know that — you were murdered by one of them — Jack Seth killed you, remember?”
“He had no choice,” I said, pulling Potter close.
“And that’s what I’m trying to tell you, Kiera. They have no choice. They kill, that’s what they do. Even though Seth must have known that by killing you he would die beneath The Hollows, he still couldn’t resist you. He couldn’t stop the urge of ripping you to pieces,” he said, taking my face gently in his strong hands.
“But you can’t be sure that they are still killing,” I said. “The humans wouldn’t put up with it.”
“What if they didn’t have a choice?” he asked me. “What if the humans had struck some kind of deal with the Lycanthrope?”
“Why would they do that?” I asked him.
“Perhaps the Lycanthrope didn’t give them a choice,” he said, his eyes growing dark. “And we all know how they keep to their word. Remember the deal that they struck with Murphy? Look what happened to him. They killed him.”
I looked at Potter and I could see that anger, frustration, and hurt in his eyes again as he remembered how Murphy had been betrayed. “What would Murphy say if he were standing here right now?” I asked him.
With a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Potter said, “Let’s go and catch us some wolf.” Then the smile faded and he added, “But Murphy isn’t here any longer. There are no Vampyrus left — it’s like they never existed. I am all that is left of them.”
“So what are you going to do?” I asked him, hoping that some of his fight was coming back — that spark which had drawn me to him in the first place.
“I’m going to stop them,” he said. “That’s what I did before, with Murphy and Lu…that’s all I know — it’s what I do best.”
“But there is only you left.” I pushed him. “How are you going to do it all on your own?”
Then, turning his back to me, he went to the corner of the summerhouse and reappeared with a holdall in his hands. He threw it at me. I snatched it from the air.
“What’s this?” I asked him.
“You said that you missed your old life, that you wanted to be Kiera Hudson again,” he half-smiled and his jet-black eyes twinkled. “So I went and got you some of your stuff from your flat.”
“It’s still there?” I asked him, wondering if parts of my old life had been pushed too.
“Kind of,” he said, lighting a cigarette, watching me unzip the bag.
“What’s that mean?” I asked him.
“Your flat is four streets along now,” he said. “At first I couldn’t understand why your underwear drawer was full of thick, old woolly knickers and bras that the SAS would have been happy to use as parachutes. Then the old woman started whacking me with her walking stick.”
“Old lady?” I laughed. “What old lady?”
“The old lady who lives in your flat, the flat that you used to live in before everything got pushed,” he explained. “She caught me rifling through her knickers — I thought they were yours. Anyway she whacks me over the head and calls me kinky. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t kinky and she said she was going to call the cops.”
“So what did you do?” I said, my hand over my mouth as I tried to stifle a fit of the giggles.
“I ran, that’s what I did,” he snapped, unable to see the funny side of the story. “And don’t you dare breathe a word of this to Isidor. I’m fed up already with him calling me Gabriel every five minutes.”
“I promise,” I said, unable to hide my laughter anymore.
“It’s not funny,” he barked. “I didn’t have to go and get that stuff for you.”
I looked in the bag and could see that it was full of my own clothes, underwear, perfumes, make-up. Just beneath a pile of T-shirts, I found a photograph of my father. I brushed the tips of my fingers over his face.
“I thought you might like that,” Potter said softly, coming to kneel next to me on the floor. “There was a picture of your mother, but I didn’t bring it. Apart from her ripping my heart out, I didn’t think you would want…”
“The picture of my dad is enough,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
As if sensing the picture of my dad was upsetting me, Potter reached inside the bag and said, “And look what else I found.”
“What?” I whispered unable to take my eyes from the picture of my dad.
“Your police badge,” he said, waving it before me.
I placed the picture gently back into the bag and took my badge from Potter.
“You said that you missed being a copper,” he said. “And besides, if you’re going to start investigating stuff again, I thought it might come in handy. You never know.”
“But I thought you said the whole Miss Marple thing was a waste of time,” I said, looking at him.
“That’s before I realised the Lycanthrope were back,” he said. Then, taking my hands in his, he said, “Kiera we’ve got to find out what they are up to. And if they are still killing, somehow we’ve got to find a way of stopping them.”
“Just like the old days, huh?” I said, staring down at my badge again.
“Me and you, Kiera,” he whispered. “The old team back together.”
“Kayla?” I asked him.
“Of course,” Potter smiled. “It wouldn’t be the same without her whingeing.”
“Isidor?”
“Don’t push your luck,” he groaned. “He can stay here and look after the manor — you know, a bit like Alfred from the Batman comics.”
“No Isidor, no team,” I said, staring straight at him.
“Okay,” he said, throwing his hands up into the air as if in surrender. “But I promise you, one more wisecrack from him about my name and…”
“Why did you go and get my stuff for me?” I cut over him.
“Why not?” he shrugged.
“Tell me the truth,” I asked him.
“Because you wanted it and I couldn’t bear to see you so unhappy, Kiera,” he said. “You haven’t been the same since you came back.”
“Neither have you,” I said.
“I know I haven’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t have a reason for being here — I didn’t have a fight,” he explained.
“And now that you’ve got the Lycanthrope to hunt, you feel happy?” I asked him.
“Isn’t a fight just what you’ve been looking for, too?” he came back at me. “Isn’t that what this whole setting yourself up as an investigator thing is all about? You’re looking for trouble. Kiera, me and you are the same. We need a fight in our lives.”
“Is that all you need?” I asked him.
“No,” he whispered, bringing his face within inches of mine.
“What else then?”
“This,” he said, ripping my shirt open with one quick swipe of his claws, and pushing me down onto the floor.
Chapter Thirteen
For the first time since returning from the dead, we made love together. We took our time. It wasn’t rushed or frantic like it had been in the caves, below the Fountain of Souls. And for the first time, there weren’t those guilty thoughts which had plagued me for so long about Luke. He was now gone from my life and forgotten. Even my fears about those cracks that had appeared on my skin slipped to the back of my mind as I lay back on the floor of the
