Escape

  The next morning Kate woke up to the sound of clanking. 

  What was going on? She pushed out of the quilt and pulled on her dressing gown before stumbling into the open plan area. 

   Her kitchen was a sight. Pots and pans were being thrown above her sink and stove, whizzing from one end of the room to the other, steam rising from them as they went. 

  Shards of china were strewn about the floor. The sink was filled with steaming, soapy water. A bitter blast of burning wafted her way, which eventually set the fire alarm off, causing water to cascade down. 

  “Varjak,” she bellowed, wiping at her forehead. “What the Hell are you doing?”

  The chaos paused - the pots and pans in mid air, the rushing water from the faucet. Underneath the airborne objects a frozen Varjak faded in, eyes wild and spherical. 

  “Well?” Kate persisted. He dropped from his position like a stone, stuffing the pots and pans hastily into the sink. 

  Water continued to pour from the vents until Kate went to the switch and turned it off. 

  “Do I have to ask you again?”

  Varjak shuffled his foot. “I was trying to make you breakfast, so you can see what a good house guest I am, but it's harder when you're half-dead and your hands go straight through things!”

  Kate frowned. “Huh? I thought you could control that?”

  “Not really! You have to concentrate to lift solid objects, you know. It's a bit of a skill.”

  “Then why did you attempt it in the first place?” she asked.

  “Because I didn't think concentrating would be so damn hard after all these years of being undead!” he whined.

  “Well, that was silly,” snorted Kate.

   Varjak grinned. “I agree.” 

   In spite of the heat and moisture in the room, Varjak's skin remained its marble tone, untainted. 

   Not dead. But not quite alive either. Although it looked human, his body worked differently to her own. It certainly took a bit of time to get used to it.

   She came towards him and placed a hand on his chest.

   “Who’s the pervert now?” Varjak goaded.

   “You,” she replied distractedly. It was like touching a giant snowman. Solid, with a touch of frailness in his thin skin, and cuttingly cold. 

   “Well, you're sort of creeping me out.”

   “Creeping you out, of all people?” she said, stepping away. 

   Varjak squashed his index and thumb together to demonstrate. 

   “Just slightly.”

   Kate's smile grew, but it did not reach her eyes. “Good, I hope I do.”

   Varjak smirked, and leaned against the sink. “So. What are your plans for the day?”

   “Not sure yet,” Kate shrugged.

   “Any dates with anyone in particular?”

   “Shut up, Varjak,” said Kate sternly. She was in no mood for it. 

   He pouted. 

  Kate turned on her heel and went to her room. 

  He did not follow her, but instead stayed behind to tidy up the mess. 

  Kate emerged a short time later, kitted in a red v-neck jumper, grey skirt, and grey heels.   

  Varjak wolf-whistled when she entered the kitchen, naturally.

  “I knew you were going on a date,” he grinned. 

  Kate ignored him as she reached for her keys. 

  Varjak got there first, swinging upside down and dangling the keys off his small finger in Kate's face.

  “There you go dear. You kids have a nice time.”

  “You sound like my grandmother,” Kate muttered as she shrugged on her coat. 

  “That was the point.”

  “Good.”

  “Hey, you're really catching onto my way of thinking.”

  Kate paused, eyes wide with incredulity. “Trust me, I'm not.”

  Varjak grinned, and suddenly appeared at her side. “Oh yes, you are. You're becoming a little obtuse in your old age. Like me.”

  “Sure, sure,” said Kate tiredly, moving to the door. But Varjak once again had moved faster, and was now blocking the exit in his usual upside-down manner. “No, seriously, where are you going?”

  “To the shops, dinner, then James’.”

  Varjak performed an upside-down frown. “But you don't even know where he lives.”

  Kate picked up the phone book on her small table, and waved it about in his upside-down face. 

  “Now I do.”

  “Ooh, what's that?” asked Varjak, snatching the phone book and turning it upside-down before she could reply. 

  “Content yourself with that while I'm away,” said Kate, ducking underneath the yellow strings of his hair to leave. 

   Varjak wasn’t going to let that happen. 

