Page 14 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

Great. Perfect. Following a complete stranger to a street I’d never heard of. Got it.

Killigrew Street was a slice of nineteenth century London that time had forgotten. The cobblestones inclined gently, past terraced houses in faded pastels and old-fashioned street lamps that hadn’t changed in a century. A quaint florist’s shop caught the late afternoon sun, its windows a jungle of greenery and colour.

But it was what waited at the top that made me stop dead in my tracks.

The street opened into a circular courtyard, dominated by a behemoth of Victorian architecture. Four storeys of weathered stone and elaborate cornices stretched skyward, its countless windows staring down at us like hollow eyes.

“Here we are,” said Sebastián. “Welcome to Killigrew Street Hotel.”

My mouth fell open as I stared at the building, our apparent destination.

The place was a wreck.

Even worse than the old lighthouse on the edge of Braymore, where we all snuck in with bottles of cheap cider as teenagers—until Tom nearly went through the rotting floorboards one night.

Thick tangles of ivy crept up the once cream walls like grasping fingers. Many of the tall windows were either boarded up or smashed, leaving jagged teeth of glass in their frames. What remained of the original paintwork had chipped and peeled away in great flakes.

A rusted wrought-iron gate blocked our path, secured with a chunky padlock that looked far newer than its surroundings. Behind it, more weeds had claimed the small front garden, creating a jungle of brambles and nettles. The front steps leading to massive double doors werecrumbling. Above the entrance, elegant lettering spelled out “KILLIGREW STREET HOTEL” in faded gold paint.

A massive “FOR SALE” sign hung crooked on the gate, its red letters sun-bleached to a dull pink.

“This is where you wanted to bring me?” It came out as a choked whisper, and my stomach clenched as my mind calculated every horrible thing Sebastián might do to me once he’d locked me in his dungeon.

The man chuckled, a hint of a smile threatening one corner of his mouth. “It’s nicer on the inside.”

I’d rather not find out, thank you very much.

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could stick his “nicer inside,” when that now familiar icy sensation gripped my heart. The cold spread through my chest, tendrils of frost creeping outward until my whole body seized.

My legs wobbled. The horrible memory of Damien pressing his palm against my chest crashed over me, and the world tilted.

Sebastián’s hand shot out to steady me, but he didn’t quite touch me. His fingers hovered near my elbow, waiting. The gesture was oddly considerate.

“Come on.”

No. No, no,no.

“I think I’m just going to go home now,” I whispered, backing away very slowly. My hand slid into my pocket, ready to hit the emergency call button.

“Flynn.” Sebastián’s voice cut through my rising panic. Shifting the paper bag under his arm, he lifted both hands, palms out. “I know how this looks.”

“Like you’re about to murder me in an abandoned building?”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it last night. Or this morning. Or on our walk here.”

Fair point. But still. “That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Look. I run an organisation. From this hotel. We handle… unusual cases.”

“What doyou mean, unusual?”

“The cold sensation you keep experiencing? That’s not normal. And it’s not going away on its own.” His eyes bored into mine. “I can help you understand what’s happening.”

I glanced between him and the decrepit building. Everything screamed at me to run. But that cold feeling in my chest hadn’t completely faded since Damien touched me. The doctor had dismissed it. Even Emma thought I was being dramatic, I could tell.

But Sebastián knew about it, without me saying anything first.

“You promise I can leave whenever I want?”

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