Revenge of the Dixie Devil by Kin Fallon, Alexander Thomas, Sylvia Lowry, Chris Westlake, Clarice Clique

collection of foreign dealers’ catalogues. For a moment I trembled. I recognised every detail, the carved posts, the elaborate cabinets either side of the mirrored head. It described the intricate glass patterns in the canopied roof.
    It was a 15th-century German bed made for the noble owner of a castle on the banks of the Rhine. Not a French brothel in sight. That rich female voice must have been an echo of his mistress.
    Should I tell the plumber? Would it destroy his vigorous love life if he knew the bed had belonged to a German prince all that long ago? Would it begin to haunt him with its own memories of a chilly stone room high in a turret tower?
    I phoned the estate agent the next morning. ‘Absolutely lovely flat,’ I said, injecting my voice with warmth. ‘But I’m so sorry, I won’t be buying it. Cobwebs, you know. Rather too many cobwebs.’

Pages From the Records of Doctor Helena Hopfl
by Kin Fallon
    Experiment Number 307, 3 days until completion.
    Reinforced the mechanism on the drawbridge today. Cogs were stiff and stone dry; it took great effort. Cannot afford to have intruders or busybodies disturbing the quiet of the castle. This week’s work is crucial. The work on Man Model Mark II is almost complete. The final few pieces of the puzzle are coming together, they seem close but ungraspable. It will be worth the effort when it is brought into life and there is help with the work.
    Today went as scheduled. Spent the morning perfecting the breath pump. Took two long breaths into the tube and two hard pushes on the pump to get the air sack at the other end to fill with enough oxygen as the Model needs for one breath. Perhaps the Mark II was built too large. A poor decision maybe. I do not recall the reasoning behind its six feet length, nor the rationale for the width of the shoulders, the expanse of the chest. Certainly it will help with tasks of strength, the evident musculature attests to that, but it seems a little excessive.
    Worked on the pump mechanism for some time trying to improve on the two to one breath ratio but could not get it any lower. Opened the Mark II’s “mouth” and inserted the tube. Worried about dryness/rubbing and decided to wet it first. Applied a layer of oil to its lips and then, inserting a finger into the mouth, wet the tongue, the inner sides of the cheeks and back down into the throat.
    Reinserted the tube into the wet mouth and commenced pumping. Pumped twice to give enough oxygen and the calculations held. The chest expansion was extraordinary. Started slowly, marvelling at the structure. Began to get breathless myself as it was hard going, but needed to test it at higher speeds. Pumping harder, faster, I watched the chest rise and fall with increasing speed without losing any of the fullness of the volume of each individual breath.
    Began to feel the effect of my exertions in strange ways. My own breath speeding up was expected and had been accounted for. But … Also felt unusual sensations in the most unlikely part of my body and a heat from that centre. The sensation became so distracting that it threatened the experiment as it begged for attention with a force hard to ignore. Luckily, by instinct my legs found themselves either side of the pump. As the work continued the site of my distraction pushed roughly against the pump mechanism. Watched Mark II from my new position, my feet firmly apart, pump between my legs, my body squatting and rising, my centre pushing harshly against the pump, pushing my every hot breath forcefully down the tube and watching that enormous chest rise and fall in response.
    My breath felt almost spent but the need to see Mark II’s body “breathe” one more time with mine was enough to enable me to continue. Was able to continue the experiment thus, pushing myself with greater and greater force against the pump to satisfy that feeling as the exhausting up-and-down continued.
    Finally, without any thought my hands released the pump