Chapter 1
ONE
Kit
Anstruther, Scotland
Present Day
Kit woke to find himself staring down at his bed, the sheet and duvet in complete disarray. He sighed before dropping to the floor and glaring mutinously up at the corner of the ceiling that he’d wedged himself into.
“I’m such a fucking stereotype,” he muttered to himself in a hoarse voice. He took himself over to the mirror, opening his mouth and checking out his throat. Red and swollen—like that time he’d contracted tonsillitis back when he was a child.
Back when he was human.
He needed to feed. But, these days, feeding was a chore. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, only that blood no longer sustained him like it should. It was bland and unfulfilling, like eating cardboard.
Regardless, Kit changed into something more appropriate for the outdoors and left the house, taking his usual route towards the coastal path, inhaling the salty air. The folks who lived in the seaside village all shared the same scent; fresh, like the sea had seeped into their bones.
Kit didn’t go for the first person he passed, or the second, or the third. He waited until he found someone walking alone: a man of middle age, average looks, and an unthreatening presence. Kit walked right up to him, stopping the man in his tracks.
“Don’t speak,” Kit said. “Don’t panic. Come with me.”
The man followed Kit down the street and then down a short lane. At this time of night, few were likely to come across them, but Kit still kept an ear out for any passersby.
“You won’t notice a thing,” Kit promised, and then sunk his teeth into the man’s wrist.
Kit knew how it felt to be hurt by the bite of a vampire, so he made it painless. He fed efficiently, drawing as much blood as possible without affecting the man. As expected, it tasted of nothing in particular, other than a hint of cabbage.
Kit let go of the man, wiping a hand over his face to clean himself. It wasn’t even worth licking the blood off. He’d shower when he got home.
“Go back to the main road. Continue on your way.”
The man did as Kit told him once again, returning to his walk as if nothing was amiss.
Once he was gone, Kit sped—too fast for human eyes to see—back to his little rented house.
It wasn’t much to look at, but it boasted a coveted sea view from the first floor.
So that’s where he went, to the top of the house, where he perched on the armchair by the window and watched as the midnight waves rolled in.
He wrapped his arms around his knees. It might have been spring, but it was far from warm yet.
Not that temperature affected him in the same way as before, but even the recent infusion didn’t heat him up.
He put a hand to his throat, checking for tenderness.
The blood had done the job of healing him, but he wasn’t sated.
Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever be full again.
In life, hunger had been no stranger to him, so he shouldn’t have been surprised that it followed him in death.
But the gnawing in his gut persisted, staying with him like an unwanted houseguest. At one point in his undead life, he’d found some level of satisfaction from feeding, a vital escape when he’d needed one. No longer, however.
Kit sat there contemplating his increased appetite as the gulls squawked outside.
One neighbour’s house had them nesting on the chimneys, and soon there would be ugly little hatchlings with their insistent shouting for food.
Kit understood them. How he yearned to be full, to experience anything other than this unending emptiness inside of him.
You’re never going to be happy, darling.
It had been so long that Kit couldn’t remember if Lawrence had ever actually said those words to him, or if Kit had conjured them up from nowhere.
He’d thought himself ready to move on after years of hiding himself away—that he could have a life. Friends. Fulfilment.
How typical of Kit to be wrong.
He was more alone now than ever. The connection tethering him to Lawrence was gone, along with its poisonous bond. It had been a tangible thing, reliable even in its awfulness. But it had been snuffed out in the instant that Shaun killed their creator.
Sighing at his melancholy, he moved to the bed and flipped open his laptop.
The mail icon showed hundreds of notifications, the majority being pointless subscriptions and marketing emails he hadn’t got around to deleting, but, interspersed throughout the e-clutter, were messages from the very vampires he’d been ignoring.
Shaun emailed him the most often, but DJ came a close second.
There were even a few from Rake, though Kit didn’t know why any of them felt like they owed it to Kit to keep in contact.
They barely knew each other, and yet, in the years since the debacle in Brighton, the triad had doggedly attempted to engage with him.
Kit hated being pitied. He was, he would admit, rather pitiable.
But having to read DJ’s stream of consciousness about their latest adventures, or Shaun’s tentative attempts to connect, or Rake’s matter-of-fact summaries of the recent goings-on just made him seethe with anger.
It was like they wanted to rub it in his face; how blindingly in love and happy they all were.
Ever the masochist, Kit opened Shaun’s latest email.
Hi Kit,
I hope you’re doing well!
I’ve heard Anstruther is lovely this time of year - would love to see some photographs of the sea if you have any.
We’re all doing good - working on our latest game. It’s about vampires. All a bit meta, of course, but we figured we might as well lean into the whole thing.
You should come for a visit again soon. It’s been too long. Or we could come and visit you? DJ is always up for a holiday.
Just let me know when might work best!
Until next time,
Shaun
Kit slammed the lid of the laptop shut, catching it at the last moment to avoid smashing the screen to smithereens. Within seconds he left the house.
Anstruther at night was quiet, with no one around to see as he ran down the street, far faster than any human could, and then kept going.
He didn’t stop until his entire body shook with exertion.
Hands on knees, he glanced around. He’d gone miles inland and now stood in the middle of nowhere.
Tilled earth lay underfoot, ready for planting.
There wasn’t a building in sight, only wide-open fields and a few fences.
Kit craned his neck back, looking up at the sky.
Stars stretched across the midnight blue in every direction, winking smugly down at him, mocking him for his dramatics.
He reached for his phone to check his location, but realised when patting his pockets that he’d left it at home, lying on his bed.
He screamed in frustration, wild and untethered.
Once his scream petered out, he slumped down onto the ground.
He held his hands out, watching the tremors that ran through them.
Unsure of the time, he glanced to the east. There were the first signs of the rising sun. He’d almost burned once before, and he wasn’t keen to repeat the experience.
Maybe he should stop running away from his problems. It only seemed to get him into more trouble.
Kit made his way back towards the coast, walking at a human pace to rest his aching muscles. It was as humiliating as it was boring, trudging along through the fields. There wasn’t even anything to look at but endless farmland.
At last, he reached a dense expanse of trees, stretching on either side as far as he could see.
The sky was now more of a cobalt colour, so he chose to go through the forest rather than find a longer way around.
He was forced to duck under low-hanging branches, which snagged on his curls, growing increasingly irate with every branch.
He couldn’t avoid it—the trees were all bunched together, the area wild and overgrown.
Without realising it, he waded through a bramble bush, which tore at his shirt and jabbed at his skin.
Yanking himself free, he paused for a moment and screwed his eyes shut in frustration.
This entire night had been bullshit from start to finish.
Finally, the edge of the tree line came into sight. Before he could take another step, the back of his neck prickled with awareness.
Kit stilled.
He stayed frozen on the spot, all senses on high alert, but nothing made itself known.
As he was about to move, a howl split the air. Loud and soulful, it lasted for several seconds and sent fear jolting up his spine.
Kit didn’t wait to see what creature had made the noise.
He ran.