When I came to the next time, the bright morning sunshine had been replaced by milky moonlight. Though I still struggled to sit up, my arms felt much more capable than before. I considered giving myself another day to rest up but traveling through the night would give me a much-needed head start. Gavin's words echoed in my mind, you don't even know what she is do you? They claimed to be working against Gavin, but that didn't mean that they were safer.

I peered around the room and sighed to find it empty. I'd half expected to still be guarded by the girl with pink hair. I slipped off the bed, my legs trembling. I was clothed in a thin nightgown, much better than the standard hospital fare, but still not practical for escaping into the frigid night. I wouldn't find anything in here— the room was void of anything other than the bed and armchair. Spying a door that led to what I hoped was the bathroom, I shuffled across the cold hardwood floors.

Flipping the light on, I took care of my more urgent needs before I continued exploring. Another door caught my attention and I wondered if it opened into a closet or connected to a bedroom. My hand rested on the cool knob as I debated the wisdom of opening it. You've got to get out of here.

The door swung open revealing a large closet, and I sighed in relief. The clothes hanging from the racks were nearly all black, and while I preferred pops of color myself, tonight this was exactly what I needed. Not only would it help me fade into the night as I snuck away, but I would look like everyone else in this house. I shimmied into a pair of pants that were a little snug through the thigh and backside and gaped at the waist. Stick figure I was not, but at least the pants were made for women. If I'd tried to wear a pair of men's pants, I'd never get them over my hips. Of course, there was always the option of adjusting, but I didn't want to draw notice. Holding my features was easy enough but making an actual shift might leave me too weak to escape.

The long-sleeved shirt I slipped on felt like the type of athletic wear that dried quickly. The combat boots that followed fit as though they were made for me, and I sent up a prayer for small blessings.

Resisting the urge to lean against the wall and catch my breath, I dug through the closet for anything else that might be useful. A hat to cover my platinum blonde hair would be nice. Again, something could be done about the hair, but if I was caught, I didn't want to try and explain that one. I gave the room one last glance before stepping out and shutting the door. Unfortunately, whoever used this room was either a neat freak or just kept a few items here for when she was passing through.

The window seemed like the obvious choice for an escape, even more so after peeking outside. The moon was full and bright enough to light my way, and the glittering white snow was a beacon of freedom. Narrowing my eyes, I backed away from the enchanting sight. Perhaps the beacon was shining too brightly, like a bug lamp set to stun. Of course, that left escaping through the front door, and I didn't have the guts for that.

The drop from the window was short, indicating the house was a split level. The distance wasn't high enough to be a traditional two-story house. "Damn it," I grumbled, popping the screen out of the window. The screen went onto the bed before I straddled the windowsill. From here it would be a straight drop down, but if I hugged the edge of the window, I might be able to grasp the ledge of the window and hang. The snow should soften the landing.

"Here goes nothing," I whispered, releasing my hold on the window and falling into the darkness.

The pain shot through my knees up to my head, leaving me feeling like a rung bell tower at the fair. Icy grit filled my mouth as I face planted, and I realized the only reason I'd not broken anything was because of the snow drifts around the house. In that moment, nothing sounded better than lying there until someone found me.

Anton's sinister threats echoed through my mind. His angelic face twisted in a sneer as he shouted after me. The memory dredged up the vestige of strength that remained, and I clambered to my feet. Blending into the black of the night, I set out towards the street while looking for familiar landmarks. According to Fleur, I'd been unconscious for three days. I could be in a different state, but as my feet ate up the asphalt, the area became familiar.

The crew holding me captive must have rented a house, so they could spy on Gavin with ease. Calum had been in Avalon for at least three weeks, the others most likely just as long. Deep in thought, I chewed on my lip and a memory of shrewd green eyes surfaced. She'd been at the bar that night, but I hadn't seen her in the house. That meant there were at least five people to avoid. Gavin's deranged laughter echoed in my ears. Six. Six people to avoid.

I was strutting down main street before I realized that my cheeks were covered in a crust of frozen tears. The evidence they'd presented had been far from damning. Nothing more than a he said, she said, but I didn't believe in coincidences. Viewing Gavin through the lenses of hero worship, I'd excused his flaws. The temper. The manipulative way he talked to people. He was kind to me, but looking back, I don't remember him being the type to go out of his way for people if he didn't get something in return. I hadn't been joking when I told Calum that Gavin wouldn't let his own mother drink for free.

