something that secretly excited me.

It was a weird but oddly pleasurable experience. I'd had to discard all of my clothes, including my boxer shorts – not so difficult to slip off modestly while wearing a dress – because they'd left me looking like I was wearing a nappy under the skirt. The dress itself was light and short, with long, loose fitting sleeves and tight cuffs. The skirt had loose pleats in it and fell to about mid-thigh, which left most of my legs on show, clad in a pair of thick white tights – thick enough to hide the hairs underneath. It turned out I had a pair of legs that were just a little too spectacular for a guy, especially with my small feet in a pair of heels, rounding off my calves. The shoes probably only had about an inch and a half or two inches in the heel, but when you're used to no heel at all, it made a significant difference, and I felt like I was perched up on my toes.

"There, don't you look pretty?" Miss Ephemeris said when I was finally revealed to the world. A giggle rolled round the auditorium. The laughter was sort of an automatic reaction to the sight of a boy in a dress, though the looks I was getting from some of the girls – the barrelinas especially – seemed more angry or envious rather than amused.

Barrelina was a term Nick and I had come up with for the more equatorially challenged dancer wannabees. Well alright, I’d coined the phrase, but he’d found it funny and made copious use of it after I’d introduced it to him. I think I actually looked better than more than half the girls sharing the stage with me.

Nick, meanwhile, was laughing himself silly. It seemed he was to be the chosen vessel by which my humiliation would be spread.

"Now let’s see you dance” Miss Ephemeris said. “Follow my movements, and remember, don't move your arms."

I watched her feet as they tapped out a short and easy beat, then tried to copy it. The first time I nearly twisted my ankle, promoting another round of giggles, but I wasn’t going to let this best me. I regained my poise and tried again, this time managing passably well.

She tried another sequence, which I also followed.

Frowning, she tried something more complicated.

Smiling, I copied it perfectly.

The contest went on for some minutes ending with a longish sequence where I started copying her a bar after she started. Not only did I match her perfectly, but my own sequence tapped out a delightful counterpoint to hers.

I was beginning to enjoy myself. The tights felt amazing against my legs, the skirt kept brushing against my thighs sending shivers through me. Quite apart from the physical sensation though, I knew that the easiest way of beating a humiliation was to excel at whatever task your adversary chose for your failure. Right now no-one was laughing at me.

I pulled my hair out of my eyes for the umpteenth time, and felt small soft hands gather it from behind me and put it into a pony tail.

I turned and smiled my thanks at whoever had done it, and received an odd look in return.

Miss Ephermeris turned and looked up into the benches. I followed her gaze and caught sight of a shadowy figure at the back. A man. He was leaning forward in his seat, but apart from that, I couldn't make out any details. He nodded.

"Try and keep up," Miss Ephermeris said, and started to dance.

Once again, I joined in after one bar. This time the dance took us across the stage and included a series of jumps and kicks.

Now I've tried to keep in shape, but I'm still no more limber than most guys, or at least I thought I wasn't. I fell into the rhythm and flow of the dance and let the music take me. I doubt I jumped as high, nor did I manage to extend my legs so much, but I didn't disgrace myself.

The sequence lasted about fifteen minutes, after which Miss Ephermeris was breathing hard, and I was just breathing. She turned to look up at the back of the hall, and I followed her gaze, just in time to see the shadowy man leaving.

"Okay girls," she said. "Tryouts are over. I'll post the names tomorrow. Clarrisa, give Mitch back his clothes. Come with me Mitch, you can use the staff changing room."

#

"Dude you were awesome," Nick said when I rejoined him. "Also, I don't want to worry you, but you looked pretty good in that outfit. If I can't get a date for the Christmas dance at the end of term, would you, you know?"

"Yeah, whatever." I wasn’t really thinking. My mind was trying to make sense of what Miss Ephermeris had told me.

"You can leave the things on the bench when you're done." She'd tossed me a fresh towel and pointed at the shower.

"Miss, who was that guy at the back?"

