Kim frowned, as though trying to remember something that had happened long ago. “There was a phone call, early in the morning. From my agent, telling me I had to come in for a special audition. A really big part, he said, that could make my career. I started to ask for details, but he gave me the address and the time, and told me to hurry. I was so excited . . . I came down into the Underground, waited for my train to come, then someone stabbed me in the back. I never even saw his face. I didn’t understand what had happened, at first. The pain, and falling, and the platform rising to hit me in the face. There were people all around me, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. And then . . . I was back standing on the platform, completely alone, waiting for a train that never came. I’d still be standing there if JC hadn’t come and found me . . .”

“This is why I never get anywhere with women,” said Happy. “I can’t stand this soppy sentimental stuff.”

“Trust me,” said JC. “That’s not the only reason.”

“But . . . how does her death tie in with everything that’s happened here?” said Melody. “And why has the Intruder made such a point of using her?”

“Because she’s important to me?” said JC.

Melody sniffed. “Not everything is about you, JC.”

“Look me in the eye and say that,” said JC.

“Sounds like necromancy to me,” Happy said quickly. “Murder magic. Energy generated by the destruction of a life and the loss of all the things that person might have done. Lot of energy in murder. You were lured down here just to be killed, Kim.”

“I want my machines!” said Melody. “Theories are all very well, but I need hard, solid facts to work with! I have got to run some tests on you, Kim. I’ve never encountered such a conscious, interactive, alive-seeming post-mortem presence.”

She walked quickly around Kim, several times, examining the ghost girl from all angles, much to Kim’s quiet amusement.

“Most ghosts run in circles,” said Melody, at least partly to herself. “Endlessly repeating old actions, old emotions, significant events. They don’t react to, or interact with, the real world because they can’t see it. Quite literally lost in their own worlds. The future isn’t important to them because they’re locked in the past.” She turned abruptly to study JC. “And I’m dying to put you under the microscope and see what makes you tick. You’ve changed . . . and I don’t mean only those highly unsettling eyes of yours. I want to know what hosting the Light has done to you. There’s a whole series of serious scientific papers in you, JC, and I want my name on them.”

“You’ve got to do something about those eyes, JC,” said Happy. “They’re too disturbing for mere mortals like us. How about a nice set of designer shades?”