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She seemed to notice I was watching her and smiled gently at me. “I confess, a part of me harboured hope that he mightn’t be involved. I know you’ve spoken with him about this matter, too.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She continued, “I am here to inform you that you have my support. Though I wish to remain indirectly involvedunless necessary.”

My chest tightened at the thought of it. Apparently, my heart still had some hope, too – no matter what my brain had agreed to.

“How can you be sure, Isabel?” I knew it was desperate, but I didn’t care. “Don’t you want to talk to him before you give a hunter the go-ahead?”

She gave me a shrewd look. “You do not know him as I do, Erin. Nick can be very persuasive – it has always been so. Were I to speak to him, I might lose all conviction.” She paused. “We must stop him to keep the secret, before—” She didn’t finish, as there was a crash from downstairs.

“What the—?” I jumped up, already out of the room and halfway down the stairs. Isabel was ahead of me – I barely saw her move.

“I’ve searched the house. There is no one else here,” she breathed. As she spoke, she jerked her head towards the front door, taking a slow, silent step closer before wrenching the handle open.

Bruised and bloody, Tom fell through the doorway onto the carpet with a heavy thud, barely conscious. Bloodstains darkened his khaki jacket around the shoulder and throat. What was visible of his face beneath the blood was swollen and already purpling on one side, the colour stark against his brown skin.

I crossed the hall in three strides, kneeling to support his head. Blood bubbled out of the corner of his mouth, and his eyelids fluttered. The metallic tang of copper grew stronger with each ragged breath he took, filling the small room until I couldtaste it. Isabel seemed to still completely, her nostrils flaring – the only sign that the scent affected her at all.

“He’s not dead,” Isabel stated flatly. She moved with uncanny grace as she reached for him, too smooth to be human. When she lifted him, there was none of the usual awkward shuffling or strain – she raised him as though he weighed nothing at all, her spine straight and steps measured.

“The sofa—” I stood to let her by as she carried him into the living room. To her credit, it seemed like she was trying not to jostle him as she laid him down and backed away. I tried to ignore her thoughtfulness.

“Erin…” Tom moaned, his voice almost inaudible.

“What – what happened?” My hands were shaking as I tugged his jacket away from his throat and exposed the wound there. It almost seemed like his flesh had been gnawed at by a wild animal, the skin torn and bleeding heavily. The tang of blood hit my nose again, and I looked away.

“Murray.” The word came out as barely a breath as Isabel came to stand beside him. Her face paled visibly at his words, despite her already chalky complexion.

I peeked up at Isabel from beneath my hair, knowing it made no sense. She shrugged at me, failing to appear indifferent as she handed me antiseptic and cotton wool pads I recognised from under the kitchen sink.

As carefully as I could, I tried to clean the shredded flesh of his throat to see the damage better. Blood had already congealed around the edges of the wound, thick and dark. But each time I dabbed at it, fresh crimson welled up from beneath. The sweet-metallic smell grew stronger, mixing sickeningly with the antiseptic.

“No major arteries appear to have been ruptured,” Isabel murmured, watching over my shoulder. “There would be more blood than this.”

She reached for the cotton in my hand and rapidly cleared away most of the mess, but it was still flowing sluggishly. “But this was no feed; it was intended to cause suffering.” Her voice was as tight as her expression.

“And his face?” I asked.

“It’s hard to say. I imagine the attacker tried to knock him unconscious, though I can’t see why. Younger vampires may find it is simpler to feed if they can subdue humans in such a way, but Nicholas has more than enough control over himself.”

“It was him,” Tom said faintly. His eyes were closed, and I was grateful he hadn’t noticed who I was talking with.

“You’re sure?” I kept my tone light, but it didn’t make much sense to me. As far as I knew, Tom still only had a vague description of Nicholas to go on. He didn’t answer my question, drifting back into semi-consciousness.

I straightened, looking absently around the room. Isabel continued to disinfect the wound at Tom’s throat, followed by his face. After her initial reaction, his blood didn’t seem to affect her at all – and somehow, I wasn’t worried about her hurting him. It was like watching a nurse dealing with a patient – utterly detached as she examined the wound, pressing gauze onto it delicately.

Everything I knew about Nicholas screamed this wasn’t him –he had no reason to hurt Tom except to hurt me. Tom had seen his attacker, yes, but he didn’t know Nicholas the way I did. Despite the evidence, that magnetic pull toward my Scottish vampire wouldn’t let me believe it. My heart had found its answer, even if my head disagreed. But Isabel and Tom didn’t believe that, and I had nothing to persuade them with.

I perched on the edge of the desk chair and observed as Isabel worked on Tom, my head spinning. Each gentle motion she made contradicted years of certainty. For a second, I was transported back to Jon’s apartment, late one night after a hunt.

“What if we’re wrong sometimes?” he’d mused, a few too many beers slurring his voice “Not about hunting, but about – I don’t know – them all being the same?” I’d dismissed it as drunken philosophising. Tom had figured Jon had a crush on some vamp.

Now, watching Isabel clean Tom’s wounds with a healer’s precision, I wondered if Jon had been onto something I’d been too stubborn to consider. That maybe a monster could show mercy.

Eventually, the vampire stood, and I followed her into the kitchen. She closed the doors behind us, and the room filled with a fragrance I was beginning to associate with Isabel; like fresh lilacs and cold winter nights.

“He likely lost a considerable amount of blood before he made it here,” she stated. Her hands were stained red, and she wiped them carelessly on her black jeans. “He may require a transfusion, but I ask that you don’t take him to the hospital yet – provided we watch him closely, and he gets the correct nutrition, he should recover without further medical care.”