"Who? Oh, he owns the shop in the arcade.” She didn't need to tell me which shop. “Look out for him next time you're there."

"I didn't really see him, Miss."

"I wouldn't worry about it; he saw you. You were... exceptional out there today Mitch. I'm afraid this isn't over for you."

What did that mean? Was he some national dancing coach? Was he going to offer me some sort of scholarship to become the first ever cross dressing Irish dance sensation in history? It was all a bit freaky, as was the memory of wearing those clothes. It had felt so amazingly good, so amazingly right, to be wearing a dress.

Clarrisa was waiting for us outside the school gates.

“I don't know what kind of freak you are Mitchel Geller, but if your performance this afternoon has cost me my place on the dancing team, you are going to wish you had never been born.”

“Why, what will you do, talk to me every day?”

“Huh, you wish.”

Honestly, I waste my best jokes on the stupidest people. Not even Nick picked up on it.

I needn't have worried. When the list was posted the next day, Clarrisa's name was third from the top. If she wanted to make an issue about not being first, she'd have to take that elsewhere. Much to my relief, I didn't appear anywhere on the sheet – that would have been all but impossible to live down.

Clarrisa gave me a dirty look anyway, as though suggesting I'd had a narrow escape. I raised my eyebrows back at her, challenging her to make something of it, which she didn't.

Life returned back to normal very quickly after that. Nick chose not to spread my embarrassment round the college, which was pretty cool of him, and showed that I had pretty good taste in guys – friends I mean; sheesh where did that come from? None of the girls said anything either, but then I always had the option of telling everyone how great a job they'd made of the trials, and how I’d looked better than most of them in a dress. That would have been more humiliating for them. I did avoided the gym when the Irish dancers were rehearsing, not that I had much of a choice since the place was off limits to the rest of the student body at those times. Otherwise nothing changed.

Until the following weekend.

#

Saturday morning boredom avoidance for the more fiscally challenged among us generally involved a trip to the mall – or arcade if you want to be pedantic, but I think I've said this already. As per my usual habit, I dropped by Nick's and we walked in together. We didn't have anything much in mind other than the usual mooching around looking for something to laugh at, so I certainly wasn't expecting it when the door to the mystery shop swung open and an odd looking guy in a tweed jacket stepped out in front of me.

"You're here at last," he said. "Where the hell have you been? Come in."

He turned to step back into the shop, but paused, holding the door for me.

It took me a second or two to recover, but I managed it.

"Yes, what, and hell no," I said after a moment's thought.

"What?"

"Yes I'm here – don't know about the at last though. What do you mean, 'Where the hell have you been?' And hell no, I'm not going into a blacked out shop with a creepy dude like you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Okay, if you like."

"What?"

"What?"

"If I like what?"

"You begged my pardon. I thought I'd be nice."

"Look, will you just come in?"

"Whatever makes you think I'd do that? I mean I don't even know who you are."

"What?"

"You say that a lot, don't you?"

"You mean to tell me Miss Ephermeris didn't say anything to you?"

"She said something after the practice, but I didn't think it was important."

"Why ever not?"

"Because... Look I don't particularly want to talk about it, okay?"

He adjusted his glasses. "I suppose that's your prerogative. I really do need to speak with you though."

"Go on then."

"No, I mean in private."

I folded my arms and stared at him, somewhat defiantly.

"Do I really seem like that much of a threat to you?" he asked.

I looked him up and down. He couldn't have weighed much more than nine or ten stone – that's a hundred and thirty pounds or sixty kilos for those who don't speak old or metric – and he had a seriously bookish air about him, by which I mean he was probably happier reading them than carrying them.

"I suppose not," I admitted.

"Then give me ten minutes of your time, or... or five even. If I haven't said anything to grab your interest by then I'll..."

"You'll what?"

"Then I won't disturb you again."

I glanced at Nick who shrugged. No help there. I shrugged as well. "Okay, five minutes. I'll catch up with you in the mall Nick."

