“Yeah, we have our own shit to deal with,” Axel said. “So it’s a hard pass.”
The cackle that erupted from the woman was wet, the black tar leaking down her lips to drip onto the roof. She took a step back, the crunch of bone on tile uncomfortable. “Then you have chosen your fate.”
Lifting her arms like wings she thrust herself back, and fell to the hard pavement five floors below.
Chapter7
Kyra
“Your locks still haven’t been changed,” Eva said, tapping her nail against the side of her steaming mug. “I know, because I checked if that little scratch was still there from when you were drunk.”
“I wasn’t drunk.” Kyra smiled, her friend not echoing the same reaction. It had been the first time she had ever indulged in alcohol. It wasn’t something she had any interest in repeating, not when she had spent the next day decorating her bathroom.
“You so were,” Eva sniffed, adjusting the straps of her apron. “You couldn’t get the key in the hole.”
“The key slipped,” Kyra continued, tugging her braid. “I’ve told Mr Meylor, but he still hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”
Eva’s gaze sharpened. “You know Mr Meylor takes three to five working days to reply to a bloody text. This is serious, Kyra. It’s been almost two days. Who knows whether the creep will come back or not?” She reached for her bag, pulling out her phone. “Look, I’ll sort it out right now for you.”
“Eva, it was a joke. Of course I’ve called a locksmith, they’re supposed to be here later today.”
Eva stared, her upper lip twitching. “Bitch, you’re going to give me a heart attack. Remember I can die from stress you know!”
“Witches can die from heart attacks too.”
“Yeah, but you can use your woo woo magic,” Eva said, wiggling her fingers with a giggle. “Remember you’re always welcome to stay with me.”
Kyra cradled her own mug close to her face, her smile disguised behind the hot mocha. “The locks will be changed by tonight, I promise.”
“I’m not even joking, If those locks haven’t changed by tomorrow I’m moving your stuff into mine whether you like it or not,” she warned.
Kyra reached across the table to squeeze Eva’s hand. She hated the fact she felt unsafe in the one place that was supposed to be hers. She had redone all the wards, and barricaded the front door the night before, and yet she hadn’t slept. Couldn’t without worry coursing through her thoughts.
In any other situation she would have taken Eva’s invite, but she could never risk her friend. It wasn’t just because of the threats, it was because if her secret was ever revealed to the wrong people, those closest to her would be in danger.
“Do you have time for another coffee before your job?” Eva asked.
Kyra checked the time, knowing she had over an hour before she was required at the cemetery. “Don’t you have to get back to work yourself?” Eva had taken her lunch break to sit with her, and Kyra was sure her time was almost up. She didn’t usually work during the day, but apparently she was training a new dancer.
“One more, and you also deserve some cake,” Eva said, winking as she made her way towards the barista at the bar.
Kyra finished her drink, savouring the last drops.
“She’s cute,” a male voice said from behind her shoulder. “A friend?”
Kyra dropped the mug, ignoring the crack it made against the wooden table while Bane took Eva’s seat, a leather bound diary held tight to his chest.
“I don’t have any friends,” Kyra replied, keeping her voice low. “What do you want?”
“Well, clearly you have friends,” he replied with a professional smile. “Otherwise why would she be spending time with you?”
“She’s nothing, just my…”
“Your neighbour,” he interrupted. “Eva Morgan, twenty-five from a small town in Kent. Both parents are deceased, a car crash when she was eighteen and she has no siblings. She’s a dancer over at The Dollhouse.” He turned towards the bar. “I wonder if she offers extras? I guess there is one way to find out.”
Kyra froze.
“Your landlord, Mr Gary Meylor is fifty-three…”
