Avery
The sleepy street in the quaint village wasn’t ready for angels, dragons, and demon blood. We parked up, across from a cottage with twitchy net curtains and eyes that pried at newcomers. Char’s red front door had an interesting door knocker shaped like a leaning broomstick. I smiled despite myself. She always loved an inside joke.
“This is the place?” Erik said, disbelief etched into his features. His face was smeared with black blood and an ugly burn marred his neck.
We’d pulled on spare clothes from the car. I wore one of his t-shirts that looked more like a dress. There had been a small skirmish about whose spare shirt I would wear, but Erik prevailed. The chilly breeze whipped around my exposed legs.
“Hopefully, she still lives here. It was a family home, so I couldn’t see he
