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'No –'

'You should. We have a lot of fun here.' He sat on a sofa that looked and smelled like it had come straight from the junk heap. I glanced back at the door; I thought I could hear something moving outside.

'What's out there?'

He laughed again, obviously unconcerned. Had it been my imagination, or had I misread the situation? Perhaps the girl had moved herself. But as soon as I thought it, I couldn't believe it was true. I tried to put it out of my mind; there was too much risk closer to hand.

'I'm looking for someone –'

'Everyone's looking for someone in the Haight. Or something.'

The room had a familiar fragrant smell that just about masked the unpleasant odour of sweat. On the coffee table in front of him were plastic bags full of grass, a large sticky block of hash and a set of brass scales. He saw me looking and flicked open a large switchblade, which he rammed into the hash. 'Sit.' He nodded to an armchair lolling on three legs.

I could understand why people had been afraid to come. Everything about him said that nothing was beyond him. I'd seen his type before, drawn to the freedoms of our movement, but not accepting any of the responsibilities. Most of them were Just petty thieves or users, but at

least they had some scruples. I could see the Goblin had none.

'My boyfriend's missing.' I sat primly in the centre of the chair; I didn't like the way he was looking at me.

'You want to trip?' He held out a handful of pills. 'It's cool. They're Owsley.'

'Are you selling the Blue Moonbeams?' It was a stupid question to ask; I should have known better than to discuss his business so openly.

But instead of getting angry, he only sneered. 'They'll never push me off the streets. Dumping that shit like there's no tomorrow. It's poison. I don't know what that witch, Mathilda, has got to do with it, but she's in there. They're offloading it cheap, but you'd have to be crazy to touch it. Kids are dying – they'll get the message sooner or later.' His eyes narrowed. 'Why do you want to know about that?'

'Because my boyfriend might be one of the kids who died.' There, I'd said it. I took Denny's picture out of my pocket. 'Someone said they saw him coming here.'

This did anger him. 'Who's talking out of class?' The vehemence in his voice scared me.

'I don't know their name. I was just showing the picture around town,' I lied.

The Goblin seethed for a moment and began to stuff a bag full of grass from a box on the floor. He seemed unbalanced, his reactions unguessable. Too many drugs, I thought. Too much violence.

'Have you seen him?' I pressed tentatively.

'Yeah, he's here.'

My heart leapt; I couldn't believe what I was hearing. 'He is?'

'Yeah. He needed a place to crash. He's sleeping right now.' He nodded towards a closed door to what I guessed was the bedroom.

I didn't wait, couldn't wait. I was through the door before the Goblin had stood up. The room was dark and it took my eyes a while to adjust, but the smell of stale sweat was even more pungent. When I finally made out the shapes of the mattress on the floor and a few other minimal pieces of furniture, I could feel the Goblin's hot breath on the back of my neck.

'Denny?' I said tentatively.

The Goblin shoved me roughly so I sprawled on the mattress. 'Hey!' I said, before realising the bed was empty. My hand closed around a discarded piece of clothing. Something rattled near my arm. Manacles, fixed to the wall above the bed. The mattress itself was bare and covered with dried brown stains that I knew were blood.

I rolled over, ready to run. The Goblin was silhouetted in the doorway, and even though I couldn't see his face I could tell he was grinning. He'd retrieved the switchblade from the hash.

'I'm not interested.' My heart was thumping, adrenaline driving round my system.

'Free love, baby. That's what we're about.' He undid the button on his trousers and slowly slid the zipper down.

'No,' I said firmly.

He smiled, like