Summer was at its height. York hadn’t felt a breath of wind or a drop of rain in weeks. Even at night, the air was still and heavy, like it was choked by a storm waiting to break.

But the weather wasn’t the reason Tyler couldn’t sleep.

It had been the same every night for weeks. As soon as he switched the light off, he was back on Askham Moor. Hands stronger than iron crushed his body. Adrenaline coursed through his veins like venom. The smell of his own urine was sharp in his nostrils.

He could hear his own voice bleeding out of him, freezing and dying in the cold night air: “Let me fucking go,” he cried. “Let me go now, or I swear I’ll…”

The grip on him tightened. Fingernails sharp as glass shards pricked his flesh.

“Be still.” The voice was as smooth as an oil spill. It poured into his ear and down his nerves, stretching them to the point of snapping. The hot, fragrant breath against his skin made his traitorous body shake.

“This is assault. I’ll have you arrested, I swear.”

“This is what happens when weak men pretend they are strong.” The creature tightened his grip in Tyler’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. “Do you still think you are strong?”

Tyler fought air into his lungs, staring at the stars that had started to wheel overhead. “Who…who are you?”

“I am Lucien,” murmured the voice. “Whether you live another fifty seconds or another fifty years, you will never forget that name.”

Tyler threw his pillow across the room. It knocked a hi-fi speaker flying. It crashed to the floor with the sickening sound of splintering wood. He sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, breathing hard, until the red mist swirling before his eyes faded.

He checked his phone. Three-o-one a.m. He threw it at the wall, shoved back the sheets and paced the flat until, finally, the sun began to rise, and he dared open the curtains.

By the time he was nearing Fulford Road Police Station an hour later, he was finishing his fourth coffee, and his body felt like it was strung through with hot wire. There was a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. His heart skittered in his chest.

He swore and swerved to avoid an ambulance bombing the other way down the narrow street…then another. He pulled over and climbed out of the car, shaking as the sirens faded away. Silence descended. He took a steadying breath and made for the police station on foot.

It wasn’t yet six a.m., but when he arrived, the entrance was swarming with activity. Another ambulance was pulled up onto the curb. Paramedics were hoisting up a stretcher on which sprawled an unconscious form. There was blood everywhere—on the man’s face, clothes, matting his hair. The ambulance screamed off after the others.

Tyler stood staring for a moment before shaking himself and striding into the police station.

“DI Walker,” he barked at the harried-looking desk officer. She held up a finger and continued her conversation on the phone. “Oi, lady. I said I want to see Walker. Now.”

“One sec,” she said into the phone then gave Tyler a hard look. “Please, sir. Take a seat.”

“I won’t take a bloody seat. Get Walker out here. Now.”

The woman’s face tightened. “DI Walker is engaged. If you want to leave your number, I will be sure he contacts you. Yes, I’m still here,” she spoke again into the phone. “We need extra techs to go over the CCTV as soon as possible. Yes. Scene photographers, too—”

Tyler reached over and cut the woman’s call. “I said I want Walker…now.”

She held his glare without blinking. “And I said he’s busy, sir.”

“Mr. Lomax.” Tyler turned. A tall man stood in the doorway. His brown hair was disheveled, like he’d been running his hands through it, but the hard amber of his eyes was as unyielding as stone. “You’re up early.”

“Finally,” Tyler said, folding his arms. “I came for an update on my case.”

The detective studied him for a moment. “This way, Mr. Lomax,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door.

Tyler strode through, muttering under his breath. Walker took them to an interview room and shutting them in.

“You’re avoiding me,” Tyler said.

“Why would I avoid such pleasant company as yours?” Walker replied, standing with his hands in his pockets. There were shadows under his eyes and spots of blood on his collar.

“I’m serious,” Tyler said, lifting his gaze from the stain. “You don’t think I’m serious? Because I can show you just how serious I am, if that’s what you want.”

“Is that why you’re here so early? To threaten me?” Walker replied, pulling out one of the plastic chairs from around the small table and sitting. “Or have you finally come to confess to that assault outside the Golden Fleece?”

Tyler bridled. “I’m talking about my assault, arsehole. That psycho haemo that attacked me. You know, the one that no one’s trying to find?”

“What about the criminal damage to Baron Von Magnusson’s home, then?” Walker said coolly. “Perhaps you’d like to confess to that instead?”

