An Introduction to Elgar Nightshade

Hey, let me introduce myself. My name is Elgar, Elgar Nightshade. I was born in Worcester in 1984, and that's when it starts to get weird.

God only knows who my parents are. Apparently they went to the hospital in a rush, and before the staff could ask any questions, they were gone. But I wasn't. I was left behind in a cold, isolated ward. Thankfully it didn't take any time at all for a doctor to notice me. They must have put me in the children's ward for the night, but I don't remember any of that. I don't even remember what must have been my short stay at an orphanage. The memories that last with me to this day began in hell on earth: the residence of Jonathon and Mary-Anne Ironbridge.

John and Mary weren't the worst people I've ever met in my life - I've met cultists and demons - but damn it, did it feel like they were trying to earn that title a lot of the time. When you adopt a child, you need to learn to love it and respect it like one of your own. That's not what John and Mary did. Oh God no. They treated me like a circus animal, not a human being; they took inhuman advantage of what they saw as an indispensible opportunity for them - they were a entrepreneurial business couple, after all. They never locked me in a cage, but they did make me perform tricks in front of their friends. That wasn't too bad, but it was when they started charging people they didn't really know to have me show up at their kids' parties as some sort of cheap entertainment that it got much worse. To this day I can't fathom how two seemingly ordinary people could have done such a thing. Just before my 10th birthday, however, the authorities had clocked on to what was going on, and not long afterwards I was taken to a children's home.

Life wasn't always lonely for me. I remember when my adoptive parents went away and left me in the care of volunteers from Worcester Cathedral. That was when I met Reverend Allison. I don't know why he cared about me, but he did; he still does to this day. He nurtured any potential that he saw in me. I have had several problems from birth. For a start, I'm mute; you shouldn't need to be told how much of a setback that can be at times. I also lack little fingers, which can be surprisingly frustrating in certain situations. However, I also developed other problems. I was one of those annoyingly rare cases of a child being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and always felt ostracised because of it. I felt like a wreck, but Allison didn't care; he wasn't bothered in the slightest by any of my perceived 'hindrances' and 'problems'. For the first time in my life, I met somebody that made me feel human.

I went to listen to Allison on Sundays, as he stood in his pulpit and gave his sermon. I would sit quietly in a pew, listening intently to what he had to say. The first time I heard him talk about all of the non-material beings that existed in spiritual kingdoms, I remember wondering if my birth parents were such beings.

Allison is dyslexic, so I think he knows what it's like to have this inconspicuous barrier that just pops up at inconvenient times. Sometimes I'd hear rude congregation members snigger slightly when he was trying to read certain Bible passages and, well, not doing too well... I said that he nurtures me, but I like to think that I nurture him too. We found it difficult to converse with words, so oftentimes communicated using pictures instead. Allison taught me how to draw and how to paint, and he saw a flair for art in me. I loved visiting art exhibits. I would often write short analyses and critiques about the pieces that I had seen; I always wanted to know more about them. When I finally reached the point in my life where I had to start making decisions about higher education, Allison recommended that I look into art history. So it was that, after many years of contemplation and volunteer work, I took the art history route, at the University of Worcester of all places. I did well. It's just a shame that I never did anything to do with art history in the end...

I haven't been telling you the whole truth... What potential did Allison see? I'm not a normal human. I'm supernatural. I don't know what it is exactly, but I'm almost like, well, a ghost. I can walk round like your average Joe if I want to, but unlike your average Joe, I can turn incorporeal and invisible, and well, in the past few years, this has been the blessing - or curse - which has shaped my life.

After I graduated from university, I decided to treat myself to a nice long break in South Wales. Everything was going swimmingly until I decided to go to Swansea. I mean, Swansea isn't that bad, but fate just drew me to where I needed to be. I can still vividly remember that day: I can still see the children, I can still hear the speeding lorry, I can still feel the adrenalin pumping round my body, I can still feel my arms wrapping around those innocent children paralysed with fear, and I can still feel the strange sensation of that 15-tonne monster going straight through us. I can also still see his face, his eyes almost staring into my soul, inquiring as to how I could do that and what I was.

His name is Professor Schmidt, a kindly man who works for an organisation called the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence.

Now I find myself working for the BPRD.