My head was swimming. Suddenly, I felt quite disorientated.
I stopped at a small village, still several miles from London and I swear to you on my honor as a bloodthirsty fiend that I had no idea why I was there. I had a notion that I was going to the old Talamascan motherhouse, but I can't tell you why or what I had expected.
I do know that I was angry with Armand. I muttered truculent curses all the way. I do remember the journey, just as clearly as I should usually expect to remember it, but I don't know why I went there. I have no idea!
The village was dead to the night. Doors locked, not a single light to suggest a living soul. Something swept over me, a feeling of alarm and relief combined.
And I turned tail and I left.