“Lorelei!” called a man at the end of the room.

So, I finally had a name for the woman who’d taken everything from me. An odd name, but then again, who knew when or where she’d been born.

“Yes, Jack?” Lorelei called back.

He had a sculpted face, piercing blue eyes and a lilting English accent. He’d have been incredibly attractive if his entire lower face wasn’t smeared with blood.

“I’ve got some takeaway in the dining room,” he said, an unpleasant smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. “Plenty to go around, if you’re thirsty.”

“Oh Jack, you are such a gentleman!” Lorelei exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight. She grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

It was a small room. Plastic sheets had been laid over the floor and hung on all the walls. Inside, a man lay bleeding.

The smell hit me.

Like hunger, thirst, lust and need all rolled into one: stronger than the most powerful of all addictions.

My breathing sped up. I wet my lips, my teeth brushing gently over my tongue.

There is always a price.