Page 6

N o matter the day of the week, I never found enough time for sleep. It felt like minutes had passed since I’d closed my eyes when a pounding on the bedroom door brought me back to consciousness. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the duvet up to muffle the sound.

The banging stopped for a moment, before resuming twice as loud.

“Unless the house is on fire or you’ve discovered time travel, this better be bloody good,” I called, dragging myself upright. Pain shot through my elbow as I put weight on it, and I swore loudly.

“Are you decent?” Tom stuck his head around the door. “Shit, Erin. What happened?” As was his custom, he immediately spotted the now livid bruising along my left arm. I flexed it experimentally. It probably looked worse than it was.

“I fell,” I answered, swinging my legs out of bed and wincing as I stumbled.

He hurried across the room and pulled my uninjured arm around his shoulder. “I’ll help you downstairs, and you can tell me over breakfast.”

“Thanks,” I grinned. “Does that mean you’re cooking?”

He ignored me.

In the chilly kitchen, I hopped between cupboards, looking for more painkillers as Tom fiddled with the thermostat. When he noticed what I was doing, he slid a bottle of cocodamol across the worktop.

“So, you fell?” He watched me struggle with the child-safe container as I sat at the table across from him.

“Honestly,” I replied, grasping the lid in my teeth while tugging a lumpy cushion out from beneath me with the other hand. “No vamp involvement whatsoever.” It popped open and spilled sugary pills over the counter.

“Right. You just… fell. Nothing to do with the fact you vanished for hours after—”

“Through the floor of the old lodge, actually.”

He stared at me, shoving two pieces of bread into the toaster without looking at them. “You’re kidding. The same floor I specifically told you would collapse if you kept—”

“If you say ‘I told you so,’ I will throw this cushion at your head.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, holding up both hands. “Though I did. Tell you so, I mean.” He dodged the cushion with ease. “How are you not—?”

“Dead or smashed to bits? Smart question, Chowdhury.” I heaved my injured ankle onto the chair between us, throwing back the pills.

The toaster pinged, and Tom’s dark eyes followed me thoughtfully as he crossed the room to grab a plate and put more bread in. “You know, you’re oddly durable. Have you noticed? I mean, most people don’t treat falling through floors like it’s a minor inconvenience. You’re like a human rubber ball.”

Of course I’d noticed. Most people didn’t heal cracked ribs and broken bones in a fortnight. But saying that sort of thing out loud made me feel… well, insane.

“Pass the first aid box?” I asked instead.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” he continued, ignoring me. But he reached under the sink and tossed the box over anyway.

“Hmm?”

“Yeah. Because when you break it down, what would be the point of your heightened senses, and the vamp stuff, if you didn’t have the strength to do something about it?”

I pursed my lips, concentrating on the tub of antiseptic cream and tweezers I’d dug from the jam-packed box. A little more rummaging, and I produced a mirror and cotton swabs.

“I mean, Jon was great at martial arts, but he couldn’t take you in a fight.”

I cleared my throat. “I’m not planning on testing this theory if that’s what you’re after.”

“Fine by me,” he smiled tightly. “But you still need time to heal. Rest. Call Maggie and ask her to cover.”

I tugged down the skin beneath my left eye, and swabbed antiseptic across the shallow cuts there. “And your motives are honourable, right? Nothing to do with wanting to spend more time with her?”

“We work together, that’s a good enough reason.” His smile was smug as he grabbed the tweezers from my hand and took over, removing the remaining splinters. “But she’s got family visiting at the weekend, so we moved our date to tomorrow.”

I wiggled my eyebrows at him. “Nervous?”

“I thought I would be.” The tip of his nose turned red. “But I really like her, and she’s already heard my stupid jokes and knows my bad habits. That’s got to be a good start.”

I smiled and nodded. He deserved someone in his life after everything that had happened lately. Though I hated to admit it, I was sort of jealous – but that wasn’t my path, and I’d accepted that. I danced too close to the darkness to bring anyone over the edge with me.

“So long as I get the juicy details afterwards.” I winked at him. “That is if you’re not too busy.”

The smell of burnt toast filled the room, and I stood to remove it before it got worse, laughing with Tom. Maggie would be perfect for him.

