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stopped being afraid. The fact that I was going to have to kill one of these morons was an

added bonus, of course.

We had been driving for what felt like hours. Then somebody started speaking.

“Jack,” said the voice, harsh and dry sounding. “I have a present for you.” The tone was

wheedling, and I didn’t like the lascivious way he said present. I wondered who this Jack

was, and what the present was. Then I realised that I was supposed to be the present.

Gross.

“It’s a young female.” Pause. “Yes, I’m pretty sure she’s one of us.” Pause. “Someone

posted a video clip on youtube of her hitting someone’s nose. Her expression when she saw

the blood on her hand! She was
hungry
, Jack.”

Damn. They knew I was a vampire and that’s how they’d found me. I resolved to find

the person who had posted that footage and
hurt
them. I was still dwelling on this when the pillowcase was suddenly tugged off my head, and the mobile pointed at me. Click. The

bastard had taken a photograph of me. I watched as he smiled to himself, and pressed a few

buttons on the phone, sending my image through cyberspace and to the waiting phone of

Jack, whoever that was. I studied the speaker with narrowed eyes. He looked awful, like he

had some kind of nasty wasting disease. Skinny, with dry mottled skin and bony hands and

face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He glanced up at me and his deep set eyes

shone with triumph.

Angus

It was dark when we finally reached the estate. I felt an overwhelming nostalgia as I

drove through the gates, and down the tree lined drive. I was born here, and I’d grown up in

the house that loomed ahead. I had spent much of my relatively carefree childhood running

through these woods that surrounded us, playing assorted childhood games that all

involved improvised weapons, improbable plots and long, drawn out chase scenes. Such a

long time ago.

Mark hadn’t said much since I’d told him about killing that trapper when I was

seventeen. I had wondered if he had been repulsed or afraid, so I had reached briefly into

his mind. I was surprised by what I sensed. No shock or horror at all. Instead there was

acceptance and understanding and even compassion. He was definitely older than his

fourteen years. I knew then that bringing him had not been a mistake. He reminded me of

my humanity, or what there was of it. When Fergus tracked those vampires down, and sent

me the information I needed, I knew I would have to leave Mark behind here. I couldn’t let

him see what I was going to do.

The old stone house looked welcoming, even after all these years. I hadn’t been back

here in decades. There was more ivy growing up the walls than there had been the last time

I’d been here, but other than that it looked the same. Timeless. Fergus had made sure that

someone had always looked after the place.

The heavy wooden front door was unlocked, and we walked into the warmly lit front

room. There was a fire burning in the grate, flanked by two elderly leather armchairs, and

Mark made a beeline for it and held his hands out. It was colder here than down south in

England, but I felt invigorated by the frosty air. Mark just felt cold, I suppose.

I showed him briefly around the house, turning up the central heating along the way.

He dived into the fridge as soon as we entered the oversized kitchen, and hauled out the

roast the housekeeper had left for us. I left him to dish up, and went to look for my

packages. I found them in a shed near the front door of the house. I carried them indoors to

the kitchen where Mark was already chewing on a hunk of roast beef.

“I thought you were a vegetarian,” I teased him.

“Nah, Mum’s a vegetarian. We just go along with it for her. I’ve eaten meat before.

Delicious.” He smiled happily.

I lifted the wrapped packages onto the big oak table in the middle of the kitchen.

“I’m just going to check these out, make sure they work.”

“Sure,” Mark nodded, too busy carving the roast to look up. “Potatoes?”

“Please.”

I unwrapped the largest of the three parcels, and lifted the Heckler and Koch sniper rifle

out of its protective cocoon of bubble wrap. It was in good condition. Not brand new, but

looked after, like somebody had appreciated it. It was a weapon I had used many times in

Germany; it was reliable and accurate, and could fire up to twenty rounds without having to

be reloaded. I would have to check that it was in working order in a few minutes, and line

up the scope. I had a laser in my pocket for that purpose, and a few shots in the countryside

were likely to go unnoticed. The second largest package contained the rounds for the rifle,

as well as those for the handguns. Hollow tipped, like I’d requested. I thought of them

splitting apart on impact and exploding through the soft inner organs of Rebecca’s

kidnappers, and I smiled to myself.

The Glocks were in the smaller package, also used, but in good condition. The ballistic

vest was top of the range. I was touched by Fergus’ thoughtfulness. I would test all the

firearms after I’d eaten. As I ate my supper and watched Marks wide eyes drift over the

weapons laid out on the table, I wondered what progress Fergus was making.

Rebecca

My arms were really aching by the time the van finally lurched to a standstill. And I

needed to pee.

It was dark outside, but as the guy with the gruff voice grabbed my left arm and lifted

me out of my huddled position in the back of the van, I was able to make out some kind of

artificial light source coming from somewhere nearby. A building, maybe. I was flung

unceremoniously over the gruff man’s shoulder, compressing my already uncomfortably

distended bladder. I concentrated for a few seconds on trying to control the urge to pee,

and then I gave up and peed all over my kidnapper. Serve him right. He swore and I giggled.

He swore some more.

It was strange, really. A part of me was afraid, but I was also enjoying the anger that

pulsed through me. I wondered if Angus felt like this all the time. Just thinking of him made

my heart leap. I had spent a lot of time thinking in that grubby van. And what I had been

thinking about most was Angus, and the way he looked and felt and smelled. It struck me

after a while that the thought of never seeing my mother or Mark or Joe again saddened

me. But the thought of never seeing Angus again wrenched my soul. I suppose it was time to

admit that I was insanely in love with him. Rubbish timing, obviously, but I couldn’t help

that.

