with the outline of a teapot on it, and peered inside.

Grace's older sister, Lena Alan, was standing behind the front counter. The drawer of the register was open, and she appeared to be counting out the cash. Then she stopped, a wad of bills in one hand. She quickly swiped at her eyes. Her mouth trembled. Asher blinked.

She was crying.

Lena visibly sighed, and started over. Asher scanned the rest of the shop for Grace. There was no sign of her. He took a deep breath and listened for movement in the back kitchen. No use. There wasn't so much as a mouse sneeze. Asher ground his teeth together.

Grace wasn't there.

Now he really should leave. He didn't have time to be trailing one girl all over the city. Butflooded his nostrils. Reflex stopped Asher in his tracks. Blood. His mouth instantly started to water. His fangs descended from his gums. He'd come here well-fed, but fuck, whoever's blood that was, it smelled delicious. There was a subtle bitterness to it, a smell like...

Patchouli.

Asher took off again at a dead sprint. Grace was in trouble. Grace was hurt. A small, snide voice in the back of his head questioned why he gave a shit. Asher ignored it. He slowed, ducked down a narrow, graffiti-plastered alley and took in a deep breath. The male's scent had faded. Asher squinted. Near the end of the alley, a familiar figure sat slumped against the wall.

He drew a little closer. "Grace?"

She didn't turn. In the semi-darkness, he could vaguely see her