When Sarah Solomon took refuge in an old cottage in the woods, she knew it would only be a matter of time before the monsters came a' calling.
Cursed with a power she neither wants, nor knows how to harness, Sarah has become a target, but who is he...
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'I lied to you,' Michael said.
No shit, Sherlock.
I bit down on the urge to spit sarcasm at him, too intrigued – and a little terrified – to hear what he had to say.
'I told you that I'd wanted to discover the mystery about the Sensor who'd killed Luther Baines, and I suppose that was partly true, but I did have an ulterior motive.'
He was back at the table again, this time, more pensive than angry, but he still wouldn't look directly at me as he spoke. This was nothing like the vampire I'd had tied to my bed just a few hours ago. The cold looks and snarky quips were gone, replaced by someone who seemed far less sure of himself. Whatever story he had to tell, he wanted to bury it no doubt as he wished he could bury me.
'The whole Luther Baines thing wasn't what you thought it was.'
I'd always known I'd struggle to escape what had happened under the streets of Westminster, but I now had a feeling the vampire's name would haunt me until after I was long dead.
'I don't understand?' I said.
Michael shot a glance to Maz, who nodded encouragingly in response.
'There were rumours, after you... well, after his death. Rumours about why you ended up there in the first place.'
I saw Gran's face then. Eyes wide. Her throat torn open. Tears barely dry on her cheeks.
'I was there because his vampires killed my grandmother. They tortured her in her bed and left her body there for me to find,' I said, feeling the anger swell as I clenched my fists and tried to keep my voice steady. 'I was there because I wouldn't let Luther scare me off, I suppose.'
Michael shook his head. 'That's not why you were there. And those vampires who killed your grandmother weren't from Luther's den.'
I stiffened. 'But that's not true. I traced them back to Westminster. They were Luther's. I mean, he said they weren't but of course, he was going to say that.'
'Luther was telling the truth,' Michael replied. 'If Luther ever ordered a hit, trust me, he was never shy about owning it. Why would he? It would only help boost his reputation. We think the ones who killed your grandmother were sent by the Council and they purposely led you back to Luther.'
My heart thudded hard in my chest. Dame shot a sharp look my way, no doubt picking up on the thrumming beat.
'Why would they do that?' My head pounded at the thought of it. 'I didn't even know the Vampire Council existed until tonight.'
'About a month after Luther's death, Dame here was at an underground vamp-run bar over in Shoreditch. He got talking to a guy, who was half on his way to getting totally wrecked. A few more drinks down the line and the guy starts shooting his mouth off, talking shit about Luther and how he should have been more discreet. Saying that Luther was looking into stuff he had no business sticking his nose into. Even more drinks and a night with Dame, and the pillow talk takes a surprising turn. This guy says he was paid by the Elders to target a rogue Sensor, and to set Luther up as the brains behind the hit.'
