7
Kyle and I left High Street, hit the main B-road, and walked its length until we met the A41. From there, we headed east again, rounding back on ourselves until at the south entrance to Witchurch.
On our tour of the locality, the clouds dispersed for an hour, or two, remerging to conceal the blue of the sky. Small breaks allowed brief peeks of the warming rays, which only added more sweat to my unsavoury odour.
“You get any vibes off anybody today?” Kyle asked, as we ducked into the town.
I thought back, trying to recall all those I’d spoken to, or studied. “Nope.”
“I think we’re looking at the wrong time of day.”
I dug my hands into my pockets. “Meaning ...?”
“Jess thinks we should be looking at vampires.” Kyle mirrored my pocket-delving. “So, why the hell are we looking before d
