Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

Spike sucked the last bit from his cigarette and flicked the remains toward the Seine.

"Drusilla," he called again as he watched her wander off in the direction of two old buildings - more specifically, a swath of deep darkness between the two. Then he muttered under his breath. "Oh, what the bloody hell has gotten into her head now?" A list of possible distractions went through his mind, ranging from a stray cat to starlight reflecting off the foil of a gum wrapper.

"What is it, Dru?" Spike asked as he started to follow her. "What's caught your fancy?"

He heard her speaking softly, but knew it was not to him. Again he peered into the darkness that seemed to be her destination. All he could see was inky black. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Spike was startled by the frisson of fear that raced through him and he paused uncertainly. Drusilla was about to reach the patch of shadows.