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The narrator of this story has remained silent for too long letting Andi and Jean describe their progression through a tangled web. There is a point when an interested observer must step forward to inform readers about events unknown to our protagonists. The twin sisters born of different mothers may be on a collision course with fate unaware. A good story teller is not going to spill the beans, however sometimes he has to inform or warn the reader outside events plot to trip up our heroines.

It is appropriate to acknowledge those hidden desires belonging to Andrew Lyons may not have been his desires. The same can be said for his twin sister Jean Phillips. They are not twins by birth or even related. The narrator said too much informing readers outside forces are manipulating events. It is appropriate to note the date when Andy attends school presenting as Andréa It is not a coincidence it began the day before Halloween. Let me remind you who the forces of intervention represent.

Making jack-o'-lanterns at Halloween sprung from Samhain and Celtic beliefs. Turnip lanterns, sometimes with faces carved into them, were made on Samhain in the 19th century in parts of Ireland and the Scottish Highlands. As well as being used to light one's way while outside on Samhain night, they may also have been used to represent the spirits and fairies and or to protect oneself and one's home from them. Another legend is that a trickster named Jack decided one day to trick the Devil. He trapped the Devil in a pumpkin parading him around town. Eventually, Jack let the Devil out and the Devil put a curse on Jack forever making him a spirit in hell. On Halloween, Jack is released to terrorize the country all night. To protect themselves, the Irish would place a pumpkin with a face outside to scare Jack into believing it is the Devil.

We of modern times may discount the beliefs of the past. The narrator warns do not take chances on this ghostly night. Because you survive the hallows the next day can be even more threatening. We often forget the night of all souls.

Now for the pagan connection: Nov. 1 marked Samhain, the beginning of the Celtic winter. The Celts lived as early as 2,000 years ago in England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and northern France. Samhain, for whom the feast was named, was the Celtic lord of death, and his name literally meant “summer’s end.” Since winter is the season of cold, darkness and death, the Celts soon made the connection with human death. The eve of Samhain, Oct. 31, was a time of Celtic pagan sacrifice, and Samhain allowed the souls of the dead to return to their earthly homes that evening. Ghosts, witches, goblins, and elves came to harm the people, particularly those who had inflicted harm on them in this life. Cats too were considered sacred because they had once been human beings who had been changed as a punishment for their evil deeds on this earth.

To protect themselves from marauding evil spirits on the eve of Samhain, the people extinguished their hearth fires and the Druids the priests and spiritual teachers of the Belts built a huge new year's bonfire of sacred oak branches. The Druids offered burnt sacrifices, crops, animals, even humans and told fortunes of the coming year by examining the burned remains. People sometimes wore costumes of animal heads and skins. From this new fire, the home hearths were again ignited.

Particular ethnic groups developed their own lore which was merged with the celebration. In Ireland, people held a parade in honor of Muck Olla, a god. They followed a leader dressed in a white robe with a mask from the head of an animal, and begged for food. The Scots walked through fields and villages carrying torches and lit bonfires to ward off witches and other evil spirits. In Wales, every person placed a marked stone in the huge bonfire. If a person's stone could not be found the next morning, he would die within a year.

Besides the Celtic traditions in place, the Roman conquest of Britain in AD 43 brought two other pagan feasts: Feralia was held in late October to honor the dead. Another Autumn festival honored Pomona, the goddess of fruits and trees; probably through this festival, apples became associated with Halloween. Elements of these Roman celebrations were combined with the Celtic Samhain. With the spread of Christianity and the establishment of All Saints Day, some of these pagan customs remained in the English speaking world for All Hallows Eve or Halloween, All Saints Eve, perhaps at first more out of superstition and later, more out of fun. Nevertheless, All Saints Day clearly arose to be a Christian devotion.

Questions abound dear reader they are piling up for this narrator. Did poor Andrew who is hopelessly in love with Jean suddenly change focus by himself to become Jean’s replica? Is it possible an imp or demon lurks in the weeds playing tricks? What of Jean, Do you accept this pretty girl is thrown into denial wishing to be a boy because of one incident? Granted that one incident may be powerful enough to frighten a fragile young woman. Jean Phillips appears anything but fragile. Cause and effect you might say. Manipulate an incident by spiraling it into years of torment and the girl become putty in a jokester’s hands. There might be something to that. We have to consider Jean is simply a tool. Is it Jean becomes the catalysts in Troy’s evil plan? She would be a perfect carrier for the Trickster’s vile stem. A girl who wants to be a boy in the same bed as her new vulnerable love? The follower of Samhain will have two nights to implement his scheme if the narrator is guessing correctly. We will let events guide us to discovery. After all, my instructions are clear. Provide this author’s readers some clues and get out of the way. Few among us can accept a pretty girl longs to be a boy without a demonic influence driving it.

