Chapter 1

"At least stay and have a drink." My date got up as I started to move away from the table.

"I'd rather not. You lied to me."

"Everything I said to you was true. Mostly."

"You said you were six feet tall and you sent me a picture of someone else!" I glared at the man I'd been chatting to online for the past couple of weeks and wished I hadn't agreed to meet him in person. I was an idiot. Brida, Gisela, and Aethelflaed had suggested I at least Facetime him before meeting up. I asked him to do that and he made some excuse, but I still went ahead and met him anyway.

"What's a couple of inches between friends? Come on, Skade. Sit down." Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabbed my wrist in a vicelike grip. His little piggy eyes glittered and for the first time in my life that I could remember, I felt nervous. I sat. He loosened his grip, but rather than release me, he grasped my hand instead and held it tightly. His palm was warm and sweaty, and I suppressed a shudder. What the hell was I doing? I had to get out of there.

I picked up the drink Haesten had bought for me and sipped it. He did the same. "That's better. So, what are we going to do after this? My place or yours?"

"Neither."

"Don't tease me." He grinned, flashing crooked yellow teeth.

"I don't sleep with people I just met."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" His grin widened and he moved his eyebrows up and down.

"I'm here for a drink. That's all. Then I'm going home." I could imagine what the girls would say when I told them about this, after they'd all warned me about meeting up with strange guys off the Net.

"Aww, don't be like that." Haesten moved closer, let go of my hand, and slid his arm around me instead.

"Take your hands off me." I was more angry than anxious now, and I shoved his arm away. I jumped to my feet and moved out of reach before he could grab me. "This isn't happening. Don't contact me again." I charged out of the bar into the street. Several taxis waited nearby and I dived into one of them, just as Haesten came out of the pub. "Go," I said. "Just drive."

The driver took off immediately, much to my relief. "Where are we going?" He spoke with an Irish accent.

I gave him my address. "I know it's only a couple of minutes away, but there's this creepy guy who might follow me if I walk." Thank God I hadn't told Haesten where I lived.

"Ah. No problem." He glanced in the rear-view mirror and smiled. I vaguely recognised him as someone Uhtred knew. "You're one of Uhtred's girlfriend's mates, aren't ya?" he asked, confirming it.

"Yes. Skade."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Finan. So, who's the creepy guy?"

"Someone I got talking to on the Net. You don't have to say it. I'm an idiot."

Finan laughed. "We've all done it. Yes, even me. Went to meet this gorgeous young thing once—beautiful red hair, blue eyes, lovely figure. At least that was the photo she sent. Turned out to be old enough to be my mother, with greying hair dyed pink, and this horrible snaggletooth." He made a face.

I giggled. "That's exactly what happened with me. The six-foot muscleman is shorter than me, overweight, sweaty, and doesn't brush his teeth."

"Yuk. Didn't you think of trying Facetime or Skype first?"

"No. Didn't you?"

"No. More fool us, eh?" He pulled the car up at the kerb outside the flats where I lived. "Here we go, Skade. Just four quid."

I gave him a fiver. "Keep the change for cheering me up. See you."

A minute later, I was in my flat with the door locked. I pulled out my phone to call Gisela so she could say, "I told you so," and realised I had a text from Haesten's number. Reluctantly, I opened it.

'Look what you're missing.' Under the message was a picture of his meaty fist wrapped around a pale erection with a droopy foreskin.

"Oh my God!" I deleted the picture, shuddering. Then I called Gisela. She finally answered when I was about to give up.

"Skade?" she said breathlessly.

"Hell, G, don't bother answering if you're screwing."

She laughed. "We're done for now. What time is it?"

"Eight."

"Are you home already? What happened?"

"You were right. He's an ugly creep. I ditched him and came home, and he just sent me a picture of his penis."

"That's disgusting!"

"Yeah. Something tells me he's not going to take no for an answer."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No, don't worry. Enjoy Uhtred. I'll call Brida. I'm sure she'll have plenty to say about what a fool I am."

"Yeah, but she'll offer to rip his balls off and feed them to him," Gisela said.

"What the hell?" I heard Uhtred say.

I laughed. "Talk to you tomorrow." Then I hung up and called Brida.