What were the chances that Gavin's tiny heart had grown three sizes upon discovering a waif hiding behind his bar? And that he just happened to work for the company owned by the man who'd done his best to destroy my soul? Kicking a rock, I concluded that the chances were small indeed. And I couldn't allow myself to feel guilty or hurt. If anything, I should be angry with myself. I knew better than to blindly trust people.

When my building came into view, I quickened my pace. The apartment keys would've been lost in the fire, but the building had a keypad. Within minutes, I was standing in front of my happy holiday wreath, fumbling for the hide a key.

The inside of my apartment was nearly as frigid as the outside air, but I wouldn't be staying longer than it took to pack. I took two steps and stopped. Someone was in the room.

The tips of my fingers prickled, and a strange heat suffused them. Glancing down a soft purple glow illuminated my skin. So much for hoping Gavin had been responsible for the purple powers. Uncertain of what I was capable of with this new power, I moved my hands behind my back.

"I know someone is in here," I announced, slipping towards the window to use the soft light to my advantage.

"What trouble have you found now?"

"K-Katerina?"

The bombshell barista stepped out of the shadows. Not more than a shadow herself, her face was pale and covered in half healed scars. The gash across her forehead was angry and puckered. Emerald eyes watched me with sadness and determination. "I really hate that you've put me in this situation."

"What situation is that exactly?"

Katerina took a moment to answer. She stared at something in her hands. And sighed. "The one where I have to shoot you because you know too much."

The first bullet took out my favorite lamp. The second shattered one of the window panes. Katerina was either a bad shot, or her guilt was holding her back. At this point, I didn't give a shit. Scrambling behind my sofa as she destroyed the room, I prayed she would need to reload soon.

"Come on Cami, please don't make this harder than it has to be," she begged, the hitch in her words giving me the answer to my question.

"Why don't you just go back and say you took care of things," I insisted from where I sat trembling.

"You don't know what kind of people I'm dealing with," she cried. "They'll find out, and then they'll take it out on my family."

"How did you even get involved with them?"

"My father worked for them. They said our family was special, and that they would restore us to our former glory, whatever that meant. I didn't put a whole lot of stock in it until my little sister got sick. They cured her. She's... different now, but she's still here. I owe them."

"Please Kat. Just tell them I don't know anything." To some extent this was true. I certainly didn't understand anything. "I want to get far away from anything to do with any of you."

The click of her heels was muffled against the thick carpet covering my floors, and I knew she was beyond reason. Fear was a terrible master, one I was all too familiar with, and I wondered if I would do the same in her place. Survival had become my number one motivation; could I hate her for being the same?

Recognizing that later would be a more appropriate time to dig into my subconscious, I lunged towards the hallway. There was a fire escape outside of my bedroom window, and it was a better option than waiting for her to run out of bullets.

The gun went off again, searing pain shooting through my arm as the bullet struck me. The fear driving me on fled and anger took its place. Guided by instinct, I flung my good hand out in front of me and turned to face my former friend. I pushed out, fingers splayed. A bar of neon purple light shot forward and struck her in the chest. Cracks filled with the same glow spread across her skin. Her green eyes flared amethyst as her mouth opened in a mute scream. And then she was gone.

I dropped to my knees, blood seeping between the fingers clutching my arm. "Katerina," I whispered. "Katerina!"

No body. No ashes. Even the gun was gone. Nothing was left of a woman who'd worked by my side for countless hours. A woman who'd slept in my home after nights of too much wine and gossip. Had she known then who I was? What I was?

Somehow, I managed to stand, pausing to place a bloody palm against the wall as dizziness threatened to pull me back down. Each step down the short corridor was demanding. The bedroom door was open, but the room was bathed in black. Turning on the light was a herculean effort, my wet fingers slipping across the plastic until I found the switch, which felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

An old t-shirt became an impromptu bandage. The wound in my arm had a clean entrance and exit wound, but the blood loss was taking its toll. Convinced I'd done the best job I could at the moment, I wiped as much blood off of my hands as possible before throwing anything of importance into a large backpack. A first aid kit intended for the bathroom was lying on the bottom of my closet. Adding that to the bag, I pulled the edges together with one hand and zipped it shut.

