On the vehicle deck below, a blacked out mini van waited for us. Michael escorted me to the van and opened the door.

"Sit there," he said, pointing to the middle seat.

"No, I want to look out the window." I replied, sliding into the furthest seat.

"You need to sit there," he growled.

I scowled at him and reluctantly slid into the middle seat. 

He leaned across me and buckled me in. Once he was satisfied the seatbelt was secure, he took a seat next to me and closed the door. 

"Why can't sit next to the window?" I asked.

"It's not safe," he murmured in a low voice.

I raised a sceptical eyebrow and leaned forward in my seat, taking a look out his window. The flat of palm soon pushed me back against my seat. 

"It doesn't look dangerous," I sighed.

"Travelling during the night is always dangerous - we are more open to attack. Normally, we like to travel about in daylight, but tonight it's been decided to take you straight back to your Uncle's hotel in London. He will be able to protect you."

"He's not really my uncle, though. He's a stranger... do you really want to leave me with him?"

"I have no choice. You must return to your coven and I must go back to the Department of Supernatural Relations. I can't stay with you, Lorna. Your uncle won't allow it."

"Why not? You're a vampire too."

"It's difficult to explain. My kind is not tolerated by yours."

As he spoke, I saw the photograph of him in the laboratory come into my head. I recalled the caption under the photo describing him as a 'V-0'. I wondered what that meant and if that made Michael different from me.

I thought about the other photo's I had seen - Uriel and Gabriel. Then I remembered the noise on the ship roof - Michael had mentioned the name Raphael. All their names were the same as the Archangels. 

Michael's hand, slipped into mine.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I'm not leaving you."

His hand felt so warm in mine, I didn't want to let go. A wave of tiredness washed over me and I rested my head against his shoulder. I felt him turn to look down at me.

"You sleep, now. I'll watch over you until we arrive in London," he said softly.

"I'm not sleeping, I'm resting my eyes," I explained.

"Then rest," he whispered.

Time passed and I slipped into a dreamless sleep. An hour or so later, I woke up to find Michael's coat draped over me. The car was still moving and when I opened my eyes, Michael was still there, staring out the window.

I sleepily lifted my head off his shoulder and looked out the window. We were driving through a city - but a city I did not recognise. There were no giant skyscrapers or multilane roads. It was street after street of grand Edwardian and Victorian housing.

"This is so pretty," I whispered.

"This is Knightsbridge - it's very upmarket."

"So, I'm guessing this is where the posh people live?"

"Oh yes, there's a lot of money in Knightsbridge."

"So where about's is my 'uncle's' hotel."

"It's on the next street, overlooking Hyde Park."

I paused and felt my throat start to tighten.

"This means you're leaving me," I said quietly.

"Only until tomorrow sunset, I know it's hard but we are going to have endure it until Francesca has had a chance to speak to your uncle."

I looked down at his hand in mine and felt my heart turn over inside my chest. This was agony. This was so much worser than I had ever imagined.

"Why does it hurt so much?" I asked.

The car slowed down and stopped in front of large palatial building. My fingers tightened around his and I stared at him with pleading eyes.

"Can't I go with you?" I asked.

"You're safer under your uncle's protection," he replied.

I glanced up and saw a concierge approaching the car. Michael let go of my hand and opened the door. The concierge approached with a large umbrella and smile on his face.

"Miss. Lorna, we have been expecting you, I hope your journey wasn't too tedious," the concierge said, shooting Michael a scowl.

"My journey was great, thanks," I replied flatly.

"Come, you must be longing for civilised company."

Michael moved to help me out the car, but the concierge quickly gestured for him to stay put. "Thank you, but we no longer require your services. Our security teams will take it from here."

Michael nodded his head and said, "Very well."

I got out the car and turned to say goodbye to Michael, but he slammed the car door shut and the car drove away. I watched the tail lights disappear up the road and felt my heart breaking.

"Come away, Miss. Let's get out of the cold and into warmth."

I nodded my head mechanically, and followed him up the plush red carpet into large open foyer.

It was 3.30am in the morning, yet the place was buzzing inside.  All around me were people, wearing evening dresses and business suits. The concierge, led me across the foyer to a red velvet divan when Magda was waiting for me. 

"I thought you were with Francesca?" I said, surprised to see her.

"I was sent back here, to make sure you were okay," she replied, standing up in a beautiful deep blue evening gown that seemed oddly inappropriate given that someone had been murdered.

She caught my elbow and led me away from the crowd, leading me to an elevator tucked behind a wall.

"Is Francesca okay?" I asked.

"Not really. She's with her brother, Duncan, he was Emma's father. I'm afraid you will not see her today or anyone else... meeting the relatives will have to wait until tomorrow."

The elevator doors opened and we both got in. Magda pressed a button and I waited for the upward whoosh - but instead, we whooshed down. Did Magda press a wrong button or something because we were heading towards the basement?

The doors pinged opened and we stepped out into what looked like an empty corridor used by the hotel staff. I didn't say a word, I just followed Magda out into corridor. 

The corridor bended around and we were soon faced with a dead end.

"Did we take a wrong turn?" I asked confused.

"No, this is meant to appear like a dead end. Just wait a moment." Magda replied.

We waited for a second and the wall slid open revealing a marble corridor behind. 

A short fat man appeared at the entrance wearing a security guard uniform and Magda thanked him for letting us in. Politely, I thanked the man and followed Magda down the decorated hallway.

We passed doors that were numbered, until we reached number 14. Magda stopped and pulled out a set of keys and opened the door.

Lights automatically flickered on inside and revealed a clean and contemporary apartment filled with hundreds of paintings and photos of Magda and Francesca over the years. Eerily, there was even a photograph of me on my eighteenth birthday in a small frame sitting on the coffee table.

Magda caught me looking at it and said, "Francesca stole it the night we took you from your house. It's been there for past ten years."

I couldn't make up my mind whether that was cute or creepy. 

Magda then nodded to a door.

"That's your room. We had it decorated in the colours you like," she said.

I opened the door and walked into large room decorated in light pastel shades. There were items from my room back home, neatly arranged on the shelves, as well as a few items I didn't recognise. Magda walked in behind me and opened the wardrobe. 

"Francesca organised this, but somewhere should be some pyjamas," she said rummaging through the hangers.

I shook my head - this wasn't real... this wasn't my actual home. This woman was not my parent.

Magda found a pair of pink pyjamas and threw them onto the bed. 

"You should take a shower and get an early night. Tomorrow, you'll meet your cousins," she said and left me alone in my new room.

I collapsed back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

I felt so empty inside.