One of the streetlamps was out; the absence of light cast a pool of blackness across an intersection. The shops here were all closed, their windows dark. ‘Maeve?’
The back of my neck prickled, and I realised that this wasn’t a good idea. I pulled up her number.
The call went straight to voicemail, as if she’d turned her phone off.
Maeveneverturned her phone off. I flicked her text open.
If I don’t come back, call the police love ya xx
I bit my lip. Surely it was too early to panic.
I called her number again; this time, I left a voice message.
‘Maeve? Can you call me, please? I’m worried. And, um. I have to talk to you.’
I hung up and shook my head. Four years studying literature at university and I could barely put together a coherent voice message.
Medical expenses were starting to eat into my grandmother’s savings by the end of my degree. I’d wanted to go into teaching, but that would have been another two years living on study assistance and the little extra I made from weekend shifts at abookshop, and that barely covered rent and food; I couldn’t help my grandmother with that. I’d always loved cooking, so when I’d seen an advertisement for an apprentice chef offering above-award rates at a new club opening close to my apartment, I’d taken a gamble and applied. Jessa had still been cheffing then, balancing owning the club and running the kitchen. She’d taken me on, and, when I’d learned enough, she’d ceded the kitchen to me and bought another club; she now had her own mini empire of bars scattered up the east coast.
‘Heck.’ I stopped still and closed my eyes, leaning on an obliging wall as another thought struck me. ‘The apartment. Her stuff. Her will. Her …her.’ I opened my eyes.Would she still be there? Or would the paramedics have taken her somewhere else?
I could deal with a lot, but I wasn’t sure I could deal with my grandmother’sbody.
I unlocked my phone and called Maeve again with shaking fingers. ‘Maeve? Please, I –’ My voice shook; I swallowed. ‘I’m worried. I need to talk to you. Please.’
There was a scuffling sound up ahead; I shivered again, unnerved. Deciding I’d go back to Claire to wait for Maeve’s response – and work out when I called the police – I turned my back on it.
And caught the sound of a soft footfall.
I spun back around. ‘Maeve?’ I called, trying to keep my voice strong, my fingers hovering over the emergency call button on the keypad.
A shadow moved.
Not Maeve, I realised. The shadow was too big, too broad. Too …male. Pale skin turned pearlescent in the moonlight. Black hair, eyes like pools, beautifully-shaped lips, and –
‘What theheck?’ I blurted out.
An odd growling sound ripped through the night air.
You didn’t imagine it, I told myself.Horns. Two horns, black as jet, curving elegantly back from above his temples.
‘It’s not Halloween,’ I said stupidly.
His black eyes blinked. I stared into them, mesmerised, the churning in my stomach turning into something hot and hungry. I stepped forward without thinking, an odd pressure blooming beneath my ribs, drawing me closer. My fingertips were tingling; my hand twitched with the need to touch, the need to trace over the square line of his jaw, the curve of a horn. Heat flared between my legs and I took a shuddering breath, my lips parting as I moved to take another step, to close the distance between us.
What are you doing, Anna?
Somewhere deep inside, instinct shouted a warning, and I froze as he took a step towards me.
Too late, the heat in my core turned to fear and crawled up my spine. Too late, I turned, then shifted my weight to run. Too quickly, a hand took hold of my waist; my skin twitched as something hot pricked my neck. Every muscle in my body tensed; pain rolled through me, buoyed on the crest of an excruciating wave.
Too quickly, I was slung over a massive shoulder.
Too easily, my boneless fingers dropped my phone; I heard the screen shatter as it hit the pavement.
Too easily, my eyes rolled back, and the street disappeared.
What are you doing,Callan?
