Free Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning by J.S. Strange

houses were undisturbed and sometimes, through the drawn curtains, the glare of a TV set could be seen. For now, normal life went on.
                  “It doesn’t look like anything too bad has happened just yet,” Connor whispered. Even though they hadn’t seen anything, both were frightened they would round a corner and face what they had just escaped. “I think there’s still time for there to be a warning issued.”
                  “Who cares about that at the moment?” Winter whispered back. “We need to find somewhere to stay.”
                  They hurried forwards, trying to keep their footsteps as quiet as possible. Winter wondered if anybody here knew what was happening just a town away.
                  “Winter.” Connor stopped.
                  Winter turned around with slight aggravation. She was worried now; she needed to find somewhere safe. They couldn’t keep stopping. She gripped the table leg, prepared to use it if need be.
                  Connor was looking down a dark street, lit only by two lampposts, and dull yellow lights from flats above cheap shops. All seemed quiet. At the bottom of the lane, a girl stood on the street corner, checking the time on a wristwatch.
                  “Do you think she’s…human?” Winter asked, feeling ridiculous.
                  “She’s not screeching, is she?” Connor shrugged.
                  Regardless, Winter and Connor walked slowly down the street, keeping in the shadows. They heard people talking in the shops they passed, Winter noticing a 24/7 diner, the door propped open, a bored looking waitress at the counter. Winter crouched down behind a parked car, Connor doing the same. They peered around either end at the girl at the end of the street, cast in a dull yellow glow from one of the lamps above.
                  She was wearing a small dress with a pink stripe that stopped at the top of her thighs, revealing long, thin legs that were covered in black fishnets. Her hair was black and long, falling over her shoulders. She wore leather gloves and high-heeled boots, plastic and white, with money stored away in the heel. She seemed to be awaiting someone, checking the watch on her arm and sighing.
                  “What’s the time?” Winter whispered. She wondered why this girl was out so late. She didn’t look any older than Winter, she guessed she was the same age.
                  Connor took out his phone. Winter wished she hadn’t lost hers back at home. “It’s five to twelve.”
                  It seemed later. The party hadn’t really started. Her parents had bargained it would go on all night. None of that mattered now.
                  As Winter and Connor watched, a black Jaguar sports car drove slowly down the road. It pulled over towards the girl and parked up.
                  The girl waited where she was. For a few seconds there was nothing, then the driver got out.
                  Winter saw he was old. At least in his sixties, he was wearing a suit of a rich design and his hair was balding. His stomach protruded beneath his suit, and a line of sweat sat on his blemished forehead.
                  The girl on the street corner seemed to be sizing him up. As the man began walking around the car, the girl spat something to the ground and ran a hand over her hair.
                  Then, everything happened suddenly.
                  The man began to hunch over. The girl stepped away from him, her mouth hanging open slightly. He threw up, all over the car bonnet, and even in the dark night Winter saw it was blood. The man fell to the floor, his skin beginning to decay, his body beginning to die.
                  Winter didn’t think about what she did next.
                  She