The narrator’s watch follows Yuri Beekman into the Sanctuary office. Yuri is district supervisor assigned to this unit of an organization founded by the Renovators. Every year a number of Sanctuary houses are established to trap spirits intending to harm unsuspecting innocents. The houses spring up at random every October during the early days of the month only to disappear on November 2nd. An organization of benevolent beings is dedicated to trap evil wherever they find it. Over time many have tried but no one has documented their origin. During All Hallows Eve and All Souls Day danger is at its apex. Beekman approaches his unit manager he calls Bela.

“Bella I have discovered your security has been breached as it had last year in Budapest. Do you recall what happened there? Do I need to remind you of the feeding frenzy at the hands of Vlad and his followers?”

The elder man resembling Hollywood’s early vampire looked cross at his boss. “Please I ask you once again sir stop with the Bella reference it is demeaning. My name is Helmut Belagosi. Yes I too am from Rumania there is no similarity with the actor beyond that. What is this about? A breach, there is nothing to indicate in our system a breach occurred.”

Yuri frowns producing a computer print out sheet noting several incidents of tampering. “Last week you allowed a boy to infiltrate using one of the passes issued by our system. He posed as a girl and was allowed full access to the Relaxation area. You remember we spoke of this yesterday? He was assigned a guide who is an evil spirit. The guide went by the name of Troy attempting to seduce his victim he turned into a girl. Yes the evil leader of this demonic clan was here. The jokester is planning irreparable harm as we speak. He has also been planting seeds into the mind of another child this one a female. He must enact his plan in two stages. Tonight is when he prepares his victim to receive his vile seed. Tomorrow he will mutilate his chosen tool to enable her to inject that same seed into the host.”

Helmut responds in a trembling voice, “But sir we had no idea who his victims are.”

“My dear Bella do you forget so soon? The pretty girl named Andréa? His name is Andrew, Andrew Lyons. The feminine persona was created in our own chamber. Troy tormented him for days planting a desire in his mind a compulsion to become a female. The lad took your invitation to Sanctuary house knowing he could create the illusion of an ideal female. Somehow his female presence escaped the planned seduction. I fear the child is in danger. Our agents went to his home but could not locate him. There is no telling what the prankster has in store for the lad. We can guess it will involve serious sexual overtones with devilish results.”

Helmut is at full alert suggesting Troy must be lurking inside our electronic system somewhere “He needs the energy to feed. Should we shut down the systems sir?”

Yuri shakes his head, “No that will release several demons we have trapped. We must search each file trying to locate where Troy is hiding to bleach it. That will secure the trap and hopefully put an end to the evil. His favorite game is impregnation of boys turning them into females carrying his seed. As you know a demon seed once planted cannot be purged. Think Bella, who is it the boy replicated. Who is his ideal female?”

“According to the video captures on file he appears to be a twin to a Miss Jean Phillips.” Helmut smiles as he sees a germ of recognition in his boss’ eyes.

“Of course Bella the Trickster must have them together to enact his plan. Send your agents to the Phillips’ house. Have them watch for the Trickster tonight. The girls are on their way here invited by the evil demon. He intends upon seduce them in our house to prove we are powerless against him. Miss Phillips is his tool. He will find a wary tough Ms. Phillips who appears alerted to danger, she is much more than he knows.”

Bella’s eyes widen surprised by Beekman’s comment. “Sir you explained how the Trickster has implanted desires into the girl to use her as his tool. Yet you say she is wary and likely to present an unplanned surprise. No human has bested this particular demon over the centuries. You dare suggest this teenaged girl presents a problem for him. Sir I mean no disrespect but what you say is rather shocking.”

