Vampire Cohorts Blood Bound

Don't let there be ashes or scorch marks. Please, don't let there be ashes. I couldn't even think about it. I'd as good as lost Conn and I couldn't face losing Will as well. He'd been my anchor when no one else could be, and the thought of him being ripped from the world - of him being forced into Valhalla - horrified me. >Please. Not that. Anything but that. Maybe that was the wrong prayer to cast towards the heavens. 'Anything' was too open a request, and what waited for me in the Land Rover warned of a fate just as dire as Valhalla. The sight of the ticket - tied to the steering wheel by someone's cruel hands - turned my body to ice. That scrap of card - a simple slip of paper with faded print and ragged edges - had steel bands of dread constricting around my chest, more so than the blood smeared over the deflated airbag. I recognised it instantly from the winged, feminine silhouette decorating the front; one of Ragnar's original tickets to the Celebratio Sanguinem. That slice of my past had survived more than a hundred years; a calling card which left me in no doubt about who'd taken my friend. Osgar had Will.