Rolling over, I got my legs under me, pushed up onto my feet. The gardens blurred as a moment of dizziness made me sway.

Fatboy was clutching himself, mouth gaping, tears streaming from his wide-open eyes.

I stepped towards him and kicked out, aiming at his temple. With a soft thud, he crumpled to the ground.

I turned back to Pizza Face. He was lying on his back, pink spittle foaming out of his mouth as he gasped for air. There was a dark, wet stain on his T-shirt where blood bubbled out around my shoe. It looked like I’d stomped on him— oh wait, I had!But had I hit his heart or just his lungs? As I watched him, Pizza Face frowned down at my shoe, then wrapped his fingers round it and pulled. It came out with a wet popping sound.

He gave another sniggering laugh and threw it at me.

I ducked, and it sailed over my head.

He sat up, grinning like a maniac and pulled up his T-shirt to show me his fast-healing wound.

I took half-a-dozen steps back. Another moment of vertigo made me stumble and agonising pain shot through my injured shoulder. The dizzy thing had to be blood loss, or concussion, or maybe even both. I swallowed, anxiety speeding my pulse. No way did I want to pass out, not while Pizza Face was still alive and kicking.

‘C’mon, faerie pussy pussy.’ Pizza Face staggered to his feet and grabbed his crotch. ‘It’s my turn to stick something in you.’

I kicked off my remaining shoe—it wasn’t going to help me now—and took another step back. My foot came down on something hard: Fatboy’s iron railing. I crouched and picked it up, wedging it between my waist and my good arm like a jousting lance and hoping like crazy I’d get a chance to use it before the spreading numbness from the iron made me drop the damn thing.

Pizza Face giggled as he lurched towards me.

I ran at him yelling at the top of my voice. Pizza Face lurched faster, gaining speed, and the pole dipped, starting to slip. My gut clenched with fear. Three feet, then two, then one, and I shoved the pole at him. The metal arrow-head glanced off his ribs and pierced his side, and I followed through with my good shoulder, knocking him down. The pole jammed into the dry earth, staking him to the ground.

‘Fuckin’ faerie bitch,’ he gasped, struggling to pull it out.

It wasn’t going to take him long to free himself. The garden blurred again, this time because of tears. Angry with myself, I swiped them away. Free.That’s it: I had to get free and get help. I had to crackthe spell on the railings. I started towards the gate and tripped over something. I looked down: the goblin’s bat. I shook my arm to relieve some of the numbness and snatched it up. Weapons were always handy things to have around.

A shuffling noise behind me raised the hairs on my body, and I swung round.

Ten feet away, Fatboy shambled over the grass, slack-faced, his glasses reflecting red. His mouth gaped open over his fangs. It was like a B-movie, the kind of horror flick where the monster just keeps getting right back up. Hysterical laughter threatened to choke my throat.

I tensed and, arm shaking, raised the bat.

Fatboy jerked to a stop. His head snapped to the side and a strange sucking noise, like a turkey leg being wrenched off, splintered the air. Fatboy’s body thudded to the ground.

Malik stood above him like some dark avenging angel, flames consuming his eyes. He held Fatboy’s dripping head between his hands. The round glasses dangled off one ear. The head’s eyes fluttered open, squinted at the ground.

I didn’t lower the bat.

‘Where is the other one?’ Malik’s voice sounded rusty, as though he hadn’t spoken for a long time.

I jerked my head behind me, then wished I hadn’t as the world went painfully out of focus.

‘Dead?’ he asked.

‘No.’ My own voice sounded just as rusty.

‘I will take care of it.’ He turned toward where I knew the river to be and threw Fatboy’s head up into the night sky. It flew high through the trees and over the road, disappearing into the darkness. For a second there was nothing, then, in the distance there was a faint splash as it hit the water.

I let the bat fall to the ground as exhaustion washed over me.

Malik took a step back, unsteady, and as the light caught his head, I saw why. Blood seeped down his neck in rivulets from a matted wound at the base of his scalp.

I blinked.

Something, or some one, had caved in most of his skull.

Another wave of dizziness washed over me and once again the night rolled away into darkness.

Somewhere it was raining. The drumming noise intruded on my sleep. I snuggled my cheek into the soft throw, the comforting scent of honeysuckle telling me I was home, and safe. Jabbing pain shot through my shoulder as I lifted my arm to pull the cover over my head, and I stifled a scream as the memories rushed back. I squinted through my lashes past the bronze and gold of my rug, searching for signs of Malik, but the room was empty. Slowly I moved, wincing as my shoulder complained again, and stared up at the vaulted ceiling lit by its waterfall pendant of amber and copper glass beads.

The rain cut out.

Carefully I sat up. Nausea roiled in my stomach and I rolled onto my knees, retching. Cool hands held my head and stroked the back of my neck and the pain dulled. I heaved again and tasted the sourness of bile as I took shallow breaths and willed myself not to add to the mess I’d made on my varnished floorboards. Shit. At least I’d managed to miss the rug—and Malik’s bare knees. The palm of his hand was like ice against my forehead. It reminded me of when he had held me frozen. My heart thudded faster and I shoved him away, ignoring the sharp agony in my shoulder at the movement.

‘Get the fuck off me,’ I croaked.

‘You are hurt, Genevieve.’ He bent over me, a coaxing tone in his voice. ‘I can help.’

‘No way. Keep your hands to yourself.’ I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, grabbed the throw and scooted backwards until I was sitting with my back to the wall. Damn, why had he brought me home?

‘As you wish.’ Malik sat back on his heels, neatly adjusted the towel that wrapped around his narrow hips. He studied me with a calm look on his face, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary for someone to vomit at his knees. Maybe it wasn’t. His black hair was wet, and I could smell the faint honeyed fragrance of my soap—he’d obviously used my shower—and his pale skin gleamed, his muscles lean and defined, his body even better than my errant mind had imagined. The silken triangle of dark hair on his chest narrowed down—

Annoyed at myself, I dragged my eyes up and glared at him. ‘How did you get in?’

‘Through the window in your bedroom.’ He shrugged, and a droplet of water rolled down over his collar-bone. ‘It was unlocked.’

‘I meant,’ I huffed, ‘how did you get in: I didn’t invite you over my threshold.’

‘Last night, outside Old Scotland Yard, you freely offered your blood to me.’ An odd sadness filled his black eyes. ‘I no longer need an invitation.’

Of course!I dropped my forehead to my knees, wondering how much more stupid I could get. Still, one bright point, if whoever wanted me dead did manage to succeed, offering open house to a vampire wasn’t going to matter much in the great scheme of things. And that brought the next question to mind. They’dhad their teeth in me. 3V might be the ultimate zapper for any human infection, but theyhadn’t been human, had they?

I lifted my head. ‘What were those things?’

‘Revenants.’

‘Explain revenants,’ I demanded.

He rose in one easy motion, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor as he walked the few steps towards the kitchen counter. ‘It is an ancient ritual, forbidden now.’ He stood at the sink, his back to me. ‘A human can be Gifted in a matter of minutes, without need of the cautious nurturing that we are used to indulging in.’