It wasn't as if I had anything better to do. Besides, like everyone else in Summervale, I was intrigued to know what he kept in his shop.

#

The place was as strange and uninviting on the inside as it was on the outside. It was dark, with only a few dim lamps providing illumination, and there were books everywhere. Dust lay on everything, nearly a quarter inch thick in places, and apart from that were the books.

Yes I know I've already mentioned them, but there seemed to be more books than space. Every wall had shelves piled to the ceiling with them. Every surface, chairs included, was covered with them, and with all available furniture in use, the remainder were piled in stacks on the floor.

They were old, all of them hard covered, and most with leather, but with all the dust, it was impossible to read the titles.

"So what is this place? It doesn't look like you sell much."

"It's not a shop."

"It's in a shopping arcade."

"Location is important."

"Whatever. You still haven't answered my question, and you're running out of your five minutes." needless to say, my patience was running thin.

"Step in here and I'll answer all your questions."

He opened a door and indicated a staircase leading down into a basement room that was even darker than the rest of his musty domain. I couldn't see any harm in it, so I stepped through.

The door shut behind me and I heard the snick of a key turning in a lock. I turned and tried the door, but it wouldn't open.

"Hey!" I shouted, feeling kind of stupid.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't afford the time to do this any other way."

The voice reached me through a sort of PA system. A light came on illuminating the centre of the room, and dead centre of the circle of illumination was a sort of tailor's dummy dressed in a rich green, velvet dress with a short skirt and puffed, off-white sleeves.

"What the hell it's this?" I demanded.

"It's your, er, your uniform. Look, I know this is a little irregular, but it can't be helped. Now, er, put it on... please."

"You want me to wear that?"

"Er yes, because in a little over a minute a, er, a vampire is going to attack you "

"A vampire?"

"Yes."

"A genuine undead, blood sucking vampire?"

"Yes "

"With a black cape I suppose."

"No, er, they don't actually wear those these days – that was more of a period thing. You have about fifty seconds, can I suggest you get changed, and quickly."

"Exactly how is my wearing that going to make any difference to my ability to fight a vam... No, listen to what you're saying. There's no such thing as..."

"Vampires? Well that's where you're wrong. They do exist, and there's only one way you're likely to defeat one."

"By putting on a dress and dancing at it?" This was beyond ridiculous.

"Er, well very nearly. Haven't you ever wondered why Irish dancing is done with the hands by the side?"

"Because they lost the instructions that tell you what to do with your arms?" Twice in a week I got use that joke. Mind you it hadn't worked out so well the first time, so I'm not sure why I bothered.

"Look, we don't have time for your facetious nonsense. Vampires are extremely fast and really strong. If you tried to hit one with your fist, it'd grab it and yank your arm off."

"Yeah and beat me to death with the soggy end. This is bullshit."

"Well let's hope you remember this, er, this bullshit in about twenty seconds. The only way to beat them is with your legs. The footwork from the dance confuses them, and gives you an occasional opportunity to kick through their defences... most of the time."

"Go on then. Tell me why I need to wear a fucking dress. Why can't I just do the dance of death as I am?"

"Freedom of movement. Trousers slow you down, just a fraction, but anything is too much of a disadvantage. It wasn't an issue hundreds of years ago, of course, because men wore doublet and hose, but in recent years we've had to rely more on women to do the fighting, most likely because men refuse to wear the uniform. You're going to have to do without this time, though. Time's about up, so do the best you can as you are. For heaven's sake keep your arms down and rely on your dancing."

"This is stupid."

"Is it really? Tell me again in a couple of minutes."

A feral growl came from the darkness, and a creature of more or less human proportions, but with a hideously disfigured face emerged into the light.

How to describe the feeling of facing a truly wild and dangerous creature for the first time. I've read stuff about how your bowels loosen, about how it's supposed to prepare you for a fight or flight response, but reading about it doesn't prepare you for the real thing.

