Page 16 of The Gloaming

I had to agree with him. “I think there’s a wall nearby where the fence is lower. I might be able to make it there,” I suggested.

“A true midnight wanderer,” he replied, tightening his grip on my arm. “You must spend a lot of time here.”

I didn’t answer. It was safer not to.

We soon found the right place, where the railings had been cut down and their metal taken for munitions during the Second World War. The stumps left in the stone were rusted over, but Cole helped to hoist me onto the top without difficulty. His hold never faltered as I clambered one leg at a time through the narrow gap. His hands were steady at my waist, andI tried not to focus on how easily he lifted me, or how my skin tingled where we touched.

“Not exactly my most graceful display,” I commented.

Amusement played around his lips in a crooked smile as he climbed after me, but the look in his eyes said something else entirely. “Words couldnae describe it.”

As we walked along the empty streets, the wind began to pick up, whipping my hair around my face. I tried to place the odd expression I’d seen, but the pain in my elbow and ankle was growing distracting, and I struggled to think straight.

“This is me,” I said as we reached the steps leading up to my front door. I pulled away from the comfort and support of his arm to rest on the wall.

Cole looked up at the house. The lamp I’d left on in the living room window cast a warm glow into the dark street, highlighting those remarkable cheekbones and the way his too-long hair fell across his forehead.

“How’s your head, now?” he asked, his voice somewhere between concern and amusement. “You mightn’t want to fall asleep yet, in case of concussion and such.”

I bit back a laugh – he seemed genuinely worried. And of course, he was right.

“Honestly, I’ve had worse,” I said, hauling myself up the three steps to the door. I fumbled through my keys at the top, my fingers numb with cold.

“Worse falls or worse head injuries?” He raised an eyebrow, a challenge dancing in his eyes. Before I could protest, he’d swiftly taken my keys and straightened them out with the samecalm efficiency he’d shown while examining my back. I gaped at him, and the already familiar expression returned, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. Remembering his coat, I shrugged it off and handed it over. He took it with a nod, and in a slow deliberate gesture, reached for the uninjured side of my face, drawing his hand down my cheekbone with an impossible gentleness that made me shiver. I closed my eyes for a second, wondering, and when I opened them, he was at the bottom of the steps.

“I’d usually prefer dinner and dancing to moonlit adventures in ruins. But I have to admit, this has been far more… memorable,” he pushed his hands deeply into his pockets as he spoke. “Still, if ye’d promise not to go exploring another derelict building any time soon, I’d sleep easier, lass. For my peace of mind, eh?” He dipped his head, reminding me of an actor from an old black-and-white film. And without waiting for an answer, walked away.

I admired his retreating silhouette for a few seconds, marvelling at the strangeness of a stranger and already missing his presence – but it was too cold to dawdle, and I hurried into the warmth of the house. Resting on the table in the hallway, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, dropping into a quick, semi-meditative state to assess the damage. The pain of every injury seemed poignant and sharp, but I had to take stock of how bad it was.

The brunt of the fall had messed up most of my left side, and besides my sprained ankle, my elbow had begun to swell.Fan-fucking-tastic. It didn’t feel like a proper break, but it was probably fractured. My ribs were sore, too, and I reckoned a couple were cracked, but that was par for the course. I’d heal in a week or so.

I looked blankly at the dark hallway and considered a hot bath before bed. A glance at my phone – mercifully undamaged – told me it was later than I’d planned to be home, but a long soak seemed like a good idea. Cole had been right about staying awake.

The trip upstairs was a Herculean task, and some idle part of my brain contemplated what might have happened if I’d invited Cole in to help a little longer. Still, I couldn’t get around the weird expression I’d seen on his face before, when I’d climbed the fence. It was familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.

As the bath ran, I rummaged around in the cabinet under the sink for the strongest painkillers I had, mulling it over. It wasn’t until I sank into the hot water and the scent of spearmint cleared my mind that I worked it out. But it made no sense.

Disbelief, I thought.Utter disbelief.

5: The Dead We Cannot Save

No matter the day of the week, I never found enough time for sleep. It felt like minutes had passed since I’d closed my eyes when a pounding on the bedroom door brought me back to consciousness. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the duvet up to muffle the sound.

The banging stopped for a moment, before resuming twice as loud.

“Unless the house is on fire or you’ve discovered time travel, this better be bloody good,” I called, dragging myself upright. Pain shot through my elbow as I put weight on it, and I swore loudly.

“Are you decent?” Tom stuck his head around the door. “Shit, Erin. What happened?” As was his custom, he immediately spotted the now livid bruising along my left arm. I flexed it experimentally. It probably looked worse than it was.

“I fell,” I answered, swinging my legs out of bed and wincing as I stumbled.

He hurried across the room and pulled my uninjured arm around his shoulder. “I’ll help you downstairs, and you can tellme over breakfast.”

“Thanks,” I grinned. “Does that mean you’re cooking?”

He ignored me.

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