   He appeared next to her, phonebook clutched to his chest. 

  “Do you honestly think I'm letting you go alone? You need adult supervision, you do. And I'm here to provide it.”

   Kate groaned. “You can come if you want, but you're not revealing yourself until I tell you to. That means invisibility now.”

   Varjak's jaw dropped. “Right now? But what if there's babes on the side walk on the way there?”

  “Then they'll probably think you're going out with me, for one thing. For another, you're half-dead.”

  Varjak grunted. “Fine.” 

  He disappeared so quickly that Kate yelped. She still wasn't sure how long it was going to take to get used to this. 

  They were in her car after a brief trip down the elevator - Varjak out of habit had pulled his seatbelt on, but Kate reminded him again that he was undead for one thing, and that an airborne seatbelt might look odd for another, so he took it off with a snort. 

  Then she and the floating phonebook were on the road. 

  Kate had to punch Varjak in the face several times as he floated overhead, wolf-whistling at just about any girl they passed in the shops.

  She had dinner at a restaurant, pretending she was on her phone so she could talk to Varjak lowly, and at around ten at night she made her way to James’.

  “Can't you appear in front of his house and tell me the damn number?” asked Kate as they sat in the parked car.

  “I can only appear in places I've already been to,” sighed Varjak, twisting the map round again. 

  He was still invisible - it was unsettling for Kate to see a map spinning in mid-air. 

  “So what do you suggest? We go to every door in the street until we find James?” she groaned.

  “Didn't the directory person tell you the number of the house?” said the disembodied voice.

  “No, just the street.”

  “That was helpful.”

  Kate groaned. The map seemed to fold itself up and shove itself into the glove compartment. 

  “What about his car? Do you remember what that looked like?”

  “It was green and small, I think,” said Kate, narrowing her eyes as she peered out. 

  Three green cars, one of them too big to be James's. So that left two houses. Fifty-fifty chance.

  “Off we go then,” said Varjak, sensing her plan, and the car door opened. 

  Kate's car door opened, too, and the pair of them strolled down the dark street to the nearest house.  

  Past tall, ivy shrubbery and a well-kept front lawn, Kate took a step forwards and rang the bell. 

  Shuffle. Bang. Crack. Light came on. 

  Varjak and Kate exchanged looks. 

  Only then did it occur to Kate that she could have sent Varjak in to investigate, but by that time it was too late, as the door swung open. 

  James stood in the threshold with a faintly bewildered expression.

  “Kate,” he said tonelessly.

  “Hello, James,” she said quietly, her own eyes downcast. 

  They stood for a few moments. 

  James opened his mouth once or twice, but each time he closed it again. 

  Kate cleared her throat.

  “Get on with it!” hissed a voice, so close to Kate's ear. 

  James backed away from Kate, expression grave, hand flying to the door to close it. 

  Varjak was too quick for him, and held the door open. 

  James's emerald eyes widened.

  “He's here?” he asked Kate in a low whisper, releasing the door like it was a poisonous snake. Kate nodded slowly. 

  James scanned the air, as though he could seek out Varjak. “Uh, Var-jak? Are you there?”

  “No, I'm not,” said Varjak dryly, appearing at Kate's side. James took a step back. “So you are real, then.”

  “Indeed. Hey, can we come in? Really rather chilly out here, wouldn't you agree Kate?” Varjak said. 

  Kate nodded again, her eyes unmoving from James. He was quite a babe.

  “Yes, come in then,” murmured James, pushing the door further. 

  They entered, Kate blushing, Varjak bold as brass, and took a look around. 

  Laminate flooring. Whitewashed walls. Halogen lights on the ceiling above their heads. Leather sofas. It was common styling, yet still airy and bright. 

  There were no pictures around, nor was there much in the way of decoration at all. It all seemed bare. 

   It was a disturbing bareness, as though they had gathered in someone else’s home, a stranger’s.  

   Varjak and Kate lowered themselves onto one of the cocoa brown sofas. 

   James nestled onto the other. 

   There was silence in the room, broken only by the crossing, uncrossing, and re-crossing of Varjak‘s legs. 

