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All of this went through his head in less than a second. And she was already yapping away again.

“You know – the big finale. And if it helps you die happy – you hate Murray, right? He’ll be gone, soon enough.” She took another step toward him, close enough to touch. “He has to play his part, of course, but… he’ll be dead before you know it. I’m just going to play with him, first.”

Tom slid his arm behind his back, dropping the dagger down from his sleeve and catching it by the handle, the way he’d practised it a thousand times with Jon.

“And me?” He took a step back, but she stepped forward in time with him.

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Well, I’m a vampire, Tommy—” She was holding his throat between her hands, squeezing, and he hadn’t even seen her move. “I plan to have a taste—”

His training kicked in before his brain could catch up. The blade was already moving as her eyes closed, her split second of pleasure giving him the only opening he’d get. The mottled metal caught the streetlight as he swung it up into the pale flesh of her wrist – and fuck, the resistance as it hit bone was nothing like practising with Jon’s test dummies. But physics was physics, and momentum did the rest. Her lifeless hand fell to the ground with a muffled thud.

Her shriek hit a frequency that made Tom’s teeth ache – well outside normal human range. His brain catalogued that detail automatically, even as every survival instinct screamed at him to run.

She staggered back, fixated on the stump of her arm. Tom had heard vampires make some fucking awful sounds before, but this… shit. He scrambled backward, nearly losing his footing in the bloodied snow, the blade still raised between them like it would do him any good.

“You!” She lurched toward him, all pretence of beauty shattered. Then, with a sound that was pure animal fury, she vanished – gone before Tom’s mind could even process the movement. Her severed hand lay in the snow, fingers still twitching.

???

The hand lay in a growing pool of dark blood, staining the white snow crimson. Tom’s own hands moved on autopilot – cleaning his blade, wrapping the evidence in his hoodie – while his mind struggled to process the impossible thing he’d justdone. Pulling his jacket back on against the icy air and hastily knotting his scarf, he set off walking.

When he reached the main road, he flagged down the first taxi he saw and rattled off an address on the other side of the city – somewhere he’d never even been. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking as he slumped into the backseat, his heart starting to race again as the reality of what he’d just survived hit him properly.

Watching the buildings rush by the window, Tom pulled out his phone and called Erin. This was more important than their argument, he knew that much. The vamp whose hand was now residing in his backpack had not been Isabel – but the imposter’s words had told him enough to suspect his friend was in imminent danger. Murray getting his fangs into her still made him want to punch something, but after the last half hour… shit. He probably needed to suck it up and trust Isabel. She, at least, had done nothing to personally offend him.

Erin didn’t answer. The irony wasn’t lost on him, given how many of her calls he’d screened lately. But this time it was urgent.

“Fuck,” he said aloud. She must still be pissed. He checked the clock before stuffing the phone back into his jeans, wondering where the time had gone. Dawn was still a way off – the vampires should be awake.

The taxi pulled up outside the manor house, and Tom threw a twenty at the driver without waiting for his change. He strode through the open gates and up the gravel drive, but found himself hesitating at the doorbell. Holy shit, the place was massive. Like something out of a Jane Austen adaptation.

It didn’t feel right to be here without Erin. But then, what else could he do? He’d tried to contact her.Maybe she’d answer the phone if it was her bloodsucking boyfriend calling, he thought bitterly, jabbing the bell and hammering on the door without waiting for an answer.

A chime rang somewhere deep in the house. Seconds later, light spilled across the ground as someone twitched back a curtain upstairs. Tom backed off the doorstep, waving his arms. The door opened almost immediately.

“Tom.” Isabel’s clear voice cut through the chill, nothing like that of her doppelgänger. “Where’s Erin?”

“I called her, she didn’t pick up.” Tom shifted his weight, the backpack suddenly heavy against his spine. “Can I come in?”

Isabel’s nostrils flared delicately as she lifted her chin. Her head cocked to one side, reminding Tom of a sparrow. “What do you have in your bag?”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about.” He glanced over his shoulder, fighting the urge to check if he’d been followed. “Would you please let me in? Some of us still feel the cold, you know.”

“Of course.” Isabel stepped back from the door, her dark eyes never leaving the bag.

Tom followed her into the hallway, momentarily stunned by the sheer size of it. Bloody hell – his entire flat would fit in this one room.

“Let me show you into the kitchen, and I will call Adam down to join us.” Her eyes flicked across him and she smiled. “I am sure you would feel safer with a more…humanwitness.”

“Where’s Murray?” Tom asked, his wet boots squeaking against the polished floor as he followed her.

“Have I ever professed to be his keeper?” Isabel drawled, pushing through a heavy door.

The kitchen hit him with a wall of warmth. Dark cabinets stretched to the ceiling, handles gleaming against the wood. Steam curled from an abandoned mug of tea on the counter, Earl Grey mixing with vanilla in the air. The copper pans hanging in gleaming rows above the range made his throat tight – it was exactly the kind of kitchen his mum would have loved. The last thing he’d expected in a vampire’s lair.

Adam appeared in the doorway. “Tom,” he smiled, drawing out a stool. “Rather unexpected, I must say. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tom dropped his backpack on the counter and took a deliberate step back. His heart had finally stopped racing, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to open it.