as she stepped into the chill of the evening; that Adam would have no choice but to take her back to the slaughterhouse where he lived. She thought back to the stench of decay in her nostrils as she and Adrian stepped over the threshold — her stomach couldn’t take that, too busy lurching at the thought of the decimated body in her hallway. She’d seen worse on the job, but death had never been at her hands before.
Jones hissing in the box at her side, she marched with as much purpose as she could muster down the pavement, Adam’s striding gait a few steps ahead of her. The rucksack on her back had gone mouldy after too many festival treks, the stench no doubt invading every item she’d hurriedly stuffed inside. A problem for tomorrow. She added it to the mental list she was busy compiling, right after the fact she seemed to be homeless, and the fact the police would almost certainly be after her within hours.
She realised after a few minutes they were headed the opposite direction to Adam’s house, and a wave of relief washed over her. She would ask where they were going, but she was too busy fighting for breath.
They headed out of town, along the river Ouse, past endless reams of student buildings. They turned onto a quiet cul-de-sac, its more-affluent houses sat atop up a steep rise on the road, overlooking the river and the main road below. A fog had settled over the evening, bathing everything in cool white light from the street-lamps, diffused across grey mist.
They stopped at a tall house, old like Adam’s home, but far less decrepit. Grander, even. A detached house, tall and austere, the kind of house she looked at with longing whenever she was busy contemplating her life's direction. Lights were visible through the curtains. Adam marched up to the door and knocked out a strange rhythm of taps.
There was a rustling of locks and keys and the door opened, revealing a woman so breathtakingly beautiful that Lucy almost dropped her cat. She seemed to have the same effect on Jones, too — he stopped hissing at the vampire and stared at the woman. Tall, thin, tousled brown hair shining so brightly in the hallway light it seemed like a halo, framing a face that held oval brown eyes and luscious red lips in a configuration almost impossible in its symmetry.
‘Adam,’ she said, in a voice that possessed no surprise, but not much welcome, either. ‘How may we help you?’
‘I request sanctuary,’ he said.
‘You cannot ask that of us,’ she said, surprise in her voice.
‘Not for me,’ he said. ‘For her. And her cat.’
The woman looked round Adam to Lucy, who felt like the least glamorous person in the world, sweating and frumpy, her top covered in vampire blood, and carrying a cat.
‘I’m Lucy.’
‘Pleasure to meet you,’ the woman replied, sounding the opposite and offering neither welcome nor her own name in response.
‘Lucy, this is Elle.’
‘She's human?’ Elle asked.
‘She is.’
‘She’s right here,’ Lucy said.
Elle cracked a half smile for the first time. She looked Lucy over once more. ‘Come in.’
Lucy stepped forward, past Adam, into the house, which issued warmth and welcome as soon as she crossed its threshold.
‘You’ll be safe here,’ he said, and she believed him. He looked as though he could not physically get closer to the house. So much for his claim there was nothing magical about his… kind. Clearly, something kept him from the threshold.
‘You have trouble?’ Elle asked, her nose wrinkling slightly.
‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,’ Adam said. ‘It is between my people.’
‘I thought you needed my help,’ Lucy said, feeling stupid the minute she said it, like an infant asking if they can help with dinner and peeling a single potato while their parent makes a full meal.
‘I will. Tomorrow. First, I need to understand a bit more. I will go to Autumn, try to understand.’
‘Won’t she kill you?’
‘We don’t kill each other,’ he said.
'Okay,' Lucy replied, too numb to say anything else. She stepped inside. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on her sofa with a book and a glass of wine.
‘No work tomorrow. Call in,’ Adam said.
‘Fine,’ she replied wearily.
He offered a terse smile and turned away, blending into the darkness immediately. Elle gave a quick look around the street before closing the heavy door and turning to Lucy.
‘Welcome to my home,’ she said, breaking out into a wide smile. ‘You can let your cat out.’
Lucy set the box on the ground, opening the hatch. Jones sprang out, tail up. He headed straight for Elle, dancing in and out of her legs, purring wildly. The tall woman laughed with an exaggerated delight, reaching down to pick the ginger cat up. ‘Ah, he’s a delight. What’s he called?’
‘Jones.’
‘Well, nice to meet you, Jones. It’s been a while since we had an animal in the house, but we have milk.’ She wandered off into the house, leaving Lucy to trail behind with her bags, wondering how best to start a conversation that might fill in some blanks for her.
‘How long have you known Adam?’ Elle said, taking care of the problem for Lucy.
She shrugged, the action feeling again too childish in front of this woman. ‘Not sure I do. I’m a paramedic. I was called to an incident at Adam’s house. His friend, Cain.’
Elle stopped. ‘Cain? Is he alright?’
She shrugged again, a hard thing to do laden down with bags. ‘I don’t know. Autumn and her people took him.’
Elle stared at her for a moment. ‘You must tell me everything,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you settled and find something to eat.’
Lucy’s temporary room was like a museum, albeit warm, with a lived-in feel. There didn’t seem to be anyone else at the house but Elle, despite her referring to herself in the plural sense. But if the guest bedrooms were this plush, she’d love to know what Elle’s looked like. The blanket covering her duvet looked more expensive than everything Lucy owned combined. Elle told Lucy to have a shower, and when she came out there were fresh pyjamas and a dressing gown laid on the bed, and slippers beside it. Jones had already taken up residency on her new bed, and watched her with half an eye open as she got dressed. She dried her hair, glad there were no longer flecks of vampire blood congealing within its strands.
Downstairs, Elle was in the kitchen, fixing a meal of vegetable stew and fresh bread, the smell of which drew Lucy forward. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was until that smell, but now she could think of nothing else.
‘Come, sit,’ Elle said, putting a bowl down on the breakfast nook of the kitchen. ‘I won’t grill you until you’ve eaten.’