I looked around as best I could while I was being carried. His hip got in the way, but I

was able to make out a large building. It looked like some sort of institution, like a hospital maybe, or a home for the elderly. There was a ramp for wheelchairs leading up to the front

door. Weird place to take a kidnap victim.

My captor turned before he reached the entrance and headed out towards the right

side of the building. I squinted to see where he was heading. I could just make out what

looked like an old stone barn. Great. Isolated and draughty. A much more suitable place to

detain a prisoner.

The barn was lit by a solitary bulb that dangled from higher up in the recesses of the

barn roof. There were sacks of compost stacked against one wall, and a row of rusting

gardening implements along another. Gruff man stopped suddenly, and I saw his companion

struggling with a large trapdoor in the floor. It had been cunningly hidden under a few

empty bags and some dirt. He lifted the trapdoor, revealing old stone stairs leading

downwards. A torch flickered into life in his hand and they both started down those stairs,

reluctantly but inevitably accompanied by me.

Mark

The call came just after six thirty. Angus was outside, checking that the guns worked

properly, or something like that. I picked up the phone and carried it outside, still ringing.

Angus appeared like a ghost out of nowhere in seconds. He pressed a button on the phone

and said, “Yes, Fergus. What have you got?”

“There are two possibles. The more likely one is about fifty miles from where you are

now. There’s a privately funded care home for people with some degenerative neurological

disorder. The reason I’m a bit suspicious of it is that Marcus tells me that people with this

disorder rarely live beyond five years at the most. Some of the people in this place have

been there twenty years and up.”

“Hmmm.”

“Indeed. There were a few unexplained and deeply suspicious deaths in that vicinity in

the late 1800’s.”

“What’s the address?”

Fergus read out the name of the place, and the postal code. I knew Angus would be

able to punch that into his satnav. Easier than tracking by smell.

“How many residents?”

“Eleven. The staff appear to have evenings off. Strictly nine to five working hours.”

“Auxiliary staff?”

“Nothing registered. But cash can still buy you an army.”

“Yeah.”

“Look after yourself, brother.” Click. This family were clearly not big on the whole hello

and goodbye thing.

I looked up into Angus’ hardening face, and I was suddenly afraid for my friend. He was

a good man, whether he chose to believe it or not, and I didn’t want him to die tonight.

Rebecca

They dumped me in what looked like an old fashioned dungeon, and slammed the solid

wooden door shut. Massive iron bars appeared to have grown out of the stone floor and

into the thick beams in the ceiling. My cell was about three feet by five feet, dusty, with a

rough wooden bench along the far wall. I stood with my back to the bars as ordered while

one of my captors sliced through the cable ties around my wrists and ankles. As soon as they

had freed me from my restraints, they stepped away from the bars. I turned to watch them

as I massaged my wrists and stretched my arms out. They were leaning against the wall

farthest from my cell. Clearly taking no chances. What a shame. I sat down on the bench and

leaned my back against the rough stone wall.

“Oscar’s been wrong before.” The gruff man smiled evilly at me, although he was

clearly talking to his colleague.

“Yeah, that was fun. She was a bit of a screamer, though. But nobody can hear screams

through this lot,” he pointed at the ceiling. “It’s soundproof, baby.” He sneered the last

word at me.

I wondered if they were trying to frighten me. It wasn’t working. I was visualising one of

them coming into my cell, and me leaping up at them and sinking my teeth into the soft

exposed flesh of their neck, and gulping down the sweet and salty blood that pulsed out of

the torn flesh. I shuddered with pleasure at the thought.

“I think he’s right about this one, though. She doesn’t look as frightened as she should.

She’s giving me the creeps.”

Damn, my cover was blown. Well at least they’d stay away from me now.

“Man, you stink.”

“She pissed all over me.” Gruff man sounded gruffer than ever. I grinned.

“Wait ‘till Jack gets here, sweetie. He’ll wipe that smile right off your pretty little face.”

I sniffed in his general direction, and grinned wider, letting the anger and hunger seep

into my eyes.

They stared warily at me and said nothing.

Mark

It took Angus about ten minutes to get the car loaded up. He put the guns in the boot,

except for one of the pistols, which he loaded and shoved in his belt. He strapped the vest

on over his shirt, and pulled the leather jacket on over that. He looked over at me as he was

sliding into the driver’s seat, and he nodded.

“Thanks, Mark.”

And then he was gone in a swirl of mud and roaring engine. I wondered what he was

thanking me for. He was the one rescuing my sister, after all. He was helping
me
.

I shut the door, and sat down in one of the ancient leather armchairs by the fire to wait.

It was going to be a long night.

It’s hard to believe how long a journey of fifty miles can take in your head, even when

you look at the clock on the dash and it’s actually taken less than an hour. I pulled over onto the grass along the side of an isolated country road about two miles from my destination.

The area was isolated and protected from view by a clump of gnarled chestnut trees.

I retrieved the sniper rifle from the boot, loaded it, and put spare magazine in one of

my now bulging pockets. I loaded the second Glock too, and stuck it in my waistband at the

small of my back. Two spare fully loaded magazines also went onto my pockets. I stood, rifle

held loosely in my left hand, and breathed in deeply through my nose. Once, and then again.

The sour scent of slowly decaying vampire flesh wrapped itself around my olfactory

neurosensory cells. I smiled grimly, and taking the tub of iron tablets out of my pocket, I

counted out another ten, and swallowed them. I was going to need all the power and speed

I could get tonight.

I set out in the general direction of the smell, jogging silent footed through the fields

and hedgerows between me and my target. It occurred to me that I’d killed quite a few

people in my time, but never a vampire. I hoped that Marcus was right about the whole

decapitating business. I was prepared to try a number of alternative options, though. It also