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remains of a broken mirror. It was cracked in a spiral pattern, like someone had punched it in the centre.
    Francesca raised her head and dried her face off with a plain towel. She still looked rather pale even under the indoor lights. Fulton was going to ask her if she was all right when he noticed her reflection in the shattered mirror. Instead of her exquisite image, the reflection appeared as an abhorrent mask. Her mouth contorted to admit long pointed fangs. Her eyes were malformed under a thick sloping brow that met an upturned nose with flaring nostrils. Looking at her almost in profile Fulton could see that Francesca's face didn't match that reflected back from the mirror.
    "How do you do that?" Fulton said.
    The eyes in the mirror moved and locked on him. Francesca growled and turned to face him. As she turned her face morphed and contorted so that it matched the countenance he had seen in the mirror.
    "I didn't think you were a shallow person," Francesca said. "Were you only after me for my looks?"
    Fulton faltered and just remained staring at, whatever he was staring at.
    "Why can't people look beyond appearance and see what's on the inside?" she continued.
    Fulton regained his voice. "I think it's what's on the inside that put me off this time," he said.
    "Ooh. You've got fire. I like that in a man. Come on lover boy why don't we finish what we started?" She shook her head and her features melted back to their beautiful shape. She raised her hand and Fulton felt his gaze drawn up with it to her eyes.
    With a huge effort and tremendous force of will that was so difficult it caused him physical pain Fulton tore his eyes away and ran from the room. He might know some martial arts but he wasn't about to test them against that . He didn't stop to retrieve his shirt or coat, so he ran out into the cold night air topless. The lift doors were already open on this floor and Fulton barrelled inside hammering the button for the ground floor. The doors seemed to take an eternity to slide closed and Fulton expected to see Francesca appear at any moment.
    The lift started to move down. The indicator said it was on the third floor when a thud shook the tiny box. Something heavy had landed on the roof. Fulton looked up as the lift passed the second floor. There was a crash and a fist punched through the back left corner of the roof. The hand groped around, taking hold of the broken corner it started tugging the metal away. Peeling the roof back like a foil lid on microwave food, now that wasn’t a pleasant thought . Fulton backed into the opposite corner and hammered some more on the lowest button, as if it would make the lift travel any faster.
    A hole almost wide enough for Francesca, the whatever she was, to fit through had been opened by the time the doors opened again. Fulton hit the highest numbered button he could see before darting out. He didn't wait to see the doors close before he ran out of the block. He stumbled on the kerb of the road and got his feet tangled in some discarded paper streamers.
    The alcohol and shock to his system at seeing what he had seen had totally destroyed his sense of direction. He couldn't remember which way he had came from the square. But he knew if he could get back there where there were plenty of people he would be safe. He had no time to stand around deciding which direction to go so he ran off to the left. If he took the next left after that he should be heading around the other side of the block and that was roughly where the square was. At least he thought it was.
    Fulton hazarded a glance over his right shoulder but there was no sign of his pursuer. Fulton's feet kicked up dirty rain water from numerous puddles but the rain that had stopped earlier had yet to return. The needed branch off to the left came and he turned down it.
    There she was, waiting for him halfway down the street. The celebrations in the square could be seen in the background but there was too much noise for