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I

Hodges’s gaze rested on a box at Rider’s feet. It was the size of a man’s head. They had sat facing each other at the fireside for nearly an hour while waiting for the earl, yet she had made no effort to explain what the box contained and Hodges was too much of a gentleman to ask. Occasionally, he would catch a whiff of something rotten. She crossed her ankles, and he averted his gaze as a lacy hem flashed beneath her skirt.
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At twilight the brigands took him.

They caught him along the old abbey road shortcut trying to beat the coming dark. Even as they leapt out of the woods and started clubbing him the sun was slipping red down the horizon. Tying his hands in front of him and pulling him along behind them through the trees the motley crew laughed and jeered while behind them the setting sun was quickly disappearing.
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Moreover ye shall eat no manner of blood, whether it be of fowl or beast, in any of your dwellings. — Leviticus 7:26

“If blood appears in your dream, beware of strange friendships.” — BLOOD: from the book “10,000 Dreams Interpreted, A Dictionary of Dreams”
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He is home by six o’clock and in a flash of optimism, puts out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He walks around the downstairs rooms, looking at them with a stranger’s eye. He plumps up the cushions on the sofa. By seven o’clock he is showered and wearing well cut black jeans and a pale blue shirt.

By seven fifteen, when Caro is quarter of an hour late, he feels a fool for believing that a beautiful blonde he has met at a New Year’s Eve fancy dress party could ever be interested in him. He starts to open the wine and nearly drops the bottle when the doorbell rings.
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White light, white pain.

Nothing else.

Then voices at the edges.

“This one’s a priority…”
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