  He wasn't used to behaving himself, as Kate told him to do on the way there. 

  “Nice pad,” remarked Varjak, looking around and nodding approvingly to himself.

  “Thank you,” said James, looking uncomfortable. 

   It was understandable. After all, he was talking to a half-ghost who could think of nothing better to do than to comment on his furnishing. 

  “So, where are your parents?” Kate asked.

  “Oh, parents?” he repeated. “They're out.”

  “Okay,” said Kate, and everyone fell into a brief silence. “I'm glad you believe me, James,” she continued eventually. 

   James smiled wanly. 

  “You couldn‘t blame me.” His eyes flicked over to Varjak. “In fact, even now I'm still finding it a bit difficult.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Kate, also looking at Varjak, whose eyes were flicking from one to the other like a suspicious cat. 

  “So, what are the undead like? Do they have any particular abilities?”

  “Blood-sucking,” Varjak answered, like he was discussing the weather. “Invisibility. The ability to walk through solid objects. Shape-shifting. Being able to disappear and reappear. No need for any nutrition.”

  “Wow. Impressive.” James had curled like a kitten from Varjak. Kate was waiting for him to fall off the seat any second. 

   Varjak shook his head and waggled a finger at him. “I personally wouldn't recommend it though.”

   James nodded. 

  “The blood-sucking,” he said, recoiling further into the leather. “How does that work?”

   And it went on, Kate interrupting occasionally, for an hour. 

   James was bursting with questions about the undead and Varjak's life - his eyes were glittering with knowledge. 

   It was only when James began delving into Varjak's past before the transformation, to which Varjak had gone rather quiet, that Kate intervened, saying they'd better go. 

   Reluctantly James nodded and showed them out, Varjak only too happy to leave in contrast.

   “Kate,” James said, grabbing her wrist once Varjak had skipped off behind a bush. 

   Kate stared. Her brain was slowly melting into complete mush. She could make out the yellow flecks in his single visible iris. 

   She prayed Varjak had the sense to wait in the car, or at least make himself invisible, for it would only be a matter of time before he realised her lack of presence. 

   “Yes?”

   His larynx slid up and down through his pale skin. 

   Then he released her, regarding her carefully. 

   His eyes were slightly narrowed. “Nothing. Just be careful with Varjak. I mean, how do you know for sure he's not one of the bad ones?”

   Good question. 

   “I don't know, James,” she said tiredly. “But I have no choice but to trust him for now. He seems genuine enough.”

   “Right,” was James's brief reply. 

   Then he gave her a pat on the shoulder before disappearing inside. 

   Expecting Varjak to be lurking around, a star-struck Kate began looking about for him

   But he didn't appear. Presumably he'd actually waited sensibly in the car. 

   She turned the corner and made her way down the street, where right enough Varjak was waiting in the passenger seat. 

   She got in the car, unable to hide her grin. 

   Of course, Varjak noticed.

   “Someone has a boyfriend,” he gasped dramatically, by way of greeting. 

   Kate turned to him, ready to scold, but suddenly she found herself laughing. 

   Why she was laughing, she had no idea. And neither did Varjak, judging by the expression on his face. 

   “What's so funny?” he asked, head tilting slightly. 

   She shrugged, running a finger along the edge of her eye. 

   “Oh, I don't know,” she grinned, twisting the key. 

   “Right,” said Varjak, thick eyebrow raised. 

   It was a fairly silent journey home, Kate biting back a smile the whole way, Varjak digging through the glove compartment and pulling out various treasures. 

   When they parked, they left the car and passed a few out-coming people as they took the elevator to her door. 

   Kate inserted her key and twisted. They went inside.

   And found the place completely wrecked.

   Kate stood at the door, rooted to the spot. 

   Varjak had flung himself in head first, unaffected. 

   Kate watched him as he scanned the room, his back to her, and began to rifle through the items that were strewn across the floor. 

   When he turned back to her eventually, he glowered. 

   It felt strange seeing Varjak glower.

   “Close the door, you idiot,” he muttered, gesturing at the door. She did, and leaned her back against it. “And turn the light on - dimly! Can’t see a damn thing with these eyes.” 

