Eight
“West End Street,” I muttered to myself, peering at the street names and trying to navigate through the maze of the city. “Pfff…”
This was not my idea of a fun day out. The entire town was swarming with humans, all excited about shoes or bags. The sun was out, leaving me half-blinded and wishing I could crawl in a coffin. Unfortunately for me, I had to go to a wedding shop and pretend I was there to try on dresses. But if one of them actually tried to put one of their white trashbags on me, I’d be having an early dinner straight from the neck, messy or not.
“Lucy? Fancy meeting you here!” someone trumpeted.
I put my head down, hoping they weren’t talking to me.
“Lucy?”
Nope. Wasn’t me. Had to be someone else called Lucy.
“Lucy! Hey!”
A hand grabbed my arm and I had no choice
