The next table along was a workbench of sorts. It was still the same cheap MDF as the rest of it, only this time covered in old tools and scraps of bent metal. The metal bits were all more or less in the same kind of format, a thick spine made of a shelf bracket or something similar to create an inverted L-shape with a thinner sheet welded to the corner of the L to create a kind of wonky axe and half a roll of electrical tape wrapped around the bottom of the spine to form a grip.

The theory was sound but it was obvious that Absher had no talent for metalwork. Add to that the fact that he was likely working with minimal tools and having to keep all of this secret while working out of a rented storage locker and you got this nasty-looking hunk of iron.

I carefully wrapped my fingers around the grip of the most complete axe, picking it up in the same way you would pick up a loaded gun. Something in the back of my mind told me the thing wasn't ready. Somehow I could see what this weapon wanted to be, something gold and gleaming, worthy to be held by kings. It didn't at all match with the mangled lump I was looking at now. Yet somehow the image was inseparable from the reality.

A finishing touch. That's what it needed. A little extra something to tip it over onto the other side.

The sounds of movement out in the hallway reminded me that I technically wasn't supposed to be here. I grabbed a yellowed bed sheet from one of the dusty boxes and wrapped up the axe. Not wanting to push my luck any harder than I had already, I set myself a three-minute time limit to check out the other stuff and get out of here. Unfortunately, most of it wasn't immediately relevant. At least not to me, anything that looked even halfway important was either too abstract or written in Latin, with a cypher, in god-awful chicken scratch calligraphy.

Clay would probably be foaming at the gills at some of this stuff but I was in need of immediate answers. Specifically where he was hiding, why he was hiding, and why he attacked me. Not exactly things Absher was likely to write down.

What did catch my attention, was a black faux-leather pouch. My dad had a similar one, he used it to store his passport and stuff like that whenever he needed to travel. It was heavy and thick, hastily overloaded. The thing almost burst open when I unzipped it. No passport or plane tickets, but there were fistfuls of cash. I was impressed and surprised, Absher had managed to stack up a cool two thousand pounds. No wonder he was so desperate to get in here when I caught him out. This was his emergency fund! I would definitely hold onto this, lacking two grand would be a real shot in the foot for Absher if he planned on skipping town.

More movement outside. I had a distinct feeling I was running out of time. I tucked the money pouch in with the axe and tucked it under my armpit. Now all I had to do was walk right back out like nothing was wrong. Easy.

The key trick to getting away with something is to act with total confidence. Don't hunch up your shoulders and glance from side to side. Just walk. Which is far easier said than done. Every aside glance feels like an accusation. I eventually resorted to just holding my breath and striding one foot in front of the other, ignoring everything that was between me and the door.

Of course, it didn't work. On my way out I made eye contact with one of the customers who was sitting around, pretending to be reading a newspaper. He was an almost comically tall man, standing a clear head-and-shoulders taller than me with what seemed like no meat on his bones whatsoever. He was an unhealthy pale with sunken, bloodshot eyes and a thin mouth. Mismatched with long, flame red hair kept with salon perfection.

It was plainly obvious he was a Vampire. The stench of blood was radiating off his every move. He didn't have the telltale coloured lapel that would have given away what House he was with, but the fact that he was wearing an almost identical outfit to the one the guards had worn on my last day with the Knights. Plain black wind-cheater jacket poorly concealing an armoured vest and heavy work trousers.

Something in his gaze made me stop, just standing in the middle of the lobby. My eyes fizzed in the same way your tongue does when you lick a battery and my whole body flinched when the trance broke. The smile he had been sporting smile faded into a childish look of offence when he realised that his little trick had failed. He looked more like I had said something rude rather than shaken off an attempt to brainwash me.

I gave him the best doom-glare I could muster on my way out, mentally telling him to keep his distance. Which he technically did. He followed me at about a hundred meters back, far enough that it wouldn't be obvious to the outside observer. But still plenty obvious to me.

The other Vampire was equally obvious, standing at a bus stop a few streets later with his arms folded and staring right at me. He had the same smell of blood about him and started visibly tensing up the closer I got.

I should have thought of that earlier, the street was utterly empty apart from the two Vampires, and I had something that belonged to them. It was an ambush. I couldn't just give up a haul like this, and running would likely just get the mortal authorities involved even more. No, I needed quick and decisive action. More specifically, I needed to make a point.

As soon as I came level with the second guy I punched him square in the base of the ribs. I felt something crack and the Vampire buckled in the middle, blurting out a non-word expletive. The footsteps behind me picked up the pace to join the fray. The Vampire recovered quickly, reeling back up and preparing to retaliate. But the footsteps behind me took priority. When I twisted to turn my attention to them, what I saw was worse than just one Vampire.

It was Sand. A face like thunder and baring down on me.

“There you are!” The tone of her voice didn't match her face. It was light, jovial and a little bit slurred. But there was no hint of alcohol in her eyes or movements. “Thought I lost you at the last pub.” She threw herself full-body between me and the Vampire.

