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twined into mine. Great timing, I thought, as I sank on to the floor, and into the vision.
    It was of me. Again. Which was an alarming trend, but not as alarming as the fact that I was screaming in agony. My stomach was wracked with cramping pains, and when I looked down, it was huge. The size of a hump-backed whale. I was pregnant and, it seemed, about to give birth. He was there, Gabriel, at my side – not holding my hand or offering breathing advice like dads on telly, but wielding a vast golden sword. A sword that was … on fire.
    I regained consciousness as quickly as I lost it, and found myself yet again lying in Gabriel’s arms. This was getting to be a habit, and bearing in mind the subject matter of that last flash, not one I wanted to encourage.
    ‘You OK?’ he asked, half an eye on me, half scanning our surroundings, presumably for mysterious and threatening assassin types.
    ‘Yeah,’ I said, looking at him cautiously. ‘But before we go any further, I should make one thing clear: I will not, under any circumstances, be having your baby!’

Chapter Five
    ‘I need to go home,’ I said.
    ‘You can’t go home,’ he replied.
    ‘You can’t stop me,’ I said. OK, so that last statement was patently untrue, but I’ve got my pride. And I really, really needed a shower.
    ‘You can shower at my place,’ he countered, doing that infuriating mind-reading trick again.
    ‘I don’t think so, lover boy – not after that last vision. That was like living birth control, as far as I’m concerned. No more touching. Of any kind.’
    ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, pulling his dust-covered sweater over his head and shaking it. Underneath he was wearing a grey jersey T-shirt that clung like water to every ridge of muscle, every perfectly outlined abdominal. Which really wasn’t playing fair.
    I averted my eyes, like a proper lady should, and tried to ignore his smirking expression. We could both do with a shower, truth be told. And, in my case, possibly a new identity and a safe house.
    We were in a small playground near the old station. Gabriel thought our pursuers would be patrolling the mainline routes looking for us, so we’d retreated to the park to regroup. For him, that involved being very bossy, and for me, it involved trying exceptionally hard not to lose my now-fragile control.
    ‘They’re looking for you. They want to kill you. What part of that don’t you understand?’
    ‘All of it,’ I replied, sneaking a look to check he was decently clad again. ‘I don’t even know who “they” are.’
    ‘Do you trust me?’ he asked, grabbing hold of my chin and twisting my face upwards so I was looking into his eyes. I slapped his hand away viciously.
    ‘No! I don’t even know you. Why should I trust you, when all you’ve done so far is evade my questions, raid my brain and drag me through collapsing tunnels?’
    ‘You missed out the bit about saving your life.’
    ‘I only have your word for that, Gabriel. If that’s even your name. So you do what you like, but I’m going home. I’m going home, I’m having a shower, and I’m going to work. That’s just the way it is.’
    He stood tall, in fact even taller than he usually was. I couldn’t tell how it was happening, but his body seemed to be getting bigger. His face was set and determined, and the violet in his eyes had dimmed and deepened and was now almost black.
    ‘I won’t allow it. It is my duty to protect you, and I will die trying if I have to.’
    O-kay. There was clearly going to be a personality clash here, and frankly I didn’t know how to handle it. I live an independent life. I’ve learned to cope with a whole lot of weirdness and isolation, and have formed my own existence despite that. But growing up with Coleen also ingrained in me a deep respect for – by which I mean fear of – authority. I never choose direct conflict, and have instead evolved a set of behavioural rules that usually allow me to live how I want to