They’d stopped running from the werewolves moments ago. Arantay had set her down, nearly keeling over himself. She felt as exhausted as he looked and they leaned against each other for support. Brooke was almost too tired to ignore being so close to him as their bodies pressed together.  

She reckoned they’d run for miles before stopping at Oxford Circus, which was still moderately busy, despite the late hour. Arantay had decided if the wolves had followed them this far, at least they wouldn’t attack in front of so many civilians. Brooke wasn’t so confident. She kept looking over her shoulder for signs of the hairy beasts, just in case.

Malian’s fellow vampires had sped on ahead to their headquarters, whilst Malian stayed back to guide the way.

There were many similarities between Arantay and the vampire, but differences too. Malian was more noble and distinguished looking, his face carved from the finest ivory. Malian’s regal grace was a sharp contrast to Tay’s animalistic one. His pupil’s weren’t vertically slit but dilated, and the iris’s a far more vivid red. Arantay’s elven qualities were more noticeable compared to the full vampire. Brooke felt an unease around Malian that she never felt around Tay.

The baying of the wolves had long since died out. Arantay and Malian had run inhumanly fast through the city. Tay was so weakened, he could barely keep up. Then they’d scaled buildings like pale shadows, Brooke clinging to Tay’s back and looking behind her, expecting to see the lycans loping after them.

Malian had only looked at her once. His ageless eyes had shown nothing, no lust, no hatred, no superiority, just complete detachment.

Once they’d left Oxford circus and travelled through quieter streets, the immortals slowed to a normal pace.

Arantay appeared unconcerned to where Malian led them, but Brooke couldn’t help thinking they might be walking into a trap.

Finally, Malian halted. In front of them loomed an old abandoned church. It held a decrepit air and an odd coldness emanated from it, a chill that touched Brooke’s cheeks with palpable breath.

“We thought it an appropriate place for our coven, since we are apparently frightened of holy water.” Malian smiled, exposing porcelain fangs.

Her heart thumped as Malian led them forward. Who’s to say these vampires aren’t worse than a demented werewolf? The thoughts kept creeping in.

The rusty iron gate whined when Malian pushed it forward. They walked between the gravestones, which formed a grim obstacle course to the church’s entrance.

When she reached the arched doorway, Brooke saw a female vampire clinging to the topmost spire of the church, like a giant pale spider.