We.

He said we.

Not me. We were in deep, fucking trouble.

The blood that had poured from Celeste had pooled onto the floor, sticky and thick, beneath her head. The air smelt of it. Although all signs of her elongated incisors were gone, her mouth was still open, eternally screaming its accusation.

She is here. Paris, awaken. My murderer is here.

And yet, Michael had said we were in trouble. He could have left me to fend for myself. Dragged me back to Sébastien and thrown me to the wolves.

He was still on his knees, staring dumbfounded at the dead vampire.

'It was me,' I said. 'I did this. I'm the one in trouble here, not you.'

Michael looked up at me, his eyes darting to my hands that trembled by my sides. He climbed to his feet and began to look furtively around. Stepping over Celeste, he ran up the stairs, craning his neck to look up the centre of the stairwell. Once seemingly satisfied no one was there, he ran back down and peered under the stairs where the shadows congregated, dark and heavy.

'What are you doing?' I said, as he bent and grabbed Celeste under her armpits, dragging her to the farthest corner under the staircase.

'Trying to give us a head start,' he said, moving to the door and opening it a crack. 'The last thing we need is for the gendarmerie to find her before we've even made it to the end of the street.'

'Michael, wait!' I grasped his arm. 'This doesn't have to involve you. Let me go. Return to Sébastien and tell him I ran as soon as I had the chance. They don't even need to know that you were here.'

Michael's face softened but I could see the storm in his eyes, weighty and foreboding. 'Sarah, even if I was going to claim ignorance of this whole thing, it's too late, don't you see? Sébastien will already know Celeste is dead.'

'What? How?'

'He made her. Her blood is his blood. He will have felt her loss as soon as she bled her last on this floor. Right now, he'll be sending his people to find out who killed her and that will lead them here. Your scent is all over her and this place.'

'And so is yours,' I said, my heart sinking.

'Exactly.' He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. 'Besides, I brought you to Paris. You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me.' Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out his cell phone, quickly typing out a text and hitting send. 'I've told the others to get out fast.'

Fuck. The others. My stomach lurched at the idea they might be in danger because of what I'd done.

'Will they be okay?'

The phone vibrated and Michael glanced at the screen. 'Vince said the house has erupted. He doesn't know why yet, but he's going to try and get them out while Sébastien's people are distracted. Come on, we need to go.'

Grabbing my hand, he inched the door open again, peering out onto the street beyond. 'Keep your head down, keep walking and don't leave my side unless I tell you to.' He shot me a look, his eyes sweeping over my face. Reaching out he rearranged his scarf to cover the blood that had drenched a patch on the front of my sweater and was sticking to my skin. The hoodie was black, but the sodden patch was still visible if you looked hard enough. Pulling up my hood, his hand lingered on my head longer than it needed to. 'You'll be okay. I'll get you out of this, I promise.'

I didn't understand any of this. Why was he helping me? Why was he willing to risk his own life to save mine?

In a dazed panic, I followed him out the door, ignoring the persistent tingling where our hands were linked, which wasn't as hard as it should have been as my other hand was stinging like Hell. I thrust it into my pocket, to hide the blood where the glass had cut into it.

Out on the street, I felt like everyone knew. The buildings seemed to crowd in on either side. The cold winter's air felt biting and cruel. We picked up our pace, heading towards the end of the street and back towards Victor Hugo square. As we reached the busy square, Michael's phone vibrated again, a persistent buzz this time and he look at it, accepting the call as he continued to lead me across the street.

'Vince... yeah, I know. Look I can't explain now, we have to get out of Paris. Head to Gare du Nord. The last Eurostar back to London leaves just after 9pm. We'll meet you there.' He paused, listening. 'It doesn't matter. Forget it, just get to the station. Say nothing to anyone, yeah?'

He ended the call, his face grim. 'Sébastien's people are on the move. Vince and the others are leaving now.'

'Will we make the train?'

Michael's jaw tightened as we reached the entrance to the metro. 'If we're really fucking lucky.'

We took the steps in double time, and Michael led us to the ticket machine, selecting the fare we needed and feeding coins into the slot. We took the next train heading north, and Michael manoeuvred me into the corner of the carriage, standing in front to protect me from view the best he could. With nothing to hold onto, I found myself clutching onto the front of his coat to stop from stumbling with the movement of the train as it powered through the tunnel. If he minded, he didn't show it, and instead remained vigilant, his eyes scanning the carriage for anyone who got on at the stations along the way. We changed at Barbès Rochechouart, alighting soon after at Gare Du Nord.

The crowds at Gare Du Nord were crushing, with people jostling to get past. I remained close to Michael, feeling his body behind mine as we climbed the escalator. When we reached the top, he took my hand again and I complied without argument, the persistent buzz of our linked hands no longer bothering me at all. Instead, I felt strangely glad for it, because to feel my curse prickling at my skin meant he was still there, doing exactly what he said he would.

