The lights reflected off the curved walls of Blackwall Tunnel, illuminating everything in stark amber and making me grip the edge of the passenger seat. Amber only reminded me of Brandon and I didn't want to think of him, because I knew he was out there somewhere, the great Vánagandr stalking the streets of North London, his venomous eyes forever searching the darkest of corners for any traces of vampire. For any trace of me and Lucius. I wondered how long it would take the Varúlfur to realise the vampires were on the move, migrating south of the river, desperately seeking refuge in Greenwich and beyond, anywhere as long as it was away from the slaughter that had plagued the north of the city. Would we ever be able to return to the dark, dismal backstreets of Whitechapel? I had felt a conn