I'm not sure what affected me the most, whether it was the almost subsonic growl, or the fixated intensity of its gaze, or maybe the unnatural yellow of its eyes, blazing with some inner fire. Perhaps it was all of them in equal measure. All I knew was that it turned my insides into jelly, and runny jelly at that. I barely had strength enough to stand, let alone squeeze my butt cheeks together.

Shitting yourself has to be one of the most ignominious final acts imaginable. The sudden stench, the feel of your own faeces dribbling down the inside of your trousers. Sorry if that's too much information, but without it you wouldn't even come close to understanding the way I felt in that moment.

"For Gods's sake man, move!"

Whatever else I might think or say about the odd little man, he saved me then. Somehow the irritation I felt towards him intensified his words and helped them cut through the debilitating malaise hanging over me. I looked around for a way out, but the only one was the door I had come through, up the stairs behind me. In a desperate hope that perhaps it might have been unlocked, I ran towards it.

Somehow, the creature cut me off before I could reach it. I barely saw the blur of its movement, but it was there, standing at the foot of the stairs before I had taken two steps.

I crouched into a wrestler's stance, the only fighting style I had even half a hope of doing well. A grin spread across the thing's face, unnerving me a little, then a lot as it revealed a pair of canines that would have been more at home in a lion's mouth.

"No you idiot. Dance!"

My mind's response to the irritating voice was to bring to mind snippets of what I had been told earlier. Not dancing but a sort of marital art. Arms straight because these things were so fast they'd grab hold and pull them off you otherwise. It felt so stupid, but nothing else I knew had a hope of improving my chances of surviving here. I stood to attention and started the routine I'd run through during the trials earlier in the week.

The creature's smile slipped when it saw me stand, and it even shied away as I started moving my legs.

It was well advised to do so too. My first kick sent a gob of my most recent embarrassment flying across the room. It landed not far from my adversary, who wrinkled his nose at it in an almost human way.

I continued the routine, pretty much exactly as it had been shown to me. I don't have an eidetic memory, but I have strong chain memory – one thought leading to the next and so on. Remembering music and the lines of a poem or play have always been easy for me, because as soon as I recall the first part, my mind goes unbidden to whatever comes next.

I could feel the legs of my trousers flapping about, restricting the movement of my legs. I almost lost the rhythm once or twice, and I certainly didn't have much strength in the kicks. What I did have though was an unexpected weapon in the filth dribbling down the inside of my trousers legs, and I did manage to alter my moves just enough to improve my aim. Before long I had the creature cowering against the wall.

"The shoes," the irritating voice interrupted. "Use the shoes."

I glanced back at the mannequin. I hadn't noticed the shoes earlier, but there they were, at the foot of the display. They had high, spiked heels, perhaps as much as four or five inches, and some sort of thin strap designed to hold them rather securely in place. Buckling the straps wouldn't be a short job.

"You want me to put them on?" I yelled at my unseen tutor.

"No you dunce, use them as weapons. A heel through the heart should do the trick."

"I thought you said not to use my arms?" I yelled.

"Well ordinarily, yes, but that would be for when you don't have a vampire crouching in the corner, covered in..."

"Okay, I get it."

I managed a couple of pirouettes and ducked down to pick up my two weapons. They felt awkward and uncomfortable in my hands, but I approached my target even so, flinging the last of my revolting ammunition as I approached.

I was really going to do this. For the best part of twenty years I'd made it through life without knowingly killing anything bigger than a cockroach, and here I was about to stick a spiked heel into someone's chest.

I tried telling myself that he – or perhaps it – would have killed me had I not chanced upon a method for defending myself, that it would try again if I didn't do something and soon. It wasn't enough for me to like what I was about to do, but it was enough to persuade me I could go through with it.

The monster was beginning to rally. I danced my way swiftly across the room to it, reaching it just as it turned towards me. My arrival came as a shock to the creature, and I took the fraction of a second advantage it gave me and jammed one of the new shoes, heel first, into its chest.

The expression on its face had been intended to terrify, and it might have worked had it not changed so rapidly into one of shock and surprise, just moments before the whole creature exploded into dust.

