It flickered, crackled and exploded. Along the street in both directions, the other lamps did the same, causing darkness to race outwards with him at its epicentre. He stared at the only light remaining in the street. The light in the white sash window above him. He growled and teleported inside the room. Nina gasped and whirled to face him, her hand coming up fast in a silver flash. A knife. She stared at him in silence, her shock echoing through him. She stood in the middle of a group of beige couches in the centre of a cream drawing room, her back to an open door that revealed a tiny kitchen. A flicker of curiosity bolted through him. Why did she have a knife when she was far from the kitchen? Did she feel she needed protection? That tempered his anger a little, making it fade a touch as a need to ensure she felt safe raced through him. Before that need could take hold, the darkness within him surged back to the fore, reminding him why he had come. He hadn’t come here to protect her.
