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lean away from him as he passed.  The memory of Arnie’s pub was still a little raw and the stench coming off the man reminded me of everything about the place.  Not that I missed it of course but at least then I hadn’t been bothered by dangerous Fae or slightly clairvoyant old women or threatening Voices. 
    Just when I thought I was out of the danger zone and he’d passed me by, however, he spun around and jabbed a finger in my direction.  “You!  You are burning, little girl.”
    I shied away and glared at him, trying to ignore the sudden thudding beat of my heart.  “Get away from me, little man,” I hissed back at him.  “I don’t know you and I don’t know what you are on about.”
    I desperately tried to work out what he was.  Definitely not Fae or pack but he could sense my blood.  Vampire?  But, no, it was still too light outside despite the midwinter gloom that hung over the sky.  He could be warlock, I supposed.  Would my silver work against him?  I cast a nervous glance up at the driver and wondered if I could disable the guy without appearing to have really hurt him.  We were nearing a bend so when the driver’s attention was completely on the road I thought I could direct a hit at his shins and make a dash for it.  The bus doors were automatic but I could probably wrench them open without too much difficulty.  This depended on the whisky-sodden creature in front of me though.  If he possessed some serious power – and to sense my blood fire he probably had a fair amount already – then a little kick wouldn’t do much to get him out of the way.  I started to reach up to loosen the silver needles from hair, just in case.  They couldn’t do any harm and it was just possible that silver could be a deterrent for him.
    As I did so, however, he spoke again, with a hacking cackle that hinted at a few too many cigarettes burning up his lungs over the passage of time.  “Ow!  You’re just too hot for words.  Will you marry me?”
    He dramatically fell to his knees and held out a hand.  The bus driver called out from the front with the tone of someone who’d seen all this before. “Jack, stop bothering the young lady and get to a seat.”
    The tension immediately fell away from my body.   He was just a drunk, trying his luck.  I’d never have made this kind of mistake when I was back with the pack in Cornwall.  In fact I usually prided myself on being to read people’s body language and intentions.  All this paranoia and looking over my shoulder was doing me absolutely no good whatsoever.  I was jumping at shadows and harmless locals.  Jack, for his part, staggered to his feet, and with the expression on his face of someone who had been terribly wronged weaved his way to the back seat of the bus where he promptly lay down and began snoring loudly.  The bus driver shrugged at me apologetically in the mirror. 
    I sighed deeply and pinched off a headache.  Goddamnit.  I really was reading too much into things – into everything.  Solus was real but perhaps my over-active imagination was working over-time to make me stupidly jumpy at everything else.  Mrs Alcoon was probably exactly what she seemed: a little old lady who ran a failing bookshop and had a penchant for nasty herbal tea. In fact even Corrigan’s Voice had been so faint earlier today that maybe I’d even imagined that too.  I had to get a grip on reality.  Once I re-located somewhere else, somewhere I was sure I’d be safe, then I’d have to do my best to stop freaking out at every little thing.
    Fortunately, a few minutes later, the bus pulled up at the stop that I wanted.  It was still a couple of miles’ hike to the Cairns themselves, but the path was well worn and clearly marked so I knew it wouldn’t take me long.  I shifted my backpack to a comfortable position and tied the straps in front to avoid too much unnecessary bounce and took off at a jog.
    The path wound itself around some low lying