#

The sound of a key turning in the lock signalled an end to my ordeal. I turned towards the door as Mr Annoying stepped through it.

"Good God, whatever have you been eating?"

"What?"

"Erm, excrement doesn't usually smell this, er, fragrant?"

"Look, shut the fuck up, and tell me where I can clean this shit off me?"

"I would very much prefer it if you would use slightly less colourful language, at least in my presence. There's a changing room and showers just through there." He waved a hand vaguely at the door he'd come through.

I stomped past him, both showing something of my outrage and adding in a small way to the mess around me. This wouldn't be pleasant to clear up, and it pleased me to make it less so.

The changing room was opposite at the top of the stairs, and the shower was in a room beyond that. I kicked off my shoes, dropped the contents of my pockets - keys, phone and wallet - on a bench and walked in fully clothed, only stripping to my skin once I was standing in a stream of hot water.

"If, if you'll pass me your clothes, I'll do something with them," he offered from outside the shower.

They needed more attention than I could give them in the shower, so I threw them out to him. Then, keeping my back to the door, I gave myself as thorough a washing as I could manage, even lathering up my hair a couple of times just in case any of my earlier manoeuvres had landed anything up there. It felt and smelt good after the shit-storm. Maybe a little more floral than I was used to, but honestly I didn't care at that stage; I just wanted to be clean.

Did I mention how long my hair was? Long enough to be a hassle when I washed it. It took a lot of effort to get clean and a lot of time to get dry afterwards. It seemed that the longer I grew it, the more delicate it became too. Vigorous towelling is a sure path to split ends, but the only alternative is wash it and wait. Once I'd finally convinced myself that I no longer stank, at least of what remained of yesterday's lunch, I stepped out of the shower in search of a towel. One had been left for me where I'd left the contents of my wallet, and I made good use of it, wrapping my hair in it once I'd dried myself off. There was a dressing gown hanging on a nearby hook as well. It was white and fluffy, but any port in a storm at this stage.

I followed the sound of spraying water to find my host/kidnapper hosing down the arena. It still stank, but it was improving. The dress was gone from the middle of the room, I suspected into the same washing machine as my own gear.

"You do this a lot?" I asked.

"Not for some time, and it's usually just the dusty remains of these creatures rather than excrement, but I suppose I do, yes."

"So why d'you let that thing loose when you knew I wasn't ready?"

"I didn't."

"Now hang on a minute..."

"I don't release them. They come through on their own. In recent weeks I haven’t seen so many, probably because I keep this room locked and empty, and since they can't go back the way they come, it's a one way trip to starvation. They can smell through the rift though, so they come when there's fresh blood in here. When that happens, I have a little warning of their coming; perhaps a minute, but that's all."

"What are they, and where do they come from?"

"Er, well, for want of better words, they are demons, and they come from hell."

"No freaking way!"

"Er, yes, er yes, er freaking way. You have to understand that this has been going on for a very long while.

"I, I don't want to go into too much depth, but they were originally encountered during the Dark Ages, and given that it was a time of intense religious superstition, they were called demons, which meant they had to come from hell. The names stuck for many centuries, then in the Middle Ages a new concept came from Eastern Europe of blood sucking, human like creatures called upir, from which word in about the eighteenth or nineteenth century, we developed the current term of vampire. They're probably the creatures that gave rise to the original vampire myth because they can take on the form of a human, and usually one with considerable charisma, they can't survive in sunlight, they feed off usually human blood, and they infect the corpses they leave behind so that they later turn into vampires themselves."

"Wow."

"Yes I know, remarkable aren't they."

"No, I was just thinking."

"What?"

"Before you go into depth about something, please give me a little warning so I can remember to bring a book."

"Why don't you get dressed?"

"You've washed my clothes already? Where are they?"

"Oh no, they were past saving. I threw them out, but you'll find a wardrobe back in the changing room. There'll be something suitable in there."

Filled with sudden misgiving, I made my way back into the changing room. The wardrobe was where he'd said, and it opened to reveal...

