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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The view from the terrace of Sébastien's private nightclub allowed some blessed respite from my troubles, the landscape stretching out across the prestigious neighbourhoods of the sixteenth arrondissement of Paris, all the way to the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
Dawn was growing near, and I wondered what the new day would bring for all the Parisians and tourists, about to begin their adventures in the famed City of Love. I was pretty certain their day wouldn't involve family bombshells that could rank on the Richter scale, vanishing billionaire fathers or vampire Elders intent on hunting them down as an act of revenge for simply existing.
There had been times, admittedly, during self-exile inside my cottage in the middle of nowhere, that I'd hoped for something more – something to take the edge off the boredom and loneliness, but this had never once been on my bucket list of Things to Achieve Before I Hit Twenty-Five.
It was one thing to know that you were Vampire Enemy Number One, but when that enemy happened to be a love-crazed, jealous and powerful vampire who now sat at the head of the Vampire Council, suddenly boredom and loneliness didn't seem quite so bad.
'Sarah?' Sébastien's soft tone dragged me from getting lost in the Paris panorama. 'Excuse my intrusion, may I join you?'
'It's your home,' I said, with a shrug, before glancing at the horizon. 'Although, it's close to sunrise. Are you sure that you should?'
The vampire smiled; his eyes warm. 'And are you sure that a Sensor should care so much whether a vampire strays too close to the daylight?'
I withdrew, seeing the faces of my mother and grandmother and instantly feeling the sting of shame. 'I never said I cared.' I sniffed. 'I just don't think I'd care much for the stench of burnt vampire. Probably take forever to wash out of these clothes, and besides, I just borrowed them, they're not mine.'
'Hmm,' Sébastien replied, his gaze running over my form in a way that told me he was not just studying my outfit. 'I did not think this style seemed quite right for you.'
'No?'
'Non,' he said, his eyes meeting mine with a devilish spark. 'You would look much better draped in something French.'
Right. Right. I exhaled, feeling the blood rush to my face in a flash of unwelcome heat.
On the horizon, the darkened skies were fading to a bruised violet, the night's last curtain call before daylight crept into the early hours. Sébastien surprised me by walking to the balcony edge where I stood, looking towards the encroaching light. At first, I would have marked it as a challenge – the great Parisian leader's refusal to show fear in the face of the sunrise – until I saw the wistful softness of his gaze.
'You miss it, don't you? The sunrise?'
He smiled but continued to look at the muted light. 'Sunrise. Sunset. Everything in between. Sometimes, the loss is... indescribable.' His eyes found mine. 'You are surprised to hear this.'
