One week later, Emelia stands on top of a grassy hill overlooking the park.

She takes a long drag from her cigarette, relishing the acerbic burn as the tobacco fills her lungs, and stares out at the distant lights of London city.

Tonight is colder than usual and the smell of gunpowder hangs in the air, leftover from the recent fireworks display. The muffled voices of other bonfire attendees filter through the breeze.

Distracted, she doesn't hear anyone approach until the cigarette is snatched from her hand. Disgruntled, Emelia turns to glare at the culprit. A pretty face framed by goldish-blonde curls scowls back at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Emelia asks.

"These things are bad for you, you know," her younger cousin Sofie says. "They'll give you cancer. It says it on the pack."

"Everything gives you cancer nowadays," Emelia points out. "Give it back."

Instead, Sofie drops it to the ground and stomps on it with the sole of her converse.

"That's littering," Emelia comments, unable to resist, and watches as Sofie quickly picks the now-flattened cigarette back up.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I don't want some animal to eat it and get sick," her cousin explains. So typical of her to be concerned for a wild animal's welfare.

At that moment, Emelia's phone rings. She pulls it out and glances down, already knowing who it's going to be. Reuben's name flashes across the screen.

"You're not going to answer that?" Sofie asks curiously.

"Nope," Emelia says, shoving the phone back into her jacket pocket but not before checking the time. "Come on, it's getting late. Let's go."

They follow the path leading down the hill and out of the park. On their way to the train station, they take a shortcut through a housing estate Emelia is familiar with.

Most of the flats are empty, having been scheduled for demolition to make room for more modern developments. Up ahead, a raven flies, seeming to materialise from thin air out of the dark night sky.

Emelia watches it as it glides over them from above, its large wings like clawed black fingers.

Her attention is drawn away from the bird when Sofie suddenly stops and stares intently into the car park up ahead, across the street. Emelia stops too, confused.

"What is it?" she asks, following the other girl's gaze.

Three shadowy figures stand in the centre of the empty car park, perfectly still and silent.

A chill instantly runs down Emelia's spine. Who hangs out in an empty car park late at night?

She doesn't want to discover the answer to that question. However, she now sees the dilemma they face.

If they want to continue walking this way, they will have to directly pass the car park and risk being spotted its occupants.

She doesn't like the idea of getting mugged or followed home by vagrants of society. If there is one good thing Emelia's parents have taught her, it is to never trust anyone who is poorly dressed or hanging around late at night for no apparent reason.

"I think we should head back," Sofie says, sounding nervous.

"Me too," Emelia agrees. "Let's-"

A loud and unexpected roar of an engine cuts her off mid-sentence.

Her heart leaps into her throat and, in a moment of panic, she yanks Sofie across the street where a large yellow skip filled with furniture and other items left behind by recently evicted tenants.

Slipping behind it, they squat down and watch as a dark car comes speeding down the street, its tires screeching as it comes to a violent halt just a few feet away from where they had been standing.

A broad man with very short hair gets out, walks around to the front of the car, and casually leaning against the bonnet.

Seconds later, a middle-aged man wearing a long black trench coat steps out from the shadows of the car park, followed by two younger men dressed in similar attire.

They silently walk forward, stopping when they are about ten feet away from the car and its driver. The older man is the first to break the silence.

"Good evening, Jacques."

"Stanislav," the driver responds gruffly.

"You're late."

"Traffic."

Stanislav raises a greying eyebrow. "At this time of night?"

"You would be surprised," Jacques replies, not at all convincingly, and Emilia notices that he has a French accent.

"Oh, this week has been full of surprises," Stanislav says with a humourless smile. "Finding out that you were in London was one of them. Are you enjoying your visit so far?"

"It's not as nice as Paris." Jacques offers him a disinterested one-shoulder shrug. "But I admit I am biased."

He pauses for a moment before continuing.

"Would you like to ask me about the weather now? Or would you like to get to the point where you tell me why we are having this meeting?"

The smile slips instantly from Stanislav's lips, convincing Emelia that it was never real to begin with.

"You sound impatient," he comments.

"I have better places to be than here," Jacques retorts unapologetically.

"And what about your precious prince?" Stanislav asks, his tone now a distasteful hiss. "Did he have better places to be also or was he just too much of a coward to show up tonight?"

Stanislav's eyes briefly scan the street and Emelia holds her breath, praying he doesn't notice them.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Jacques says coldly, "but you're the last person he would ever be afraid of."

"Oh, really?" Stanislav's voice now carries a hint of mocking. "Then please tell me, where is your prince? Is he hiding? Choosing to be like the cockroach he is?"

He says that last part slightly louder as if he wants someone else besides Jacques to hear.

What the hell are these people talking about? Emelia wonders, convinced they are listening to a conversation between a group of loonies.

Sofie taps on her shoulder.

"There's someone on top of the tower block," she whispers.

Emelia glances at her with confusion before looking up to see for herself.

Sure enough, in the darkness above the tower block opposite, barely visible against the backdrop of the night sky, is the unmistakable shape of a person.

Shock tears through Emelia instantly. Why would someone - anyone - be on top of an abandoned council block?

A chilling thought enters her mind just as Sofie leans in and says it out loud beneath her breath.

"I think they are going to jump."

And right on cue, they do.

___.___

Cue the dramatic music! That concludes the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed it and are excited to read more.