I made it to Bishop’s place without attacking any random people on the street. That was a major achievement in my books. I surprised myself with how swiftly I ascended the stairs. In fact, my balance was so thrown out of whack that I slammed into the front door with an “oof” as the breath knocked out of me. So much for being stealthy… dawn must have been closer than I’d thought.
“Bishop?” my knuckles rang against the metal door. “Bishop are you home? It’s me, Anja.” As if I had to clarify. Who else would be knocking at his door at that hour like an unwanted landlord? “Bishop?” I pressed my ear to the door, but I couldn’t hear anything inside. For all I knew he was asleep, or ignoring me. I might have done the same if I was in his position. No actually, strike that. I couldn’t have sat there while someone in need of help pounded at my front door, no matter how annoying they were.
But despite his continued attempts to keep me at arms length, I suspected he wasn’t at home rather than avoiding me. Awesome. Now what? I didn’t trust myself to make it home again without trying to eat someone, but I couldn’t sit there indefinitely. The thought of trying to break into his apartment was fleeting. Mostly because I was pretty sure Bishop would be less inclined to help me if he found I’d let myself into his place. Also, I had no idea how to do it.
Slumping against the door, I resolved to wait for him, hoping he’d let me inside before full dawn approached and I passed out. Only I lost that race, because the last thing I remember was thinking that I wished I’d remembered to take my purse with me when leaving the house. I could have called him and let him know I was there. Then again, that might have kept him from coming home altogether.