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“From what I gather, it’s not that simple.” Adam’s voice was low, and I shifted closer, pressing my body against the wall to hear. They could only be talking about Murray.

“How much simpler could it be?” Wyatt sneered, “Thevânatorconfirmed it, did she not?”

I frowned, not recognising the term – the way she pronounced it, with a strange accent, it almost sounded like ‘hunter’.

“Izzie, I need you to listen – Nick is not that man anymore. We both know it’s true, regardless of whatever grudge you’ve been holding against him for the better part of the century. Erin said—”

“I shall not suffer the excuses he gave her, Adam. Truly, I am surprised Erin did not kill him where he stood.” It sounded like she was pacing the kitchen. “But you know it couldn’t be anyone else. The deaths… they were identical. Far too exacting for another to have imitated.”

“It isn’t beyond the realm of possibility he’s told someone the details, Izzie. Be reasonable. You yourself said the flowers might not be—” Adam sounded exasperated, and cut himself off, but I was glad he was talking sense. “What do you propose to do? Kill him? You are supposed to be his friend.”

Wyatt sighed loudly, and her footsteps grew louder. “I may have to. Thevânatordoes not seem capable, particularly if she has already succumbed – and I can’t continue to allow him to draw such attention to himself.”

“Your kind has never been subtle,” he pointed out.

“Then they must learn to be,” she snapped back.

I backed away from the door hastily as her footsteps grew closer, sprinting and sliding down the hallway.So much for keeping quiet.

My mind was racing through the implications of what I’d heard, but mostly I was pissed that I’d let myself fall asleep in a bloody vampire’s house. I was lucky to be alive.

I’d almost finished lacing up my boots when Adam spoke quietly over my shoulder, his aroma of orange and clovesannouncing his arrival before he said a word. I took a deep breath.

“Can I assume you caught some of that?”

“You can,” I said, trying and failing to keep my voice neutral. “Fuck, Adam, I can’t believe you let me stay here, in her house!”

“Actually, Locke Manor is mine.” He extended his hand, examining his fingernails without looking at me. “I have allowed Izzie to stay here temporarily because I believe it is better to keep an eye on her.”

I let out a short laugh, opening the front door. “She’s not under anyone’s control, Adam. Don’t fool yourself. She’s still a murderer.”

I walked away without looking back, but Adam’s parting words carried across the crisp morning air without difficulty.

“Aren’t we all, these days?”

12: Can the Devil Speak True?

The entire drive back I was on edge – partly due to what I’d overheard, but also because it hadn’t been that long ago I’d been drunk enough to fall asleep in a stranger’s house. The last thing I needed was to be pulled for drunk driving.

A weak winter dawn struggled through lingering clouds, the streetlamps still reflecting off the dirty slush. Morning mist rose from where the snow was already melting against the warm stone buildings. Jolt’s windows were dark against the grudging daylight when I pulled up just down the street. Once inside, a quick glance at the calendar confirmed what I already knew – Tom wasn’t scheduled to work, so I wouldn’t have to explain the state I was in.

In the back room, I took a moment to tidy myself up. The tiny porcelain sink was barely functional, but the cold ceramic beneath my hands and the icy water I splashed on my face helped bring me back to reality a little.

I wasn’t particularly hungover, but I still felt like hell, and a glance in the mirror told me I looked like it, too. The bruisingunder my eye had almost faded, the faint dusting of freckles across my cheekbones visible once more – but the dark circles under my eyes hadn’t improved much. If anything, they were worse. With a sigh, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and grabbed a spare from my satchel – the perks of being used to finding blood on my clothes – and wriggled into it. My make-up bag fell out as I did so, and I caught it before my limited supplies shattered all over the tiled floor. I didn’t wear much, day-to-day, but if any time ever called for a good concealer and a bit of blush, today was it.

The once simple and now kind of harried job of prepping for opening went smoothly enough, even doing it alone. I absentmindedly switched on machines, opened bags, and retrieved the pastry delivery from the back doorstep.

Adam’s parting words were still ringing in my ears as I artfully arranged croissants and brownies behind the glass display, and honestly, it was making me uncomfortable. For the first time since I’d confessed what I was to Jonathan all those years ago, my mind was actually stalling on the subject of what I did. At what being a hunter really was.

‘Aren’t we all, these days?’ That was what he’d said. All murderers. And maybe he wasn’t talking about me, but the thought was stuck in my head anyway.

Until recently, I’d always had this unshakeable conviction that there was no such thing as a good, honest vamp – that it just wasn’t possible. Solace was probably the closest to amenable I’d come across, and she was still a total pain in my arse.

I splashed a little milk into a steel jug and shoved thesteaming wand in with far more aggression than was necessary, waiting for my double espresso shot. There was no way I was going to sit here until opening contemplating morality without a good half pint of caffeine pumping through me.

I tapped my foot against the unit below the sink, worsening the scuffs that were already there. How was I supposed to focus on such a convoluted concept when my instincts sent such a clear message? When I came across one, it repulsed me. My body reacted on a visceral level, and it wasn’t pleasant – so excuse me if I didn’t sit around assessing what the right thing to do was. Yes, I justreacted.

If I wanted to be effective at my job, that was the only way. I mean, it’s not like there were hunters popping up all over to help me out – I’d never met anyone else who had my capabilities or did what I did. Though to be fair, most places I’d spent time in over the years didn’t have a vampire population as large as Sheffield did, either. I figured it was the hills that did it – drawing out the nights and shortening the days, since the sun took longer to rise in parts of the city.