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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Author's Note: T/W: This chapter contains references to self harm.
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'Are you sure it's safe to be back here?' I said, as the cab pulled up outside Michael's home. I eyed the Georgian style house with suspicion, as it waited, still and silent behind the electric gates.
The journey to St. Pancras on the Eurostar train had been uneventful, but that hadn't stopped me from flinching at every sound, every voice, and every time someone walked past where we'd sat. Michael had taken the aisle seat, a move he no doubt thought protective, but all I'd felt was cornered as Sébastien's cellphone and secret note burned like a veritable beacon inside my jean pocket.
Damn Dufort. How the Hell was I meant to explain to Michael how I ended up with the information he needed on the mysterious Montague Kerr? We'd left without it. Michael knew that. And yet, here I was with the very thing we'd travelled to Paris to obtain. To tell him, meant I had to confess I'd seen Sébastien and having failed to do just that after the bathroom encounter with our Parisian host and then over two hours spent on the train, I was running out of reasons why I hadn't been honest with him already.
'It's a damn sight safer than Paris, trust me,' Michael said, scanning the road regardless as he climbed out of the taxi. 'Besides, we won't be staying.' Waiting until the cab was out of sight, he punched in the gate code, and they whirred into action.
'Exactly how long are we going to be on the run for, thanks to the Sensor?' Dame said, winking at me as he swept past, all sarcasm and gold sequins. 'Enquiring minds need to know how many outfits we're going to need.'
Vincent shook his head. 'I have a feeling that whatever we say, you'll still be determined to pack three Louis Vuitton cases.'
Dame clucked, as we reached the front door. 'But what will I do with the fourth? Seems a pity to leave it home alone.'
'Damien, we're not going on a five-star cruise,' Michael said. 'We're trying to lay low until I can work out what to do next. Three LV cases full of clothes isn't exactly going to allow us to remain unnoticed.'
The vampire huffed as we went inside, quickly tapping out the security code on the alarm system, before heading for the stairs. 'Fine,' he said, rolling his eyes. 'Two it is then.'
Maz laughed as she watched him disappear to the first floor. 'You do realise he's probably not joking?' she said to Michael, who shrugged in response.
'I've learned he rarely jokes when it comes to fashion,' he said, before shooting me a glance as I stood huddled by the doorway, their natural, familiar conversation making the guilt bury under my skin a little deeper with each second. 'Get changed,' he said. 'You can clean up properly when we reach the safehouse.'
'Safehouse?' I said. 'I thought you said this place was safe?'
Bailey flounced past me, glaring daggers, as she followed Dame up the stairs. 'It was until you came along.'
