The silence in the car was unnerving. After so much action, so much noise, to sit with no sounds save for the low rumble of the engine and our steady breaths was soothing, but uncomfortable. My head pounded, desperate to fill in the sounds that it expected to hear. I turned to face Harper, sat alone in the back. His gaze was fixed on the rolling trees and verges rushing past outside. I smiled at him, a tiny, grateful smile that said more than words could. He ignored it. He’d lied for me when my Dads had arrived at the woods. He’d lied for me, and it was clear on his face that he regretted it. I’d been spared the agony of continuing our barbed conversation by the arrival of my Dads, tyres screeching as they pulled up at the edge of the sparse trees. Cyrus had disappeared in a sudden flash of darkness. I hadn’t had time to wonder where he’d gone – or why he’d left. Dad and Paps had

I held the darkness close, using it to shroud me as I crept towards the building. I’d been home only briefly between the conclusion of the meeting and arriving at The Heath, and there I had found my phone placed carefully on my pillow. The sight had filled me with warmth, and something akin to homeliness, now that I knew who was behind the return of my lost items. Though he’d never said it, I’d assumed that Cyrus had returned the obsidian necklace to me, too – before I’d left it with Veronica. The screen of my phone was smashed, but it worked well enough after a quick charge for me to call Cyrus and fill him in. There was no word as of yet from Harper. I was glad of it – I didn’t have the energy to help him work through his fear. I had enough of my own shit to work through in the short time I had without worrying about him. I’d re-laced my boots before I left, and with each tight crossing I rem

My eyes were unfocused, glassy, as I watched Cyrus scream. The sound was raw, unlike anything I had ever heard before, least of all from him. The hot pulse of blood streaming from my neck eased, and I let my hand fall. I hardly knew what I was doing. My entire being was honed in on that awful, curdling scream. Even though I had done nothing, I had broken our agreement. I was a vow breaker. I had destroyed the burgeoning trust between us. I felt no sorrow for his Nanny, not really. Her eyes were as glazed at mine, but through my own haze I could see her smiling. Cyrus clutched her to his chest, sobbing openly, tears falling on her weathered face. But through it all she smiled, and placed a weak hand atop one of his. Something in his expression broke me, though. It crumpled, the skin pulling taut as he screamed his throat raw. But it was not the cries or the shaking or the pull of his mouth that twisted the knife in my hea

Over the course of my stay in hospital, I’d learned one major thing: I had made a mistake. Perhaps it would truly have been better to die than to take Salvor’s blood. I would have died a hero, having uncovered the vampire clan’s nest. The likelihood was also that Cyrus would still have his Nanny, too – he wouldn’t have left her unattended in those last, fatal moments to come to my aid. But what was done was done; it had been marked in time, irreversible and unchangeable. And here I was, packing up my meagre belongings – a wilting flower left for me by Cyrus, with a small, polite note attached it; half a bar of chocolate, left for me by my Paps; and my clothes, which my Paps had also brought with him. The clothes I’d been wearing the night I’d been brought in were blood-soaked, ripped, and ravaged, and I’d had no qualms about asking the hospital staff to put them straight in the bin.

Days passed. Harper worked, and I drifted around the house, unfeeling and uncaring – until the nightly terrors struck, and my body shook with fear and sobs. I did not feel the pain of my hand, or the stitches in my neck, but as soon as darkness fell the pit in my stomach grew, morphing along with the faces in the shadows until my throat closed around my screams. I relieved the same day over and over. I ran the fingers of my right hand down the banister, along the back of the sofa, across the tatty Christmas table cloth Harper had put in the kitchen. I tried to force myself back into my old life, to make my new self fit with a past that no longer existed. Needless to say, it didn’t work. I did not eat, save for the meals that Harper cooked for me. It took too much concentration, and I could not be distracted for even a moment. Anyone could strike, when I was home alone like this. I had been saved by my team, and by Cyrus, too many