"No freaking way. What the hell is this?"

The sound of hosing shut off, and a moment later he was in the doorway.

"What's the problem?"

"What's the problem? What's the freaking problem? This," I waved a hand at the cupboard, "is the freaking problem!"

On the plus side, there was a selection of colours and patterns, but to counter that, there appeared to be only one style. It involved a familiar short, pleated skirt and long loose sleeves with tight cuffs.

"Yes, well we, we did talk about this if you remember."

"We talked about it, or rather you did. We didn't agree to anything. You honestly expect me to go around wearing something like that?"

"Yes I do, because I assume that you and your friends would like to carry on living beyond the end of this week."

That shut me up. He took a moment to breathe, then he started up again.

"This shop lies on a convergence of ley lines..."

"Oh, come on!"

"Ley lines are as real as vampires, and I assume you believe in them now?"

The man had a point. I decided to shut up and listen.

"Ley lines are lines of mystical force – no, don't scoff. Some people are sensitive to them, and there are ways, albeit unreliable ones, of detecting them. Wherever there's a convergence, you find an increase in mystical activity.?

"Increase in the number of nutjobs ready to believe in nonsense, you mean?"

"Well, yes there is that, but just because there are a number of, er, nutjobs as you say, doesn't mean that what they believe doesn't exist. They may have a distorted view of reality, but most mythology is based on something factual, even if it doesn't live up to the hype."

"So what are ley lines really?"

"My, a genuine question at last. Please excuse me if I sit down, I fear the shock may be too much."

"You're not very good at sarcasm you know?"

"Yes, well, never mind. Nobody's really sure what ley lines are. We do know they drift about a little, and we do know that they can be pinned in special places." He indicated the shop around him.

"A convergence?" I suggested.

"Yes, precisely. Now, every now and again, a convergence will snag a large enough number of lines that it will begin to attract more free ones."

"Like a black hole."

"What?"

"The more stuff falls into it, the more gravity it has, and the more stuff it attracts."

"Er, yes. Except that black holes keep on getting bigger. There is a critical amount of ley line energy though. As you approach it, you find weaknesses forming between worlds, and sometimes if there's something on the other side, it can break through into our world. When you reach the critical level of energy, a large tear appears in the fabric of space, usually followed by some catastrophe."

"Such as?"

"Nothing you'll have read about in the news."

"How do you know?"

"You've heard of Chernobyl I assume?"

"Nuclear reactor in the Ukraine went kaplooey."

"Very succinct. Except it was caused by a giant worm crossing into our world. What was reported in the press was a sanitised version because they don't want us to worry about such mundane trivia as giant, potentially world ending monsters. The worm was killed by the meltdown, but it left behind a few younger and smaller versions of itself, which the locals are still fighting to contain. How about Krakatoa, have you heard of that?"

"Wasn't that in a film our something?"

"It was, though I'm a little surprised you've heard of it. Krakatoa east of Java came out over fifty years ago. The actual event that inspired the film, which was the explained as a volcanic eruption in 1883, was caused by a sea dragon crossing into our world. It survived long enough to cause a considerable amount of damage before it was tracked and killed."

"So how do you know about these things? I mean, if they don't make it into the papers..."

"I work for an organisation that keeps an eye out for the unexpected. We have some people in important positions, so we have access to unexpurgated reports. One of them indicates we're looking at a convergence event around here that's due on or about the 25th."

"Christmas day!?"

"Well I prefer to think of it as the Winter Solstice, but yes, I suppose so."

"So what's coming through?"

"Ah. Well no one knows."

"I don't understand. How can you not know? You seem to know so much about everything else, how can you not know about that?"

"Because it's never gone that far with the vampire world."

"I thought you said they came from hell."

"And I thought you were paying attention. We only call it hell because it was so named in the Dark Ages."

"So not the hell where bad people go when they die?"

"Well, who knows? We have no idea where people go when they die, so it could be there."

"That was a joke, right?"