   Could there just not be drama for one day? 

   Varjak had turned back to his rifling, throwing books and newspapers and ornaments out of his way as he dug his way through the darkness. 

   Eventually, he resurfaced, sighing. 

   Kate inclined her head toward him.

   “What is it?”

   Varjak’s eyes rolled to the outer edge of their socket over his shoulder. “Well who do you think did this?”

   She gulped. The answer flitted briefly across her mind. “How am I meant to know?”

   He sighed. “Of course, there's the possibility it's just burglars. But if you look.” He strode over to the door and opened it, pointing at it's untainted edge. “The door hasn't been damaged. And, if I'm right - ” He disappeared for a minute or two, then reappeared on the ceiling. “Yes. None of the windows have been tampered with either. Unless you have any secret passageways?”

   “Not that I know of,” Kate frowned, suppressing another gulp.

   “Exactly,” Varjak said, appearing inches from her face. “No signs of forced entry. So how could burglars get in?”

   Kate gulped so loudly that both she and Varjak looked straight at each other. 

   He nodded, knowing she understood.

   “What does this mean then?” she asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

   “I don't know,” said Varjak, passing a hand over his forehead. For once, every trace of amusement and school-boy-ness had dissolved from his face. 

   Kate took a step forwards. “This doesn't mean I have to leave...?”

   Varjak's gaze snapped, eyes wide with realisation, and his shockingly cold fingers curled into her shoulders. “That's exactly what you should do.”

   Kate's jaw dropped. “You're not serious. I can't just drop everything and leave! I‘ve been here two days!”

   “And you'll only be here for five minutes more if you stay!” Varjak was gesticulating wildly. “They'll come back for you! Whose to say they're not in hiding, waiting for you right now?”

   Kate shook her head. “Impossible. They would have attacked by now.”

   Something in Varjak's face softened. His grip gave way a little. “True. But it doesn't mean to say they won't come back. Or that they aren't outside.”

   “True,” said Kate, working hard to control her voice.

   “But, it’s weird - ” Varjak passed a hand over his face. “Trashing your place…they must know I’m with you, and this must be a scaring tactic to goad us into wherever they want us to go. But they don’t know where we’re going to go. But they’re probably tracking us - ” He cried out in frustration.

   “We’re trapped already?” asked Kate, unimpressed. “They must have been spying on you for a while if it’s happened this quickly.”

   “Yes - yes…” Varjak was muttering.

   Kate stared at him, wavering on the spot. 

   “Well let's not just stand here,” he murmured suddenly, brusquely disappearing again. 

   Kate didn't need to know where he'd gone.  

   She went through to her room. As she expected, a suitcase had been tossed onto the bed, and Varjak was hastily throwing her belongings into it. 

   She raised an eyebrow. “Must you be so destructive with my belongings?”

   Without looking up, Varjak replied. “You are aware there's most likely a want on your head right now?”

   “Good point.”

   Varjak did not reply, and continued to pack her case, Kate helping where she could. 

   He lugged her suitcase to the door, at a human pace for Kate's sake, and stopped abruptly.

   “What is it?” asked Kate.

   There was a pause between her words and his. “I don't know how I'm going to get you out of here safely. If they - ”

   Kate shook her head vigorously. “No. They wouldn't be. Didn't you say they were quite impatient? When explaining it to James?”

   “I did,” said Varjak distractedly, eyes focused on the door as though willing it to lead them to safety.

    Kate sighed, irritated. 

   “We can't just stand here all night! We just have to risk it!” And with that, she pushed Varjak aside and pulled open the door. 

    He didn't even have time to react as she stormed out, dragging her suitcase behind her.

    Hastily, he turned back to the table and grabbed her purse (it seemed that in her panic she had forgotten it) and darted after her, clicking the door shut behind him. 

    Kate was steam rolling ahead down the path. 

    Varjak caught up with her, breathing intact. 

