I decided that I would get to the end of the main street, check around the corner, then call it a loss. I could hardly spend the early hours of the morning running around an unfamiliar city on a bit of celebrity-spotting after all, guilt or not. But as I hurried closer to the end of the street, a loud commotion down a side street to my left brought me to a startled pause.

Instinctively, my fingers searched for my keys in my pocket in order to hold one between my knuckles, ready to defend myself. A silent habit. But of course, this wasn’t home, and my keys were neglected in my bag, unneeded for the duration of this trip.

I peered through the gloom, craning my neck around the wall of a building to check down the side street. Three men were gathered around something on the ground, striking out and occasionally barking in a drunken slur I could not hope to pick words from. One of them kept swiping down at whatever they were gathered round, grabbing or searching for something. It wasn’t until I risked a silent step forward that I realised—they were gathered around someone.

I almost shouted, the word catching in my throat. I fancied myself as a strong woman, capable of holding her own. Still, my belief in myself didn’t change three drunken men being three drunken men. The chances were I would be ignored…or worse, I would become the new target.

Swearing under my breath, I turned to the pub across the road. I waved my arms over my head at the patrons gathered outside.

“Hey! Help! Over here!” I yelled. A few guys took notice, cautious looks and furrowed brows cast in my direction. “Please, I need—”

It was then that I realised the shouts of the men behind me had stopped.

My arms dropped limply to my side. My fists clenched, arms tensing, ready to fight whoever might be skulking up on me.

I whirled around—and greeted no assailant.

Instead, I was horrified to discover two of the men now lying on the ground, groaning and trying to get to their feet, pawing at the floor in an effort to crawl away from a man standing over them. Said man was holding their third friend up by the throat, his legs flailing feebly beneath him.

“Oy!” A broad, rough voice shouted behind me from across the street, making both me and the person in the alleyway jump. “You alright, love?”

I could not look back at my would-be saviour. Instead, I remained transfixed on the scene before me.

The victim-turned-attacker lowered the whimpering man a little and looked over at me. Under the faint glow of light leaking from the street to the back lane, I could just make out chains and bracelets on his wrist, pale hair…

…and once-glacial eyes now smouldering a bright, luminescent orange.

Magnus.

“I-I’m…I’m good…” I bleated back over my shoulder to the friendly man across the road. I don’t know why I sent him away. Perhaps I was worried that whatever hell I’d just interrupted would burn him too if he came to my aid.

With Magnus otherwise distracted by my jaw-slackened appearance, the man he had hoisted up from the ground managed to seize the moment. He wriggled out of the singer’s grip, crashing to the ground in an inelegant tangle of limbs.

Magnus paid him no mind, transfixed as he was upon me. His previous-assailant lumbered to his feet, grabbing at his two friends and spurring them to run away. The three men didn’t pause to acknowledge me at all in their hurry to get away, shoulders bashing into mine and almost toppling me back into the street as they hurried from the narrow back lane and out into the dark morning.

Through the panic and chaos unfolding between us, Magnus and I remained locked in the world’s most uncomfortable staring contest.

I wanted to look away from those awful, fire opal eyes. I wanted to know what had caused such a change. I wanted to be yesterday’s Stella, ignorant of all this and simply excited for the next day’s show.

It seemed like a lifetime yawned between me and the peace of yesterday.

“You again?” Magnus said, though I had the unsettling sense that he wasn’t addressing me as much as he was speaking to himself. His head tilted down, and he muttered to no one: “I told you not to follow her.”

“Wh-what?” I managed to slur around my shock, watching as the burning cinders of his irises faded in the shadows of the side street, cooling to a pale blue hue once more. Whatever change had come over Magnus had disappeared, and along with it, his energy. He swayed on the spot, crumpling to one knee with a gasp, an arm wrapped around his torso.

I started forward, immediately regretting sending away the kind soul who had answered my cries for help. I knew before I landed in front of Mangus, knees grazing against the damp concrete, that he was hurt.

My hand ghosted over his, unable to bring myself to peel it away from his torso and examine the damage. Ridiculously, it felt too familiar and presumptuous a motion. But the sight of scarlet seeping out from between his fingers across his white shirt set my own blood on ice.

I scrambled for my phone, but Magnus’ other hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, stopping me. His palm was clammy and cold, and the shivers of his body travelled up his limb to mine.

“No ambulances,” he whispered hoarsely. “No hospitals.”

“You’re bleeding,” I pointed out, panic splitting my voice. “Jesus, what did they do to you?”

“Please.” Magnus ignored my question, his words becoming as laboured as his breath. “No hospitals…makes it worse…just…”

Whatever he was about to ask of me died on his lips. His eyes rolled back in his skull, and by the grace of my reflexes, his face didn’t hit the ground.

Cradling the unconscious man in my arms, I turned frantically left and right, trying to see if anyone had noticed, praying they had; praying they hadn’t.

“…Shit!” I bleated to myself, sitting in a perfect storm of dread caused by the fallen idol of a man in my arms. “Fuck, what do I—okay…oh my God, what am I doing?”

I continued to mutter in disbelief and panic to myself as I swung Magnus’ arm over my shoulder, hoisting the taller man up as best I could.

Where the blue bloody hell was I supposed to go? How far could I get, carrying a bleeding A-list celebrity over my shoulders?

This had certainly not been the ideal end to an otherwise enjoyable evening.