I whirled around. The edge of the basin dug into the base of my spine.

'Sébastien...' I stammered. 'H-how...'

I glanced at the door. Maz would be back any second. Wouldn't she?

Sébastien smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. 'Paris is my city, remember, chérie? I can go where I like, whenever I like.' Reaching out, he snagged a lock of my hair and wound it slowly around his forefinger, brushing over it with the pad of his thumb. 'I was upset to know you had left without saying goodbye. In France, we thank our hosts before departing. It is only polite, no?'

I gripped the basins either side of me, as if they'd crumble under my touch and allow me some distance between myself and the vampire. But there was to be no distance. No escape. Sébastien cocked his head sharply, his gaze darting to my injured hand. Blood smeared the white porcelain.

'Oh, but chérie, you are hurt.' He grabbed my hand, ignoring my resistance as I tried to pull it out of his grasp, and opened my palm, studying the wound with feigned concern. 'Mon Dieu. This looks painful. How ever did you do this?'

With his eyes locked with mine, he raised my hand to his face, inhaling, before pressing his open mouth against my palm. I could feel the heavy heat of his breath, and then the wet, warmth of his tongue as he gently, slowly, slicked it over the open cut.

The tremor of my terrified gasp cut through the silence in the bathroom, punctuated only by the drip-drip-drip of a leaking tap.

I attempted to push him off with my other hand, but he deftly caught it and pressed it back down on the basin, covering it with his own. He made a shushing sound and sucked on his lower lip as if my blood still lingered there, uttering a soft, satisfied groan.

'Your blood is sweet, chérie. You would be most in demand at my club. Most in demand indeed. I would have a list of clientele as long as the Seine, queuing up to taste you.' His eyes swept over my face, drinking in my fear. 'Although, I confess, it would be difficult to give you up. I am something of a jealous creature. I think I would want to be the only one to enjoy you.'

'Sébastien, please...'

His eyes lit up; his lips parted. 'Ah, chérie, to hear you say that word! If only things were different. I would hear you say that word to me every night for an eternity, but alors, we cannot change events, no? Such a pity.'

'I can explain. I never meant to...'

'To kill Celeste?' He made a clucking sound with his tongue, dismissing my words. 'I think maybe, in that moment, you did, Sarah. You did mean to. It was the only way, no? Kill or be killed. That is the way of our two kinds. An unavoidable certainty.'

'She attacked me,' I said, firmer this time, even if my whole body continued to betray me by trembling. 'I had no choice. I did nothing, Sébastien. She saw me in the street and cornered me. What else was I meant to do? Give her my throat to rip out?'

Sébastien nodded, as if he understood completely. 'And ripped it out, she would have. Celeste despises – despised - your kind deeply. She was very much in love once upon a time. Far softer then. Far less attuned to the world I brought her into. That was, until the Church descended upon my city, determined to wipe out any vampire they found. Celeste was lucky to escape with her life. Her love, not so fortunate. They tore him apart. Like animals.' He sniffed. 'And they call themselves holy people. In my experience, chérie, holy people will commit the worst of atrocities and still claim we are the monsters.'

'I'm not like that,' I whispered. 'You know I'm not like that.'

'No. You are not.' His gaze brushed over my face again, lingering on my mouth. 'But you have the potential to be, and that is where my problem lies. You have spent your entire life, without the training of the Church, and still you live. Still, you survive. Against all the odds. I ask myself, how is that possible? How does this young woman, so untrained in her art, keep walking blindly through life, without getting her pretty throat torn out? You are like no Sensor I have ever met, Sarah. That is the truth of the matter. You say you are not like the rest of your kind, but the fact remains undisputable: you are dangerous.'

He lowered my hand, but didn't release it, instead remaining close, staring down into my face.

'So, tell me, Sarah, what should I do? My people want you now. They will demand nothing less than your life.'

I swallowed. 'You can tell them the truth. You can tell them I had no choice.'

'I cannot do that.'

'You can. You can persuade them...'

Sébastien's face clouded with fury. 'I cannot! Do not ask this of me! Do you understand nothing? How can I deny them the justice they deserve?'

'And what about what I deserve? I was just defending myself. Celeste attacked me for no reason, other than because of what I am.'

Sébastien laughed then, cold and hard. 'Do you think they care about that, chérie? That is more than enough reason for Celeste to attack you and if she had killed you, then so be it.'

'B-but you invited me to your home. You invited a Sensor...'

'And you think that makes you our friend?' he snapped. 'I invited you for one reason only and it is not the reason you think. Do you really imagine that I still consider myself in debt to Michael? Did you think I owed him, Sarah? I am Sébastien Dufort and I owe nothing to anyone. People live in debt to me and not the other way around.'

'Then, why?' I said.

He shrugged. 'Curiosity is a terrible thing, no? When Michael told me of his discovery, this girl that has the power to invade a vampire's head when he sleeps, and in Michael Quinn's head, of all the vampires! A Trueborn and a Sensor. I confess that my curious mind would not rest. But now, with Celeste's blood not yet dry on your clothing, I think perhaps, I have made a mistake.'

He inched closer still, until his body was almost pressed against mine.

'So, you can see, chérie, how can I justify my own curiosity and hopes, if it means betraying my own people? And yet...' His attention drifted back to my wounded palm. 'This blood, Sarah. I cannot deny how it intrigues me so. The possibilities are... almost too much to ignore.'

His lips brushed the open cut and I winced. My curse seemed to surge into that point, pulsing with an angry fervour.

With another groan, this time, one that seemed to border on pain, Sébastien finally dropped my hand and stepped back. Barely looking at me, he withdrew a piece of paper from his coat pocket and held it out at arm's length.

'What is that?' I asked, staring at it as if it was a snake, ready to spit its venom at me.

'This is what your Michael seeks.' He removed something else from his pocket and thrust it at me. It was a cellphone. 'And this is for you and you only. You will not speak of it to him or to anyone. If you do not, the consequences to Michael and his friends will be severe. Do not think the trueborn's powers mean I cannot reach him and his little family. Keep it hidden. It has only one number. Mine. When you meet with Montague Kerr – if he agrees to see you – you will contact me and then, I will come for you.'

'What?' I gasped, stunned. 'Why?'

Sébastien smiled, the heat resurfacing in his eyes. 'Because chérie, my curiosity desires to be fed. And I am not the type of creature that likes to remain unsatisfied.' His gaze lingered on my throat, and he tugged on the fleshy part of his lip with his teeth, incisors elongated. 'Ensure not to keep me hungry, Sarah. It makes me very irritable.'

A furious knocking came from the door.

'Sarah?' Maz called out, panic in her tone. 'Sarah, are you still in there?'

Without another word, I ran past Sébastien and the cubicles, towards the short passageway, and unlocked the door, to find a worried Maz on the other side. In her hand, she waved a bright yellow cleaning in progress caution sign.

'What the Hell?' she said.

'I felt sick,' I blurted out. 'I went back into the cubicle. I guess the cleaner didn't realise I was in there. You were ages,' I said, trying to deflect back onto her to avoid her questions.

Maz exhaled and rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, sorry about that. A whole group of school kids turned up in front of me before I could pay. You have no idea the kind of headache I have now. Nevermind! We should get your hand patched up.'

Before I could say anything, she pushed past me into the bathroom and I rushed in after her, but I needn't have worried.

Like a ghost from my nightmares, Sébastien Dufort had vanished, as if he had never been there at all.