“My dear Bella when Ms Phillips arrives at our door step please observe how she is dressed. The young woman is defiant showing no fear. The Trickster will have you believe she desires manly features. She has a hunger driving her to posses Miss Lyons. If that is so why then does she appear so feminine? The Trickster’s implant appears to have missed its mark. I might suggest there is more to Ms. Phillips than any of us suspect. My good man make our humble establishment appear less inviting to little girls who are about to reach our doorstep. The Boss for some reason decided the battle should be waged elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere Sir? But we lose the ability to trap the Trickster.”

“I know Bella as you are aware the Boss works in mysterious ways.”

I rode shotgun while Andréa drove to this mysterious Sanctuary House. I expected serious creepy events waiting for us as I watched out the window. My head is pounding with a massive migraine. Nobody had to tell me my boy Troy is busily at work planning his attack. The further we drove the more uncertain I became and the more I wanted to scream get me out of here. I know one thing this freak whoever he is will not go away even if we turn and run. In fact I reasoned the opposite is true this sucker feeds on fear. I will not give him that.

“Jean you are awfully quiet. I might add for somebody who said she wanted to fake being a guy you screwed it up before you even started. Look at you, you are a frigging princess.”

“It’s all part of the plan. Have you got any heat in this car? It is freezing in here?” Before she could answer the voice interrupted. ‘It is only my presence you feel my future young man. Did you think wearing a skirt would change anything? Those legs you tease me with only serve to drive my desire to screw you both. Two little bitches impregnated with my seed. One becomes my eternal concubine while the other raises my seed. Ha, Ha, Ha you will be begging for me to split you’re tight pussy. You know you cannot run.’

One would think I’d be terrified with that shit going on in my head. I dare say you’d be right but I’m wise to this fake. At least I tell myself this. It is what keeps me going. Otherwise I’d be on my knees begging which feeds his frenzy. Go ahead kill me that’s what it will take. Fuck it you will not control me. I don’t tell him that instead he gets this. ‘Right asshole, if you could do that you would have done it. But you can’t because you are impotent nothing more than a eunuch who gets off via voyeurism.’ I hear this bloody scream splitting my head. I swear it felt like my head is going to explode. Nobody accused me of being bright. ‘It looks like I hit a nerve so fuck off asshole.’ Silence, total silence until Andréa spoke.

“Jean Sanctuary House is up ahead. We are here but the place is not right.” I am tuned to Andréa’s vibes as she points to a dilapidated run down scary version of the Bates Hotel. We get out of the car to stare at the two story old house all boarded up. The mists are swirling all around us refracting light from a full moon. It presents the perfect Halloween night. I feel Andréa grip my arm tight. Windows busted out more broken than whole. The porch roof is angled as if it is about to collapse. I sense Andréa’s about to freak out so I take her hand. “It looks like they went out of business. Come on lets go home. It is getting dark and nasty out here.”

“You don’t believe me do you Jean? You think I made all this up. You must think I am some kind of weirdo. How can you be so unflappable? Do you know something I do not? I have this strange feeling something evil is about and you know it. Don’t you?”

Andréa nails it she is not as clueless as I thought. I am fighting like hell trying to keep it together and I don’t need Andréa going off the deep end. I have to keep it at bay. I don’t say anything beyond a reassurance from by squeezing hand. I follow Andréa to back to the car settling into the passenger’s seat.

“Jean do you want to drive, I’m rather shaky.”

“No I don’t trust myself it feels like there is a war going on in my head, migraine.” My tormentor is silent as well perhaps that scream gave him a migraine too, I certainly hope so. I should be scared but I’m not. Call me stupid but you’d be more accurate if you called me pissed off. I am fed up with this torment by assholes. I’ve been ignored, dissed and treated like shit for the last four years. I’ve drawn a line in the sand. We read almost daily some kid killed himself because of bullying. The endless tormenting drives them suicidal. This is the point I’m at. Not suicidal, fed up choosing to fight rather than submit to yet another bully. Like it says on New Hampshire’s license plate, Live free or die. This is the place I’m at. It may not be the right move but if it is a fight bring it on sucker. We arrive back to the house where I make Andréa swear she is spending the night. I have a feeling it will be a long one.

Andréa sits nervously at the vanity she just exited the shower wearing a flimsy silk light night shirt. I said silk like, because neither of us can afford silk. She’s focusing upon the mirror playing with her hair speaking with a nervous voice. “Jean are you sure you believe me about that Sanctuary House? I feel like such a fool.”

