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“Oh?” I took a sip from my glass of wine to avoid answering and quickly regretted it. I’d never been a fan of red wine.

“Yes. Did he tell you much of our family history?” he asked.

I swallowed with difficulty before I replied. “He said you’d moved to Scotland when he was a kid. That you’d had a falling out with his dad.”

Tom poured himself another drink as he sat back down. He shot me a glare that told me to keep my mouth shut. Jim, however, didn’t seem to mind.

“Family can be complicated,” he said.

“Too right,” Tom muttered, more to his wineglass than to either of us. “Sometimes the distance is better for everyone.”

Jim gave him a piercing look. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

Tom shrugged, suddenly fascinated by a bit of pasta sauce on the table. “Let’s just say my parents had very specific expectations for their only son. History and literature weren’t on the list. Neither was opening a coffee shop.” He gave a short,humourless laugh. “The last proper conversation we had, my dad told me I was throwing away generations of tradition for, and I quote, ‘serving fancy drinks to hipsters.’”

I’d heard this story before, though Tom didn’t bring his family up much these days. It was a definite sore spot.

“Hmm,” Jim said quietly. “Following your own path takes courage. If only I’d understood that sooner.” He sighed. “There was a row over something with Jonathan’s father – unimportant now, of course. I regret to say I missed out on knowing my nephew because of it.”

“Jon was excited to meet you, though,” I interrupted his reverie, trying to lighten the mood. “He wouldn’t shut up about your research into the family tree.”

Jim nodded. “I’ve devoted my life to the pursuit of history, though what good it will do now there’s no one to carry on the line, I can’t say.”

“You don’t have kids?” Tom asked.

“No. I never considered settling down to be an option until it was too late, really. The time for romance has been and gone.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have my work, though – and my greenhouse and such. I get along.”

“Jon wanted kids,” I said through the veil of fuzziness settling over my mind. “Three or four. He said the world would stay a horrid place until we put nicer people in it.”

Tom and Jim stared at me in silence, Tom with sadness and Jim with something like calculation. I blinked, and it was gone.

“I can’t understand it. Why would a young man with such ambition want to take his own life? It’s a terrible thing,” Jim saidfinally, smoothing the napkin on his lap.

Tom and I shared a look. This was the moment I’d been dreading, but I couldn’t lie. It wasn’t fair.

“Anyone for dessert?” Tom asked, standing up. I nodded, and Jim relaxed, confirming dessert would be lovely.

I tried to change the subject at every opportunity after that. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice, and before I knew it, the evening was over, and Jim was pulling on his coat. I stayed at the kitchen table, massaging my temples while Tom hovered in the hallway with him, talking in undertones.

The door clicked shut, and Tom came back through. “The funeral is next Thursday.”

I nodded and stood to clear the plates. With Tom helping, the washing up didn’t take long – despite him having used every bloody dish in the house. While we worked, he filled me in on his chosen music. They all seemed like obvious choices, but if I was honest with myself, Jon would have understood that his funeral wasn’t really for him. It was for those of us left behind – and most of the guests would probably be opposed to some of his heavier favourites.

As he was pulling on his coat to leave, Tom turned. “You hunting tonight?”

He hadn’t mentioned the morgue again, and I’d followed his lead.

“I’ll do a quick sweep, but I’ve had too much wine for much else.” I rubbed my arms, already cold at the idea of coming back to an empty house.

Tom barked a quick laugh. “Fair enough. Just be careful, yeah?”

Closing the door behind him, I bounded up the stairs. I couldn’t get out of my uncomfortable dress fast enough, the fitted black jumper and combat jeans I pulled on were far more my style. Folding the roll neck down and loosening my hair, I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror as I left the room – a cold-weather assassin. That was the plan, anyway.

4: Tall, Dark and Scottish

Standing on the front doorstep, every surface glistened with a fragile frost in the moonlight. I took a slow breath and looked upward, past the stark white of the streetlights and the city, stamping my feet to get the blood flowing. A scattering of stars winked in and out of existence, barely visible despite the clear night. The air held the sharp, clean scent of ice, and I wondered whether we’d see snow soon as I set off along the shimmering pavement. Before I reached the end of the street, the fog of wine had begun to recede, replaced instead by a bone-deep cold.

Without much thought for where I was going, I headed toward a nearby park, casting my senses out into the night before me. It was a strange sensation, to pick up on points of light and warmth in some unknown part of my mind, but I’d long grown used to it. It was easy to tune the humdrum out – at least, at times like now, when there was no sign of anything more sinister. Other times I’d get a vibe about something kinky the neighbours were up to, and nothing on earth could help me shut that shit down, no matter how hard I tried.