???

D espite his transparent motives, Tom had a fair point about taking time to heal. I made my way through four mugs of coffee before I noticed the caffeine wasn’t waking me up in the slightest, so after he left for Jolt, I climbed back into bed and slept the day away. Cocooned in the warmth of my duvet, it was a relief to forget the world for a while. Even to forget the heavy feeling in my chest that hadn’t lifted since we’d heard about Jon’s death.

Everything was still stiff and sore the next morning, but at least I could move more easily. An ultra-hot shower helped loosen up my limbs, and I made a vague plan of how my day could go as I ran conditioner through my hair, dried myself off and headed upstairs.

Technically, my work room was a loft space my landlord had glorified in the hopes of adding another bedroom to the house and bumping up the rent. He’d installed windows at either end of the steep, angled roof, and fitted some plasterboard with access into the eaves for insulation – but that was about as far as he’d gotten. I could only get in using the pull-down ladder from the hatch in my bedroom ceiling, which took more effort than usual with a dodgy ankle. Still, I managed it.

A battered yellow couch stood in one corner by a set of drawers that contained my paints, paper, pencils and charcoals. At the opposite end, a paint-spattered easel sat by a three-legged stool. Early morning sun flooded the room, and dust motes danced on the air currents around me, swirling in patterns my paintbrush could never capture. I sighed. Okay, I’d made it up here. Now what?

The light was too beautiful to ignore, so I dragged the sofa from the corner into the middle of the room and grabbed a sketchbook from my desk. The urge to draw had been growing fainter for years – my time was pretty much eaten up by life-or-death situations instead – but right now, something was tugging at the edges of my consciousness, and I wanted to get it down before I lost the feeling.

Splaying my fingers across the heavy paper, I let my pencil make its own decisions, its lead a familiar weight in my hand. The shapes and lines were meaningless at first, without context on an expanse of white. Little by little, features took form, and soon the face became familiar. I shivered, pulling my cardigan more closely around me as I held the result at arm’s length.

A strong jaw swept up toward a dark hairline; heavy waves of hair fell across a forehead – too long for the shape of his face. High, wide cheekbones melted into a smooth brow, the hunter eyes beneath shadowed and crinkled with the ghost of laughter. A straight nose and sculpted lips completed the image, pulled into a half-smile. Apparently my subconscious had been dwelling on my stranger. Cole.

Before I stopped to consider it, I’d crossed the room for my pastels. In short, quick movements, I highlighted the warm chocolate tones of his hair and the freckles across the bridge of his nose. His eyes were more difficult. None of the colours in my box were quite right, and despite my blending of greens, browns and even blues, I couldn’t find the right combination to create the golden flecks that were so unusual and, well, gorgeous. Apparently ‘genuinely stunning’ wasn’t a standard colour in my pastel set.

I stared hard at the drawing. The resemblance to Jon was still there – I hadn’t imagined it. But now I had a name for him and had heard his voice, the differences were clear. I shook my head, rolled up the sketch and snapped an elastic band over it. Now wasn’t the time for my musings, but I still wanted to finish it. I shoved it in my satchel to think about later, and my stomach gave a loud growl.

As always, time had flown while I was drawing. I made my way slowly downstairs, bringing the satchel with me, though I couldn’t have said why. Cooking was more of a Tom thing, really, but I could hunt in the kitchen, too, and soon tracked down a tin of soup. A glance at the kitchen clock said it was almost one.

I stirred the pan, pondering the drawing. No. Thinking about Cole. It wasn’t only his face that had been familiar – his voice, his mannerisms, even his laugh made me feel like I’d met him before. But I knew I hadn’t. I’d remember. So why couldn’t I get him out of my head?

I wondered what Maggie would make of him. She’d probably tease me mercilessly about meeting a mysterious Scot in the dark, but her eyes would light up at the romance of it all. Fuck knows, I had no other female friends to share this sort of thing with – even if I did have to fudge half of the story.

I grabbed a bowl from the nearest cupboard and served up. There was no harm in heading into the shop early tomorrow, before the morning rush. Maggie could fill me in on her date with Tom too, since I knew he’d just roll his eyes about Cole and be oh-so-evasive about dinner.