    “I've got your purse - that's got your credit card in it, doesn't it? - and I've put $300 in your suitcase. Well, roughly. And your passport's in the little front bit of the suitcase and - ”

    Kate did not stop walking, but turned her head to him. She spat as she spoke. “Passport? What do you mean? I'm not leaving the country!”

  Varjak groaned, then slammed his palms into her shoulder blades and pushed her and the suitcase on. 

  “Get off me!”

  “Shut up!” Varjak hissed, gagging her with a hand and continuing to push her on with the other. “Really! It’s no wonder you work in a café and not for the CIA! You’re useless!”

  “Mmmphlsblllolp!” Kate protested. 

  Varjak only released her when they were in the car, himself in the back. 

  “Start driving,” he ordered. 

  Startled by his tone, Kate obeyed, veering away unscathed. She’d got her car back on the way back from the hotel with James.  

  “What were you saying before?” The ocean lay a creased inked satin on their left side. 

  “I said, get your ice block off my face.”

  “No, before that.”

  “I said, how do you know where I work?”

  “I did do a little investigating, you know. Good to get all the information you can on another person, especially when you’re in a life like mine.”

  Only once they were clear of Kate's neighbourhood and were on the road to mainland California did her earlier question come back to her.

  “You said something about my passport before,” she said, eyes fixed on the road. 

  Varjak pulled a Poppet out of it’s box and tipped it into his mouth. 

  “You know Arnaud?” asked Varjak, crunching. She nodded, brow furrowed. “Well, he has a son called Ben, and I'm pretty sure he lives in France now. That's where you should go.”

  “Pretty sure? You're basing this on possibilities?” Kate hissed back at him. “I’ve never been to France in my life! Never been on holiday alone! And you want me to move to France in one day?”

  “Yes,” he said, unabashed. 

  Kate breathed through her nose. “Alright. I've got nowhere else to go, I suppose.”

  Varjak was relieved. “I thought you'd take a lot more convincing than that.”

  Kate shrugged. “Look. I have very little option. When I saw my house like that I even knew myself I couldn’t stay there. Not when it wasn’t burglars.” She was silent for a moment. “And I take it you want me to go to Ben's because he might have the information we need to defeat the undead?”

  “Told you, you’re coming round to my way of thinking,” said Varjak, and his old humour crept back into his voice. 

  Kate had to smile a little as she turned off to the right, in the direction of the airport. She was good at remembering routes to places, even if she'd only been once. 

  Her grandparents used to tell her that it was a trait of her mother‘s. 

  Kate had wished they were right. 

  The airport loomed ahead as they veered into the parking lot, finding a free space in the overnight parking section. 

   Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of life, and wouldn’t be until five. 

   “Of course, I’m so stupid,” said Kate, resting on the bonnet of her car. Her voice rang like a bell through the empty parking tower. “It’s not going to be open for hours.” She looked at Varjak, the weight of her worry pulling on her skin. “I’m exhausted, Varjak. If I drive anymore, I might cause an accident. I can’t go to a hotel. How close can they be? Can’t they only appear in places they’ve been? But what if they’ve been following me? What if they’re waiting for me to sleep - ”

    Varjak, who had been milling about at a grey-stained pillar, walked to her. 

  He stopped a foot in front, and reached to push a nut brown curl from Kate’s eye. 

  “I can sense their presence if they’re near enough. You can sleep in the car, I’ll be keeping watch.” He winked. “I’ll be your hero, baby.”

  Her dimples cracked the sullen sallow. 

  “You…are Captain Corny,” she laughed. “Where did you even hear that song?”

  “Female bathrooms tend to play mushy nonsense,” he explained, hand slipping quickly from her face. “Right! Make yourself comfortable in the captain’s quarters, m’lady!” He opened the back door and extended a hand out. “After you. No one’s going to sink on Captain Corny’s ship!”

  “You just can’t help it, can you,” she murmured, crawling into the soft back seat of her car and tucking in her legs. 

  The door closed, and Varjak went to the driver’s seat. 

  Kate sat up on her elbows, a soft smile growing as she looked at Varjak.

  “You mean to tell me you’re really going to sit there all night as I sleep?”

  “Yup.”

  “Even though you’ll be bored?”