I'll get you out of this, I promise.

Inside the station, I tried not to panic at the crowds. I wasn't used to this. The crush. The noise. The possibility that anyone here could be my enemy. Once or twice, as we headed towards the Eurostar terminal, I felt Michael squeeze my hand, almost as if he sensed my growing unease spiralling out of control. Checking the overhead boards to ensure the train was still running, he bought six tickets, and then pulled me to one side to wait for the others.

Tugging my hood further over my face, I stumbled against him, my vision darkening a little at the edges, my head fuzzy with anxious dread.

'Hey,' he said, holding onto me, concern crinkling his brow. 'Sugar. You need sugar.' Moving me behind a column, he pointed over to a nearby kiosk. 'I'll be right there, okay? Don't go anywhere. Keep your eyes on me.'

As he jogged over to the kiosk, getting there just before a woman with a trail of kids behind her, all demanding something to eat, Michael gave her an apologetic shrug and grabbed several items, shooting a wide, charming smile at the cashier as he paid. The cashier, a pretty girl with hair piled high on her head, returned his smile with one of her own, staring after him with an appreciative gaze as he walked away, much to her next customer's irritation.

Paper bag in hand, Michael returned, reaching in and handing me a coke and a bar of chocolate. 'Eat,' he insisted. 'There's a baguette in there for the journey. We need to get your sugar levels up first. I've got enough to deal with without looking after a fainting Sensor.' His eyes found mine, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth on one side.

I couldn't find the humour in it, even if I knew he was just trying to make me feel better. I felt terrible. Physically and mentally. Here we were, having to flee Paris, and I could barely even hold it together. 'I'm sorry,' I croaked.

He paused, his cheek twitching as if he was biting on the skin inside his mouth. 'Yeah,' he said, huskily. 'Me too.'

I took a swig of coke, then another, relishing the sickly sweetness as if I were starving for the sugar. 'Will the others make it?' I said, glancing up at the digital clock on the boards, as I took another gulp of fizz.

'I hope so. If not, they'll find somewhere to hole up until the next train in the morning.'

My eyes widened. 'Wait, what?' I said, almost spilling the coke and wiping at my mouth. 'We'd go without them?'

Michael looked at me then, his expression grave, but I could see the dilemma in his eyes. 'It'll be us that Sébastien will come for. We have to get out of Paris, which means we're getting on that next train, whether they're here or not. Vincent knows that.' He swallowed. 'They'll be okay.'

My stomach flipped, a dull ache spreading across my chest.

They were his friends. His companions. And he was choosing me, over them, not because he wanted to, or because he really did believe they'd be okay in Paris without him, but because I'd left him no choice.

'Why are you doing this?' I whispered, my voice cracking. 'You don't owe me anything. You should hate me, and instead you're helping me. Why?'

His gaze swept over the crowds, his jaw clenching. Inhaling deeply, he held it for a second, before letting it go, his chest falling with the heavy release.

'Because you're the key, Sarah. Whatever that might mean, you're the key to everything. If I let you slip through my fingers, then I'll never get the answers I need. And I do need them.'

I frowned at the edge of desperation in his voice. My mouth felt dry despite the Cola. 'These dreams...' I broached. Michael winced noticeably. 'What do you dream about? I mean, I know you see me, but you never told me what happens in them. Sébastien said I should ask you.'

'Did he?' Shadows darkened his expression. 'Typical Dufort. He can never resist stirring the pot.'

'So, what did he mean?'

Michael scowled. 'Nothing. Ignore him. Sébastien is a master at winding people up. He relishes it. Siting at the edge of his web and waiting for everyone to get caught up in all the shit he spins. Ripe for the picking, you know?'

'I guess,' I said. 'What does happen in the dreams then?'

Michael ignored me and muttered something under his breath, before breaking into a grin. 'The others are here. Come on, we'll meet them at check-in.'

He grasped my hand again, and we headed up to the first floor. Glancing behind, I saw Vincent and Maz, hand in hand with Bailey by her side. Dame was stealing a few looks from passers-by, despite the fact his long-length black waterfall coat was now wrapped around him and cinched at the waist with a belt. None of them acknowledged us or even looked our way, but I knew they had us in their sights at all the way as we approached departures. When they drew close to us in the queue, Bailey slipped away and, weaving through the crowd, she appeared beside Michael, who discreetly handed her their tickets.

Just before the automated e-gate, I removed my hood and grabbed my passport from my backpack that I'd brought with me from London. My hand trembled as I held it over the scanner and looked into the camera. In the lane next to mine, Michael was already through, glancing back to make sure I was following. Once we'd cleared security, we held back, waiting for the others to join us.