I walk over to her offering a reassuring hug. My thoughts are troubled as events of the past few weeks pop in my head. I am hugging a very pretty girl who less than a week ago was a boy who lusted after me. To raise the ridiculous meter the girl is now my twin. I stroke Andréa’s hair gently when the sound hits. A grandfather clock bongs announcing midnight. It is unsettling because we do not own one of those clocks. Then I see him, the Trickster is in the mirror. Andréa obviously does not, thank you sweet Jesus. I pretend I do not see him deflating his attempt to shock, terrorize or whatever the freak’s intention may be. I only know I’m not getting much sleep tonight.

Andréa no sooner settled into bed reaching for the light switch when I felt my feet glued to the floor. I cannot move. My eyes shift to the mirror seeing his smiling face. There is an aura about him best described as what you see in old photographs. The oval shaped ones where there is a soft rounded edge to them. It is that rounded edge presenting a red glow encompassing his body drawing my attention. It is like he has his shields up defending a Romulan attack. He catches my stare and points to Andréa. I see her levitating a few inches above the bed. He directs with his fingers causing her shirt to fly away. He beckons as if he is motioning come here. My sister floats into the mirror its glass rippling as water. My attempt to step forward is prevented by the goo.

His next move is rather swift a sleeping Andréa settles onto the bed inside the mirror. My eyes shift to the room noting she is not on our bed. The mirror is not a reflection. Andréa is naked lying on a sheet with her legs splayed cuffed to bed posts. Troy leans in close flicking her breasts with his tongue there is a definite deepening color in his aura. Sexually sated he turns facing me, His lips moist with a white casts, ‘Milk, not possible.’ Anything is possible in this insane world. It is not a dream, I’m wide awake. Now he is beckoning me, shit I’m at bat.

I’m not floating exactly; I’m upright gliding drawing ever closer. Troy’s face is twisted as I notice his aura grows lighter. Is it because I’m laughing at him? I wonder determining I need to test this and do so rather quickly. Liquid glass is getting near almost at once the ripples yield covering me with a goo like substance, think spiderweb as I’m drawn into the other side. My feet settle on the floor several paces from him. Andréa, still sleeping is to my left, the freak in front of me. I am so ridiculously calm he appears to be coming undone, now for my test.

His aura fades a bit as he snaps his fingers causing my pajamas exploding from my body. I expected this allowing me to conceal any reaction. The aura lightens some more. His voice reveals his agitation. “On your knees bitch, bow to your master.”

Here we go again. His fixation on this master crap grows tiring. You did get it when I said I’ve had it with his childish behavior? I send him my greetings, ‘Fuck you asshole.’ Nothing, ‘are you deaf as well as retarded? I said buzz off.’ Still nothing confirming my suspicion he cannot read my thoughts. Is it due to his crumbling shields or because it takes too much energy to present in high definition?

Troy displays pure anger flicking his fingers causing an unwelcome feeling. I glance down watching a freaking penis beginning to form. “Cute freak what is your next magical trick? Now that I have what you lack you really should kneel before me.” I laugh at his growing rage he is expending all his energy.

“You will do my bidding you stupid girl. Know your place on your knees and beg my mercy.”

I notice he is keeping his distance as I step toward him he moves back. “Kneel bitch, I command you.”

This time I laugh shaking my head pushing his buttons. I need to try one more thing, it might be a very stupid move it is one I must take. I’ve noticed my penis has grown quite large and erect. As it becomes more profound his aura strengthens. It is fear from his victims and sexual responses that feed his energy. I need to redirect that. Again he commands, “On your knees surrender to your master.”

I concentrate knowing he can’t force the issue or he would have. Just like he cannot rape Andréa he needs me to do that. The little bastard is impotent as I guessed earlier. I concentrate focusing forcing my erection to shrivel. His aura responds in kind. “Big boy what is the matter you can’t get it up? You need to grow a pair.”

Wrong thing to say I can see it coming. My dodge is not quick enough but it saved me from the brunt. His hand flew forward striking my hip hard sending me flying against the wall. It hurt like hell. I smell something smoldering and see a scorch mark on my hip. Picking myself off the floor spewing several “Fuck you” comments I noticed something. His right hand is missing replaced by a burning stub hanging there. My secret weapon works. Does that idiot know his hand is gone?

