Alex followed the dotted trail of blood down the lane, along Jockey's field and into Bedford Row. The drips on the concrete grew larger and lost their circular shape the further they got from Greys' Inn. The victim had obviously fled quickly and then slowed as he reached the park. Whether he thought he was safe, or could no longer run, Alex couldn't tell.

“The blood stains are getting pretty large now, it must have been a bloody great wound,” Drew said.

“But that doesn't make sense, does it? How would he stop losing blood so quickly and then was back to losing a lot of blood by the time he got to the gate?”

“Well, he could-” Drew said and then stopped, no explanation available.

They came to a halt, with the blood trail, outside a house on Bedford Row. Above the entrance was a 'For Sale' sign and beneath, the door was ajar. Alex made the age old call of 'Police,' into the darkness, the light from the streetlamp only illuminating a few feet into the house. There was no reply.

“Alex, we should get backup,” Drew said.

“You go get backup, I'll stay here to make sure nobody disturbs the scene.”

He must have known she would go inside, but Alex guessed he didn't care. He probably wanted to use the fact she had broken protocol against her at a later date.

The stairs creaked as wisps of sawdust glossed from where she stepped, blood shimmering on the steps where her torch light hit it. On the landing, the bannister rail had buckled outward, more blood marking the metal posts. The trail was obvious, but the decision to follow it alone was not so easy to make.

Alex took a deep breath and continued into the front room, the street lamp outside casting long shadows that kept the floor concealed. The chair in the corner had toppled over and a small coffee table lay broken, the result of something or someone landing on it. Alex bent to examine it when her phone light flickered and went out. In the same instant, with a burst of sparks, the bulb of the streetlamp blew, leaving Alex in complete darkness.

Shadows are nothing to be afraid of, only children fear shadows. She shouldn’t fear the dark. But what if the dark wasn't what she should be scared of? There was a noise, the creaking of a floorboard. It was an old house and old houses creak a lot. As long as she didn’t think about the fact someone had potentially been kept hostage here, then tortured to the verge of death, only to momentarily escape before having their throat slit and a knife plunged into their heart, Alex would be fine.

Something brushed against her and Alex backed the wall hard enough to drive out the air from her lungs. Alex closed her eyes and held her breath, pursuing a childish comfort: if I can't see you, then you can't see me. It was childish, but she clung to that hope. With a creak, the floorboard she was standing on sinked beneath her feet, forced down by the weight of someone standing next to her.

- Chapter 11 -

Pathways

“Hang on, I'm lost. So Inquisitors are changers, which are alternates, which are like humans, but...”

“No, for God’s sake listen,” Gabriel said.

The cafe was odd to say the least, reminding Henry of the Hookah bars he had visited while in Turkey. An aromatic scent clung to the air, sickly sweet and heady. Light poured from coloured glass oil lamps, hung from the ceiling in no discernible pattern.