“This is bullshit. That thing nearly killed me. Killed me.”

Walker surveyed him a moment longer then gestured to the other chair. “Have a seat, Tyler.”

“I won’t have a seat. I want to know what you’re doing about this.”

Walker’s only response was to push the chair out from the table with his foot.

Tyler swore and slumped into it, glaring at the detective.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re really here this early?”

Tyler’s skin rippled at the look in his eyes. “I told you. I wanted an update.”

“So you don’t know anything about the four men we found on the stairs this morning?”

Tyler blinked. “What?”

“Four unconscious men were dumped in our doorway at shift change, all severely injured. Know anything about that?”

“Why fucking would I?”

Walker interlaced his fingers on the table and leaned forward. “They are two members of a suspected pedophile ring, a violent drug dealer and an abusive husband. Still not ringing any bells?”

Tyler slammed his fist on the table. “I’m here about Lucien, Walker. You know, the murderer you’ve let get away?”

Walker leaned back in this chair again, watching Tyler closely. “Last year the Chief Inspector came for a visit and found a man chained to the railings in the car park. His name was Jason Parr. He was a suspect in a series of rapes. He had a hair band of one of the victims in his pocket. It led to his conviction.”

“I’m not here for a history lesson.”

“Parr said you put him there.”

Tyler clenched his fists under the table and was careful not to blink.

“He said you jumped him in a bar,” Walker continued, “and next thing he knew he was chained up in the rain with a hairband he claims never to have seen before.”

“I don’t know no Jason Parr. And that’s nothing to do with this.”

“So these degenerates left bleeding on our doorstep before dawn…” Walker narrowed his eyes. “Nothing to do with you?”

Tyler stood so suddenly that his chair crashed to the floor. “You better start taking this seriously, detective,” he said, stabbing the table with his finger. “Hear me? You don’t want a guy like me as your enemy.”

He made for the door.

“You want Lucien found, Tyler?” Tyler halted with his hand on the door handle but didn’t turn around. “You ask your sister what she knows about this mess,” Walker said smoothly. “Then you give me a call.”

Tyler glared over his shoulder. “What’s she got to do with it?”

“A well-connected woman, your sister,” Walker said, standing and straightening his tie. “What she doesn’t know isn’t worth knowing, right? See what she knows. Then we’ll talk.”

Tyler stormed out of the police station.

He searched his pockets for his phone, remembered he’d smashed it against his bedroom wall and swore. He got into his car and drove into town with his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He parked, made for the nearest phone shop and hovered outside the doors until it opened.

The assistant’s enthusiasm soon died when he realized that Tyler’s money might have no limits but his patience was quite the opposite. He left the store with a new phone and an even worse mood and dialed a number from memory.

Emerald didn’t answer.

Tyler fired off a series of furious messages and made for the Cafe Rouge on Low Petergate, somewhere that didn’t serve alcohol so somewhere he was unlikely to be spotted by anyone he knew. He ordered a black coffee and took a table in the corner, out of the way of the breakfast crowd.

He tried Emerald again with no luck and gulped the scalding coffee. He scrolled several news sites, searching for any mentions of haemophiles. The local papers were still full of articles about the Undying Baron winning the custody case for his adoptive daughter earlier in the year with the help of his human partner, Jesse Truelove. The kid was going to a local school, and Von Magnusson had just been elected to the school board. Reactions were…mixed.

Tyler shook his head, attempting to dispel the memories of standing outside Oswald House, his blood hot with anger, convinced a little girl was being abused behind the high walls.

Then Lucien had turned up.

He quickly switched to the national sites, trying to find anything about any more cases of haemo-on-human violence and what was being done about it. All he found were posts about the haemophile’s parliamentary representative Ivor Novák’s latest campaign to allow haemophiles to legally marry. Tyler’s stomach clenched. He hurriedly scrolled away.

The next thing he found was a video of a press conference around the de-registration of haemophile communes by one Magister Dragomir Soroka. The very sight of the white-faced, white-haired haemophile made Tyler’s blood run cold. The eyes, black and empty, reminded him of a shark’s.

Why should our names and addresses be listed for anyone with ill intent to find? Why should we suffer perpetual scrutiny when all we want is a chance to live our lives in peace?

Tyler put the new phone screen-side down on the table. He finished the coffee. If anything, the caffeine increased his tension, but he ordered a second cup.