"That was, indeed, a joke." He adjusted his glasses, more through habit than need. "And really we don't know all that much.

"All we know about ley lines is that they consist of a type of energy that seems to affect the fabric of space-time. Enough energy in one place and a portal of sorts is formed – call it a wormhole if it makes you feel better. Too much energy and the portal flares up to enormous size, but only briefly; generally just long enough to pull through something significant from the other side. It then collapses, all the energy is dissipated, and the whole process starts over.

"All we know about the portals is that they seem to connect to different worlds. We have no information about those worlds because the portals seem to be one way only, which is to say towards us, not the other way around. This may be fortuitous, or, or even by design. Imagine if a portal were to connect with empty space. Without some sort of, er, of non-return mechanism, so to speak, all the atmosphere would be sucked off our planet in a matter of hours, or at most days."

"You make it sound like they're artificial."

"They may be, we simply don't know. All we know is that when a portal forms, usually there is some sort of life form on the other side that is drawn to it and tries to come through. As in the case of the Chernobyl Worm and the Krakatoan Dragon, the creature could only cross when the portal went critical, but on occasions, as with the, er, the vampires, sometimes creatures are drawn to the portals which are small enough to fit through even when they’re not fully formed.

"Whether all these things come from different worlds or different parts of just one world, we don't know. Whether the worlds are a part of our universe or some other, we don't know. Whether other planets have conjunctions that draw creatures from our own world, we don't know. All we do know is that sometimes things make it into our world, and for the safety of all, we have to take measures. This has been happening for a very long time, and some of the solutions that have been found are rather, er, unorthodox."

"Like dancing at vampires."

"Er, yes." Again he adjusted his glasses. It seemed to get worse when he was nervous about something. "It's, er, it's more than that though."

"Oh?"

"Yes. These problems have existed for thousands of years, and the solutions, er, rather reflect that. The, er, the vampires for instance. Normal people don't stand much of a chance against them, even if they can, er, riverdance."

"So you're saying I'm special?"

"Yes, in a way. You're, er, sort of magically enhanced."

"I'm like what now?"

"Don't you find your natural ability to, er, to dance a little unusual?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But nothing. Normally dancers will train for years to reach the level of fitness and proficiency you showed at the trials last week. The whole purpose of the trials was to find the next person to whom the, er, the gift had been passed."

"This is too much. First vampires, then ley lines and dragons. Now magic too? And what happened to your last gifted person?"

"Best… best not to ask. The, er, magic comes from another world. Our ancestors were far more talented and knowledgeable than anyone is today, and they managed to pin a particular convergence and control it – link it to one person. What comes from it, we're not, not entirely sure, but it brings supernatural strength and agility to whoever receives it. It, er, it latches onto the most likely candidate, and because of the nature of what is required, all of the, er, recent candidates have been women. I don't suppose there's something you're not telling me is there?"

"No," I said, perhaps a little too quickly. "But what happened to the others?"

"Well, if you must know, they, er, they all died."

"Died? Of what? Old age? Being run over by a bus?"

"What do you think they died of? I've already tried to impress on you that this is not a game. Vampires are dangerous.

"Which means that we really need to get on with your training. Would you please change?"

I looked at the dresses. Part of me desperately wanted to be wearing one again. It had felt unusually right to be clothed that way, even though there was a large part of me that fought the feeling. I knew how people treated anyone who wasn't normal, and it was ten times worse out here in the country. I wasn't about to commit that level of social suicide.

"Look. There are no cameras, I'm not a pervert, and for now the only people who'll know about it are yourself and me, and, and perhaps a few vampires who you're soon going to turn into dust. See how things go, okay? We can discuss what to do afterwards."

"What can we do?" I wanted to know. "I mean is there a way of removing this 'gift' as you call it from me?"

"I, I, I don't know." His stammer also seemed to get worse as his nervousness increased. "But, but, I, I'll check. I promise I'll check. For now can't you, what is it you young people say? Go with the flow?"