Vincent's greeting was sombre, but I could see the relief in his eyes as he embraced Michael, slapping him on the back. Bailey's greeting was more affectionate, as she gripped him around the waist, still scowling at me as if to claim back her territory when she saw how close I was to Michael's side.

'What the Hell's going on?' Maz said, glancing around before moving closer. Her astute gaze and no doubt, her blood-detecting senses, drew her instinctively to my injured hand. 'Sarah, you're hurt!' she said, reaching out as if to check it, but I pulled it back before she could touch it, not wanting her to get too close. It was bleeding again.

'We had an unfortunate meeting with Celeste,' Michael said. 'She attacked Sarah and got to her before I could reach them. We were out in the open, I couldn't use my powers.' Guilt flickered across his face. 'Sarah had to defend herself, she had no choice.'

'Holy fuckballs,' gasped Dame, staring at me with wide eyes and clutching a hand to his chest. 'You're like a killing machine, girl. First, Luther, then a Cerberean, now Celeste. Who you going to kill for an encore? Not one of us, I hope.'

'I said, she had no choice,' Michael said, his tone hard. 'Celeste went crazy. One minute she was talking to me, next she spotted Sarah and just lost it. If Sarah hadn't defended herself, she'd be dead now.'

Dame rolled his eyes, but I could see he was surprised at Michael jumping to my defence. 'Okay, okay, beautiful. I'm just teasing, you know that.'

'What happened at the den?' Michael grilled Vincent. 'Did you see Sébastien?'

Vincent shook his head. 'Nope. No sign of him. Just a whole lot of his weird followers running around all over the place and then most of them upped and left. I asked that Antoine guy what was happening, and he just said one of their own got killed and that was it. Knew you were involved somehow when we got your message though.' He grinned. 'I swear, this is why I hatecoming to Paris. Can't visit this damn city without all the drama.'

'And I'd like to leave without more drama.' Michael scanned the departure lounge. 'Keep a look out. We have a little time before we can go to the platform. It's not going to take them long before they realise Sarah's involved.'

I wanted to shrivel up under their stares. 'Um, actually, I might need to use the bathroom,' I said, spotting the ladies toiles behind us. 'I should clean up my hand before we board.'

'Oh, wait a second, big boy,' Maz said, holding up her hand when Michael went to come with me. 'You can charm the pants off most humans, but I doubt anyone is going to tolerate you going in with her. I'll go.'

'Don't be long,' Michael said. 'We'll be waiting right over there by the gate.' He looked at me, his pensive smile reflecting his concern.

Inside the bathroom, I used one of the cubicle's before returning to the basins and thrusting my hands under the automatic tap, wincing as the burst of water hit my injured palm. Maz lingered close by, biting on the skin around her fingernails as she shot me a worried look.

'Stings like a fucker,' I said, feeling bad for rejecting her attention before. 'Turns out using a piece of glass as a dagger isn't the best form of combat.' The blood ran freely into the water, turning it pink as it rushed down the plughole. I'd lied. It didn't just sting. It hurt like Hell and looking at the ugly gash was making me feel giddy. 'I'm sorry,' I said, glancing at her so I didn't have to look at my hand. 'For before. I know you were just concerned. I'm just not used to all this, you know?'

'You mean, vampires not being absolute monsters?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'Something like that. But I'm learning. And I'm trying. Sort of.'

Maz grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 'Wow. Are you sure you're a Sensor?'

'Are you sure you're a vampire?' I shot back and we both smiled, any tension fading quicker than my blood was down the plughole.

Lifting it out of the water, I examined the cut. It was deep and probably needed stitches. If I didn't bandage it up, it was going to keep bleeding and I wasn't sure any number of chocolate bars and bottles of Coke were going to stop me from eventually passing out.

'I think I'm going to need to cover the wound,' I said.

Maz agreed. 'I've got this,' she said. 'Wait there, and I'll go grab some plasters from that shop across the concourse.'

As soon as she'd gone, I bent over, gripping the edge of the basin to stop myself from falling. It was as if I'd been waiting to be alone so I could collapse. My whole body shook. Trying to concentrate on my breathing, I inhaled and exhaled, my breath shallow as it tremored over my trembling lips. Leaning down, I splashed some of the cold water onto my face.

Behind me, the door creaked, and my curse rippled over my skin. Maz was back already, and I didn't want her to see me losing it like this. Quickly, I shook the water from my face and looked up into the mirror, faking a smile to show I was okay.

I gasped. If I hadn't felt nauseous before, I did now.

'Bonsoir, chérie,' Sébastien said, standing so close that I could feel his breath brush the back of my neck. 'You never said aurevoir. Where are you going in such a hurry, I wonder?'