New jeans, snow boots, and my heaviest sweater replaced the uniform I'd stolen from the house of strangers. For one moment I considered leaving the stained clothes in a pile on the floor, but a much better idea struck me. Snatching the backpack and clothes, I hurried to the living room where I started a fire and tossed in the garments.

The smoke and smell were suffocating, and I didn't remain behind to watch the clothes burn. My hope was that anyone who came looking would assume that the opposing side reached me first. I would've set the building ablaze, but the blood smeared about the apartment was more convincing, and I couldn't condemn my neighbors to such a fate.

With one hand on the door, I paused. Pale hair and skin reflected to me from the mirror on the wall. My eyes zeroed in on the streak that ran through my hair. The strands were so dark that most would mistake the color for black, but I knew when they caught the sunlight, they would blaze with a crimson hue. I hadn't lost control of my disguise like this in years, but it didn't matter. The time had come to let Camille go. She'd served her purpose. I tugged on the power in my core and bile rushed up my throat. My skin rippled and the tint of my hair changed, but I released the power almost as soon as I touched it. My body was beyond its limits. Adjustments would have to be made after I'd recovered and eaten a full meal; otherwise, I'd be found on the floor like a perfectly wrapped gift.

"Time to go," I said, pulling the door open.

"And just where are you going?"

Calum stuck his foot through the doorway before the door closed. 

"Sorry, not really up for visitors right now," I joked, stumbling backwards. I didn't even have the energy left for my heart to race; instead, everything slowed down and went numb as he moved towards me.

The living room was covered in a smoky haze, and his dark eyes roved over the room. His jaw tensed as the flickering light highlighted the bloody handprints on the wall. Assessing me for damage and finding no evidence, he sighed deeply. 

"Mind telling me what happened here?"

"My parents told me not to talk to strangers," I answered, pushing past him and heading to the front door. Futile, but giving in wasn't my M.O.

I let out a hiss as he snatched my wounded arm. "These games are going to stop. I stood up for you yesterday. I was so certain you weren't anything more than an innocent bystander caught up in this, and then you run off and do something this stupid."

Pulling free, I cradled my arm against my chest. "Sounds like you're the stupid one for placing that much trust in someone you didn't know. You think that just because you spent an evening creeping on me in a bar you can vouch for my character?"

 A warning in the back of mind told me that following this line of argument wasn't going to help my cause, but then a stronger voice reminded me I was the innocent one. I shouldn't have a cause to argue.

He stomped towards me, bursting my personal bubble. Disappointment and anger warred with another emotion I couldn't place. I squirmed beneath his gaze but held my ground. "You know what. You're right. I was a fool, but let's say I'm usually not wrong about people. I still don't think I'm wrong about you, but you're making it damn hard to keep you safe."

"I didn't ask you to keep me safe. I was doing a decent job of staying safe until you and your crew came into my place of employment. You weren't even there for me so why can't I leave?"

I turned on my heel, but the dramatic exit was ruined by the wave of dizziness that sent me face first into the carpet.

"You are not laughing at me," I spit out.

"Not at all," he responded, before letting a chuckle slip out. "Here, let me help you."

"I'm fine." 

The response was immediate. The terror I'd felt when I opened my door had faded. Something about this man riled me up in a way that had nothing to do with being afraid but letting him touch me was not in my best interest. I tried to stand, but the world tipped sideways. Strong arms caught me before I could return to the ground.

"This is why you shouldn't have left the house. You were unconscious for three days."

"You know what, you're right. In fact, I think I'll just head back to my bedroom." And go out the window and down the fire escape. I pushed at him, but it was as effective as pushing against a wall.

"What this?" His large hand wrapped around my wrist. A scarlet spot was seeping through the cuff of my coat. "Did you get shot?"

"It's just a graze. Hey, put me down," I shouted as Calum scooped me up. "Stupid, stubborn man."

"Stupid and stubborn? You just spent the night on the run when you'd barely recovered from your last brush with death. I've been talking to you for ten minutes now, and you just happened to neglect telling me that you were bleeding to death? Yeah, pot meet kettle."

I leaned my head against his shoulder. Cooperation would only serve my own interests right now as I couldn't get far in this condition. I nodded to myself as if that was proof enough that I wasn't completely delusional.

"Hey," Calum said, shaking me slightly in his arms. "Keep those eyes open."

"Can't keep them open. Too heavy."

"Hey now. Eyes on me. Camille."

I mumbled something incoherent before succumbing to the darkness.