"Yeah daddio," I said. "Well cool, and peace out man."

"So you'll do it?" he asked, entirely missing my sarcasm.

It wasn't worth it, and besides, despite my protestations, I rather liked the idea of putting on a dress again.

"Sure. I'm really not sure about the shoes though."

"Believe me, you'll have no problem with them. Since you have almost certainly been given the gift, you'll be able to walk in them without difficulty almost immediately. Dancing and fighting will come with a minute or so's practice.

"I'll, I'll, er, leave you to get changed, shall I?"

I smiled at him and pulled a dress of its hanger.

"This stuff looks a little small," I said, holding it up to me.

"Yes, I imagine there will be a little adjustment needed. The, er, the magic should take care of that."

The shoes looked a couple of sizes too small as well, but, well we'd see.

Tights first. I've seen it done enough times, even done it recently – gather up to the toe and slide on over the leg. Just describing it doesn't do justice to the way it made me feel though. I'd have to shave my legs, or do something to get rid of the hairs though; they looked wrong through the thin white material.

Second came the dress itself. The material was a little stretchy, but it had been made for a torso considerably smaller than mine. Still, I'd seen and heard enough amazing things so far in the last half hour or so to at least give it a try. Feeling just a tiny bit foolish, I pulled it over my head.

It was a struggle at first. There was give there, but not enough, then it seemed to ease a little and the entire garment slipped into place as though it were made for me. I straightened out the skirt feeling a little odd. My hips felt strangely wide, and I appeared to have a couple of small mounds protruding from my chest, which was unusual as I was sure there hadn't been any padding sewn into the dress.

I shook my head and reached for the shoes. They were all much of a muchness, and quite a lot like the ones I'd used as hand weapons in my fight earlier. Just holding them against my feet, the task seemed impossible. My toes looked like they extended a good inch and a bit beyond the length of the shoe. Still it was only one more impossible thing. I slid my foot in and found it fit perfectly. Rather worryingly the shoe hadn't seemed to change. I put my other foot beside my first, and it seemed immense by comparison. Half a change would be worse than a whole one either way though. I grabbed the other shoe and slid my second foot just as easily into the shoe.

Four and a half inches of heel. If I'd felt like I was walking on my toes at the school, this was so much more so. I tried walking and found it surprisingly easy. My back end wobbled a bit more than I was used to, but balance felt natural even without all of my feet to help.

I opened the door to find him waiting. He gave me a look which I can only describe as inscrutable. It held a hint of shock, another of resigned acceptance? He didn't give me a chance to ask, but led me back to the arena.

"We have a minute or two," he said, "so let's do a few warm up exercises."

"How do you know how long we have?"

"They make a sound, these, er, vampires." He pointed at his ear. "It's subsonic, but I have a transducer that allows me to hear it. I've become rather good over the years, and I can judge fairly accurately how many there are — because they all sound slightly different — and how far away. I'd say there are seven on the way, two of which will arrive in about a minute and a half, then the others at regularish intervals, perhaps fifteen to twenty seconds apart. They'll be a good test of your abilities, I should think, but let's get you used to the, er, changes shall we?" Again the oddly guilty look.

I didn't have time to think about it though. He had me recall a series of dance sequences and run through them several times over until I was able to perform them as well or better than I had before. It was true that without my jeans flapping around, I could move with a lot more accuracy and speed. It was also true that within just a minute, I was totally comfortable moving in the shoes. Somehow I seemed to be able to jump and kick a lot higher too. I didn't have much time to think on that either.

"That's very good," he said. "You have about twenty seconds before the first two arrive. Remember, keep your arms by your side, and might I encourage you not to experiment too much. Dispatch them as quickly as you can, so that you don't end up facing too many at the same time." He climbed the stairs as he spoke. "I'll be just outside as I was before. I'll try to leave you to do this without any interference from me. Oh, and one final thing."

"What?" I was beginning to feel nervous again.

"They have more reason to be afraid of you." He flashed me a tight grin then retreated out the door.