A Trail of Blood and Smoke

3 - A Long Overdue Return Home

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C A L E B
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For the next few days, we prepare. And, despite my initial refusal, I find myself looking forward to returning home, to walking down those familiar streets without my family breathing down my neck. With every item we check off our to-do list — a crude thing entitled 'A Fool-proof Therapy Plan for Lonely Vamps' by a certain witch in my company — I feel the weight crushing my shoulders ease its bearing. Until finally, with preparations made and escape routes formulated, I can roll my shoulders and feel the relief of its absence.

I've carried this fear for so long, and all I need, it turns out, is a fiery witch to drag it away and introduce me to the possibility of moving on— not running away.

As usual, Adelyn is right. Whether this experience goes according to plan or not, I'm not so much dreading as anticipating the journey. The prospect of showing my close friend the place I grew up, the place I made countless memories (both good and... not so good), lifts my spirits immensely.

It'll be good to breathe that familiar air again, with the certainty that I won't have to face my family just yet. Not at all, with any luck. Fenbrooke, I can handle. It will be a while yet before I can consider making amends with anything — or anyone — else. Small steps.

Adelyn is happy enough with this idea. Really, I think she's just excited to travel. To get away from her coven for a while.

Possibly too excited, I amend, on the morning we're due to set off. It's hardly past seven in the morning, and I've just returned from a hunt (trying to replenish from my fight with the hunters). Already, Adelyn is packed and sat waiting for me in the living room, buzzing with excitement.

"Our flight isn't for another eight hours," I remind her, plucking the rucksack from the pile and rifling through it, checking everything. Passports, forged. Money, acquired from accounts I've spend decades building. Boarding passes and paperwork, legitimate. Mostly.

Having an in-built ability to get exactly what I ask for with — what Lyn often describes as — a bat of my lashes and hardly any effort does come in handy.

"The internet says we need to get there early," she says with a shrug, scrolling through her phone. "I feel sick."

"Eat something."

"I can't, I'm too nervous."

Whilst I'm facing a century of pent-up anxiety regarding my hometown, Adelyn is venturing out by herself— without her coven, their approval, or even their knowledge. I can't tell if it's the prospect of being in a plane for the first time or leaving her coven that has made her nervous.

I have tried to convince her, many times, to tell them she's leaving, but to no avail. I fear they'll think I've kidnapped her, given their already hostile opinion of my kind. She's promised to write a note, and I can see she's kept her word. It's set on the coffee table; a short and sweet farewell anchored by a candle.

Come to think of it, I'm not sure how sweet it is, and I vow not to read it.

"You do realise we've swapped places?" I ask, closing the bag and shouldering it. Adelyn won't want to hang around and, besides, I'm eager to get on the road before I can change my mind. "You're the one running, now."

"Touché. But we'll deal with my shit-show of a family once we've dealt with yours."

With that, we do one last check of Lyn's house. She's got everything she wants to bring with her, including a pile of books she apparently can't bear to leave behind. I've assured her we will buy what we need once we're there, but she claims those damn books are priceless.