By the time he was done with his second drink and Emerald still hadn’t returned his call, his patience was frayed to the breaking point. He left the cafe without leaving a tip.

Nasir, Emerald’s secretary, started when Tyler strode past his desk.

“Uh, Ty,” he said, scurrying after him. “This really isn’t a good time.”

“Go swivel, Naz,” Tyler said and shoved open his sister’s office door. He shut it in Nasir’s face but not before registering his ex’s pained frown.

Emerald was on the phone. Her scarlet suit was as sharp as her gaze, which locked on Tyler and stayed there, even though she didn’t miss a beat in her conversation.

“Well, that’s exactly what I said. I agree. We just have to get ahead of it. Yes. Exactly. Look…” She tilted her head. “Can I call you back? Ten minutes? Thanks.”

She replaced the receiver with a deliberate click. “Tyler. What a nice surprise.”

“Leave it out, sis,” he said, dropping into one of the armchairs that faced her oversized desk. “If you picked up your bloody phone, I wouldn’t have to barge in like this, would I?”

“In case you didn’t notice,” she said with an icy smile, “the appointment of the lord mayoralty is due. Getting appointed two years running would make history—and I intend to make history. So I have rather a lot on my plate, to say the least.”

“I ain’t leaving until you talk to me.”

Emerald sat motionless with her fingers twined together for such a long time that Tyler knew a sneak of apprehension up his spine. Then she stood, straightened her jacket and went to the door.

Tyler braced himself to be hustled out by security, but instead she just leaned out and said, “Naz?”

“Yes, Lord Mayor?” Nasir scrambled to his feet, tidying papers.

“Take an early lunch. There’s a good chap.”

Nasir’s eyes flicked to Tyler then back. “Yes, Lord Mayor,” he said and left.

Emerald waited until the lift doors had pinged shut before closing the door again. She resumed her seat without meeting Tyler’s eyes.

“Okay, little brother,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “You have four minutes. What do you want?”

“I saw Walker this morning.”

She lifted a sculpted eyebrow. “He hasn’t taken out a restraining order yet, then.” Tyler glowered. “And did the Detective Inspector have any news?”

“You know he didn’t. You’d’ve known before me.”

“What’s your point Tyler?” she said in a bored tone, doodling on her notepad.

Tyler watched her closely. “Someone dumped four bodies on the steps of the police station overnight.”

Emerald stopped doodling. “Excuse me?”

Tyler shook his head. “Not dead. Beat up…bad. There was a lot of fucking blood…”

The sharp lines of her face tightened. “You were there?”

“No,” Tyler said hurriedly. “Like I said, I went this morning. They were just clearing up.”

“I see.” Her expression was watchful.

“Walker asked me if I did it. When I put him straight, he asked me to ask you.”

Emerald had gone very still. “Me?”

Tyler nodded. “Have you heard anything?” Emerald looked at the wall. Tyler dragged his chair closer and lowered his voice. “Please, Emmy. I gotta find that guy. I can’t sleep knowing he’s out there…”

“And what’s your Lucien thing got to do with four scumbags being dumped at Fulford Road?”

Tyler paused. “Who said they were scumbags?” Emerald’s red lips twitched. “You know something, Emmy. What is it?”

“Why do you care?”

He swallowed. “Was it Lucien? Did he do this?”

Emerald sighed and leaned on her desk. “This didn’t come from me. Got it?” Tyler nodded. “I mean it Ty,” she said, her voice deadly serious. “If even a whisper of this comes back to me, you can forget about my intervention the next time you get yourself arrested or worse.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler said, “I get it. I’ll take it to the grave. Come on. What’s going on, huh?”

Emerald examined her blood-red manicure for a long, tense silence. “Recently people have been…vanishing. Taken out of their homes at night. No signs of a struggle, nothing. They were just…gone. But I got a call this morning. Sounds like they all turned up at the police station—what was left of them, anyway. I wasn’t sure I believed it, but you said you saw it?”

“How many went missing?”

“Four, that I’ve heard of. But it’s only become weird because of this last guy…Terry Fleetwood.”

“What’s so special about him?”

“The other three were under investigation—two for kiddy pictures, another for drugs. Police hadn’t been able to get anything solid, probably never would. When they went missing, suspicion was some cop had gone rogue…until Fleetwood vanished.”

“Fleetwood was the wife beater?”

