VEE

By the time we arrive at the town where Casey and Seth were based, the night and cold have set in. I suggested we wait until the morning, but Xander's eager to check the place out as soon as possible. We left Ewan to work through the information we gathered earlier today, and Joss stayed with him. Determined to prove my freak-out performance earlier was a blip, I pushed to come here.

Now I'm unsure. The hall no longer looks like a nondescript council building to me, but a horrific crime scene I don't want to approach.

The car park is empty and the place untouched. I expected police tape—something—but there's no evidence this has become a crime scene.

"Didn't you contact the police about what you found?" I ask.

Xander opens the car door to climb out. "We don't involve ourselves in police investigations."

"You could contact them anonymously?" I suggest as I step into the gloomy November evening.

Heath rests his arms on the car roof as he looks across at me. "The demon Order are everywhere, and that includes the police. We had to search past a false report to find John's death, remember? Someone hid that. We don't want anyone else to know until we've made our own investigation."

"Right." I stare out at the street and away from the hall. Rain trickles onto my hood, and onto the people passing in their humdrum lives. "This hall is in the middle of a town. It's a public facility and not a derelict building. If Casey and Seth hired it, how long for? When do they need to return the keys? Someone will find this soon."

"And we'll be long gone," replies Xander. "Don't stress."

Don't stress? Is he serious?

"Then let's not hang around," I reply. "I'm not comfortable here."

I splash through a puddle as I walk away from the guys and the car. I have a point to prove; I can go back in there and cope this time.

Xander hurries to catch up and Heath walks along side, the pair flanking me. The closer I get, the harder the human Vee attempts to push her emotions through.

I can do this.

I'm strong.

The door is closed but not locked, and Xander examines the door, close to the base. "Nobody's been back here."

"How do you know?" I ask.

He points. "I taped aluminium wire to the door, which breaks easily. It's intact." He pulls at the door and the wire snaps. "So Seth hasn't been back, unless he somehow has the exact same wire as me and attached it."

"Doubtful." Heath looks at me. "Okay?"

"Stop fussing," I say through gritted teeth and stride inside after Xander.

I spent the journey here re-imagining everything I witnessed in preparation for what I might see next. Little has changed in the scene greeting me—the same upturned furniture and message on the wall; the burnt-paper smell still lingers. Xander and Heath set about rummaging through everything. Heath tips a waste bin filled with burnt papers onto the table, but there's little salvageable in the ash. Xander crouches on the floor close to the blood and message, and I search beneath the sofa and in the small kitchen area.

Nothing.

I perch on the sofa and watch Xander who stands in the middle of the room pulling on his bottom lip. The frustration on his face grows, and a glance at Heath shows he's not much happier.

"I told you we found everything already," says Heath.

"Yeah, I just needed to know whether he came back, or if anybody had been here since we left."

"I told you, I doubt he will." I pick at the rug across the sofa. "What do we do now?"

"I want to watch the place," Xander replies. "See if anybody is waiting until dark. Maybe we can check out some other places in town."

"Like where? The pub?" I say sarcastically.

I groan when the guys glance at each other and nod. "Don't forget you're driving, Heath.”

"I'm bloody hungry too. Aren't you?" he replies.

"Yeah, let's go."

As Xander strides from the hall, Heath hangs back and says in a low voice. "At least we can regroup and Xander can take some time to mull things over. The longer we go with finding nothing, the more determined he'll be to keep going."

And the worse his temper will get.

* * *

Gold lettering on a sign above the opposite building reads "The Lions Inn,” and I follow the boys through the green door into the pub. Tables and chairs are crammed into the small space between the doorway and bar; three men at the table closest to us don't register our arrival, eyes fixed on the TV screen above the short bar. The smell of stale beer accompanies my walk across the dirty carpet to a small round table surrounded by low stools. Xander's smile grows when he discovers it's positioned in a small window facing out onto the street. Heavy burgundy curtains obscure part of the view, but the car park and old hall are visible.

The pub is half-full, and judging by their careful scrutiny, most customers are locals. The town doesn't have any features to attract tourists, another commuter settlement that absorbed the original settlement. A few here look like the original residents too; elderly men play dominos at a table close to ours.

Xander orders food, and I watch as the young barmaid flirts with him. He switches on his brighter persona, all smiles and well-rehearsed smoulder, which causes a twinge in my chest. I'm not upset he's flirting, I never expected that behaviour to stop, but he's being nice. Me, the girl he had sex with yesterday, enjoys the sullen Xander, and this one is graced with the man who has girls eating out of his hand.

I have to fight him for everything.

"You okay?" asks Heath and laces his fingers through mine. "Was it too much for you to come back here?"

"No. I'm tired. Life's non-stop."

Heath pulls me to him in a hug and kisses the top of my head.

"Yeah. You'll get used to it."

I'm glad he can't see my expression anymore because I'm not feeling great right now.

Xander returns with two pint glasses and an orange juice between his hands. He sets them on the table and pulls out the opposite stool.

"What?" he asks "Why are you looking at me like that?”

"Were you flirting with her or getting information?"

Xander picks up his glass and drinks slowly, watching me from over the edge. His expression annoys me because I can't read his eyes or what he's thinking.

"Information," he says and places his glass down. "Ever considered we look the way we do for a reason? It's sure as hell easier to talk people around when you can charm them."

"And you're such a charmer, Xan," says Heath with a laugh.

"Yeah, I guess the Four Middle-aged, Overweight Horsemen of the Apocalypse wouldn't have the same success with charming the female population into helping them," I reply. "Fortunate."

Xander breaks into a smile. "Hence your alluring self."

"Huh?"

"Because you have a piece of each of us inside you of course you're attractive too."

"This is a bizarre conversation, Xander," replies Heath. "Have you been brooding over who we all are, again?"

"I don't brood, that’s your job, emo guy."

"I should do it your way, huh? Hold everything in until I explode?"

"He sure does explode," I reply, and fix my eyes on Xander.

Xander runs his tongue along his teeth. I'm pissed off he hasn't spoken to me about what happened in the hotel. Not just the room-shattering sex but the affection afterwards. He's withdrawn again. Has he returned to distrusting me?

But why compare him to the open and affectionate guy holding my hand? Our relationship is nothing like mine with Xander. Or any of the others. Isn't that what I like? That they are all different—that we complement each other in different ways?

"So what did you question her about?" I ask.

"Whether anybody who looks like Seth or Casey have visited. No, apparently. 'Other people don't come here' were her words."

Heath smirks and sips his beer. "Beware of the locals."

Following Xander's words, the other patrons’ scrutiny unnerves me further. Bloody ridiculous I'm worried about what these people think after my recent experiences.

The guys fill themselves with the usual junk: pies, chips, beer. My appetite isn't great, and I'm touched by their fussing when I choose pumpkin soup.

"I hope we don't need to chase anyone," I say as Heath pushes his plate to one side. "You'll get a stitch."

He shakes his head with an amused smile. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

Xander's attention is drawn to the window through most of the meal, and he misses my comment to Heath. I look over as Xander straightens again and cranes his neck, as a guy walks by. The man keeps walking and doesn't cross over to the hall; Xander’s shoulders slump again.

"If you're done here, maybe we can switch our focus elsewhere?" I suggest. "It's late, we've had a hell of a day, and maybe things will be clearer tomorrow? Ewan could have more info."

Xander taps the beer mat on the table. "I want to stay. And I don't mean for more beer."

"We haven't seen anyone go inside," I reply.

"Another half an hour?" suggests Heath. "Compromise."

"Fine." Xander places his elbows on the table, hands beneath his chin as he switches his attention back to the window.