Selene was shaken awake, not roughly, but insistently. The room was dark, fractured only by the small candle Harland held that flickered in her face.
"It's time to go," he whispered. His eyes shone like liquid globes in the flame-light. "Get up."
She shrugged the sheet off and stepped out on the cold floor, peeling herself from Jackie's body as she did so. She was still wearing her white dress, which had softened with the crumpling of sleep.
She lifted the hem of the fabric in both hands and stepped over Curtis, who lay in his usual spot, snoring on the floor.
"You'll get wet again, in the sewer, but it should have dried by the time we make it to Cadogan Place," he hissed.
"I can pin it up," she said, pondering how best to do so. She decided upon tying it to her bra straps and hoping for the best. Now was not the time to maintain one's decency, as Jackie had been all too ready to demonstrate. She began to hitch it up to her shoulders and fix it under the collar of her dress. It was secure enough, for the moment.
Harland tiptoed into the sitting room and lifted a gun, which he slung over his shoulder, and fixed a cartridge belt full of wooden bullets around his waist. He slipped a knife into his boot.
"If the Vampires hadn't taken over we would have far more advanced weaponry by now. They've never really been interested in technology."
Selene raised her eyes in agreement, although the comment wasn't really for her benefit. She watched as Harland fixed some handcuffs and rope to his belt: for her, no doubt, when they arrived. The means of making a damsel in distress.
She watched as his muscular back exited the hide-out, and she followed, stepping into the trickling river of sewage which became a flood. She didn't feel safe with this man; she didn't trust him, but with every step she knew she was getting closer to Hector. And she knew, beyond any imaginable doubt, that he, Hector, cared for her, and that he wanted her alive, whatever he chose to do to her afterwards.
Her shoes, once white and now a dark rust colour, splashed in the sewage, the satin absorbing the filth once more. She thought of Veronica, stitching her costume together by the light of a feeble angle-poise lamp. What were they doing now at Stanley Hall, with no dancers?
Harland's candle was the only light they had to see by, but the journey wasn't long, so the wax would last before it trickled over his hand and dripped into the sewage below. He held it above his head and let the light penetrate the dark tunnel, and Selene followed without question.
"Are you alright?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder so briefly he couldn't possibly have made out her face in the blackness of the tunnel. His candle-light would have blinded him to what lay behind.
"Yes. Keep going."
*
Walking through sewage seemed to take forever, and when they finally came to surface, through a drain in a backstreet of Belgravia, Selene was sure she was about to feel the midday sun on her face. But she didn't; the sun was barely creeping upwards, and the western sky was still a dusky blue, chasing night over the horizon. Even a star or two were still visible in the fabric of a dying darkness.
Selene released the hem of her dress from where is was caught up at her shoulders, despite the fact that her shoes and stockings were soaking.
"I'm sorry," said Harland, as he watched the satin fall to the ground.
"It's not important."
He nodded his approval and led the way towards Cadogan Place. The streets were empty; the sun had scared the Vampires into hiding, and the Sunlight Guard had not yet taken their place on the streets. For a short while they were safe to walk.
Selene felt as though she had been gone for years as she looked at the familiar buildings, feeling as though she must have been forgotten entirely. She had betrayed them all, and chosen an underground sewer instead. The contrast made her want to laugh, but she didn't want Harland to think she was crazy, so she swallowed her humour like a gobstopper, waiting for it to dissolve so she could swallow every colour of it.
"Remember he is evil Selene. I know he cared for you your entire life, and took you into his home. But think of all the humans who have suffered due to him and his brother. Don't forget that when you see his face. What's left of it anyway."
Selene felt a ripple down her back, as though her dress would tear and expose her true feelings. But what did she feel? She felt the thoughts swirl in her head like race cars on an endless track, crashing against her skull on a tight corner. Hector was familiar, reassuring. But evil? She couldn't believe he was evil. She couldn't believe the stories of Epershand. Human slaves, forced into prostitution? Children, men, women? If it were true there had to be an explanation; Hector surely wouldn't partake in such cruelty for no reason. And yet her anticipation was tainted with fear and apprehension, pulling at the edges of her false composure like children's tiresome hands.
Selene shook her head and looked at the fading moon. Nothing was as simple as it had seemed when she was a dancer.
She followed Harland past neat terraced houses, painted white with columns and steps and black railings. This area of London was unchanged from human times, and she wondered what it would have been like to live here hundreds of years ago, before the Vampires took over.
"Which one is it?" Harland asked as they turned down Pont Street.
"Turn left, and go nearly to the end." She ran behind him and scanned the houses, which were still decorated for the ceremonial dance. "The one with the lights out, and no poster of me," she said, feeling a deep stab of guilt in her gut when she noticed that the decorative lights had been turned off.
"OK. Which room are we aiming for?"
"The one directly above the middle porch, with the light on." Selene could see the light peeking through the gaps in the curtain in Hector's room, and wondered why he was awake at this time of day. He should be sleeping, or at least trying to sleep.
"Easy. We can climb on the porch. He has even left the window open. How considerate." Harland's words were inflated with excitement, and Selene could barely stand to listen to them. In that room was a man, or rather a Vampire, that cared for her. And they were about to taunt him, torture him. She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to release the guilt that clung to her skin.
They crept along the street until they were outside the house, where they stopped and looked up at the porch.
"It's not even that high. I'll get up first, and pull you up after me. Ok?"
Before Selene even had time to respond Harland was clinging to the column and hopping his body upwards in an ungainly fashion. Then he hauled himself onto the porch and stretched his arms above his head before leaning down and encouraging Selene.
"I can't do it!" She hissed.
"Of course you can. Just stand on that, there," he said, pointing to a planter that sat at the base of the column. She stepped up on it, holding her dress up with one hand. She wobbled, waiting for him to tell her what to do. "Ok, reach up. I've got you," he said, pulling her up and over onto the porch.
Selene felt her dress rise up, but she didn't have time to be embarrassed as she clambered onto the tiny balcony above the porch.
Once she was safely up, Harland turned and poked his head through the window, pressing his eye to the gap between the curtains.
"He's alone, and it looks like he's sleeping. Here, let me tie you up." Harland grabbed her hands and clasped them in the handcuffs behind her back. Selene heard the metal clip into place around her wrists, and felt the discomfort of being pinned in position.
"I can't climb in like this," she said.
"I'll lift you.It'll be fine," said Harland, who was now kneeling at her feet, tying cord around her ankles. "It has to be convincing."
He stood up and surveyed his handiwork, his head cocked to one side.
"You look quite the part," he said, and smiled. "We don't have much time. Are you ready?"
Selene nodded, and Harland hurled the window open, and it rolled upwards with a sound like a lion's roar. Seconds later Selene felt Harland's broad arms around her waist, lifting her and bending her through the window, forcing her into the room, where her head caught the thick fabric of the curtain and caused it to billow like a gale force wind.