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to my dire living conditions.
    “No, I mean tonight.” Étoile cocked her head to one side as if she were listening to something far away before her head inclined towards the television. She stepped closer to it and her mouth opened a little bit as the newsreader recapped the evening’s stories. She uttered a soft moan of sadness. The TV sizzled, snapped off and I sighed. Great, just when I was getting curious with the news. How would I find out what else was happening now? Trust my TV to burn out at the least appropriate moment. I’d only just settled on the idea that my pursuers tonight might be the same as the – what had they called themselves? – the Brotherhood and now I wouldn’t be able to find out anything more.
    Étoile took a step further into my living space and I followed her gaze as she examined the shabbiness, the lack of personality, the lack of... anything. “We need to get you somewhere safe,” she said, at last.
    “Who’s we? I’m not going anywhere.” I ignored her assumption that there was more than one person who had a say in what was going on.
    “We are your friends and we want to protect you. It’s not safe for you here anymore. Not since the Brotherhood are actively hunting our kind down.” Étoile spat the words out with distaste and turned to focus on me again. “We’ll take you somewhere we can protect you, and we’ll look after you.”
    “What if I don’t want to go? I’ve known you for, oh, a New York minute, and you want me to swan off with you who knows where? I don’t think so.” I shook my head in defiance. I was used to doing things my way, being totally self-sufficient and looking out only for myself. Not like that was getting me anywhere , nagged a little voice at the edge of my mind.
    “I suppose a fiery death sounds better?” Étoile raised an eyebrow and I had the fleeting thought that I wished I could do that. It was just plain cool, the opposite of me. She nodded at the TV and the black and white snow the picture had settled on.
    I shook the thought from my head. “Not much.”
    “Then you need to trust me.” Étoile scanned the room again, this time looking for something specific and her eyes alighted on my old sports bag. She grabbed it and tossed it on the sofa bed. “Pack whatever you need. We’ll have to leave the rest. I imagine you’ll get over it.” She tilted her head again as if she were listening for something and not liking whatever she heard or didn’t hear, but her voice was urgent. “And, hurry.”
    “I’m not going anywhere.” I squared my shoulders and faced the woman down. I’d had a lifetime of being shunted around with barely any notice from home to home as a child and as an adult I’d suffered through countless temp jobs and grotty flats. Was it too much to ask me what I wanted to do?
    “I’ll force you if I have to, and, trust me, I don’t want to. If I lose another witch, I’m toast.” I looked questioningly at her and she pulled an apologetic face. “A poor choice of words, perhaps.”
    “Lose another witch? Are you calling me a... witch?” I wasn’t sure whether I should feel quite so affronted.
    Étoile looked at me as if I might as well just flap my jaw and spare us both the idiotic questions. Despite my sympathy for the women on the TV screen, I wasn’t too happy about being called a witch. From my knowledge, witches were invariably portrayed as warty things with terrible dress sense and even worse hair. I might not have supermodel looks but I was vain enough not to appreciate such a moniker, or the weight of the word. I might come to regret that.
    Étoile nodded at the television again which was starting to spit out some noise. Perhaps it wasn’t totally kaput after all. “I was too late for her.” I knew she had to be referring to the embers that had been the last image. I gulped.
    “Where are we going?” The words were out of my mouth before I realised I had made a decision to trust her.
    “We