Here we go again, I thought. Might as well make myself comfortable.

I’ve no idea where I gained this power. It just kind of happened. I was biking down the Grey Lane, the rush of wind whipping my floppy this way and that, the bumpy road bouncing the bike on my backside almost painfully, and as I rounded a corner I screamed as I went headfirst into another biker.

My sight vanished, all went quiet, and for a moment my mind was a blank and empty vestibule of nothingness. Then it switched back on.

I tentatively took my arms away from my face that was still braced for the impact that never came.

There he was, the rider that I was certain I was going to crash headlong into and probably break my neck and leg and other bones. Except he was still. And so where his friends. Beside his were two still friends, above was a couple of birds suspended in flight.

I didn’t understand how, but around where me time stood still. No rustle or leaves, no gentle breeze. Even the dust kicked up by the bikes remained in the air looking scattered sand on glass.

That first time happened when I was 14, and now at 18 and enjoying myself at a party, I found myself stuck in time yet again. The smell of smoke and sweat remained in the air, spray of beer was suspended in mid-flight just like those birds had been all those years ago.

How long would I be stuck this time? I dyed my hair just two days ago to hide all the grey. If I was stuck like this as long as last time I’d be a white fox by the time time resumed.

I left Jason with his jeans around his ankles. Ellie was in for a vodka surprise. I switched the beer pong cups around to make for an entertaining trick shop, and I swapped the turkey in the fridge with the chicken.

I slept in Sasha’s bed, took four dumps in her toilet, and ended up eating the chicken thinking it was turkey. I hate turkey.

I was just about to take a bite out of my sandwich when I realised something was out of place. Leaving my sandwich on the table next to me I counted heads.

Eleven people. I counted again. Definitely eleven. But there should be twelve.

‘Missing someone?’

I spun round at the words, staring in disbelief. In the doorway leading out of the apartment she stood, leaning up against the frame at the other end of the room.

‘How are you...’ I began but couldn’t finish.

‘Back from the dead?

‘Wasn’t my first choice of words, but yeah,’ I said.

‘Listen, I need your help. We don’t have a lot of time because the Masters are going to get you back up and started soon. You need to come with. We’ve got a safehouse and Henry is waiti...’

It was beginning. Faint at first, it would grow and grow, a buzzing ache in my mind that would eventually engulf it before I the clocks began ticking again.

Jaime winced at the same moment as me. ‘Hurry,’ she said, coming and grabbing me by the arm. ‘We’ve got to be gone before they know you’re gone.’

I don’t know why, but I just knew I had to go with her. Jaime had been missing almost a year now, and clearly she experienced the same troublesome phenomenon I did. I had wanted answers for so long, and now maybe I would get them.

But who was Henry? And who for that matter are the Masters? And why did Jaime mentioning their name jog a memory in my mind that I had no recollection of ever experiencing?