The soup was hot, tangy and warming in the cold of the old house, and I savoured it slowly in the chair by the bay window, watching the odd passerby hurry past. November had turned cold fast, and I didn’t envy those stuck outside in the chill. Somewhere deep in the house, the thermostat clicked on. Warm air from the radiator by my feet washed over me, and sleep followed.

I woke with a gasp to a shrill, piercing sound that jolted me out of my seat. Grabbing my phone, I saw it was Tom .

“What’s up?”

“Erin?” His voice was unexpectedly ragged.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out with Maggie?” I asked, glancing out of the window at the fading daylight.

“I’m at her flat. I need you to get here. Now.” Something was wrong. My heart plummeted. It never occurred to me to stop and think whether my ankle was fit for driving – I’d have to manage.

“I’m on my way.”

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up behind an ambulance and two police cars. I spotted Tom, perched on the low wall in front of a stone building that looked to have once been a school. The streaky pink light of the violet hour contrasted with his dark hair and jacket, and as I watched he lowered his face into his hands.

I made my way over and sat beside him, glancing around for some clue as to what was going on. A pair of police officers nearby shot me a look, speaking amongst themselves. “What happened?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

He moved stiffly, indicating an open window with ugly floral glass behind us – probably a bathroom. Dried tear tracks marked his cheeks, making him appear much younger than he was.

“I got here for our date and tried knocking, but she didn’t answer. I called, and I could hear her phone ringing…”

I still wasn’t sure what he was getting at. Or you don’t want to get it.

“Is she… hurt?”

Tom shook his head and glared at the two officers who were still standing by the door, speaking in undertones to a paramedic. A small group had gathered by the barriers that had been placed a few metres down the street. “They think she killed herself.”

A shiver of horror made its way down my spine. This couldn’t be happening.

“She can’t have,” he continued. “I saw her an hour ago at the shop, and she was fine. We booked a table for tonight, so she can’t have, right?”

He stared at me, but I didn’t have the answers he needed.

“It’s like—” He cut himself off.

Jonathan. I didn’t say it, but there wasn’t a single part of me that believed this was a coincidence. It hadn’t even been a week, but Maggie’s death was one more piece in the puzzle, and the message was clearer than ever: this was personal.

I swallowed, chewing it over. “Was it the same? With the… you know, the wire?” A police officer moved towards us. “I know it’s not—”

Tom shook his head again, staring at the ground this time. I couldn’t tell him it would be alright – I’d be lying to him. I’d pulled him into this shitty little dark corner of reality, and now I had to get us out of it. I just didn’t see how the hell I would manage it.

“Excuse me? Sir?” The young officer standing by the curb was barely more than a teenager, and I suspected he’d swapped his acne cream for a badge about fifteen minutes ago. “We’ve got a few more questions for you about Miss Everett, if you wouldn’t mind?” He shifted from foot to foot. The reek of his nervous sweat was pungent, even from a few feet away. It was probably the first death he’d dealt with.

I turned aside from the scene, allowing Tom some privacy as my thoughts raced. Something glinted behind the ambulance, the light bouncing from Maggie’s flat windows and momentarily blinding me. Squinting, I stood up to see beyond the rows of cars parked on the cramped road and spotted a familiar pale, golden head.

What the hell was Adam Locke doing climbing out of a sleek black Maserati at a crime scene? Who was he?

As I watched, a dark head joined him from the passenger side, and dread twisted in my stomach. Even in profile, she was unmistakable, but the pixilated image on Tom’s laptop had barely captured her. Austere and commanding despite her small stature, raw power radiated from her, and my senses recoiled despite the distance. Though Adam seemed tense and unhappy in the last of the indigo evening light, they made a striking pair – bright and dark. I swallowed.

What have you gotten yourself into now?

It took everything in me to turn my back to them and act as though I was engaged in conversation with Tom and the police officer. My skin crawled with goosebumps, and I shuddered. But Tom hadn’t seen a thing.

I kept my face turned away, my teeth on edge and my heart pounding. Eventually, after expressing his sympathy for our loss, the officer told Tom he was free to go. Releasing the breath I’d been holding, I risked a glance behind, but Adam and Wyatt had gone.