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“I won’t let you.” I twisted my hands behind me, trying to loosen the plastic ties. My skin, already sore from my struggling, finally broke.

She stiffened, her nostrils flaring as the scent of my blood reached her.

“We’ll see,” she spat, spinning on one foot as she left.

“Nicholas?” I called after a moment of silence.

“Just kill me.” His voice was barely there, strained with pain.

“No,” I choked. “Isabel will come. And Adam. We’re all in this together now. That was the plan, remember?”

“The sun’s coming. I can feel it. They won’t reach us in time.”

Something was wrong with his voice – the charm, the fire that made him Nicholas was missing. As he spoke, the petroleum odour grew stronger again.

“Adam will,” I insisted, almost to myself. “Adam will find us, and when it’s dark, he’ll get Isabel. We’ll get out of here.”

He didn’t reply. The chemical smell was overwhelming now, seeping through a grate behind me. My head grew heavy, thoughts turning sluggish.

“We can get out of this,” I mumbled, as consciousness slipped away.

30: Checkmate

Tom threw himself from the car almost before Isabel had time to slam on the brakes, but the vamp was quicker still. She was at the door and up the stairs before Tom could blink.

“I can honestly say I’ve never seen Isabel quite so… harried,” Adam observed, straightening his jacket as he unfolded from the back seat and looked up at the house.

“Good. I need them both on their game if she’s…” Tom trailed off, following her inside and taking the stairs two at a time. He didn’t want to think about the end of that sentence.

Everything was cold and dark inside. It only took seconds to take in the obvious – no signs of forced entry, no scuff marks on the walls. Erin’s bedroom door stood ajar, her bedside lamp casting warm yellow light across the landing.

Murray sat on the corner of her bed, shoulders hunched, Erin’s red sheets twisted and thrown back beneath him. One hand was knotted in his hair, the other hung loosely, clutching a crumpled piece of notepaper. Isabel moved toward him, and Tom noticed the sense of urgency in the room seemed to have… disappeared, like smoke.

“What does it say?” Isabel’s voice held a sharp edge as she extended her hand. He passed it to her silently.

Tom turned away, scanning the room instead. Everything looked normal enough – except the bed frame. The headboard had a new, jagged split running along its wooden edge, as though something – or someone – had been slammed against it with tremendous force. Behind it, a section of plaster on the wall had cracked and chipped, leaving a pale wound in the otherwise pristine paint. His jaw clenched. If it was Murray’s doing, he might have to fucking kill him himself. But if it wasn’t… well, that was even worse.

The sash window was wide open – impossible, given Erin had painted it closed two years ago. A breeze blew the curtains lazily, and the outside air did nothing to dissipate the odd smell of petrol. Her laptop lay on the floor by the bed, its standby light flashing. Erin wouldn’t have left it like this, much less running. Not if she’d left willingly.

“‘Checkmate.’” Adam read, looking at the note over Isabel’s shoulder. He glanced at Tom, who was tugging down the ladder to the attic with difficulty.

“Erin?” he called up the steps. Silence.

“She’s no there, Tom.”

“But look at this place,” Tom insisted, climbing up anyway. “She gets crazy about me not putting things away when I’m here—”

He squinted up through the trapdoor. The attic was as dark and empty as the rest of the house – and undisturbed. Thelargest, east-facing window was beginning to show the earliest dawn light, the sky a deep, undisturbed blue. Tom dropped back down to the bedroom below.

Isabel hadn’t moved a muscle since taking the note, only the crease between her brows betraying thought. Adam was by the window, examining the frame with interest. Only Murray, in Tom’s opinion, was reacting appropriately. His dark eyes met Tom’s across the room, vacant and unseeing.

“We have to leave, Nick. The sun rises,” Isabel broke the silence, her words clipped.

“You can’t just… fuck off and sleep through the day and do nothing!” Tom’s voice cracked.

“Do you have another suggestion, lad?” Nicholas asked dully.

“This.” Isabel smoothed the note on Erin’s dressing table. “You are the better tracker. What do you make of it?”