Free Bulletproof (Healer) by April Smyth Page B

uncertain future. I wish Rose was here. Her effervescent personality would coax me into a more relaxed state but Gabe is the closest I’ve got to a companion right now. “Could you sit with me?” I ask shyly and I can hear Chec laugh heartily. The sound grates on me.
                  Gabe is tall so he has to dip his head considerably low to get into the limo so his face is so close it almost knocks into mine, “Sorry.”
                  Chec shuts the door behind us with his big clown face jeering at us and starts to drive us through Paris. I have never been in a limo before and I drink in the luxury of it slowly. The windows are tinted and it’s getting dark outside which makes it difficult for me to watch. I want to see the Parisians going about their day to day life. But from what I can make out, there isn’t much to see right now other than busy strangers wandering down pavements. 
                  “You can take that wig off now,” Gabe says. “We’re in the clear.”
                  I envision the world split into zones. My hometown being the red zone; there are sirens and red flashing beacons on every corner. When Gabe escorted me to Rose’s home in Manchester we were in the amber zone. Still dangerous and we could only stay there for a few days before the warning lights would begin again. Now we are safe. Paris is the green zone. People are tending to their own business either entirely disinterested in us or perhaps they do notice us and do suspect we are involved with the elite underground vampires but are too wary of becoming involved in such a risky situation. That’s what a sensible person would do, I remind myself, stay away from the fanged fiends but as I sit in a limousine being chauffeured around Paris, I am struggling to see the downsides.  
                  “Don’t you like it?” I ask, whipping off the wig and feeling a wave of relief. It was making my head hot and covering my scalp with a burning prickly feeling that I struggled not to scratch at. But I’m aware that my blonde waves are clamped to my head with sweat now.
                  I didn’t expect him to answer but he shakes his head, “You look much better blonde.”
                  I blush, “Oh.”
                  Flutes of champagne and strawberries dipped in an assortment of chocolate lie on a decadent silver tray. I’m hungry now, remembering that the last I ate was the bran flakes and dried fruit I had this morning, my stomach growls. 
                  Gabe swallows down a glass of champagne in one large gulp. I wish Rose was here to look at him scornfully for drinking so garishly. “Help yourself,” he says, picking up a drink and thrusting it in my face.
                  “No thanks,” I say declining the champagne because what I really want is those juicy red strawberries. Some dipped in dark chocolate, others swathed in chocolate so light it looks like fresh cream. Fresh cream, I think and my stomach lets out another roar. 
                  Gabe must hear how angry my body is now and lifts the plate of sweet fruit, “Take as much as you want…” then he adds with a hint of bitterness, “It’s all for you, princess.”
                  The shocking sweetness of the ripe fruit is delightful on my parched tongue. Pink juice is squeezed out of the strawberries as I bite deep into them and it dribbles down my chin. I don’t even both to mop it up with the serviettes provided. The chocolate is sensuous and creates a thick river coursing through my mouth, sticking to my teeth and the underside of my tongue. I think of the strawberries planted in my back garden at home. The ones Bruce and Jana help Shannon pick every Summer. I can see Jana covered in mud, the same strawberry jam oozing out of his small mouth and down her face. I smile at the memory of my dad lounging, watching