The pain was gone too. Not wanting to make a mess, Ryan emptied the silver dust on to a gap in the bookshelf, then brushed at his hand. There was something smudged on his palm. He tried to wipe it away, but it wouldn’t come off. Then he realised his skin wasn’t smudged – it was burned. The clasp had burned itself into his flesh.

“What you got there?”

Ryan turned at the sound of the voice. It was the leader of the gang. The other three stood behind him. They were all looking at him like he was prey.

“Nothing,” Ryan mumbled, closing his hand.

“We heard you cry out,” said the man. “We heard you cry out and Mercy said – that’s Mercy over there – Mercy said let’s see if he needs any help.”

“I said that,” the woman with the spiky hair confirmed, nodding her spiky head. “I was worried. Because I care.”

“She does care,” said the leader. “She wanted to know if you’d hurt yourself. Have you hurt yourself? She wanted to know if you’d hurt yourself and Obloquy said – Obloquy’s the big lad – Obloquy said how is he going to hurt himself in a library? Is he going to paper-cut himself to death?”

The leader laughed, and Mercy laughed, and the big one grinned.

“I’m funny,” he said.

“How did you hurt yourself?” the leader asked, coming down off the laugh with a friendly chuckle.

“I didn’t hurt myself,” said Ryan. “I’m fine.”

“But we heard you cry out,” said the man, suddenly frowning. “We heard you. Didn’t we hear him?”

“I heard him,” said Mercy.

“I heard him too, Foe,” said Obloquy.

The middle-aged man, the accountant, didn’t say anything.

The leader, Foe, examined Ryan curiously. “You don’t have to be scared of us. Is that what’s wrong? You’re scared of us? You don’t have to be. We’re not bad people.”

Obloquy laughed, and Mercy jammed an elbow into his ribs to shut him up.

“I know you’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” Foe continued, “but aren’t you a bit old for that? Isn’t that rule more for kids? You’re not a kid any more, are you? What are you, fifteen or so?” He reached out, dipping a finger into the silver dust on the bookshelf, then bringing it to the tip of his tongue. He tasted it, and smiled at Ryan. “And if you don’t talk to strangers, how are you going to make friends? Friends are important. We want to be friends.”

“We really do,” said Mercy.