“Your punishment will be to reside in hell as my concubine you stupid bitch. You dishonored your master.”

His aura has nearly disappeared. I will give him credit he is focused on his need. That works in my favor as I try to draw closer. The closer the better a couple more burned off appendages is what I need. Assuming I can survive the blows.

“Cut the crap asshole what do you want? You are beginning to bore me. If you need a favor due to your impotence then ask. We both know you can’t get it up so cut the concubine crap. I’m not impressed. Be nice or buzz off.”

The expression on his face is priceless. I’m betting I am the first crazy teenaged bitch he’s encountered. Troy’s shields are fading he must feel the pressure. I suspect he is becoming desperate. “You will impregnate that slut and you will do it know. Then I will release you.”

“Is that all, do I get to keep this weapon?” I stroke myself for effect to see his aura start to pick up. Wrong move I need to get him closer. “Bring her over here I’ll need your help.” He shakes his head, “You go to her. Kneel between her legs and drive with force.”

I find myself between Andréa’s legs my erection pointed at her prize. I need to get this asshole closer. I have to contain my rage. I suddenly discovered rage emits the same vibes as fear. The last thing I need is for this creep to gain energy. He is nothing more than a perverted voyeur. I must draw him closer. “Hey come here you need to see this. She is leaking.”

Cautiously he draws near to view his sexual voyeurism. He is not going to get what he needs. ‘Closer just a bit more, that’s it another step. That’s it!’ He is hovering over my shoulder staring at Andréa’s slit eyes wide and excited. I can see his meter starting to perk. ‘It’s now or never, here goes.’ I turn quickly diving into him wrapping my arms around his chest. My lips meet his. I want to puke. He strikes out smashing at my cheek I go flying as I see a Roman candle exploding upward followed by a piercing scream and I black out.

This is very upsetting for your narrator not being able to intercede on behalf of those poor girls. As you are well aware dear readers narrators are bound by literary rules to report only. Perhaps our ghost busters at this strange Sanctuary House can be of help.

“Bella you are going to have to follow up to see what damage has been done. Our agents report Troy has vanished likely back to the fiery pit from where he came, until next year. He is with his lord celebrating a victory. I fear we must monitor these girls placing them under a demon watch.”

“My dear Mr. Beckman shall we close down the Sanctuary now?

“No, no we must stay through the second of the month. We still have one night of activity to ward off. You are on call to go to the girl Dr. Belagosi. Do you like your new title? It will serve you well in the first hours of the morning. Check everything and bring her here if you find any sign of penetration. The Trickster enjoys his game wanting his victims to tremble with anticipation. He gets his kicks when they beg. At least the demon has fled for now to revel in his victory of planting his seed. Your agents arrived as the Trickster acted earlier than he normally does. As you said he infiltrated our system and must have been warned. We can’t have another of those human hybrids appearing on the scene now can we?”

Belagosi is seen picking up his little black bag produced out of thin air. He sits by the phone as if expecting a call. Beekman is giving orders to an agent dressed in black with no visible features. “You may have to complete a massive mind spell if the Trickster’s adjustments held. That means enacting a wide records sweep. This must be a clean operation. I’m happy to hear no other disruptions are successful in the district. It is amazing how stupid these demons are. They keep falling for the same tricks over and over again.”

Beckman escorts the agent to the next room then returns to sit next to Belagosi. “Helmut you look tired. One more day and we can rest. Have you ever thought about retirement?”

“Many times Yuri. Do you remember when we brought down Vlad the Impaler? That hybrid was particularly troublesome. The idiot actually thought he was a vampire until he ran into a real one. Ah those were the days when we were on patrol with nothing but holy water and stakes. As you must recall our tools were crude and far messier than silver bullets. At least now fighting demons with high tech tools we can relax. These freaks are as you said so stupid our tasks have become easier. There is almost no challenge to it, well until one manages to slip out like our boy Troy.”

“I know what you mean Bela.” Yuri laughs at his tease. “Lighten up old man you do look like the actor. As I said our boy Troy is a real sex freak. He likes turning boys into girls getting them pregnant. He then removes the spell that convinced them they wanted to become female. With the spell gone the new pregnant girls rage against what happened to them. Troy usually goes after the most homophobic types he can find. Their rage provides considerable fuel for him. The victims go insane blaming the Boss. They come unglued after the third or fourth abortion attempt. As you, are aware the little demon inside keeps coming back. You can’t abort a demon. The spawn makes the best serial killers. The worst of the lot were given to humans via this method. That is because they are demons. We don’t have to worry about Troy for another year. Because as you, know they all come back.”

