A cold hand grabs my hair, then grips my face, dragging at my mouth. It tastes more foul than—

‘Ah, I can taste you. So alive. You’re on my list, my dear.’

It can’t taste me. I can taste it. Object relations are getting mixed up here; it’s as if I’ve mingled with the Creeper in some horrid way. I prise the hand off my face and throw the arm away in disgust. The voice is somewhere behind me. I turn toward it. Light from the main room of the suite illumines the Creeper’s figure – or most of it. There’s no head.

I must have knocked it off when I hit it with the lamp, because the detached head lies on the bed, face down.

I’m so grossed-out it takes me a moment to notice that Mel isn’t in the bed any more.

Where did she go? She must have left the bed while the lights were out. She hasn’t woken up yet or the dream would have ended. Where is she?

This doesn’t make sense. It’s her dream. She can’t leave.

Then I remember what happened last time I lost track of her. I rush to the bathroom, but she’s not there. Thankfully there is no window. I go into the other room, where Antonio is asleep on the sofabed. She’s not in the suite – at least, not in this dream version of it.

I need to wake up right now. Right now.

But I can’t.

‘You’re such a stupid person,’ says the Creeper.

The Creeper has managed a wardrobe change while I was distracted. It’s no longer wearing black Darth Vader robes, but Mel’s PJs. And its head, lying face down on the bed, now has Mel’s hair: silky, black and long.

I turn the head over, very gently. Mel’s face, eyes open, stare back at me without sight.

* * *

I wake in a panic.

‘Mel! Mel! Wake up!’

The real-life hotel room is perfectly tidy, but it’s also empty. Of course it is. Again: the tangled bedclothes. Again: the closed bathroom door. When I wrench the real door open, there is nothing but a brightly lit luxury bathroom smelling of Melodie’s perfume.

I run out into the living room.

‘Antonio! Antonio?’

He isn’t there. The door to the hall is open.

I dash outside. The hallway is empty. I start towards the lift, but there’s no sign of anyone. I go the other way, but the hall comes to an end at the Rochester Suite, which appears to take up the better part of the floor. It has Grecian urns on plinths outside it.

I return to the suite and ping Antonio. ‘Where’s Mel????’

He Spacetimes me right back. ‘I can’t find her. I’m in the lobby now. There’s some commotion, hold on—’