It was dark - but not so dark I couldn't see. The octopus moon hid behind a patch of clouds but its watery tentacles reached around my window curtains, creating bands of light offset by inky shadows within my room.

'Brackenby,' I called softly from my cot. 'It's midnight.'

'Midnight,' he muttered drowsily from the other room. I could hear his covers being thrown back and the ancient bed he was lying in creak under his shifting weight. 'Midnight, and Peter's sound asleep.'

'You still want to go?'

'Of course,' he said, with little of the enthusiasm he had expressed earlier, when we'd made the decision to embark on this adventure.

Groping for the doorknob where I'd hung my jeans, I stumbled over one of my tennis shoes. A flashlight came on in the other room. Its glow, reflected by the walls, was enough to allow me to get my feet down my pant legs and to cautiously shuffle in to join my brother at Peter's bedside without tripping over the shoe's mate.

'I've shaken him twice,' Brackenby said, shining his flashlight full in the sleeping Peter's face. 'If he wasn't warm, I'd think he was dead.'

'The sea breeze'll bring him to life,' I murmured, throwing Peter's covers over the foot of his bed, leaving him nothing but his briefs to snuggle down under. I opened the door that led outside. The cool air and a few proddings had the desired effect on Peter. He groggily swung himself out of bed and began to fumble about for his clothes in the bouncing shadows created by the flashlight. Tying his shoes, he asked, 'Where'd I leave my coat, anyway?'

To purchase Finding Peter Vincent, please visit my bookstore.