Helmut hugs Yuri smiling, “Don’t let that bother you it is called job security. Well I guess I have to wait for the phone call.”

Finally, the Narrator can take a back seat allowing our heroes to tell their own story. I should not complain about how taxing this sorry tale has been. It could be worse the author might have produced an audio book. If you have never done one of those don’t even try. Not only must you read every syllable you have to provide appealing voices for each character. There are simply too many female expressions included here. Female voices are the worst for me to render. At least my time here is almost done.

Hold that thought a minute the author informs me I am not finished until the chapter ends. At least the writer did not insult your intelligence with the usual characters. You know who I mean. When the little fruit comes out admitting he is a girl the parents either go off the deep end persecuting the kid or they are so supportive nobody believes it. Sometimes a writer offers up the intersexed kid who is part girl already. At least we do not suffer that overdone theme. Have you noticed all converts willing or not become pretty girls? That is all well and good. Please just once present us a poor soul wanting the gentler side to turn out as a heifer often seen at the Target store.

Please consider parents who want to make their boy into a girl do you realize the fallout? Think about it, if a parent takes the kid hiking and gets mud on him CPS charges them with child abuse. I imagine they’d go ballistic when a parent forces a sex change. I digress; if I don’t shut up I won’t get to the end of the chapter and get out of here.

Hopefully, setting this scene will be the end of a narrator’s work. The unfortunate protagonists can tell their own stories. Inside the Phillips’ bedroom where Luke, Jean’s father rushed in with his fully loaded semi automatic weapon to view chaos. He awoke upon hearing the girl’s screams following an explosion. The narrator is a pacifist knowing nothing about guns. So I cannot describe the weapon beyond it being a semi automatic. That is all the information the writer provided me. Hard on his heals Marie is seen rushing into the room. Her name is a lapse in the story as no one reported Mrs. Phillips’ first name. For the record it is Marie. In the name of full disclosure Jean’s middle name is Marie after her mother. Nothing has been disclosed to suggest Andrew or Andréa’s middle name. At second thought perhaps it was mentioned somewhere. If your narrator missed that simply chalk it up to a bored reporter trying to extend the chapter.

Luke rushes to his daughter’s side there is a large bruise on her cheek as if she were struck hard. “Jean, Jean are you okay? What happened?”

She cannot answer from her unconsciousness state. Luke is holding her not noticing Andréa crawling on the floor the girl is naked. Marie rushes to her quickly wrapping Andréa in a sheet. The girl is whimpering something sounding as if she is begging. “Please master complete me.”

Marie’s gentle grasp caresses the girl using her fingers to trace Andréa’s cheek. “You are safe child there is no one other than Luke, Jean and I.” Mrs. Phillips can feel the girl’s temperature rising she calls to her husband. “Help me get her to bed. Is Jean okay?”

Luke turns nodding managing only a terrified, “She is sleeping but something hit her though there is nothing here. The room was empty when I arrived and no one appeared in the hall. I would have seen him.”

He lifted Andréa as if she weighed nothing placing her on the bed next to Jean. She is burning up and her mumblings make no sense. “What is this make me complete crap? I need to call the doctor at first light.” A strange thought enters Luke’s mind. It is the phone number of Doctor Belagosi.

Marie sits by the bed bathing Andréa’s brow with a wet wash cloth. “If her fever continues to rise you may have to help me put her in a tub of water.”

Luke nods worried his touching a naked girl not his daughter may be wrong. He views the beautiful girl dismissing those thoughts realizing there would be nothing improper. It might be necessary to save a life and Marie will be at his side.

Marie suddenly points to the ceiling as the rising sun is showing through a hole in the roof. “My God, Luke look up!”

Exactly above the head of the bed is a hole the size of a basketball. The broken boards and roofing slate are pointing inward as if a force struck hard. Luke’s eyes are wide as he stares demanding answers. There is nothing on the floor or bed to reveal what struck his daughter. Jean is still not awake. Luke turns to walk into his bedroom where he dials a number. Finally, your narrator can bid you adieu.

Next Chapter 8 Belagosi to the Rescue