‘Okay,’ Lucy said, pulling up her chair, letting the smell of fresh bread fill her head. ‘Maybe you could tell me how you know Adam.’
Elle let out a long laugh. ‘Oh, I’m not sure we’d have time if we sat up all night. We go way back. He is… unique to his kind. As, I suppose, am I.’
‘Your kind?’ Lucy was desperate to know, but reticent to ask.
Elle smiled. ‘You might think of it as witch. It’s the closest approximation. But it’s also completely wrong. As most things are, when it comes to it.’
‘No broomstick?’ This came through a mouth full of bread and broth, which Lucy couldn’t help but shovel in so fast she was more inhaling than eating.
Elle laughed, but there was no mirth in it. ‘No. I use a cordless vac, but only for cleaning.’
‘You know,’ Lucy replied, regaining her composure enough to speak properly between mouthfuls, ‘two days ago I didn’t believe in the existence of anything more exciting than Wi-Fi, now someone tells me they’re a witch and it makes perfect sense.’
Elle smiled. ‘It must have been a strange few days for you. Why don’t you tell me about it?’
Lucy wasn’t sure whether it was the way the woman asked, the warmth of the broth hitting her stomach, or some kind of devilry, but it felt good to unburden everything. And unburden herself, she did. She recounted everything that had happened since she and Adrian got the call, right up to the moment they came to Elle’s house. Lucy supposed it was fine. Adam led her here. He must trust this strange woman. He didn’t warn her to be on guard, he just said she was safe. And that was exactly how she felt.
So safe that after dinner she went straight to her room, climbed into bed, and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, so deep and peaceful she slept through her alarm the next morning, waking when the incessant trill of a phone call woke her up.
The phone was jammed into her bag, stuffed under her clothes, all cleaned and folded, showing none of the signs of yesterday's struggle. Elle had restored even the mouldering inside of the rucksack to its pre-festival glory.
By the time she fished the phone out, she had missed the call, but saw it was not the first of the day, nor even the tenth. It was work, phoning about a shift she was already two hours late for. The warm, serene glow she awoke with turned to a hard, sinking feeling in her stomach. Next came the memory of why she was not at work; the memory of killing a man, and realisation the police were probably — no, definitely — going to be looking for her.
She turned the phone off, which seemed the most elegant solution for the moment. In the same spirit, she sank onto what looked to be an antique chaise lounge, which was more comfortable than it looked. In the light of day, what had looked like an elaborate, if slightly stuffy, museum bedroom transformed into a place of total serenity, punctured solely by Lucy’s own lack of it.
What the hell was she going to do?
Maybe Elle might accept her as some kind of live-in servant? She’d never have to go outside again, because there were monsters out there, and even worse, consequences.
Although, none of those consequences seemed entirely fair to Lucy, who had done nothing more than try to help save a dying man.
There was a knock on the door. Lucy stood up, wishing she’d at least changed out of her pyjamas, especially since the time on the face of her phone had shown closer to teatime than breakfast before she’d shut it off.
‘Come in,’ she said.
The door opened and in walked Elle, looking as beautiful as ever, her sheer presence masking for a second the fact she seemed to have a young girl with her. The girl looked to be about thirteen and dressed in strangely old-fashioned clothes for her age, like her grandmother had dressed her. Her gaze seemed to follow Elle's feet, but when she looked up and met Lucy's gaze, a wide smile followed it.
‘Good afternoon,’ Elle said. ‘You must have needed the sleep.’
‘It’s been a long few days,’ Lucy replied, as the memories of opening up to Elle so thoroughly flooded back, adding to the gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach. She couldn't shake the feeling Elle had coerced her somehow.
‘You’ll be pleased to know the situation with your apartment has been resolved,’ Elle added, moving to the curtains and pulling them wide. Lucy thought Elle was probably the kind of woman who’d pull open the curtains to any room she entered.
‘Resolved?’
‘Yes. We have disposed of the body, repaired your door, and cleansed the place. We also ran into your neighbour…’
‘Mrs Phatak?’
‘Yes. Lovely woman. Missed it all, thankfully. Memory charms are tricky to do correctly, and they’re a real problem when they go wrong. Do you remember the one up in Glasgow, Missy?’
The young girl gave an embarrassed laugh but stifled it immediately.
‘Oh, Lucy, my apologies. This is my friend, Missy. She works with me.’
‘Hi,’ Lucy replied.
Missy gave another giggling response and looked down at the floor.
Lucy composed herself. ‘Have you heard from Adam?’
‘The sun’s still up. I doubt we will until tonight,' Elle replied breezily. 'You’re quite safe from the others, too.’ She sighed and crossed to the bed, picking up Lucy’s discarded towel and fussing with it. ‘I don’t know what Adam thinks he’s gotten himself into,’ she said. ‘No doubt he’s got the wrong end of the stick, as per usual.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lucy asked, resisting the urge to grab the wet towel from her host and fold it herself.
‘Your friend has a habit of this,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Do you remember Paris, Missy?’
Missy giggled.
‘What happened in Paris?’ Lucy asked.
‘Adam always had a soft spot for the people,’ she said, but wouldn’t elaborate further.
‘I need to contact work,’ Lucy said. ‘I should get dressed.’
‘Of course. We’ve prepared lunch for you downstairs.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ Lucy said. ‘But I think I need to get out there and start fixing things.’
‘Oh, I’m not sure that’s wise,’ Elle said.
‘People are going to be worrying about me,’ Lucy replied, noting how Missy had moved to block the door.
Elle raised her hands in front of her, cupping them to make a bowl. A spark of red kindled in the centre, growing into a ball of red fire. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said without the vaguest hint of remorse, ‘but I can’t let you leave.’