Page 64 of Sacrifice

“People warm to me. It’s not usually a problem.”

Eve considered that and smiled. Lucien had a knack for making anything alright.

It wasthe early hours of the morning now and riding through the London streets, Eve didn’t think she’d ever seen them so quiet. The night sky had begun its slow creep toward day, sapphire blue spreading across the horizon. The landscape had lifted out of darkness, bathed in a thin grey glow.

Eve’s senses were alive like she’d never known them before. Even in the dim crepuscular light of near dawn, color popped from every shop window and Christmas decoration. Perfectly relaxed in the passenger seat of Lucien’s car, she took in details of the street she’d travelled a thousand times before, like a tourist visiting for the first time.

She absorbed the detail: the shine of baubles that dangled in shop doorways reflecting the street, the cracks in paving slabs that perfectly mapped the subsidence beneath, the twist of cables that ran high overhead, snaking power from one building to the next. She was aware of every sensation, feeling the cold concrete beneath her feet and the smooth surface of the glass in the windows against her palm without leaving the comfort of the car.

Her senses were alive. Every surface was known to her, every temperature, every smell. She could taste the discarded chicken bones in an overflowing rubbish bin and feel the expansion of proving bread in the smell from the corner bakery. The thick aroma of grinding coffee beans poured from an all-night cafe. Coffee.

“We should stop for a coffee,” Eve said, suddenly consumed by the need for it.

Lucien shook his head. “We’re nearly back to your house now. We can get one there.” He scanned the street ahead. “I don’t want you out in the open.”

Eve eyed the empty streets and saw the glow of colored auras held back behind brickwork. “It’s not instant Nescafe I want. There’s no one around. I’d see Michaels a mile off now, I know what I’m looking for.”

“Even so.”

The arabica addicted monster in Eve grumbled. That wouldn’t do. The rich roast of real coffee would be fantastic in her mouth and Lucien would just have to find a way. She slipped easily into his thoughts and reminded him of the taste, then replayed the moment she’d thrown her coffee all over him outside the museum. He rolled his eyes at her.

“Coffee’s very important to me. It’s how we met, after all.”

“Is it though?”

“Well, it was how Ithoughtwe met. Come on.” She smiled inside his head, and she saw it echo on his features.

Lucien turned the car into Eve’s home street. They were getting further away from the cafe, but she saw he was wavering. “I’ll get one for you. How about that? And maybe one for me.” He gave her a cheeky wink. “Go inside, and I’ll meet you in your bedroom.”

Eve didn’t ask how he intended to let himself in. Lucien could do anything. He’d just make that happen and not sneaking himup the stairs would be easier all round. Fresh coffee. She could taste it already. “Deal.”

The house was in darkness when they pulled up outside and Eve got a little thrill from the knowledge that Lucien watched her every step. She turned the key as quietly as she could and slipped inside as he drove away. She’d not taken a step toward the stairs, however, before she noticed the voices. A chink of light spilled from beneath the kitchen door.

“Look, I really don’t see why this couldn’t have waited. We’ve all got work in the morning. This is ridiculous.”

“Like I said, Mr Areli, this is a time sensitive matter.”

Eve crossed the hallway but stopped just short of opening the door.

“What’s the name of your superior–” The sound of Eve’s father’s voice cut off mid-sentence and the edges of the kitchen door glowed brightly white in the frame.

“You understand completely. It’s important to co-operate with the police.” She recognized that voice. It was Michaels.

“I understand completely,” her father said in a dazedly flat tone. “It’s important to co-operate with the police.”

Fury fired in Eve’s veins. How dare he involve her family? She threw open the door. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. DI Michaels and her father sat on either side of the kitchen table, both looking perfectly serene.

“Oh, hello pumpkin, this nice man from the local police station came to check on you. What did you say your name was again, officer?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Michaels.

“It doesn’t matter,” repeated Eve’s father.

Eve strode forward. “Stop it. Leave him alone.” The quintessence throbbed deep in her chest. It rolled and expanded, and she felt around inside herself, looking for the right way to use it. The air around her shimmered, and she became aware ofsomething falling around her, gossamer-thin and rippling like a veil. She tried to reach out to touch it but found that her arms had been bound to her side by some invisible force.

“What the hell?” She lurched ludicrously from side to side, trying to wrench her arms free. A second figure stepped out of the shadows. Dark-skinned with close-cropped hair that revealed a knub on either side of his forehead. Eve stared hard at him. “Do you have horns? Jesus, he’s got horns.”

“I think you’ve met DC Thorne.

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