Page 62 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

I almost told him that as bizarre as they all were, Killigrew Street was an upgrade in the housemate department.

At the door, I paused, glancing back. Seb had already reopened his laptop, probably ready to unpause Buffy. The image of him sitting alone in his office all evening made my heart physically hurt.

I pulled the door shut behind me and headed down the corridor, trying not to think about how much I’d rather stay with him.

I shuffled down the dimly lit corridor of the hotel’s third floor, munching on crackers I’d nicked from the kitchen.

The last few days had been odd. Since our chat in Seb’s office, I’d secretly hoped to spend more time with him.

And I had been—sort of.

Sometimes he’d materialise at my side while I loaded the ancient dishwasher, asking about my sister Katie or what the sea looked like during winter storms in Braymore. If I liked tea more than coffee, if Rising Dough had sold out of bread that day. His questions were precise, calculated, almost like they’d been prepared. He’d smile at my responses—proper smiles that reached his eyes—and stretch past me to grab a tea towel, his sleeve brushing my arm.

But then he’d vanish again. I’d catch glimpses of him striding through the hotel, phone pressed to his ear, that black coat swirling behind him like a shadow. If our paths crossed, he’d give me this tight, strained look before hurrying off to whatever crisis needed his attention.

I knew he was busy—trying to track down Damien, to save my life, or whatever.

But still. The hotel felt colder somehow, when he kept his distance.

I shoved another cracker into my mouth. It was ridiculous to miss someone who was literally in the same building. Especially someone who’d made it very clear that getting attached was a bad idea.

The ice attack on the way home from work earlier probably wasn’t helping today’s mood. Rory had guided me through it, nattering about his latest dating disasters until my fingers thawed and my breath returned to normal.

I’d put on a brave face, pretending I was peachy fine, but in truth, it had spooked me—it had been the longest lasting and furthest reaching so far, the coldness spreading all the way to my fingertips. It was easier to focus on Rory’s chattering than to contemplate how many heartbeats I might have left. Spoiler alert: not as many as I’d like, apparently. I’d received very few updates on my case in recent days, which was not particularly reassuring.

Hours after Rory dropped me back at Killigrew Street, restlessness drove me to explore the hotel’s endless maze of corridors.

The hotel’s third floor felt like delving into a shipwreck—each empty room a cabin frozen in time, dust motes dancing in shafts of light like underwater debris. Most of the floor remained locked, a layer of dustcoating the brass door numbers. My footsteps echoed softly against the worn carpet runner that I was liberally dropping cracker crumbs onto.

A scratching sound caught my attention.

I paused mid-bite, holding my breath. The noise came again—a sort of scrabbling, like claws on wood.

“Hello?” My voice bounced off the walls.

Something small and grey darted out from behind a dead potted plant. Before I could process what I was seeing, the creature leapt straight up—impossibly high—and snatched the half-eaten cracker from my hand.

I stumbled backwards. The thing landed with unnatural grace, its matted fur an odd greenish grey. Its eyes glowed with an eerie yellow light, and patches of… was that bone showing through its skin?

The creature tilted its head, regarding me with those luminous eyes while chomping down on my cracker with sharp, yellowed teeth.

“Bloody hell—”

It shot off around the corner, taking the rest of my snack with it. The patter of its feet faded into silence.

I stood frozen, my hand still raised where the cracker had been.

“What are you doing up here?”

I spun around to find Priya at the end of the corridor, her eyes darting between me and room 303, lips pressed together.

“Just exploring. I got bored.” I brushed crumbs off my jumper. “I’ll come back down—”

A deep, guttural sound erupted from behind room 303’s wooden door. Like the cry of a whale mixed with nails on a chalkboard, it raised every hair on my body.

I stared at the closed door.

“What the fuck is in there?”

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