Grey and Cal had travelled in silence in the back of the cab from Evelyn's, holding each other's hands but not saying a word because they both knew anything they had to say would only start another argument. She hated this, but there was no other way and if he honestly thought she was going to be okay with him being the one doing all the fighting he was sadly mistaken and clearly didn't a clue who she was. The car had pulled up a few streets from their flat, because they both knew better than to let anyone involved in this whole thing know where they actually lived.
He'd let go of her hand, or she'd let go of his. That had been their mistake, probably, possibly. Because suddenly Grey wasn't walking on paving stones anymore, and Cal wasn't beside her. It was raining, but then that wasn't particularly odd given they were in Manchester. Or had been. Grey was used to weird. She loved with a werewolf and hung out with a vampire, weird was nothing, just another thing to accept but this, this went beyond that. She reeled round looking for her other half (another term that didn't really work for them, but then none of them did), just as she always did when things started going wrong, just needed to be able to see him and then she knew things would be okay. Only he wasn't there, there was no sign of him. "Cal!" she shouted. "Cal!" Where the fuck was he? Where the fuck was she. "This isn't fucking happening," she muttered to herself as she started walking in the direction of the trailers a little way off, trying to work out what could have possibly happened. Had Evelyn drugged her? Had it all be an act? Had she seen them as the threat they were? Made friends to take them down? She swallowed the rising bile in her throat, blinked back tears. She didn't cry in public, she had rules against that kind of thing.
And then there was that man, and that question. Just turned up, I take it? Like this was normal? They were in the middle of nowhere. This was not Manchester and while she a big believer that people could wear what the hell they wanted his clothes looked distinctly old fashioned, and not in a hipster way. "Where the hell am I?" she asked, looking around. This wasn't happening. This was a bad trip or something. She was really back in Manchester, fast asleep and this was just another anxiety dream. It had to be.