I assumed, perhaps foolishly, that blocking Haesten on Facebook, and blocking his phone number from my mobile would make him leave me alone. I didn't hear from him for a few days, but then I received a text from an unknown number proving he had merely obtained a new sim card. The message included a selfie of him lying in a bed with his chest bare, which showed it to be covered in a mat of brown hair. As tempted as I was to respond with, 'Go to hell,' or similar, I didn't reply. I merely deleted the message, called my mobile provider, and asked them to change my number.

"Is he still bothering you?" Gisela asked when I told her my new phone number.

"Yeah. I blocked him, but he got a new number and sent me another picture."

"You should report him."

"For what? Sending me pictures after I already chatted to him and gave him my phone number? Agreed to meet him in a pub? The police won't give a toss."

"No, probably not." She sighed. "At least he doesn't know where you live."

"Not yet." I'd already spent ages going through my old Facebook posts to make sure I hadn't uploaded any pictures that gave a clue as to the area of the city I lived in, but there was nothing like that. Most of my posts were of my friends and me at the Cauldron seeing whichever band was playing there at the time.

A few days later, I received a message via Facebook from a new account. 'You changed your number, you bitch. Don't think you're getting away from me that easily. I spent two weeks talking to you and bought you a drink. You owe me.'

I didn't reply, but he'd be able to see that I'd read it. Angry and upset, I deleted the message and blocked the account, although it seemed pointless. He'd probably just set up another one.

He did exactly that. For the next week, I received a message every day, always from a new account. I couldn't quite believe he would bother to create a new email address and set up an account with all the security required, every single day, just to harass me, but I supposed some people had nothing better to do. I tried not to let it unnerve me, until he sent me another sickening picture of his dick, followed by a short video of him masturbating. This time, I called the police. They were no help at all.

I hadn't seen Haesten in person since I left him at the bar. He didn't seem to know where I lived, and all he'd done was send me a few sexy pictures. Because I'd deleted most of the other messages he'd sent, I didn't have any proof there have been any threatening ones. The police suggested I call them again if he turned up at my home or my place of work.

"I work from home, you twats," I muttered as I ended the call. I supposed I shouldn't be surprised.

I switched on my laptop ready to start work and checked my emails first. I had three messages from clients I was working with to create logos for their businesses, a couple of bills, and a request for a meter reading from my electric company. There was one final email. I opened it, thinking it would be a potential new client. The message had been sent via my website.

'Hello, Skade. If you think I'll get bored, you're wrong. I'm not going anywhere until I get what I want. Meet me and play nicely, or I'll be very disappointed. I'll be at the Red Bar on Friday at 7pm—just down the road from where you live. See you then. Haesten.'

"Shit!" I slammed the laptop lid down. How could he know where I lived? Had he seen me somewhere and followed me? Perhaps he knew someone who knew me.

I was out of my depth. He had turned into a stalker—something I'd only read about and scoffed at the victims for being cowards and not merely telling their harassers to drop dead. Now I was in their shoes and it scared me; something I hated to admit to. I hadn't even told my friends about the last few messages. There wasn't anything they could do and I not only didn't want them to worry, but I hadn't wanted them to think I was weak either. Now I didn't know what to do for the best. The email wasn't really something that could be called a threat. The police probably wouldn't take it seriously, so there was no point wasting my time with them.

I tried to throw myself into my work for the rest of the day, and not think about Haesten, but I couldn't think about anything else. I convinced myself he was lurking outside somewhere, waiting for me to go out, and I peeked out from behind the curtains a hundred times, scanning the street below for someone hiding in a doorway, or a car I didn't recognise. The only good thing was that my flat was on the third floor so if he was out there, he wouldn't be able to see in the windows. I kept the curtains closed to make sure.

Two days passed before I thought about going outside. It was Friday morning and I'd almost run out of food and milk. I was furious with myself. The situation was interfering with my life to the extent that I was hiding indoors, worried about setting foot outside. What could he do really? Flash me? Say something inappropriate? Or maybe drag me into a car and take me somewhere to do whatever he liked with me.

"Fuck it." I checked again that my door was locked, switched on my computer, and ordered a food delivery from a local supermarket. I had some leftover takeaway in the fridge that I could eat that day. I'd give myself just a little bit longer to think of a way to fix this, since the police were so reluctant to be of any help.