  “Yup.”

  “Even if I snore?”

  “Especially if you snore. It’s better than listening to Enrique Iglesias all day.”

  She snorted, then fell back on her elbows. “I don’t mind that song actually. If we ever get out of this I’m going to play the song until even you die.”

  “Even me?” He turned to her, and laughed. “I’m closer to death than you are!”

  Kate fell silent. “I wonder if that means you’re easier to kill. Not that I’m plotting or anything.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Are you easier to kill than me? Because in that case maybe I’m better guarding you.”

  Varjak sighed. 

  “In terms of physical strength, yes, we’re exactly half as easy to kill. But we have such strong natural defence systems that we’re almost always protected. We never tire, we never grow hungry, we can teleport in the blink of an eye, and we can become invisible. And that’s amongst other stuff. Even if you get past all that, only limited things can kill an undead from what I know.”

  Kate’s eyes were closed. “Mmhm. That makes sense, I guess.”

  “That’s why we need Ben,” he continued. “He absolutely must have the information. It’s crucial we get it. It’s crucial we get him before they do.”

   Kate’s awareness was beginning to wane. Varjak’s words began to water. 

   “ - swore I would protect you, swore I would track you down when the time was right…might have brought you danger, but it was inevitable. It was only a matter of time…needed to know you were safe for my own peace of mind, but I had to stay at the Swinton, undercover, out of the way, somewhere they wouldn’t suspect…colonies all over the world, and if we’re captured, we will die without doubt.”

***

   “Kaaate. Kate!” A hissing stirred her. 

   Her eyelids parted, and saw Varjak was hanging over the backseat, hand on her own and rocking her awake. 

   “People are starting to arrive. I think it’s about seven now. Your car clock’s not on. We better get ready to go.”

   She moaned softly. “Varjak, I’m still exhausted. Are you sure there’s still a threat?”

   Varjak groaned. “Don’t be lazy now. We have no time for that. We have to get to France as soon as possible, and not just for your sake. They’ll be on high alert now they know where you are.”

  She sat up with gravity. “I don’t want to do this. I’m not cut out for this.”

  Varjak tutted. “Don’t be silly either. You were born to do this. Come on. You get yourself up and I’ll grab your suitcase. I won’t be using any disappearing tricks - too many people around and too much energy wasted.” 

  He slipped out of the car, then went to the boot, prising it open. 

  Kate stretched, then took a look in the back view mirror. Her hair was tightly curled, and any mascara was now charcoal dust on the lower rims of her eyes. 

  A hand knocked at the window. 

  Kate squealed, but it was only Varjak’s angular face leering in. 

  “Come on!” He mouthed, opening the door for her. 

  She wriggled out, then stood to attention under Varjak’s blue stare.

  “I have to become invisible if you don’t want to pay for me,” he explained. 

  Kate blinked. “Isn’t that risky?”

  “Yes. But I don’t think you actually have enough for me anyway. It’s alright- I can slip into an empty elevator, not go anywhere and walk back out invisible.”

  Kate was reluctant, but this was what they did. 

  Five minutes later, a lone Kate was dragging her suitcase down the stairs. 

  Varjak hadn’t been keen on the lift - the undead could have tripped the mechanics and cornered them. 

  There was no immediate reason to rush, according to Kate, but Varjak had strongly disagreed, steam rolling ahead and forcing her to keep up. 

  She argued that this would make them look more obvious - Varjak eventually agreed, and they slowed. 

  They were first in line at the booking desk. Kate presented the receptionist her passport and credit card. 

  “Can I have a ticket to France please?” she asked, feeling stupid. She heard a groan and thought it was the receptionist, before realising the real culprit. 

  “You can't just say 'France',” hissed Varjak, so quietly that Kate strained to hear him, “You've got to be specific. Say Paris. We've got most chance of finding him there.”

  “Which destination in France?” asked the receptionist, after clapping commands into his computer. 

  “Paris,” she yelped, as something sharp prodded her. 

  The receptionist typed once more. “When would you like to leave?”

  “As soon as possible,” she said with a smile, trying to make up for all the abnormal hissing in her ear.

