The rain beat down in sheets as he made his way back to his dingy tenement. He’d woken up in his clothes again in an abandoned warehouse in the Docklands, reeking of magicks, reefer, and sex, trying to remember the name of the bloke he’d spent the night with. Stephen or Nathan. Keenan perhaps. Didn’t matter, he’d bolted before he woke.
A chill went up his spine as he noticed a shadow from the street lamp off to his right and pulled the stake from inside his jacket.
His eyes lit up in recognition. “Ethan! Thank the gods!”