When I do, because he was certain it was possible, it will be well after midnight when all the occupants are sleeping. Then all I have to do is search for the flask of blood and pray that I can find it before dawn and then make my escape. If not, then I suppose I’ll have to return every night until I do.
With that thought, Lochlan left the alley and went in search of an inn. He found one he could afford amid the shops in the middle-class section of the city, not too far from Lord Anfroy’s house, at least in distance. In feeling, it was a long way from the opulence of the houses owned by Folkestone’s wealthy citizens.
“One day,” he murmured in vexation as he strode toward the inn, “there won’t be such segregation.” He wished he really believed what he was saying, but knew it was unlikely
