After a time, they managed to extract themselves from the chaise lounge and wandered down through the now deserted hotel. The few Kindred who remained were in the central courtyard, playing cards. They nodded to Byron as he passed, with one arm around Bella’s shoulders. From the hotel, it was a short walk along the narrow Rue de Fourcy to where the Pont Marie crossed the Seine. The bridge’s footpaths were almost empty, only a few scant shadows moving in the darkness.

Byron leant against the low, stone wall of the bridge, with the length of the river stretching out behind him, it’s dark water reflecting the light of the ornate lamp posts lining both banks.

“Where to? The city is yours.”