  More typing. “Passport, please?”

  She handed it over. He skimmed over the back page, then, satisfied, set it back down on the desk. 

  “$495, please.”

  Kate's heart stuck fast. 

  “Check your purse,” murmured Varjak urgently, prodding her purse to strengthen his point.   

  She handed over the $300 that was folded up in her hand, and searched around in her purse for more money. 

  She found $40, and handed that over, then when she came up dry she pulled out her Visa card. 

  “Will you accept this?”

  Thankfully, the receptionist nodded. “Yes.”

  Breathing out, Kate handed over the card and took the $340 back. 

  As she pulled out her purse, she noticed something white, rectangle, and laminated sitting at the bottom. 

  The ticket to the Swinton. 

  The object that started this. Her mind cast back to the night she met Varjak. 

  Was that really the place they died? The image she had constructed of her parents wedding contrasted with her own experiences at the Swinton. 

  She focused on the happier one, the one with laughing people, the group of students who had welcomed her and asked her over: Eric, Delia, James...

  James. She was leaving behind James.

  No, she wasn't. 

  No way was she leaving James. Not when the undead could follow her trail to his house.

  At the sudden change in her expression, Varjak went rigid at her back. She could feel him if not see him. 

  “Here you go,” smiled the receptionist, and when the numb Kate did not take the ticket Varjak pushed her arm up and pushed her fingers round the card. 

  She turned away, pale with glazed eyes, and was guided over to a seat by an invisible Varjak. 

  “What's wrong? What have you just figured out?” he asked, sitting them both down.

  “James.”

  Varjak breathed through his nose, with irritation or not Kate couldn't be sure. 

  “You're worried they'll come for him,” he concluded.

  Kate looked in his general direction. “Yes. I can't leave without him.”

  “But your flight...” Kate felt a waft of ice pass under her chin. “It's in an hour and a half. You don't have time to go back, and you don't have his number with you.”

  “I don't even remember it,” murmured Kate, resting her chin on her hand. 

  Varjak sighed hard. “Then if anyone's to go back for him, it has to be me. I can get there in half a second, but of course I can't transport him back quickly. Plus I'd have to convince him to actually go. I could always scare him, I suppose.”

  “Do whatever it takes,” said Kate. “Just leave me here until you get back. And don't even think about protesting,” she said sternly, which made Varjak close his mouth. “because if you don't bring him here then I'll get a refund and head straight back home.”

  “Alright, alright,” said Varjak, and Kate felt a pair of frosted snakes coiling round her neck. She stared at the emptiness in front of her, stunned, then slowly returned the gesture. 

  Hey, she was talking to thin air, she figured she may as well hug it. 

  “Behave yourself,” Varjak mumbled into her shoulder. The temperature of his body refreshed her. Her face nuzzled into his marble neck. 

  They both pulled away, and judging by the sound of semi-quavered footsteps Varjak had stood up. 

  “Promise me that if you encounter them, you'll do the sensible thing and run,” said Varjak. 

  Kate managed to crack a smile. “Just go, please.”

  The cutting breeze departed and was replaced by the warm air of the building. 

  He was gone. 

                          

Reviews

[tynamite]

This is interesting. Seems like Varjak wants Kate all to himself. If I was her, I would have stayed, and not be trusting of people so blindly. For all I know, Varjak could have setup the house being thrashed.

[FemmeSpookyCorpse]

It's funny...the more one is around a person (or, "undead person"), the more they grow on each other and can depend on each other for a helping hand, which is what you've done here. You've weaved two characters and their two different stories into one compelling book, so far. I'm loving the flow, complexity, and feel of the story = ]

[w2de35657u687y4324rf]

AWWWW, why did she remember James? I really dislike his character xD. He can't be trusted and he's a bit of an a*s. You've really put nerves on edge with this last chapter. Great, great job. I do say, the whole burglury thing was sort of expected, though. Still, I bought it and it was fine. You do a great job with Kate's outfits, very tasteful. Varjak and Kate seem to be kicking it off, kind of creepy, but hey, he's a great guy.