Sophie Morgan (Book 1): Relative Strangers (A Modern Vampire Story) by Helen Treharne Read Free Book Online Page B

somehow. I have always been a believer in taking the most practical solution wherever possible, and at that moment all I could think was "Do something."
    "It was two lads", Sean blurted out frantically. "I didn’t see them lift it, but one of the girls over there claims she thought they saw them take it - just now I think."
    "Oh crap," Tracy repeatedly muttered.
    "We should call the peelers", Mickey said, "Sean, go tell Maggie".
    I can’t really explain why I did what I did next. It certainly wasn’t the most sensible action to take, but it just seemed like the one thing that I could actually do to remedy the situation. Before I knew it, I was running out of the door of O’Malley’s with a steely determination which I never knew I possessed. I heard some commotion behind me as I made for the door, a combination of "where’s she going?" and "what does she think she’s doing?" but nothing stopped me. Come hell or high water I was going to try and get that bag back - people could hang about or join me, it was their shout.
    It took a few seconds for me to hear the sounds of other footsteps running behind me. By then, I’d picked up the pace, heading down the cobbled road to an even darker side street. I don’t know why I picked the route I did, I think I just assumed that a robber would probably try to make off into a shadier part of town, literally and metaphorically. Tracy and I had established on our daytime wandering that there wasn’t much this way other than dodgy looking restaurants and a few bars – the sort of place I assumed a thief would hang out.
    I think that the fact I caught up with the thieves within a few minutes surprised me more than I legged it after them in the first place. I had no idea I could run so fast. They were also not what I expected. Okay, I wasn’t expecting striped jumpers and a bag on their shoulder labelled ‘swag’, but I wasn’t prepared for two well-groomed guys in blazers and fine knit sweaters either. They looked like they should have been extras on Miami Vice.
    "Give me the bloody bag", I shouted.
    I don’t know if they were first-time opportunists or whether they were just taken back by a five foot nothing Welsh woman chasing after them, but they stopped in their tracks.
    "Give me the fucking bag," I repeated.
    And blow me, didn’t blazer boy just hand the bag right back. I don’t know if it was the conviction with which I spoke, or the fact that Mickey had just about caught up with us.
    "Wait there," I ordered. I was surprisingly good at this." Everything better still be in here".
    The two men stood completely still as I rummaged through the bag. Due to its size it took me a while to go through it, but my cursory inspection of its contents indicated that everything was there; everything that was important anyway. As I turned on my heel, I saw Mickey behind me, looking like a man who had experienced every sort of emotion all at the same time.
    "Jesus, thank God you’re alright. What the hell were you thinking of?" he panted. "You’re a feckin' idiot".
    "It had her passport and everything in," I retorted, slightly bemused by his question. I think my actions had even surprised me a little, but the shock was making me act like I’d behaved in the most reasonable way in the world.
    My reply didn’t satisfy Mickey, who was by that time doubled over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. I gave him a few moments to gather himself.
    "Where do you learn to run like that?" he asked.
    I shrugged my shoulders in response. I wasn’t really sure. I’d never been particularly sporty in school. I didn’t mind the cross country running in the summer months, but I wasn’t fast. If anything, I was more of an ambler than a runner.
    "C’mon," I sighed, "I need beer. Take this, will you? It’s heavier than it looks." I handed the bag over to Mickey, who obediently slung it over his shoulder, and we made our way up the cobbled street towards the pub.
    After a few