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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'Is this really the place?' I said, eyeing the high walls and imposing-looking gates of the address Sébastien had provided.
'Apparently so,' Michael replied, his voice tight and clipped.
Since we'd discovered that the others had been taken, any sense of familiarity and loss of tension between us had been all but eradicated, as Michael had slipped back into the cold, distant character I had first met, albeit without the arrogant cockiness.
As dawn had been approaching when we'd arrived in Seasalter, we'd had no choice but to hunker down behind closed shutters as daylight drenched the cottage and Michael's mood had me fighting the urge to fling open a door and run down to the beach just so I could feel the endless expanse of air around me. Like a caged animal, he'd paced the cottage, hardly slept a wink and had barely spoken a word after he'd declared all-out war on Sébastien Dufort.
Of course, I couldn't help but feel naturally responsible. Sébastien was a sly, manipulative arsehole, who'd agreed to help Michael for his own selfish means, and yes, everyone had known he wasn't to be trusted, but that didn't stop me from wishing I could dig a hole, throw myself into a coffin and close the lid. If I'd told Michael immediately after the bathroom incident, then maybe – just maybe – Sébastien wouldn't have had the chance to enact his plan. Instead, feeling desperate and alone and scared, I'd kept it to myself and sealed their fate, when I should have realised that I wasn't alone at all.
I'd not lied when I'd told Maz I wasn't a people person, but I knew I was going to have to learn, and quickly, if I was going to get through all this without screwing everything up again.
Parked in front of the gated entrance, I studied the metal plaque fixed to the wall, etched with the words Hexton Manor Residential Care Home.
'But, a vampire, living in a retirement home?' I pondered, wrinkling my brow in doubt. 'I mean, I know he's technically retired from the Vampire Council, but he'd be the longest living resident in this place. Surely at some point, they're going to wonder why he hasn't... you know...' I made a slicing gesture across my throat and grimaced.
Michael didn't even crack a glimmer of a smile at my pathetic attempt at humour, not that I could blame him. There wasn't even a sniff of comedy to be found in this whole fucked up mess.
'I guess there's only one way to find out,' he said, reaching out through the open window and pressing the buzzer.
We'd left Seasalter just after sunset and made the journey in just shy of two hours, with Michael keeping his foot pressed to the gas in a way that had me gripping the side of the passenger seat and praying to every god ever created that he didn't kill us both along the way. Now, it was reaching eight o'clock in the evening and out here in rural Hertfordshire, night already weighed heavy all around us, as if the indigo skies sought to press us deep into the earth. I shrank back into my seat, feeling a prickle on my neck that had very little to do with my vampire companion and everything to do with the ominous sensation creeping under my skin.
