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“I’ve lost Sunny,” she tells us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Séverin sit bolt upright.

My heart plummets. “What do you mean you’ve lost him?”

“I left him in the bathroom to get him some water and now he’s gone.”

“Did you check his workshop?” I ask, throwing a glance at Séverin.

Lara’s eyes flick in his direction before landing back on me. “Yep. Café too. He’s just disappeared. He didn’t look well.”

This isn’t good, but I try not to panic. He could be anywhere in the museum, or maybe he’s gone out to smoke.

Lara turns to Séverin, who is clever enough to tuck his chin so she can’t see the bruises poking over the top of his collar. “Can you check outside?” she asks pointedly.

If his pale vampiric skin could blanch any further, I’m sure Séverin’s would.

He fumbles for an answer, but I cut in. “I’ll do that. You check the east wing, and I’ll check the basement.” The freezers are down there. Between our office and Sunday’s workshop, it’s the most likely place left.

“Oui.” He nods, waiting until Lara’s gone, his hands slipping into his pockets, probably to stop himself from prodding at his mouth.

The hair on my arms rises as I jog down the basement steps, the ringing in my ears swelling in a crescendo.

Noise comes from farther down, something I can’t make out with how it echoes in the space. The lights are flickering, which normally wouldn’t be odd, considering this is the oldest part of the building. But, when combined with the sounds that I’m coming to realize is labored, rough breathing…?

My feet move quickly as I hurry toward the source of the noise.

Sure enough, when I turn down one of the corridors, the guttering lights illuminate the man I’m falling for all over again. He’s standing away from me, head tipped back, staring at the ceiling.

I cast my eyes up as I walk toward him, but don’t see anything.

“Sunday,” I call quietly, noticing the tension in every line of his body.

My feet slip on something wet as I approach him, the light glints off the puddle at our feet. It’s only then that I notice the ammonia smell.

Oh, Sunday.

I slowly step aside, skirting the edge of it, working my way around to his front. He doesn’t move.

Because he can’t.

I see it now, the way that his body is completely locked up, fingers and wrists flexed painfully at his sides. The cords of his tendons are stark and visible from the strain in his neck, his jaw clenched hard enough that I can hear his teeth rubbing together. There’s a dark stain spreading across the crotch of his jeans, seeping down his legs. I look up at his face, a gasp flying out of my mouth.

Dark veins of red poison his left eye, the white almost buried in the bloody hue. The other remains white, but still swallowed by fear.

His breathing is harsh, drool slipping out the side of his mouth, running down his jaw and neck.

I slam a hand to my mouth to stifle my whimper, a shudder working its way through my entire body.

“Oh my god,” I cry. He must be in so much agony right now, and I have no fucking idea what to do. Every useful thing I’ve ever learned falls straight out of my mind as his eyes slide to mine, my skin crawling under his gaze.

I don’t know who it is that’s looking at me.

His lips twitch like he’s trying to form words. A fresh string of drool leaves his mouth as a low growl works its way up from the base of his throat.

“R-r-rrun.”

I’m catapulted back in time, to a woodland with an old hut and a bonfire. To a body that was unsure and scared.

I ran then.