Chapter One
This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us
Two years later…
Manchester. England. That’s the city I chose to run to. I don’t know, the name just seemed to call to me, Man-chester. I liked the way it sounded. Rolled off the tongue nicely. Now I’ve been here for quite a long time, longer than I expected to stay hidden from the supernatural creatures of Tribane. Rita’s spell must have worked a treat in preventing them from finding me. Then again, I did fly halfway across the world to get here.
I’ve been working in a small independent art gallery. I used the money Ethan gave me to pay the deposit on an apartment in an old converted factory, then I went to the University of Manchester and enrolled in their Art History course. Now I’ve finally finished my degree. In contrast to how I completely fell apart after Matthew died, my heartache at having to leave Tribane made me as determined as a bulldog. I wasn’t going to let myself fall into a hole of self-pity again. So I took the bits and pieces of my broken life and slowly began putting them back together.
I still feel empty though. My success at having completed my education and found a job is not enough to make me feel better about how I left. I can’t tell my dad or Nicky where I am because that would put them in danger, and I’m sure the vampires are keeping a close watch on them in case I do happen to make contact. So no, I cannot bring the people I love into this. They might be heartbroken that I left them behind, but it’s safer for them in the long run.
It’s a lonely life for me here, but a good one. Good in terms of staying alive, I mean. I make sure not to get too close to the people I meet, that way there’ll be less chance of the vampires discovering me. I’ve also been going by my middle name, Alexandra, just a precaution. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and wonder if I imagined the whole thing, everything just seems so normal here. I haven’t come across one single vampire, dhamphir, slayer, warlock or witch. Although saying that, I don’t go out after dark much.
That has to change just for tonight, because there’s an exhibition going on down at the gallery where I work, and my boss Jeff asked if I’d come and help out. It’s December, so it gets dark out fairly early. Winter nights are always the darkest. I’m having these little heart palpitations as I step out onto the street, looking this way and that, praying that there really aren’t any supernatural creatures in this city.
I’m wearing black trousers and a cream blouse under the new dark green military coat I bought to replace my old one. I’ve taken to keeping my hair cut short since I hacked it off in the airport bathroom that time. I can remember almost having a heart attack when I got stopped going through customs because I had a bloody scissors in my ruck sack. My irrational brain had me convinced the airport workers were all vampires.
Anyway, I suppose the change will help me to avoid detection. I’ve also been dyeing one thin strand at the front white, like Rogue from X-Men. I could claim I did this to further disguise myself, but I’ll admit I did it out of boredom. You’ll find yourself with a lot of free time on your hands if you ever run away to a strange city where you can’t allow yourself to make any new friends.
It only takes me a few minutes to get to the gallery because it’s close to my apartment. The place is empty at the moment, the exhibition doesn’t begin until eight. Jeff’s buzzing around in a frantic rush to have everything ready by the time people start arriving. The artist whose work is being displayed is called John Kinsella, he’s in his early thirties and has shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. I recognise him standing over by the corner, sipping on a glass of wine. His picture was in the newsletter that goes around all the galleries this month.
The other girl who works here, Maggie, shoves a bunch of fairy lights into my arms and instructs me to hang them outside in the little garden area, where people go to have a cigarette. I nod and head outside, where I hang them along the top of the wall that separates the gallery from the business next door.
“Watch you don’t fall,” says a voice behind me. I’m standing on a rickety chair as I hang up the lights. I turn around and find the artist John standing there, a lit cigarette in his hand.
“I’ll be careful,” I reply with a small smile, as I step down and shift the chair over to hang the remainder of the lights.
John stands by the door silently watching me, and it’s a little bit off-putting. When I’m done I turn to go back inside, but he places a hand on my arm. I stare into his face and wait for him to say whatever it is he wants to say to me.
“Are you doing anything tonight?” he asks, stubbing out the end of his smoke.
I plaster on a fake smile and gesture with my hands. “Of course, I’m working as you can see.”
He shakes his head and grins. “No, I meant after the exhibition.”
He must be one of those artists. You know, the kind who think their rock star status means that all the girls will jump on the opportunity to go out with them. I’m sure there are lots of girls who would want to, but I just don’t find the unwashed bohemian look very appealing any more. I probably would have thought he was a complete catch in my younger years, but not now.
Everything that happened to me before I left Tribane sort of matured me a little. And the sad thing is, I still think about Ethan almost every night before I go to sleep. All men seem to pale in comparison to his strong, untouchable beauty.
“Sorry, I’ve got plans then too,” I tell him. Like say, locking myself up in my apartment because I’m so frightened of who or what might come looking for me. I slip back inside the gallery. This is the problem, even though I might not find John particularly attractive, I probably would have gone for a drink with him just for something to do. But I can’t, because if I let one person into my life it won’t be long before others follow, and I’m so scared of being discovered.