“So Walker figured it out, did he?”

“What’s the deal with Fleetwood?”

“He wasn’t under investigation,” she said. “Not even suspected. The wife never reported him.”

“But you knew?”

“I know people who knew,” she hedged. “Guy liked to piss away his money in a few of my places, drink and run his mouth, so word got about. But the police were never involved. That means it can’t have been a copper that did this.”

“So…” He swallowed, his blood running cold. “Lucien?”

She spread her hands. “No one knows. A pro, that was the guess. No struggle, no mess—at least, no mess at the scene of the abductions. No one left behind to care. Though why a pro was targeting these charmers was anyone’s guess. But this morning…” Emerald picked up her phone, tapped at the screen and passed it over.

“What’s this?” Tyler said, scrolling through some text full of medical terms.

“The medical reports on your gents from this morning.”

Tyler scowled. “I don’t know what I’m reading here, sis. I failed biology, remember?”

Emerald sighed and took the phone back. “Blood loss, Tyler. They were all suffering from massive blood loss.”

Tyler went very still. “Any of them talking?”

“If they are, my source wasn’t able to find out.”

“So this was him…” Tyler’s blood ran cold. “He’s still here…in York. Biting people. And that moron Walker’s doing nothing—”

“It’s a haemo attack, sure,” Emerald said. “Whether it’s this Lucien of yours—”

“He’s not mine,” Tyler’s face flushed with heat. “He’s a fucking maniac. And he’s loose in my town, and no one is taking it seriously.”

“The city’s packed with haemophiles at the moment, Ty,” she said, her voice level and infuriatingly calm. “There’s a whole contingent of them at Oswald House right now. Blew into town over a month ago. Something to do with this marriage bill Novák is trying to push through with help from that haemo lawyer of the Baron’s. Why do you think I’m run off my feet trying to play interference?”

“Lucien attacked these men,” Tyler said, stabbing his finger on the desk. “I know it.”

“Even if he did, who cares?” she said with a wave of her hand. “Let him clear the scumbags out of the city. Saves me a job.”

“You won’t be saying that when he starts coming after the scumbags who work for you.”

Emerald narrowed her eyes. “Careful.”

“Why aren’t you up in arms, huh?” he snapped. “Why aren’t we all out trying to get this lunatic?”

“Leave it to Walker.”

“He’s doing fuck-all. Even when he knows all this, I bet—”

“This can’t go to the police, Tyler.”

Tyler chewed his cheek. “He told me—”

“I have to protect my sources,” she said firmly. “We had an agreement.”

Tyler made a frustrated noise. “So what am I supposed to do? Nothing?”

“Tyler.” Emerald used the voice that always reminded Tyler of their father. “You really have to let this Lucien thing go.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t hurt him, but he could hurt you…really hurt you.”

Tyler again felt the hot breath on his neck, the hands crushing his body. He heard the voice like liquid mercury flowing through him, lighting fires as it went.

“If no one else will stop this guy,” he said, his voice hoarse, “then I’ll bloody have to do it myself.”

“Tyler,” Emerald said, glancing at her phone as it started ringing, “do as I say. Let it go. Take a holiday or something.”

“A holiday?”

“Get out of town for a while. When was the last time you went anywhere, huh?” She reached for the phone.

Tyler grabbed the phone before she could answer it, lifted the receiver and slammed it back down. Emerald’s eyes glinted with dark fire.

“What else do you have?” he said. “Anything you’ve heard—rumors, anything.”

She was silent for a moment then tilted her head. “What about Naz, huh?” she asked, frowning. “What went wrong there?”

“Emerald—”

“You need something, Ty,” she went on. “If it’s not headspace, then it’s to get laid.”

“Tell me what you know about Lucien.”

Emerald sighed loudly. “This isn’t like knocking some creep’s head on the bar and tying him to a railing, little brother. Haemophiles are dangerous. You’re lucky to be alive as it is.”

Tyler ground his teeth. “Well, I guess I’ll have to fight fire with fire.”

“What?”

“I need one of them. A haemo.”

“Ty, no—”

“If you won’t help me, I’ll bloody well help myself,” he said and stormed out, just as her phone started ringing again. He passed Nasir on the bridge outside the office. He was carrying a takeaway coffee and a paper bag that smelled of pastry. His face transformed as he saw Tyler approach, but Tyler brushed past him without meeting his eyes.