City of Magic: The Complete Series by Helen Harper (book club recommendations TXT) 📕

I believed him. Monroe was too full of himself to be a liar; it wouldn’t suit his sense of pride to make things up. I was surprised, though. Maybe the werewolf was finally starting to see the light.

‘We’ll both go,’ I said firmly. ‘You can drive and I’ll navigate. That way there will be two of us if any more shit happens.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.’

‘This is my city,’ I said in return. I was calm; I was serene; I wasn’t tempted to slap him again. Honest. ‘You’re a stranger. I can direct you and there won’t be any chance that you’ll get lost.’

He stared at me as if I were mad. ‘I have excellent navigational skills. I’ve never been lost in my life.’

‘And I’ve lived here all of my adult life. Half of the streets are impassable. I’ll be able to find the fastest alternative routes. The last thing you need is to find yourself stuck down a street with no way out, not when the clock is ticking and a man’s life hangs in the balance.’

He stalked over to me, using his size to loom, as if that would keep me at home. Then his nostrils twitched.

‘Are you scenting me?’ I asked, annoyed.

To my surprise, Monroe’s cheeks turned slightly pink. ‘You smell like death.’

‘Well,’ I snapped, ‘I’m not dead yet, so don’t go getting any ideas.’

‘And sunshine,’ he muttered. ‘You still smell like sunshine.’

Cath’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. She leaned in and sniffed too. ‘I don’t get death or sunshine.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘Mould, maybe. With a hint of rotten eggs.’

Monroe shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Whatever. If we’re going to go, we should leave now. It’s already dark, as it is.’ He stomped off, single-handedly picking up the pilot on the makeshift stretcher we’d fashioned. I’d have said he was showing off, but there was a gentleness about his movements. Well, well, well. Wonders would never cease.

‘He likes you,’ Cath said. ‘I mean, really likes you. Lucky you. In terms of sex appeal, he’s the goat.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Monroe is snatched.’

She wasn’t even speaking English.

‘I mean,’ Cath continued, ‘those eyes. On fleek. V on Fleek.’

Kill me now.

She ran her tongue over her lips. ‘Given half a chance, I’d take him by the—’

I raised my hand in warning. ‘Don’t say it. I mean it. I don’t want to hear whatever it is you’re about to say. I might not understand it but I still don’t want to hear it. You’re a child.’

‘I’m seventeen,’ she retorted.

‘Exactly.’ I batted my eyelashes, the very picture of an innocent adult who hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, puffed a single cigarette, tried drugs or even thought about boys until I was at least twenty. Yeah, right. Then I gave her a quick grin and jogged after Monroe.

The Smart car was obviously out of the question; the pilot would never fit into it unless we were going to squish him into the foetal position and shove him in a footwell. Fortunately Lizzy, Jodie and Julie had snagged a postal van for their supply run. It was both nippy and roomy. Perfect.

Monroe laid the pilot down in the back. ‘You can drive if you want,’ he said gruffly, as if he were doing me a favour.

I shook my head. ‘Like I said, it’s better if I navigate.’

‘And I’m clearly the better driver anyway.’

It was like he had to have the last word. ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s an appropriate division of labour based on our current situation. I’ll drive on the way back.’

‘I can’t wait.’

‘You will.’ I smiled.

Monroe’s expression was studiously bland as he examined me. ‘You have to have the last word, don’t you?’

I gasped. ‘That’s you, not me!’

‘Hardly.’

‘It is. In fact…’

From the back, the pilot groaned. It didn’t sound good. I snapped my mouth closed. ‘Let’s go.’

I got into the passenger seat. Monroe walked round and slid inside the car too. His lips curved up into a tiny smile. ‘I win.’

I’d been expecting us to come across more monsters. It was dark now; surely that was when they would come out from their hiding places. I was ready for almost anything. I’d take down any number of slimy tentacles or gigantic, drooling jaws. Just watch me. Except nothing appeared. If it hadn’t been for the need to get the pilot some proper medical attention as quickly as possible, I’d have been disappointed.

We weren’t the only ones travelling out of the city. By the time we reached its outer limits, we were in a convoy of several vehicles, each one no doubt containing people who hadn’t been able to make up their minds whether to stay or to go. Either that or they’d been hanging on to the last minute in the vain hope that what happened to Manchester was nothing more than a terrible dream.

From the back seat of the car in front of us, the white faces of two children pressed up against the back window, watching us as we trundled forward at a snail’s pace. I wondered at parents who would allow their children to stay in such a precarious and vulnerable situation, but I knew better than to voice my thoughts to Monroe. He didn’t react to the children at all; even when the younger lad plucked up the courage to wave, all Monroe did was grunt quietly.

I was starting to think that we’d make it without a problem when the convoy stopped for no apparent reason. I stiffened. There wasn’t any screaming and I couldn’t see or hear any signs of anything untoward. It didn’t make sense why we weren’t moving.

Monroe drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel then, in a fit of sudden impatience, he unclipped his seatbelt and got out of the car. Of course I followed.

Others had left their vehicles. I saw several grim-faced people turn away. One