“Oof~ Sorry about my friend here, he gets fight-y when he's drunk.” She smiled, loose and lopsided with eyes partially closed. She stuffed a £20 note at the guy and pat him on the shoulder. “Here's something for ya bus fare. And change for the trouble.” She finished with a very slow wink and then threw herself at me, lumping her arm around my shoulders and gripping my upper arm. Even through the plates, I could feel the anger in her iron grip.

The Vampire took the note with a growl, nursing his ruined ribs while I was carted off. I was legitimately surprised the guy didn't want to press charges. But I wasn't about to tell him that. I just let Sand lead the way.

“Give me one bloody good reason I shouldn't just shoot you.” Sand growled as soon as we were out of earshot, shoving herself off me and giving a blunt telekinetic shunt to seal the deal. The question was rhetorical, but I had an answer.

“I've got two-thousand and one reasons. Two grand in cash, and a sword.” That earned me a dirty look.

“I don't know what you think is going on here, but in our line of work when a wanted man just up and walks off on his own, nine times out of ten he ends up dead.” Sand stopped and loomed imposingly over me, hands at her sides and balled up into fists. “Gut-punching a Vampire isn't what I'd call keeping your head down.”

“What did you expect me to do? Just let them follow me back to the safe-house?”

Sand growled through her teeth. She was rapidly losing her temper.

“You know what I am to a Vampire? I'm meat. Plain and simple. So y'know what that makes you? You, with all your fancy plating? Tinned soup.” She turned and jabbed me in the shoulder with her finger, hard and quickly enough to upset my balance.

“Death to a Vampire isn't pretty. It's not two holes in the side of your neck and a clean, pale corpse. It's flesh stripped to the bone, it's three hours searching a house to find a dismembered head, it's six weeks checking in with hospitals so we can get dental records. So quit acting like you're invincible just because you tanked a gunshot. Bullets are the least of your problems now. Get in the car.”

During the rant, Flint had pulled up beside us in his car without me noticing, sitting in the driver's seat sporting an uncharacteristic glare. Not in the mood to get yelled at any further than I had to, I got in the back without another word.

The small bundle sat on my lap, now I was finally sitting still I could feel the incomplete power of the weapon inside it. It buzzed faintly, but still carried that idea of not being finished. The thrum of energy coughed every now and then, dipping like a phone signal in a tunnel. Again, all I could really say was that it was missing that final little touch-up to get it to where it needed to be.

Despite its flaws, the weapon was most definitely dangerous. It was a live weapon of war, all it needed was somebody to load it and put their finger on the trigger.

Throughout the drive back to the safe-house, nobody dared speak. All I got was the occasional prod from Sand's invisible hands. Checking me every time I moved like a paranoid man compulsively touching his back pocket to make sure his wallet was still there.

Copper was already at the top of the stairs as soon as we made it out of the car park. Arms folded across his chest and grimacing so hard I could hear his teeth grinding together.

“This had better be good.” Copper growled. I could see a bulging vein in his forehead.

I didn't try and say anything clever. I just unwrapped the bundle of fabric and stuffed my hand inside. I felt the smooth, greasy surface of the electrical tape hilt and let the fabric hit the floor, holding the blade up for all to see. With almost Hollywood-grade timing, Clay poked his head around the corner of the doorway leading to the main stairwell, wearing the face of somebody who was trying to trace the source of a strange smell. It made sense that he would be better at sensing the power that was radiating off this weapon in waves.

“What is that?”

“Something Absher put together. It's a weapon. I think.” I flipped the thing around in my hand to hand it off to Clay. He scrunched his face up and took it as daintily as is possible, leering at every detail on the thing. Copper waved him off and Clay vanished as quickly as he had appeared, shooting back up the stairs to vanish into his workshop for the weekend.

“So are you going to explain why you randomly assaulted a man in the street?” Copper acted like he didn't already know.

“They were following me.” I almost threw up my hands at the question. “I wasn't going to lead them back here.”

Copper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed angrily. “This place isn't a secret. We've been here for years.”

“Fine. Well, do you want the police knocking down your door when they find out that you're holding a wanted man?”

“We're a UN-backed task force!” Sand barked, having given up trying to hold down her temper. “We have agreements with the police!”

“Dismissed, Sand.” Copper sent her away, but she didn't leave until she had given me another death glare.

“So what now? Gonna lock me in the brig for another week?” It was high time I stopped getting dragged around by the collar and started standing up for myself.

Copper narrowed his eyes even harder at me than his usual squinting.

“While you were out I got a phone call. Our mole inside House Knight came back with something. She knows where Absher is. We're setting up to bring him in tomorrow.” Copper almost loomed over me with his armed folded. “I'm offering you the chance to redeem yourself. Help bring him in and I'll consider us square. Deal?”

How could say no to an offer like that? A chance to properly prove myself and solve a big problem at the same time?

“Deal.”